We reached the Platte River about three o'clock, p.m., on Saturday, May 25th, with our cattle so weak and poor that we drove several of them loose and pulled two wagons into camp by hand. After lunch we had a fellowship meeting. I made a motion that when we left that camping place we should have good, light wagons, with four horses to each one, plenty of food, and "a white man's outfit." After considerable discussion the motion was unanimously carried, and with considerable sarcasm I was appointed trader-in-chief to make the desired exchanges. Several California emigrants were present at the meeting and before night, they had donated a nice wagon, a new set of double harness, a horse, some rice, sugar, dried apples, etc. In a few days I succeeded in exchanging our old out-fits for fine, fat horses, and everything needful for a comfortable journey. We put a sign on one of our wagons "U. S. Mail," and received considerable money for drop letters. In crossing the plains we met the cholera among the gold diggers, who were on their way to California. We frequently had to leave the road to avoid the stench of those who had died by its ravages, and were but slightly covered over by their comrades. At one time I saw a man beating his cattle with the butt of his whip, cursing loudly at the same time; he dropped on the ground in the act and in about fifteen minutes was dead and buried. One evening Captain Davis was attacked with the terrible disease and in a short time was dead. The day following I was taken with it about noon, just as we were about to turn down to the Platte River to lunch. My brethren gave me all encouragement, saying they would hurry to the river, and nurse me and do all they could for me. For a few minutes I did the most rapid thinking of my lifetime. I then told them not to take me from the main road, for God's servants had promised me I should not die on the road to England. They asked what they should do. I told them to let me get out of the wagon on the sand with my face towards Europe, and then they should go to their lunch. If they should return and find me dead, they had better return home and conclude that "Mormonism" was a hoax. They seemed to think my head was affected and I had to charge them in a most solemn manner before they would let me have my way. When they came to me from lunch I selected two brethren to hold me up by the wrists at the hind end of the wagon, and drive the team as slowly as possible, and when the paroxysms of the cramp came on to lift me in. This was continued till about three o'clock, p.m., when the cholera left me. For the width of three fingers where my stomach and bowels were cramped over each other, my body was as black and blue for some three weeks as any bruise I have ever seen, and as much flesh went from me in six hours, as a fever usually takes from a man in a month. I know this, that the faith taught me by my father, Daniel Spencer, together with