THE PIONEERS—THE PIONEER COMPANIES THAT FOLLOWED—METHOD OF THE MARCH—MRS. HORNE ON THE PLAINS—THE EMIGRANT'S POST-OFFICE—PENTECOSTS BY THE WAY—DEATH AS THEY JOURNEYED—A FEAST IN THE DESERT—"AUNT LOUISA" AGAIN.

Very properly President Young and a chosen cohort of apostles and elders formed the band of pioneers who bore the standard of their people to the Rocky Mountains. On the 7th of April, 1847, that famous company left winter quarters in search of another Zion and gathering place. Three women only went with them. These must be honored with a lasting record. They were Clara Decker, one of the wives of Brigham Young; her mother, and Ellen Sanders, one of the wives of H. C. Kimball.

Yet the sisters as a mass were scarcely less the co-pioneers of that apostolic band, for they followed in companies close upon its track. It was with them faith, not sight. They continued their pilgrimage to the West early in June. On the 12th, Captain Jedediah M. Grant's company moved out in the advance.

"After we started out from winter quarters," says Sister Eliza Snow, "three or four days were consumed in maneuvering and making a good ready, and then, at an appointed place for rendezvous, a general meeting was held around a liberty-pole erected for the purpose, and an organization effected, similar to that entered into after leaving Nauvoo.

"As we moved forward, one division after another, sometimes in fifties, sometimes in tens, but seldom traveling in hundreds, we passed and repassed each other, but at night kept as nearly compact as circumstances would admit, especially when in the Indian country. East of Fort Laramie many of the Sioux Nation mixed with our traveling camps, on their way to the fort, where a national council was in session. We had no other trouble with them than the loss of a few cooking utensils, which, when unobserved, they lightly fingered; except in one instance, when our ten had been left in the rear to repair a broken wagon, until late in the evening. It was bright moonlight, and as we were passing one of their encampments, they formed in a line closely by the roadside, and when our teams passed, they simultaneously shook their blankets vigorously on purpose to frighten the teams and cause a stampede, probably with the same object in view as white robbers have in ditching railroad trains. However, no serious injury occurred, although the animals were dreadfully frightened."

Sister Horne thus relates some incidents of the journey:

"Apostle John Taylor traveled in the company that my family was with, Bishop Hunter being captain of the company of one hundred, and Bishop Foutz and my husband being captains of fifties. The officers proposed, for safety in traveling through the Indian country, that the two fifties travel side by side, which was agreed to, Bishop Foutz's fifty taking the north side. For some days the wind blew from the south with considerable force, covering the fifty on the north with dust from our wagons. This continued for two weeks; it was then agreed that the two companies should shift positions in order to give us our fair proportion of the dust; but in a day or two afterwards the wind shifted to the north, thus driving the dust on to the same company as before. After having some good natured badinage over the circumstance, our company changed with the unfortunates and took its share of the dust.

"One day a company of Indians met us and manifested a desire to trade, which we were glad to do; but as the brethren were exchanging corn for buffalo robes, the squaws were quietly stealing everything they could lay hands upon. Many bake-kettles, skillets and frying-pans were missing when we halted that night.

"As our wagons were standing while the trading was going on, one Indian took a great fancy to my little girl, who was sitting on my knee, and wanted to buy her, offering me a pony. I told him 'no trade.' He then brought another pony, and still another, but I told him no; so he brought the fourth, and gave me to understand that they were all good, and that the last one was especially good for chasing buffalo. The situation was becoming decidedly embarrassing, when several more wagons drew near, dispersing the crowd of Indians that had gathered around me, and attracting the attention of my persistent patron."

The emigrant's post-offices are thus spoken of by Sister Eliza:

"Much of the time we were on an untrodden way; but when we came on the track of the pioneers, as we occasionally did, and read the date of their presence, with an 'all well' accompaniment, on a bleached buffalo skull, we had a general time of rejoicing."

For years those bleached buffalo skulls were made the news agents of the Mormon emigrations. The morning newspaper of to-day is not read with so much eagerness as were those dry bones on the plains, telling of family and friends gone before.

It was a long, tedious journey to those pioneer sisters, yet they had pentecosts even on their pilgrimage. Again quoting from Sister Eliza:

"Many were the moon and starlight evenings when, as we circled around the blazing fire, and sang our hymns of devotion, and songs of praise to him who knows the secrets of all hearts, the sound of our united voices reverberated from hill to hill, and echoing through the silent expanse, seemed to fill the vast concave above, while the glory of God seemed to rest on all around. Even now while I write, the remembrance of those sacredly romantic and vivifying scenes calls them up afresh, and arouses a feeling of response that language is inadequate to express."

