We traveled as far as Pisgah, a stopping place, and stopped for awhile. We put in a garden and when it was up and ready to use, Father thought we had better go to Missouri River. We wanted to cross the river, but we unable just then, so we went on aways and camped on the banks of the river. Brother Henderson and folks built some log houses. We couldn't get grinding done here, so we lived some time on Hominy and ground corn which we ground in a coffee mill. There were also a lot of grapes in the timber that we ate.
The Indians visited us quite often. They had to cross the river on the ice. They killed a cow for us and one for Brother Henderson. In the spring, they threatened to turn us out, so we moved up a lake where there was a settlement. My brother Joel put in some wheat. Father thought we would not come to the Valley that year, as we had only three oxen. There was a widow who had only one ox who wanted to sell for food-stuff. So Father went down to Missouri and bought some food-stuff, which he let the widow have for her ox.
We had some sheep which we sheared and sold. We corded and spun the wool before leaving for the Valley. I was fourteen years old at this time. My father drove the teams, my brother Joel drove the teams for James Pollock. My mother and myself walked cows. The first buffalo chips. The Sioux Tribe of the Indians visited us. They were a tine looking tribe. We had to stop often to rest our teams and wash our clothes. We made a corral of the wagons sometimes. I would go ahead of the wagons. We had to keep close for fear of Indians. We did not know just where we were gong until we met the first pioneers coming back from the Valley.
I had mountain fever at this time. There was six days I didn't keep anything on my stomach, and had to walk cows most of the time. My mother got some whiskey from Sister Thatcher and gave it to me clear. It broke up the fever and cured me. Father then came down with it, and was sick two weeks. Mother could not drive the oxen, so I drove them, and she drove the cows until Father got well.
We arrived in the Valley of the mountains September 22, 1847. We moved in the Valley near City Creek and built us a rock room in the Northwest corn of the Old Middle Fork. Father and Joel went to work and made some adobes. Our house we covered with willow and dirt, so when it rained, it leaked badly. The Fort was built in a square, with four gates to go through to our corrals. It was solid wall on the outside, arranged to shoot through in the Indians bothered us, but they were quite peaceable.
We thought for awhile we would have to winter in the Black Hills, but the Lord was with us and did not let our enemies drive us, his people, into the wilderness to perish. I feel to acknowledge His hand in preserving us from our enemies, also [in] crossing the plains and barren desert where so many dangers lay. The desert soon blossomed as the rose. President Young said the Lord would bless it for the people, and if the enemies drive us away, he would curse it for them. You can’t imagine how thankful we were to reach a resting place.
The Lord greatly blessed us that winter. We had very little snow, so our stock did not suffer much, for we had nothing to feed them. We had some chickens, and my brother Joel trapped some wolves, and mother cooked them for the chickens. We finally had to kill two of our oxen in order to have meat to live on, so we were left with one yoke of oxen.
The young folks used to have some good times. We used to have pays and dances on the dirt floor. A man by the name of Levi Hancock payed the violin for the dances.
In the spring, we moved out East toward Emmigrant canyon where the land was. We built a dug-out and lived there during the summer. We had to live on rations that summer. We had two pints of cornmeal a day for the five of us. James Pollock went to California that spring. He had an orphan boy, William Smith, and the Authorities wouldn't let him take him, so Father took him. We had five cows giving milk. We didn't have much use for butter. We made corn-meal gruel for breakfast, the dame for dinner, and sometimes we had thistle roots, sago lily roots, wild onions or greens or milk straight for supper. Sometimes we put a little sour milk in it to thicken it. We lived this way for three months until harvest time. We also put in a nice garden. When everything was up and doing fine, the crickets came. We had to fight them from sunrise to sunset. We went through with a brush and knocked them off the wheat. We cut the heads off with a case-knife and put them in a casket and thrashed it with a flail, which is two sticks tied together loosely.
President Brigham Young put up a mill without bolts. We had out wheat ground into bran, and it was the best bread I have ever tasted. This lasted until the corn ears ripened, and then we lived on corn. My brother and I put in some turnips. When they were up I had to go out every morning. It was on the Cottonwood. My brother belonged to the Battalion men, so he left the crop with Father. I had to ride on a Dragon saddle. My mother gave me some gruel in a coffee-pot for my dinner. It was so thin, it slopped out. I would drink it before dinner [time]. There was a ditch and a creek on the other side. I would stake my horse and go back and forth along the ditch and kill every cricket I could see. I had to go every morning until harvest. We raised forty bushels of turnips that fall.
We moved twelve miles north of Salt lake and lived in a tent. A man there put in a patch of corn which was too late to mature, so Father made molasses out of it. We lived on corn bread and molasses the rest of the year. Father and my brother Joel build us a log cabin. We lived in it for the rest of the winter. William R Smith, the boy that was living with us, had his thumb taken off in the mill. We afterward built two rooms. They took up some land in the spring and put in more crops. When the wheat was ready, the crickets came, and it looked like they would take it all before them,. But before they had done much damage, the Seagulls came from the Great Salt Lake and ate them all. So we didn't have to fight crickets that spring. The Lord prepared the way to fight them for us. My brother went to California to the gold mines. When he started across the creek, Mother went across and shook hands with him for the second time. She never saw him again, as she died before he came back. He helped put in some crops before he went, and the next year we rented the farm to Brother Stoddard.
Mother and I took some wool and corded and spun it on shares, and had it woven. We got it home just two days before Mother died. She was sick only four days. She had congested chills. I had erysipelas when she died. Brother Joel came home two weeks afterwards. There was a family [that had] come from the states and lived with us that winder by the name of Bowen. I kept house for Father, and Mother's share of lindsay made me two dresses.
I met Lorenzo Wesley Roundy. We were married April 22, 1857. I was his third wife. We were called in 1866 to go south to settle the country. We first went to Kanab. On account of Indian troubles, we went to Kanarra, where my husband was bishop for many years. I spent most of my time in Kanarra taking care of my family.
My husband was called to go help settle Arizona, and was drowned in the Colorado ricer May 24, 1876. I was left a widow with seven children to take care of.
The Best of the Story of Priscilla Parish Roundy
written by her daughter, Sarah Roundy Berry
My mother, Priscilla, spent a great deal of her time with the sick, and was already to help those in need. She made all her children's hats, spun and wove her own cloth, and made the children's clothes. She made most of their shoes. She didn't have many means to go on. It was hard to make ends meet, but the Lord blessed her family. So while she didn't have many luxuries, they did not suffer greatly. She was President of the Primary for seventeen years, and also worked in the Sunday School and Relief Society.
She moved to Venice, Sevier, Utah in 1901, where she spent the rest of her life with her two daughter, Annie Isadore Davis, and Lydia Annie Reeves. She had a stroke on May 16, 1914, and was Bedfast for three months. She dies at the home of her daughter, Annie Davis, August 10, 1914. She had spent a great deal of her time working in the temple. She worked for fifty names of her own relatives, and did much charity work.