Various
Heroines of Mormondom
"Well, Bro. Eldredge, if I can be ministered to and get well, I want to now," said Mary.
So the ordinance was performed, and she was indeed instantly healed. From that day for many months she never felt one moment of illness. And she says to me to-day in her simple quaint way,
"I have never been ministered to in my life since, that I did not get better."
Ever since the arrival of the Elders, the Chittendens had opened their house for them to hold meetings in on Sundays. No other place had ever been obtained, so that the meetings of the Saints, or those who were friendly to them, were still held in Mary's cosy sitting-room.
On the 1st of Nov. 1854, Mary had another daughter whom they named Alice. In two weeks she was up and able to be about the house. The Sunday on which the baby was two weeks old, the family had taken dinner, the things had been washed and set away, and all sat in the dining or sitting-room talking of gathering to Zion.
They had eight girls now, and it would take quite a sum of money to emigrate them all to Utah. So thinking to increase their means a trifle, Mary had taken a little motherless boy, about seven years old, his father paying a certain amount a week for his board. This was money and they would never miss his board as they raised everything which they consumed. This little boy was very troublesome and mischievous. He was very fond of playing out in the hired men's bedroom which was over the granary.
On the Sunday of which I am speaking, he was out in the men's room, and there found some matches. He thought he'd have some rare fun then, so out he ran, matches in hand, and made what he called a "pretty fire," right down close to the pig pens. He watched it burn up, quietly at first, and then – whew! – here is a jolly little breeze catches up the flame, and carries it bravely up right on to the roof of the pig-pen. Then how it did sputter, and crackle, and leap. The boy was old enough to see by that time, that something more than a bit of mischief would grow out of that tiny flame. It spread over the pens like a living thing. Frightened now, he sped away, down to the nearest farm-house, running in and shouting to the gentleman, Mr. Root who lived there, "I didn't set the pig-styes on fire; I struck a match, and it blowed."
Mr. Root hitched up his horse to his water-budge, a cask on wheels which he carried water from a lake near the Chittendens' house, and started on the run for the scene of the boy's wickedness. The Chittendens saw him pass their door running to the lagoon or lake. "I'll declare," said Mary, "is Mr. Root going for water on Sunday? I never knew him to do such a thing before!"
Just then Eliza ran in and said, "Father, the shed is full of smoke."
She had been down to gather eggs from the shed.
The barn, pig-styes, cow sheds, granary, poultry houses and stacks were all at the back of the house and about six rods away.
At last, William got up to go down to the shed to see what was the matter.
When he looked out of the back door, what a sight met his eyes – the whole yard in flames! Others had seen the fire, for the farm-house faced the public-road, and people were all passing there on their road to Chapel. But no one except Mr. Root ever offered a hand of help.
"Oh," said they, "it's those d – d Mormons, let them burn up and go to h – ."
The whole family rushed down to the fire and tried to stop its progress but all to no avail. The pigs could not be driven out, and were literally roasted alive. The barn, sheds, pens and every combustible thing went down before the relentless flames. Farm implements of every description, even the grain to the amount of hundreds of bushels, were burned. The flames swept towards the house. Then how they worked. Everything movable was got out, and the roof was torn off; and the men commenced pouring water on the walls to save them.
"Alas for the rarity of Christian charity." If a few brave men had given help when the fire was first discovered, much might have been saved. But when it was all over, and Bro. Eldredge and William had thrown themselves on the ground completely exhausted, and the only Christian who had helped them, Mr. Root, had gone home in the same condition, Mary sat outdoors with a few of her household goods broken and scattered around her, her two weeks' old babe wailing in her arms, and all that was left of their comfortable home, the empty, blackened, smoking walls of the house looming up in twilight fast falling around her! Hundreds of cart loads of burnt grain were carted away for the next few days and buried. How many bright hopes and happy plans were buried at the same time, only the future would tell! The roof was speedily put on again, and things inside made as comfortable as might be.
Bro. Eldredge still advised going out to Utah with what means they could scrape up, but William would only shake his head despondently and say, "I don't see how I can do it."
Mary urged all she dared, for she knew the Elders were about to leave for home. It was no use. The only answer she got was, "not now, Mary, not now."
He found an opportunity about that time of going up into the country a hundred miles with some freight. While he was away a gentleman came to the farm-house and wished to buy the goodwill of the farm.
