The 3rd of April, 1854, I left for Utah. We took rail for Pittsburg [sic], and boat from there to Cincinnati, and from there to St. Louis, where I met Horace S. Eldredge. There were five or six boys of us who were good teamsters. We asked him for a job to drive team across the plains. He told us if we would furnish our own gun and blankets, we could have the privilege of driving a team to Utah. I accepted these conditions. I went up the Missouri River to Fort Leavenworth that was the outfitting point at that time. I made the most of my situation. I made myself useful, helping to take care of Church freight. The Church had a large train that year. [This is listed in the Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel database as the Orson Pratt/Ezra T. Benson/Ira Eldredge Company (1854). Samuel Linton is not listed in the company, so after the third part posts tomorrow, I will submit the information for the database.]
A man by the name of Bucklen, a returned missionary was in charge of all the wagons and stuff. He did our cooking, but he went off to buy cattle. This left us to do our own or starve. I went 24 hours before I came down to it. None of the others would, so I had to cook. Our old hand came back. I was put to cut wood to make charcoal for blacksmithing. This, and putting wagons together, and loading up freight, and handling half broke cattle, gave us plenty to do. After the first lot of cattle was delivered, I was put to look after them. I did so, and I did not lose anything but a fancy came that was made a present to Brother Eldredge. It was taken a day or two before we started. There were men driving a herd of high bred cattle through to California. They offered me forty dollars a month and a good outfit to ride if I would go with them, but I made choice to stay with the saints and work for the Church, and I have never regretted it.
I drove a big team, the wagon loaded with sheet iron, mill irons, window glass, and woman and 4 children. I got through all safe although we had a stampede on the road. I heard them coming. I stopped my team and stood in front of the leaders and talked to them. They stood still while they ran past on each side of us. We came into Salt Lake City the third of October, 1854 or 56. I went to work for Heber C. Kimball. He set me to digging post holes and shucking corn. He sent me and a prisoner he was taking care of, to cut fire wood up City Creek. He had three teams hauling two trips a day. He kept them going all right. He called me the Irish Yankee. He thought I would do; when my month was up I quit. Mrs. Kimball wanted to know what was the matter. He asked me if he had not treated me right. I told him yes—and if the boys had not treated me right, and his wife, if she had not treated me right. To all this I said yes. I did not like digging and pick and shovel.
The remainder of the winter I worked for the Church up Big Cottonwood Canyon cutting timber.
In the Spring of 1855 I went to work for Bro. Eldredge, and worked for him until the Fall of 1857.
Then I went out to guard Uncle Sam against Johnson’s Army, who were sent out to annihilate the Mormons, but they found it to be a blessing by them leaving food and things they could use. In the spring of 1858 I worked for Brigham Young doing farming, and helping to move the family to Provo and back to Salt Lake. I stayed with him until the Fall of ‘60, then I moved to Nephi.
I forgot to say in the Fall of 1860, I went out after those late hand-cart companies. Had a very hard time. In the month of September 1858 Bishop Hunter sent me and eight others out to meet Rowly hand-cart company. We met them on Ham’s Fork. They were out of flour. The most pleasant trip I ever recollect having, although I came near to losing my life by a party of soldiers that followed us from Fort Bridger a distance of ten miles. They got in trouble with their Captain who was doing something the soldiers didn’t like. He ordered them out of camp. They went on about a mile to a saloon. They wanted to search every wagon and tent. But I went to them and talked to them quietly. They offered me the whiskey bottle. I said I always wanted to see a man drink out his own bottle first. “Well,” he said, “that is sensible.” By this time we had got round to where the other eight boys were, each one having a six shooter in his belt. I had told them we got along with men in peace, and when we could not get along in that way then we got along the best way we could. The one who was making so much noise showed fight, but one of them picked up a rock and said here is one of the Lord’s biscuits, shut your mouth. They went outside the camp and commenced shooting into the camp. It was dark by this time, and there was no one hurt, but it was a miracle.
You can write the remainder of my life as well as I can. (He stopped short, never could get him at it again). [That last note is from Mary Ann Linton Morgan. She continues writing the history in Part 3.]
Part 1.
Part 3.
Photo of wagon from www.flickr.com/photos/tgray/207860417/.
A man by the name of Bucklen, a returned missionary was in charge of all the wagons and stuff. He did our cooking, but he went off to buy cattle. This left us to do our own or starve. I went 24 hours before I came down to it. None of the others would, so I had to cook. Our old hand came back. I was put to cut wood to make charcoal for blacksmithing. This, and putting wagons together, and loading up freight, and handling half broke cattle, gave us plenty to do. After the first lot of cattle was delivered, I was put to look after them. I did so, and I did not lose anything but a fancy came that was made a present to Brother Eldredge. It was taken a day or two before we started. There were men driving a herd of high bred cattle through to California. They offered me forty dollars a month and a good outfit to ride if I would go with them, but I made choice to stay with the saints and work for the Church, and I have never regretted it.
I drove a big team, the wagon loaded with sheet iron, mill irons, window glass, and woman and 4 children. I got through all safe although we had a stampede on the road. I heard them coming. I stopped my team and stood in front of the leaders and talked to them. They stood still while they ran past on each side of us. We came into Salt Lake City the third of October, 1854 or 56. I went to work for Heber C. Kimball. He set me to digging post holes and shucking corn. He sent me and a prisoner he was taking care of, to cut fire wood up City Creek. He had three teams hauling two trips a day. He kept them going all right. He called me the Irish Yankee. He thought I would do; when my month was up I quit. Mrs. Kimball wanted to know what was the matter. He asked me if he had not treated me right. I told him yes—and if the boys had not treated me right, and his wife, if she had not treated me right. To all this I said yes. I did not like digging and pick and shovel.
The remainder of the winter I worked for the Church up Big Cottonwood Canyon cutting timber.
In the Spring of 1855 I went to work for Bro. Eldredge, and worked for him until the Fall of 1857.
Then I went out to guard Uncle Sam against Johnson’s Army, who were sent out to annihilate the Mormons, but they found it to be a blessing by them leaving food and things they could use. In the spring of 1858 I worked for Brigham Young doing farming, and helping to move the family to Provo and back to Salt Lake. I stayed with him until the Fall of ‘60, then I moved to Nephi.
I forgot to say in the Fall of 1860, I went out after those late hand-cart companies. Had a very hard time. In the month of September 1858 Bishop Hunter sent me and eight others out to meet Rowly hand-cart company. We met them on Ham’s Fork. They were out of flour. The most pleasant trip I ever recollect having, although I came near to losing my life by a party of soldiers that followed us from Fort Bridger a distance of ten miles. They got in trouble with their Captain who was doing something the soldiers didn’t like. He ordered them out of camp. They went on about a mile to a saloon. They wanted to search every wagon and tent. But I went to them and talked to them quietly. They offered me the whiskey bottle. I said I always wanted to see a man drink out his own bottle first. “Well,” he said, “that is sensible.” By this time we had got round to where the other eight boys were, each one having a six shooter in his belt. I had told them we got along with men in peace, and when we could not get along in that way then we got along the best way we could. The one who was making so much noise showed fight, but one of them picked up a rock and said here is one of the Lord’s biscuits, shut your mouth. They went outside the camp and commenced shooting into the camp. It was dark by this time, and there was no one hurt, but it was a miracle.
You can write the remainder of my life as well as I can. (He stopped short, never could get him at it again). [That last note is from Mary Ann Linton Morgan. She continues writing the history in Part 3.]
Part 1.
Part 3.
Photo of wagon from www.flickr.com/photos/tgray/207860417/.
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