Manuscript Releases, vol. 11 [Nos. 851-920]

27/65

MR No. 879—Geographical Descriptions and Travel in the Western U.S. in 19th Century

The Mountains of Colorado, 1872—Here I am at Mr. Fair's, husband to your cousin, Addie Clough Fair, looking out and upward upon mountains of perpendicular rocks estimated at five hundred feet high. From the foot of these mountains to the top, upon ledges of solid rocks, slight excavations have been made and houses built in every spot that could be made available by stone foundations. Directly in front of me are several tiers of houses, rising one above another. Never did I behold such a scene as this. There is scarcely a sign of vegetation, no trees, but abrupt, barren rocks. 11MR 115.1

Some of these houses are very nice and expensive. Just before me is a large, fine house, built high on the top of the mountain. A wall of masonry several feet high bears up the front of the house, while the back of the house rests upon the solid ledge drilled and chiseled out for the builders. A very nicely furnished barn is built in the same manner. In stepping out of the house there is not a level place for the feet to stand upon unless built up like a platform. 11MR 115.2

There are but a very few natural yards and these are lower down the mountain and are only one or two feet in width. They build up a yard several feet high, draw dirt and place upon the top of the stone and then have but a few feet to just step out of the doorway. It is only the most wealthy who can afford this extravagance. The [homes of the] poorer class, and even some very nice homes, have not one foot of level land around them. The banker's wife's mother stepped out in one of these high, made yards to hang out clothes. She was sixty years old. She made a misstep, fell from the wall and broke her neck. 11MR 115.3

The streets are exceedingly dusty. Black Hawk is an incorporated city which runs into Central, another incorporated city. Both have eight thousand inhabitants, including Nevada. The mining enterprise keeps the country alive, but they say business is very dull now in the mining region. 11MR 116.1

Mr. Walling took us up, up, up the mountains. We feared sometimes that we should never reach the top. We had a commanding view of the country. We could look down upon Black Hawk and Central, and see all there was of both cities. It looked fearful so high, and below was a fearful precipice of rocks. If the horses had stepped over to one side we should have fallen hundreds of feet. We had a commanding view of the mountains. They were on every side of us. We could distinctly see the high mountains covered with large patches of snow. These banks of snow are estimated to be from fifteen to fifty feet deep. Some of them are perpetual. Frequently the air coming from these snow banks was so chilly, although the sun was shining very warm in the valley, [that] we were obliged to put on extra garments in the mountains. 11MR 116.2

Black Hawk and Central are a rough, seamed, scarred country. Heaps of rocks and dirt that have been cast out from the mining mills and from which the precious ore has been taken, were lying everywhere. We went into one of these, called stamp mills, in Nevada, and saw the machinery at work to separate the ore from the rubbish. It was quite a tedious process, and it was very interesting to see the working of the machinery. We obtained some fine specimens of quartz. The view upon the top of the mountain was most interesting, but words cannot present the picture before your mind in its reality.—Letter 12, 1872, pp. 1-2. (To Edson and Emma White, July 31, 1872.) 11MR 116.3

Landscape and Travel in the Mountains of Colorado, 1872—We have been slowly climbing the ascent with two engines drawing the train. We are upon the summit. One engine has been run off. We are now descending. We are eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. We are one hundred and thirty-some miles from Denver. The scenery is not charming. No farms or cultivated lands from Denver to Cheyenne. It was plains with nothing to relieve the monotony but large herds of cattle, two thousand or more in a herd. 11MR 117.1

Since we left Cheyenne the land is undulating at first, becoming more uneven and the land broken. There are scattering evergreens, scraggy and stunted, apparently growing out of the crevices of the rock. There are large boulders; they seem as regular as if they had been laid by the hand of a mason workman. We have passed five deep cuts covered with a roof that travelers shall not become snowbound. The soil is gravelly sand. Rocks seem to be congealed sand and gravel of a red cast. We have just passed a small house down among the rocks. Among the rocks are little patches of cultivated land. 11MR 117.2

Rocks, rocks everywhere, bearing the appearance of great age. Rocks cast up like fortifications seem as though placed by a workman. I see at this moment immense rocks of singular shape composed of sand and coarse gravel. We are just viewing a shanty. The chimney is topped with a barrel. The door is open and the white heads of four small children are brought to view. No sign of cultivation anywhere in this view. 11MR 118.1

We now leave the rocks and hills behind. The land is more like a plain. In some places four rows of fences are built to protect the roads from drifting snows. 11MR 118.2

Half past four: It is now snowing slowly. It has been quite pleasant all day, not uncomfortably warm or cold. We are now at Red Buttes; elevation 7,336 feet. Castles of rocks and pyramids of rocks of every conceivable shape. 11MR 118.3

A train just passed with two engines, one with six drive wheels, the other with eight. 11MR 118.4

Tuesday morning, September 24, 1872, on the cars: We all are accommodated with berths on the sleeping cars and we rested very well. Took our breakfast this morning with good appetites. A lady named Hafenway spoke to me in the sleeping cars. I think she had heard me, also your father, speak at the Health Institute. She was there when Mrs. Baker left for her home. We had an interesting interview. She is going to California for her health. Her sister is in a precarious condition. She has had hemorrhage of the lungs. Mrs. Hafenway is a banker's wife in Nebraska. She says she was benefited at the Health Institute, but home cares, the charge of three children, keep her debilitated. She says she shall live out of doors the most of the time this winter when not too cold. The climate of Nebraska is varying and changeable. 11MR 118.5

We have just passed a mud village, houses made of mud smoothed so nicely they really looked nice, so nice. We thought them now in process of building, but we learned it was an old settlement left to decay. The village was moved to another section of this barren waste country. We have now passed a village of houses composed of mud, wood, and cloth. Many roofs are covered with cloth and mud placed on the top of cloth. No trees are to be seen anywhere, no cultivated lands. In these villages the railroad men reside. Nothing can be raised here.—Letter 26, 1872, pp. 1-2. (To Edson and Emma White, September 23, 1872.) 11MR 119.1

Traveling by Train From San Francisco to Battle Creek, 1873—Thursday, February 27, 1873: Left San Francisco at 7:00 a.m. We arose at five o'clock to get our breakfast, finish our packing, and get to the boat which took us to Oakland. The people were unwilling to let us leave them, but as there was no one to accompany my husband we felt that it must be right for us to go with him. We took seats in the cars at Oakland at 8:00 a.m. We had a stateroom, retired if we chose to be [apart] from the passengers. I was sick in consequence of passengers being allowed to smoke on the cars. I could not eat; lay down much of the time. We passed much beautiful scenery. Passed Cape Horn, a most romantic and fearful spot, about dark. We felt to lift our hearts to God for His care and protection on the journey, especially in passing such dangerous places. 11MR 119.2

