John Stevens' Courtship: A Story of the Echo Canyon War — Reading Companion

There was a great clattering of wheels and many gay jests, with gusts of youthful laughter floating out from that wagon-load of happy hilarity. The placid Aunt Clara Tyler looked on from her vantage point in the back seat, with sympathetic companionship. They overtook and passed scores and hundreds of teams, all traveling in the same direction. And each party was given, as they passed, the greetings of long friendships and mutual pleasures.

When they reached the rendezvous at the mouth of Big Cottonwood Canyon, they found the narrow passageway between the hills looking like a tented field. Out in the open square of the regulated camp, the strains of "Uncle" Dimick Huntington's Martial Band saluted the ears with tingling effect, as the fifes piped out shrilly the melody of "The Girl I Left Behind Me."

Charlie Rose assisted Aunt Clara and Ellen to alight, while he sang in merry accompaniment the words of the song. Ellie's own dancing feet were tripping, almost before she touched the greensward; and Charlie seized her hands and together they flew and pirouetted and bowed and danced to the strains of that inspiring sound.

Henry Boyle, who was off his horse before the party halted, quickly appropriated Dian's willing fingers, and together they tripped in all the gay disorder of impromptu dancing over the open square, as the music shrilled and floated out on the cool, canyon breeze.

Even Aunt Clara's feet tingled with the sound; but she refused to accept jolly Tom Allen's invitation to join the merry throng now quickly gathering on the sward, for she was very stout; but she smiled sympathetically into John's face as he glanced quizzically at his own partner now whisking away merrily with another, and at his associate youths who had left to him all the labor of unhitching and preparing camp for the night. But John was not a dancing man. He cared little that he was left alone. His animals were very dear to him; for his lonely domestic life had brought him in close association with the dumb beasts that carried him over trackless plains and mountain peaks.

Soon the word went forth that President Young was approaching the rendezvous, and all hastened to greet their friend and leader. As his buggy, driven rapidly through the dusty road, came in sight, the Nauvoo Band poured forth its brass blare of welcome; the boys pulled off their hats; the girls waved sunbonnets; and the whole group stood at attention, with affectionate greetings written upon their smiling faces, and waving their hands, to welcome Brigham Young--Governor, President, friend, and brother.

Thereafter followed the peaceable family of Bishop Winthrop. Comforted and rested by the soothing assurance that wife and children were well and with him, and that his precious young sister, Diantha, was for once in the care and company of the man he loved best on earth, Bishop Winthrop had driven his light spring wagon joyfully, and withal as rapidly as his farm horses would permit, in the wake of the President and his immediate family, with Rachel and babe crooning happily beside him, and the merry youngsters behind, who were too interested in the gigantic picnic before them even to indulge in a childish squabble.

At late sunset, the bugle sent forth its insistent call for silence. Rapidly the company of over three thousand souls, encamped for the night beside the brawling Big Cottonwood stream, gathered in one glowing mass of color and motion. Then youth and age knelt reverently on the sward, while devotions were offered to the kind Providence which had permitted them to begin their long-planned festivity.

An hour after the evening service was over, the pleasure seekers had retired into wagons and tents, and the silence of the peaceful hills brooded over the encampment.

The next morning at daybreak, the party began the long steady climb amidst crags and pine covered hills, up through the rocky windings of "The Stairs," and still up. The party laughed, sang, walked, climbed, or rested for a moment beside the churning, foaming mountain stream or beneath the shadowing pine trees which bordered the newly made road. As the long cavalcade wound in and out between the hills, the two girls in the wagon drawn by John Stevens' spirited horses, sang and laughed in gayest abandon. Aunt Clara's eyes were full of tender gratitude for such happiness, for she had known the sorrows of many mobbings and drivings. This haven of peace and joyous plenty was a foretaste of heaven to the faithful heart which had braved more than the persecution of strangers; for Aunt Clara had left home, parents, and all she held dear for the sake of that Gospel which spelled Truth and Life Everlasting to its faithful votaries.