In Di-Ahman.--Our father's purchases.--Friendliness of the "old settlers."--A spirit of hostility prevalent.--Millers would not grind our wheat.--Grating corn for our bread.--How we cooked the grated meal.--A strange move; the old settlers abscond.--Their reports in the surrounding country.--The Military quells the uprising.--A horse mill in operation.--Mobs arouse with increased force.--Government sends Militia.--They are set to guard the Saints, who are ordered to leave the county within ten days.--The halfway house.--Food frozen.--How we ate supper.--Sleepless and jolly.--Arrive in Far West.--Seven miles out.--Move to Illinois.--To Warren County.--To LaHarpe.--To Nauvoo. We will now leave Lorenzo in LaHarpe, preparing for a visit to Nauvoo, and return to Adam-ondi-Ahman, where he left us. In Di-Ahman, Daviess County, Missouri, our father purchased and paid in full for two homesteads, including the farm crops. The "old settlers," as the inhabitants were called, were very anxious to sell to the Latter-day Saints, who, at the time, did not comprehend nor suspect their villainy. They were obsequiously kind and friendly in their manner towards us as strangers, and we did not, for the time being, suspect their sincerity; but the sequel proved that they had made arrangements for mobbing and driving us, previous to selling, and then, according to their programme, re-take possession of the purchased premises. Before Lorenzo started on his southern mission, as reported in his journal, a spirit of mobocracy was boldly manifested by leading citizens in the county opposing the Latter-day Saints, and at the August election preventing their vote--also putting them to great inconvenience by laying an embargo on all of the flouring mills in that section, and preventing our people from obtaining breadstuff. Our father had abundance of wheat, but could get no grinding. In this dilemma we had to resort to graters, made by perforating tin pails and stovepipes, on which we grated corn for bread material. We tried boiled wheat, but found that it did not retain much nourishment; and our grated corn meal, when cooked by the usual process of bread making, was not quite so solid as lead, but bore a more than satisfactory resemblance to it. "Necessity, the mother of invention," prompted experimenting, and we set our wits to work to make our meal not only _eatable_, but palatable. We had a fine crop of "Missouri pumpkins" (which, being interpreted, means the choicest kind), produced from the soil our father bought; these we stewed with a good supply of moisture, and when boiling hot, stirred it into our grated meal, which, when seasoned with salt and nicely baked--well buttered or in milk, was really very delicious; the main thing was to get enough, especially after the mob had driven in the scattered settlers, by which the number of our family was increased to twenty-five.