(En route to Battle Creek) Friday, February 28, 1873—It is a beautiful day. We all rested well during the night. I became very sick—headache, stomach sickness. Ate but little through the day. We had pleasant company on the train. My husband felt unusually well. Sister Hall was troubled with pain in her limbs. We saw snow, the first we had seen during the winter.—Manuscript 4, 1873, 13. (Diary, February 27, 28, 1873.) 11MR 120.1

Saturday, March 1, 1873—We have had a beautiful day. We passed this holy Sabbath upon the cars. We kept by ourselves. We changed cars at Ogden. I was very sick all day; could not eat anything. The strong, aromatic smell of cigars affected me seriously. My head was full of sharp pain, my stomach sick. I would break out in profuse perspiration, then become deathly faint and sick. I struggled hard against it. I prayed for help from God. I fainted quite away. Smoking was banished from the car when the conductor learned its effect upon me. My husband, Sister Hall, and myself prayed earnestly, silently, for help from above. How precious was Jesus to me in my pain and perplexity. Our prayers were answered; relief came. From this time I improved. 11MR 120.2

Sunday, March 2, 1873—We had another lovely day. I felt quite well, except for weakness and loss of appetite. We slept well during the night. We passed over the most dreary desert—nothing interesting to be seen but snow and bunches of sagebrush. 11MR 120.3

Monday, March 3, 1873—We have had a beautiful day. We have had no hindrance on account of snow. We passed through many snow sheds. I conversed with a young man who is dying with consumption. He is an infidel I cannot reach. He says when he dies it is the last of him. He has led a dissolute life and dies as the beast dieth. It made the Christian life look so bright in contrast with the gloomy prospects of this poor sinner who could not comfort himself with any bright picture when he should live again. His brightest hope is in no existence beyond the grave. I gave him lemons and tried to make him as comfortable as possible, but sad, sad is the thought of this man's future. A just God he must meet. 11MR 120.4

Tuesday, March 4, 1873—We are still blessed with beautiful weather. My rest was not as good last night. We have a beautiful car, heated with steam pipes. We have lived out of our basket the entire journey with the exception of expending thirty-five cents for sundries. We are losing our appetites. Our friends go out to meals. They frequently expend one dollar each for a hasty meal, and lie down at night restless and cannot sleep because of eating so heartily. We have rested well nearly every night. We took our last meal at one o'clock p.m. Changed cars at Chicago. Arrived at Battle Creek at half past ten p.m. Brother Abbey was waiting with sleigh for us. We came to our own home. Got to rest at (?) o'clock a.m.—Manuscript 5, 1873, 1-2. (Diary, March 1-4, 1873.) 11MR 121.1

Home in Battle Creek—Dear Children, We have received two letters from Edson and I think three from Willie. We should have written you immediately, but I thought Father would write and he thought I would write, so between us both you were neglected. 11MR 121.2

We had a very pleasant journey home with the exception of smoking on board the cars, which made me very sick. For three days I could eat scarcely anything. I could not understand my feelings. I learned that smoking was allowed in the palace car. We paid nearly forty dollars extra for the conveniences of the palace sleeping car. I decided to endure the smoking so as not to be called a fusser. 11MR 121.3

The third day when the aromatic odor of the cigars came to me I became stomach-sick. The most intense pain pierced my eyeballs and back of the eyeballs in my head. It seemed that the top of my head was crashing like broken glass. My distress became very great. I thought I was going into a fit. Large drops of perspiration stood upon my face and my entire body broke out in profuse perspiration. Then came a confused noise in my head and I became blind and fainted entirely away. In half an hour I revived by lemon juice being pressed in my mouth. I knew as soon as I revived that it was the smoking of cigars which had thus affected me. All in the cars were alarmed and smoking was banished from the car. I have not fully recovered from the effects of this illness. 11MR 122.1

In regard to the journey, it could not have been better for us in July. We made close connections and arrived at Battle Creek Tuesday, ten o'clock p.m. Brother Abbey was waiting for us with sleigh. We telegraphed him soon after leaving Chicago to meet us at 10:05 p.m. It seems very nice to rest in our own home on our own good bed after an absence of nine months.—Letter 24, 1873, pp. 1-2. (To Edson and W. C. White, [March] 1873.) 11MR 122.2

Travel by Train Westward to Colorado, 1873—Wednesday, June 25, 1873: My husband and myself occupied the stateroom. Sister Hall and Willie kept the seats in the car and rested very well. We had no dust. We could not have had a more favorable time for traveling. At Cheyenne we changed cars for Denver. The heat on this last one hundred miles was almost beyond endurance. The blood rushed to my head and my face felt burned. The very air seemed hot, and seemed to burn our flesh. It seemed some like the time that will scorch men with heat. We were one hour behind time. We did not get to Denver till about thirty minutes past seven o'clock. We hired an express wagon and were taken to my niece, Louise Walling's. We were well received and we were very weary and glad to get to rest. 11MR 122.3

(Denver, Colorado) Thursday, June 26, 1873—We have all rested well. It has been a cool night. It is a beautiful morning. We walked out to purchase some things, but did not expend anything. 11MR 123.1

(Denver) Friday, June 27, 1873—Another beautiful day. We walked one mile and back from the city stores three times. We ordered mattresses made of white hair and a couple of pillows. We have much confusion among the children. Cannot write. We purchased cloth and batting for comforts; linen for Willie a coat. 11MR 123.2

(Denver) Sabbath, June 28, 1873—We have another beautiful day, but quite warm. We took our writing and walked quite a distance to the shade of a tree to find a quiet place to write. We enjoyed the quiet, but the shade was not sufficient to prevent our being burned by the sun. My husband corrected a sermon which has been reported to be put in Review. We took our simple lunch under the tree. About noon we saw a covered carriage coming towards us. It was Mr. Walling. We decided to start after sundown that night for the mountains. We did not get away from the city until past eight o'clock. We traveled to Golden City and put up at a hotel. We did not get to rest before one o'clock. 11MR 123.3

(Colorado) Sunday, June 29, 1873—We all rested the few hours of the night after we retired. We were on our way about half past seven. We rode about three miles and stopped for breakfast. We purchased milk and had a very good breakfast. The scenery is very grand. Large mountains of rocks stretching toward heaven, tower one above another. My husband endured the journey well. We took dinner and enjoyed eating in the open air. My husband has been wonderfully preserved.—Manuscript 8, 1873, 9, 10. (Diary, June 25-29, 1873.) 11MR 124.1

