There was so much alkali in the water, and the feed for the stock was of the same variety, that it was necessary to feed and water our stock with care. Many of the cattle that had fared quite well up to this point, died of the effects of the feed and water. In and around the central part of this locality we noticed the ever-increasing signs of the misfortunes that befell some of the pioneers who had blazed the trail for us. We found piles of wagon irons, and always in the immediate vicinity we found the bones of the livestock, victims of the feed and water. Indeed from here to the end of the alkali district we saw evidence of misfortune.

During the season of the year when the water was gone from the lake, it was the custom of the settlers to return and haul quantities of the substance, known to them as salaratus, to be used largely as we use common baking soda to day. When it was dry it could be scooped up with the hands and wagon boxes loaded with it, if desired.

A large mass of rock, known as Independent Rock was the next curio to claim our attention, located farther up the Sweetwater. It was likely three hundred feet high, and covered, maybe four acres of ground. Its position, out in the open valley, away from any similar formation, and miles from the mountains, made it all the more attractive. We were camped near it and we boys took some of the old wagon tires from the wrecks of the pioneers, and climbed Independent Rock, and rolled them down. Out of 8 or 10 that we turned loose only two reached the bottom, and they were so badly bent that they would hardly roll.

It was now about September 1st as we reached the Upper Crossing of the Sweetwater River, and the last crossing of the stream before we started across the Rocky Mountains, and it was estimated that we were two-thirds of the way to the Salt Lake Valley. The roads leading over the mountains were rough, and our progress slow. The strain on the wagons was taking its toll, though the crossing was made without incident. When we were over the Mountain Pass, the first stream of water I can remember that we reached was called Big Sandy, though we must have traveled down other streams before we reached it. Good fee for the stock and plenty of good water were reached without difficulty now. After a few days travel on the Big Sandy, we reached Green River, which we forded. We traveled in a southeasterly direction and the next place we reached was Fort Bridger, and we camped there one night. We entertained this thought now that the crossing of the plains was almost accomplished, and we were up early and on the road each day, for we felt each day was now an important time, and we longed for a view of the valley of the Great Salt Lake.

Soon after we left Fort Bridger we met Henry Beckstead, who, acting on our understanding of the previous year, to leave in 1851, was on his way East to meet us. We were just breaking camp for the day’s pull when Henry happened along. He was driving a span of good horses, and his main object, aside from knowing all was well with us, was to care for Mother, and shorten her time on the road. He took her and Byram, my brother, with him in his wagon and went on ahead into the valley, and we did not see them again until we reached Beckstead's home on the Weber River, near Ogden.

Our company, up to the time we reached Independent Rock had submitted gracefully to the discipline of the officers over us, but dissension and dissatisfaction had appeared and was quite manifest from the Rock on. The main cause for the “split” was that the non-Mormons that were with us wanted to travel on Sundays and Captain Cordon would not consent to it. His instructions were to travel on Sunday, only in case of absolute necessity. By the time we reached Echo Canyon, the next land mark of our trail, our company was pretty well scattered, some ahead of us and others in the rear, as for Father and his people, we were all together and with Captain Cordon. We entered Echo Canyon in the early part of the day, and were obliged to make one camp in the canyon, and I remember the night very well on account of our little dog "Clip." He was more or less just a common dog, but a very smart little fellow. He was entirely black, and while he might not have been able to whip his weight in wild cats, he was not afraid to try, and would tackle anything once. The walls of the canyon near the camp were just right to produce an echo to the best advantage, and Clip, either for amusement or anguish spent all the night barking at himself in echo. The next day’s travel took us through the canyon onto the Weber River. We were greatly interested in Echo Canyon, it was strange to us. One feature was that the cliffs of the canyon were practically all on the North side of the canyon. Some of them tower 3 or 4 hundred feet above the bed of the canyon, almost perpendicularly, and extend almost east and west. To the south the hills are smaller and run out to open country. As we went down the Weber River, the mountains were much larger. Our first camp after we left Echo Canyon was on the Weber River on the north bank, nearly opposite the mouth of East Canyon Creek, which I think was the name it was known at that time.

