I was asked by the relief society president to participate in a relief society lesson on pioneer women in July and I was given a narrative to read (I am actually going to try and memorize it) about a women named Fanny Fry. She was born in September, 1842, in Portsmouth England. When she crossed the Atlantic Ocean and made her way across the planes she was only 16 years old. She came across with a sister and a brother. The brother stayed to earn money in New York. Fanny and her sister made it to Nebraska together but her sister travelled with a different company to Utah. Here is an excerpt from her story
I recollect one day the captain put me to a cart with six people's luggage on and only three to pull it (Don't you think like I do that often we are asked to pull far more than we think we are able...) - a woman, a lad of sixteen, and I, newly seventeen. All grown people were allowed twenty pounds of luggage apiece and their cooking utensils besides. That made quite a load for us. I know it was the hardest day's work I ever remember doing in all my life before or since. We had to pull up quite a long hill, and part of it was steep. In climbing we got behind one of the teams for the oxen to help us, for it was all we could do to keep it moving. Captain Rowley came up and called us lazy, and that I did not consider we were at all. (I don't know about you but I would have been furious at the Captain, all that hard work, the intense labor and they were called lazy. I think about all the times I have worked so hard and not received any recogniztion, whether it be as a Sunday School teacher, or a mother, or a friend or whatever but I thought perhaps man doesn't notice but God does.)
While pulling this heavy lead, I looked and acted strange. The first thing my friend Emmie knew I had fallen under the cart, and before they could stop it, the cart had passed over me, and I lay at the back of it on the ground.
When my companions go to me, I seemed perfectly dead. Emmie could not find any pulse at all, and there was not a soul around. They were, she thought, all ahead, so she stood thinking what to do when Captain Rowley came up to us. "What have you got there Emmie?" he said. "Oh my, Fanny is dead," she said. It frightened him, so he got off his horse and examined me closely but could not find any life at all. He asked Emmie to stay with me and he would go and stop the company and send a cart back for me, which he did.
When I came to myself, my grave was dug two feet deep, and I was in a tent. The sisters had sewed me up to the waist in my blanket, ready for burial. I opened my eyes and looked at them.
I was weak for some time after. I did not fully recover during the rest of the journey. Through it all I found I had a great many friends in the company.
I found this story to be so amazing. My first thought was the amount of patience she had not only to pull the cart but not yell and scream and get angry when the Captain called her lazy. She just considered him wrong and kept working. Then she almost died and although weak she realized how many friends she had in the company. I think of the amazing and difficult trials the pioneers overcame as they crossed the planes but I think my trials are no less and my triumphs just as miraculous. I have more to learn about Fanny and I am excited to read about her life and then consider how very much we are alike.
I recollect one day the captain put me to a cart with six people's luggage on and only three to pull it (Don't you think like I do that often we are asked to pull far more than we think we are able...) - a woman, a lad of sixteen, and I, newly seventeen. All grown people were allowed twenty pounds of luggage apiece and their cooking utensils besides. That made quite a load for us. I know it was the hardest day's work I ever remember doing in all my life before or since. We had to pull up quite a long hill, and part of it was steep. In climbing we got behind one of the teams for the oxen to help us, for it was all we could do to keep it moving. Captain Rowley came up and called us lazy, and that I did not consider we were at all. (I don't know about you but I would have been furious at the Captain, all that hard work, the intense labor and they were called lazy. I think about all the times I have worked so hard and not received any recogniztion, whether it be as a Sunday School teacher, or a mother, or a friend or whatever but I thought perhaps man doesn't notice but God does.)
While pulling this heavy lead, I looked and acted strange. The first thing my friend Emmie knew I had fallen under the cart, and before they could stop it, the cart had passed over me, and I lay at the back of it on the ground.
When my companions go to me, I seemed perfectly dead. Emmie could not find any pulse at all, and there was not a soul around. They were, she thought, all ahead, so she stood thinking what to do when Captain Rowley came up to us. "What have you got there Emmie?" he said. "Oh my, Fanny is dead," she said. It frightened him, so he got off his horse and examined me closely but could not find any life at all. He asked Emmie to stay with me and he would go and stop the company and send a cart back for me, which he did.
When I came to myself, my grave was dug two feet deep, and I was in a tent. The sisters had sewed me up to the waist in my blanket, ready for burial. I opened my eyes and looked at them.
I was weak for some time after. I did not fully recover during the rest of the journey. Through it all I found I had a great many friends in the company.
I found this story to be so amazing. My first thought was the amount of patience she had not only to pull the cart but not yell and scream and get angry when the Captain called her lazy. She just considered him wrong and kept working. Then she almost died and although weak she realized how many friends she had in the company. I think of the amazing and difficult trials the pioneers overcame as they crossed the planes but I think my trials are no less and my triumphs just as miraculous. I have more to learn about Fanny and I am excited to read about her life and then consider how very much we are alike.
3 comments:
What an amazing story! I need to hear things like this from time to time. They inspire me and help me to remember to keep my ego and pride in check. Thanks for this. ;)
Wonderful story. It is hard sometimes to understand all that they went through just to get to Utah. Makes me appreciate things that I do have even more, like cars and planes. Not sure if I would have been able to do it!!!
Wow. It's amazing and humbling to realize what the early Saints did. Thanks for this story.
Post a Comment