Travel by Train From Denver to Battle Creek, 1873—(Denver, Colorado) Thursday, November 6, 1873: We are at Denver. We are preparing to leave on the train at six o'clock tonight. Mrs. Walling [Ellen White's niece] is in a very troubled state of mind. She has pursued her course of fretting and scolding her husband and children [Addie and May] until she has weaned his affections from her. He insists that the children shall go with us to California. The mother reluctantly consented. Little May had a little frettish turn, but I was firm and yet gentle with her before her father and mother, and it passed over very well. The mother feels bad. May God show her the error of her ways before it shall be too late. Mr. Walling attended us to the cars and parted with us and his children. The children are perfectly happy with us. 11MR 124.2

(En route to Battle Creek) Friday, November 7, 1873—We had a portion of night's rest. The Legislature sits in Cheyenne, which fills the hotels. No room for us to have a bed until two o'clock; then some beds were vacated. We had a good rest when he did retire. My husband felt his mind turned to Battle Creek. We consulted together and decided to go to Battle Creek and send Sister Hall on with the little children. To this she agreed cheerfully. We arranged our trunks and parted, Sister Hall going to California and we turning our course to Battle Creek.—Manuscript 13, 1873, 1. (Diary, November 6, 7, 1873.) 11MR 124.3

Travel by Train From Omaha to Oakland, 1873—Dear Children, Edson and Emma: We are seated in the cars at Omaha en route to California. We have made our transfer all right. Now we have only one more change to make before we shall reach Oakland, California. This is appreciated by us who have so great an amount of baggage. We slept excellently well last night. Your father is feeling quite well for him. He is cheerful. We have seen but little snow thus far. The weather is mild indeed for this season. In two days we shall reach the summit, then we may be sensible of a change and experience cold weather.—Letter 23, 1873, p. 1. (To Edson and Emma White, December 24, 1873.) 11MR 125.1

Travel by Train From Odgen to Sacramento—Dear Children Edson and Emma, We have been passing over the plains through a very barren, desolate-looking country. Nothing of special interest to be seen but a few herds of buffalo in the distance and an antelope now and then. 11MR 125.2

The scenery over the plains has been uninteresting. Our curiosity is excited somewhat in seeing mud cabins, adobe houses and sagebrush in abundance. But on we go. From Cheyenne the engines toiled up, up the summit against the most fearful wind. The iron horses are slowly dragging the cars up the mountain to Sherman. Fears are expressed of danger, because of the wind, in crossing the Dale Creek bridge—650 feet long and 126 feet high—spanning Dale creek from bluff to bluff. This trestle bridge looks like a light, frail thing to bear so great weight. But fears are not expressed because of the frail appearance of the bridge, but in regard to the tempest of wind, so fierce that we fear the cars may be blown from the track. In the providence of God the wind decreased. Its terrible wail is subdued to pitiful sobs and sighs, and we passed safely over the dreaded bridge. We reached the summit. The extra engine was removed. We are upon an elevation of 7,857 feet. No steam is required at this point to forward the train, for the down grade is sufficient for us to glide swiftly along. 11MR 125.3

As we pass on down an embankment we see the ruins of a freight car that had been thrown from the track. Men were actively at work upon the shattered cars. We are told that the freight train broke through the bridge one week ago. Two hours behind this unfortunate train came the passenger cars. Had this accident happened to them, many lives must have been lost. 11MR 126.1

As we near Ogden the scenery becomes more interesting than the sagebrush, dugouts, and mud cabins. There are grand, high mountains towering toward heaven, while these are interspersed with mountains of less size. As far as the eye can see them mountaintops rise above mountains, peak above peak, ridge on ridge, intermingled, while the snow-capped heights glitter under the rays of sunlight, looking surpassingly lovely. As we looked at the varying beauty of this Rocky Mountain scenery, we were deeply impressed with the greatness and majesty of God. We long to have a little time to view at leisure the grand and sublime scenery which speaks to our senses of the power of God, who made the world and all things that are therein. But a glance only at the majesty around us is all we can enjoy. 11MR 126.2

Between Ogden and Sacramento the eye is constantly delighted with the wonderful scenery. Mountains of every conceivable form and dimension appear. Some are smooth and regular in shape, while others are rough, huge granite mountains, their peaks stretching heavenward as though pointing upward to the God of nature. There are blocks of smooth, timeworn rock, piled one above another, looking as though squared and chiseled by instruments in skillful hands. There are high overhanging cliffs, gray old crags and gorges clad with pines, continually presenting to our senses scenery of new interest. We come to the Devil's Slide. There are flat rocks set up like gravestones of nearly equal depth running from the river up the mountainside far above us a quarter of a mile, which mountain is covered with grass and shrubs. The stones are from fifty to two hundred feet high, standing upon their edge as though malletted into the rocky mountain. There are two stone walls, about ten feet apart, of this masonry. The space between is covered with green foliage. It is a most interesting and wonderful sight.—Letter 18, 1873, pp. 1-2. (To Edson and Emma White, December 27, 1873.) 11MR 127.1

Dear Children Edson and Emma: We have been passing over the plains, through a very barren, desolate-looking country. Nothing of special interest, but a few herds of buffalo, occasionally an antelope. 11MR 127.2

The scenery is uninteresting. Mud cabins, adobe houses, sagebrush in abundance of a very strong flavor. But on we go and the engine toils up, up, up against the most fearful wind we ever experienced. It is all the two iron horses can do to drag the train slowly up the mountain. Fears are expressed that there is danger of crossing the bridge which spans Dale Creek from bluff to bluff. It is 650 feet long and 126 feet high. In the providence of God the wind decreased its fearful wail to a piteous sob and sigh and we went safely over. The summit is gained and now we pass through a tunnel excavated through the rocky mountain. We stop a short time for the second engine to be removed and then we pass along very pleasantly. We cross another bridge and down the embankment we see the shattered ruins of a freight train. We are told it broke through the bridge the week before. It was two hours in advance of the passenger cars. If the passenger cars had met with this disaster many lives might have been lost. 11MR 127.3

As we near Ogden we have a change of scenery—something more grand than sagebrush, mud cabins, and dugouts. There are grand mountains and wonderful, towering mountains of masonry, filling our hearts with awe and wonder. Gladly would we linger and view more definitely and fully the different wonderful, varying scenes presented to the senses, but on, on steadily moves the iron horse giving us but a glance at the wonderful works of God in nature. 11MR 128.1

I hesitate whether to place my pen upon paper to give you even the faintest, slightest description of the wild, romantic scenery of the Rocky Mountains. Immense mountaintops rise above mountains. Some mountains of lesser dimensions are wavy and appear smooth and regular in shape. Mountains of masonry have the appearance of being hewed, squared, chiseled, and polished by art and piled one above another in grand towers, stretching upward toward heaven as though directing the minds of all who look upon them to God. 11MR 128.2