The river here was not very large so we had no difficulty in fording, the next morning after breaking camp; our way led up East Canyon Creek. The road in places was quite steep and rocky, in other places it was sliding, and our progress was slow. The mountain we were climbing was known to the pioneers as Big Mountain, and is known by that name today. The last of our wagons reached the Summit of Big Mountain about one or two o'clock in the afternoon and we went down the west side of the mountain before we had dinner. By this time the daylight was spent and we camped there for the night, with but one mountain between us and the Great Salt Lake Valley, it was known and is known today as Little Mountain, and we were on a stream between there.

Early next morning we were on our way over Little Mountain which we scaled without any trouble, and at the foot of which we emerged into Immigration Canyon, and followed it a short distance, and then in a northwesterly direction we finally reach the Salt Lake Valley and Salt Lake City. From a point on Big Mountain I had seen the Southern end of the valley but could not see the city, now as we left Immigration Canyon, in Oct. 1851, I saw for my first time Salt Lake City itself. We drove into the city and stopped in the road in front of several residences. Father had helped Heber C. Kimball on his way West as far as the upper crossing of the Sweetwater and had received an invitation to call when he could get to the city. He had no difficulty in locating Heber C. at his home and straightway went into a conference with him, the result of which was; He advised Father to go directly to East Weber, a settlement on the Weber River about 17 miles south of Ogden. He was to take a surveyor with him from Salt Lake City and locate on the best piece of land he could locate. He also told Father there were some men there doing all they could to hold large tracts of land, but to not be discouraged but stand for his rights. Heber C. asked him if he remembered that he told him to go to Missouri with his family and prepare himself for the trip West and come as soon as he could. Father replied that he certainly did. Then Heber C. told him because of his faithfulness in this matter, his life had been lengthened approximately 15 years.

Father could not get the surveyor but we went on up there any way. It was our intention to spend the winter of 1851-52 with our people who had preceded us into the Valley. Here we found Henry Beckstead, who married my sister Lucene, my brother John who was married now, having married one of Daniel Smith's daughters, by his first wife. Joseph Hardy, Abiah Wadsworth, Gordon Beckstead, Daniel Smith, and others from the East. Daniel Smith married my sister Elizabeth.

Here we spent a very enjoyable winter with Henry Beckstead, and in the spring we rented a small farm from Gordon Beckstead near East Weber. The wheat was planted when we rented it, and we received the privilege of renting because Gordon wanted to spend the summer with his father in South Jordan. There were about 15 families to make use of this limited supply of water, so our yield was light, and for our share we received one half the total. We spent the winter of 1852-1853 in Gordon Beckstead's house, and outside of our social and religious activities, the winter was uneventful.

In the spring we moved over to South Weber (1853) about 2 miles down the river on the opposite side of the stream from the East Weber settlement and on eighty acres of land. About this time Mr. Fox, the territorial surveyor came down and surveyed the South Weber District. The tracts were laid off in eighty-acre plots. During the summer we plowed and planted about twenty acres of crop, principally wheat. We also planted some corn and potatoes. During our spare moments we built us a log house of one room, and from the timber found on the banks of the river, on our land.

In the spring of 1853, Abiah Wadsworth, Henry Beckstead, and Nelson Arave, built a small sawmill in East Weber, using the water of the river for power. The saw was of the upright type; the blade was in a frame and moved up and down. It was not very efficient, as we know efficiency today; in fact one neighbor remarked he would be pleased to live until they could saw enough lumber for his casket. It was slow but quite successful. We got some boards and slabs to complete our house with. We spent the winter of 1853-54 on Father's homestead. Here we spent the usual quiet life, and a happy comfortable winter. In the spring of 1854 we planted we planted about forty acres of wheat, oats, and corn in addition to our garden.

Some 15 or 20 families of this settlement met and decided that inasmuch as we were in need of water and there was plenty in the Weber River, it would be best to build a canal and get the use of the water. We went about a mile above our home to take the water the channel, and when canal was completed, it had a splendid fall and was about 5 or 6 miles long, and carried about two thousand inches of water, and was about half completed this year. A number of families had by this time settled on the river below us, and wanted to use this same canal, they were not ready for water but working on the ditch in their spare moments. The canal was completed to us in plenty of time for the first irrigation of 1855.

