Charles Ramsden Bailey

1839 - 1910  (70 years)  Submit Photo / Document    Has no ancestors but 21 descendants in this family tree.

• Name	Charles Ramsden Bailey
  Birth	31 Aug 1839	Honley, Yorkshire, England
  Christening	22 Mar 1840	Wentworth, Yorkshire, England
  Gender	Male
  Initiatory (LDS)	7 Nov 1860	EHOUS
  FamilySearch ID	KWC6-DVG
  Death	16 Jan 1910	Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States
  Burial	19 Jan 1910	Wellsville City Cemetery, Cache, Utah, United States
  Headstones	Submit Headstone Photo
  Person ID	I174739	mytree
  Last Modified	25 Feb 2024

  
  

  Family	Hannah Jones,   b. 9 Apr 1853, Llanasa, Flintshire, Wales d. 18 Sep 1923, Logan, Cache, Utah, United States (Age 70 years)
  Marriage	4 Apr 1870	Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah, United States
  Children	1. Edward Jones Bailey,   b. 18 Jul 1871, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States d. 25 Apr 1875, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States (Age 3 years)   2. Jane Jones Bailey,   b. 6 Oct 1873, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States d. 5 May 1938, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States (Age 64 years)   3. Daniel Jones Bailey,   b. 20 Mar 1876, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States d. 13 Feb 1960, Logan, Cache, Utah, United States (Age 83 years)   4. Elizabeth Jones Bailey,   b. 1 Jun 1878, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States d. 29 Jan 1973, Logan, Cache, Utah, United States (Age 94 years)   5. Henry Jones Bailey,   b. 16 Jul 1880, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States d. 23 Nov 1940, Burley, Cassia, Idaho, United States (Age 60 years) + 6. Ella Jones Bailey,   b. 16 Oct 1882, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States d. 14 Sep 1969, Logan, Cache, Utah, United States (Age 86 years)   7. Lawrence Jones Bailey,   b. 10 Jan 1885, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States d. 25 Dec 1962 (Age 77 years)   8. Edmund Jones Bailey,   b. 30 Apr 1887, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States d. 28 Apr 1973 (Age 85 years)   9. Luther Jones Bailey,   b. 1891, Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States d. 5 Dec 1966 (Age 75 years)
  Family ID	F8572	Group Sheet  |  Family Chart
  Last Modified	5 May 2024

  
  

• Event Map

  Birth - 31 Aug 1839 - Honley, Yorkshire, England Christening - 22 Mar 1840 - Wentworth, Yorkshire, England Initiatory (LDS) - 7 Nov 1860 - EHOUS Marriage - 4 Apr 1870 - Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah, United States Death - 16 Jan 1910 - Wellsville, Cache, Utah, United States Burial - 19 Jan 1910 - Wellsville City Cemetery, Cache, Utah, United States  = Link to Google Earth

  
  

• Notes

  Charles Ramsden Bailey was baptized into the LDS Church by John Taylo r . Taken from his Autobiography. BIOGRAPHY: Charles was born a "Ramsden" but took the last name of his mo t her's first husband, who had died. BIRTH: There is a discrepancy in dat es . Another family record says it was 1 Sep 1839. And another says i t wa s 31 Aug. 1839. MARRIAGE: Could also be 17 Nov 1863. DEATH: Discrep ancy . Could also be 19 Jan 1910. SOURCE: Book, "Charles Ramsden Bailey " by J ay Years and Betsey Long (1983). Archibald family group records . Templ e Index Bureau (TIB) on child, Susannah Hawkins Bailey Archive fa mily gro up sheet submitted by Margaret B. Smurthwaite of SLC. Wellsvill e ward rec ords, GS Film #027,410. Autobiography of Charles I, Charles Ramsden Bailey, son of Charles Ramsden and Jane Robbins Baile y , was born in the little town of Honley, Yorkshire, England, August 31s t , 1839 . Born of humble parents, my father was a stone cutter by trad e . However, he could cut or delve stone from the quarry and was a ver y ha rd worker. [He was] very strong, more than average in size, about s ix fe et in height, weight 175. When he was himself he was kind to his f amily , but he was one of those kind of men that lacked fortitude and wa s ver y easy led by company to drink; and many times he lost his manhoo d and wo uld get drunk. It was then he would be unkind and may times abu se his fa mily, drinking up all his wages, and this made home very unplea sant. Mot her was a small woman, but full of energy, high spirited, an d could not s tand drinking; and in particular to be abused also. For [t o] speak [he r mind], she would, under these or any other circumstances , as that was h er nature, but she was a kind and loving woman after on e got acquainted w ith her. She loved her family dearly and always wante d them to appear de cent in society, being well clad, always attending Su nday School and chur ch every Sunday. She was very religiously inclined , firm believer in th e bible, and was thoroughly conversant with the bib le . In early life I commenced going