Then we see abrupt bluffs and singular shaped rocks of every form, huge and without comeliness, having the appearance as though thrown together in most beautiful disorder. We come to a wall of rocks, flat and broad as though chiseled from the quarry and arranged by art one flat stone overlapping another, two walls almost exactly similar about ten feet apart running straight up the steep sides of the Rocky Mountains for one quarter of a mile. This strange piece of masonry is called the Devil's Slide. 11MR 129.1

But I become discouraged at the poor efforts I have made in describing the scenery of nature. 11MR 129.2

Some of the mountains are interspersed with dwarfed and stunted evergreens.—Letter 19, 1874, pp. 1-2. (To Edson and Emma White, December 27, 1873.) 11MR 129.3

Travel by Horse-drawn Wagon in Northern California, 1874—Stretching to the right and left before us was still a rapid-running, deep, broad river. We were in a quandary what to do. Your father and I unhitched the horses again. He mounted Kit's back while I had all that I could do to keep restless Bill from breaking away from me and following his mate. Your father crossed and recrossed the river twice to make sure the way of safety for the carriage. The water came above his boots. We marked the course he took by a mountain on the opposite side. We hitched our horses to the wagon the second time, at nine o'clock at night, and passed over to the other side. The water came up to the body of the wagon. We felt to thank God and to take courage.... 11MR 129.4

Santa Rosa: We are now at home. Brother [D. M.] Canright is here. He is certain that Cloverdale is the wrong place for the tent. Cloverdale is a most romantic place, surrounded by mountains, but the inhabitants are a drinking class. It is the terminus of the railroad. It is not surrounded by a farming community. 11MR 129.5

I am satisfied our duty is upon this coast this summer. We will write you again soon.—Letter 67, 1874, pp. 1, 2. (To W. C. White, April, 1874.) 11MR 130.1

Travel by Train by Herself From Oakland to Newton, Iowa, 1874—June 4, 1874: Left Oakland this morning for Omaha, for the purpose of attending the camp meeting at Newton, Iowa. I cannot obtain a sleeping berth and must ride day and night in the car, and then attend the meeting and labor hard. May God help me to do my duty. 11MR 130.2

We have resided at Oakland about four weeks. I have spoken at Oakland and Brooklyn about six times under the tent. There has been a great excitement there upon the local-option question. The leaders of this temperance movement are women, aided by men. The large tent was granted them and they held their meetings in it for one week. Oakland gained the day upon temperance. There was a majority of 260 votes in favor of no license. The excitement is now changed to Brooklyn. 11MR 130.3

June 6, 1874—We left Ogden about eight o'clock a.m. We shall arrive at Omaha Monday morning. Mountains are surrounding us, covered with snow. It is indeed a most grand sight. We have passed the Devil's Slide—a strange looking sight indeed. The wonderful sights we pass are very interesting. 11MR 130.4

June 8, 1874—We arrived at Omaha at two o'clock p.m. Here I rechecked my trunk. This was new to me. The day was oppressively hot, but we were at last all ready to go on our way. We traveled until twelve o'clock at night. We stepped off the car at Newton [Iowa], found Brother Hart waiting for me. We rode half a mile through the mud to the campground. We quietly entered Brother [G.I.] Butler's tent and I rested my weary body upon a hard straw bed with a straw pillow. It rained powerfully.—Manuscript 4, 1874, 1. (Diary, June 4-8, 1874.) 11MR 131.1

Journey From Chicago to California, 1875—Dear Willie: We are now on board the palace car. Have good berths secured in the center of the car. 11MR 131.2

We all found good lodgings at Wilbur's. They are usually well. 11MR 131.3

Father heard some men talking in regard to the fare to California, that they got tickets from Boston cheaper for signing a paper that they had a time ticket, that is, do not stop off. We got our tickets for California for $106 from Chicago. We are all feeling quite well this morning. 11MR 131.4

There are some things we will think and talk of in regard to on the cars and write our decision. Mary is cheerful and feeling all right. 11MR 131.5

We hope that you and Lucinda will not overdo, for we want Anna and Lucinda and Willie to enjoy the trip when you come.—Letter 2, 1875, p. 1. (To W. C. White, January 28, 1875.) 11MR 131.6

Dear Willie,

We are in good spirits and all are well. Weather is pleasant but cold. We are free from dust and cinders also, for we have to keep the windows closed. We are anxious to hear from you all and hope to have a letter from you soon after reaching Oakland. 11MR 131.7

Our walnuts are just splendid. Willie, put in the box those you do not use. You must prepare some for yourself on the way. I want Lucinda to be sure and make every preparation to come to California. 11MR 132.1

At two o'clock we are at Pulpit Rock. There is a wildcat and small mountain lion. 11MR 132.2

We are delayed. It is now half past two. The passengers got no breakfast before two o'clock. They were an uneasy, hungry set. We have enough to eat and are cheerful and feeling tolerably well.—Letter 5a, 1875, p. 1. (To W. C. White, January 31, (?), 1875.) 11MR 132.3

On the Train, Nearing Chicago, 1875—I left Oakland none too soon. We have had the most favorable, pleasant trip across the plains this time that we ever had. There has been no dust or cinders. Our companion travelers have been, with scarcely an exception, agreeable, very courteous. We have not been crowded any of the way. Some have kept their berths made up all day. We have had an entire section to ourselves. I am rested on this journey and shall step off the car with improved health.—Letter 15, 1875, pp. 1-2. (To Edson and Willie White, May 4, 1875.) 11MR 132.4

On the Train, Near Sparta, Wisconsin, 1875—Dear Children, Edson and Emma: The lamps are being lighted. We shall soon pass through a tunnel. We have passed through three tunnels; the last was the longest. I inquired of the conductor its dimensions. He told it me was 3,812 feet long and 266 feet under ground. 11MR 132.5

The conductor tells us there is beautiful scenery before us. We find it even so—granite rocks, beautiful trees, green fields, and cultivated lands. Here is revealed indeed a beautiful picture of nature's loveliness. The air is pure. Nature seems fresh-robed in her natural lovely dress of green. The waving grain and cultivated soil, the lofty trees with their bright green foliage, make even this world very beautiful. God has given to us tokens of His love. We may read His love in the book of nature. Every tree, every shrub and bud and blooming flower tells us God is love. We look up through the things of nature which God has hung before our senses in His created works, and we adore the Giver. 11MR 132.6

The train is delayed a short time. There has been a washout. But the conductor thinks the train will not be long delayed. We are again moving, passing slowly over the dangerous road. 11MR 133.1

We shall get to the campground tonight. No rest. Just time to get from meeting to meeting. 11MR 133.2