It was in the summer of 1854 that the grasshoppers were so bad. They came from the northeast, it was said from the Dakotas. They were countless in numbers, at times it seemed they dimmed the sun. They would come flying across the country and all at once as if by command or understanding they would all light at once and proceed with their destruction. Almost invariably when they lit they would stay until the following morning, then fly on to the southwest, they seemed never to return, but the next ones would again come from the northeast. I have seen the north shore of Great Salt Lake covered six or seven inches deep with dead hoppers. They made a short work of grain fields, and those that were missed were very fortunate. In spite of the havoc wrought there was wheat enough for food and for seed the next year. As for us, we suffered but slight damage.

There was a school in the East Weber settlement during the winter of 1854-55 and David was living with Henry Beckstead and attended the school, but we had no school in South Weber so Byram and I did not get to go. There was no text books other than some histories of the United States but the Church works were used for the three winters following.

I was now 16 years of age, and quite able to read because of the help of my Father and Mother, and up to this time they had taught me faithfully. As soon as it was possible for the Saints to do so they had secured a provincial form of government from the United States and the country throughout the valley had been organized into counties, precincts, etc. This action placed us in Davis County and Father was appointed a Justice of the Peace, and had been sent the Constitution of the United States, as well as all the laws enacted by the Territorial Legislature. These books and the Deseret News were what I had for my winters reading. During this, the fall of 1854, word was received from the Authorities of the Church that the activities of the Indians, through this territory, were becoming more and more unfriendly, and they advised that the people organize and form in communities where they could build forts for their protection, and it was suggested that the people of South Weber go over to East Weber and join the people there. The people of East Weber didn’t want to go to South Weber, and South Weber did not want to go to East Weber, so they fortified each community as best they could. East Weber built a series of houses square, surrounded by a large mud wall. It was always Father’s contention that the advise of the Church Authorities should be considered in every instance, and this alone led him to go to East Weber, then again, Daniel Smith at East Weber had been after Father to trade farms with him in South Weber, so all in all the trade was made, in the winter of 1854-55, but we spent the winter on our farm and in the spring of 1855 we moved to East Weber and into the house of Daniel Smith, which had been moved from the farm to the Fort. The Fort at South Weber was built like the one at East Weber, except the mud wall was not built.

Our new home at the fort was about one mile from the farm, where we planted about 25 acres of corn and wheat. We always lived in the fort, and never on the land for which we traded, until as such time as peaceful conditions were restored. We lived in the Fort, but as a result of this common defense idea, the land around the Fort was divided into small pieces or divisions, or lots and when we finally moved from the fort, it was on one of these lots. This group of lots became commonly known as the town site.

Alfalfa was unknown to us at this time, and the problem for everyone alike was to raise enough feed to take care of the livestock. However, between where we lived and Great Salt Lake where the Weber River emptied, there was a large area of land, unclaimed, and it was covered with a very heavy growth of grass, where we wintered our stock unmolested

With the locality, and in particular with some springs of fresh water, we associate the name of W. H. Hooper. Mr. Hooper was the owner of a portion of this grass land and was recognized by the Church as an honest, trustworthy man. He was also the owner of a good number of cattle. It was customary for the Saints, at least some of them, to pay their tithing in kind. This placed a large number of cattle in the care of the Church every year, and it was here with Captain Hooper as he was known among his associates, that the Church kept its livestock. The nearest market for the cattle at this time was Sacramento, California, and each year, commencing in June, they were driven to the market, and Captain Hooper was always in charge of the Church stock along with his own, and for that matter any settler could send his animals to market. There were Church members, non-church members and apostates among those who were seeking a market, and also a passage to California. This variety of men were all included in his company to the coast.

Hooper Springs, as this particular part of the range was called, was on the South side of the river and when the start was made it was necessary to cross the stream, and the company included about 15 or 20 wagons. This was Captain Hooper’s company for June of 1855.

