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Ella Pack Journal
September 15th, 1896. (She was 17)
For the first time this year, as I was walking down the pasture to milk the cows (for I have been a milk-maid for some time) there came to my ears the sound of a threshing machine. This sound, though not unpleasant, brought with it a sense of loneliness for it reminded me that “Old Winter” will soon be here for even now there is an undisputable tinge of yellow in the leaves of the tress, and the fresh green grass in the meadows is cut-down and lies filed in huge stacks in the stackyard, while the dried hay that lies scattered along the (??) reminds me that in the heavens the glades are timeless.
It takes me back to a time two years ago when Pearl and I had the Typhoid fever and when our cousin, Sadie, had just died of that loathsome disease. Oh, that dreary, lonely time. It makes me shudder to think of it. To see even a small piece of a dress that was worn by one of the family at that time, causes a flood of recollections to come over me that it is sometimes hard to dispel. School will soon be in session. That also brings with it a dismal thought. Why I wonder do nearly all the dismal thoughts and feelings come in the fall of the year. Is it not that the feelings of us human beings respond to the situations of things around us? Does not the heart seem light and the spirit gay in the Spring of the year Does not some new hope, some new ambition unfold with each unfolding leaf and blossom? Do not such hopes and ambitions wither and fall, as do the leaves in Autumn? I know it is thus with me. I know that my soul responds to each change of the elements. I know that when the sun shines and it is bright and warm, so also are my spirits. But I also know that when the sky is overcast, when the lightening and the thunder are clashing in the heavens, my spirits are always a vague undefinable dread takes possession of me, nor can I dispel it until my senses are lulled in sleep and I awake to the glory light of another morn.
I have been reading this morning a part of Owen Meredith’s “Lucille.” the language in this particular parts is lovely. ?? into my heart a great longing to become something good and noble. It made me feel that if I could only be a poetess, a musician such as Beethoven, or anything besides plain unaccomplished Ella Pack, that I could live contentedly and happily. But what is the use of being discouraged? I think it is a true sayings that composition of some persons that says something like this–
“This world is as we take it. And life, dear child, is what we make it.” So I think we should look on the bright side of things and make our lives as bright as possible. And how can we make our lives happy? Truly it has been said that if we strive to be noble and true, live with a clear conscience before heaven, and with this, strive daily for the happiness of others, our lives, if sometimes overcast, would lack nothing at the end. And each noble worth act would each day; add to our own joy and comfort. Oh I wish I were as good and true as many ?? there I have seen: and I think that it does lie in our power to be so, if we would only try.
There, I have given myself quite a lecture. I hope I will follow my own advice in this instance if no other.Yesterday, Pearl, Nam (?), Thyrza (?), Bob and myself went over to the cliffs for choke-cherries and enjoyed ourselves quite immensely. Last night some of us went to the school house to a Democratic meeting. It was quite interesting but grew to be tiresome before it was over. Delegates were appointed to attend the County Convention to be held at Coalville, on Wednesday September 16th. I wonder if I will ever get ambitions enough to study politics and learn whether I am a Democrat and want to vote that ticket or not. There is only four more years before I will be old enough to vote. If I am going to learn anything I had better be starting but I believe I am to lazy today to study anything of any account. Well I have finished Lucille. Oh how lovely, how glorious would it be to know that we were doing good, that we in some way were lighting the burdens of other, and bringing some poor fainting soul to a knowledge of the mission of life. Oh to be so noble and true that we would be loved and welcomed by all wherever we went would job beyond measure. Though Lucille’s past was darkened by sorrow, surely she found job knowing that she was looked upon as an angel of mercy and that she had saved many souls from error and caused them to lead better, nobler lives. I have been in the eat room quite a long time. It must be afternoon by this time, so I must quit writing and go down stairs. I guess ma and Pearl think I have deserted them.
October 3rd, 1896
Mr. Olson, our teacher, arrived last night. Inez and I spoke to him in Sunday School to-day. When we first saw him we had quite a difficulty to keep from laughing out loud and calling every ones attention to us, for he looked quite queer with his mustache shaved. School starts to-morrow “Oh dear,” is the only way I can find to express my feelings. I have read (in the Young Womans Journal I believe) that a journal or a private diary is the thing to confide all our secret thoughts and feelings to. (As I look for the remainder of this to copy it here I find that I have destroyed it. It was not of much consequence. Only something about it being the nature of girls at my age, 17, to be very romantic, especially if they have read novels as I have done. Something about myself and all my girl companions having an attraction which we could not quench if we so desire, toward the opposite sex, but as it was only human nature I was not ashamed of it.) (I believe I was intending to go on farther but something stopped my writing then and I did not again take up the subject.)
All of this I have written I wrote thinking to insert it in a journal I had previously written, but I desired to keep it so wrote it here, although I started my journal in real earnest on the 21st of Jan., 1897.
January 21th, 1897
Many times since I have been old enough to understand, in a measure, and to have an interest or an object in life, aside from mere childish pleasure, I have had it in my mind to keep a diary or a record of things that transpire in my life, and also what I know of things that happen in the lives of others. In this journal I will also write my thoughts and feelings as far as I have power to express them in words. In four days from to-day, on the 25th of this month, I will be eighteen (18) yrs. old, but there are many things in my past life that give me pleasure to reflect upon and which I would like to record here, were my memory sufficient to supply me with the necessary details. As I sit in school to-day with the fresh breeze coming through the open window, (for it is very warm weather for January) visions of the past crowd thickly upon me. Now I see myself with my companions, with childish glee, taming the calves in the yard, climbing over barns and stables, sliding and keeling down the sleep sides of stacks, and performing various other feats that only children can execute and enjoy with the same degree of freedom that we did then; each day declaring, “this is the most fun I ever had in my life.” Then I see us in after life. Myself, with my three girl companions; Inez, Thyrsa, and Jamie; seem to have drawn ourselves away from all other society and formed a circle of our own. We have become so attached and united that we have often said that each one of us formed a fourth and that all combined made one whole, nor is one complete without the others. WE seem to visit with no one but ourselves and spend our spare time inwalking through the streets together in the eveningwalking or sitting in the Meadows, which seem to whisper our thoughts and to have become a very part of ourselves. Often have sat by the falls in those dear old meadows and indulged in day dreams. Often have we expressed our desire to be buried beneath the old tree under which we sat. Often have we foolishly said that the old tree dying inch by inch and branch by branch was symbolical of our lives, and that when death should end our lives on this earth the old tree would die with us.
January 21st, 1897
Many flowers have we gathered in this spot, and one bouquet that we gathered in the spring of ’95, is withered and dead in an old box at home. One momento I have to which I have become very much attached. June 23rd, 1895: we were down by the falls, but the water was low and only a drizzling strain flowered over the bank. Removing shoes and stocking, and with dresses and unmentionables hitched up, we waded in the stream. Janie was not there but Inez, Thyrza, and myself each found a clam shell which we brought home and painted, while with a spray of forget-me-nots, the inscription “Meadow,” and our initials on one side and June 23rd, 1895 on the other. We always had peculiar feelings when in the meadows which we termed the “meadow feeling” and we found a verse which describe it in this way.
A feeling of sadness and longing
That is not a heir to pain
And resembles sorrow, only,
As the mist resembles rain.”
Well, I am out of the humor of writing and will lay this away until another time.
February 8th, 1897.
At school again, Time 2:40 P.M. Today is Monday and after an absence of over two a weeks on account of a severe cold I am again at dreary old school. It seems to me that school and I do not go very well to-gether this year, for restlessness and longing, which I sometimes think I shouldn’t harbor, take possession of me most every day. How I sometimes long for Summer and the dear old times when Jean was not sick and could be with us in all our rambles and conversations. Now when we see her we have to check any lively mirth lest the excitement should cause her heart to be worse. Poor girl! I hope it won’t be long before she will be as well as usual. A week ago yesterday Inez Thyrza and myself went up to Ivy’s and spent the afternoon with Jean. We got to telling her of all that had happened while she had been sick. We laughed quite a good deal and gassed with the freedom that only we four can enjoy. Then Ives and Ivy came and Ivy got supper for us. It seemed quite like old time. We had the table to ourselves, one of us on each side as we had so often been before. We went from there to Mutual and Charley Neil took Inez home. Last Wednesday Inez and I went to Joe Warr’s in a rutter. We stopped and got Jean and afterwards we all three went for a ride. We stoped at the schoolhouse at recess and got Thyrza and we all rode a few rods. Thyrza, Inez and myself made a handkerchief box pit pf sea foam work and gave it to Janie. She was very much pleased with it.
Yesterday we went to Sunday School and meeting, then went and say Jean. She seems much better the last two or three days and we all feel quite encouraged. All night we went to the conjoint mutual. On the way home we met Charley Neil. He came down to our house with the rest of the Buttermilk crowd. Thyrza went out of the back door and home. Inez tried to do the same but I wuld not let her go until Charley had left. Then she went home and the sleigh he was in on the way, Charley jumped out and took her home. The result is she has a partner for the coming theatres. Ben Pack and I went over to Inez’s the same night, just for meanness and staid until Charley left.
Feb. 15th 1897
Monday, a week ago to-do, we all went to see the Johnson and Houtz Dramatic Company play the theatre entitled, “Jack O’Diamond. It was lovely. Of course, as usual, we all fell in love (in our way) with the Hero, Jack Diamond. Then what we liked better still, Ray Westwood and Phebe Philips, both of whom we met a year ago last July at Springville, were with the company. (I always do love to think of that trip to Springville and seeing those two people brought it back to me with great force) We heard they spoke of us and wondered where we lived. We met Ray Westwood on the street, two or three times but he did not know us and were too bashful to speak to him. Tuesday we went to the play entitled, “Linwood.” It was good but not so good as the first. After the theatre we went to the other hall to the dance. The West Bros. from Ogden furnished the music. It was lovely but somehow I would not enjoy dancing as much as usual. I received an introduction to Mr. Work, the Oakley schoolteacher. I talked to him quite a bit. Danced in a set opposite Ray Westwood, took a good look at him without being rude, but did not speak. Wednesday went to the theatre entitled “The Black Flog.” It was a fizzle. Part of the scenery fell down in the middle of one act, Ray W. was on the stage, and he jumped and caught it. Phebe Philips laughed and could not say her part for quite a while. Many other accidents occurred and we were all glad to get home. Theatre company left Thursday. Since then we have been struggling with the blues as we always do when any one leaves the town. Inez and I declare that Ray has gone off with our hearts but Thryza likes Jack better; he is married though. Went to a dance last Friday. Prizes were given for best waltzers. Mr. Koyle and Lucy Smithers took the first prizes. Oh what a horrible feeling I had after that dance. I will not attempt to describe it. Saw Ethie Malin and Marre Sleinbridge there. I danced the prize dance with Bert Maxwell. Visited Hatty and Ethie to-do. Ate supper with them.
March 10th 1897
On the 19th of February, Thare, Lizzie, Eva, Lilie Knolwton; Pearl, Inez, Thyrza and myself dressed in sheets and pillow cases and went to a masquerade ball. We did not think of it until after four o’clock but we went and had a pretty good time. Some knew who we were, some did not. Before we went we decided between us, that if any one asked us what we represented we would tell them, Angels, and when plied with questions we did so. I will write a conversation I had with Mr. Koyle while dancing with him. Not because I think it more interesting than many other conversations I have had, but because it is a type of many of the questions we were plied with. Mr. Koyle is a very good dancer and I like to dance with him. He is also gifted remarkably with talk and when he chooses can flatter one until if she chose to believe him, she would be highly exalted in her own opinion. Some time I want to write a few of the conversations I have had with him. Well, on dancing with him on this particular occasion, his first question was,
Well, what are you ladies representing to-night?
Why! Angels of course!
O-o-oh! I took you to be ghosts, but of course if I had thought a moment I would have known you were angels.
Certainly! I should think you could tell that by one look at us.
Well I hardly thought you looked like angels, because, you see, I have sometimes fancied that I looked like an angel myself.
And you didn’t think we looked exactly like you?
Well then that was where you made a great mistakes, when you thought you looked like an angel.
This ended the conversation until we were going to our seats, then he told me that when he first saw us it frightened him so he ran away and did not dare to come back for quite a long time. As he seated me he said to LIzzie, by where I sat. “What do you think she told me?
I don’t know—what?
That you are angels.
Lizzie assured him that it was so and with a few other jesting remarks, he went away.
I had been introduced to Mr. Work, the Oakley school teacher, no, the dance before this and he told me I looked quite phantom like, quite ghost-like, I told him I fell that way all buy my face. My face, I know was scarlet from the effects of dancing and wearing mask, Went to dance the next Friday. The next Friday after that was a prize dance for the poorest-lady and gentleman waltzer. Of all dancing I ever say, I believe there was the worst. They gave the prize for the poorest to Eva and Will Williams. The next poorest to Lulu and Uncle Don. (Uncle Don, by the way, went to Salt Lake City Saturday expected to be married to Emma Lambert to-day.) They spent the money they got to treat the dance to candy and nuts. Of course, they were not the poorest dancers, but they put it on as much as they could. Charley Leonard was heard to remark that he didn’t see why they gave the prizes to ones that really were good dancers. He didn’t seem to realize that that was the bets way, as in the other case the ones that got the prizes would be offended. I really have forgotten whether there has been any more dances since then or not, but I do know that a week from last night Sunday we had a rousing good time, in the following manner. Inez, Thare and I went to aunt Salley’s after meeting and stayed there until Mutual. On our way down we met Charley Neil and Rob with a sleigh. They asked us to get in and they would take us to meeting. We did so. Heard John Seymour speak. He has just returned from a mission.
I was on the program for an organ selection. Played Wild Flower. The live Whites and Ed Hartin were also to meeting. After meeting of course we were invited to ride and Pearl, Inez and myself were invited to stay in after the crowd that rode down from meeting had got out, which we did. Here is where our fun came in. Enjoyed ourselves immensely gassing and talking, but I fancy we were not game enough for them by a few of their expressions. Dave White put his arm around Inez, but of course she moved and wouldn’t stand it. I believe Jim tried to do the same with me but I wouldn’t stand it either. The great big Donkeys them! They must have thought they were out with cranks but they found out their mistake. Charley Neil and Ed Hortin kept their places and acted all right as far as I know. We got home at 10 or half past by the clock. Last Monday night we all went to a surprise on Grandma Pack, she being eighty years old that day. Thryza, Inez, Thare and I sang “Come to me gentle dreams.” All the young folks sang, “We sat by the river.” Thare; Ann and I sang the “Dismal Swamp.” I sang alto. We sang the song for Grandma’s benefit because Grandpa used to sing it so much.
Last night twenty two (22) of us went to Mr. Nubeys to see Miss Paul who is going to leave for Salt Lake City, her home. Had a very good time. Played cards, laughed and joked, had candy, nuts, chocolate and cake for refreshments. Miss Paul recited two pieces. Orl and Thare sang, “My Heland Home.” Orl sang “The song that searched my heart,” and Inez, Thare, Thyrza and myself sang, “Do they think of me at home.” Got home at half past twelve. Tomorrow there is going to be a dance. We all will go as the Park City band will furnish the music. I could write much more now I have got started but it is bed time and oh! I believe I am sleepy. We haven’t been to school for two weeks and though we wont own it I believe we have stoped for good. (April 14th. Yes we have stoped for good and school closes one week form next Friday.)
March 28th 1897
I have such a strange feeling to-day. It is the same that I always have in the Spring, but mingled with it is a feeling of dreariness and my thoughts seem to go back to sometime in the past, but what time and what circumstance connected with it I do not know. To-do is Sunday and I have been to Sunday school. The wind is whistling around the corners of the house and there is a suspicion of snow in the air. I have many feelings mingled to-do but the most prominent one is the blues. Perhaps it is a reaction from the fun we had last night, but I will speak of that in its order. Well, on the 26th we went to the dance but were disappointed because the Park City people who were intending to come failed to do so. The music was good but somehow I can’t say that I had a very good time. I forgot to speak about going to Park City on the 25th of this month. Fera took Thare, Lea and I over to do some shopping. We were only there about three hours but I enjoyed myself because it was such a rest to see strange faces and strange sights. Oh I am so sick of the old Kamas streets and of doing nothing but dance, dance, dance, all the time that I don’t know what to do. Almost every dance is alike here and when you have been to one you might say you have been to them all. I am now living in hopes of going to Vernal with Thare and Fera when they go. Well now about last night. About 20 of us went in a hay rack down the meadows to Freds stack for a load of hay. We tumbled over the hay, pushing each other off the stack and all together had a wild frolic. We all rode up on the load which was swaying to and fro and threatening to tip over. The moon was not up but there were numerous starts which shining on the snow gave us a very pleasant light. (April 14th I have made a mistake and put this piece in my book in the wrong place)
March 23rd 1897.
I have just returned from Young Ladies Meeting and some way I don’t feel like writing but I want to tell of things that have transpired since I last wrote. Of course I went to the dance I spoke of in my writings of March 10th 97. The music was fine. Enjoyed dancing quite well. Received an introduction to a Mr. Wilkins from Peoa. Danced lots but I didn’t quite relish the idea of having to say, “Excuse me I am engaged”, to two or three persons nearly every time I danced. Went to supper with Orl. Last Monday all of girls went a sleigh ride and had a fine time. Jean went with us. Got stuck in the mud in front of Carpenters Store but succeeded in pulling out by a supreme effort on the part of the horses considering they did not know which to obey, the numerous cries of “get up,” from the sleigh or the ones of, “Whoa” from the ground in front of the store. These cries were from the loafers you see. On the next Sunday we went to Conjoint Mutual. I felt like a stuffed punkin or some other horrible thing because being secretary of the Young Ladies Association, I had to sit right in the front of the stage and read and take the minutes. The Oakley boys were there and we rode home with them. On the 17th, St. Patricks day, the boys took all the old ladies a sleigh ride so we girls decided to take the old gentlemen. When we got out we found we had quite a procession. I will describe it on its way to Oakley. Of course there was a profusion of green every where. First came the boys with the old ladies. There was a large sleigh load and it was drawn by six horses. The five boys were on an elevated seat in front. They all had green on their hats and there was a green flag composed of sister Alwoods cape hoisted on a whip stock. Next in order came our sleigh of 8 girls, 20 women, and to 6 old gentlemen. We had the stars and stripes very prettily arrange all around the box. The American Flag hoisted at one end of the sleigh and a large Irish green flag at the other. These floated picturesquely in the breeze and every one said they looked lovely. Our sleigh was drawn by four horses driven by Lizzie and Thare. Next came Ott and Parley dressed in Ma’s and Aunt Lucy’s dresses in a queer looking cutter that the old doctor used to have. Two lumber teams that feel in on the way completed the procession, and we passed through Oakley singing and laughing. Mr. Work and some of his scholars were in front of the school house when we passed. We all returned home feeling refreshed for our out. Last Sunday went to Sunday School, Meeting and Mutual. After meeting went to see Jean. She has moved down home. Dr. Gregor had been to see her. He performed an operation. I believe she is on the improve now. Well I am in a hurry as Ma has gone to bed with a special instructions for me to remember my failing and go to bed. It is now 20 minutes to eleven.
April 13th 1897.
I did think I would not write anymore in my Journal until something interesting happened, but some how every time I go to Young Ladies meeting (as I have been to-night), the spirit of writing attacks me. I spoke a few words in meeting to-night. This is the third time and I spoke more than I did either time before but goodness known I did not speak long then. Last night we went to a show or theater by the Woodland Dramatic Co. It was horrid. There was a dance after it. I enjoyed dancing quite well although the music was tuff and I felt lost without Inez and Thyrza. I danced twelve times handrumming without stopping, then came home. Lizzie went with Mr. Work.
April 21st 1897.
Last Saturday we went to a theater by the Kamas Dramatic Co. Last Sunday Thyrza, Inez and I sang in Mutual. Day before yesterday, Thyrza Inez and I went down the meadows. Had the same Meadow Feeling as usual. We decided that each of us would write a story, a description of Nature or anything we chose just so it was our own composition, and put it in a hole in our old tree in the meadows then every two weeks we will gather there and read them. I don’t know how long we will keep this up. Last night we went to a dance. Thyrza was not there but Inez was and we all had a pretty good time. The dance was free: It was given by the building committee for those who have worked on the meeting house. It seems like I can never stop when I get started to write and I fear my journal will be kind of tiresome if I keep on in this way. I don’t know as there is any use in telling about every dance I go to. Suffice it to say they are all nearly the same. We go to them often and if anything happens not of the usual order then is the time to write it.
May 10th 1897.
Well it has been quite a while since I last wrote and nothing very extraordinary has happened but I will be brief and state what has happened in as few words as possible. On the 26th of April it being just one week from Easter Sunday, Jo Inez, Thryza and myself suddenly took it into our heads to have an easter dinner down the meadows. Accordingly about half past four found us seated under our old tree, the cloth spread on the ground and covered with dishes and the eatables which we had taken with us while nearby under another tree our camp fire blazed and cracked merrily. Having finished our meal we were lying down enjoying the ripple of the water as it clashed over the bank when we were suddenly surprised by the advent of four boys on the scene, Chunk, Tom, Will and Sam Turnbow. We gave them the remains of our meal and after they had finished eating they challenged us to a game of backout. We crossed the poles over the stream safely but on our return, (why I wonder do all the accidents seem to fall to my lot?) I slipped on one pole and it suddenly tipped down. I lost my balance and the next instant, after an heroic jump found myself emerged above my knees in the cold water while, after the excitement had quieted down, the rest of our party stood on the bank convulsed with laughter at the comical expression my face wore. The campfire was rekindled and after some time I succeeded in getting somewhat dry and we departed for home.
The meadows are grand now. The water is level with the bank and the falls extend much farther along the bank. The violets and snow drops are starting to bloom. On the 5th of May, Inez and I succeeded in getting a cart and an odd looking white horse and went down to Hoytsville to the Young Ladies Conference. Pres’t Taylor and one of her aids, Sister Goddard, were there. We had lovely meetings and were introduced to the sisters. Staid that night at Ethie Maxlins at Rockport. They were very sociable and we enjoyed our stay very much. Last Friday was the Primary Conference at Kamas. I was put in as second counselor to May Burbidge of the Primary Association of Kamas. I hardly like the position but intend to do the best I can. Last Saturday Rob took Thyrza Inez and I down to Rockport to see a ball game between Rockport and Park City. After the game every one, nearly, seemed to be teasing us to stay to the dance. We were seated in the buggy undecided whether to stay or go when De Malin pumped into the jumped into the carriage and sent us flying down the street to his home. That seemed to decide for us and we stayed. Flora and Lill Mitchell and Mr. Work (whose name, by the way is, I believe, Charley) stayed also. We went to the dance, were introduced to quite a number of the Rockport and Park City boys, and all together had a very good time. I had been to three dances in Vernal while I was there but that Rockport was the first time we had been to a dance out of Kamas, in our lives, except then. When we went to Rockport I mean. We had been gassing with the Rockport girls and had arranged to trade one of the Kamas boys for three of the Rockport. We were to have our pick, and being unable to decide said we would draw cuts, we did not do it though. Ethie came to us when the dance was out and said Charley Hortin wanted to know if he was going to be chosen. If so he wanted to go home with us then. When we were going back to Malins, De informed us that he had traded three Rockport girls for one Kamas girl and that he was coming to Kamas to see which one he wanted. At last we decided that the ones that were traded for could hardly leave home very often so as there is going to be a telephone line extended form Kamas to Coalville we would have a private telephone in each house and talk with each other when we pleased. What nonsense people can talk when they try and I do believe we exerted ourselves that night in Rockport. We arrived home safe and sound but very sleepy at three o’clock Sunday morning.
June 1st 1897.
