. . .Bidding the land that gave me birth farewell, I left [p.9] the harbor of Göteborg on the Danish steamer bound for Copenhagen, Denmark. There was on the boat a happy lot of Norwegian emigrants, and as we passed along the Swedish Coast we sang together the songs of Zion with much rejoicing. In Copenhagen we met a large number of Danish Saints, and by the time we were ready to sail for Hull, England, we were over five hundred emigrants aboard two boats, all joyfully singing. In Hull we boarded a train for Liverpool.
England we found to be a very pretty country, there were lots of new things to see, and the time went very fast. During our two day stay in Liverpool we were assigned to our places on the big ocean steamer and secured us our mattresses and pillows, etc. which the emigrants in those days furnished themselves with. I had no money and was as usual compelled to ask someone else to help me. A young man from Vestergotland and his sister came to my assistance and thus I also got a mattress to sleep on.
There were nearly a thousand emigrants of all nationalities on the boat. We had a pleasant trip with very little seasickness and arrived in New York as near as I could figure out, 7 minutes past 7 in the morning, on the 7th day of the 7th month, year 1877. As I put my foot on the American soil, I cannot describe the wonderful feeling which came over me. To think that I had arrived in the land of Joseph, the land of liberty, the land of Zion, the land upon which Adam dwelt, the land to which Christ shall come in the last day to set up his kingdom, the land from which God's word is proclaimed to all the earth!
I was grateful then, have been so ever since and shall always be for the wonderful blessing that came to me as a [p.10] reward for my labors in the Lord's vineyard. It would be useless for me to attempt to more fully describe the feelings I on this occasion enjoyed, for I could not, no matter how much I would. Neither shall I attempt to describe the different scenes my eyes beheld, nor the impressions I felt, as the train followed it's way from city to city and from state to state, over fertile fields and long stretches of barren deserts, towards the mountains where the people of God live. On the train we also had a good chance to talk with one another and to sing the songs of Zion.
Many of the younger emigrants discussed their plans for the future, what they should do when they arrived at their destination, what they should build, etc. Somehow it did not seem to arise any question in my mind concerning what I should do, or what would happen after I came to Zion. I only thought of my meeting with Hulda, who I was sure would be at the station when the train arrived there. I knew that as the Lord had taken care of me in the past, he would, if I remained faithful to the gospel, open my way in the future.
It was rather early in the morning on the 15th day of July when the word at last went around that the next station would be Salt Lake City. Everybody in the long train were getting their handbags and other belongings together, and I took mine, a handbag that I had myself made of mattress cloth.
But what was this? Someone called loudly out my name and as I rushed to the window there was L. Dahlquist, my old missionary companion, who had come down to meet me and Hulda [p.11] was there too. It was a joyous meeting. . . . [p.12]
BIB: Carlquist, Carl A. Autobiography (Ms 5463), pp. 9 - 12. (CHL)
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