At the river are three flat boats, or scows. Here and there on the banks of the river stand pale-faced mothers cuddling their little ones, while husbands and fathers quietly, yet resolutely, roll the wagons on to the boats, then with long poles push from the shore out upon the bosom of the mighty river. No farewells are uttered, no words spoken. Each man knows his duty, and performs it energetically; for they are not hirelings, these men of stout hearts and muscular arms. Nor is it a light task to guide those unwieldly scows through drifting ice, across that mile-wide river. Today, as I recall the scene, and remember the names of some of those heroic exiles: Edwin Little, Thomas Grover, Warren Snow, William and Lige Potter, Charles Shumway, and many others whose lives are interwoven with whatever is great and enduring in our beloved commonwealth, I cannot but liken them to the brave men who faced ice and cold on Christmas night when the invincible Washington led them across the Delaware to do battle with their country's foes. Like these, and also inspired with a new and higher ideal of liberty, our fathers and mothers knew no fear, but trusting in God they crossed the river to the dark beyond, knowing that a conflict awaited them, yet feeling beforehand as only a virile faith can make man feel, that theirs would be the victory, they left their homes in the dead of winter, seeking a better home, but when or where, they knew not! Chapter 2. Camp on Sugar Creek.--Brigham's Charge to the Exiles.--Death of a Noble Woman.--Garden Grove.--Free from Mobs. God pity the exiles, when storms come down-- When snow-laden clouds hang low on the ground, When the chill blast of winter, with frost on its breath Sweeps through the tents, like the angel of death! When the sharp cry of child-birth is heard on the air, And the voice of the father breaks down in his prayer, As he pleads with Jehovah, his loved ones to spare! My father was among the first of the Saints who left Nauvoo and the State of Illinois to avoid the storm of persecution that religious prejudice had created against us. A general gathering place had been chosen nine miles from the river, on Sugar Creek. Here an advance company of brethren had prepared for our coming by shoveling away the snow, so that we had dry spots on which to pitch our tents. Nor did we pitch camp a day too soon; for a heavy storm swept over that part of the country, leaving the snow fourteen inches deep, and being followed by a cold so intense that the Mississippi froze over, and many later teams crossed on the ice.