The fair month of May has passed away. How time does fly when one thinks back to the winter yet when thinking of the present it seems to drag so slowly so monotonously that it is almost every time I write in my Journal it is nearly always in a tone of discontent and unrest. A person who read the account of the many parties that I have made an account of here would think that my associates and myself hadnt so much to complain of after all, but that person would not know our nature as we do ourselfes and how we long to know something of the world to receive a good education and advance in things pertaining to life outside of the little town of Kamas. And why should we not be as contended as our sisters who are older? I think I hear some persons remark. I will tell you why. Now here were we last year at this time. Four girls, along, I might say, for while it is true that there are other in the place beside us, we associate very little with them. And why? because we are of that age that were we are not associated with the crowd younger than us, nor yet with those who are older. We are the only ones of our age and being all girls what else could we do but make a crowd, an immense crowd of four, of our own. We have become so attached and used to each other that we are of almost the same mind and we feel odd and strung up when we are with any one but ourselves. We have become so accustomed to laugh and talk with each other and to make enjoyment and fun out of simply nothing that when we are on the street together we almost continually have a smile on our faces whether we are enjoying ourselves or not and I sometimes wonder if the people we meet think we are perfect fools when we can not repress the smile try as we will, whether the person is a strange or not. Well we are the same, this year except one thing, Jean is sick; have been ever since July last year. She has been in bed nearly all the time since Christmas, and the pain and even torture that she has indured I guess no one but herself could tell. Once in a while she is much better and we all feel she is going to speedily recover, but the next time we go to see her she is so much worse and is feeling so much discouraged and is down hearted that the same spirit is infused into us and try as we will we can say very little to encourage and cheer her. Now, of course, we feel as if a part of our being is taken away and we are becoming accustomed to the “We Three” instead of “We Four.” We go into the meadow as usual, and, although they are just as lovely and we love them as dearly as we did, they too seem deprived of many of their allurements. Though we are but 18 and 19 years of age , we have of late, pronounced the dismal verdict “We are growing old.” Well now as to the others. There is Lizzie and Lu and Iva, they are all that they are left unmarried of the girls in the old crowd. Now the boys they have to associate with are Fred, Dan, [unreadable], Ben, Orl, Sam Turnbow, Horace, Stevens, John Hoyt—and Ben Mitchell. Last Tuesday they were over to the Park to a circus. Last Saturday they were to Coalville to a ball game and went to a dance there at night. Last Monday or last night they were at a dance at Kamas. Jode Fisher and three of the Caalville girls were there. Ben took the girls over and introduced them to the Coalville people and they had someone new to talk to. Inez and I were there. We danced but had ourselves and no one but ourselves to talk to except when we were dancing and some one who could not find another seat happened to sit by us and say a few words. Well there is Nan, Lizzie Thomas and Pearl. They are a new addition to the old crowd and besides having all I have mentioned to associate with there is Chunk, Will, Tom and Parley. Lizzie and Nan have been in Salt Lake going to school all winter and are there still. Nan and Pearl were there winter before last and Pearl went there one week ago last Sunday and is there still. Next to us I think their lot has been harder than any. They were four but Sadie died and they are now but three. There is us. We have no boys in our crowd if we go any place we have to rustle for ourselves or go tease Rob to take us. It is true a few Sundays ago Thryza and I went a ride with Dave White and Ed Hortin, but I don’t believe they wanted us and it makes me mad to think of it. Dave White is a stinking little soft-head. Ed Hortin may be all right for all I know but I don’t know anything about him. Charley Neil has been up the last four or five Sundays but we hate him and would have ran away and left him if we could have done so. I didn’t get up till twelve oclock to-day because I was to the dance last night and over slept myself. The wind is blowing and I feel pretty cross but just wait until I see Inez and Thyrza and I wont feel so any longer.
July 3rd 1897.
I returned last Saturday, from a trip which made me feel almost the reverse from what I did when I last wrote in my Journal. It was a trip which afforded me much pleasure and if I could find language which would express my feelings on this trip it would give me much pleasure to read it. A week ago last Friday, June 18th, found Thyrza, Inez and I lively preparing for a trip to Springville. We slept that night at Aunt Lucy’s and the next morning, at six oclock we were folding the streets of Kamas is a lumber wagon, Southward bound and in very jubilant spirits at the prospect before us. We passed the cliffs on the Provo River at an early hour and I think that no more appreciative eyes ever gazed on their beauty than ours. We always have been ardent lovers of Nature and it seemed to me that there was scarcely a spot within our range of vision that escaped our notice and comment. We are especially proud of the cliffs because they are so near our home, and they showed to good advantage this particular morning. The sky was slightly clouded, but not enough to give us the blues as cloudy weather usually does. The great rocks in almost every shape were very near the road; some of them so near that as we looked up at them through the trees it almost seemed that at any moment they would break from their fastenings and crush us beneath them. There is one huge rock which covers a sort of a cave; it was in this cave that John Smith killed a panther three years ago. HE had to go in on his hands and knees and he must have had extra courage or foolhardyism to attempt it. There are large openings in the rocks, which are the mouths of caves. I have not been in these caves myself but many or all of the crowd have been, and they say they are very interesting. The walls are covered with peculiar characters such as animals and other figures. Well we progressed on our way passing through Heber and Charleston. We also saw Midway at a distance. I guess we must have looked quite peculiar with our sunbonnets judging from the smiles with which the passers by greeted us. We reached Provo canyon somewhat tired but fully alive to the beauties it presented. Now and then we would find ourselves on high dugways from which we could look to beautiful green valleys through the centre of which the river runs, so still and calm that scarcely a riple can be heard. Then again we were on a narrow road and the river ran close beside us, so close that we could almost feel ourselves tipped from the wagon and doused in the water; and we certainly would have been if the road had not been so smooth. WE camped for the second time that day in a very pretty place, and we three becoming restless started out on foot leaving aunt Lucy and Parley to come when they got ready. We walked on quite a distance and still seeing no sign of our team coming, and fishermen and teams being quite numerous along the road, we began to look at the dangerus side of the question. We looked behind us and could see nothing but tall mountains composed of rock in layers, so that I gave the appearance of a very steep very wide flight of stairs. A stream of water from some hiden lake in the tops of the mountains, dashed over the rocks and desolved itself into spray. We gave it the name of the Bridal Vale Falls. We, however, could not see them from the point in the road we were at past then. We looked in front of us and could see nothing but the same mountain chain continued, while the road narrowed into a picturesque dugway, blasted in the rocks, where if two teams met goodness know what would be done for I believe it would be impossible for them to pass. The river at this point, having more fall, dashed and foamed over its rocky bed in a most threatening manner. Well, as I said, we began to look at the dangerous side of the question, and the more we thought the more we became alarmed, or at least—I did; so we seated ourselves on a projecting shelf in the rocks and decided to wait; We had been there but a moment when a dust ahead of us warned us of an approaching team. I immediately insisted on us taking to our heels and going back the way we had come, but as the team rounded the bend in the road we saw that it was only a load of hay with a single man, and I contented myself with picking up a rock in case of need, and we all steped down to the edge of the river and waited while it passed. Well it was not long in doing so and we resumed our seat on the rock but were again startled by another dust. This time it was a buggy with two young men in it and we were on our feet in an inkling. “Come on,” exclaimed Thyrza, and started back up the road at a rapid pace. “Well Thyrza, are you going to get scared too? And Inez seemed situated to follow us. We told her we did not like the looks of those men, though I am sure they were not near enough for us to see what they did look like. This was all at needed and this time we did take to our heels in a most remarkable manner, though I am quite positive the young men in question saw us make our rapid retreat. We suddenly became ware that run as we might the buggy would soon overtake us so we stood at the side of the road and turned resolutely to face the foe. We were not frightened, oh no; but brim full of merriment and a little excited because we had worked ourselves up to such a pitch in trying to outrun their horse and hide ourselves from view. One of the young men did not appear to our hasty glance to be very prepossessing, but the other appeared to be remarkable good looking. I think they must have known why we were running for they were both laughing and our? Good looking man turned to us with a laughing face and a pleasant, “hall girls” as the carriage passed. We did not answer him and attended to look at them very seriously but merriment got the upper hand and before they passed we were laughing also. We named him John because of his remarkable resemblance to a school teacher of ours that we liked immensely. Mr. John Bradford. Well we went onward and at last came in sight of our team, but we suddenly turned about and “took to our hells again” and when they came up with us we were seated comfortable once again on our rock at the side of the road. After a few hours travel we came to Provo City. We admired greatly the smooth even lawns and the public buildings, especially the Insane Esylum. A drive of six miles brought us to Springville. It is a very pretty place and we waited in anticipation of new streets, new buildings, new faces, and above all new acquaintances to make. Well I am tired now and will finish this another time.
July 4th 1897.
Well today is the Fourth of July and it is also Sunday. I guess there is nothing better that I can do than finish my trip to Springville. We reached there about half past 6 o’clock on Saturday night; and were at once made perfectly at home by Ida and her husband, Chauncey Whiting. We spent that night in becoming acquainted with our surroundings, and recruiting up after our long journey. We also went that night and visited the spot where Ida’s new house is to be built. We were in the morning to find that the landscape around was very beautiful, it being somewhat foggy we could not so distinctly the night before. Our house as we called it is situated on quite a high bench and although our immediate surroundings were not very grand the view from there was lovely. Provo City, with its buildings and tress could be seen off to the Northwest and Spanish Fork to the Southwest. And directly in front to the west the main part of Springville lay, while the clear blue sweep of Utah Lake stretched farther westward, bordered by a chain of low even hills. When the sun was setting this view was inspiring. The mountains on the East and South shone massive and rugged in its rays while the sun itself reflected like a ball of fire in the waters of the lake. It being Sunday we dressed ourselves and went to meeting. Of course we saw a great many strangers. We met aunt Lucy’s father and her brother, Jim, and were introduced to them.
July 5th 1897.
I was interrupted in my writing yesterday but I mean to persevere and perhaps I will finish this sometime. After meeting was out we overtook some bodies who were going up the sidewalk. Were introduced to two or three, among them Mrs. Westwood, Will and Ray Westwood’s mother. She seemed very nice, told us to be sure and call on her, said Will would be very glad to see us that he never had got over talking about the good time he had when he was up to Kamas. We then went down and Lucy’s sisters, Lizzie Harmers, There were none of the boys in the house when we got there but in a few minutes they came in. Mell was the first. He surprised us he was so tall and although we had seen his picture, I don’t think Thyrza and I would have known him if we had not heard aunt Lucy call him by name. He kissed aunt Lucy and Inez (the first time Inez had ever kissed him) and was then introduced to us. Will Harmer knew us and shook hands with us after greeting Aunt Lucy and Inez. (I suppose he knew us by our pictures if he didn’t any other way, as we were looking through their albums one night and came across our pictures.) We had never seen Vern and expected to see a kid when we did and a bashful one at that but here we were surprised again when he came in later than the rest. He is as large of not larger than Rob and decidedly not half so bashful. We found him the most easy of all of them to get acquainted with. We all went down to Aunt Lucy’s fathers with Nora Harmer and had supper after which we again went to Harmers. They are really very sociable. We did enjoy hearing them all talk and gass, especially Mell, he is so dry and slow we all liked him very much, in fact we liked all the family immensely, except the father or Mr. Albert—as we called him. I believe Will was the most sociable. IT seemed like he was trying all the time to find something to make us enjoy ourselves. Thyrza, Inez, Mell and myself went out on the poarch to sit and were soon found by Vern, Will, Parley, Rondo, Spaffford, and Nora. We staid there until time for the lecture then we set out again for the meeting house. I don’t know how it happened, but some way Inez and Mell, Thyrza and Vern, and Will and myself got quite a ways ahead of the rest and we got separated by the crowd. They said we were fast walkers. Mell said “we are trying to run away from you old folks.” We passed by an ice cream parlor. Will Harmer suggested that we go in but Mell seemed to want to go to one farther down. While they were deciding the point the others caught up with us, and the matter was referred to them and it was decided to wait until after meeting. Mell did not want to go to the lecture and tried to get Inez to go some place else with him, so when we reached the meeting house, Aunt Lucy, Inez, Thyrza, Will and myself were all that were in. After it was out we were again joined by the others. Inez, Thyrza and Mell started off in the wrong direction, we called to them so Inez and Thyrza suddenly whirled about and came back. I guess Mell went on; at any rate he did not follow us and we saw no more of him that night. WE went back to the ice cream parlor and had some ice cream. Will and Vern took us back to Ida’s in a wagon and staid there a few minutes. After they were gone we all went to bed and to sleep. Next day we all went down town to do some shopping. Went to Deal’s store and got Thyrza and Nan each a dress, also went to the milliner shop and got a hat for Inez. From there we again went to Harmers. Thryza, Inez, and I went out and sat in the shade of a large apple tree on the lawn. Vern again surprised us by coming and talking to us. We could not help seeing the difference in him and the Kamas boys of his age being called to supper we went into the house. Mr. Albert said he was going to kiss every one that sat on his lawn and commenced by grabing Inez and kissing her. Thryza and I ran through the bedroom ran through the bedroom and tried to get out doors. I succeeded but he caught Thyrza and kissed her. We all dislike that man and though I guess we did not try to feel differently toward him I don’t think we would have done so as we had. After super we three went out to take in the town. We walked until we were nearly dead and met Riley. He told us Ida and aunt Lucy had gone home so we started to follow them. We saw Nora Harmer and she tried to get me to stay with her all night, but we thought we had to go so she made us promise we would stay next night. We arrived home, as we thought at the time, more dead than alive. We thought perhaps we would go to Spanish Fork, Friday night, to a dance; so as we had nothing much to do we went, Tuesday morning, down town, got some to read, returned and commenced to make Thyrza’s dress, Parley, Inez, Thyrza and I went down town after sun down and went to Harners as we had promised. Nora and we three started out for a walk, or to go “bumming” as she called it. Called for Phibe Philips on our way. I must confess I was kind of disgusted, if I may so term it, with those girls, for they hallowed to every one we met and had every one looking at us. They were determined to pass in front of every crowd of boys they could see, and even whistled one man out of the hotel, then ran when they saw him coming. Well I can’t describe how we slept that night for we slept three in a bed, it was awful hot, and we had a strong delusion that someone was passing through our room all night and we did not dare to run over ourselves. We got on early next morning and were making our bed, when Mell and Parley walked through our room. I guess they did not know we were in know we were in there. As luck would have it we had no buckles missing and were presentable. All day Wednesday we spent at Nora’s and nearly died with the heat Went over to Spafford’s a short time. At night we went to Harmers to an ice cream party. Nora and we three went for a short walk, returned to find Sarah and Phebe Philips there so we girls started for their horse to get some sauce dishes. Met Mell and Ellis Harmer on our way. Nora introduced us to Ellis in the three miss Packs. The Philips girls also included themselves in the introduction and bowed (?) so profusely that the ice was at once broken and we became acquainted in short order. We kept up a lively talk all the way three and back, also when while we were waiting for Phebe to bring the dishes out.
July 14th 1897.
Upon reaching Harmers, Inez, Phebe, Sarah, Norah, Mell and Ellis [?] took a streak (?) and went down to see the train coming. Thyrza and I did not know they were going and that is how we were left to eat ice cream at the first table while they ate at the second. After ice cream we spent a short time talking and gassing then we girls said we were going down to the depot again and leave the boys there. A race insued and many of the boys reached there as soon as we did. Well we watched another passenger train come in and while there were introduced to Levi Philips. We left the depot and decided to go up town. Sarah Philips follow had come and she had to go home. While the others were standing on the corner, Vern, Thyrza, Inez and myself ran a race. Vern and I came out on head and I guess if we had run any further he would have been the winner as I was beginning to lag, but I grabbed his coat tail and by this means stopped the race. Sarah having left we all of us them proceeded on our way up town. We walked through the square, Inez and Thyrza and Vern leading, then came Will Harmer and I, Parley and Rinda Stafford, Norah, Phebe Philips and Ellis Harmer. Mell and Marth Spafford did not come through the square with us, and we saw no more of them that night. We walked north about 4 or 5 blocks past the bridge. Nora Phebe Philips and Ellis Harmer got quite a way behind and when we returned, they, with Ray Westwood, whom we had met; were seated on some steps on the sidewalk. We were introduced to Ray Westwood and to our surprise he said he believed he had met us before. I think Nora must have told him who we were. I wonder why it is that people can enjoy themselves better with strangers, saying and doing the very same things that they do at home, than they can with those with whom they have always been acquainted. I do not know, but we did enjoy ourselves very much that night, and in fact; nearly all the time we were down there. Parley took Rinda home and Inez; Thyrza and Vern, Will and I, Ray Westwood, and Phebe and Ellis and Nora, all seated ourselves in a string in the window of Renolds’ store to rest and talk. I guess we sat there about half an hour and when we reached Harmers again it was twelve o’clock and still no signs of Parley. Aunt Lucy was pretty vexed at us for staying out so late and was in a hurry to et home so Will and Vrn hitched up our team and as aunt Lucy was afraid for us to drive home without Parley we called to Spaffords for him. Disturbed him and Rinday, Mell and Martha sitting on the front door step. Thursday we finished Thyrza’s dress and were fully determined not to go down town that day, but as the sun commenced to go down we grew restless and at Parleys request dressed ourselves to go and visit Gertie Harrison. We saw Will and Vern on main street. Will found us and walked as far as Boyers where he was to attend teachers meeting. He said afterwards he looked all over for us after meeting but could not find us. That was very natural too as not finding Gertie at home, we walked as far south as the bicycle track and then went back to Ida’s. Friday being Spanish Fork day of course we were anxious tog et Parley off down town to see if they were all going, and he had seemed as anxious to go as we, but to our discomfort Gertie Harrison and her cousin, Bell Huntington, hearing that we were in town came to see us. That settled Parley and he had no desire or seemed to have no desire but to remain and talk to them. We thought they were never going to leave and kept getting more nervous and more mad at Parley every minute.
July 15th 1897.
When at last they decided to leave, it was so late that we had given up all hopes of going to Spanish Fork, so upon Parley’s hitching up the team we all went down town. When Gertie and her cousin go out they told us if we did not go to Spanish Fork to come to choir practice that night. That settled Parley again and Spanish Fork also. Well when we reached Harmers we found that Nora was going but the rest had got an idea there was going to be no dance so at the appointed time we set off for choir practice. Will Harmer wanted to go to Spanish Fork then and said he would get a team and rig if we wanted to go. We told him we did but Parley thought we would have a better time at choir practice, and Ida thought it was too late, so at least we three got pretty spunk and told them to go to practice if they wanted to. If we did not show out to them that we were spunky we felt it pretty much ourselves. Well the choir being up in the gallery, Parley didn’t get only a peak at Gertie and we were glad of it. Ellis Harmer brought two girls, twin sisters, there. (How very prettily I am writing) They were in the choir so he sat talking to us. We left; before it was out; to get some ice cream and he came with us, intending of course to go back again. The cream that night was delicious. We each had two large dishes and we took our time to eat it. I don’t believe we realized how late it was for we were somewhat surprised, and I believe Ellis Harmer was quite put out (which of course he should have been) to find the meeting hose darkened and his girls gone without him. But he turned it off, said they knew the way home as well as he did and it would not hurt them to go alone. He had recently been trouble with the rheumatism and he said he would tell them he was taken suddenly and that Will Harmer had to take him home, that Will promised to see them home for him and when he went to do so they had gone. Will said Ellis would tell them some yarn then if they would have no more to do with him he would tell them it suited him if it did them and would care nothing more about it. He walked as far with us as Renold’s corner then after standing a while, talking about the moon, when they were coming up to Kamas and various other things, after Ellis inviting Parley to be sure and bring us to their house when we came down again, (he said, of course it was natural that girls should feel kid of shy in calling upon boys; but Parley would bring us we wouldn’t feel so) he went home and we returned to Harmers, where after bidding all good bye we returned to Ida’s, packed our clothes after twelve o’clock at night and went to bed. I have three boquets that I wore Wednesday, Thursday and Friday stowed away in my box now. Well we left Springville at six o’clock Saturday morning. We left Inez crying. Passed over the old road again (though to tell the truth we were too sleepy to notice it or even talk) and arrived home Saturday night. Since then I don’t believe a day has passed without us thinking of Inez and wishing that we were with her. We got a letter from her a week ago last Tuesday. She seems to be having a good time and making a good many acquaintances. Says Mell and his father have been having row, that Mell walked up town and sat in the square with her Sunday. We answered her letter the next day and you bet it contained a good deal of nonsense. Last night Jim White and Ed Hortin came to see Thyrza and I. Asked us to go to the swing with them which we did. We walked the streets then came here and sat on the front poarch. Nan and Pearl stole their horses and rode them for about two hours. They left at twelve o’clock. I will just state here lest I forget it that Ives and Ivy have a baby girl born in May. OH and Eve have a baby girl born at fifteen minutes to ten on the night of June 30th 1897. Maggie and Doris are here; for good may be. Seth Williams is a regular devil. Mame Griffith and Inez Knowlton are also here.
July 19th 1897.
Yesterday, Zva, Lu, Nora, Pearl, Inez Knowlton, Thyrza, Fraut Williams and I decided to go for a ride. When we got ready Chink and Will got in and went with us. We were in head of a wagon with two boys in it. They raised their hats and waved their hands at us and of course we answered them by smiling and waving our parasol. They started their horses on a lope and we thought they were trying to pass us so we started our horses as fast as they could go and were laughing so we could not hear them call to us. At last we passed a man who pointed at our wagon and judging from his manner that something was wrong we stopped to find that if we had gone much farther we would have had a serious break down. We nearly killed ourselves laughing when we stoped to think that those boys were running their horses to tell us something was broke while we were running ours to get away from them. We went to Steven’s and staid a while. Marie and Clarisa played the piano for us. I tried also but did not succeed very well as I had not tried to play on a piano but once before in my life. We got home after dark then Inez, Frank, Chunk, Will and myself went up to the swing. Ed Hortin and a Mr. Frasier were up. They passed our house three or four times but I guess they were afraid to come in. WE saw them up to the swing, also Ward Stevens, Walt Hortin and a number of others. I introduced Inez to Ed Hortin and we were introduced to MR. Frasier. Watched the moon rise then came home and went to bed.
July 27th 1897.
Well the 24th of July has passed and with it the great Pioneer Jubilee. It must have been something grad from what I hear, but of course I staid home as did Pearl and Mag & Eve while the rest of the family went, or at least all of it that did not go on the Duchesne River on an excursion. Those who went there are Orl and Doat, Horace Stevens and Nam, Fred, and Lu, and Ben Mitchell and Clarisa Stevens. Thyrza, Pearl and myself were the only ones to represent the female portion of Buttermilk. We went to the dance Friday night and I guess had enough fun for all those who were not there; at any rate every one seemed to think it was the best dance they had been to for a long time in spite of the music. Saturday Thyrza & I and Pearl went to the childrens dance, after it was over we returned home but Thyrza and I went to Selena’s to get some flowers to wear to the dance again that night.
Seeing a crowd in front of Carpenters store we decided to go to Nancy’s and view the fun. Saw a couple of sack races, six or seven men in each race, and then returned home. On our way we saw Ward Stevens and Ed Hortin in aunt Mary’s lot. I don’t know whether they saw us or not, but they turned their horses and started away. We quickened our pace in order to get to our house so we would not have to meet them on the road. We were going around the corner but seeing the dust up the road we became suddenly shy of meeting them just then, so dodged through the gap in the fence by the coal shed and went in at our front door. #1 [The boys stopped their horses at the gate and Thyrza started out of the back door to go home. I grabed her sleeve and pulled her back with the half commanding half beseeching ejackulation, as I did so, of _____ “Thyrz come rigth back in here don’t for goodness sake leave me alone.” I at last succeeded in getting her stationed on the lounge in the kitchen, while with a promise to stay there while I went to answer their knock. I think we knew their errand and our actions were not because we did not want to go to the dance with them, but because we were rather bashful on such an occasion for Thryz assured me that she was scared pretty near to death. I told her I was too and that was why I wanted her to stay. As I was saying I went to the door to meet them and Ed Hortin asked me if I would go to the dance with him that night. I promised to do so and at Ward Steven’s request went to summons Thyrza. She gave him an answer in the affirmative and so it happened that we surprised nearly all the people that night by walking into the hall with them. (Ed, and Ward I mean of course; not all the people). My dear reader – if you be even no one but myself – you will not wonder at the expression of “Oh how shall we receive them” “How on earth will we feel when we go in the hall” – etc., when I tell you that was the very first time I had ever gone any place like that with any one in my life. Eighteen years old too; some girls my age would consider me somewhat behind the times but we girls never have been so soft as other girls (yes we call it positive soft to think that one must have a beau and all that sort of thing at sixteen years of age.). When persons get to be eighteen and nineteen years old we consider these things all right, or at least if it is not carried to excess, and we think there is quite a bit of solid enjoyment in going out with boys occasionly, but one thing we have always despised and never could see any enjoyment in, and never could se how some girls could do, is to go out with boys and let them walk or sit with their arms around them; such actions in our opinions are disgusting and are not becoming to ladies and gentleman.] #2 [After things are settled between a couple and matrimony in view there is plenty of time for such things, then – but I will just give a statement of how I want my affianced husband to treat me in such matters. I don’t want him to be to awfully affectionate in his actions to ward me for then I would get tired of him, but he can show his affection in a quiet gently manly manner. He must positively treat me with all the respect that he could accord to any one, without being over bearing and superfluous in his acts of politeness. I don’t want him to feel strung up or anything of that sort in my presence but I want to feel free and easy with him and I want him to feel the same with me. When he caresses me he must do so in a true and sincere spirit and then not go and caress some other girl and drive as much enjoyment therefrom, but above all he must love me and place implicit trust and faith in me. IF these traits be deep, true and sincere I think that I will be satisfied. Unlike Gorcon in his piece of “How I want my wife “The wife I want,” I do not want an angel, a god of perfection, for I am far from reaching that height myself, and if you please my husband must not be as high above me as the angels are, but only a little way; just so I can look up to him and feel that he is strong and true and, in time of need, that he is something that I can rely and depend upon, that I can trust with the dearest thing in my life and one who will not betray that trust, but will shield it and derive pleasure and even joy from it through life. Enough of that.]