to Sunday School. I well remember the f i rst time I went with my sisters, Mary Ann and Sarah; each took me by t h e hand to school. This would be before I was three years old, and I alw ay s went with the girls every Sunday morning. The school we went [to] w a s the Church of England or the Episcopal Church. As I grew older I wen t t o the day school which belonged to the same church, but I well rememb er t he first day I went. The schoolmaster or teacher took me and trie d me wi th the alphabet, and I went through the letters every way he coul d try me . And then he took me through the next grade, and he found me u p as wel l in that as the other. So he tried me with the third grade an d found m e very well up with that. However, he kept me in the third an d asked m e who had been teaching me. I told him mother had taught me . He said, “ I wish all mothers would do that. ” I found that I had a good start, and I kept on going to school until I w a s about seven years old, when I went with one of my playmates to the wo ol en factory; and the boss wanted me to go to work also. So I worked th a t day, and after coming in the evening mother asked me where I had bee n , so I told her. And she was undecided whether to let me go or not. B u t on account of our circumstances she thought I could go and make a lit tl e [money], but I must go to Saturday night school if I went to the fac tor y. This I did. However, the school teacher, Joseph Donkersley, wa s ver y sorry to have me quit school, but he said if I would attend the S aturda y night school he would feel a little better. He took great pain s with m e both on Saturday night and Sunday at school, as he had the cha rge of th e Sunday school also. So I kept on working half-time and the o ther hal f I went to school until I reached the age of eleven years; the n I was pa ssed for full-time, being a large boy of my age. It was no tr ouble for m e to pass; however, the master of the factory was liable [t o the law], a s no one should pass for full-time until they were thirtee n years old. A nd I well remember the General Inspector coming around . I was sitting do wn at the time, and he told me to stand on my feet, w hich I did. And h e looked at me, and I was afraid he would condemn me ; but he said, “All r ight, you will do.” In going back a little to my Sunday School days, I may say that I had [l e arned] the Church of England catechism of by heart and had to repeat th e m often to visitors that would come to visit the school on a Sunday mor ni ng. Sometimes some of them would give me a little for repeating it fo r t hem. About this time I had joined a cricket club, as a number of u s litt le fellows had got together and formed a club, both running race s and pla ying cricket, and we got to be a good club. I was the fastes t runner i n the whole country! I was running almost all the time, bu t I did not pl ay in a match as often as I would have liked to have done , as we always h ad a race on when we had a cricket game on; and for fea r I would get crip pled, I did not play. And in my racing, I always bea t my man. I remembe r my school teacher calling me to him and said to me , “Charles, you are a lways running races. Don’t you think it will lea d you astray so that [wh en] you are a man you will perhaps take to drink ing like your father? ” I said, “I hope not.” H asked me how mother an d the girls took [to m y running]. I told him, “Not very well, as they f elt as you do. Afrai d I might get to drinking.” “Very well now”, he sa id, “Charles, be ver y careful what you do. But”, said he, “I’m glad t o hear you always bea t when you run.” I think the record said I had ru n 14 races and lost bu t one, and that was accidentally. When I was 10 or 11 years old my father went to drinking, and because mo t her would not stand it, he left home for 13 drinks. After drinking thr e e month’s wages up and breaking everything in the house and abusing m y mo ther, he thought he had better leave; so he went away for 13 weeks . Duri ng that time we got every[thing] fixed and [we] was doing nicel y when h e came to the house one night and asked to come back and promise d to do b etter—but we knew better. However, mother [said] she would tr y him again , as she had done many times before. He did some better fo r a little whi le, when he did the same again and again . When I was about 13 years old we moved into Lancester to work in the cot t on factory. Or I should have said previous to this time, our cousin Ma r y A. Wheelock made us a visit. She had [a] beautiful little child abo u t seven months old. She was a Latter-day Saint and the first one I ev e r say. Cyrus H. Wheelock was a president over 3 conferences in Englan d . He came and preached in the open air, that was the first sermon we h a d heard in that part of the country. Mary A. Wheelock stopped with u s