You will remember William had rented it for twenty-one years. About fourteen years of the lease had expired. The improvements, etc., always went with the lease. So when this gentleman offered to pay three hundred pounds ($1,400) for the remainder of the lease, or the "good-will," as it is termed in that country, Mary thought it a very fortunate thing.
The loss by fire had exceeded three hundred and fifty pounds, or about sixteen or seventeen hundred dollars of our money; and Mary thought if she could sell the lease of the farm, then they could sell what stock and personal property was left them, that making perhaps another two hundred pounds, which might get them all to America. So she sold it; knowing, however, that the bargain would not be legal unless ratified by her husband. She hoped, though, that he would see things as she did. When William reached home Mary told him what she had done.
"Humph; I suppose you know it's of no use unless I give my word, too?"
"Oh, yes," said Mary, sorry to know her husband was so annoyed, "you can, of course, upset it all."
Then she explained all her hopes and plans to him. How they could raise five hundred and fifty pounds, and then they could surely get to America with that tidy sum. "And you know, too, you promised years ago to take me to America."
"And reach there," objected William, "with a big family of little children, and not a shilling to buy 'em bread with. Nice plan, that!"
In vain she argued and plead. William was not to be moved. No one could blame him for not being guided by his wife's advice. Albeit she was a prudent, far-seeing, wise little woman, whose advice had always been proved to be of the best; still the man leads the woman, not woman the man.
But when Brothers Eldredge and Graham counseled him to return with them, it was quite a different matter. They were over him in the Priesthood and had a right to his obedience, even as he exacted obedience from his wife and family. However he still refused, simply saying, "I don't see how I can go just now, Brother Eldredge!"
And so the time passed on, and the Elders left Australia without the Chittendens. The Davis family, who were baptized at the same time as was William and his wife, accompanied the Elders, and part of the same family are now residing in Minersville, Utah.
Here then was the grand mistake of William's life. He did not see it then, nor for years after, but the time came when he wished in the agony of his soul that he had gone to Utah when told to do so, even if he had reached there without one penny to buy a crust of bread on his arrival! Their girls were all with them and unmarried and they could have brought their family unbroken to Utah. But instead of that twenty-three years after they came with the merest remnant of their once large family, leaving almost all their loved ones behind them, and married to enemies of this work.
Is not this a grand lesson for our young Elders? How easy it is to fancy that our own wisdom, especially about our private affairs, is better than any one's else! But when the voice of God speaks through His servants and says, "Do thou so!" woe to the man who turns from that and works out his own will in direct opposition. Let this sink deep into your hearts, my young readers, and remember always, God knoweth best!
CHAPTER IV
Although William was annoyed at the step his wife had taken, he concluded to let matters go as they were. However, much to Mary's chagrin, he took a farm close by, and tried to make another start. Nothing seemed to go right.
On the 24th of July, 1850, Mary gave birth to another daughter, to whom they gave the name of Rachel. The next year another company of Elders came down from Utah under the leadership of Brother Stewart. These also made their stopping place, while in that part of the country, at the home of the Chittendens. But if the Elders met with little success during their former mission, this time seemed a complete failure. No one could be found to give them a moment's hearing. One Brother Doudle came up near Camden, and used every endeavor to gain a foot-hold. Instead of kindness he met with cruelty; and in place of bread they threw him a stone. For two days he traveled and could find neither a place to sit down, a crust to eat nor a thing to drink.
When he got back to the Chittendens, he walked wearily in, and Mary's daughter, Jane, bustled around to get him something to eat. "No," said he, "don't cook me a thing. I want nothing but a piece of bread and a drink of water."
She hastily set what he required before him, and after he had eaten he said, "Sister Jane, you shall receive the blessing for this. I have not broken my fast since I left your house until now. I have had to sleep out under the forest trees. I am now fully satisfied there is no place to be had to hold meeting. I thought as I was leaving the city, shall I shake the dust off my feet as a testimony against this people? No, no; I will leave it all in the hands of God!"
The bitter prejudice of people around Camden grew worse and worse. At last the word went out that all the missionaries were to return to Utah immediately. This was in 1857, when Johnson's army was advancing upon Utah.
Before leaving Camden, the Elders prophesied openly that trouble should fall heavily upon the people who had refused them even a hearing. From that time until the "Mormon" missionaries returned and opened the door of mercy, there was not one stalk of grain raised in the whole district of Camden, and people had been unable to obtain a living.