Sunday I was pretty tired but I got up at eight oclock, took a cold water bath and went to Sunday School. Frant (?) Williams came down in the after noon and staid til night. She is the funniest girl I ever saw. She done hardly any thing but fool and scuffle with Sam (?), and she hinted at him so hard that at last he took her home. Ben took us all for a short ride in his buggy that night. First me, then Thyrza and Frant, and next Lizze, Thomas and Pearl.
August 6th 1897.
All of the crowd except Thryza and Nan went to a dance Friday night. We were exepcting them to come also, but when we arrived at the dance and I found that Thryza was not coming I told the girls I knew I was going to have the blues and I did succeed in having them pretty well too. The Oakley people, because of a tip over and a general smash up did not get to the dance till twelve o’clock. Along to about the last I, as usual, began to rouse up and ended in having a pretty good time. Ed Hortin asked me to go a ride with him the next Sunday. Sunday Edith Keler came down and we got some horses and Uncle Dod’s buggy and Nan, Pearl, Jean, Thyrza, Edith and myself went for a ride. Just got the horses put away when Ed Hortin and Jim White came for us. WE went down to Oakley, had a swing and arrived home at half past eleven, having enjoyed our ride very much. WE both heartily dislike Jim White and Thyrz declares she has gone with him for her very last time. Went to dance in Uncle Silas Hall last night. Didn’t have a very good time and came home at twenty minutes past twelve. We are in hopes Oakley will not come up next Sunday for as we jestingly put it, we want a day off and believe they do too.
August 17th 1897.
Well contrary to our hopes, the Oakley boys did come up Sunday and having asked if they could spend the evening with us, Thyrza, Jim, White, Ed Hortin and myself with Rob, sat in aunt Mary’s North room and played cards. Ma came up and nearly frightened me to death by wanting me to go home with her. For some reason she seems to have taken a dislike Ed Hortin and she can’t bear the thought of me being with him. When she left she told me to come there a minutes and I followed her from the room. She said if I done as she wanted to, I would go home then. That settled my fun for the night, for I went contrary to her wishes and remained where I was; yet I think if she had known she would rather I had stayed there with the crowd who came in later than to have gone home, for if I had done so he would have come home with me and having come up with Horace Stevens he could not have gone to Oakley without him so we would have had to sit at home alone and in the dark too as we were out of coal oil and none could be ha din the stores. They went away and we went to bed at twelve that night. I forgot to tell about Saturday night. There was a dance but we did not go. The Pack boys and Horace Stevens and Ed Hortin came to our house from the hall. We played pomp for a while on the lawn, then went up on the county road and ran races after which we walked up to the Point and sat on Thorn Creek bridge and sang songs. Returned home and staid up till half past one. We thought the crowd was never going to leave that night and Lizzie gave them a pretty broad hint to go, but like sensible people they took it in good port and gassed about it. Last Sunday we went to the swing for a while, then Ben, and I and Lizzie Thomas and Dan Williams went to Harry Mitchels in one buggy, while John Hoyt and Nand & Parley and Emma Hoyt went in another. There was a fruit peddler there and we ate water melons, cantaloupes, peaches, apples and tomatoes until we were nearly sick. Got home at twelve or a little after. #3 [ It seems strange I know write about pleasure and then pass directly to sorrow, but such is life and we never know one day what will happen the next or whether we will be happy and cheerful or filled with dismal sorrow, and is not joy and sorrow strangely intermingled in this world of ours anyway? A baby girl was born to Hattie and Bert last night at seven o’clock, but the little one was badly deformed, its feet being very crooked and a portion of the spinal column missing. I did not see it myself but Thare and Eva said it has the sweetest face they ever saw and dark curly hair. They say that she was dying and sent for Pa. He blessed her and gave her the name of Done [???]. He prayed that if it was the will of the Lord that she would live and be healed but if not that she would pass away without pain. The folks said that Bert helped to hold her and he sobbed until they could hear him all over the room. Hattie seemed very brave. They said the babys eye remained open all during the blessing; after it she fell to sleep. They took her to Hattie who kissed her then the little spirit passed away having lived only two hours and a half. Hattie and Bert are one of the sweetest couples I have ever seen and they seem to almost worship each other. It seems very hard but I have o doubt it is for the best.]
Nov. 19th 1897.
My poor Journal, how I have neglected you, yet how often have I been determined to write, yet and as often through the pressure of events and my own laziness have I failed to do so. There has not been apparently any change in my own life since I last wrote, people here come and gone and I have drifted along in the old old way but not without company.
Yes, though there has been no change in my life except in an occasional change in my thoughts and feelings, there has been a change in the lives of some who are very dear to me. Maggie’s life has been blessed by the advent of a tiny boy who has found its way into all of our hearts. He was born on the 30th day of August ’97, and has been named Basil Lowry Williams. The husband who should have been by her side through all the joys and cares of life has proved himself unworthy of Mag and she now says that the love she once had for him is dead. They have, as far as known, separated for good and there is talk of a divorce. Thare too, has returned to Vernal with a husband who is very much her inferior, one who has proved himself so small and unmanly as to arouse a feeling of dislike and distrust in all of our hearts. Whether she will live with him much longer or not remains for the future to disclose. Ott and Eva have named their little daughter Deonn, (I don’t believe I have mentioned this before). Ives and Ivy have named theirs Mignon. May and Will are not destitute of the blessings that have been given the other couples that I have mentioned for they have a little daughter born on the 26 day of October and they have given her the name of Madelon. Yes and there is yet another Ida (Inez’s sister) and Chauncey Whiting have a daughter born on the 24 day of Octber and they have named her Inez. Keeler’s folks have left Kamas and intend seeking another home. They told us they were going to Glenwood but some think they have gone to Mexico and wish to conceal it in order to escape Mr. Hatch, who is continually persecuting them for the payment of debts. Well that little spell of—what shall I call it?—between Ed Hortin and myself has seased and he has now transferred his attention to Em Burbidge. He has become, or may be always has been for all I know, so he can hardly ever come to dance without drinking, if breath counts for anything, and I think it is disgusting.
As heretofore we have attended quite a number of dances, and, oh yes!, Inez and were in Salt Lake for a few days last month. Saw all the folks there, also Ward and Clarissa Stevens. WE went with Thare and Fera to his old home and saw his half brothers, two of them, They don’t seem to be possessed of many bad qualities that Tera is in possession of. Albert Young had just returned from a mission to Sweden, from which he was released on account of bad health. Of course Inez and I got smitten with him but that was nothing and we are all over it now. He gave us a piece of Sweedish bread that he brought with him and mine is up stairs in my box now. The boys and Lizzie and Liv, are in the canyon. Pearl is in Salt Lake going to school. Ma is in Salt ALke too, and Mag, Pa and I, are home alone. Mag and I have quite surprised ourselves by raising money enough this week to go to three theatres and Ben took us to a fourth. IT was the Albert Hormer and Miss Hattie Rose Co. The first night they played “The Plunger. It was no good and they had a very poor house all the rest of the time they were here. The second night was “The backwoodsman. It was lovely and I don’t want to see a more lovely character than the Backwoodsman, David Crockitt. The third night was “East Lynn” and the fourth “Young Mrs. Wirthrop.” Oh that play was grand. Such lovely characters such a Douglas Winthrop. If characters really existed in real life, as noble and grand as they do on the stage, my heart would be through life, one tattered broken wreck. As it is, my heart is nearly that but but it will only remain so a day or two longer. ‘Oh Theatres, Theatres,’ were you formed only to rend the hearts of innocent country girls? Were you formed only to make them dissatisfied with their old hum drum life and long for the association of characters like those your represent or were you formed to raise their ambitions and thoughts to a higher and nobler sphere and cause them to wish to make their own lives worthy of association with those characters worthy of a true regard, love and respect from all. Yes I feel that we were formed for the last, yet ah! you come, brighten our lives for a few short nights, rend our hearts by causing us to fall in love with one or two of your representatives, are gone and we are left more desolate than before. Then this gradually wears off and the smooth, monotonous stream of every day events rolls steadily onward carrying with it our thoughts, our love, our hopes, our fears, and our life. Oh that I were given power to break the monotonous bands of dullness that envelopes us in their folds! ah that I could raise, raise, on the filing clouds of fancy to my gorgeous castle in the air and there live hapily, beautifully merrily by until the lords of life are revered, until I float on the wings of death to my home in Eternity. Yet I am wrong, wrong, I feel it, I know it, and I would that I could ever bear in mind the watchword “This Life is what you make it.” But I do not always feel like this, oh no, no! for if I did I would begin to think life almost a burden. It is when I feel like this that my thoughts long to express themselves in words, that I feel more competent to write, hence the reason that my journal is filled mostly with sentiments of this kind.
Dec. 30th 1897.
Inez and I are now alone in our little cook house in the Canyon. Supper is over and we have just finished the dishes and swept the floor for the night. Inez is now making our bed and the and the stewing of the apples on the stove and the ticking of the clock form kind of an accompaniment to the scratching of my pensil as I endeavor to transfer my feelings to paper. It seems very odd, when I stop to study over it, that Inez and I are here, the only females for miles around, cooking for a dozen men. A short time ago we would have considered this next to impossible. We are in a very lovely spot in the Canyon. Tall pine trees hem us in on all sides and exclude from our view most of the surrounding country. Looking to the East (North to me for I am somewhat turned here) we can see through the long vistas of pine trees, the outlines of a pine covered mountain, and away to the Northeast a more lofty one, caped with snow, towers above the intervening trees. We arise here at half past four or nearly five o’clock. Our fire is soon roaring, we having started it with a large pile of shavings prepared fo rus by the boys the night before. Though in great haste to prepare breakfast we can scarcely resist the temptation of stepping to our cabin door and enjoying the fresh morning air and the beautiful scenery. O! would that I were given to the power to fully describe the scene that greets our gaze, but alas I truly believe that its grandeur and the sweet feeling of that come with it can be appreciated only by those who view it with a heart filled with the love of Nature; But O! let me shirk my duties in doors for a few moments and you come with me, my heart and my thoughts, and let me again view the scene and attempt to paint a small portion of it here so that in after years I can read and with the aid of my remembrances live over in fancy the position that I now occupy. O! my girl associates we have thought our lives dull, but when the true side is presented to our view the side of love, of purity and freedom from rending sorrow, what a contrast do they present to some lives that are brought within our knowledge. But come, thou companions of my lesior and solitary hours, and together we will wander; while the shade of night still linger, started not, by faint streaks of dawn; from our little cabin door and view the world without. My invisible companions do you behold how Mother Earth ahs doned her mantle of soft white snow? Ah yes; it lies around her form in fold here and drapes there most suited to show her charms as she basks beneath the soft lights, and smiles & tears of Heaven. And the trees too, covered with myriads of sparkling diamonds and with branches laden with snow cast their weird shadows on the snow covered ground and sigh and moan in the soft night air. Still upward we look to the to the starlight starlit sky, the sparkling ethereal sphere that arches so gracefully o’er us, where, too, the full wintry moon, the Queen of Night, sails glides onward and continues her faithful vigil o’er the world. Thou, O sky, form the boundary beyond which mortal eyes can not reach, but I find my companions, my heart, and my thoughts are have still wandered onward upward and are trying but, oh how vainly to explore the realms of Eternity. Ah! Yes I feel that the beauties of eternity are to bright for even mortal thoughts and recalled to duty at last I once more enter our cabin and now breakfast read and the men come in one by one and all are seated once more at the table. Seven o’clock and the shrill shriek of the mill whistles proclaims the working hour. Dawn has crept over the land and dispersed the mystic beauties of night. 9 o’clock and the mountains and trees are bathes in a golden glory as the sun rises from behind the mountain and its rays trip and dance from tree to tree and at last peep in out little window and extend in a brilliant band across the floor. Our lesior time in the after noon is usually spent in reading but occasionally we feel inclined to go for a walk so follow one of the roads to a great distance. Now up short-steep hills and again down in deep hollows. The country is very uneven and one can go scarcely any distance without suddenly coming to wide deep hollow or a steep hill. Day before yesterday Inez and I followed one of the roads till we came to where Tom and DeMalin were getting out logs. They were busy and we did not let them know we were around, but we wrote our name in the snow and they knew we had been there. Today we visited a place which the boys call the Park. We followed the drag road in and out through the pine trees until we suddenly came to a small round valley bordered by pines which grow so thick that they look almost impenetrable when viewed from a short distance. IN the centre of this valley is, we are told, a small round lake which, in the Summer time, is covered with yellow water lilies. The lake is frozen over now and the now lies in one white unbroken sheet over its surface. We walked out in the centre of the valley, wrote our names in the snow, laid down and made our prints in it and returned to camp, home, laden with pine bows with which we have decorated our house.
The mill which stands off to the right of the cook house and is surrounded with sawed lumber, and logs, does not stop running till half past five P.M. By that time it is dark, and I cannot express the sweet sense of enjoyment it vies one to walk on the logs in the yard, listen to the puff and steam of the engine and watch the sparks as they come from the smoke stack and descend in a shower on the shed and fallen trees. It is now bright moonlight and the slab pile is set on fire each night. A glow, so softly beautiful, so so enchanting to the senses is produced that it almost makes one feel that they are in Paradise. Supper over and the dishes done, we seat ourselves around the stove and spend the evening in a lively chat with the boys. Of late we have got in the habit of playing joker on each other, such as placing molasses on the bench for the mill men to sit in and turning cold water down each others backs when we are least expecting it. De Malin, Will, Tom, Inez and I had a merry round up last night. De staid with us, after the rest had gone to bed, to make us a soap spoon because we had broken ours in the scuffle. We got into an argument on Woman Suffrage. We, neither of us, are experts at arguing and, we hate very much to admit it, but he came out victorious. When we found Inez & I were going in the canyon and that De Malin was going to be there, we were gassing with Nan and Thryza and told them we were going to try all our powers and see if we could not get a partner for the Christmas dance. The one that failed was to take a backseat and try her luck with Will Pierson. Of course we had no intentions of doing any such thing but girls will talk you know. Well we have lots of fun gassing with each other about him now, I tell Inez it is time she was trying for Pierson for I went to the dance with him last Saturday night, Christmas. We went to a dance Friday night too and he asked me to go with him while there. We are quite disappointed tonight because we thought we were going home to-night after work, and all of the boys that we have fun with here have gone down from the canyon, so we feel pretty lonesome. We came up here Dec. 13th, went home to spend Christmas. Came up again on the 26th and are going home tomorrow to spend New Years, after which we will come up again. There is a large lake not far from here, which, those say that have seen it is very beautiful. There are tall cliffs on one side of it and it, alas, is surrounded by pure trees. We have been prevented from seeing it on account of the snow being so deep, but are in hopes we will see it soon. We declared to-day that we are coming up here in the Summer if we have to come alone and walk every step of the way.
March 28th, 1897
How times does slip by and yet we hardly seem to realize that months and even years are rolling on and that ere long we will be compelled to lay aside our youthful pleasures and done the somber mantle of middle age and yes, even the gray hairs of old age. Well, “Look to to-day and to-morrow will take care of itself,” don’t let the petty cares and trials of life prevent you from making to-day one that you can look back upon without, as the saying is, hating yourself. I have been going to write in my Journal for a long time but have let other things prevent me, but I am started at last and I pay it much, will begin by telling how our time has been spent. Dancing, yes, quite a good deal, I wonder what we would do for amusement if dances failed us. Mondays we generally have to ourselves. Tuesdays, Young Ladies meeting must be attended to. Wednesdays, our Social Literary and industrial Club, (by the way I must tell of that.) While Inez and I were in the canyon the girls got together and organised a club with Lulu Knowlton as President; Emma Burbidge, Vice Prest; and Ronda Parke, Treasurer. We meet at the houses of the members in turn and the time is spent in, first, sewing for the hostess or the poor. Then we have a supper which is limited to a certain number of dishes or eatables. We then hold a meeting in which we have debates, songs, recitations, essays, speeches, etc. We have now started a story, I was appointed to write the first chapter and each one in the club is to write on to it in turn, I think it will be quite a medley. When we go to every house are thinking of stopping the sewing except for the poor and in cases of necessity and devote more of our time to advancement. Thursday Religion Class, Fridays, Primary. I am the second counselor in that. Friday night there is very frequently a dance. Saturday we have to ourselves. Sunday now anyway is a very dull day, although I go to Sunday School (I am secretary in that) and meeting (I am assistant organist in that). The young men have organized a club and named it the Young Mens Social Club. They meet Tuesdays and Saturdays. A while back, in October I believe, I wrote an essay to the Young Womans Journal entitled a “Trip through the Rockies.” I received as a prize for it eight books bound in cloth. The books are The Scottish Chiefs, Kenilworth, Romola, Hypatia, The White Company, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Ivanhoe and The last days of Pompeii. We have done little else it seems to me, the last two weeks but practice songs for concerts. Miss Wirth and the Y.L.M.I.A. got me up which came of last Friday. Thyrza, Em Burbidge, Inez and I dressed in white dresses that came nearly to our knees and sang a lullaby song. We had our dolls and we have received quite a few compliments on our appearance and our song also. My dress was made in mother hubbard stile with a pink yoke. I wore a pink ribbon sash and my hair hanging in ringlets (not natural). The other girls were dressed the same but with different colored yokes and sashes. Inez & Thyrza wore blue and Em wore red. There will be another concert next Wednesday for the Y.L. Stake treasury. I guess, but I don’t know for sure, that we girls will sing a song in that also. Well it is bed time and the most interest part of my summary is untold. Oh I don’t know as it is very interesting but it is something out of the ordinary run of my existence here to fore. To state it I must go back to New Years night. Oh it is nothing only I went to the dance again with De Malin. Well I done something more which was quite surprising to the rest of the people though I don’t see anything very strange in it. I went that night after the dance home with the Rockport people, spent Sunday and Monday there, went to a dance with them Monday night and came home with De and Hattie M. Peck Tuesday Morning. Got there too late to go to the canyon where I should have done so Inez and Thyrza went up and I had to wait five days later. Well, let me see, after we came from the canyon we went to dance in Lamberts hall, the Rockport people were there and De Malin asked me to go a sleigh ride with him the next Sunday. We went to Rockport and spent part of the day. Well in short I have been to quite a number of dances with De Malin and three theatres since I came from the canyon. I done something too, which many look to some as doing exactly to the contrary from what I have always said I would do, and that was to come home from a dance with any one with whom I did not go.
Well I think there are cases where this may be permitted. I went to a dance with Lizzie and the rest of the folks, there was oyster supper to Hugh Evans and I went there with De Malin. He asked me to dance the medley with him (now some may think that strange, but in a country town like this where you are well acquainted it is not) I was dancing a quadrille and Lizzie came and told me they were going home, I tried to get her to stay but she would not, so De asked me if he could walk home with me and I told him he could. Now was that very bad, besides I think if he had been in the place and had a chance he would asked me to go to the dance with him anyway, if it had been otherwise it would have been different. The folks seem to think it was all right so I don’t care much what other people think. Well when I write such things as this it sounds rather cranky to me but as I am writing in my Journal I guess it is allright to put in it what you do and anything you want to. Well I read in the Coalville times a day or two that he has gone to Murcur and I suppose that is the last of it but that don’t worry me any if it is for thank goodness I am not a fool yet and don’t expect to be for a few years yet. Now that sounds rather strange what I have first written but I understand how I feel now even if other people who, by some chance may ever read this, don’t, and I feel to-night and all the time in fact that I would be a fool if I let such things worry me this early in the day for what am I but a kid although I am nineteen years old. Some times I imagine I almost hate every boy that ever lived outside of the relatives but of course that is foolishness and there are many nice boys in the world yet, we have met many and hope to meet many more. I have no great fault to find with anyone I can think of at present and I like a good many people too. I said a time ago that it was bed time and it is more so now so good night. Orl is going to get up at four o’clock in the morning and I have got to get his breakfast.
May 14th 1898
It seems to me that almost every time I feel that a thing is going to turn out one way, it is sure to turn out the opposite, especially if I want it to turn out the way that I feel it is going to. Now instead of staying at Murcies or some other place equally as far away as he should have done, of course De Malin had to come home of course there was a dance here shortly after. He wrote to me asking for my company to the dance; (Apr. 14th). When a girl has gone with a boy a few times she hardly knows how to tell him “No” if she wants to ever so bad. That was my case and I went to a theatre and he came to see me two Sunday nights. I hardly like to offend him yet. I sometimes think that if he would give the chance I should like to do so very much, for try as I will a feeling of dislike for him keeps up with in me and it grows and grows until I don’t know hardly what words could express the feeling. His very name, is so hateful to me that when I write it there I is a strong desire within me to tare the leaf into fragments. This I suppose is very foolish, but, as I have said before, it was never my nature nor that of my chums to care over much for the boys. I believe that if I had never gone out with him, I could always have liked him as a friend but as it is I don’t know whether I will ever like him again or not. And oh! (I can hardly keep back the tears as I write it) the girls say that I am changed, I have grown more unlike the rest of them than they like to see, I am drifting away from them and don’t enjoy their company as I used to. Inez told me this the other night after we had returned from Religion Class. There was a bright clear moon and we had seated ourselves on the lumber to enjoy a good talk. She say they, Thyrza Janie & herself had talked of it, and they said they would tell me of it sometime. Said they did not blame me in any way, but they had all noted and commented on the change. Oh! what a feeling of lonliness and sadness came over me, for, although I noted a change in myself, not toward them but I don’t know how, I fancied that they had changed to and never dreamed that they imagined me in any way alienated from them. I cried, I could not help it. We had a long talk and I told her that if appearances should go against me that the change was not in my heart and I made a resolution there to return, or do all in my power to return back to my old free other self. I know what has made me change. It is having an escort almost every place I have gone since Christmas when the other girls have not. It is being separated from them and being compelled to go kind of by myself, that is not having them always to be with me.
I know the cause, next things is to remedy it and De Malin can go to thunder. I was to have gone to Henifer with him last week to a ball game and a dance, it stormed and he did not come for me, of course they did not have the ball game but I think it would have been a great deal more gentlemanly in him to have said something or made some excuse for not coming. Of course he is in Rockport but he could have written. I have not seen him since he asked me to go to Henifer and oh I hope, and I pray that he may never ask me to go any place with him again. Ben is on a mission to Virginia. We girls got a letter from him the other night.
June 27th 1898
I have succeeded in doing what I had a desire to do, I have made De Malin mad at me, and I am thankful for it too. He came up here the 29th of May and made excuses for not saying anything about not going to Henifer when they intended to. Wanted me to go with him then, for they were going next day. I told him just what I thought of him over that affair, and that I could not go with him. I was mad for I had attempted to escape him that day, and I kept getting more mad. He asked me if he could come up the next Sunday. I said—“Oh—I guess so,” in a way that implied just the opposite. That settled it and we had a regular set too, he said if his company was distasteful to me that he would not bother me any more. It old him it was very distasteful to me and I never had liked any thing of the sort and preferred the society of my girl associates as I had had it in the past to any one’s society I had met with yet. Of course lots of other things were said and he made a long speech (I have forgotten what) which ended with, “So its good by. I laughed at him and told him good afternoon. He didn’t answer me but walked to the door and was gone before I had time to say “scat.” I don’t know but that I would have said it though if I had happened to think of it.