At the Jewel Hotel in Wyoming, about three o'clock: We are disappointed in getting through tonight. We learned about one hour since that there were several breaks in the road and no means of transfer. One washout is forty rods long. We have secured a room in a hotel until tomorrow at eleven o'clock when we shall, if Providence favors, go on to the camp meeting. We deeply regret this delay, but make it a point to be surprised at nothing that may occur and not to become impatient or faultfinding. This place presents a very attractive appearance and the surrounding scenery is lovely. There are low bluffs covered with trees and verdure.—Letter 19a, 1875, pp. 3-4. (To Edson and Emma White, June 24, 1875.) 11MR 133.3

Near Eagle Lake, Minn., 1875—I send you [W. C. White] manuscript for paper, written mostly while the cars were in motion, in depots, and in almost every inconvenient position. We are now in the midst of camp meeting. Everything is wet in consequence of two days of rain. 11MR 134.1

We were hindered on the road. At Wyoming we were told there was a washout and the cars would not pass over the road until next day. We tarried at Jewel Hotel, hired a room, and engaged in writing. Next day we took the cars, rode about sixteen miles, then came to a sudden standstill. The freight cars had, in passing over the break in the road, broken through; so we waited in the cars from two o'clock until eight before the break could be repaired. I improved this time in writing. We did not reach Eagle Lake [Minnesota] until three o'clock in the morning. While waiting on the track for breakage to be repaired, the heavens gathered blackness. We had a severe storm of thunder and lightning, rain and blow. We learned this storm had spent its force before it reached us.—Letter 21a, 1875, p. 1. (To W. C. White, June 27, 1875.) 11MR 134.2

On the Train Between Ogden and Sacramento—Dear Children: We have had a trying day today. We are on the plains and the whole surface of the ground is nearly as white as snow, encrusted with alkali. We have been on the road since Sunday morning at two o'clock, five days and four nights. Everything has thus far been very favorable. 11MR 134.3

We have been, until today, remarkably free from dust. It has been cool and very pleasant. We have rested some and written considerable; this, with the care of our children, Addie and May, [Addie and may walling, Ellen White's nieces, whom she reared as her own daughters.] has taxed me considerably. Not that the children have been unusual and unmanageable. They are good children. They are universally cheerful and happy and willing to obey our expressed wishes, cheerfully. This has lightened my burden of care wonderfully. Were these children as unruly and boisterous as many children in this car, I should be indeed worn out before this time, but their innocent ways and happy laughs are contagious. We cannot be otherwise than cheerful. 11MR 134.4

On this train, in this car, are many wealthy families traveling with their children. One family, residents of Oakland, California, have four children, bold, quarrelsome, impolite, and generally disagreeable.—Letter 33, 1875, p. 1. (To Dear Children, September 22, 1876.) 11MR 135.1

Near Laramie Plains, Wyoming, 1876—Dear Children, We rested well last night. Our quarters are not nearly as good as in the stateroom when we left Oakland. But we are making the best of the situation and are therefore quite comfortable. Our comfortable condition is made by the tone of our feelings within. None can but be happy, if they take the happy with them. If we are connected with heaven, the content and peace and happiness of heaven will be ours. Our slights, our neglects, our sorrows and griefs, will not, cannot, depress the heart that is borrowing its strength and serenity from heaven. I have enjoyed my breakfast this morning. Food good. I have eaten no cake, but little cheese, but little——[word illegible]. Love the brown bread; brown turnovers turned out their inward treasury in the oven, leaving nothing but crust for us. But we have plenty that is good beside this. 11MR 135.2

I feel that I am right. Praise the Lord for the evidence we have of His care and protection on this journey. Mary does all the caretaking and general matters through excellently. She is very thoughtful of my comfort, kind and attentive. 11MR 136.1

Yesterday while waiting for a train, we got off and were looking for a stone or something as a memento. A lady said she had picked up some specimens which she would give me. She gave me freely specimens of moss agate, petrified wood and bits of petrified sage. She said she had come to visit her sister who lived at the station, and she would stay a week and could get all she wished. I thought it was certainly very kind and liberal of her to thus accommodate a stranger.—Letter 28a, 1876, p. 1 (To Dear Children, May 24, 1876.) 11MR 136.2

From Omaha to Kansas City, 1876—Dear Children, Willie and Mary: We arrived at Omaha about 3:30 p.m. We were immediately put on the sleeping car for Kansas City. Had good accommodations; rested well until four. We were then obliged to leave the train. We are waiting at a hotel close by depot to take the train at ten o'clock for nearest station to Melvern, which is Barbondale Avenue. We know not how far the station will leave us from the campground, but we may find definite directions there. We have endured the journey well. I have a headache this morning, but this is nothing strange, being on the road so long. I have eaten the first warm meal this morning. Mary has eaten twice on the road. We have not taken the nearest route, but the best we could take, because tickets were not sold through. Others came the same route we have taken because it was the best and cheapest, so we have come the best way. I thought you would be relieved to hear this. We will write you as soon as we can after we get on the ground. We will not write much more now, but will get off another today.—Letter 29, 1876, p. 1. (To Willie and Mary White, May 25, 1876.) 11MR 136.3

On the Cars En route to Council Bluffs, Iowa, 1876—Now in Iowa: In two hours shall be at Council Bluffs. Tomorrow shall take the cars for Marshalltown, Iowa. Must travel all day tomorrow. 11MR 137.1

Dear Children, Willie and Mary, I thought as my letter written day before yesterday has not yet been mailed I would write a word more on the cars. 11MR 137.2

Yesterday we arose early and rode through miles over rough road to see the train move grandly out of the depot, leaving us behind. We then went to Brother O'Brien's and waited till next morning. This was the most distressing day to us we have passed for a long time. We were all three debilitated. I very much so. 11MR 137.3

It is cooler today and we all feel better. We arose very early, rode to the depot six miles and took the cars at half past six and have been riding all day. It is now 5:00 p.m. 11MR 137.4

I find when the entire burden of labor rests on your father and myself, we do not find time and have not strength to write even letters. But Brother [Uriah] Smith will join us in Iowa so that we shall be better able to write we hope. 11MR 137.5

We have had very good meetings in Kansas and Missouri, but the best was in Kansas.—Letter 31a, 1876, p. 1. (To Willie and Mary White, June 7, 1876.) 11MR 138.1