With what earnest prayers did Mary seek to persuade her husband to go along too! And the Elders counseled him to return with them. But no, he could not feel to go with his helpless family and have little or nothing to support them when he arrived in America. So the last Elder bade them good-by and turned away from their door. Alas! eighteen years passed away before they ever heard another Elder's voice.
William was like his wife, unable to read one word, and all that he knew of this gospel had been taught him orally by the missionaries. He was also very young in the faith, and had not learned the great lesson of obedience nor dreamed its mighty weight in this Church. For this reason God was merciful to him, and did not deprive him of the light of the gospel, but taught him the painful but necessary lesson through much and long tribulation. And his children, although scattered and living most of them in Australia, retain the love of the truth in their hearts.
After the Elders had been recalled, Mary commenced to feel a great brooding darkness settle down over her. In the day she could throw it off, but when night closed her labors and laid her at rest, the darkness would fold around her like a garment. She was anything but a nervous, imaginative woman, and this terrible darkness grew into something tangible to her husband as well as to herself. At last he listened to her and decided to once more sell out and get away.
Two more girls were born to Mary before leaving Camden vicinity. One, Caroline, was born May 10, 1858, the other, Louisa, was born June 25, 1860. Mary had then eleven girls, her two sons having died in infancy. The older girls were very much disappointed that neither of the last two were boys. Especially was this the case when Louisa was born; their chagrin being expressed so loudly that it reached their mother's ears. She was a trifle disappointed herself, but when she heard their comments she was really sad and cast down. The feeling could not be shaken off until the next day; when as she lay dozing, a voice plainly said to her: "You shall have a son, and he shall grow up and be a great comfort to you in your old age." As usual she related the circumstance to her husband and he fully believed in it. He thought he would try "sluicing" for gold in some of the mining camps. The process called "sluicing gold," or washing it, is as follows: A box about a foot wide and two feet long, is fitted with several little boards or slats, about an inch high, across the bottom. This is to make the water ripple over. Into this box the sand is shoveled, and the water washes away the dirt leaving tiny nuggets of gold in the bottom of the box. This is of course in the regions where gold is found plentifully. Rocks are broken up and shoveled in, and often are richer than the sand. But this "sluicing" process is a slow one, so much of the finer portions of gold being washed away. If quicksilver was used to gather the tiny shining metal, it would prove much more profitable, but quicksilver itself is expensive.
So William sold out, and they started up to a place called Lemon Flat in the early Spring of '61. All of a sudden severe rains set in; the country was flooded, and the soft soil became actually impassable. Insomuch so that the family were obliged to relinquish the idea of going to Lemon Flat and turned aside to go to another mining camp called Gunderoo.
While going to Gunderoo the day they reached the outskirts of the town, was a very tiresome one for all. Mary had a light, one-seated carriage, a great deal like the one horse delivery carts in Salt Lake City. She often got out and walked for exercise. In the latter part of the afternoon, the wagon, followed by the girls and their father, walking, pushed ahead to reach the summit of the hills overlooking Gunderoo, or the "gap" as it was called, there to pitch their tents and prepare supper.
Mary, walking near the cart, began to feel a curious weakness creep over her. No pain, only a weakness in every joint. Alarmed at the long absence of their mother, two of the oldest girls hurried back, and found her seated by the roadside unable to proceed another step. They assisted her to rise, and half carried her up the hill to the tents. She whispered to them to put her in bed in the cart where she always slept. They did so. But she grew weaker and weaker. She would faint entirely away, then slowly come back, and wonder feebly what was the matter, and why they all stood around so. Then faint away again, and so on all night. At last Jane remembered her mother had a little consecrated oil packed away, and she searched among the boxes till she found it. They administered to her then, and she revived some. But begged to be taken away from that place.
Her husband felt she might die if he did not comply with her wish, so they started immediately for Yass river. They were traveling along, when Mary's horse gave out. She was obliged then to wait for her husband to return, and get her. She felt much better, and thought she could get out and walk about a little. So she directed the young man who drove her cart to let down the shafts. She got out, but the moment she went to rest her feet on the ground, she fell to the earth. The young man assisted her into the cart again, and then for three months she never stood upon her feet. There was no pain whatever, only an extreme weakness.
While camping on the Yass river the next evening, Mary had a dream which when related sounds like the history of her life for the following twenty years; so true is it in every particular.
