Year: 1871

Below we publish a letter from
Mormondom written by Mrs. Lucy
A. Wardle to her brother, Mr.. N.
Foster, of this village. a H..


About twenty-five years ago Mrs.
Wardle started with her husband to
emigrate to California. Their route
lay through Salt Lake City, at which
point they stopped few days to
procure supplies and give rest to
their jaded animals. The next day
or two after reaching the Mormon
Capital, the husband of Mrs. Wardle
was foully murdered by the Saints,
and his property confiscated. Mrs.
W. found herself penniless and
friendless in strange land, and so
far from home, that, in the condi-
ton in which the country then was,
she couldn't return. She was not made
aware of how her husband had met
his death until long time afterward,
and in the meantime was induced to
marry q Mormon. For a time her
new husband treated her with some
little show of affection, but ere long
he grew more and more matrimoni-
ally inclined, and proceeded to mar
ry new wives as often as opportuni-
ty offered, and at the present time
has about fourteen. With every
new conner Mrs. WIS. troubles were
increased. and the last addition has
proved too much for endurance, and
she emphatically AYERS that she will
no longer submit to the tyranny OF
her tormentOr, let the consequences
be what they may.


MIDWAY, UTAH, June 4, 1871.


Dear Brother: / am well, and
hope this will find you the same. ]
am blessed with good health, and
that is all. My troubles have no
end, but keep coming, one after an
other, until my cup of bitterness is
running over. The time has come
when must leave my country and
my home. l can not endure it any
longer. Imust become q wanderer
in a strange land, unless you send
me some more money, to help me
to leave this woman's hell. ...


My husband has got another little
red headed imp that he calls his
wife, and she says she has got just
rs good right to everything as
have, and he tells her the same, and
then because / cannot submit to it
he whips me like a dog. l can not
stand it; so, dear brother, pity me,
and help me away, and then l can
tell you of troubles that | can not
write. / can not
stand 8 whipping. No pen can tell
what l suffer. / can not wear the
yoke any longer, and now, dear
brother, for the love of Heaven,
help me away, and l will thank you
more than | can tell. Help me away
from a tyrant who never loved me,
only once in while, and then with
the love of brute. Ny tormentor,
for never shall call him husband
any more, tells this little red-head
that he got last, that she is boss
over all, and that she need not mind
anything say, for l am nobody.


There is one thing more in this
beautiful programme. l once had
a man that loved me, but these
bloodthirsty demons murdered him,
and then took everything | had
from me, and this brute in human
form got a good deal of it, by being
sealed to me for time and assuming
the responsibility of taking care of
me. 1 have had quite a number of
rivals, and have managed to put up
with all, until the last one came, and
now forhearance has ceased to be q
virtue, and being abused beyond en-
durance, l must and will leave this
den of infamy, and l hope to live a
few of the last days of my life in
my native land among my friends.


In conclusion, dear brother, do all
you can for


Your atiectionate sister,


Lucy A. WARpLr.


bellevue Gazette.


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