Henrietta McPhail

By Ann Bassett Scott

The red-headed Scottish fifteen year old drew the warm blanket tightly around her as she curled up in a corner of the rescue wagon. She was too weak to even converse with the driver and yet too filled with the thoughts and mixed emotions to sleep.
The driver, thinking she was asleep, began to sing quietly to himself. It was a song Henrietta had sung often with her father and those in the Willy's handcart company. This time, however, some of the words grabbed her attention and caused painful reflections.
"Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?" Henrietta repeated to herself. " I wonder if the composer of that song really knew as much about mourning and hardship as I do. Maybe he wouldn't have written those lines if he had experienced that I have. Most of those early settlers in the valley traveled to Salt Lake in the summer and they had sturdier wagons and handcarts than we did. What a mistake that was! As we reached the dryer, sandy regions of the west, the cars began to break down and cause us difficulty. That was only the beginning of our hardship. One night a herd of buffalo stampeded through our camp causing us to lose 30 valuable cattle, so we had to carry the supplies those cattle would have carried for us. As we reached the higher altitudes, the nights became colder, but there were no buffalo robes to warm us because we had to discard them to make the load lighter. Our food rations were cut back. I watched some of our older and weaker friends die in the very act of trying to put food to their lips. But then came the thing we dreaded most -- Snow! We had wallowed on in the snow for awhile, but at last had to camp in willows. How can the composer of that song know how I mourned as I sat by my own father brushing the snow from his face as the tent blew off him three times during the time he lay dying. How helpless we all felt! We were too weak to even gather wood and build a fire to warm him. I am not alone in mourning either. How many of our company and the Martin's company did the rescue party estimate had died -- something over 200. That's almost 1/5 of all those in our two parties who left Winter Quarters."

Henrietta shifted her position in the wagon slightly as she grew increasingly more uncomfortable with her thoughts. But he words of the song continued to haunt her.

"Our God will never us forsake." "Had He? Father and I had certainly been trying to serve the Lord. After the death of mother, father had decided to sell our belongings and join the Saints in the valley to help them build up Zion. There were other times I had sacrificed for the gospel too. Like the time that wealthy woman in Iowa had wanted me to help her go to New York. I could have had many nice clothes and opportunities there but I, too, wanted to be with the Saints. In fact, father probably wouldn't be dead now if he hadn't been fulfilling his church assignment of taking care of that elderly sister. He had left the protection of our tent to go back in search of her. When he found her she just wanted to lie down and die. Instead father waded the icy stream to carry her back to camp. But this proved fatal in the weakened condition for he became too chilled without a fire to warm him. Why had the Lord let this happen? Had he forsaken us?"

Henrieta's thoughts were interrupted by voices outside the wagon. Seeing that Henrietta was awake, the driver turned around to announce that the Prophet Brigham Young himself had come to meet them.

Henrietta sat up as she greeted the big, bearded man who had climbed into the wagon to talk with her. His face seemed worn by years of hardship, but yet seemed to glow. As she shook his hand and looked into his penetrating eyes, she felt a warm glow fill her body. She didn't remember much of what he said except that she would live in his own home until she could face the world on her own, and that she would be greatly blessed for her sacrifices.

Henrietta crawled forward in the wagon so she could catch her first glimpse of the young city that was to be her home. She felt strangely like joining the driver in quietly singing the last verse of the song:

"And should we die before our journey's through,
Happy Day! All is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow too,
With the just we shall dwell!
But, if our lives are spared again
To see the Saints their rest obtain,
Oh how we'll make this chorus swell --
All is well! All is well!

The above story is based on the true experiences of Henrietta McPhail Exckersell and her Father Archibald McPhail. Henrietta did live to enjoy many of life's blessings. She lived in the home of Brigham Young for some time, and eventually married James Eckersell. The and their family helped settle eastern Idaho. She had ten children, and enjoyed many of life's material comforts, Today she is revered by a large posterity, most of whom are active leaders within the church and communities where they reside.