Morgan Pioneer History Binds Us 'Togeihe. Amanda Barnes Smith "So Our Children May Know' One of the priceless possessions of my family is the journal of my grandmother, Amanda Barnes Smith. She and four young children were among the survivors of Haun's Mill Massacre of 1838. The story in her own words has appeared in several Church publications, and it has been given as the experience of another in at least one book, a combination of fact and fancy, but purporting to be historically accurate. In addition to these published articles, based on her journal, there are many incidents which are known only to her immediate family, related by her and by my father, Willard Gilbert Smith, her eldest child, who was eleven years old at the time of the tragedy. The little company of Saints traveling from Ohio to Missouri, "minding their own business," as grandmother quaintly recorded it, had been accosted and threatened several times by unauthorized bands. They finally arrived at a place where members of their church lived, until they were driven out by their enemies. Here there was a saw mill, a grist mill, and a few houses. The company decided to spend a little time there to rest their teams and do some much- needed washing. Before sunset, an unruly, yelling mob of several hundred armed men surrounded the group and began shooting. Most of the women and children ran into the wooded area and the men fled into a small blacksmith shop. After the firing ceased and the terrified survivors came from hiding, an indescribable scene was before them. Grandmother had to help drop the bodies of her husband a ten-year- old son into an old, dry well along with fifteen others, as there was no one left to dig suitable graves. Only widows, fatherless children and a few seriously injured men survived. Grandmother's son, Alma, only six years old was critically injured as his hip bone had been shattered by bullets. Picture this situation: The mob had stolen all of their horses and most of their other possessions, including their clothes. No medical help was available, no antiseptic or disinfectants. Grandmother carried her wounded boy into one of the abandoned houses, where there still was a bed, and laid him on his face. She had unbounded faith and prayed for guidance which led her to wash out the wound with a lye solution which she made from wood ashes, and then applied poultices of slippery-elm tree bark. The surviving widows gathered for prayer meeting, but members of the mob returned and told them to stop praying if they wanted to live. Then silent prayer was their only recourse and after days of this, grandmother could stand it no longer. She felt that she would die if she could not relieve her emotions by praying audibly to her God. A field of corn was near and the cut stalks were arranged in long rows for drying. She crawled far into one of the rows and voiced her pleas for continued help and guidance. Immediately her spirits were raised and she was comforted. Then as plainly as if a person was with her, she heard the words of the old hymn: "The soul that on Jesus has leaned to repose 1 will not, I cannot desert to its foes. That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I'll never, no never, no never forsake." She emerged from the field and never despaired again. A few days later, one of the raiders returned, and asked her if she would use some meat. She said it would be very welcome, so he brought her a small, dressed hog, and a team of horses. The wounded boy lay on his face for six weeks, then on February 1st, he could be moved; grandmother drove the team to Quincy, Illinois. She and her three uninjured children slept out along the way, although it was winter. We could have understood her during these terrible days if she had joined with Job in wondering if her God had forsaken her, but her faith never wavered. In the final entry of her precious journal, she wrote: "Of all the creatures, I have the greatest reason to rejoice, and thank my Heavenly Father, and do thank Him and praise his Holy Name for his Blessings to me."