In April, 1852, we moved to Rochester, N. Y., under most discouraging circumstances. At every step we were obliged to advance by faith. We were still crippled by poverty, and compelled to exercise the most rigid economy and self-denial. I will give a brief extract from a letter to Brother Howland’s family, dated April 16, 1852:
(LS 142.1)
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“We are just getting settled in Rochester. We have rented an old house for one hundred and seventy-five dollars a year. We have the press in the house. Were it not for this, we should have to pay fifty dollars a year for office room. You would smile could you look in upon us and see our furniture. We have bought two old bedsteads for twenty-five cents each. My husband brought me home six old chairs, no two of them alike, for which he paid one dollar, and soon he presented me with four more old chairs without any seating, for which he paid sixty-two cents. The frames are strong, and I have been seating them with drilling. Butter is so high that we do not purchase it, neither can we afford potatoes. We use sauce in the place of butter, and turnips for potatoes. Our first meals were taken on a fireboard placed upon two empty flour barrels. We are willing to endure privations if the work of God can be advanced. We believe the Lord’s hand was in our coming to this place. There is a large field for labor, and but few laborers. Last Sabbath our meeting was excellent. The Lord refreshed us with His presence.”
(LS 142.2)
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Soon after our family became settled in Rochester, we received a letter from my mother informing us of the dangerous illness of my brother Robert, who lived with my parents in Gorham, Maine. When the news of his sickness reached us, my sister Sarah decided to go immediately to Gorham.
(LS 143.1)
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To all appearance my brother could live but a few days; yet contrary to the expectations of all, he lingered for six months, a great sufferer. My sister faithfully watched over him until the last. We had the privilege of visiting him before his death. It was an affecting meeting. He was much changed, yet his wasted features were lighted up with joy. Bright hope of the future constantly sustained him. We had seasons of prayer in his room, and Jesus seemed very near. We were obliged to separate from our dear brother, expecting never to meet him again this side of the resurrection of the just. Soon afterward my brother fell asleep in Jesus, in full hope of having a part in the first resurrection.
(LS 143.2)
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We toiled on in Rochester through much perplexity and discouragement. The cholera visited the city, and while it raged, all night long the carriages bearing the dead were heard rumbling through the streets to Mount Hope Cemetery. This disease did not cut down merely the low, but took victims from every class of society. The most skillful physicians were laid low, and borne to Mount Hope. As we passed through the streets in Rochester, at almost every corner we would meet wagons with plain pine coffins in which to put the dead.
(LS 143.3)
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