I, together with my parents, my two brothers, John August and Anders Gustave, my sister Anne Christine, two sisters in law and three children, left our native land in the latter part of April, 1866 for America. We were thankful that we had thus been blessed of the Lord that we were able to go to Zion where we might live and worship with those of our faith without fear of mob or ridicule. But alas! How short-sighted are we human beings! How little we know what is before us.
We boarded the sailing vessel Cavour at Hamburg June 1st, 1866, for our trip across the great Atlantic. The supply of water was very limited for such a long journey which lasted nine weeks. We were allotted one quart of water per family each day. The water itself was terribly bad. Other rations were likewise limited and of very poor quality. Sickness broke out among the passengers. I was so sick my mother worried much as to whether I would be allowed to land. But that part went all right and we were glad once more to set foot on mother earth and to enjoy the luxury of good cold water, as the weather was warm.
When we landed in New York July 31st, we [p.233] went directly to Castle Garden and from there to Montreal, Canada. We went on a flat steamer that was fired by wood up the St. Lawrence River, and then continued by rail to Chicago and on to Omaha. When we saw the string of cars into which we were being herded, our hearts almost failed us. But what could be done about it? We were on the road and must follow it through, even though we were treated like cattle. For that was the kind of cars the train was made of. But those awful hard and dirty cars proved to be a blessing in disguise, for we had not been long on the train when cholera broke out in a very serious form among the people. The poor stricken souls couldn't have sat up, so with room to spread their bedding down, it was better for them. But oh how they suffered with the jarring and bumping of the cars.
When we had traveled three days, on the fifth of August my dear mother passed away, she being one of the first to go. Her body was left on the station platform at Marcella.
Conditions continued to get worse and when we reached St. Joseph a few days later, my father and sister Christine were left dying on the platform. When I now look back and think of that awful scene, I wonder how we could do it, and I can only think that we saw so much suffering and death that our sense of feeling and sympathy must have been paralyzed. We thought nothing mattered - - the sooner the better.
We met ox teams in eastern Wyoming and started for Salt Lake City on August 13th . . . [p.234]
. . . The company we traveled with was made up of teams and men from Sanpete County. Our captain's name was Ebnar Lowry and he was from Manti. We arrived in Salt Lake on October 27, 1866. Our family was John August and his wife Mary Bengston Warnick, their little girl Caroline and myself. Their baby, born on the way, was numbered among the dead . . . . [p.235]
BIB: Warnick, Charles Peter, [Autobiography], IN Warnick Family
History, vol. 1, pp. 233-35. (CHL)