fo r about two months conversing with different ones on the scriptures , whe n she would show up the bible all right and the gospel and could do wn an y that came to talk with her. When she went home, Sister Sarah wen t wit h her, as they had formed an attachment to each other and Sarah t o the ba by. Mother concluded to let her go with Mary and nurse the baby . Afte r awhile, sister Mary Ann went to see Sarah and the folks and str ange t o say, both was baptized into the Mormon church. In a few months after this, Uncle William Broomhead, who had been in t h e church and president of a branch, visited us on his way to Liverpoo l . His family had gone to Utah one year before, and he called on us . I s hall never forget the Tuesday evening he came to visit us. A clas s leade r in the Episcopal church met at our house to hold meeting, and h e preach ed his doctrine, which did not suit uncle very well, so he aske d the priv ilege to speak. And Mr. Sykes, the preacher, gave Uncle Willi am the oppo rtunity to speak, and he did speak. And no mistake, he knock ed the othe r man’s doctrine all to splinters. Mr. Sykes was much put ou t and said t hat he would not come anymore. And I was glad to hear that , for I did no t want to have him come any more. Next day, uncle left us for Liverpool. He bid us goodbye and said we wo u ld come into the church before long. And I often thought of those word s , but it wasn’t long before it came to pass, of, as I was saying, befo r e we moved to Lanceschire. And in the meantime, the girls came home fr o m West Broomsick where they had been [staying]. Mary A. Wheelock had g on e, also, to Utah while we was at Mosleys in Ashton. We went to visi t a t Ashton, there was a large branch of the church [there], and we ha d a go od time there. After the afternoon meeting, we went to tea with o ld Fath er Lee of Ashton, and Cyrus H. Wheelock was with us. And as we s at dow n to tea, he opened a letter and read of the death of his little g irl wh o had died in St. Louis. Elder Wheelock was very much affected i n losin g his little girl, however, [and] had to speak in the evening mee ting o n celestial marriage. In the month of May, 1852, [my] sisters, Mary Ann and Sarah, and mysel f w ent on a visit to West Broomwick to some of our relatives, expectin g to b e gone about 10 days. But after we had been gone one week, we rec eived w ord from mother telling us to stop up there and she would come up , as fat her had been on a drunken spree ever since we had been gone an d had beate r her and abused her shameful; and he had gone but she did no t know where . However, she sold most of the things and came up with th e rest . In June 1852, mother and myself was baptized in the West Broomstick ba t h house by John Taylor, a local elder, and was confirmed by Elder Jame s B owers, president of the branch. We remained there 10 months. I work ed i n Chances Glass Works—got good wages, 10 shillings per week. But th ere w as nothing for girls to do in that part of the country, and [so] w e move d to Manchester where the girls got good work, and I got a good jo b of wo rk. But the wages was not so good as at West Broomstick, but w e got alon g very nicely [and] furnished the house very well. We identif ied ourselv es with the Manchester branch, which numbered four hundred sa ints; the co nference numbered about 1800 saints. During the time we liv ed in Manches ter, we was expecting to hear some tidings of father, but w e never hear d one word, expecting he was dead or had met with an acciden t during th e time he was on a spree. We remained in Manchester until the fall of 1854, when, in November 16t h , 1854, we received word to be at Liverpool on the 20th to set sail o n th e 23rd. we arrived all safe on the 20 at Liverpool, and on the 22n d emba rked on the ship Hollies for New Orleans. After we had all got o n boar d and had gone to bed, during the night a terrible gale came up fr om th e Irish Channel and took a small ship called a brig, loaded with wh eat, a nd sent her direct [into our ship],breaking our bulwarks. And whi le th e two ships was in this condition, a craft or black flat [was near] , an d the wind took her in between the two ships, and it was a terribl e job t o get them all apart. It took about two hours to clear them awa y so we c ould start that day. And the ship sprang a leak, and some gove rnment ins pectors came on board to see what damage she had sustained. A nd the wor d was given that she was not fit or prepared to stand the voya ge, se we w as brought back into port, and we went to hunt up lodgings . And we remained in Liverpool until the 17th of January, 1855, and we emb a rked on the fine clipper ship names Charles Buck, and on the morning o f t he 17th bid farewell to the old country that gave us birth. After w e ha d been out on the sea 3 weeks, the sailors said