I am very glad this job is through with for I have been dreading to write it for, it takes the flavor out of the other good things I am going to write. When I think of that affair it brings such a hateful, mean, disagreeable feeling, almost of loathing that I have striven very hard to banish it from my memory and, thank goodness have almost succeeded in doing so. Even so I draw a mark now to separate it from the pleasant things I am going to write. ———————————————————————————————————————————–
Lizzie and I took Mrs. Thomas’s horses and our new buggy that Pa has just purchased and went to Salt Lake after Pearl and Lizze Thomas as their school was out. We started Thursday morning, staid in there Friday and came home Saturday. It was rather lonely going in with just two girls and we almost held our breaths when we would pass crowds of men working on the railroad in Parleys canyon and they would smile and raise their hats to us and try to act smart, but we enjoyed ourselves just the same. Friday forenoon we did Co’s washing, went up town in the afternoon. Pearl and I went to Mrs. William’s, the place where Lizzie Thomas was staying. I met a person there that I had desired to see for some time because Nam, Pearl and others believe he is in love with Lizzie Thomas, and /I believe he is also. I liked him very much and could not help but feel a partiality in his favor but that may be because of my love of romance. I do love to meet and get acquainted with strangers, but would like it much better if I could only talk. Too much silence, I sometimes feel is my greatest failing, I wonder if I will ever overcome it. Pearl Lizzie and Co went home in the buggy and Lizzie Thomas and I staid up town intending to go down to Marves on the car, at ten o’clock. Went up town till dark then went back to William’s and ate supper. Left there at twenty minutes to ten and Helma Lumberg and Al Williams (I had forgotten to mention his name before) went with us to the car that was to take us to the Theatre corner from where we were to take the car to Marves. WE were just in time to see the car going without us we started to run in order to catch it and could have done so but Mr. Williams stoped us and would not let us run. I could not help but notice a smile of satisfaction on his face when we would wait ten minutes for the next car, for I felt a firm conviction that we would miss the nine o’clock car at the Theatre and think that he knew we would. Perhaps he wished to prolong his time with Lizzie. While we were waiting he and Lizzie went a short distance to a store to get some lunch for our journey home and Helma and I sat on the bank of the creek and talked. By and by the car came and Al said he would go to the Theatre with us in case we should miss our car. When we were within about ½ block from the corner the car stoped for quite a length of time and Lizzie proposed that we get off and walk the rest of the way and perhaps we would be in time for the car, but no, Al was going to ride the rest of the way. (I call him Al because that is the name by which all of us have been used to call him when talking among ourselves.) Of course the car was gone and we walked into a drug store to wait until the eleven o’clock car should arrive. Al excused himself and left us there alone but returned presently and told us to come on. We asked him where but he would not tell us so we went out with him and found that he had hired a livery stable rig to take us home in. Lizzie was quite vexed with him and told him so but he insisted that it was his fault that we missed the car. Oh how I did enjoy that ride spinning along over paved streets, under electric lights and every thing so new and strange. Just what I had longed for. When we reached Marves I told him this was the place but he appeared to be deaf, dumb and blind and drove steadily onward so I said no more. AT last Lizzie asked him if he hadent ought to turn up that street so he did but persisted in running by each road that lead to home, which occasioned quite a delay in having to turn around and get on the right road again, but we arrived there at last and after bidding him good bye entered the horse and went to bed.
Chunk and Parley took us to Oakley the next Sunday. They and Inez, Thryza Pearl, Nam and I went in uncle Johns buggy. Had a nice time. Chunk took us down to Woolstenhulme’s the other night. We were invited down to spend the evening. There were four strangers there, two Mr. Robinson’s and two Mr. Andrews. We spent the evening in singing, playing games, cutting up and eating ice cream. Deanie Dunford is here now. She and Thryza, Inez, Jean, and I , went a ride down to Okaley last night. IT is a very pretty place and Denie fell in love with it. We had already done so. Got home at one o’clock. Well Orl and Iva are going to be married next Thursday the 30th of June. We girls are going to play base ball with the Marion (Denmark) girls on the 4th of July, are busy every day practicing for it. Will have to tell more of coming events when they have become a thing of the past.
July 18th 1898.
Our base ball game did not come off, the Marvin girls failed to get their nine and we had to give it up at the last moment. The wedding was a success in every way, there was one hundred and one people partook of the super, 23 people came from bear River and Bountiful. We passed the Fourth in much the same manner that we usually do. Deanie Dunford is here, has been for about four weeks. (I believe I have mentioned her being here before.) The morning of the 5th fifteen of us started on an excursion to the mill. There were vie boys; Ben Mitchell, Parley, Fred, Horace Stevens and Tom; and ten girls; Lizzie, Lu, Nam, Pearl, Lynn Keeler, Lil Mitchell, Inez, Thyrza, Deannie & myself. We had a fine time, rode over awfully steep hills, horseback, and visited three lakes. I have mentioned two of these lakes before. They were just lovely. The largest one, as I discribed it before, has cliffs on one side and is surrounded on the others by pine trees. We found an old raft that the boys had built last summer, moored in the edge of the lake. We boarded this and went for a sail. When Horace Stevens, Nam, Thyrza & I were on it, Horace stood on one edge and tipped the raft, being old and rotten it could not stand the strain and came to pieces. Nan fell off into the lake, but succeeded in grasping the remains of the wreck and drwaing her-self onto it. The rest of us managed to cling to the logs and escaped being wet all over, we were wet nearly to the waist however, and after quite a drag Horace succeeded in getting the raft to the shore. We went behind the trees and rung our skirts while the boys built a fire and then we stood around it and dried ourselves. The last day we run out of provisions and were pretty hungry on our way home, so we stoped at the left hand fork, cooked a chicken that the boys had killed, bought bread, butter, cake and milk and had a dinner that tasted fine after our fast. Got home at dark. Edd Groosebeck and Le Dinwoodey are out here from Salt Lake. We have had a fine time since they came. Have been out very late for three and four nights handrunning. One night last Tuesday, after Y. L. meeting we met the crown on the street and started for the point. We reached there and started to climb the hill. Le & Chunk we leading and we climbed and climbed until we came to the top of the hill. There we built a bonfire out of sage brush and seated ourselves around it to enjoy the night. After a fruitless tease to get the crowd to go home, Nan suddenly took it into her head to go alone. If the boys had imagined that she would have gone they would not have let her go, but she went down the hill over rodes and through brushwood, reach the foot of the hill, waded Thorn Creek and after scrambling through fields and over fences reached home at on o’clock. Thyrza, Frank, Inez & myself tried again to get the boys to go home. They would not so we started off to-gether, Deannie said if she had thought that we would have gone she would have come with us. We reached home at ten minutes after two, Chunk and Denie, at ten minutes of three and Rob, Edd & Le did not get here till six o’clock in the morning. Day before yesterday night, Saturday, The crowd went for a horseback ride. We started for Oakley. Some of the crowd turned back when we got nearly to Denmark but Chunk & Deanie, Le Dinwoodey or Dinne of we call him, and I went on. Went to the grove at Oakley, had a short swing sat around for a few minutes and returned home. All the way down we were gassing Dinnie about being so quiet. We rode quite a distance ahead of Chunk and Deanie, as our horse was somewhat swifter than theirs. When we were riding along, Dinnie took me quite by surprise by opening the following conversation. But I must wait until later to relate the conversation as I will now have to go down stairs and help with the washing.
July 19th 1898.
Just as we were outside the fence that surrounds the grove on our return from Oakley Le Dinwoodey opened the conversation I have mentioned by saying
“Were you ever in Love?”
I answered—“Yes, lots of times, that is I have been in love with people on the state, that is with the characters, not with the people as they are off the stage.”
“Oh yes; but I mean with people around you, people you have been acquainted with.”
“No—I think not.”
“Well, now you know what makes me so quiet; don’t you?”
“Oh! Are you in love? Is that it.”
“Yes I am in love but I guess the girl will never know it.”
“Why don’t you write and tell her?”
“I wouldn’t have to write.”
“The wrost of it is, I don’t believe she cares for me, at least she won’t do anything I ask her to, now, she wouldn’t swing and she went off down the the pavilion. She wouldent even hug me to keep me warm.”
“She was ersel (??) wasn’t she?”
When we were at the grove it got a little bit chilly and Le said he never saw such funny girls as there are here in his life, they would let a fellow freeze to death. We told him that we had always heard people speak as though it was the boys place to keep the girls warm. We gassed like this for quite a few minutes. Deanie happened to make the remark that she wishes our seat had a back on it. Le said. “Lean on me.” Of course she would do no such thing. After a while when we were all seated in a row, Chunk said he was going to use me for a pillow and he leaned his head against my back. Deanie leaned over on him and as a matter of course, Le leaned on Deanie. Deanie said she had to fight with him to keep him fro holding her hands, he wanted to keep them warm. I think this was mostly Deanie’s fault for she had her arms around his neck. I couldn’t see any necessity for that, and though I am quite positive that she doesn’t mean any harm and that she would be just as disgusted with a soft person as any of us, yet she is what one would call an innocent flirt and she does some things that I don’t think I would do if I were placed in like circumstances. Well to continue our conversation after a few moments silence.
“I guess Denie will never know that I cared for her. She treats me so cool that I would never tell her. Now she wouldn’t lean on me to night when I asked her to and if she had cared any thing for me she would have done so.”
I became so ticked that I couldn’t help laughing and I thought I would have some fun gassing him. I thought he was gassing at first but he talked to me so seriously nearly all the way home that I don’t hardly know what to think of him. If he is in earnest, as I am inclined to think I pitty the poor little crank, but if he thought he was stuffing me, as I am also inclined to think he is off his bace and I don’t think he could tell by the way I talked to him whether Ib elieved him our not. I am certain he and Edd came out here with the intention of having lots of fun with the girls for the each brought a book with them. Co of Vanders, meaning Why do you wander, or some such name, I don’t know whether I spell it right or not. They have teased and teased Nan and Denie to read it to them. Nan must read it to Edd and Denie must reat it to Le, no other arrangement will do because two is company and Three is none. They must have planned this before leaving Salt Lake, also why would they have brought two books of the same kind. Le told me he had been trying to get Denie to read it to him. There is some love and romance in it he says and that is what he wants her to read for then she will know better how to act or how he feels or some thing. I don’t know exactly what. I don’t know myself what kind of a book it is, but it was just published a year ago. I should like greatly to read it. Edd and Le have gone to the cnayon for a few days now and have taken the books with them so that the girls could not read them while they are gone.
I will continue the conversation let see where did I leave off? Oh! After he said Denie would have leaned on him if she had cared for him I said,—
“You haven’t read many novels have you.”
“No, neither has Denie or she would know better how to treat me.”
Don’t you know that a girl would be lots more apt to lean on a person she did not care for than one she did? because she would not let that person know she cared for him for any thing in the world.
“Denie is not like that, she is a girl that will do whatever she wants to do. If she had wanted to lean on me she would have done so.”
“I don’t think so, though Denie does pretty much as she wants to I don’t think she would in a case like that.”
“I had hoped that Denie would go a ride with me but I didn’t dare to ask her.”
This was rather an odd position to be placed in, to be told plump and plain that your company was not appreciated, but I didn’t care the snap of my finger whether he wanted me with him or not and I let know it, I said—
If you had wanted Denie to go with you, why did you not get ahead of Chunk and ask her.
“She would not have gone with me if I had.”
“You don’t know, maybe she would.”
“Do you think Denie cares for anyone?”
“I don’t know. I heard her say once, though, that she was gone on three or four and all that worried her was that she would not get them all.”
“Heaven pit me then, for there is not much chance for me.”
“Do you think Chunk cares for Denie or is it kind of a cousinly love he feels for her?”
“Oh! I think it is just for the time being they will both get over it after a while.”
“You can be of aid to me in the future if you will.”
“Tell me how. I am willing to do all I can to help you in order to partly pay you for the trouble I have caused you to-night, to pay for treating you so badly.”
“Well then find out if you can what Denie thinks of me but don’t’ let her know that I told you to do so.”
“All right! I’ll be kind of a go-between is that right.”
“Yes, that is it, that’s what I would like you to be.” I have been trying all week to find some one to tell my troubles to. It does a person good when they are in trouble to confide in someone and have some one to talk to.”
“Yes it does Who are you going to confide in tomorrow night.”
“In no one. I have found someone now and am satisfied. You will not let her know what I told her will you? You will not betray my confidences.”
“No I will not mention it to anyone.”
At difference times on the way up, Chunk & Denie would catch up with us. Once Chunk asked us what we had been talking about now. I told him Le had just been telling me what made him so quiet. HE asked me what it was and after hesitating a second I said, “Oh he is sleepy.” I did it for meanness and I know Dinwoodey was on pins for fear I would tell them the real cause. After we got ahead again he said, “Don’t make a break like that again.” I told him that was not a break but I would not do it again.
When we reached home I told him I was much obliged to him for the ride, I had enjoyed it if he hadent. He said, oh he had enjoyed it and we would take another some time. So I could tell him what success I had had with the possessor of his heart I suppose. It was ten minutes after one when I got in the house. There were two bycicles on the poarch & I wondered whose they could be. I asked Ma and she told me Fay and and Mr. Jensen had come from Salt Lake. I was glad they had come for I have always liked Fay and the possibility of meeting a stranger was very welcome to me although I am such a crank nearly all the time when it comes to talking. They left at nine o’clock the next morning though for the canyon where they were to seem some other boys and they had to be back at Salt Lake at 8 o’clock Monday, so I didn’t get to see much of them. Mr. Jensen was dark, quite a good looking fellow, very pretty eyes and about twenty one or two years of age. The consequence of their leaving was that I had the blues all that day, as I always do when anyone leaves the town. Well that day I happened to drop a chance remark that I didn’t know hardley how to take Le Dinwoodey. The girls wanted to know why and I said, “He talked to me so curious last night.” That caused their curiosity and they teased and teased me until I let out what he had said about confiding in me. That night Thyrza & I were counting up the crowd and we said if we two would go away there would be just an equal number of girls and boys so we went together and walked in front of the crowd. She commenced to tease me and said it would not hurt to tell her for she would never tell. I began to think that by some remarks that Le made he did not seem to care who I told just so it did not get to Denie. I told Thrza that if I knew for sure that he was not trying to stiff me I would not tell her for anything. And if I had thought that he really did feel that he wanted to confide in me that I would not betray his confidence. I got to thinking that he was nothing but a kid and I almost a stranger to him and that that even if he was in love with Denie, as I really believe he is, he had just been talking to me for smartness or to make me think he felt that I was a good one to confide in, so I told Thyrza I would tell her and Inez but no one else. While I was telling her Nan came and commenced to tease me but I would not tell her. She said “Well I know what it is, for Edd has told me all about it. Dinnie is in love with Deanie.” Then she told us what Edd had told her and I told what Dinnie had told me. Then Parley came up and told us he knew what we were talking about. Non said if he would tell us what he knew she would tell him what we knew. I said “Nan you will do no such thing.” She said, “I will for Edd told me and he didn’t tell me not to tell, and I have a right to.” So she told him and we all talked about it together. All Parley seemed ot know was that by some of Dinnie’s remarks, he was in love with Denie. Now the ones that know it are Thyrza, Inez, Nan, Pearl, Lizzie and Parley. I am sorry I said anything about it now, still I don’t feel like I have done anything so very bad. I hope he don’t know I have told it though. I asked Denie how she liked him and have heard a number of her remarks. She says he would be soft if anyone would give him the chance. If he ever asks me about it I will tell him, I think Denie likes him as a friend and a person to make up a crowd and have fun with but I don’t believe he would go any farther in regard to her feelings toward him. The Sunday before Thyrza and I walked with him in the crowd and he came where we were seated in the new meetinghouse window and asked if he could sit between us. We talked about different things that night. He made a request to be called Le, Mr. Dinwoodey was so formal. He has since made the same request to others. That is why we do not call him Mr. Dinwoodey.
July 26th 1898.
Ed and Le came back here from their fishing trip last Tuesday the day I finished my last writing. They had lost their horses and came here to get others to hunt them on. They left again Wednesday morning as also did Jean and Deanie. The two later have gone to Salt Lake. Jean intends to stay quite a while. We got a letter form her last night. She seems to be having a good time. We also got a letter from Edith Keeler, poor girl she says she is getting more lonesome every day clear off down there in Mexico. The night before the boys and Jean and Deanie left we had another celebration. We gass Lizzie Fred and Lu telling them that we young folks are going out to celebrate and they can stay at home. WE have been out quite a bit lately without them and have had a better time than if they had been with us, not because we do not like their company but because they being much older than we, we naturally took to them to lead when we are with them. They will not get out and tare around like we do and we can have fund doing things that they would never think of doing. Ed & Le found their horses in the stray pond in Salt Lake and they returned here last Sunday the 24th, & are here now. Yesterday we celebrated the 24th of July. The Park boys and the Kamas boys played base all. The score was 24 to 28 in favor of Park. Bonds band from the Park played in the dance at night. There was an iminese crowd there. It seemed that almost half Park City was over. Had a fine time danced with Prof. Younger the dancing master, also other boys from Park. Mrs. & Miss Hanson from Park are here visiting with us. They have been here on week. There is going to be another dance to night, West will play.
I have written all this & still no word of the affairs of our Nation. The Spanish Nation has been for some time at war with the Island of Cuba. Cuba being close to the United States and fighting for independence from a nation whose oppressions they could no longer stand naturally called for aid from the U. S. Some of the suffering outrages from the Spain and the U.S. Battle ships, Maine is sent to the Havana harbor for their protection. The Spanish officials have it anchorage in the harbor over, as it was found, a submarine mine. On the night of the 15th of Feb 1898 the mine was twitched and the ship was blown up, and all on board were sent to an untimely grave in the bottom of Havana Harbor. This act of treachery on the part of the Spanish roused the deepest feelings of the American citizens and war against Spain was declared. Trolinkers were called and many of our own Utah boys are now marching under the Stars and stripes in battle array, some at Cuba, some at the Philippines Is. There has been many lives lost and 25 Spanish vessels have been sunk & one American. One land battle in Cuba resulted in the surrender of the eastern part of Cuba to the U.S. the battle was at Santiago. I would like to write more but space in this book will not permit so I will have to wait until I get another, but though I am neglectful I am deeply interested in the affairs of
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Edward Doty (c. 1598 – August 23, 1655) was a Mayflower passenger, a signer of the Mayflower Compact, and a permanent settler at the Plymouth colony. His surname sometimes appears as Doten or Dotey.
Doty’s ancestry is unknown. Statements that he was born in Shropshire, England, on May 14, 1598, or baptized on the same date in St. Mary le Strand, Thurburton Hills, Suffolk, England, are complete fabrications. While there are no fewer than eight authentic Edward Doty baptisms recorded between 1585 and 1605, it has not been possible to identify any of them with Edward Doty of the Mayflower.
Edward Doty was one of two indentured servants under Stephen Hopkins, the other one being Edward Leister, and as such accompanied Hopkins and his family aboard the Mayflower. On November 11, 1620, while the Mayflower was anchored off Cape Cod, 41 of the adult males, including servants, signed the Mayflower Compact; Doty and Leister were among the signers.
Doty was a member of the exploratory party, led by Myles Standish and including John Carver, William Bradford, Edward Winslow, John Tilley and his son Edward, John Howland, Richard Warren, Stephen Hopkins, and several crewmen from the Mayflower, that departed on December 6, 1620, in a shallop to search for a suitable site for settlement.
On June 18, 1621, Edward Doty and Edward Leister fought a duel with swords and daggers. One was wounded in the hand, and the other in the thigh. Both were publicly punished by having their ankles tied to their necks.
Edward Doty (my 10th great grandfather)
Eliza Doty (pioneer, died in Kamas)
Laura Craved, married Ward Eaton Pack
Laura Eleanor Pack, married John Wesely Blazzard
Ward Wesley Blazzard
Compiled by Heather Walker, 2007
You shall be blessed in the days of your probation notwithstanding your days of afflictions and in days of trial that are yet to come in your House.
–Patriarchal Blessing given to Henson Walker Jr. by Hyrum Smith, 1844
HENSON’S CONVERSION AND YEARS IN NAUVOO
Henson Walker Jr. was born in Manchester, Ontario County, New York on March 13, 1820 to Henson and Matilda Walker. He was raised in the Methodist faith, but was unsatisfied with his religion. In 1840, Henson eagerly read The Book of Mormon and was baptized in 1840.
His family did not follow him into his new religion. On August 24, 1841 he married Martha Ann Bouck, another convert to the church.
Martha’s family was also members of the church, so Henson and the Boucks moved to Nauvoo, Illinois, where Henson met and associated with the Prophet Joseph Smith. Henson worked to build up the church in Nauvoo.
In the spring of 1843, Henson’s first son, John, was born. Martha caught a fever and on August 12, 1843, she passed away. Henson moved into the Bouck home with his son.
On June 27, 1844 the Joseph Smith and his brother were martyred. Brigham Young became the next president of the church.
In 1846, Henson courted Elizabeth Foutz, and on April 10, 1846, they were sealed for time and eternity in the Nauvoo Temple.
Shortly after the marriage, Henson’s son, John, three years old, accidently drowned.
The saints were driven out of Nauvoo. In 1847, Henson was among the first company to start heading west to find a new settlement for the saints. He was recovering from a severe fever and left his wife, Elizabeth, extremely ill. Elizabeth stayed with the Bouck family and Henson knew that she was in good hands.
SALT LAKE VALLEY, 1847
On July 24, 1847, Brigham Young declared that the Salt Lake Valley was the new gathering place for the saints. After scouting the valley, Henson returned to the Sweetwater with other men to meet his family.
He left Elizabeth, his wife of only one year, sick with fever. He did not know how she had fared. He had already lost a wife and a son, so he must have been very anxious. When he arrived at the Sweetwater, he ran from one wagon to another desperately trying his wife or information about her. Finally, he came to the camp of Father Bouck and there he found his wife, alive and in much better health. She had been accompanied by her parents and the Boucks, having left in so bad of health that her family felt she would not survive.
A temple site was chosen, the people gave thanks, and they began to make valley a place suitable for habitation by farming and building houses.
Henson Walker first began farming in the area of Fort Douglas, where the University of Utah now is. In February 1849, Henson was among a group of men, led by Captain John Scott, who went down into Utah Valley to confront some Indians who had stolen cattle. A short battle ensued, and so the canyon where this was fought was named Battle Creek Canyon.
Henson also was involved in larger skirmishes in the Provo area, and had a part in preparing Utah Valley as a place to settle by driving off Indian fighters.
In one fight, Henson and his group has closed upon the Indians until they were almost in hand-to-hand combat. Henson was standing behind a large tree, and his foe was also behind a large tree. They kept firing at each other, and eventually the Indian stopped firing, though the only thing Henson would admit was that, “the Injun didn’t show up again.”
In 1850, Henson was called to build a ferry at the Platte River.
Battle Creek, the first name for Pleasant Grove, was first settled in 1850 by William Adams, Philo T. Farnsworth, and John Mercer. The name was soon changed to Pleasant Grove.
After returning from working on the ferry, Henson wanted to make a permanent home. In the spring of 1852 he moved to Pleasant Grove with his wife, Elizabeth, and their two children, Henson III, born in 1848, and Victoreen Elizabeth, born in 1850, along with Elizabeth’s mother, Margaret Mann Foutz, and her family.
In the beginning days of Pleasant Grove, there were two heads. George S. Clark looked after the temporal affairs and Henson Walker was called to look after the spiritual affairs. In 1853, George S. Clark went to Iron County and Henson Walker became the sole head of the ward.
Henson helped build the first school and church in Pleasant Grove in 1852. During the Walker Indian War, a fort was built in Pleasant Grove.
Henson married Sophronia Phylinda Clark on June 7, 1852, Mary Green on July 3, 1856, and Margaret Foutz on November 9, 1857. They all lived in Pleasant Grove.
In January of 1855, Pleasant Grove officially became an incorporated city. An election was held that May in which Henson Walker was elected Mayor. He served as Mayor until 1863, when he was called on a mission to Great Britain. After his mission, he served as Alderman and Councilman.
In addition to his mission to Great Britain, from 1863 to 1865, Henson served two missions to the Northern States.
Henson later served as a stake president of the Utah and Alpine Stakes. He died in 1904 on January 24.
(Information for above is from “Biography of Henson Walker Jr.” by Jennie Walker Johnson, found in the Henson Walker Family Record, edited by Floyd A. Walker, first printed by Transcript-Bulletin Publishing Company, Inc., Tooele City, Utah, 1958-1963. The record was later converted into PDF format. The quotes below are found from the same record, page numbers are indicated after the quote.)
Joseph Stanford Walker said, “To me Grandfather was a patriarch–he was always impressive. He was a tall man and broad shouldered too. Until he died when I was a boy of sixteen, even as an old man in his eighties, Grandfather didn’t lose his dignity, he was always an important person” (8).
Harold S. Walker spoke of him, “Until I was ten when Grandfather left us, I remember him always sitting on the stand – his flowing white beard and his cane. He was interested in what went on and his mouth sometimes was partly open.
“He was kind to us kids. He had a kindly way with people. He had sympathy and understanding for the down trodden and so called sinners. He was always friendly with the Indians and fed them many times.
“In whatever he did, he was enthusiastic. He had a good sense of humor. He was not gruff but he was definite and he made himself heard. When he was speaking in the bowery, he could be heard on Locust Avenue” (8).
Joseph Shipley Walker remarked, “I lived all my younger life with my family in part of the same home with Grandfather Henson and Grandmother Elizabeth. I was about sixteen when he passed away.
“I remember that to Grandfather, Church meant everything. His home was always open to the General Authorities of the Church. Their coming was never announced as is done in our day. Whenever they came to Pleasant Grove, or were going on to Provo or any of the other towns south, Henson’s home was the stopover place to eat and sleep. I have seen as many as twelve at a time. It was not uncommon for Grandmother to seat twenty persons at the table–visitors and family.
