THIS is not the place to commemorate the trials and privationsendured by the immigrant Mormons before they came to theirfinal haven. From the shores of the Mississippi to the westernslopes of the Rocky Mountains they had struggled on with aconstancy almost unparalleled in history. The savage man, andthe savage beast, hunger, thirst, fatigue, and disease—everyimpediment which Nature could place in the way—had all beenovercome with Anglo-Saxon tenacity. Yet the long journey andthe accumulated terrors had shaken the hearts of the stoutestamong them. There was not one who did not sink upon his kneesin heartfelt prayer when they saw the broad valley of Utah bathedin the sunlight beneath them, and learned from the lips of theirleader that this was the promised land, and that these virgin acreswere to be theirs for evermore.
Young speedily proved himself to be a skilful administrator aswell as a resolute chief. Maps were drawn and charts prepared,in which the future city was sketched out. All around farms wereapportioned and allotted in proportion to the standing of eachindividual. The tradesman was put to his trade and the artisanto his calling. In the town streets and squares sprang up as if bymagic. In the country there was draining and hedging, plantingand clearing, until the next summer saw the whole countrygolden with the wheat crop. Everything prospered in the strangesettlement. Above all, the great temple which they had erectedin the centre of the city grew ever taller and larger. From thefirst blush of dawn until the closing of the twilight, the clatter ofthe hammer and the rasp of the saw were never absent from themonument which the immigrants erected to Him who had ledthem safe through many dangers.
The two castaways, John Ferrier and the little girl, who hadshared his fortunes and had been adopted as his daughter,accompanied the Mormons to the end of their great pilgrimage.
Little Lucy Ferrier was borne along pleasantly enough in ElderStangerson’s waggon, a retreat which she shared with theMormon’s three wives and with his son, a headstrong, forward boyof twelve. Having rallied, with the elasticity of childhood, from theshock caused by her mother’s death, she soon became a pet withthe women, and reconciled herself to this new life in her movingcanvas-covered home. In the meantime Ferrier having recoveredfrom his privations, distinguished himself as a useful guide and anindefatigable hunter. So rapidly did he gain the esteem of his newcompanions, that when they reached the end of their wanderings,it was unanimously agreed that he should be provided with aslarge and as fertile a tract of land as any of the settlers, with theexception of Young himself, and of Stangerson, Kemball, Johnston,and Drebber, who were the four principal Elders.
On the farm thus acquired John Ferrier built himself asubstantial log-house, which received so many additions insucceeding years that it grew into a roomy villa. He was a man ofa practical turn of mind, keen in his dealings and skilful with hishands. His iron constitution enabled him to work morning andevening at improving and tilling his lands. Hence it came aboutthat his farm and all that belonged to him prospered exceedingly.
In three years he was better off than his neighbours, in six he waswell-to-do, in nine he was rich, and in twelve there were not half adozen men in the whole of Salt Lake City who could compare withhim. From the great inland sea to the distant Wahsatch Mountainsthere was no name better known than that of John Ferrier.
There was one way and only one in which he offended thesusceptibilities of his co-religionists. No argument or persuasioncould ever induce him to set up a female establishment afterthe manner of his companions. He never gave reasons for thispersistent refusal, but contented himself by resolutely andinflexibly adhering to his determination. There were some whoaccused him of lukewarmness in his adopted religion, and otherswho put it down to greed of wealth and reluctance to incurexpense. Others, again, spoke of some early love affair, and of afair-haired girl who had pined away on the shores of the Atlantic.
Whatever the reason, Ferrier remained strictly celibate. Inevery other respect he conformed to the religion of the youngsettlement, and gained the name of being an orthodox andstraight-walking man.
Lucy Ferrier grew up within the log-house, and assisted heradopted father in all his undertakings. The keen air of themountains and the balsamic odour of the pine trees took the placeof nurse and mother to the young girl. As year succeeded to yearshe grew taller and stronger, her cheek more rudy, and her stepmore elastic. Many a wayfarer upon the high road which ran byFerrier’s farm felt long-forgotten thoughts revive in his mind as hewatched her lithe, girlish figure tripping through the wheatfields,or met her mounted upon her father’s mustang, and managingit with all the ease and grace of a true child of the West. So thebud blossomed into a flower, and the year which saw her fatherthe richest of the farmers left her as fair a specimen of Americangirlhood as could be found in the whole Pacific slope.
It was not the father, however, who first discovered that thechild had developed into the woman. It seldom is in such cases.
That mysterious change is too subtle and too gradual to bemeasured by dates. Least of all does the maiden herself knowit until the tone of a voice or the touch of a hand sets her heartthrilling within her, and she learns, with a mixture of pride and offear, that a new and a larger nature has awoken within her. Thereare few who cannot recall that day and remember the one littleincident which heralded the dawn of a new life. In the case ofLucy Ferrier the occasion was serious enough in itself, apart fromits future influence on her destiny and that of many besides.
