--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Shivell, Paul collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 4 number: 4 published: 1901-02 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Paul Shivell, "To a Mother: A Poem," *Improvement Era* 4, no. 4 (February 1901): 279.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0404unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera0404unse start_page: 279 end_page: 279 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1901-02) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0404unse publication_year: 1901 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1901, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # To a Mother: A Poem WITH THE REMNANTS AT NAUVOO. 277 see what causes this uproar." In an instant, he rushed through the woods, and, after about half an hour's suspense, returned and said in great excitement, "The 'Mormons' are here." Seeing that this information infuriated our guard, and, fearing that we might be instantly massacred, Phineas Young sprang out and caught "Old Wimp" by the arm, and pleaded for our lives. With a great oath, the latter said, "I will, if you'll follow me." Phineas agreed, and no sooner was this said than the command was given, "follow me." When we had passed through the woods, we climbed a long hill, from the summit of which, we could hear more distinctly what was going on below. Here sending out a spy, we halted, and in a few minutes he returned bringing news which caused a hasty march forward. We hurriedly traveled on tillwe came to a farm house owned by a man named Logan, at least this was the name given us; here we were hid away in a house literally filled with wool, and here we rested until dark. After we had left our night's camping ground, (so we learned afterward) the brethren from Nauvoo found the place, and secured my wagon and team with the flour, which they took with them back to Nauvoo. They also secured the horse and buggy of James Standing, but of course they did not find us. We were now destined to be in the hands of this murderous guard for two weeks more; and not until the end of that time did we again hear from our friends; nor they from us. In the meantime, our lives were in daily peril. We were kept in the woods, and in secluded places all the time. Every night at dark we were on the march traveling over any rugged, untrodden paths where we would most likely be hidden from our brethren, their pursuers, who seemed occasionally to get information concerning our whereabouts but failed to find us. One morning they were nearing our hiding place when the proceedings in our camp were suddenly stopped on sight of a man who came rushing along at full speed, and who, when he reached us, caused great excitement and fear by yelling, "The 'Mormons' are on you." Our captors had just completed arrangements to have each of us shot. The announcement of their murderous purpose had been made to us. The ground had been measured off, and the place was selected where we were to stand. "Old Wimp" had cleared the ground between the place, beside a