But there were dark days also. The story changes to sickness in the wagons and death by the wayside:

"Death," says Sister Eliza, "made occasional inroads among us. Nursing the sick in tents and wagons was a laborious service; but the patient faithfulness with which it was performed is, no doubt, registered in the archives above, as an unfading memento of brotherly and sisterly love. The burial of the dead by the wayside was a sad office. For husbands, wives and children to consign the cherished remains of loved ones to a lone, desert grave, was enough to try the firmest heartstrings.

"Although every care and kindness possible under the circumstances were extended to her, the delicate constitution of Mrs. Jedediah M. Grant was not sufficient for the hardships of the journey. I was with her much, previous to her death, which occurred so near to Salt Lake Valley, that by forced drives, night and day, her remains were brought through for interment. Not so, however, with her beautiful babe of eight or ten months, whose death preceded her's about two weeks; it was buried in the desert."

The companies now began to hear of the pioneers and the location of "Great Salt Lake City." On the 4th of August several of the Mormon battalion were met returning from the Mexican war. They were husbands and sons of women in this division. There was joy indeed in the meeting. Next came an express from the valley, and finally the main body of the pioneers, returning to winter quarters. On the Sweetwater, Apostle Taylor made for them a royal feast, spoken of to this day. Sisters Taylor, Horne, and others of our leading pioneer women, sustained the honors of that occasion.

Early in October the companies, one after another, reached the valley.

The next year many of the pioneers made their second journey to the mountains, and with them now came Daniel H. Wells, the story of whose wife, Louisa, shall close these journeys of the pioneers.

Although exceedingly desirous of crossing the plains with the first company of that year, her father was unable to do more than barely provide the two wagons necessary to carry his family and provisions, and the requisite number of oxen to draw them. The luxury of an extra teamster to care for the second wagon was out of the question; and so Louisa, although but twenty-two years of age, and although she had never driven an ox in her life, heroically undertook the task of driving one of the outfits, and caring for a younger brother and sister.

The picture of her starting is somewhat amusing. After seeing that her allotment of baggage and provisions, along with her little brother and sister, had been stowed in the wagon; with a capacious old-fashioned sun-bonnet on her head, a parasol in one hand and an ox-whip in the other, she placed herself by the side of her leading yoke of oxen and bravely set her face westward. Matters went well enough for a short distance, considering her inexperience with oxen; but the rain began to pour, and shortly her parasol was found to be utterly inadequate, so in disgust she threw it into the wagon, and traveled on in the wet grass amid the pouring rain. Presently the paste-board stiffeners of her sun-bonnet began to succumb to the persuasive moisture, and before night, draggled and muddy, and thoroughly wet to the skin, her appearance was fully as forlorn as her condition was pitiable.

This was truly a discouraging start, but nothing daunted she pressed on with the company, and never allowed her spirits to flag. Arrived at the Sweetwater, her best yoke of oxen died from drinking the alkali water, and for a substitute she was obliged to yoke up a couple of cows. Then came the tug of war; for so irregular a proceeding was not to be tolerated for a moment by the cows, except under extreme compulsion. More unwilling and refractory laborers were probably never found, and from that point onward Louisa proceeded only by dint of the constant and vigorous persuasions of her whip.

During the journey a Mrs. McCarthy was confined; and it was considered necessary that Louisa should nurse her. But it was impossible for her to leave her team during the day; so it was arranged that she should attend the sick woman at night. For three weeks she dropped her whip each night when the column halted, and leaving her team to be cared for by the brethren, repaired to Mrs. McCarthy's wagon, nursing her through the night, and then seizing her whip again as the company moved forward in the morning.

However, she maintained good health throughout the journey, and safely piloted her heterodox outfit into the valley along with the rest of the company.

On the journey, after wearing out the three pairs of shoes with which she was provided, she was obliged to sew rags on her feet for protection. But each day these would soon wear through, and often she left bloody tracks on the cruel stones.

It was on this journey that she first became acquainted with Gen. Wells, to whom she was married shortly after they reached the valley. As the senior wife of that distinguished gentleman, "Aunt Louisa" is well known throughout Utah; and as a most unselfish and unostentatious dispenser of charity, and an ever-ready friend and helper of the sick and needy, her name is indelibly engraved on the hearts of thousands.