“Yes, Grandfather fed the Indians. The chiefs at the table and the others and the squaws the porch or the ground. They came to him and always received help” (8).
David B. Thorne said, “I remember Grandfather Henson as always being able to make himself heard when he was speaking in public. He never would have needed to use a microphone as we do today” (8).
Leonard S. Walker stated, “I was quite young but I remember Grandfather until I was eight years old when he died. He was a great admirer of fine horses. One time he came out to our place in Lindon bringing some of the Michigan relatives to see us. They were all interested to see our horses, too.
“My father, John Y. Walker, told us that when he was a boy it was his job to take care of the horses of the General Authorities when they came to Grandfather’ s home. Brigham Young then drove a team of beautiful black horses which were high steppers. More than once father managed to drive the blacks around an extra block in the process of getting them to the stables” (8).
Grace Walker Fielding wrote, “Two thoughts keep going through my mind regarding Great Grandfather Henson. One from Jeremiah 3:14: “And I will take you one of a city, and two of a family, and I will bring you to Zion.” The other, Matt. 7:20 “Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.” Because he gave up family and friends for his religion, that is the way he would want his ‘fruits’ to be known–True to the Faith” (8).
Dahlia Radmall Walker said, “My first recollection of Grandpa Henson Walker was at Sacrament Meeting s and Fourth and Twenty-Fourth of July celebrations. He was always seated on the stand in the Meeting-house or in the Bowery in the grove near the Meeting-house.
“He usually sat with his hands on the head of his cane—the Cane between his knees. His head covered with snowy hair, was thrown back and his mouth partly open. His black eyes were still piercing with a faint sparkle still there. A small cape was usually thrown over his shoulders.
“He was a frequent speaker on those occasions. He spoke fluently with somewhat the tone of the preachers he had heard in his youth and early manhood. One of his enthusiastic points was his belief and praise of the young people. A favorite expression was, ‘It gives me joy and satisfaction,’ and, I’m sure that went for any worthwhile thing he attempted in life.
“These excerpts following I remember from Mother Walker: He spoke feelingly of his wives and children, they met together often and Grandpa was his happiest on those occasions. He was truly a family man.
“He loved horses. He used to drive a horse called ‘Chirp’ on a cart when he came to Stringtown (now Lindon) to visit his sons and families. Chirp was a real stepper and Grandpa really enjoyed the taut reins and the brisk ride. Grandma seldom accompanied him, said, ‘I am not fond of Grandpa’s cart rides – there is nothing in a cart to hang on to and besides, Grandpa has no business driving a stepper like Chirp.’
“A young doctor, Haney M. Vance of Bement, Illinois, came west to practice and made Pleasant Grove his permanent home. He was proud to tell Grandpa Walker he was his first patient and what a fine old gent he was.
“We are justly proud of our Grandfather for the wonderful heritage he has left us. We honor and revere his memory; we wish we could have known him better” (9).
“It has been a great opportunity for Esther and I to edit, compile, and arrange the material for the Family Record of Henson Walker Jr. There has emerged from between the lines of the mass of genealogical data, histories and pictures some clear convictions as to the caliber of man our Great Grandfather Henson really was. Indeed, he was a tall man from where we stand and his shadow has lengthened considerably to us in the past several years as we have come to know more about him and we pay our humble tribute to his memory.
“There must have existed within Henson more than the youthful urge for adventure to cause him to leave behind his beloved parents, brothers and sisters and accept the new unpopular religion called ‘Mormonism.’ He had barely settled in Nauvoo with his new family when his wife, Martha Ann Bouck passed away. As if that was not enough to make his separation from his family complete, very soon thereafter his only child, John, was drowned.
“Henson, however, did not stand alone for long, far from it. He was living with Martha’s parents at the time and before too long he had met Elizabeth Foutz and soon after they were married. Even though it soon became apparent that Elizabeth was not very well, through the love and companionship of the Bouck’s and the Foutz’s, Henson had help and family. He had daily association with the Saints and even the Prophet Joseph Smith, himself.
“We have come to know Henson, to know him well. First of all, he held me on his knees as a babe. I’ve grown up as one of his posterity and lived among hundreds of his descendants. I’ve been in the homes of many of his relatives in Michigan and some of their descendants have visited us here in the west. Never can we forget their warmth, love and genuine goodness.
“We feel that there exists now a common bond, a kindred spirit between us – ancestors and descendants alike. As did the Pilgrim Fathers find another land and a new freedom, so did Henson with those early Pioneers bare-handed1y wrest from the wilderness a home and a new concept of religious liberty for himself, his family and descendants. We have really come to know him as we have embraced whole heartedly those hard earned freedoms and lofty ideals. He recognized in Mormonism the kingdom of God which was to be set up in the last days, quote: ‘And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed: and the kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand forever’ (Daniel 2:44). Indeed, that kingdom has been set up–strange as it may seem. It is the restored Gospel as proclaimed by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints with Jesus Christ at its head. Henson found that kingdom in so-called ‘Mormonism.’
“It seems that Henson was of a religious nature as he often preached in the Methodist services in his early life. That is significant when we consider the words of the Savior, ‘I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine.’ Also, ‘and when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him; for they know his voice.’ (John 10:14 & 4) To Latter Day Saints there is sufficient scripture and latter day revelation to prove there was a pre-existence. Mankind existed with God the Father, Jesus Christ and the Prophets before coining here into mortality. This means that we had opportunity to prepare for earth life there in the spirit world before we came here, to have our free agency and to learn right from wrong, to get a mortal body, and to engage in family life and thus become candidates for the Celestial Kingdom of God. We firmly believe that Henson was well prepared when he came here and that he knew the voice of the good shepherd early in life. Consequently he embraced the Gospel and became a leader in the Church of Jesus Christ.
“Without question the greatest contribution which Henson gave to his people was to bequeath unto them the way that they might find out for themselves the truth. They did not have to take his word for it. There is only one way under heaven how this can be done. It cannot be discovered, analyzed nor dissected scientifically for a group or for a whole society. It has to be done individually and in the way the Prophets of God have instructed. Essentially, that was and is to honestly, humbly, prayerfully seek to know the truth from God Himself. Say the scriptures, ‘Seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall opened unto you.’ (Matt. 7:7) Seek to ‘know the truth and the truth shall make you free.’ (John 8:32) Also, James wrote, ‘If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.’ (James 1:5-6) Literally seeking to know the mind and will of God, one soon discovers that there is a priceless key as a guide to find the truth. That is to enjoy the promptings of the Holy Ghost as written of by the Prophet Moroni in the Book of Mormon, ‘Behold I would exhort you that when ye shall read these things… I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Father, in the Eternal name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.’ (Moroni 10:3-5)
“In this manner Henson gained a burning testimony of Jesus the Christ, the Creator and Redeemer of mankind, the only Begotten of the Father. Jesus of a truth is a revelation of His Father. By coming to know Christ, we can come to truly know God. Knowing these things, Henson had a sincere desire to please Him, to keep His commandments, and to teach those truths to his loved ones and to all people.
“Henson has a large and wonderful posterity which is indeed his greatest monument. And the way of life which he helped to pioneer, even the Gospel of Jesus Christ, can bless, save and exalt his posterity and ancestors forever. In humility -we say he was and is a savior of his people. This is the reason why he had the courage to forsake all for the kingdom of God. To leave father, mother and family; and to help build up His kingdom wherever the Saints were assembled.
Yes, we know Henson and the knowing is good. We sincerely want our beloved people everywhere to know Henson as we have come to know him. Henson truly was a man of great stature; he literally walked, talked and lived with some of the Prophets of the living God.”
–Floyd and Esther Walker. (9-10)
“HENSON WALKER – HUNTER (PIONEER – MISSIONARY – LEADER)
“Henson Walker (Jr.) was a hunter and fisherman of wide experience. He grew up with his 7 brothers and 4 sisters on his father’s farm in Manchester, Ont. N.Y…. born Mar.13, 1820 to Matilda Arnell and Henson Walker (Sr.)…. In the spring of 1847, although just recovering from…fever (he) was called by Church Authorities to be one of the immortal band of pioneers. Along the route Henson’s skill in hunting and fishing proved invaluable. He stated years later that Wilford Woodruff was also an enthusiastic, fisherman and whenever camp was made near a stream, he too would leave the camp with a fishing pole over his shoulder, and nearly always returned with a sizeable string of fish . . . In 1863 he was called to carry the Gospel to the nations of the earth and while in Great Britain was president of the Scottish Mission. After his return to Utah he was again called to fill two missions to the Northern States. During his later years he served as (first) president of the High Priests of (Utah &) Alpine Stake (5). (He was first Mayor and Spiritual Leader (1) of Pleasant Grove).”—Extracts “Daughters of Utah Pioneers” Lesson May 1959 -.-.-Kate B. Carter. (10)
by Marlene Walker
My name is Jilleen, Jill for short. It’s supposed to be a combination of Jim and Marlene, my parents’ names. When I was 6, I lived at 1200 Fox Run, Florissant, Missouri. It was on the front corner of a bunch of new houses. We planted and fixed up the yard and one day, Daddy was cutting the grass and he ran right over a shrew. Yuck! I never saw one before and I never want to see one again.
One day when it rained, I stood and cried ‘cause I didn’t know where I lived, ‘cause all the houses looked the same. When I was outside, my boots were sucked right off my feet into the mud. Momma called me to see why I was just standing there. I went to my house in my muddy stocking feet. Momma made me go back and pull my red boots out of the mud and bring them in the house.
Daddy built a cyclone fence around our yard I thought I could catch the bunnies when I cornered them in the fence, but they went right through just like it wasn’t even there.
We didn’t have a cyclone, but we did have a tornado. Boy, you should see the stuff that was blowin’ around and it smelled like a sewer. Daddy went outside to see if our roof was still on.
I got to see a lightning strike hit the pole across the street and it kept flashing for the longest time. We were scared ‘cause it was so close.
You could look out the window of my house and see my school, De Smit. I was smarter than the other kids in my first grade class. Miss Skipper taught the class about the Navajo Indians, but she called it Nava-Joe, not Nava-ho. Miss Skipper said that I was impertinent when I told her that.
By my school there was a big church with bells. Momma said it was famous ‘cause it was on TV every Sunday. Some people just stayed home and watch. They didn’t go to church like we did.
We drove to church every Sunday and every Wednesday afternoon. When we went to primary on Wednesday, Momma took Patty Lewis and Melody King and Craig Moberly and David and Rickey Lowery.
I liked looking out the car window and seeing the pretty pink trees. Some had little flowers and others are so big. Momma calls the big flowers magnolias. Four-way stop signs were on every corner. We were afraid of them. If anyone was late to church, you could find them at the nearest four-way stop sign.
Sometimes, we got to go to the church house on Saturday, ‘cause the grownups stay up all night Friday night and make yummy bread that looks like it’s braided (but it’s just cut with scissors before it rises) and sticky, cinnamon bread. People liked it so much they came right to where it’s made, at the church. We don’t cut it, we just pull off a chunk and eat it. Any bread that was not eaten at the church was taken to Central Hardware then sold. It was gone all the time, I ‘member.
I loved to go to Central Hardware. Most everything was there. It was fun to walk up and down the isles to see all the fancy, new things.
My daddy loves me ‘cause he took me downtown to a big old factory called Switzer’s and bought me a whole yard of licorice. Some of the kids like red, but I like the black ‘cause you can lick it off your face and it lasts longer.
One day, Momma saw my little brother, Raymond, with chewing gum and asked him where he got it. She made him show her the chewing gum box that he took and hid by the ditch. Then she made him take it back and give it to the store manager. Raymond apologized and even paid for it. But he didn’t even get to blow a bubble. He says he’ll never steal anything again.
On laundry day, I got to help Momma put the wash away. The clothes didn’t really dry. I put them in my drawer damp, that means they are kinda wet. It was hot and sticky in St. Louis.
When I went on walks with Momma around the neighborhood, sometimes I got to push my little sister, Sharon, in her stroller.
Our neighborhood grandma, Grandma Haunie, came around every day to talk and tell us about our neighbors and give us some cake she called coffee cake, though it doesn’t have any coffee in it. It was so good! If I stand on my tippy toes, I’m just as tall as Grandma Haunie. She always asked us to get her some paregoric, whatever that was.
One year, Halloween came on Sunday. So we had a backyard wiener roast on Saturday. All the kids from the church and neighborhood came, like Jammie and Steven Oscarson and Jeff and Steve King from across the street.
Jeff King was really smart. He could tell you all about the Presidents of the United States. He spent so much time learning about them. I liked to learn, too. We spent a lot of time at his house.
I get to go to Girl Scouts too. We learned how to skate. It was fun!
One day, I heard mom and dad talking to Grant Rees, my uncle and my bishop. They said we were moving.
Raymond didn’t want to move to Utah. He said he wanted to stay so he could go to the only true church. He packed his suitcase and walked two miles to Ferguson, Missouri, where our church was. When he got there, nobody was there. Van Harpoole saw him and took him home.
We moved to Utah anyway. But it was okay. We found out that our church was in Pleasant Grove, Utah too.
I’ve had new fun adventures in Utah, but somedays I still think about our little house in Florissant, Missouri.
(Note: there may be some inaccuracies and a more current draft, but this is what I have.)
Life of John Pack
Frederick J. Pack (son through Mary Jane Walker)
October 22, 1937
(taken from “Temple Record and Life of John Pack microfilm #0000027)
John Pack, son of George Pack and Phylotte Green, was born in the town of Saint John, New Brunswick, May 20, 1809. Both of his parents came from American colonial stock, his father having been born in New Jersey and his mother in Rhode Island. On his fraternal side he is a descendant of one George Pack who lived at Elizabeth Town, New Jersey, at the beginning of the eighteenth century. The ancestral Greens, on the other hand, lived at East Greenwich, Rhode Island, and belonged to the same family as General Nathaniel Green of Revolutionary fame.
The removal of these two families from the United States to Canada was a direct outgrowth of the American Revolution. It is well know, of course, that the outbreak of this long and cruel war found not all of the Colonists antagonistic to the British rule. Indeed, very large numbers of them remained loyal to the parent government and actually took up arms in its defence. Many of the most ruthless battles of the entire war were fought between the colonists who remained loyal to the English government and those who sought to free themselves from it.
At the outbreak of hostilities many of the Loyalists preferred to migrate to Canada, rather than to remain and become embroiled in the conflict. At the close of the war, however, the exodus was even more pronounced, for after the Loyalists had fought and lost, their presence in the Colonies was scarcely tolerable. It is estimated that because of the reprisals that followed the war, fully three hundred thousand British sympathizers migrated to Canada.
According to family tradition George Pack, father of John Pack, was left an orphan at the age of about five years, and was “bound out” to a certain Stephen Kent, who, at the close of the war, moved to the Loyalist colony at Saint John, New Brunswick, and, of course, took the boy, then thirteen years of age, with him. It sounds almost like fiction to record that Rufus Green, father of Phylotte Green, also moved to Saint John, from East Greenwich, he too being a Tory.
At that time Saint John was scarcely more than a small settlement, having been established by the English some twenty years earlier. But with the arrival of Loyalists from the American colonies in 1783, it soon became a flourishing community and received a city charter two years later.
Saint John, now (1937) the largest city in New Brunswick is situated at the mouth of the Saint John River, on the shores of the Bay of Fandy, five hundred fifty miles north and slightly east from Boston. It has an excellent harbor, the elevation of which varies some thirty feet between high and low tides.
The Saint John River, the longest in New Brunswick, has its source in the highlands of northern Maine, and, after following a course of nearly four hundred miles through a heavily wooded region, enters the Bay of Fundy. It is navigable to smaller boats throughout the major part of its lower course. It is little wonder, therefore, that the early settlers turned to the fishing and lumbering industries. Agriculture was also locally developed.
George Pack and Phylotte Green were married at Saint John about 1790. They were parents to the following named children, all born at Saint John:
Margaret Pack born 1792 died 1836
George Pack born 1794 died 1887
Sarah Pack born 1790 died 1831
Nancy Pack born 1798 died – –
Phoebe Pack born 1800 died 1875
Rufus Pack born 1803 died 1869
Mary Pack born 1805 died 1875
Harriet Pack born 1807 died 1884
John Pack born 1809 died 1885
Caleb Pack born 1811 died 1839
Eleanor Pack born 1815 died – –
James Benjamin Pack born 1817 died 1884
The precise nature of the work in which George Pack and his family were engaged while at Saint John is not known. Some time after the birth of their last child, they returned to the United States, stopping first at Rutland, New York, and later at Hounsfield, three miles west of Watertown, where the family settled on a farm.
Watertown is situated in Jefferson County, New York, on the Black River, ten miles from its entrance into Black Bay, and arm of Lake Ontario. The river has a fall of more than a hundred feet within the city limits, and therefore lends itself to a variety of manufactures, which now line both of its banks for several miles. Paper an lumber mills are abundant. Watertown is also the center of a rich agricultural region. The country also ranks high in dairy products. Hounsfield is an attractive farming community, almost within the suburbs of Watertown. Here on a farm at Hounsfield George Pack and his family made their home.
On the tenth of October, 1832, John Pack, ninth child of George Pack and Phylotte Green, married Julia Ives, daughter of Erastus Ives and Lucy Paine Ives, at Watertown, New York. Later he purchased the homestead from his father, and as a part of the transaction assumed the responsibility of caring for his parents during the remaining years of their lives.
It was here that John Pack first became acquainted with the elders of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In the fall of 1835 he fitted out his parents–who had already joined the Church–and sent them to Kirtland, Ohio. On the eighth of March, 1835, he and his wife were baptized into the Church by Elder James Blakesly. At his home in Hounsfield, he first became acquainted with Joseph Smith, Sr; father of the Prophet, also with John Smith and Heber C. Kimball. In the early springtime of 1837, Father disposed of his farm at Hounsfield, and in April of the same year he and his wife moved to Kirtland, Ohio, where they first had the pleasure of seeing and becoming acquainted with the Prophet Joseph Smith. Father purchased a farm on the Chagrin River, not far from Kirtland. At this place he also began the construction of a saw mill, thus fulfilling a desire which he is thought to have entertained from his early youth at Saint John and possibly at Watertown.
Meantime his father and mother had the rare opportunity of being present at the dedication of the temple at Kirtland, March 27, 1836, and, in common with others, witnessed the marvelous spiritual manifestations which occurred at that time. In 1837, while meeting with the Saints in Kirtland temple, Father and Aunt Julia also experienced an abundant outpouring of the Spirt of God.
Following is a copy of a Patriarchal blessing received by John Pack in the Kirtland temple, July 22, 1837, under the hands of Joseph Smith, Sr; Patriarch of the Church, and father of the Prophet:
“Brother Pack, in the name of Jesus Christ the son of God, I lay my hands upon thy head and seal and confirm on the blessings that shall never be taken off. I pronounce on thy head a father’s blessing, that thee and thy seed may be blest and benefited. My hands are on thy head with thy father’s hands, and I promise this blessing in thy father’s name. Thou art called and chosen of God to do a great and mighty work on the earth in this generation. God has known thy blood from all eternity. Thou art of the blood of Israel, through the loins of Joseph the son of Jacob. Thou hast desired to do good, to be made an instrument in the hands of God of bringing souls into his Kingdom. The angels of heaven have been witnesses of the honesty and integrity of thy heart. They have rejoiced on account of thy faithfulness. The eyes of God are upon thee from time to time and from year to year. Thou shalt behold the great joy that shall rest on the Church of the Latter-day Saints. Then shalt behold a great salvation in Zion. Thou shalt see the redemption of Zion. Thou shalt have an inheritance in Zion, and thy children shall be blest and stand with thee. Thou shalt see the temple reared in Zion and clouds resting on it. Thou shalt behold thy Savior come in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. God will bless thee; they health shall be good; thy bodily and intellectual powers shall be strengthened. Thou must proclaim the gospel to this generation. God will give thee great power; thou mayest command the enemy to stand back. Thou shalt power over winds and waves, even tempests and raging fires; thou mayest turn rivers out of their course; thou mayest walk on the waters. Thou shalt have power over prisons; they shalt not hold thee; nothing shall hurt thee. Thou must be faithful. Thou art of the covenant blood of the Priesthood. Thou shalt belong to the holy ones. Thou shalt stand with the Lamb; thou shalt belong to the one hundred and forty-five thousand that shall stand with the lamb on Mount Zion; thou shalt sing the song. God will give the power and authority to preach to the spirits in prison. Thou shalt stand on a great planet nearest in the Celestial Worlds with the Priesthood and nothing shall take it from you. Thou shalt have power over treasures hid in the sand. Thou shalt have the treasures of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It is given thee on condition of keeping the commands and Word of Wisdom. I seal it on thy head. I seal thee up to eternal life. Amen.
“Brother Pack’s father, having his hand on his son’s head with the Patriarch while pronouncing the above blessing, confirmed it in these words: ‘My son, I seal and confirm on thy head all that has been spoken. Thou has a great work to do. Thou must lay hold of faith, and thou shalt be blest. The blessings of God shall rest on thy posterity.’” Joseph Pine, scribe and witness.
In common with other members of the Church, Father was not to remain long in Kirtland. In the springtime of 1838, under pressure of mob violence, he sold his farm at a great loss, and, with his family, including his parents, travelled by team to Missouri, a distance in excess of five hundred miles. They first went to Far West, then to Adam-ondi-Ahman, and finally to Grand River, where a farm of one hundred sixty acres was purchased, twenty miles from Far West and thirteen miles from Adam-ondi-Ahman. This was in Davies County.
Here he was joined by several of his brothers and other relatives. Aunt Julia records that they were present in Far West at the celebration of the fourth of July, 1838. She says that because of the laying of the corner stone of the temple on that day, the Saints had a time of great rejoicing. Sidney Rigdon was the principal speaker at the service, at the close of which the assembly shouted Hosanna, sang, and adjourned.
The Saints, however, were not to enjoy a long period of peace, for shortly after the first of September, mobs began to gather against the Mormon people. Many houses were burned and other acts of violence committed. Because of this, Father and his family moved into Far West, and a little later, when persecution was less violent, back to the farm. While at the latter place a company of immigrants brought word to Father that his brother-in-law, Levi Wood, had died at Huntsville, and that his wife, Phoebe Pack, Father’s sister was herself extremely sick. The nature of Father’s experience while going to his sister’s aid is well told in the words of Aunt Julia, as follows:
“My husband and I started the next day to go and look after them. Our first day’s journey took us within five miles of Grand River ferry. We slept all night at a mobber’s house. There was but one room in the house. The landlady made our bed on the floor. About the middle of the night the man of the house came home; he complained of being tired, stating that he had not had his boots off for several nights. He had been in the mob camp that had gathered against the Saints.
“We continued our journey the next morning, and had nearly reached the ferry when a company of about thirty armed men met us. About half of them passed by, when the head man wheeled about and rode up to our wagon. He inquired if we were Mormons. My husband told him we were. He then said we would have to go with him to their camp, and ordered us to wheel about. They took us five miles across a new rough road to their camp.
“The leader of their gang came up to our wagon and ordered my husband to follow them, saying, ‘We take you for a spy.’ He then said to me, ‘You can bid your husband goodbye; you will never see him again; you can go to that house.’ Pointing to a log house across a hollow. I told him I would not go one inch; if my husband died, I would die with him. Then I stepped my foot on the wagon wheel and was about to jump to the ground, when my husband took me by the hand and whispered, ‘Stay with the wagon and take care of the horse; I am not afraid. I will be back soon.’
“They took him through a patch of brush to an open place covered with grass. Sashail Woods told him, ‘Here will be your grave. We are going to kill you unless you deny Joseph Smith.’ My husband told him, ‘Joseph Smith was a prophet of God; you profess to be a preacher of the Gospel; so do I, and I will meet you at the day of judgement.’
“There were five or six in the immediate party. They talked with one another as to who should shoot him, but no one really seemed to be willing to do it. Finally one of the men standing by our wagon called to the others, ‘Let that damned Mormon go.’ Soon they came back with him and ordered him into the wagon, saying that if we were ever seen in that country again, it would be at the peril of our lives. They sent the same company back with us to the ferry that took us. They saw us across the river, and we went to our sister at Huntsville.
“We found her very sick. She was completely salivated with calomel, and near death. We stayed for two weeks and did all we could for her. Then we put a bed in our wagon and placed her upon it, together with her six-month old child. We left her three older children at Huntsville at the home of a Mormon family by the name of Amos Herick. We started on our journey home, and eventually got as far as Carlton, a small town forty miles from our home. At a shop in this town were several of the mob that took us prisoners. They knew us and said, “There are the ones we took prisoners; let us go for Sashael Woods.’ A man jumped onto a horse and went full speed for some place.