we would be in New O rlean s in about 5 weeks. But not so, for I remember on a Sunday mornin g whe n we met together on deck to hold meeting, the captain came out i n his ta u poling suit and called aloud, “All hands on deck”. And I tel l you ther e was not much time, for a black squall came up and it was awf ul—wind an d rain. The first mate said it was a bad a storm as he had ev er seen, an d it lasted 6 days, sea rolling mountains high. And our littl e craft roll ed about like a piece of wood, and the crew was afraid we wa s doomed. Bu t I had no fear then, for I was too young to realize the dan ger we was in . But I should fear now, as I can look back and wonder ho w in the world t hose ships ever made the trips. But the Lord as ever wa tched his peopl e in crossing the sea since the year 1837, for none as ev er gone down, ei ther sailing or steam vessels, but all has crossed saf e up to the year 19 05. We arrived New Orleans on the 15th of March, 1855, making 8 weeks an d 4 d ays crossing the Atlantic Ocean. We remained there for two days . When w e arrived, or before we tied up to the wharf, land sharks in th e shape o f men came along the side of the ship in little small boats an d climbed u p on board. And they came so thick and fast that Bro. Balent ine had to s tation a guard to prevent them from going down in among th e passengers . And some of them were very impudent and was going down an yhow, but th e guard made a stand and said if anyone tried it, he would d o it at his p eril. But they did not go down, or there would have been b loodshed . On the evening of the 17th [we] commenced piling our luggage down the ga n gway on the steamboat Michigan. There was between 5 and 6 hundred pass en gers on our ship and about 400 from another that set sail from Liverpo o l the same time of day that we did. Her name was Tempest. And beside s t he two ship loads, all piled together. Night came on and we had to s lee p the best way we could for that night. Next we had to hunt around a nd f ind our things. It took us about 12 days to get to St. Louis, as th ere w as a heavy current; river was rising, ice breaking up, large tree s comin g down the river. The Mississippi and Ohio and Missouri all risi ng mad [ together as] a large stream and a heavy current, and the trees w ould ge t into the wheels and smash them. Then we would have to stop an d repair , and altogether made us about three days longer than we shoul d have been . However, we arrived in St. Louis on the 29th of March In the evening. [ I t was] dark and we had to get off the boat and get our luggage on the w ha rf and fix the best we could for the light to sleep. Mother, two siste rs , and myself got our boxes and walled them around and spread a tent ov er ; and then we got inside ad laid there till morning. The tent we had w a s made on sea coming along. Mary Ann and Sarah helped to make 40 or 5 0 te nts. [We] kept one, so we could make use of it as I mentioned. Th e nex t day, the 30th of March, Cousin Benjamin Broomhead came with a tea m an d took us up to his house. He ad his wife, Sarah, made us very welco me an d was a s kind as could be. They had been here in St. Louis abou t 3 wee k and was very comfortable. We remained there about 6 days and r ecruite d up a little, and the folks did some washing, etc. On the 5th day of April we embarked on the steamboat Golden State, an d i n the afternoon we started up the great Missouri River after travelin g sl ow, as the water in some of the places was very shallow. There was o ne o f the boat hands at the front of the oat throwing a lead attached t o th e end of a rope to see how deep the water was. Sometimes he would s ay, “ No bottom,” but not often. The next throw would be 5 feet, then 4 . The m sometimes on the sand bar; then what a work to get her off the s and bar . But we arrived in Atchinson on the 9th of April. Atchinson was just la i d of for a city, but there was only about 6 houses there then and no la nd ing for the boat. But we got off her all right, and about one hour [l ate r] about 3 teams came to move us out 2 miles to make our first camp . Thi s was the fist time I ever saw oxen work, and I asked the man to l et me d rive. He gave me the whip, but the old fellows did not care to b e drov e by a greenhorn; however, we got to our home or camp and pitche d our ten t, and in a few days felt quite at home. We had four more besi des oursel ves, making 8 in number. In a few days we commenced makin g a landing fo r boats and streets, some working at [a] saw mill and at d ifferent kind s of work. We worked for about 6 weeks in Atchinson. [Then] in company with 2 other s , [I] went over on the other side of the river to work in Missouri. W e w as ferried over. We was there one week only and came back when the e migr ation commenced coming in boats. Every boat brought a load