and the dying, the wind brought the soul-piercing sounds of the
reveling mob in the distant city, the scrap of vulgar song, the
shocking oath, shrieked from the temple tower in the madness of
drunken orgies.

This, however, was but the rear remnant of the' expatriated
Christian band. The van was already far on its way toward the
inviting wilderness of the all but unknown west. But the
wanderers were not wholly without friends; certain Indian tribes,
the Omahas and the Potawatomis, welcomed them to their lands,
inviting them to camp within their territory during the coming
winter. "Welcome," said these children of the forest, "we too
have been driven from our pleasant homes east of the great river,
to these damp and unhealthful bottoms; you now, white men, have
been driven forth to the prairies; we are fellow-sufferers.
Welcome, brothers."

In return much assistance was rendered by the white refugees to
their, shall I say savage friends? If it was civilization the
wanderers had left, then indeed might the red men of the forest
have felt proud of their distinction. But the Indian agent, a
Christian gentleman, ordered the "Mormons" to move on and leave
the reservation which a kind government had provided for its red
children. An order from President Polk, who had been appealed to
by Colonel Kane, gave the people permission to remain for a short
season. The government of Iowa had courteously assured them
protection while passing through that territory. As soon as the
people were well under way, a thorough organization was effected.
Remembering the toilsome desert march from Egypt to Canaan, the
people assumed the name, "Camp of Israel." The camp consisted of