Written by Cyrena Dustin Merrill
(1817 - 1906)

Submitted by Clifford R. Merrill and Kathy Y. Hughes

Fulfillment of a Blessing

    I, the daughter of Seth Dustin and Betsy Redfield, was born January 3, 1817, in Genesee County, New York. My father with his family, moved into Ohio, Portage County when I was about a year old, where I lived until after I left home. I never had good health and was never expected to do anything around the house, but all the family waited on me. I first heard the gospel when about nineteen years old and believed and embraced it later, going into the waters of baptism in March 1837, Elder James Emmett officiating.

    I am the only one of my father’s family that ever embraced the Gospel, yet I know that my father believed, and had it not been for some unwise conduct in one of the Elders whom my father had befriended and assisted, he probably would have been baptized at the same time I was. My brothers and sisters were greatly mortified at my joining the church and as long as I lived at home I had to endure their persecutions.

    Sometime during the summer of 1837, I visited Kirtland and viewed the Temple; the first one reared by command and under the direction of the living God in this generation. It would be difficult to describe my feelings while going through the edifice where the Savior and holy angels had appeared to the servants of God. Truly I felt like thanking God that my mind had been enlightened and that I had been permitted to embrace the Gospel and partake of its blessings.

    I remained at home during the coming winter, but the spirit of gathering seemed to come upon the Saints about that time and I felt that I could not be left behind and so determined to go with them to Missouri. This was a severe blow to my father, who had sympathized with me from the beginning, and when he found that I was determined to go he requested me to leave home immediately that he might become reconciled to the separation before I left entirely; his real motive was a hope that I might become so homesick that I would give up the idea of going with the Saints and return home to stay.

    Accordingly, I left home and went to reside in the family of Elder Alexander Stanley, who was an old acquaintance and neighbor. He was like a father to me and there I lived until gathered with the Saints in Missouri.

    A few nights before we started for Missouri, I went to my father’s house and I talked with all of them. My father and mother cried and begged me not to go, even until late into the night. When they found pleading was of no avail, they tried hiring me to stay, and when that also failed, father said he would follow me and have me arrested and brought back by a process of law. We all then retired and in the morning early father went away for he could not say goodbye.

    As I was leaving the house, I turned back at the door and bore a faithful testimony to the truth of the Gospel; and that was the last time I ever saw any of my father’s family except Sylvenus, who passed through Utah on his way to Montana.

    I am strongly impressed that my going was not only for my own salvation but for that of the family also; yet at that time little realized in just what manner this might occur, and in fact never did thoroughly understand, until the work for the dead was first revealed. It was a source of great satisfaction to me to know that I stood in a position to do a work for them which would give them the privilege, in the Spirit world, of accepting the Gospel there which was neglected here. In April, before starting to Zion, I, with Bro. Stanley’s family, went to a blessing meeting held at the house of Brother Sears, in Randolph, Ohio, a few miles from where we then lived, and received a Patriarchal Blessing under the hands of Joseph Smith Senior, the first one who held the office of Priesthood and Patriarch in this dispensation.

    My blessing was a great comfort to me in the trials which I have had to pass through and it also assisted to give me the necessary faith, courage, and fortitude to make the sacrifice of leaving home and friends and to start out alone in the world to fight the battle of life among strangers. I went forth trusting in the Lord, in full faith that He would give me grace sufficient to overcome all obstacles which might be thrown in my way and that I might endure to the end.

    In September following we left our homes and commenced our wearisome journey, with Alexander Stanley as leader. His family, his father and family, three of his brothers-in-law–Sam Kent, Brother Sears, and Brother Ellsworth–and their families and myself; all in one wagon.

    We started early in the morning and were fearful that father would stop us, for we had to pass his house, but as we neared home we saw the hand of the Lord in causing a dense fog to envelop the house until after we passed. We could not see even the signboard at the street door.

    We traveled on unmolested until noon when they stopped to rest the horses. I, being fearful of father’s overtaking us, walked on with Sister Kent, but in our haste and anxiety we got on the wrong road. After walking some distance, we inquired and found the right one–but now our minds were more anxious than ever, being afraid we would miss our friends altogether as from fresh tracks in the road we knew that they were ahead of us. We walked as fast as we could but my strength was failing and finally the worry and exertion proved too much for me, and I lay down by the roadside completely exhausted and frightened lest father would still overtake us. Sister Kent sat by me, encouraging me and comforting me and together we prayed that some one might return for us, for we dreaded passing the night by ourselves.

    While we were resting the company had gone on to New Portage and unloaded goods to go by water. Not finding us there, they brought back the wagon to meet us. With renewed faith because our prayers were answered we got into the wagon and went on to New Portage where we made camp and I slept out of doors for the first time in my life.