of Saint s til l we soon numbered thousands, and our company moved about 5 miles t o Icke ry Grover—We called it Mormon Grove . And we commenced working on the large farm, some plowing, some plantin g c orn, and some making a ditch around the farm. It is a beautiful far m [wi th] rich land. This [land was] taken for the outfitting post to cro ss th e plains. There was about 3,000 Saints that emigrated that year,18 55, th ere was three independent companies started before our company go t ready . However, just before we started, some of our relatives came o n the las t ship and came to the grove 2 weeks before we started; there w as old Gra ndma Robbins (over 93 years old), Aunt Nancy, James, Joseph, M ary, Cyru s Robbins. We [are] the first of the 13-pound company. Our re latives ca me in the second company. We started on our journey on the 27th of June, and then started the fu n ! Green cattle and green drivers made it amusing—cattle running away , wa gons upsetting. However, I was very fortunate myself, I had drove ca ttl e ever since I came to Atchinson, and I found it a good thing. We ha d ma ny incidents on the way; lots of accidents also. After we had trave le d a few days, we seen lots of buffalo; sometimes they would be aroun d ou r camp. Some of the brethren shot some, and we had meat to eat whil e w e was traveling along the Little Blue River. [One day] when sister Mary Ann was getting into the wagon—she was sitti n g on the wagon tongue and she was giving me a drink of water—when al l a t once she fell in front of the wheel. The first wheel went over he r ches t, and the hind wheel went over her jaw, breaking it all to pieces . I ra n to pick her up, and she appeared to be dead stiff. I called o n some o f the elders, and they laid their hands on her and prayed the Lo rd to ble ss her and restore her. And when they had finished, she came t o all righ t, and an old man that was in the company came and set her jaw . It wa s a difficult thing to do, but he set it very well, and she was a ble to m ove along with the company. It disfigured her some little, but c onsiderin g the circumstance, it was a miracle that she was not killed o n the spot . I may say, also, that where Mary Ann was run over was the [ same] plac e where old Grandma Robins laid down her body [later]. There was eleven accidents on the trip; 8 run over [and] 3 shot; 5 die d . Feed was very poor on the plains that year. Lots of cattle lay dow n a nd died foot soar [and for] lack of feed, and etc. When we came to F or t Laramie, we met about 500 Cheyenne Indians. Captain Balentine calle d e very man to shoulder his gun and keep alongside of the wagons as guar ds t o the company. When we camped for noon, they came in clouds, as i t were , begging for sugar, flour, etc., trading. And while they was al l roun d camp, one of the brethren, a young man, was standing with a gu n in hi s hand, playing with it. The gun went off and shot Sister Palme r in [the ] knee, shattering the knee all to pieces. This caused a grea t excitement , both with our people and with the Indians. They got on the ir horses an d prepared for battle in a moment, but when they got to unde rstand what w as the matter, they came in to camp and seemed to feel ver y sorry at th e accident. The poor woman was taken back to Laramie, an d she suffered t errible. They cut her leg off above the knee, but the y had to cut abov e again and again, and she finally died. This cause d a sad feeling in ou r company, as she was a beautiful singer and the li fe of the camp. Som e of the companies had cholera and buried 32 in 2 da ys . Those were days of trial to some that came along to Zion, while others c a me singing songs of everlasting joy, and this was the travels in thos e da ys. After we came to Sweet Water, we had a stampede in the day tim e [wit h] 16 wagons all running, breaking wheels, tongues, etc. However , in abo ut half day, all was repaired and we moved along; but our provis ions in t he whole camp was done, and we begun to feel a little blue abou t it. Bu t in a few days we met 4 wagons loaded with flour. They met u s on Littl e Sandy, and that night we had a dance until a late hour, as a ll the comp any felt light-hearted. Bye and bye we found ourselves in between the Big and Little Mountain, a b out 15 miles from Salt Lake City. We had a returned missionary in ou r co mpany, he was captain of ten; his name was Captain Pitt. He had bee n cap tain and leader of the Nauvoo Brass Band for a number of years, an d in ho nor to him the band boys came out and met him; and they had a gre at tim e all night. And I was one that had a great time—up in the mounta ins gua rding the cattle, and I could hear the band play and the dancer s enjoyin g themselves all night. Next morning we brought up the cattle, and in a short time all was on t h e way to the city, those on