“We went a short distance through a piece of timber. We then left the road and started for home across the prairie. In that country the ground is very sick; in times of storm the water cuts deep narrow gullies. During the night we came to two or three such places. My husband would unhitch the horse and get it over the gulley; then he would draw the wagon across by hand, it being a light wagon, something like the delivery wagons we have nowadays. We reached our home shortly after day light and found my husband’s brother, Rufus Pack, there with chills and fever.”
This was in the latter part of September, 1838, when Father was twenty-nine and Aunt Julia twenty-three.
A few days later George Pack, John Pack’s father, became seriously ill and died shortly thereafter. Although he was only sixty-eight years of age and a comparatively robust man, yet he was unable to endure the hardships heaped upon him by the enemies of the Church. He was a martyr at the hands of the mobs. The day following his death his body was taken to Far West, and, after a short funeral service was buried at that place.
Father and his family returned to their home on the farm that evening and stayed up all night loading whatever of their belongings they could into the wagons. The next morning they had their home goodbye and started for Far West. All this was done under the constant menace of a mob.
Shortly after reaching Far West, Father bought some logs and hurriedly made them into a one-room house. He chinked the cracks with wood, and without further preparation immediately occupied it as a dwelling. Aunt Julia describes its position as the “last house out of Far West toward Goose Creek.”
Twenty persons lived in this poorly lighted and poorly heated room during the greater part of the following winter. It is impossible to imagine the suffering that they experienced, especially in view of the fact that the mob was almost continuously hounding them. Aunt Julia says that two members of the mob, acting as guards, stood in front of their humble home for weeks.
About this time Father aided William Bosley–who married his sister Eleanor–to escape from some Missourians who were seeking him on a false charge of murder, said to have been committed at the so-called battle of Crooked River. This occasioned Father’s absence from his family for nearly two weeks. Aunt Julia relates that while Father was away the family supply of flour became exhausted, and that by means of a spring pole and mortar they pounded corn with which to make bread. They also ground wheat in a hand mill for the same purpose.
The extremes to which the Saints were driven is well illustrated by the following incident. It will be recalled that twenty people were living in Father’s one-room house Among these was Rufus Pack’s wife, about to become a mother. While Father was absent with William Bosley, she became ill. Aunt Julia obtained permission to move her into a small one-room building which Parley P. Pratt had constructed as a stable, and in which his own wife lay sick with a child. Sister Pack’s bed was placed in a small space at the foot of Sister Pratt’s bed, and she was lying in pain upon it when Elder Pratt was brought into the house, under guard, to bid his wife goodbye before he was taken to prison.
Shortly after this, Father and other of the brethren were forced to sign a paper, at the point of a bayonet, relinquishing all right to their property for the purpose of paying the expense of the Missourians, incident to their driving the Saints from the state. According to the same enforced understanding, the Saints agreed to leave Missouri before the first of April, 1839, or subject themselves to extermination. During the short respite that followed, Father and his family moved to Log Creek, probably into more commodious quarters, and remained there until the eighth of February, 1839, when they joined the general exodus of the Church from Missouri to Illinois.
In this connection the following document is particularly interesting, signed January 29,1839, at Far West Missouri:
“We whose names are hereunder written do each for ourselves individually hereby covenant to stand by and assist each other, to the utmost of our abilities, in removing from this state, in compliance with the authority of the state; and we do hereby acknowledge ourselves firmly bound to the extent of our available property, to be disposed of by committee who shall be appointed for that purpose, for providing means for removing of the poor and destitute, who shall be considered worthy, from this country, till there shall be not one left who desires to remove from the state: With this provision, that no individual shall be deprived of the right or the disposal of his own property for the above purpose, or of having control of it, or so much of it as shall be necessary for the removing of his own family, and be entitled to the overplus, after the work is effected; and furthermore, said committee shall give receipts for all property, and an account of the expenditure of the same.” Signed by John Pack and 213 others.
The distance from Far West to the Mississippi River, along the route traveled by the fleeing Saints, is in excess of two hundred miles. In February of 1839 the weather was severely cold, and the roads were muddy and otherwise in bad condition. Scores of the Saints died from exposure and fatigue. Father and his family crossed the river at Atlas, some forty miles below Quincy. A little later they settled on a farm four miles west of the town of Perry, Pike County, sixty miles south-east of Nauvoo. This was in the early springtime of 1839.
Here, according to Father’s record, “I was compelled to labor with my hands most of the time to support my family, in consequence of having been robbed of my property by the mobs in Missouri; but in course of the year, I took a mission to the southern part of the state (Illinois).”
In the springtime of 1840, Father moved from Pike County to Nauvoo, where he became an active preacher of the Gospel, performing several short-term missions in Illinois and adjacent states. Later he filled a mission in the state of Maine and another in New Jersey. While at Nauvoo, Father and Aunt Julia became intimately acquainted with both Joseph and Hyrum, and listened to their teachings on numerous occasions.
On the 16th of December, 1840, Governor Carlin, of Illinois, signed a bill authorizing the incorporation of the Illinois, signed a bill authorizing the incorporation of the city of Nauvoo, also the formation of an independent military group to be known as the Nauvoo Legion, the officers of which were to be commissioned by the Governor of the state. Subsequently, when the organization was effected, John Pack was commissioned a Major.
After numerous futile attempts to have Joseph Smith returned to Missouri, to answer various charges made against him, Governor Reynolds of that state issued an extradition for the return of the Prophet June 13, 1843. Governor Ford of Illinois, already unfriendly to the Mormon people, hurriedly issued a warrant for his arrest. The Prophet, at the time was visiting with relatives in Lee County, some two hundred miles north of Nauvoo. Two sheriffs, Reynolds and Wilson, promptly placed him under arrest, and immediately started away with him, meantime treating him with utmost cruelty. Their purpose was to carry him back to Missouri, where he would fall into the hands of his former enemies.
Hyrum Smith, at Nauvoo, upon hearing what had been done, called for a group of volunteers to go to the rescue of the Prophet, and if possible to frustrate the unlawful scheme of those who held him in custody. John Pack immediately responded and rode off at the head of twenty-four horsemen, who were determined to protect their leader at any and all costs. Meantime the officials of Lee County, at the instigation of Stephen Markham, issued a warrant against Reynolds and Wilson on the ground of their having threatened the life of the Prophet, also on the ground of false imprisonment. Reynolds and Wilson thus became the prisoners of Sheriff Campbell of Lee County.
The Prophet and his associates were determined that he should appear before an Illinois tribunal; whereas Reynolds and Wilson did everything within their power to take him to the party and left no doubt in the minds of the Missourians that they would not be permitted to carry their nefarious scheme into effect. A little later Joseph appeared before a court in Nauvoo and was acquitted.
In August of 1843, John Pack and Julia Ives were sealed for time and all eternity by Hyrum Smith, the Patriarch, at Nauvoo Illinois. When the Nauvoo Temple was nearing completion, this sealing was repeated in that building, December 16, 1845, Heber C. Kimball officiating, John Young and A. M. Lyman were witnesses. At the same time they also received their endowments. Father and Aunt Julia later became temple workers.
At the time of the Prophet’s martyrdom, June 27, 1844, Father was doing missionary work in the state of New Jersey. Immediately upon receipt of the news, he and his companion, Ezra T. Benson, returned to Nauvoo and joined the sorrowing Saints. Aunt Julia relates that after the bodies of Joseph and Hyrum were brought to Nauvoo, she saw them in the Nauvoo Mansion, were thousands gazed upon them in silent grief.
A few month’s after Father’s return to Nauvoo, the Eighth Quorum of Seventy was organized by President Brigham Young, and Father was made its Senior President, October 8, 1844, having been ordained a Seventy October 6, 1844. Following are the names of the Presidency: John Pack, Samuel B. Frost, Benjamin Wilber, Alston Colby, Benjamin Clapp, Ebenizer Robinson, and William Hyde.
In 1845, upon advice of President Young, Father rented the Nauvoo Mansion and he and Aunt Julia kept tavern there for six months. The President then counselled Father to purchase the Lomis Tavern, to prevent the rendevousing there of the enemies of the Church. He kept this place until shortly before the eighth of February, 1846, the time of his final departure from Nauvoo.
Ward E. Pack, Father’s oldest son, who well-remembered the circumstance, later wrote that Father’s home in Nauvoo was “a hewn log house situated on a five acre piece of land about one-half mile between Mulholland and Parley streets, and one-half mile east of the Temple.”
As soon as the Prophet was slain, it became apparent that the Saints would be forced to abandon Nauvoo. Yet in the face of this widely recognized fact, they industriously completed the temple and dedicated it to the service of the Lord. This had scarcely been done, when under orders of the mob, they left practically everything that they owned and moved out into the wilderness. The exodus from Nauvoo began on the fourth of February and continued for several weeks until the city was practically depopulated of our people. I shall let Father speak for himself. Under date of February 8, 1846; he says:
“I took leave of my comfortable dwelling and crossed the Mississippi River, and took my shelter with my family and the Saints in the open air on Sugar Creek, where we were exposed to the cold storms of the winter. The cold was so great while we were there encamped, that the river froze sufficiently for loaded teams to cross on the ice. But notwithstanding there were several thousand souls in camp for three weeks, not a single death occurred, neither was there much sickness.”
At this time Aunt Julia’s youngest child was only four months old. The courage expressed in the foregoing statement is emphasized by the words of the historian Bancroft, as follows: “There is no parallel in the world’s history to this migration from Nauvoo. The exodus from Egypt was from a heathen land, a land of idolator to a fertile region designated by the Lord for his chosen people, the land of Canaan. The Pilgrim’s fathers in fleeing to America came from a people making few pretentions to civil or religious liberty. It was from these same people who fled from old-world persecutions that they might enjoy the liberty of conscience in the wilds of America, from their descendants and associates, that other of their descendants, who claimed the right to differ from them in opinion and practise were now fleeing.”
Principally because of the demands of their enemies at Nauvoo, the Mormon people decided to leave Sugar Creek as early as possible. Accordingly, on the first of March, 1836, after a temporary organization was effected, the company again moved forward, largely as a single body of five hundred wagons or more. But because of the inclemency of the weather, the poorness of the roads, and the insufficiency of teams, movement was extremely slow. Father says, “The snow and rain were so severe, and the mud so deep, that we made but little progress.”
Slightly later in the journey, near the Charitan River, a more systematic organization was formed. The entire company was divided into two grand divisions, over one of which Brigham Young had command, and over the other which Stephen Markham was captain, who in turn was under the command of Heber C. Kimball.
From Father’s official record of this memorable organization, I learn that the individuals belonging his family and present with him were as follows:
John Pack born Saint John May 20, 1809
Julia Pack (wife) born Watertown, New York March 8, 1817
Ward E. Pack (child) born Watertown, New York April 17, 1834
Lucy Pack (child) born Kirtland, Ohio June 24, 1837
George C. Pack (child) born Nauvoo, Illinois November 6, 1841
John Pack, Jr. (child) born Nauvoo, Illinois October 5, 1843
Julia Pack (child) born Nauvoo, Illinois October 5, 1845
Ruth Moshier Pack (wife) born Prescott, Canada April 12, 1821
Nana Booth Pack (wife) born Brown County, Ohio April 11, 1826
Eliza Jaine Graham Pack(wife) born Providence, PA Nov. 6, 1825
Phylotte Green (mother) born East Greenwick, RI May 20, 1774
It will thus be seen that John Pack’s family consisted of himself, his four wives, Julia, Ruth, Nancy, and Eliza Jane, his five children, and his mother, Phylotte Green, making a total of eleven. Three of the ten outfits in the company belonged to Father – a carriage drawn by two horses and driven by himself and two wagons each drawn by six oxen and driven by William H. Forseythe and George Hickenloper.
Relative to the founding of Garden Grove, one hundred and forty five miles west of Nauvoo, Father says, “The last of April we arrived at Garden Grove, on the west fork of the Grand River, where the whole company planted a large field and left a few Saints to raise the grain for the Saints that came after.” In addition to planting the grain, bridges were constructed, wells were dug, and houses were built. It is said that within a few days the three-hundred fifty-nine men, thus engaged, constructed a village, like magic in the wilderness.
A short distance farther on, near the middle fork of the Grand River, the advance company built another resting place for the oncoming Saints, called Mount Pisgah. Such places were necessary because the Saints were now traveling through an unsettled country, belonging chiefly to the Indians. Concerning his trip from Garden Grove to Mount Pisgah, Father makes the following brief comment: “We then took a northwest course over hills and valleys for days but travelled only about forty five miles; the country being very rough. Our cattle had become very numerous and made a beautiful appearance as the crossed over the hills and reached for a great distance. We came to the middle fort of Grand River where we made another settlement and called the place Mount Pisgah. The camp remained here for two weeks.”
Although Father’s record contains the statement: “from this place (Mount Pisgah) we pursued our journey for the mountains and arrived at Cutler’s Park, Nebraska, the first of August,” yet there is proof to the effect that he came to the river more than a month before this time, for he recorded the minutes of a meeting held at Council Bluffs, June 30, 1836, when Heber C. Kimball announced his intention of crossing to the west side of the river and establishing an outpost from which the journey across the plains could be started. There is similar reason for believing that he was present at meetings held at the same place July 3, 15, 16, and 19. It is not unprobable, therefore that he first came to Council Bluffs with one of the advance companies, and, after completing the work required of him in this connection, returned to his oncoming party and arrived with them at Cutler’s Park, August first, in harmony with his above statement.
Cutler’s Park was to become a place of sorrow for Father and Aunt Julia, for here on the thirteenth of August, 1846, they buried their little daughter, Julia, less than a year old, who had been unable to survive the hardships of the six month’s journey from Nauvoo westward. She was truly a martyr to the cause of truth. They placed her lovely little body in a “burying ground nearby.” The sadness that filled the parents’ hearts was necessarily soon suppressed, for two days later, on “the first day of September, the camp moved down the river and called the place Winter Quarters.”
Before th government made its call for the Mormon Battalion, plans had been laid by the brethren to send an advance company of picked men to the mountains immediately after reaching the Missouri River in 1846, when their numbers were thus decimated, it was decided to go into “Winter Quarters” and make ready for an early start the next year. Accordingly, as soon as this conclusion was reached, construction work on a large scale was begun at Winter Quarters.
Orson F. Whitney is authority for the statement that the place soon “consisted of seven hundred houses of log, turf, and other primitive materials, neatly arranged and laid with streets and byways, with workshops, mills, etc; and a tabernacle of worship in the midst; the whole arising from a pretty plateau overlooking the river, and well fortified breakwork stockade, and block-houses, after the fashion of the frontier.” It is well known of course that Florence, Nebraska, five miles above the city of Omaha, now (1937) occupies the former site of Winter Quarters.
The nature of the abode occupied by Father and his family during the winter 1846-47 is not known. At best it was extremely primitive, and even so it was doubtless cherry and comfortable compared with the open camps of the past several months. The winter was not spent in idleness, quite to the contrary, for already preparations were being made for an early start to the mountains next year, and Father had been selected to join the advance party. During the daylight hours , the natural quietness of the region was continuously disturbed by the music of the saw, the axe, and the anvil; while at nighttime the people danced and sang or sat around their firesides talking little of the yesterday but more of the morrow. Much of the time during this winter Father was teaming between Winter Quarters and Saint Joseph, Missouri, in order to sustain his family and to make preparation for the unprecedented trip ahead.
Finally the day for the company’s departure arrived, April 5, 1847. On this day Heber C. Kimball with six wagons moved out as far as Cutler’s Park, which had been designated as a place of assemblage for the pioneer company. April 6th, the general conference of the Church was held at Winter Quarters, and on the following day a considerable number of brethren joined the waiting vanguard. After some delay, occasioned chiefly by President Young’s return to Winter Quarters, the twelve miles of the Elkhorn River and forty-seven miles west of Winter Quarters, April 15, 1847.
There on the 16th of April the pioneer camp was organized as follows: Captains of hundreds, Stephen Markham and Albert P. Rockwood; captains of fifties, Addison Everett, Tarlton Lewis, James Case, John Pack, and Shadrack Roundy. Also a large number of captains of tens. The companies were instructed to travel closely together, rather than scattered as before. In the company there were 143 men and boys, three women, and two children, total 148. There were 72 wagons, 93 horses, 52 mules, 66 oxen, 19 cows, 17 dogs, and chickens.
At five o’clock in the afternoon of April 17th the camps were called together and a military organization was created as follows: Brigham Young, Lieutenant General; Stephen Markham, Colonel; John Pack, Major; and Shadrack Roundy, Major. The next day the start for the mountains was begun in real earnest. The military organization was chiefly for protection against Indians and outlaws.
Concerning the events just mentioned, Father gives us the following brief statement: “Here (Winter Quarters) we stayed through the winter. The leaders of the camp deemed it necessary to raise a camp of pioneers to search out the route to Salt Lake Valley in the mountains. A company of about one hundred fifty men was raised for the purpose. The company was led by the Twelve, Brigham Young, and Heber C. Kimball. Company was organized in military form, and I was appointed Major or Lieutenant Colonel over Brigham Young’s division. We started the eighteenth day of April 1847.” A very retiring statement of a truly prodigious undertaking!
Aunt Julia, who remained behind at Winter Quarters, has left the following brief statement: “In the spring of 1847 my husband was called to be one of the pioneers to the Rocky Mountains. The pioneers were led by the Twelve, Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball. They organized in a military organization, the officers were as follows: Brigham Young, Lieutenant General; Jesse C. Little, Adjutant; Steven Markham, Colonel; John Pack and Shadrack Roundy, Majors. They started on their journey the first part of April, 1847.”
It is interesting to observe that one fails to find a single complaining note in what Aunt Julia says, and yet she was to be the sole support of herself and her children in her husband’s absence, and that too at a time when her own health was not the best. Aunt Julia proved herself heroic to the end of her days.
I have no direct information concerning the nature of the outfit which Father brought. From a notation made by William Clayton, however, it appears that the wagon was drawn by horses instead of oxen, for he describes somewhat graphically the manner in which certain horse-drawn vehicles were helped across a sandy stream one hundred thirty miles west of Winter Quarters, and names Father among those who were given assistance. Moreover, I have found a notation to the effect that when Father was about to return to Winter Quarters in August “his horses being worn out by the journey to the valley, he procured two yoke of cattle from Mr. Crow.” In later years, at least, Father was an excellent horseman, and prided himself in possessing only the best.
Sunday, April 25, Father with others was selected to hunt buffalo as the company proceeded. On May first, opposite Grand Island, Nebraska, the brethren saw their first buffalo, a herd of more than a hundred. Father and the others went out to shoot one, or more, if possible. The chase lasted for three hours and was full of thrilling excitement. Finally Father was successful in killing a mighty bull, which fell almost at his feet. The total number killed is placed at one bull, three cows, and six calves – a number far in excess of expectations. Thereafter buffalo were seen with increasing frequency. Later someone made the statement, “Truly the Lord’s cattle on a thousand hills are numerous.”
On Sunday, May 20, while encamped at a point about fifteen miles east of Fort Laramie, in what is now eastern Wyoming, the brethren bore testimony of the goodness of God to them and partook of the sacrament in renewal of their covenants. Later in the same day the members of a prayer circle met in an opening within the nearby cliffs, and, after dressing themselves in their temple clothing, offered prayer to God for themselves, for their families, and for all that pertained unto them. The names of this council are given as follows: Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, Willard Richards, Orson Pratt, George A. Smith, Wilford Woodruff, Arnosa Lyman, Ezra T. Benson, Phineas H. Young, John Pack, Charles Shumway, Shadrack Roundy, Albert P. Rockwood, Erastus Snow, William Clayton, Albert Carrington, and Porter Rockwell. The two brethren last named had no temple clothing, and stood on guard to prevent interruption.
At the upper crossing of the Platte River, near what is now Casper, Wyoming, difficulty was encountered in getting the wagons across the river. It was springtime, June 14th, and the water was high and swift. The contents of the wagons were taken across in a boat, and most of the wagons on an improvised raft. A few of the wagons were tied together side by side and pulled across by means of a rope. This was the case with Father’s wagon, but when it and the one lashed to it reached the far side, they rolled over one another, breaking the bows and losing tire-iron from Father’s wagon to the value of thirty dollars. It is still somewhere in the old river bed. Interesting if it could be found!
Monday, June 21, Father and the pioneer company passed the famous Independence Rock, which for many years had been an outstanding landmark to all western travelers. Sunday, June 27, three years after the martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum, the company camped near South Pass, the dividing line between the Pacific and the Atlantic drainage. The brethren’s minds doubtless reverted to serious matters on that day.
On the twelfth of July, 1847, President Young was taken sick on Bear River, not far from the present site of Evanston, Wyoming. This necessarily delayed the party and caused much anxiety, since the planting season was already well advanced. On the 18th, the main company had passed through Echo Canyon and reached the Weber River; President Young and a small company of eight or ten wagons were somewhat behind. On this date President Kimball, who was now in charge, proposed that on the following day the company move forward and proceed through to the valley without further delay.
Exploration had already been made of Weber Canyon below this point and found impassible. Accordingly, the company decided to turn to the left at the present site of Henefer and follow the trail travelled by the Donner Party of the year before. At this point Heber C. Kimball and a few others went ahead, and Father was left in charge of the main company, which he directed the entire distance through East Canyon, over Big and Little Mountains, and into the head of Emigration Canyon.
Father relates that when he and a few of his associates obtained their first view of the valley from the summit of Big Mountain, pandemonium broke loose. Strong men embraced one another and cried as if they were children. Others shouted at the tops of their voices and hurrahed to those who were approaching. He says that Porter Rockwell – characteristically stolid and unemotional – was so effected by the sight that he even removed the boots from his feet and repeatedly hurled them into the air.
Early in the morning of July 22nd, Father in company with Orson Pratt, George A. Smith, John Brown, Joseph Mathews, O. P. Rockwell, Erastus Snow, and J. C. Little went forward on horseback from their camp in upper Emigration Canyon to seek out a suitable place for planting crops and beginning their settlement. After entering the valley, Father and at least part of his companions discovered the Warm Springs, Beck’s Hot Springs, and continued possibly five miles even farther to the northward. Later in the day, the combined party decided upon a location near the mouth of City Creek Canyon, within a fraction of a mile from the place where great Salt Lake Temple now stands. Thus Father became one of the founders of Salt Lake City, Thursday, July 22nd, 1847, its location having been actually selected by him and his seven companions.
Toward evening of the same day, July 22, the main company which Father had left in the upper part of Emigration Canyon, entered the valley, and camped somewhat south of the present site of Salt Lake City. At a meeting held that evening Father and Joseph Mathews were chosen to return and inform President Young of what had been done. Accordingly, the next morning, July 23, he and Joseph Mathews returned as far as Birch Springs, in Mountain Dell, where President Young was to camp for the night. Here they told him that the advance company of eight men had entered the valley, partially explored it, and had made a choice of the site where crops should be planted. Late in the evening, Father and his companion returned to the valley, and encamped with their brethren at a point well within the present business center of Salt Lake City.
Early in the morning of July 24th, Father and a few others returned to Emigration Canyon for the purpose of strengthening a few bridges and otherwise assisting the President’s party in entering the valley. Shortly before noon of that day, July 24, the wagons of President Young and those who had remained behind with him rumbled through the mouth of the canyon and out onto the more regular bench land below. From this place the President obtained his first comprehensive view of the valley, and immediately endorsed the work done by the advance company, by declaring, “This is the Place.” Within about an hour he reached the encampment at the present site of Salt Lake City, where, because of the lateness of the season, plowing , preparatory to planting, was already well underway.
It is only proper to note that when Father came into the valley with President Young on the twenty-fourth of July, he had already entered it on two previous occasions once on the twenty-second of July, and once on the twenty-third.
Orson Pratt and Erastus Snow entered the valley on the twenty-first of July; Father and his companions came in somewhat before noon of the twenty-second; the main company also arrived in late afternoon of the twenty-second; and President Young reached it shortly after noon of the twenty-fourth. It was later agreed that the twenty-fourth should be adopted as the day to be kept in commemoration of the Pioneers’ arrival.
The precise route travelled by the pioneers from the mouth of Emigration Canyon to the encampment site on City Creek is not known, but if it is assumed that the course was essentially straight, it necessarily passed within a few rods of my present residence at Fifth South and Thirteenth East streets. I like to think of Father–then a robust man of thirty-eight–as riding across the exact sport where my home now stands, strong, determined, resolute–yet weary from his journey and long exposure, but undaunted and unafraid. My modern well-kept home, surrounded by lawns and trees and flowers, forms a bold contrast with the scanty brush at the side of the newly formed trail of now ninety years ago. Three years ago I chose the site and superintended the drilling of a well at the south end of the University Campus, and discovered sufficient water to convert nearly a hundred acres of this barren desert into a veritable garden. It is scarcely possible that even in his most enthusiastic moments Father could have foreseen such a development.