    It rained a little during the night and our bedding was soaked through and not being used to exposure of any kind of course I took a severe cold, which with the long walk and the worry of leaving home under such trying circumstances brought on a fever and nervous prostration.

    I shall ever remember how kind and good the sisters and brothers were to me during that long ride from New Portage, Ohio to the Missouri river. They gave me every attention that could be given under the circumstances many times sacrificing their own comfort for mine.

    As day by day went by and I still remained so very low, all but Brother Stanley concluded that I could not recover. Several times I was taken from the wagon and laid down by the roadside while they all gathered round expecting me to breathe my last. But I had great faith in my blessing for it said I should go to Zion and I clung to that, and so did Bro. Stanley, and I felt as if that must be true. Sometimes, as we were traveling along, people would come to our camp and talk to us and would say, “Why do you drag that sick girl with you? Can’t you stop long enough to let her die in peace? It looks inhuman to take her over these rough roads.” And when told it was prophesied that she should go to Zion, they would shake their heads and say that “She’ll never live to get there anyway.” We were stopped several times by mobs who were determined we should not go on, but we were strong in faith and continually prayed to the Lord to deliver us from these people and so we finally overcame all difficulties and arrived at Far West. I had been getting some better before the end of the journey and oh, how we rejoiced that our long tiresome traveling was ended and we could meet and have sweet concourse with the Saints here. But our rest and comfort was soon broken, for in a few days Far West was surrendered to our enemies and I saw Joseph’s aged father and mother weeping over their son as he was taken away a prisoner. During the winter our faith was tried to the utmost–in a strange country–our beloved leader torn from us, and our food and clothing very scarce. At times we had nothing to eat but parched corn with a little squash.

    My health continued to improve daily and Father Smith obtained a place for me to work at Little Platts, about 20 miles from Far West, with an aged couple who treated me like a daughter but thought I ought to return to my parents. They begged me to go to my mother who must be so lonely without me, even offering to pay my fare back to Ohio and send their son with me for company. But my faith in the Gospel was strong and I never had the desire to give up our religion or leave the Saints.

    To my great joy I found while living here Bro. and Sis. Horn living near, although I had no idea that there was a Latter-day Saint within miles of me. Thus has the Lord cheered my heart at all times when I most needed consolation. These new friends told me that the Saints were moving to Quincy, Illinois. After staying with these good folks two months I went with Bro. and Sis. Horn to Far West, to again cast my lot with the Saints although the lady where I had been working wept over me and wished me to stay with her or return to my parents, but I now felt that the Saint’s home was mine.

    Again joining Brother Stanley’s company in the Spring of 1839 I traveled to Quincy, Illinois. My health was very good and I walked every step of the way, sometimes with my skirts wet to my knees. At night we slept with only the canopy of the heavens for a roof and it rained every night, thus soaking our bedding through before morning. We often cheered ourselves on our march by singing the songs of Zion and we kept our health.

    Brother Stanley had managed to procure some flour before leaving Far West, and we had plenty of squash which they raised in Missouri, so we lived on squash pies–not made with eggs and sugar and milk as it is generally made, but just squash boiled and put between two crusts. Oh, how good it tasted. Anything eaten with God’s blessing on it and with thankful hearts is sweet and good.

    At Quincy was residing a brother of my father’s who had joined the Church, and there I lived for a few weeks, but his wife persecuted him and made it so unpleasant for me that I could not stand it but went out to work. While here our needs and clothing came which we had sent by water from New Portage, coming back from St. Louis where they had been stopped. Nothing traveled fast in those days.

    I now wrote to home folks and they were glad to hear from me, particularly about my good health, but they wanted me to come home and not have to endure any more of such privations. They would send me the money and if I did not want to return alone one of my brothers would gladly come for me. But I answered “I would live and die with the Latter-day Saints.”

    I worked out all summer for $2 a week and was always treated well and my health was good.

    In December or late in the Fall of this year I went to Nauvoo with Bro. Tarlton Lewis and family. They were such a good people and so very kind to me.

    At Nauvoo we found nearly everyone sick with chills and fever and so I went to nursing sick folks. I went to nurse Stephen Markham’s for they were all down sick. While there their daughter–a lovely girl about my age–died and her parents would not hear of my leaving them, so I made my home with them from that time.

    Some time in February, 1840, Philemon C. Merrill was passing through Nauvoo from Fort Madison to Carthage and had stopped to see his friend, Bro. Markham, who brought him to dinner and I waited on the table. After dinner he asked Bro. Markham “who that young lady was” and when told he remarked, “I’ll be back here someday for she will be my wife.” Bro. Markham laughed at him and also some at me, but so it proved, for on September 20, we were married and went to housekeeping in Nauvoo.