On Board the Train En route for California, 1877—Dear Children: All well as usual. Father slept more than he has done for many nights. He also slept over one hour through the day yesterday. It was a clear, cold night. No fire in the cars. We depended on a foot stone till we had no fire to warm it; then by much exertion we obtained our tin can of hot water. They would not let us or the porter have any hot water at Omaha. Sister Clemmens went to the restaurant, the depot and two private homes. All said they had none. Rum and liquor of all kinds could be obtained readily, but not a drop of hot water. Mary went to a hotel and obtained warm water, but not hot. This she had to heat herself and dared not wait longer for fear of being left. She then started out with a determination and went to a private house and succeeded in getting our can filled. This was fortunate for father's feet were almost freezing cold. The porter filled the can at night and it remained warm all night. He was comfortable. Today he is comfortable. All are crying out now at the prairie fires. Mary has cooked father's breakfast over the little stove and we have all had hot drink. She has just heated water to fill father's can. It is made hot and it will retain its heat a long time. Tell the tinner it is a complete success—size just right.—Letter 21, 1877, p. 1. (To Dear Children, October 11, 1877.) 11MR 138.2

Dear Children,

All well as usual. Father slept splendidly last night. We all rested well. Father enjoyed his breakfast this morning. He ate quite heartily. Mary obtained some nice graham flour at Cheyenne. And we have now warm gruel at our meals. Father is cheerful and we think much better, if we can judge by appearances, than when he left home. We get to Ogden tonight at half past six o'clock. We have plenty to eat. We get hot water to fill the tin can and it keeps warm all night. Filled in the morning it keeps warm all day. Mary is an excellent general on such a trip. She manages splendidly. 11MR 139.1

I am getting rested. No fire in car. We feel inconvenienced from cold for some hours in the morning. Then we are comfortable all day. Not much danger of catching heat in this car. It is altogether better for us all. It is so good to be supplied with warm clothing to make us comfortable. He has his warm can of water, warm blankets and his warm egg every morning—just as he had it at home. We all strive our best to gratify every wish. 11MR 139.2

We are looking forward with pleasure to our arrival at Oakland. We shall be better off there than at any other place this cold winter. 11MR 139.3

May God preserve you my children and bless you and Aunt Mary. Cling to the Mighty One, hold fast to the promises. They will never, never fail. Bear your whole weight upon them and test them. Live in God. Our hours of probation are short at best. Work in God, put self out of sight, but let Jesus appear as the chiefest among ten thousand and the One altogether lovely. 11MR 139.4

Much love to the entire household, especially to my little girls [Addie and May Walling]. I hope that they will learn to come and serve God early. They are none too young to give their hearts to God.—Letter 22, 1877, p. 1. (To Dear Children, October 12, 1877.) 11MR 139.5

Dear Children,

We have just had a nice walk for twenty minutes at Carlin. Father walked all the time. We rested well last night. Father is cheerful and happy, although our provision is getting stale and dry. Only three meals more. We have splendid gruel equal to custard cooked by Mary upon our little stove. 11MR 140.1

This car is well warmed, but it was very cold this morning even in the car. We could write our names on the frosted windows. The scenery now is alkali and sagebrush. We meet plenty of Indians at Carlisle Station. There is one Indian on the train in irons who was engaged in the last massacre. He is to be taken to the reservation for trial. 11MR 140.2

We are all doing well and are looking forward to the time when we shall arrive at our Oakland home. The cars jostle so I cannot write more.—Letter 23, 1877, p. 1. (To Dear Children, October 13, 1877.) 11MR 140.3

From Sioux Falls, SD, to Colorado, 1879—We are anxious to get to Colorado where it is cooler. We take the stage tomorrow, ride twenty-five miles, then take the cars and ride sixty-five miles, then change and ride seventy-five miles; then stop over, and next day ride twenty-five miles to Omaha.—Letter 22a, 1879, p. 1. (To Addie and May Walling, July 14, 1879.) 11MR 140.4

On the Train En Route for California—Dear Sister Lizzie: [Probably Ellen White's sister, Elizabeth bangs.] After I left you Monday, I was very sick. Tuesday, nervous and suffering with headache, unable to sit up. Tuesday night we arrived at Council Bluffs. There we stopped off to visit Sister Milner. After walking about half a mile we found her not at home. I had not tasted food through the day and was still suffering with nervous headache. We walked back to a hotel, the nearest one we could find. It was not very promising. We were shown to our rooms—two very small rooms above the kitchen. In the rooms were only small windows, one in each room. 11MR 140.5

The scent of cooking had full access to these rooms with no current of air to take away the nauseating smell of ham, pork, onions, cabbage, and all kinds of scents. If I had not heretofore been most thoroughly disgusted with pork, I should have been [so] now. I could scarcely refrain from vomiting. I became sick and faint, but my good daughter Mary opened the window as far as possible and moved our bed so that the head of it was close by the window, the bed being quite nice. We slept well and felt refreshed in the morning, notwithstanding unpleasant odors. 11MR 141.1

We took the transfer car to Omaha. We enjoyed our breakfast very much. There came into the depot a woman about forty years old, followed by a large flock of children. One boy about ten years old went out on the platform. His mother went after him and came dragging him in, he resisting at every step. She pushed him with violence into the seat bringing his head with considerable force against the back of the seat, really hurting the lad. Then came screech after screech, equalled only by the screaming engine. His mother threatened him, but to no purpose. He was in for regular war-cry. When he became tired out, he lowered his voice to the monotonous long- drawn-out drawling cry just for the purpose of being persevering and revengeful. Here the mother, I judge, was as much to blame as her boy. The boy was stubborn, she was passionate.... 11MR 141.2

We purchased our sleeping-car tickets—sixteen dollars—to Ogden. We should be two days and a half and two nights reaching there. We obtained two lower berths and were told that if we had applied the day before we could not have been accommodated. But the travel was light from Omaha that day, which was much in our favor. 11MR 142.1

On leaving Omaha we found ourselves—and numerous baskets and satchels—well disposed of in an elegant palace sleeper, only seventeen passengers in our car, no babies to cry, no invalids to exclaim, “Please close the ventilators. Will you shut down that window!” We are at perfect liberty to open and close windows for our convenience. There was nothing special to engage our attention Wednesday night but the prairie fires. These looked grand and awful. In the distance while the train is slowly moving onward, we see the long belts of lurid flame stretching for miles across the prairie. As the wind rises the flame rises higher and becomes more brilliant, brightening the desolate plains with their awful brightness. We see farther on, haystacks and settlers’ homes guarded with furrows broken by the plow to protect their little homes. We saw dark objects in the distance guarding their homes from the fire fiend by throwing up embankments. 11MR 142.2

Thursday morning we arose from our berths refreshed with sleep. At eight o'clock we took a portion of the pressed chicken furnished us by the matron of the Sanitarium, put the same in a two-quart pail and placed it on the stove and thus we had good hot chicken broth. The morning was very cold and this hot dish was very palatable. I limited myself to only one meal each day during the entire journey. When the cars stopped at stations any length of time we improved the opportunity by taking a brisk walk. Generally in approaching Cheyenne and Sherman I have difficulty in breathing. 11MR 142.3