She dreamed that she saw herself and her family, traveling, struggling and trying to get a start again. Everything seemed to go against her husband. Sickness came, and she saw herself the only one able to be out of bed. Deadly sickness too, but she was promised that there should be no death. Things seemed to grow blacker and blacker. At last, starvation approached and she saw them all without a morsel of food to eat; everything sold for food, even their clothes. Then when the last remnant of property had been taken from them, the tide turned. She was told they should at last go to Goulburn, where they would break land, and prosperity should once more visit them, and that they should finally reach Zion. The dream was terrible in its reality. She awoke trembling and sobbing, and awaking her husband she told him she had been having a fearful dream.
"I would rather," she added, "have my head severed from my body this minute, than go through what I have dreamed this night."
"Well, wife," answered William, "let us hope it is nothing but a dream."
She related it to him, but he felt too confident in his own strength to believe such a dream as that. It gradually faded from Mary's mind as such things will do, but now and then some circumstance would recall it to her mind with all the vividness of reality.
While camping on the Yass, a stranger came to William and asked him for his daughter Maria, who was then only fourteen years old. William replied that Maria was nothing but a child, and he was an utter stranger, so he could not for a moment think of consenting. Three nights after this, the man stole the girl away, and when morning came and the father discovered the loss, he was almost frantic with grief. He was a most devoted and affectionate father, and he was fairly beside himself with his daughter's disappearance. He spent money like water. Advertised, went from place to place, searched and hired others to search with him, for the missing girl. It was of no use. She was never found.
While searching for her four of his horses wandered away, and only one ever returned. Then, finally giving up in despair, he hired horses and went to Yass city. Arriving there William obtained work for a man named Gallager, at putting up a barn.
They had been settled but a short time when the baby was prostrated with colonial fever. Mary did all she could, but the child grew worse. Four months went by and still there was no improvement. At last Mary persuaded her husband to get a doctor. The doctor came and told the mother there was one chance in a hundred of the baby's life. No signs of life seemed left in the little body, but he ordered her to put a strong mustard poultice over the stomach. "If it raises a blister," said he, "she will live. If not, she is dead."
Into Mary's mind there suddenly flashed her dream. "Sickness, but no death." Well, then, her baby should live.
A short time after the doctor's departure, Mrs. Gallager, a neighbor, came into the tent, and said, "Mrs. Chittenden, let me hold the child."
"No, Mrs. Gallager, thank you, I would rather hold her."
The woman bustled about and got a tea-kettle of water upon the stove.
"What are you doing," asked Mary.
"Getting a bit of hot water. The child is dead, so we will want some water hot."
"She will not die, Mrs. Gallager. She is going to live."
"Why, woman, she is dead now! Her finger nails are black!"
"No, she is not dead," persisted the mother. Who knows the great power and faith of a mother?
Within a few hours the child's breathing became audible. Her recovery was very slow. And while she still lay weak and ill, William was stricken down by the same complaint. He grew rapidly worse. He too lay ill for several months. He was in a very critical condition, but whenever able to speak he would tell Mary not to bring a doctor, for he should recover without one. The turn for the better came at last, and as soon as he was able to get about a little, they determined to go to Lemon Flat. Their first idea in going to Lemon Flat had been to homestead, or "free select" land, as it is called in Australia. However, they were far too poor now to do this, so William got odd jobs to do. He scraped all he could together, and bought a horse for fifteen pounds. But shortly afterwards, he heard of one of his lost animals about eighteen miles up the country, so he made a trip up to find the animal. Arriving at the place, he heard that a Chinaman had just gone to another camp, on the horse. That night he tethered his horse out, and next morning at daybreak went out as usual for him, and behold, he, too, had disappeared, not leaving a track of a hoof to guide anyone in a search for him. So William was at last obliged to trudge wearily home, eighteen miles, carrying his saddle on his back.
And thus one year dragged heavily by. While here Jane was married to John Carter, and Ellen to a Grecian man named Nicolas Carco. Also, just as they were leaving Lemon Flat, Eliza married a Mr. Griffin.
Now they determined to go once more to Gunderoo to try what could be done there. The reason why William wished to go to Gunderoo was, that no matter what came or went, wages could be made by a man in "sluicing gold." Now the family were almost destitute. After their arrival in Lemon, and for months, most of the children lay sick with the colonial fever.