    On August 21, 1841, a daughter, Sabrina Lorena, came to gladden our home. While my husband worked on the Temple which the Saints had begun to build in our beautiful city on the Mississippi River, a son, Philemon Alisandre, was born to us to cheer us and bind our hearts together. His birthday was November 18, 1842, and oh, how happy and contented I was with my loving husband and little daughter and son. But clouds were gathering around our beloved Prophet, and everyone knew the terrible times of the next year–the assassination of Joseph and Hyrum and how we obeyed the voice of the Twelve when they told us to be peaceable, quiet citizens and blessed would be those who held out faithful to the end.

    During 1846, although we were preparing to leave Nauvoo for the Rocky Mountains, they were pushing the work on the Temple and on May 24th the walls were finished and the Apostles administered to hundreds of the people, the services often continuing all day and night. We received our endowments in the last of December, going through the Temple at night.

    Now as the mob had said “we will drive all the Mormons into Nauvoo and all Nauvoo into the Mississippi,” preparations were made for immediately evacuating the city and on February 6, 1846, my husband left with the first guards to guard the Records across the river, and went on to Garden Grove, leaving me and my little ones in Nauvoo.

    When he came back near the last of April with a team, our second daughter Lucy Cyrena, was three weeks old–she having been born on April 7th. Taking only our bedding and clothing, leaving everything in the house, we went by wagon to Mt. Pisgah.

    Authorities held counsel and concluded to move on, after putting up some huts which could be used by those coming later.

    When within a few miles of Council Bluffs we were met by a United States officer to enlist men for the Mexican War, coming to a halt Brother Brigham called for 500 volunteers. On July 16th the troops were mustered, my husband being among the number. Thus we were left without our natural protectors, and as this took our strongest and best away much hard work was thrown on the women and the aged. I had only one week’s provisions on hand, but our faith was strong that Brother Brigham would lead us on. After they had been gone three days some men returned from the Battalion and stated to the camp that Captain Allen had sent them to gather up fifty families of the Battalion Boys. And they could travel with their husbands to California as the government would pay all expenses.

    At first I did not wish to go but being overpersuaded, I joined the company to follow my husband. My driver was Monroe Frick, a boy of fourteen who was such a good boy. I arrived at Fort Leavenworth about August 1, 1846.

    The joy of once more meeting my husband was of short duration for he could not consent to me traveling with them with my little children and the young babe. So after fitting up a wagon with 18 months provisions and the two yoke of oxen, Monroe and I started back over that lonely road of 200 miles to the camp of Israel. This was done by the advice and counsel of Bro. P. P. Pratt.

    Philemon went a day’s journey with us and when he left us in the morning was the hardest of all my trials–we had to travel through Missouri whose swamps were full of malaria, and several times we came to places where the rain had washed out the road and we had to unload our flour and provisions, get the wagon across then carry the things over and reload. It seems a miracle that we ever succeeded in reaching Winter Quarters, but in God was my trust and He protected us and cared for us.

    Philemon’s mother, hearing that we were coming, started out to meet us but got on the wrong road, missed us, and had to walk back a long distance. We were about three weeks making the trip and the worry of it all must have told on me for when my sister-in-law first met me she said, “Is this you, Cyrena, or your ghost?”

    About a week after I got back, my two children were taken sick with chills, then I was sick, then baby took croup and only lived about twelve hours, dying on the 6th of September.

    I let Father and Mother Merrill take my outfit (of wagon, oxen, etc.) and they went on with the first company to Salt Lake in 1847, but I stayed here at Kanesville until my husband’s return on December 11, 1847 from the Battalion.

    He spent his time in getting land warrants for the Battalion Boys and assisting Brother Young to get emigrants across the Plains. Here on September 10, 1848, our third daughter, Melissa Jane was born.

    In the spring of 1849 Brother Young having sent our teams back from Salt Lake we fitted up and crossed the Plains. Now we were really going to Zion and as our hearts were filled with gratitude to our Heavenly Father for His love and protecting care, we were enabled to endure all our trials with cheerful fortitude. Our faith was strong. We loved each other and lived in unity and were blessed abundantly, and our songs often rang out on the prairies.

    While passing through the Rockies we encountered severe snowstorms and many of our cattle perished. But again the Lord helped us, for Father Merrill sent a team with a nephew to assist us into the city of Salt Lake.

    Now having lived to reach my 81st birthday I feel to bear my testimony (perhaps my last) to the truth of this work in which the Latter-day Saints are engaged.

    I have lived to see my patriarchal blessings fulfilled. My life has been spared many times, I have been raised up as from the dead, I have had my prayers answered, my posterity is numerous and they rise up to call me blessed, my faith has been (and still is) strong. I have lived in perfect harmony with my husband for 57 years. These are some of the things mentioned in my blessings.

    [On September 25, 1901, my son Delbert's spirit passed beyond the veil of mortality, after about a year of suffering, leaving a widow and eight children to mourn his earthly loss. This was a severe blow to us, but I feel reconciled....       — Not included in the original printing.]