Pied Riche--he was surnamed Le Clerc on account of
his remarkable scholarship--then rose and said: "My Mormon brethren, the
Pottawottomi came, sad and tired, into this unhealthy Missouri bottom,
not many years back, when he was taken from his beautiful country,
beyond the Mississippi, which had abundant game and timber and clear
water everywhere. Now you are driven away, the same, from your lodges
and lands and the graves of your people. So we have both suffered. We
must help one another, and the Great Spirit will help us both. You are
now free to cut and use all the wood you may wish. You can make all your
improvements, and live on any part of our actual land not occupied by
us. Because one suffers, and does not deserve it, is no reason he shall
suffer always: I say, we may live to see all right yet. However, if we
do not, our children will. _Bon jour!_"

And thus ended the powwow. I give this speech as a morsel of real
Indian. It was recited to me after the treaty by the Pottawottomi orator
in French, which language he spoke with elegance. _Bon jour_ ["good
day"] is the French, Indian, and English hail, and farewell of the
Pottawottomis.

Upon the Pottawotomi lands, scattered through the border regions of
Missouri and Iowa, in the Sac and Fox country, a few among the Ioways,
among the Poncas, in a great company upon the banks of the l'Eau qui
Coulee (or Running Water) River, and at the Omaha winter quarters, the
Mormons sustained themselves through the heavy winter of 1846-1847. It
was the severest of their trials. This winter was the turning-point of
the Mormon fortunes. Those who lived through it were spared to witness
the gradual return of better times; and they now liken it to the passing
of a dreary night, since which they have watched the coming of a
steadily brightening day.

In the spring of 1847, a body of one hundred forty-three picked men,
with seventy wagons, drawn by their best horses, left the Omaha
quarters, under the command of the members of the high council who had
wintered there. They carried with them little but seed and farming
implements, their aim being to plant spring crops at their ultimate
destination. They relied on their rifles to give them food, but rarely
left their road in search of game. They made long marches, and moved as
rapidly as possible.

Against the season when ordinary emigration passes the Missouri, they
were already through the South Pass, and after a couple of short days