Thursday noon we were at Cheyenne and it was snowing and cold; could not walk much that day. “All aboard” was sounded about half past three and again we were moving onward. Nearing Cheyenne we were interested by the view of the Rocky Mountains. Dark clouds obstructed our view. As we neared Laramie we were having a hailstorm. Occasionally the sunlight would break through the clouds, striking full upon the mountaintops, but night drew on and we were all huddled together while preparations were being made for us to occupy our berths. This night the wind blew the coal gas into the windows, nearly suffocating me. I was afraid to sleep. This night was the only disagreeable one upon the route. In the morning after we had taken our breakfast from our well-filled dinner baskets, we felt much refreshed. I wrote several pages back to Battle Creek. Here we began to come to scenery worth our attention. 11MR 143.1

The cars move slowly and smoothly along giving the passengers a fair chance to view the scenery. An additional engine is added to help draw the train up the summit of Sherman. We reached Sherman about six o'clock and had no inconvenience in breathing. The elevation between Cheyenne [and Sherman] is two-thousand-and -one feet, the distance nearly thirty-three miles. The ascending grade averages from Cheyenne sixty-seven feet per mile. The two engines puff and blow as if requiring a powerful effort to breathe. At length the summit is reached and the descent begins two miles west of Sherman. We cross Dale Creek bridge. It looks frail, as if incapable of sustaining the ponderous train, but it is built of iron and very substantial. A beautiful narrow, silvery stream is winding its way in the depths below. The bridge is 650 feet long, 126 feet high, and is considered a wonderful affair in this route. 11MR 143.2

We look in the valley below and the settlements look like pigeon houses. We pass rapidly down the grade through the snow sheds and granite cuts. We have now as we pass on a full view of the Diamond peaks of the Medicine Bow Range. They are with their sharp-pointed summits pointing heavenward, while their sides and the rugged hills around them are covered with timber. When the atmosphere is [clear] the snowy range can be distinctly seen clothed in the robes of perpetual snow. A chilliness creeps over you as you look upon them so cold, so cheerless, and yet there is an indescribable grandeur about these everlasting mountains and perpetual snows. 11MR 144.1

But night draws her sable curtains around us and we are preparing to occupy our berths for the night. The wind was blowing strong against us, sending the smoke of our heating stove into every opening and crevice in the car. I slept, but awoke with a suffocating scream. I found myself laboring hard for breath. The coal gas was so stifling I could not sleep for hours—dared not sleep. This was the most disagreeable night that I had on the journey. In the morning I felt better than I expected. We again prepared our breakfast, making a nice hot broth. Our two tables were prepared, one in each seat, and we ate our nice breakfast with thankful hearts. The porter, well-filled with silver donations, was very accommodating, bringing lunch baskets, making room, and depositing our baggage with all pleasantness. 11MR 144.2

We are known on the train. One says, “I heard Mrs. White speak at such a meeting.” The book agent, a fine young man from Colorado, says he heard Mrs. White speak in the large mammoth tent in Boulder City. He was a resident of Denver. We have agreeable chats with one and another. As we move on slowly over the great American desert, with no objects in sight except sagebrush and distant mountain peaks, we seem more like a ship at sea. The massive train headed by our faithful steam horse, moving along so grandly, seems like a thing of life. You look occasionally back from the rear of the cars upon the straight track hundreds of miles with scarcely a curve, while wilderness and desolation meet you whichever way you may look. Passing Cheyenne, we soon entered snow sheds constantly varying from light to darkness and from darkness to light—the only change for miles. 11MR 145.1

I had been growing stronger as I neared Colorado. We were telegraphed to Ogden soon after leaving Omaha for seats in the car for California, and our seats were assigned us just as we were located in the car. We leave therefore. It is always best to secure good seats when you take the palace car from Omaha for that secures you good seats all the trip. Now the tickets have to be purchased at the ticket office before the baggage can be taken into the car. We are all settled some time before the sun has passed out of sight beyond the mountains.—Letter 6a, 1880, pp. 1-7. (To Lizzie [Bangs?], February 6, 1880. Portion printed in The Review and Herald, June 17, 1880.) 11MR 145.2

Near Kansas City, Missouri, 1884—We had a very pleasant season with our brethren, then were taken in the hack back to depot. From this point we had a dusty time; could not sleep well. The smoke from the engine was blown back and it was very strong and throat and lungs were severely affected with this coal smoke. But all this is over. We are at Edson's. He is pleasantly situated in a location separate from other houses and standing high and dry. The location is every way better then the one they had before. I cannot write all I would be pleased to write, for I am not feeling [as if I had] much life and energy. I had a severe pain in my heart yesterday. Today my hip troubles me considerably.—Letter 49, 1884, p. 2. (To Children, August 10, 1884.) 11MR 145.3

On Eastbound Train, Nearing Reno, 1884—To Willie and Mary. Nearing Reno: Will be at Reno in one half an hour. We had a very good night's rest. After you left us, we were told our position was in the next car and thither we went, seated ourselves, and found it was filled with men. We were the only women in the car. At night we had two other women. We had tobacco effluvia creeping into our car, which made my heart very active and my throat and lungs sore, but I may not be troubled as much today. My head aches some, but I feel of good courage. 11MR 146.1

We have no checks for trunks. Probably you have discovered this, as well as we. We reasoned [that] the checks will be forwarded to Kansas City. We learned there was a washout at Truckee. The train coming west was delayed, I think, one day and a half. This is all the news I have to write. 11MR 146.2

Willie, I wish Elder Waggoner and yourself would, in connection with those in St. Helena, put Sister Ings in officially as matron of the institution there. This will give character to her work. We have not yet taken lunch, so I cannot speak understandingly of our liberal outfit, but will tell you in our next [letter] how this suits us. I am not as debilitated as last year and think I will do well. My trust is in God. Will write again today when I may have something to write. 11MR 146.3

P.S. Nearing Elko Station; about six o'clock. We have had a very pleasant day. A number of men stopped at Reno. Brother Balborn and wife called upon us while the passengers were taking breakfast. We had quite a pleasant visit. Besides us, there are only three men in the car. The porter has been an old hand on the train, kind as kind can be. We have had a little dust, and a small spurt of a shower. 11MR 147.1