The Weber River, as is characteristic of the streams into the Great Salt Lake, was comparatively short, and the high water season lasted about one month, and included the month of June. It was a wicked stream at this time of the year, and as there were no bridges the outfits were obliged to ford, and the cattle had to swim. It therefore called for judgment and skill, based on experience, when this duty was to be performed. At this time, it was found not safe to try to ford the river below East Weber, so in following the advice, Captain Hooper with the cattle, and the wagons eventually reached this place. Captain Hooper called on father and asked his advise about crossing the stream. Father told him it was a very dangerous undertaking, for the bed of the stream was filled with large rocks but they decided to try it. Some two or three of the heavier wagons, drawn by heavier oxen successfully completed the task. It was a real thrill to watch the faithful animals match their skill against the relentless surge of the stream. Following this splendid display of courage and success, we were astonished when the owner of a light wagon, and a light team of horses presented himself on the bank. His wagon contained all he had on earth, his wife, his three children, including a babe in arms, and his household belongings. Captain Hooper objected at once, strenuously, and their comrades cautioned him, but to no avail. As soon as the oxen reached the heavy current they were swept away in the path of the wicked waters, and when they reached greater depth the wagon box left was floated clear of the wagon and down stream. I was standing at a point on the river where I could see well and watched the entire crossing. The mother was now alone in the wagon box with her children, and I remember only too well the cries of distress of that woman as she passed by me as I stood on the bank. Just below me, and in a treacherous current, the box was completely capsized and with all they had, the four were emptied into the water, but in some manner the Mother and the current righted the box and when we could see her again she had her child in her arms but the other two had been carried away and we were never again to see them. Her cries were the most mournful and terror stricken I have ever heard. She still kept her head, for a little later, when the box was dashed against some driftwood, she succeeded in getting onto the wood, from which she was taken later by rescue parties. The Oxen crossed and pulled the wagon to safety.

In cases of this character there is nearly always someone impressed, either by sentiment, sense of duty, or courage and confidence in their ability to help, that steps forward and endears himself to the helpless on-lookers in some act of heroism. Indeed, it may nothing more than the noble spirit that prompts a man to offer his life for a friend. In this connection, we introduce Rodney Badger, a deputy sheriff traveling with the company. When the woman was set adrift in the wagon box, he was thrilled by her cries and hurriedly removed his boots and jumped at once into the treacherous stream and made for the woman. He was reported as a very fine swimmer but was helpless against the river’s current, I saw him disappear twice in the water and I think it was the last time he was ever seen. We were greatly touched by this incident.

During the summer of 1855 the grasshoppers were very bad again, though the damage to our crops was slight. The days we were not needed on the farm we spent working on a road we were building through Weber Canyon, a distance of about six miles. This road would join Salt Lake Valley with Upper Weber Valley. Here, too, we spent as much time as possible gathering wild raspberries, which were so plentiful here. We did not do too well with the road, because of the rocky formation.

We harvested our crops alright this fall, but the process was necessarily slow, on account of the methods in vogue. Our grain was cut with a cradle, an implement with a handle and blade somewhat like the present-day scythe, another fixture was attached in an upright position, behind the blade, in such a manner that it caught the grain as it fell from the blade. It had five fingers with small sticks placed between them to keep the grain from falling through. When the stroke in the swath was completed, the left hand was released from the handle of the scythe, and while the cradle was yet in motion it gathered the grain, and while the right hand returned the cradle to position for the next stroke, the left had dropped the grain in a pile, all heads the same way, where it was bound in a bundle by the help following. The binder was made by taking a small bunch of grain and after making the heads even it was divided and held snugly with the left hand near the heads and the right hand wrapped half of the straw around the other half, and after crossing the strands, placed it around the grain on the ground, held one end of the straw lightly in the left hand by the thumb, and drew the other end as tightly as necessary and twisted the two ends together and bending the tie, tucked it beneath the band where it would dry and remain intact while the bundle underwent the necessary handling, stacking etc.

Our threshing was done by what was known as a “chaff piler.” It was not unlike the completed or improved machines of today. It had a cylinder with teeth attached that passed between and close to a similar arrangement of teeth in a stationary frame beneath the cylinder, known as a concave. By whirling the cylinder rapidly the grain was beaten from the heads and by the same operation carried through the cylinder to the rear, where a man stood with a hand rake and moved it back. From here another rake moved it back again, and even again if necessary, until the grain became too high to work over, the operator would call: "Cave Up" which meant to move the grain to one side so they could run again. Chaff and wheat were now in one pile, and the straw in another. The grain was left in the field and a fanning mill used to separate the chaff from the grain. We then moved the grain to our granary on the town site. This splendid servant was developed in what was known as the Sessions Settlement near Salt Lake City. In caring for the grain after harvest my brother John and I were hauling the bundles for stacking them. As we were loading, in the after part of the day, John called out to me on the wagon to lookout, at about the same time I caught sight of a snake which John said was a rattler. I left the wagon faster than the snake came on, and we unloaded nearly all our load before we found him and disposed of him.

Page 5