foot moving along as fast as they could t o se e the great city; and in the afternoon we all found ourselves in th e city . We passed right through the city to where now the University o f Utah st ands. There was only 2 stores in the city at that time [as wel l as] poo r looking houses, but we felt thankful that we had arrived. Th is was o n the 27th day of September, 1855. After being on the way for a bout 10 m onths, we had settled down in our tents, and the cattle had gon e to the c hurch heard, as we was through with them. President Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball and others of the twelve [me t u s], and many of the brethren and sisters from different parts of th e cit y [came] looking for us looking for relatives and friends. Brigha m and H eber spoke to us, telling [us] what to do and what we might expec t, bein g in a new country and unacquainted with things, [and] that we ma y find i t difficult for a time until we got acquainted with the countr y and peopl e. Some had come alone [with] no relatives here and felt a li ttle lonesom e. But friends came and seen if they could help them, and t hey soon foun d an acquaintance and was taken to their homes; and I thin k this gladdene d the [hearts] of those poor people who had come under th ose conditions . Mother, sisters and myself was all right, as Cousin Wm. Broomhead came w i th a team and took us to his house. And we was at home, as we found t h e house furnished as it was when Aunt Kate [and] Mary Wheelock—then Cyr u s H. Wheelock’s wife— [was there]. But, in the spring of 1855, she we n t to California—Aunt Kate Broomhead and two girls, Anne Maria and Jane , t hen young girls about 16 and 18 years old. This was a great disappoi ntme nt to us to find them gone when we arrived here, as they were the fi rst t o receive the gospel in Old England and to be the means of bringin g us in to the church. But we are reminded of the prize is to those tha t endur e to the end. We remained at Wm. Broomhead’s house all winter . In October the 20th, the rest of our relatives arrived in Salt Lake Cit y . They traveled in Captain Milo Andrew’s company. Grandmother Robin s di ed on the plains on the Little Blue River at the ripe age of 94 year s. S he was coming along with Aunt Nancy Robbins and her 4 children name d Jame s, Joseph, Mary, and Cyrus. They came and lived with us at Cousi n Willia m in the 17th Ward. About the 15th of December, 1855, James Robbins and my sister Mary Ann m a rried (full cousins). Soon after, they and Aunt Nancy’s family moved in t o the 15th ward. I might mention that after we got to the city, I go t wo rk with a man named Crossby and went down with him and a couple of h is bo ys to the field. And the first thing I did was cut corn, and we lo aded t he wagon box with fodder and started home. One of the boys [was ] drivin g the ox team. I was on top of the load and on our way home, i n turnin g the corner into Main Street, the oxen pulled off to the right ; and th e boy that was driving didn't say anything, and the wagon droppe d int o a ditch, and I slipped off with a lot of the corn fodder. And [I ] ha d the basket on my arm that held the dinner dishes, and I fell to th e flo or and broke my left arm. I walked home, and mother went with me t o Doct or France. I was in great pain after I got it set until after mid night ; then all the pain ceased. From that time, I was idle for about s ix wee ks. As soon as I could get work, I went to work on the canal. I would g o o n a Monday morning out as far as the penitentiary and would go to th e gri st mill with my sack, and would take all the flour I could get—some time s 40 pounds and sometimes 20 lbs. I would carry it home rejoicing , for f lour was a scare article those days; the grasshoppers had taken a ll or ne arly so all the grain, so that there was not half enough for th e people t hat was already here. However, I worked until the winter clos ed us up, w hich was in the month of January, 1856, so that we had brea d all the time , while many who came in with me was very short of bread. When the work shut down, I thought I would have to do something. Duri n g the time we had been here, we got acquainted with Vurlum Dives, the n li ving in North Willow Creek, now called Willard. And on the 22nd o f Febru ary, 1856, I started on foot for Willard, and when I got to Farmi ngton i t was snowing to beat time. However, I kept on going, not knowin g wher e I would stop for the night, but after traveling till in dark , I found m yself in Kaysville. As I entered the fort or town, I saw a m an choppin g wood, and he asked me where I was going or who I was lookin g [for] . I told him I was going to Willow Creek. “Well,” said, “you ar e not go ing there tonight.” I told him no and said I was a stranger i n the count ry and did not know where to stop. “Well,” he