And yet withal, the Salt Lake Valley was far more inviting then much of the country through which the Pioneers had passed. The soil was of first quality and water was comparatively abundant in the nearby streams. Moreover, the Pioneers did not know the meaning of the term failure, and therefore they immediately set about to convert the barren desert into fertile fields.
July twenty-fifth was Sunday, the day of rest, and therefore no work or exploration was done. At ten in the morning, a meeting was held within an opening formed by encircling wagons, and various of the brethren expressed themselves in praise of God’s goodness to them. At two o’clock in the afternoon a sacrament meeting was held at the same place; John Pack is listed as one of the speakers, although it appears that Orson Pratt delivered the principal sermon. We are sometimes prone to associate excellent meetings with temples and luxurious churches, but it is doubtful that greater sincerity and devotion were ever shown by human beings than was shown by the Mormon Pioneers that Sunday afternoon when they sat amid their road-scarred wagons in the heat of a sweltering July sun.
The following day, Monday, all were busy again. The precise nature of the work performed by Father during the next three weeks does not appear to be of record. Within that period however, much was done; the country was explored as far west as Great Salt Lake, as far south as Utah Valley, and as far north as Cache Valley. The temple site was decided upon, and the city was laid out in ten-acre squares. Roads were constructed into nearby canyons, and logs were obtained for use in the construction of the “Old Fort.” A bowery made of poles and willows, for religious purposes, and of sufficient size to accommodate the entire Pioneer band, was built in the south-western part the temple block. A large acreage of ground was also plowed and planted.
In the meantime preparation was going forward for the return of a considerable number of the brethren to Winter Quarters, where many of them were being awaited by their wives and other members of their families. John Pack was a member of this party. The company, consisting of seventy-one men, with thirty-three wagons, ninety-two oxen and some horses and mules, left the valley August 16, 1847. Those who had horses to ride were assigned the especial duty of repairing the road, driving the loose cattle, and selecting camp sites. Father was the proud possessor of a valuable riding horse and therefore took his position in this group. He was also the owner of a wagon and two yoke of oxen in the company. For him the journey homeward was lightened by at least two impulses which he did not possess on his way westward, namely, the reward of having reached the Promised Land and the ecstatic joy of returning to his family.
On the twenty-second of August, the returning company travelled a distance of eighteen miles between Sulphur Springs and Muddy Fork in what is now xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
thousand miles away, Father’s wife Julia, gave birth to her fourth son, later to be known as Don Carlos.
I have seen the Muddy River in the vicinity of where Father camped that night– sluggish meandering stream scarcely two rods wide, flanked with bunch grass and grease wood, and I have pictured Father by the side of a smouldering campfire thinking of wife and home. Likewise I have thought of Aunt Julia in a humble hut on the banks of the great Missouri, she too performing her equally important part in the work of God. In this connection it is interesting to state that this same Don C. Pack died only six years ago in his eighty-fourth year, and I was honored with an invitation to speak at his funeral service. He was buried in a little cometary at Marion, three miles north of Kamas.
An exciting incident occurred when the returning company reached South Pass. That morning, August twenty-ninth, a small group forged ahead of the main company, hoping to reach the Sweetwater before nightfall. At the Pass the advance wagons were quickly surrounded by a group of Indians, who had come to trade, but whose purpose was misunderstood by the main company behind. Upon seeing what he regarded as the perilous condition of the vanguard, Father hurriedly rode back to the rear wagons and solicited help for those ahead. But the fear created by the supposedly hostile Indians was so intense that only one person, Norman Taylor, volunteered to return with Father to the rescue of those apparently in distress. Later when the real intention of the Indians was learned, all of the wagons moved forward and trading became general, principally hides and furs for powder and balls.
Incidentally, it was through this same pass that the first wagons to enter the Great Basin were brought by Captain Bonneville just fifteen years earlier.
On the Sweetwater, September third, Father met Joseph B. Noble and Jedediah M. Grant travelling west. The former was doing well, but the latter had lost a child the night before, and his wife was seriously sick–she died a few days later before reaching the valley. Many years later I personally knew Brother Noble. He was very proud of his acquaintance with the Prophet, and never lost an opportunity to testify concerning him. Brother Gant was my wife’s grandfather. In 1846 Brother Grant and his family had travelled in the same company with Father from Nauvoo westward through Iowa.
It was the habit of the oxen, while enroute, to feed much of the night, and therefore at dawn were often many miles from where they were unyoked the night before. It appears to have been one of Father’s duties to ride out in the morning and bring in the oxen, preparatory to the day’s trip. On numerous occasions they are reported to have been found as much as four or five miles from camp. On the morning of September seventh after the company had spent a stormy and fireless night at Willow Spring, twenty miles beyond Independence Rock, it was discovered that all of the cattle were missing. Father set out on foot to find them, and after following their tracks seven or more miles do the road toward the Platte River, in the face of a blinding rain and snow, he returned to the camp and advised that oxen be temporarily borrowed from another contingent which had just arrived. This was done and the journey resumed. After the company had travelled thirteen miles, the missing animals were sighted four miles to the left of the road at the base of a cliff. Father and Jackson Redding rode out and brought the cattle in, which were soon yoked to the wagons and the company moved forward in its usual manner.
When this company left the valley, it was evident to everyone that the food supply possessed by the Saints would be none too plentiful for those who remained, and therefore only such amounts were brought away as would be actually needed for the trip. William Clayton places the individual allowance at eight pounds of flour, nine pounds of meal, and a few beans– surely a meager supply for what was to become a nine week’s journey: The trip had been scarcely half completed when the breadstuff was gone, and thereafter the brethren were forced to rely almost wholly upon fresh meat for their sustenance. This condition occassioned no little alarm, and at times seriously disturbed the regularity with which the company proceeded.
During the later part of the journey, the brethren were also greatly annoyed by the xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx sign they came directly into the camp and forcibly stole a horse tied to one of the wagons, and drove off four of the unyoked oxen. They also made away with a valuable knife belonging to Father. From this time forward constant vigilance was necessary.
Eventually, when Winter Quarters was only a short distance ahead, Father was delayed because of an accident to his wagon. In crossing the Elkhorn he encountered a deep current with a muddy bottom, and the tongue of the wagon was broken. It may be– no one can tell– that he failed to exercise his usual caution. But if he did, Who can wonder at it? He had been away from his family for nearly seven months, and during that time had received very little word from them. The wagon, however, was soon repaired and within a short time he was in the presence of his family. This was the latter part of October, 1847.
And what a greeting: There were the noble women who had waited and toiled and prayed in his absence. Aunt Julia held in her arms a child, Don Carlos, who was born while the father was away, and by her side stood four small children, the eldest a lad of thirteen. And there too was his devoted mother, proud of her son’s accomplishments and of his faithfulness to the cause of God. No king could have been more genuinely welcomed, and none more delighted to be home.
On the twenty-fifth of October, 1847, only a few days after his arrival at Winter Quarters, Father preached to the Saints at that place and gave a description of Salt Lake Valley as a future gathering place for the people of the Lord.
Early in the year 1848, Father, with his family, moved from Winter Quarters across the Missouri River to Pigeon Creek and established himself on a small farm, thinking that it would be impossible for him to go back to the valley this year. But being counselled by President Young to go, he made almost super human efforts to provide himself and his large family with provisions and transportation. Accordingly on the first of April, 1848, he and his family bade Winter Quarters goodbye and went into camp on the Elkhorn River, at which place the company had been instructed to assemble, preparatory to leaving for the West in the early part of June. At this place Father was made a Captain in President Heber C. Kimball’s company, with a total of six hundred sixty-two souls and two hundred twenty-six wagons.
The composition of this company was vastly different from that of the pioneer company of the preceding year. The present one contained men and their families, together with chattels and other personal belongings. The earlier company was bound on a mission of exploration and discovery. The present one was going for settlement. On the first trip, Father carried with him principally farm tools and seed, sufficient for him to make a quick dash into the unknown country, plant some crops, and return. But at present he was taking his family with him, with no thought of coming back.
At this time Father’s family consisted of himself, his wife Julia and five children, Ward, Lucy, George, John, and Don, his wives Ruth and Nancy, and his mother Phylotte Green Pack, a total of then ten. His mother was seventy-four years of age, and his youngest child, Don, was only eight months. Considering the size of his family, it scarcely seems possible that Father could have made the trip with fewer three or four wagons. Concerning this, however, we have no records.
At the Elkhorn River, an Indian shot one of Father’s oxen, which for a time seriously threatened his progress. With characteristic resourcefulness, however, Father decided to use one of his cows. He was about to place the yoke on it when a stray ox came in from somewhere and walked directly into the place of the cow. Father yoked it with the other ox and drove it to Salt Lake Valley. Later, when its long hair wore off, the government brand “U.S;” was plainly visible on its side. It is believed that the animal had been turned out on the plains to die, and that I had not only survived the winter but had regained its normal weight. At any rate it was regarded by Father and his family as almost a gift from heaven.
By this time Father was a hunter of experience and skill. Aunt Julia says, “One time while hunting he came upon a herd of buffalo. Like the hunter he was, he shot a veal. Being a long way from the train, he could not carry a larger animal. When the drove heard the shot and saw the mad horse, they stampeded and Mr. Pack proceeded to the veal he had wounded. It lowed for its mother and the drove returned. Before Mr. Pack could get away, the buffalo unhorsed him, and he had to lie flat in a narrow wash to save his life. Finally after pawing dirt all over him, and no doubt thinking him dead, the animals left. In the excitement his horse ran away and never returned.”
The caravan was too large and cumbersome to move rapidly, and accordingly did not reach the valley until late in September, 1848, being on the road nearly six months, which was considerably longer than that of the original company of the preceding year.
Either at this time or a year earlier, Father obtained his homesite at the southwest corner of West Temple and First North Streets, which he retained until the time of his death in 1885. Here he camped, and “being advised by President Young, he got out timber from the canyons and built an adobe house thirty by sixty feet, in the Seventeenth Ward of Salt Lake City, to be used as a place for dancing and other amusements.” The larger part of the winter of 1848-49 was doubtless used in its construction.
According to the historian Bancroft, in December of 1848 two companies of hunters were formed for the purpose of exterminating wild animals in the vicinity of Salt Lake City. One of the companies was headed by John Pack and one by John D. Lee. There was of total of eighty-four men. They were very successful as shown by the large number of creatures they killed, to wit: “2 bears, 783 wolves, 409 foxes, 2 wildcats, 2 xolvermes, 31 minks, 9 eagles, 530 magpies, owls, and hawks, and 1026 raven (crows).”
Some time in the year 1849 the first store in Salt Lake City was housed in one of the rooms of Father’s residence. The store was owned by Livingston and Kindead, and had a stock of general merchandise valued at twenty thousand dollars. In my youth the lock and key used on the door of the store were in our granary at West Bountiful. In size, the lock was about eight by ten by two inches. The key was fully five inches long and heavy in proportion to its length. What became of the lock and key I do not know.
Early in the springtime of 1849, Father moved with a part of his family to Farmington where he plowed a considerable acreage and planted it to corn. He protected it from the ravages of crickets by surrounding it with a broad ditch filled with water. He was thus successful in raising a fairly good crop.
Some time in the late summer or early autumn of 1849, Father made entry of an eighty-acre tract of land in West Bountiful, ten miles north of Salt Lake City. Some time later, after government patent was received, Father deeded half of the tract to others, retaining forty acres for himself, which remained in his possession until the time of his death, when it became the property of his two wives Jane and Jessie. At the time it was located, it was regarded by many people as of very little value since it was partially swamp land and largely overgrown by willows. Today it is one of the choicest sections of garden land in the entire state. In the following pages it will be referred to as the farm at Bountiful.
At the October Conference, 1849, only a year after Father and his family reached the valley, he was called by the authorities of the Church to carry the Gospel to the people of France in connection with John Taylor and Curtis E. Bolton.
One can scarcely imagine the faith and fortitude necessary to accept a call under such conditions. During the short time that Father had been in the valley he had devoted himself entirely to the building of a house and the harvesting of a crop but he had accumulated nothing whatsoever with which to make the prospective trip. Moreover, his wives would have to support themselves in his absence, since his oldest son, Ward, was only fifteen years of age. Then too both Aunt Julia and Aunt Nancy had a child only a few months old, and Aunt Ruth was about to become a mother. Only women of perfect Christian fortitude would be willing to join in such a sacrifice. Nevertheless on the nineteenth of October, 1849, two weeks after his call, Father surrendered his family to the care of the Master and departed for this distant field of labor.
In the same party with father, John Taylor, and Curtis C. (E.?) Bolton were Erastus Snow, bound for Denmark, Lorenzo Snow, for Italy, Franklin G. Richards for Great Britain, besides a number of other brethren, both for Europe and the eastern part of the United States. Since these were the first elders to be sent out by the Church since coming to the Rocky Mountains, the event of their departure is of more than ordinary historic value.
The company, consisting of some thirty men, had a very disagreeable journey across the plains, due principally to the inclemency of the weather and the unfriendliness of the Indians. At noontime of the second day beyond Fort Laramie, according to Aunt Julia, the travellers were “surprised to see dashing upon them from the hills a large company of Sioux Indians, bent apparently on their destruction, for they came at furious speed, bows in hand with their arrows upon the string. The men of the company were drawn up in line of defence. It was then that Mr. Pack realized the fulfillment of the saying, “Thou mayest command thy enemies’ words uttered by Joseph Smith, Sr. When pronouncing a blessing on Mr. Pack’s head in the temple at Kirtland. When commanded, the Indians stopped. A parley ensued, a compromise was effected, and the company passed on without further trouble.” B. H. Roberts, who later wrote the Life of John Taylor considers this incident as merely a friendly prank on the part of the Indians, intended to frighten the travellers, but Father himself who was a participant in the affair did not so regard it.
The remaining part of the journey to the Missouri River was uneventful. At Kanesville, Iowa, however, the party was received with marked demonstrations of delight. Guns were fired at their arrival, and entertainments were prepared for their enjoyment. From Kanesville, Father and several of the brethren went on to Saint Louis, where they remained for a short time exhorting the Saints to righteousness, who at that place numbered upward of three thousand.
The brethren then went to New York, from which port they set sail in the Westervelt, an excellent vessel of fifteen hundred tons burden. They arrived at Liverpool May 27, 1850. After a brief respite in England, the brethren reached Boulogne, France, June 18, exactly eight months from the time they left Salt Lake City. The company at this time consisted of John Taylor, Curtis E. Bolton, John Pack, and William Howell, from Wales, who had already done missionary work in the Jersey Islands and along the west coast of France.
After the brethren had xxxxxxx themselves in simple quarters at No. 15 Rue de lempe Boulogne, they called upon the Mayor of the city and obtained permission to preach the gospel to the people of his city. At nightfall of June 28th, the brethren when down to the sea shore where in the protection of the shadows, they thanked God for their safe voyage, they dedicated themselves to the cause for which they had left their homes, and prayed for wisdom in the great labor before them. Later, after securing a hall in which to present their message, the wrote articles for the various newspapers, and otherwise attempted to attract the people to their meetings.
On the fourth of July, 1850, the brethren received a letter from three local preachers, challenging them to debate on various aspects of the Mormon religion. In course of time satisfactory terms were agreed upon and the debate began. John Taylor was appointed to lead the discussion for the Mormon elders.
“Our honorable opponents have seen proper to speak evil of Joseph Smith. I was acquainted with him almost from the beginning of his religious career, and I speak that which I know, and not my opinion. I know that Joseph Smith’s character was good–as good as any man’s. Those statements made about him are false. Joseph Smith was a just, honorable, and upright man, and I know it. Neither do I know any evil of him. I know that he was persecuted for his religion, as the Saints have always been persecuted. I know that religous men have generally been at the head of these persecutions. I have seen the Saints persecuted when blood has stained their paths. I am not afraid to testify that the mob was headed by reverend divines.
“I was once taken by a mob myself. I was travelling with my wife about eighty miles from home, in the state of Missouri. They came to me and stopped my carriage, and asked me if I was a Mormon. I told them, “Yes, I am a full-blooded Mormon!” They dragged me from my wife into a wood, and told my wife to take a last farewell of me. Sashiel Woods, a Baptist or Presbyterian minister, headed this company; he was their leader. He asked me if I would forsake the Mormons and deny Mormonism. I told him, no, I would not! I knew it was true and I would not give up my faith. The condemned me to death. Sashiel Woods then took ten men and led me into the woods to shoot me, but no one could be found to do it. They quarreled among themselves and after sometime I was liberated.”
“These things that I have spoken of are true; I bear my testimony to them before God and man. I know Joseph Smith was a good virtuous, honorable man. As Mr. Taylor has offered to do, so do I. Bring forth your officers and I will make oath to it.”
He was asked by Mr. Robertson, one of the preachers, if he ever saw Joseph Smith work a miracle, to which he replied, “I have seen some lying at the point of death, given up by physicians. I have seen them healed immediately after Joseph Smith had laid his hands on them, and rise from their beds and go forth.”
After remaining in Boulogne for some time, Father went to Calais, where he had the good fortune to baptize three or four converts. At this place he received a letter from John Taylor inviting him to come to Paris and be present at the organization of a branch of the Church at that place. He accepted the invitation and was present when the organization was effected, December 8, 1850. He returned to Calais on the tenth of December or the same year.
On the fifteenth of December, Father wrote a letter to Elder Franklin D. Richards in London, requesting him to thank the Saints of England for furnishing the means by which he and his associates were sustained in their missionary labors.
On the thirteenth of May, 1851, Father was in London to attend a general conference, and stayed at the home of a brother Bray. He and Curtis E. Bolton spent the day of June fourth visiting famous places in that great city. At a conference held at the home of Brother Bray, June 6, 1851, Father was selected to preside over the Saints residing in Jersey Island and contiguous parts of France. Because of the large number of Saints in Jersey and their willingness to assist the elders financially in their labors, Father requested to hold himself in readiness to send help to the missionaries in France in case they should need it.
In compliance with his new appointment, Father reached Saint Helier, the chief city of Jersey Island, June 22, 1851. At that time my mother, Mary Jane Walker, a young woman of sixteen was a member of the Saint Helier branch, having been baptized at that place by Elder William Ballen, December 20,1847. Father soon became acquainted with the Walker family and thereafter was a frequent visitor at their home.
The Saints of Saint Helier held a pretentious celebration on Pioneer Day, July 24, 1851. John Pack was the presiding officer. From personal experience he doubtless painted a vivid picture of what occurred on that famous day four years earlier in the far distant valleys of the Rocky Mountains.
Some idea of the success that accompanied the efforts of the elders in Jersey may be gained from the following brief statement, which is extracted from a letter written by Father to William Hyde, and dated at Number 2 La Motte Street, Isle of Jersey, August 1, 1851: “The work of God is rolling on here with great rapidity. We are baptizing some almost every day, and all the saints are bound for Zion as soon as time and means will permit.”
In response to a deep and prolonged religious impression, Father went to Havre, France, on the second of November, 1851, where he met Curtis E. Bolton, who had been similarly impressed to go to the same place. They baptized a number of people and experienced remarkable spiritual manifestations. It was a time of great rejoicing. Father returned to Saint Helier the next day.
Nothing more is known of Father’s activities until the tenth of January 1852, when he and a company of nineteen Saints from Saint Helier boarded the sailing vessel Kennebec at Liverpool bound for New Orleans. Father had been honorably released from a three year’s mission and was on his way home. The Saint Helier company consisted of eight males and twelve females. My mother, Mary Jane Walker, was one of the party. The entire company including the Saints from Saint Helier and others principally from England, was under the direction of Elder John S. Higbee and consisted of three hundred thirty-three souls.
The sailing vessel was slow, very slow, and the voyage was uneventful, except for a two week’s calm encountered in mid-ocean, when the ship is believed to have actually drifted backward. Eventually, two long months at sea, the Kennebec hove into the harbor at New Orleans, March 11, 1852. From here the Saints were carried by another boat to Saint Louis and thence by smaller craft to Council Bluffs.
Considerable delay was experienced both at Saint Louis and Council Bluffs, and it was not until May 27, 1852, that organization of the overland company was under the general direction of Ezra T. Benson. John S. Higbee who had been in charge of the party from Europe was a captain of fifty of which John Pack was a member.
The first day was consumed in crossing the river. The noise, the bustle, the lowing of cattle were all familiar to John Pack, for this was the third time he had gone through the same experience, but to the newcomers from across the sea it was all new.
At a point somewhat more than a hundred miles west of Winter Quarters, a military organization was effected, chiefly as a matter of defence against the Indians, and John Pack was elected Colonel. Thereafter he usually travelled slightly in advance of the main company and kept this position until all danger was passed, when he quickened his speed and arrived in the valley nearly a week ahead of the main company. He gave a report of his three-years’ mission to France at a meeting held in the Tabernacle at Salt Lake City, August 8, 1852. The main company reached the city five days later, August 13. The journey from Liverpool to Salt Lake City had consumed seven months. Father had been away from home three years lacking two months.
The reunion between Father and his family was a joyous occasion. He had been away from home among a generally hostile people, and had endured even greater hardship. They were in a new country, they were far from centers of civilization, and they had been under the necessity of wresting their meager living from an unfriendly soil. God had been good to Father in his absence, also to his family, and now they all rejoiced to be together.
The following statement made by Aunt Julia is indicative of her sterling, uncomplaining worth: “There were twelve of us in the family. We worked hard and supported ourselves in his absence. Our family consisted of my husband’s mother, myself and my six children, Nancy Boothe and one child, and Ruth Moshier and one child. These women are my husband’s wives and their two children. My son Ward was our main stay. We raised our bread, fought crickets, and went through all the hardships in common with our brethren and sisters. The Lord blessed us and gave us comfort under all of our hardships. We made most of our clothing, took wool on shares, bought a loom, learned to weave and make our own cloth, and were comfortably dressed.”
It is doubtful that any women in the world would be willing to undergo greater hardship than this, that the word of God might be carried to the people of foreign lands.
A matter of much historic interest occurred in Father’s absence. On the twenty-eighth of February, 1850, some four months after his departure for France, the legislature of the provisional government passed a bill providing for the incorporation of the University of Deseret. The measure was almost immediately signed by Governor Young, who then appointed a board of regents with Orson Spencer as chancellor.
In the autumn of that year, the first sessions of the University were held in the Pack home, at the southwest corner of West Temple and First North streets. It will be recalled that at the suggestion of President Young, Father had built a room in his house sufficiently large for entertainments. The house faced the east, with two large rooms in the front and several smaller ones in the rear. The northeasterly front room was the one in which the University held its first sessions. It is thought that about thirty students were in attendance, with Professor Orson Spencer, A. M. And Dr. Cyrus Collins as Instructors. “Terms for the quarter were eight dollars, half to be paid in advance.” The whole matter forms a bold contrast with the same institution today, with its four thousand students, two hundred instructors, and annual fees per student considerably in excess of one hundred dollars.
The University continued to meet in Father’s house until February 17, 1851, when it moved to the basement of the old Council House located at the southwest corner of Main and South Temple streets.
The fact that the first sessions of the University were held in my Father’s home is especially interesting to me, since I am one of its graduates, and have connected with it as a professor for now thirty years.
When Father left for France in October of 1849, his real estate holdings consisted of the one-and-one-fourth-acre lot in Salt Lake City and his forty acre farm in West Bountiful. The latter had been only recently located and was wholly uncultivated. His family was under the necessity of obtaining a livelihood largely from these two sources.
Accordingly, early the next spring following Father’s departure, a few acres of the farm at Bountiful were plowed and planted. The plowing was done with six oxen; Aunt Julia drove one yoke, her daughter Lucy one, and her son George one. Ward held the plow. At this time Lucy was thirteen, George was ten, and ward was sixteen. During succeeding years the cultivated acreage was gradually increased, so that in 1852, the year of Father’s return, the farm produced seven hundred fifty bushels of wheat, two hundred fifty bushels of oats, one hundred fifty bushels of corn, and “plenty of vegetables.” Little wonder that Father expressed himself as highly gratified with what had been done!
It should be recorded, too, that while Father was away one of his horses died, but was quickly replaced by another as a gift from President Heber C. Kimball. Father and Brother Kimball were staunch friends from the time they first met at Hounsfield to the end of their lives.
On the fifteenth of September, 1852, five weeks after Father’s return from France, he and Mary Jane Walker, my mother, were married at the office of the President of the Church, at Salt Lake City. President Heber C. Kimball officiated. Just when their period of courtship began I do not know. They met first at Saint Helier, Jersey Island, when he became the president of that mission. Thereafter for six or seven months they met at frequent intervals in church capacity. Then beginning in January of 1852, they were almost continuously together during the seven months’ trip from Liverpool to Salt Lake City. Their regard for each other, resulting in matrimony, was probably maturing throughout this entire period.
