. . . When I was ready to take the train and part with my mother I felt like I never knew how much I loved her. She offered me clothing in the first fashion, and my brother Jacob offered to pay all expenses to learn to be a milliner if I would stay. I told them I believed I had embraced the gospel of the Lord, which justified me.
I felt so bad my heart seemed to turn over. I had an impression not to look at my mother agin, so I took my babe in my arms, stepped into the train, turned my face toward Zion, and left the home of my childhood, all my kindred and associates, for the gospel's sake.
In February of the year 1849 I set sail for Zion on the old sailing vessel, Zetland, under the command of Captain James Brown. The first night out on the sea no heart can describe my dreary feelings. The rocking of the vessel and the lonely singing of the sailors as they worked with the ropes winding up the masts made the yearnings of my heart go back to my mother with such tenderness that I thought if I could take the wings of a bird I would surely fly to her. I never realized the [p.5] love I had for her before
, but the Lord gave me strength according to my faith and brought me safely through.
When we arrived at New Orleans the cholera was raging. We were transferred to a steamboat and taken to St. Louis. The first day I landed in St. Louis I was walking down Washington Avenue when a gentleman who was sitting reading the morning paper asked me if I wanted a situation. I told him yes. He told me to come and see the old lady. I went in and she said she knew she would like me and felt the same about her. The minister of the Methodist church boarded there, and refused to come to eat because I was sick from the change of food, and he thought I had cholera. I asked the lady of the house, Mrs. Wheetley, if he was not the minister of the church. She told me he was. I told her that he was a preacher of the gospel, neither did he believe the scriptures, for it says, if there are any sick among you let them call upon the elders of the church and they shall lay hands upon them and the prayer of faith shall heal the sick. When the man refused to come to the next meal I told the lady to tell him I had not come to this country to die with the cholera, and that I would live to go to Zion, but he would take the disease and die. All that I said happened, for he never left that house until he was carried out in his coffin.
My husband came to St. Louis to meet me, from Fall Rivers, and told me he had had a dream and thought he departed this life, and saw me left with my child. He said he felt that if either of us had to died it had better be him, for I could take better care of our child than he could. This seemed to be a forewarning to us, for sure enough, he took the cholera and died. I was left alone in the world in a strange country. I used to work at different things and sometimes washing or ironing for the steamboat companies brought in my daily bread.
In 1852 we left to cross the plains, early in the spring. At Winter Quarters we were organized into companies to cross the plains. We had a very pleasant and successful trip and arrived in Salt Lake in time for October Conference. . . . [p.6]
BIB: Harvey, Ann Coope, Autobiography, (Ms 10483), pp 5-6; Acc. #137825. (CHL)