Mary Sabin Powell's Story ...

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Again we continued traveling - this time by rail to Rock Island, Illinois. Our train was scheduled to cross the Mississippi River on a bridge at eight o'clock. We were fifteen minutes late. The bridge had broken with the train just ahead of us and a great wreck occurred. We had to stay at Rock Island from Saturday morning until Monday morning. On Monday morning we crossed the Mississippi river in a boat. It was a mile wide.

On the other side of the river from Rock Island we entered a train of box cars. We reached Iowa city late at night. We walked four miles from Iowa City out to the camping place of the saints. Mother rode, not being strong enough to walk. A missionary, Brother Merrill, whom Mother had entertained in Wales, helped her to alight from the carriage.
Said he, "Sister Powell, it affords me great pleasure to welcome you to this blessed land of America."

We remained in Iowa six weeks. All the men were busy making handcarts. Our bake kettle which Father had ordered had not come. We had to fry our dough in a pan over the campfire. A Lady seeing me do it said, "Come into my tent and use my stove." This lady was not a member of the company. She lived in a tent nearby and owned a nice stove with a good oven which she allowed me to use. In the course of my acquaintance I learned that she was a relative of the Joseph F. Smith family.

Statue depicting
a typical handcart family

Each day I took pains to watch the women bake bread in their bake-kettles. I was taking lessons from them. I knew that I should have to do the baking when our own kettle came, and I was anxious to learn the best way to do it.

It became necessary for Mother to dispose of some of our things. She sold a little flatiron that I had taken care to carry with me. How I cried when it was sold. I think this was the only time I cried on the whole long journey. I felt worried and said, "Whatever will we do for something with which to smooth our clothes when we get to Salt Lake City."

At last the handcarts were all made. There were two handcarts for our family. My brother William pulled one of them all the way from Iowa City to Utah. I and Father took turns pulling the other one. When I was not pulling Father's handcart I was helping to pull someone else's. I walked every step of the way. I was light hearted and glad, and had not self-pity.

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