A telegram was received in regard to our trunks and the conductor insisted on my telegraphing back to you, while he would telegraph to the parties in San Francisco. I knew it was not the least use to telegraph [you], for you must know the trunks were not on the train. He insisted on our going into the baggage car. They got a chair and we climbed up and found no trunks of ours. Then he telegraphed. The agent said he must punch my tickets or baggage would not be sent; the conductor said I must not get my tickets punched until the telegraph should notify us the trunks were on the way. But the agent said he was mistaken, so my tickets are punched. We have plenty of room, good food and plenty of it. Sister McComber scalded up the chicken. Will scald the meat tomorrow morning. We arrive at Ogden at seven tomorrow. I wish you had told me just how far you had paid for a sleeper; sleeping car conductor says [it was] only [paid] to Ogden, so we must go through that process of securing tickets in the Ogden depot. I shall get the porter to do this for me. 11MR 147.2

We are doing real well. I am feeling well. We are having a pleasant trip. Feel very thankful to the Lord for His mercies and blessings.—Letter 63, 1884, pp. 1-2. (To Willie and Mary White, Autumn, 1884.) 11MR 148.1

En Route to Europe, 1885—(En route east) July 13, 1885: We left Oakland. There were twelve in our party. We were well accommodated. About twelve more occupied one end of the car until we reached Mojave. Then we changed cars, Wednesday noon. There were only three men in our car besides our party. The heat was very great, but we had no dust. We passed over heavy sand. We passed over a very large body of sand which was like a lake almost as white as snow. 11MR 148.2

July 14, 1885—We have very good accommodations. The weather is excessively hot—thermometer 125 degrees in the shade. I endure the heat much better than I had any reason to expect I could. I tell our party the best way to endure the heat is not to think about it or talk about it. As we came to Fresno, Brother [Moses] Church and son came on the cars bringing a box of peaches, a large box of grapes, and a very large watermelon. 11MR 148.3

July 15, 1885—As the rough class are no longer in our car we commenced religious services—singing and prayer. There was one of the workers on the train that looked as though he did not know whether to laugh or to cry. He afterward told Brother Lunt it was the first prayer he had heard for five years. His father and mother were praying people. He left home and had been in rough company, but the prayer he had listened to touched his heart and he felt a desire to be better than he was then.... 11MR 148.4

July 17, 1885—Friday. We had services in the morning and at the commencement of the Sabbath. I spoke to our people in regard to keeping the Sabbath on the cars. I told them there should be every effort made—yes, extra effort—on our part to keep our minds reflecting upon proper subjects and our words select. There should be a determined purpose to honor the God of the Sabbath by keeping it holy. We did not want to lay aside our religion because we were on the cars. We did not want to backslide on the train, but to be in that spirit of devotion that we could keep our lips from uttering perverse things, and that we should be pure and holy, not light and jovial and trifling, but have our words seasoned with grace. The conductor seated himself in our little circle and remained until I had ceased speaking.... 11MR 148.5

July 20, 1885—I could not sleep much during the night for my pain was great in my hip. I was thankful for the light of day. We arrived at Chicago. Took cars at one for Battle Creek, Michigan. Arrived at Battle Creek about half past eight p.m. Met Brother Sawyer, who urged us to go to sanitarium. Edson was waiting for us and we took lunch at his house. W. C. White did not come with us on this last stage of the journey. He had business to transact in Chicago. The weather was excessively hot, not favorable for sleeping.—Manuscript 16a, 1885, pp. 2-3. (Diary, July 13-20, 1885.) 11MR 149.1

Between Reno and Oakland, 1888—Dear Nephew: I received your letter and was glad to hear from you. But I have not received one line from Addie. 11MR 149.2

I have just written to her that I shall be in Reno, which is a station one day and night's journey from Oakland on the way east. I shall take no attendant with me, and shall depend upon her meeting me and rendering me the service I shall need at the camp meeting. If she cannot get there before the first of June, or if she will meet me to accompany me on the cars from Reno to Sacramento and thence to Fresno and forty miles by private conveyance up into the mountains to Burrough Valley, where we intend to remain until the last of July, I can get along. I must be where so many people will not visit me, for I am much worn with constant labor. 11MR 149.3

This will save Addie some twenty dollars, save me some forty dollars, for I would have to take an attendant from here if I did not have her to return with me. I can have company to the meeting, but not from the meeting, as they intend going to Oregon camp meetings. So you can see the plan I have in view. The meeting commences the 24th of May and continues until the 5th of June. 11MR 150.1

I am hoping to meet Addie at that time. I write you this that you may know my plans. I want this to go this morning so cannot write more now.—Letter 1a, 1888, p. 1. (To Dear Nephew, May 20, 1888.) 11MR 150.2

From Denver to California, 1889—Denver, Sunday, September 15, 1889: The storm that had come down in steady rain Sabbath, the 14th, had passed and the weather was pleasant. 11MR 150.3

I spoke to a crowded tent upon the subject of temperance. “To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with Me in My throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with My Father in His throne” (Revelation 3:21). I had freedom in speaking. Many outsiders were present and listened with apparent earnest interest. 11MR 150.4

We parted from our friends and dear Mary Sunday evening, to take the train en route for California the same night, leaving Denver at five minutes past nine o'clock. 11MR 150.5

En route to California, September 16, 1889—We have excellent accommodations. There are but two parties besides ourselves in the car, and we have plenty of room. I am so weary I must keep my berth made, for it seems as though it would be very difficult to sit up. I usually do some knitting, but I have no strength even for this. I am asking my heavenly Father for the strength required that I may do His will. I have a message to bear to the people, and although struggling against infirmities I am not comfortless. I have the blessed assurance. “Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.” The peace of Christ is of highest value. 11MR 151.1

We reached Ogden September 16, at 9:45 p.m.—twenty-four hours from Denver. Although we had a first-class ticket and could have the privilege of the palace sleeping car, we decided the four in our party could save twenty dollars by putting up with some inconveniences on the emigrant train. Money at this time is an important article, for there are missions to be established, missionaries to be sent, and the truth to be carried to all nations, tongues, and peoples. This will require means, and this is ever before me. Save, save all you can save. 11MR 151.2

My own expenses are very large, to keep my many workers employed and pay them their wages, amounting to $150 per month, for rooms, board, and wages. 11MR 151.3

At Ogden the car was filled with passengers. Some had been waiting over to take this train. They were obliged to wait hours on account of washed-out bridges. 11MR 151.4

September 17, 1889—The effects of the rain are not seen; it is dry and dusty. We eat and drink dust. Last night I was much afflicted for want of breath. I longed to breathe sweet pure air that was not filled with dust and alkali and tobacco. All we can do is to exercise patience and look forward with joy to the time when the sagebrush plains are behind us.—Manuscript 21, 1889, 17-18. (Diary, September 15-17, 1889.) 11MR 151.5

White Estate

Washington, D. C.,

August 22, 1981.