. . . After two years of saving, we were able to start on our way to Utah in the spring of 1853. There was Mother and Father, Ted William, John, Elizabeth, Rhuben, Levi and myself. Eliza was married to John Nott and did not come. While crossing the ocean on the ship Windermere, smallpox broke out. My two brothers, Rhuben and Levi, both died from this dreadful disease and were buried in the sea. It almost killed my mother to see those two darlings, with weights attached to their feet, slide into those shark-infested waters.

When we landed at New Orleans, those of us who had smallpox, including Mother, my two brothers and myself, were taken to a hospital for about three weeks. Those who did not have the disease were escorted by the elder who was in charge of this company of Saints, to a place where the emigrants were accommodated until they could again get started on their journey west. As we all know, those who had smallpox in those days were left with unsightly scars on their bodies, and so the elder who accompanied these Saints to the emigrant home would not be seen with them. He made them walk on the opposite side of the street, some distance behind, and told them to watch him so they would know where to go. He also instructed them not to speak to him nor allow anyone to know that he [p. 227] knew them or had any connection with them. This provoked my grandmother. She resented such rude treatment, -- to think that this elder was ashamed to be seen with the Saints because they had these pits in their faces. And so she made this statement: "He shall die in a ditch." This remark was literally fulfilled, for even though he served as a missionary for the Mormon Church, he became a drunkard and died in a gutter.

After the quarantine was over at the hospital, while very weak from our sickness, we followed the company of Saints up the Mississippi River. It was eight days and eight nights on the steamboat that carried that valiant band of people a little closer to their hopes and dreams. Without bedding of any kind and scarcely enough clothing to cover our bodies, we lay on the rough hard boards of the deck of that steamer at night. We had very little to eat and the cook, seeing Mother so weak and frail, would often bring her some warm soup or gruel which she appreciated and enjoyed very much. Mother only weighed about one hundred pounds.

Catching up with the Saints, we immediately made preparations to start the journey across the plains. There was only one wagon for the ten of us to carry bedding, food and clothing; so you can see there was no room for anyone to ride. Mother and all walked every step of the way. It was a rough, hard journey and only with the help of our Heavenly Father did we ever reach the Valley. . . . [p.228]

. . . The journey was a hard one but I never heard my father or mother or any of the Saints complain. In October we reached the Valley, footsore and weary, but very thankful. . . . [p.229]

BIB: Carter, Sarah Davis, Autobiography. Our Pioneer Heritage. Vol. 12 (1969). pp. 227-29.A
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