Nancy Boothe, Father’s second wife, died at Salt Lake City, August 14, 1853, one year after Father’s return from France. She left two small children, Sarah Amelia, age four years, and Adelbert Beaumont age three months. She was born in Brown County, Indiana, April 11, 1826, and was married to Father in the Nauvoo Temple, January 6, 1846, by Heber C. Kimball. They buried her in the family plot in the city cemetery at Salt Lake City.
At the April conference of 1855, Father was called to the Salmon River mission at Limhi, Idaho. I have never known the precise object of his visit. At that time a colony of Saints established at Limhi were having much trouble with the Indians, and the project was abandoned two years later. Mother accompanied Father on this trip. They left Salt Lake City in April of 1855, and returned in September of the same year. The trip was made by horse team and covered a distance somewhat in excess of one thousand miles. Mother has told me that the trip was a very pleasant one. It was made in the third year after her marriage, and was regarded by her as a kind of honeymoon.
Again, at the April conference of 1856, Father was called to assist in the settlement of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Settlement had begun at Carson Valley as early as 1850, and for the following five or six years the population was dominantly Mormon. Chiefly due to the growing opinion that the Carson Valley country might be ceded to California or become an independent territory, a rather general return to Salt Lake City began as early as 1856, and became general in 1857 when it was learned that Johnston’s Army was approaching the Utah settlements. Father left Carson Valley for Salt Lake City, July 3, 1856 and reached there July 22, having made the trip in nineteen days. From somewhat meager information, it appears that the route led around the north end of Great Salt Lake.
While Father was crossing the great alkaline flats of the Humbolt River, his horses became exhausted. His companions had gone ahead, and he was left alone in one of the most desolate and dangerous regions of Western America. He knelt by the side of his wagon and implored Diety to come to his aid. He stood up and looked around. His eye caught a green patch on a distant mountain side. He went to it; he dug into the moist ground and found water; he carried water to his horses; then he led them to the newly developed spring. Soon the journey was resumed. God had come to Father’s aid. He was saved from death, the nature of which can be imagined only by those who have travelled over these white shimmering plains on a midsummer day.
The year 1858 was one of near-famine. The crops were so short that the people had to live on rations. The farm at Bountiful produced only twenty two bushels of wheat. After the grain had been harvested, Aunt Julia, Aunt Ruth, and Mother gathered the loose heaps of wheat, threshed them with a flail, and winnowed the wheat over a canvas spread on the ground. Meantime both Aunt Julia and Mother had a child less than a year old lying in the shade of some willows near by, and Aunt Ruth was about to become a mother. Devout souls, the pioneer women of Utah!
On the twenty-fourth of July, 1857, while commemorating the tenth anniversary of their entrance into the valley with appropriate exercises at Silver Lake–now Brighton–the pioneers were terrified with the news that Johnston’s army was descending upon the Utah Colonies, with the avowed purpose of subjecting the Mormon people to all sorts of indignities and perhaps extermination. During the autumn and winter following, father assisted in detaining Johnston’s army at Fort Bridger, Wyoming. Early the next spring, when it became apparent that the army fully intended to enter the valley, Father made preparations for his families to join the “move south.” At that time Mother and Aunt Ruth were living at Bountiful, and Aunt Julia in Salt Lake City. Mother told me that when they left, Father had placed inflammable material beneath the granaries and around the house, so that if necessary they could be burned at short notice.
Father accompanied Mother and Aunt Ruth to the “Shanghai flats,” near Utah Lake, in April of 1858, and then returned to Salt Lake City where Aunt Julia had remained because of the critical illness of her oldest son’s wife, Elizabeth Still, who died May 19, 1859. The next day Aunt Julia gave birth to her fourth daughter, Sedenia Tamson. Two weeks later, the very day that Johnston’s army entered Salt Lake City, they joined the Saints in their refuge near Utah Lake.
Greatly to the delight of the fleeing pioneers, General Johnston kept his word and marched his army peaceably through the streets of the abandoned city, and then went into camp in Cedar Valley at Fairfield, thereafter known as Camp Floyd. Immediately many of the Saints began to return to their homes; others remained behind and made butter and cheese for the army. Among the latter were Mother and Aunt Ruth, who thus earned sufficient money to buy many household articles that they had long desired.
In some respects the coming of Johnston’s army was a decided benefit to the Mormon people, but in others, decidedly unfortunate. It provided a ready market for much of their produce, flour, oats, hay, butter, cheese, vegetables, and other farm products. This enabled the Saints to purchase various articles which theretofore were entirely beyond their reach. Mother sold butter for as much as a dollar per pound, and in turn paid fifty dollars for a small stove. On the other hand, the army brought with it many undesirable features which the country could have well afforded to be without. It was extremely fortunate for the colonists that one of the stipulations permitting the army to enter was that it should not encamp until it reached a point well beyond the settlements.
After Mother’s return from the “move south,” she and Aunt Ruth again took up their abode on the farm at Bountiful. They lived in a small log house some distance back in the field by the side of a large spring of cold water. A year or so later Father built more commodious, adobe house about fifty feet east of the spring. This was subsequently remodelled on two or three occasions, into a very comfortable home where Mother lived for the remainder of her life. Mother’s first three children were born in Salt Lake City, but the later ones, beginning with Walker, 1850, were all born in Bountiful.
In 1861, Father obtained a large acreage of land in Rhodes Valley, also called the “Kamas Prairie,” forty-five miles southeast of Salt Lake City. Here he helped to establish the town of Kamas, at the mouth of Beaver Creek, where it debouches from the west end of the Uinta Mountains. Here Father invested in the cattle business and soon became the owner of large herds. Thereafter it was Mother’s custom to go to Kamas and, in connection with Aunt Ruth, make large quantities of butter and cheese, and then return to Bountiful for the winter. Part of these products were sold and part used by the families at Salt Lake City and Bountiful. Aunt Ruth moved from Bountiful to Kamas permanently, March 12, 1863.
Soon after going to Kamas, Father and Charles Russell built a saw mill on Beaver Creek where there was an abundance of excellent timber. It will be recalled from what was said in an earlier page, that Father also built a saw mill near Kirtland, Ohio, which causes me to speculate that he and his father may have followed the same vocation at Watertown or even Saint John. Albeit, at Beaver Creek Father and his associates manufactured large quantities of lumber, and later shingles, which were used not only locally but in Salt Lake City and Bountiful. Sufficient boards, about eighteen inches wide by twenty feet long, were hauled to Bountiful to fence the entire forty acre farm. The fence was two boards high and the posts were about ten feet apart. It was still standing in my early youth, but in a poor state of repair–a fact which I well remember because of the ease with which our cows got through it into the neighboring fields.
Father’s venture at Kamas proved to be very successful. Indeed, it was from this source that he subsequently obtained a considerable part of his income. The saw mill was profitable and the cattle, even more so.
Someone told me the following anecdote when I was a child. But first let me state that it was Father’s practise to drive his fatted cattle into Salt Lake City for market. On one occasion, as the story goes, he was under necessity of driving a herd on Sunday. He was overtaken by a none-too-industrious acquaintance, who inquired of Father where he knew the commandment relative to resting on the Sabbath day. Whereupon Father, fully exasperated, retorted that he did, and added that he was only one sixth as guilty as his inquisitor who did not work at all, since the commandment also says, “six days shalt thou labor.”
The road from Salt Lake City to Kamas at that time was an extremely poor one. It led close to the creek bed through Parley’s Canyon, then across Parley’s Park, via Kimball’s ranch, and finally over the “Big Hill” between Silver Creek and Rhodes Valley. Throughout its entire length the road was rough and irregular; over the Big Hill it was unusually steep, and in some places, dangerous. The journey by wagon required two full days. Father, who always drove fine horses and outfits, commonly made it in one.
January 16, 1864, Father married Jessie Bell Stirling in Salt Lake City. Her first two children were born in Salt Lake City, and the later ones in Bountiful; some twenty-five rods southwest of Mother’s house, but on the street. It was here that Aunt Jessie lived until some time after Father’s death, when she sold it and built a more comfortable one near by at the west.
Phylotte Green, Father’s mother, died January 6, 1866, at the advanced age of ninety-six. She had lived with Father and Aunt Julia since 1837, and had been a consistent Latter-day Saint throughout the entire time. She was admitted to membership at the sixth meeting of the Relief Society held at Nauvoo April 28, 1842. Father buried her in the family lot in the city cemetery at Salt Lake City.
On the second of May, 1868, Father married his seventh and last wife, Lucy Jane Giles at Salt Lake City. Very soon thereafter she moved to Kamas, where Father built her a comfortable little home, only a few blocks distant from Aunt Ruth.
On the nineteenth of November, 1869, Father and Aunt Julia and their son Ward left Salt Lake City for a short-term mission to several of the eastern states. While Father gave a large number of lectures on Mormonism, yet he devoted the major part of his time to the gathering of family genealogy. In this he was very successful, for when he and his party returned to Salt Lake City, May 10, 1870, until the time of Father’s death in 1885, he and Aunt Julia and Ward spent much time in the Logan Temple performing ceremonies for the dead whose records they had obtained on this trip.
The following self-explanatory note appears in the Deseret News of December 1, 1875:
“Elder John Pack has done a very liberal thing. He has deeded over to Bishop John H. Smith, of the Seventeenth Ward, and his successors in office, a piece of ground, valued at about $1,000, on condition that a good and substantial meeting-house be erected thereon, subject to the condition that such building shall not be used for balls, parties, political or similar gatherings, but exclusively for religious meetings and observances, by the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and such meetings as shall be approved by the presiding authorities of said Church.
“Brother Pack also generously deeded a piece of ground in the same ward of similar value, to Marinda Hyde, President of the Ladies Relief Society and her successors in office of that ward, on condition that a good and substantial building be erected thereon suitable for the furthering of the purposes for which the society was organized by the authorities of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“This is a most generous donation for a laudable object and is well worthy of emulation.”
Father was one of the organizers of the Deseret Agricultural and Manufacturing Society–forerunner of the present State Fair Association–and was closely identified with it until the time of his death. He was doubtless attracted to this undertaking chiefly because of his interest in farming and agriculture. He was a lover of fine stock and exhibited them regularly each year at the fair, also various farm products. Mother also regularly exhibited such articles as butter, dried fruits, and, later, bottled fruits. I remember that John R. Winder was one of Mother’s chief competitors in the butter exhibits. Mother, however received her full share of the first prizes.
My own early interest at the state fair was doubtless prompted by the fact that Father was able to obtain free passes for the family. Our visits to the fair was one of the chief diversions of the year. I also have clear recollection of the fact that after Father’s death the complimentary passes were no longer forth-coming and that thereafter our visits were far less frequent.
I have already stated that Father was a lover of good stock. When he left Nauvoo in 1846 he was well equipped with both oxen and horses. On his pioneer journey to the valley, in 1847, he provided himself with a good team, also an excellent saddle horse. Indeed, he seldom had anything but the best. In his later years, that is in the early eighties, when I can first remember him, he owned a beautiful Hamiltonian stallion which he called “Ham.” Ham was a high spirited creature, capable of trotting at almost record speed. Father boasted of his practise of driving Ham from Salt Lake City to Kamas in a single day, whereas with an ordinary animal the trip was necessarily nearly twice as long.
Ham was kept in excellent condition, and was used only for driving with a light one-seat buggy. I am of the opinion that Father took delight in driving Ham at top speed when Mother was with him, knowing, as he did, that she was none too comfortable with even the slowest of horses. At least this is the opinion that Mother gave me.
One of the chief delights in connection with Father’s visits to our home was the ride that he almost invariably gave me when he returned to the city. He would permit me to go with him for half a mile or so, and then I would walk home, feeling that the ride had far more than repaid me for the effort.
After the United States Government decided to prosecute all Latter-day Saints who had contracted plural marriages, Father was, of course, constantly liable to arrest, but he went about his business in the usual manner, merely explaining that if the deputy marshalls wanted him, they knew where he lived. Although he was never known to mention it, yet his family and intimate friends knew that he placed full confidence in the promise of his patriarchal blessing, stating, “Thou shalt have power over prisons; they shall not hold thee.” Father was fully converted to the principle of plurality of wives, and, happily, he was never molested or made afraid.
John Pack died very suddenly at his home in Salt Lake City in the late evening of April 4, 1885, after a simple illness of less than a week. The news was brought to our home in Bountiful, early the next morning by William Tolbert as Mother and her family sat at the breakfast table. Mother immediately broke into tears and expressed deep regret that she was not with him at the time of his departure. We immediately made preparation to go to the city, which we reached shortly after noon of that day. We were told that Father had wakened somewhat suddenly with a shortness of breath and requested Aunt Julia to send for some Elders, but that he died before they arrived.
A few days later, funeral services were held in the Seventeenth Ward meeting house, only a few rods from his home. Elder John Henry Smith, then an apostle, but formerly the Bishop of the ward was the principal speaker. Father was extolled as a devout Latter-day Saint, a true son of God, all of which he fully deserved. We buried him in the family lot in the city cemetery in Salt Lake City, and later erected at his grave an appropriate granite monument, upon which is engraved the following:
Born May 20, 1809, New Brunswick
Dominion of Canada
Died April 4, 1885
Baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, March 8, 1836
Appointed Senior President of the Eighth Quorum of Seventy, October 8, 1844, at Nauvoo, Illinois.
Commissioned Major in the Nauvoo Legion October 28, 1844 by Governor Ford of Illinois.
He was a Captain of fifty in the Utah Pioneer band
Entered Salt Lake Valley July 22, 1847.
Assisted President John Taylor in Opening the French Mission 1849-1852.
Performed four other missions. He was the father of forty-three children.
Before Father’s death he disposed of the larger part of real estate by warranty deed, to his various wives. Aunt Julia received the lot in Salt Lake City, Aunt Ruth certain holdings in Kamas, Mother slightly more than half of the farm at Bountiful, Aunt Jessie the remainder of the farm, and Aunt Lucy property at Kamas. Certain other lands at Kamas, cattle, chattels, etc. were disposed of by will, of which John Pack, Jr. and Quince R. Pack were executors. The families were thus all left in fairly comfortable circumstances, that is in so far as lands were concerned. Father’s distribution of his property was generally regarded as perfectly equitable, which I should say was a very great accomplishment, especially in view of the size of his family.
In physical stature John Pack was about five feet nine inches tall and weighed close to one hundred seventy pounds. Even in the later years of his life he stood erect and walked neat with a sprightly tread. He was always well dressed; he was neat and tended somewhat toward aristocracy. He had a rather large forehead, with a mass of curly black hair well back from the temples. His chin was perhaps slightly smaller than normal, mouth firm, nose straight, and expressive dark eyes. He wore a moustache and a nearly trimmed beard, which in his later life was tinged with grey. Altogether he was a very striking and commanding figure.
He is said to have been frankness personified. He possessed no tolerance whatsoever for insincerity or hypocracy. He was outspoken in his opinions and fearless of results. It is said, in fact, that sometimes he offended people with his abruptness, especially those who were not well acquainted with him. He possessed pronounced opinions, but, withal, was as obedient as a child to every official call made of him.
He is rated as a man of extreme honesty and as one who almost abhorred indebtedness to others. Shortly after his return from France, he had an opportunity to enter the mercantile business, but he refused to do so, on the ground that he feared it might lead him into unfair dealings with his brethren. He was meticulously honest in all things. He died owing no man.
Father was a staunch convert to the religion of the Latter-day Saints, and was ready at all times, if necessary, to lay down his life for it. Even more, he was willing to live it. He devoted nearly ten years to missionary work away from home, and at all other times he was industriously engaged in local organizations. During the thirty years that he was president of the Eighth Quorum of Seventy, he was consistently in attendance at its meetings, and at all times advocated strict obedience to the principles of the Gospel in every sense of the word.
Father was a good provider. From his early manhood, possessed marked ability to acquire property, and yet he never exercised this gift to the disadvantage of his spiritual growth. He did not love property for its own sake, but rather for the service that could be rendered by it. For this reason he did not become a rich man, merely a helpful man. When the Saints were forced from Missouri, he contributed the proceeds from the sale of his property to those who were in need. When they left Nauvoo he had three teams and wagons to add to the fleeing train. At Winter Quarters he furnished a team and a saddle horse for the first expedition to Utah. On his second trip to Utah he again owned ample transportation facilities. While he was absent in France the first sessions of the University were held in his house. A little later he provided a complete outfit for the Salmon River venture, and the following year he met the expense of the trip to Carson Valley. Father was ever helping; he was never an expense to the Church or to his people; he was always an asset, never a liability. He asked for nothing but gave much.
But I unhesitatingly regard Father’s attitude toward his family as his outstanding achievement. Polygamous relations test the strength of men and women perhaps more completely than any other experience, and yet Father went through it for forty years, and came out infinitely the stronger because of it. I have never heard one of his wives speak ill of him or accuse him of being biased or unfair. On the contrary, I have heard each one of them praise him because of his justice and his determination to do right. The prime secret of his marital success doubtless lay in the fact that he persistently made his home with his first wife and called upon the others to love and respect her. Then, too, Father was unusually fortunate in having very superior women as his wives.
He was a devout Christian, an honest man, an excellent husband and father.
John Pack was the father of forty-three children, twenty-three boys and twenty girls, nearly all of whom survived him. At the present time, fifty-two years after his death, his descendants exceed one thousand. The names of his wives and children follow:
Julia Ives Pack, first wife, married at Watertown, October 10, 1832, New York
Ward Eaton born Watertown, New York April 17, 1834
Lucy Amelia born Kirtland, Ohio June 24, 1837
George Caleb born Nauvoo, Illinois Nov. 6, 1840
John Pack, Jr. born Nauvoo, Illinois Oct. 5, 1843
Julia born Nauvoo, Illinois Oct. xxxxxxxxxx
Don Carlos born Winter Quarters, Neb. Aug 22, 1847
Eleanor Phylotte born Salt Lake City, Utah Aug. 22, 1849
Erastus Frederick born Salt Lake City, Utah June 17, 1853
Merrit Newton born Salt Lake City, Utah May 1, 1856
Sedenia Tamson born Salt Lake City, Utah May 20, 1858
Joel Ives born Salt Lake City, Utah Sept. 9, 1860
Nancy Booth Pack, second wife, married Nauvoo, Ill. Jan. 6, 1846
Sarah Amelia born Salt Lake City, Utah June 2,1849
Adelbert Beaumont born Salt Lake City, Utah May 4, 1853
Ruth Mosher, third wife, married at Nauvoo, Illinois Jan. 1846*
Silas Mosher born Salt Lake City, Utah Oct. 20, 1849
Catharine Devalley born Salt Lake City, Utah June 8, 1853
Irving James born Salt Lake City, Utah April 16, 1855
Orson Parley born Salt Lake City, Utah Nov. 2, 1856
Ursula Vilate born Bountiful, Utah Aug. 22, 1858
Yoma Zeneth born Bountiful, Utah Mar. 2, 1860
John Ambrose born Bountiful, Utah Sept. 1, 1862
Martha Mary born Kamas, Utah Mar. 13, 1865
Benjamin Vancura born Kamas, Utah June 11, 1867
Eliza Jaine Graham, fourth wife, married Nauvoo, Illinois Jan. 6, 1846*
Mary Jane Walker, fifth wife, married Salt Lake City Sept. 15, 1852
Geneva Harriet born Salt Lake City, Utah July 22, 1853
Kamelia Luella born Salt Lake City, Utah Dec. 17, 1855
Quince Rufus born Salt Lake City, Utah Nov. 29, 1857
Walker Zenophon born Bountiful, Utah Feb. 17, 1860
Jane Annie born Bountiful, Utah Sept. 28, 1862
Edith Olive born Bountiful, Utah Mar. 17, 1865
Flora Inez born Bountiful, Utah Dec. 10, 1867
Phylotte born Bountiful, Utah Dec. 7, 1869
Hattie born Bountiful, Utah Sept. 30, 1872
Frederick James born Bountiful, Utah Feb. 2, 1875
Harold R. born Bountiful, Utah Aug. 7, 1882
Jessie Bell Stirling, sixth wife, married Salt Lake City Jan. 16, 1864
William Elmer born Salt Lake City, Utah Nov. 15, 1865
David Thomas born Salt Lake City, Utah Sept. 19, 1867
Elizabeth Nettie born Bountiful, Utah Nov. 27, 1870
Hyrum Osmer born Bountiful, Utah Nov. 15, 1872
Roy born Bountiful, Utah Mar. 10, 1875
Gerald born Bountiful, Utah Aug. 7, 1878
Jessie Bell born Bountiful, Utah Mar. 30, 1882
Lucy Jane Giles, seventh wife married at Salt Lake City May 2, 1868
Ida May born Kamas, Utah Mar. 8, 1870
Parley William born Kamas, Utah Sept. 20, 1875
Inez Ann born Kamas, Utah Oct. 27, 1878
Compiled and written by Frederick J. Pack
Dated at Salt Lake City, Utah, October 22, 1937
February 20, 2009
So today I’m sitting with my grandma and she tells me a story. And I’ll relate it to you, probably somewhat inaccurately.
She when she was young, she earned money by babysitting. She got a whole 25 cents an hour to babysit. And then she would take 10% of that money and put it into a place in order to pay her tithing. They would line up and pay it every so often.
Before she went to college, she saved and saved all of her money. And she finally was able to save up $300. This money would cover tuition and books, and basically everything she needed for school.
She had a bank book, to keep track of the money in her bank, and she put the money in the bank book and was riding on the bus one day. It was on her lap, with the money sticking out, and when she got off the bus and went home, it was gone.
She had a date, so she couldn’t go back and look for it. She had to go on her date. She did not pay attention at all, just thinking about where all of her hard-earned money could have gone to.
When she got home, they called the bus people, and she managed to remember the number of the bus, but they hadn’t found anything in it. She and her dad went to the bus station to look at the bus, but it wasn’t there.
She was hopeful that it would turn up. She went to church, and after she had left, she realized that she hadn’t paid her tithing. She needed to. So she went back and she got her tithing, and she went and paid it.
After paying her tithing, she fully expected the money to show up. She was walking with a friend home, and she decided to walk up to where the bus stop was. She kicked some snow around, trying to find it.
And there, right on the top of the snow, was her bank book. There were footsteps all around it, where people had gotten on and off the bus after she had dropped it.
But the bank book and all the money were right there waiting for her, as if someone had kept it and held it and then put it back down so she could find it.
And that was my grandma’s story.
Elizabeth Donnelly (or Donley) married Ralph Maxwell in 1823. They were both born in Ireland, but they married in England and most of their children were born in Scotland. They had six. A son died either before or slightly after his first birthday.
They moved around some: from a farm six miles outside of Lanark, Scotland, and then into Lanark itself, where the boys were weavers and worked in the textile mills.
In 1844, the family became members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. One of Elizabeth’s daughters was baptized first, and then the rest of the family soon followed.
The moved briefly to Bristol, England, and then back to Scotland, this time to Glasgow. They were members of the congregation there from 1852 to 1856. Ralph Maxwell died there.
In 1854, one of Elizabeth’s sons, John, went to America.
Two years later, she prepared herself and the rest of the family (including Elizabeth’s 4-year-old niece, who was also Elizabeth, Elizabeth Durrah. Elizabeth Durrah’s mother Jane had died shortly after she was born) to go to America, specifically to join the Saints in Utah. They used money from the Perpetual Emigration Fund for the trip. In March 1856, they got on the ship Enoch Train, and while on that ship, Elizabeth saw the marriage of her oldest son, Arthur, to another Elizabeth, Elizabeth McAuslin.
They went by train to Iowa City, and then they went with the Daniel McArthur handcart company to cross the plains to Utah.
Elizabeth, who was 52, became sick and stayed at Fort Bridger until she was well enough to continue.
Her family went onward, and her sons started building her a house.
Either next year or a few months later (my accounts conflict), she came the rest of the way. Her son John, went to meet the company before they arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.
But when he got there, he learned his mother had passed away the day before. She died and was buried in a cave at the head of Echo Canyon. She was in Utah, about 30 miles away as a bird flies (though she probably would have travel led around 50 more miles) from Salt Lake. The distance from Scotland to Salt Lake is roughly 4, 575 miles. She had traveled 99% of the way. So close, but she didn’t make it back to her family.
Her youngest child, Ann, was around 13 at the time. The rest ranged in ages from 19-32. Elizabeth Durrah, her neice, was taken care of by her oldest son Arthur.
It’s a tragic story–and yet, not so tragic. Her husband had died and she got to join him again. She only saw the death of her one of her children. And most of all, she had something she believed in enough to sacrifice her life for.
If only she could have held on another few days–but she died heading to Zion. And I think it’s better to die 30 miles away from Zion than dying without knowing who you are and where you’re going in the first place.