said, “you ha d better sto p with me all night.” I thanked him and accepted his invita tion. The la dy of the house gave me my supper, and then they gave m e a spade and som e corn to shell. And it being something new, and I wa s so tired, and aft er walking in the cold and snow all day and then [bei ng] in a hot room , I got so sleepy I could not keep awake to save me. A nd I felt that th e man and woman of the house perhaps thought I was lazy , but if they ha d felt as I did, they would have sympathized with me. Ho wever, I tried t o keep awake and shell a little corn until about eleve n o’clock. Then af ter prayer went to bed and I slept good all night. O n the morning I aros e and washed me, and the lady of the house informe d me it was fast day an d that they would not have any breakfast. Says I , “Alright,” and thanke d them for my supper and bed; then I started on m y journey. There was about 6 inches of new snow, and I had to beat the road acros s t he sand ridge, and a cold wind blowing till about noon. By the tim e I go t to Weber I was very hungry and thought I would go in to one hous e or an other and ask for something to eat. But this being the first tim e I eve r needed to ask for food, it was a hard thing to do. However , I kept goi ng until I got to President Farr’s house. And I saw a lad y at the gate , and I ventured to ask her, and she said, “why, you come i n, my boy.” A nd she gave me a loaf of bread, molasses, and milk; howeve r, she cut th e first slice and then left me to help myself. But I was a fraid to eat e nough, so I got up and left, not half satisfied, but I fel t a little bett er. And after I had crossed the Ogden River Bridge, an ic e old woman cam e to the gate and said, “My boy, you look tired.” “Yes, m a’am”, I said. A nd she said, “Hungry too, I expect.” “Yes ma’am” I repli ed. Says she, “w ait, and I will see what I can bring you.” She brough t 6 nice shortene d biscuits. “Them will help you”, she said. I thanke d her kindly and we nt on my way. At 11 o’clock at night, I found myself at Vurlam Cives’ house, he was n o t at home; he was out with the stock in Blue Creek. But his wife and h i s mother were home, and Patriarch Hyde and wife and son was there als o . And, oh. How tired I was—and footsore from and a little hungry. B u t I rested up, and in a few days I felt alright and tried to make myse l f at home. But it wasn’t long before I could sing the old song of “Ho m e Sweet Home.” There is no place like home, for I found that a boy’s b es t friend was his mother. And it took some time before I could feel a t ho me [there and] in every [other place] since. But as time rolled alo ng , I began to feel more at home. After about one week had passed, Verlum came home from Point Lookout i n G arland, and he asked me if I would like to go out there. Of cours e I did n’t like to say no, as it was the first thing he had asked me t o do, s o I said, “yes, I will go and try it.” I had never been on a hor se’s bac k as yet, but I thought I might as well commence now as at any t ime. This was on a Saturday and I had to start on Monday. And I was wonderi n g how I would get along, not being acquainted with riding or with the r oa d and a perfect stranger in that country, and also strange to the way s o f the customs of the country and people. However, Monday came, an d I wen t up went up into the mountains east of the house about one mil e and foun d the animal I was to ride. And I looked at her and wondere d if she coul d take me and the load, as she was very poor. And all the p oor thing ha d got [to] eat since she came on the Friday before was a lit tle grass aro und a little mud spring and about two quarts of oats that t he boss took o ut of his seed oats. The winter [of] 1855 was one of the hardest winters ever yet known. A n d what made it worse, the winter previous had all been so as stock cou l d winter out, and people never got up much hay. And then the grasshopp er s had took everything or nearly, so the hay crop was short, and nearl y al l the wheat was eat up. But at Willard, as it is now called, they r aise d about twenty five thousand bushels of wheat and good crops of oat s an d barley, corn, and other things that were not raised in but very fe w pla ces; and on this account people all over was unprepared for suc h a winte r as this [in] 1855. And the people almost every were north o f Kaysvill e drove their stock to range north west of Brigham, and that w as the reas on why I went out there. Stock was dying everywhere; the Chu rch had hund reds of cattle and horses in Cache Valley at that time and l ost over tw o thirds of them. But I must not forget to state how I got a long. As I started about the first of March on Monday, Vurlum saddled up the p o or mare, and I got on her. And they brought a large sack of grub, a n d I started on my journey. And got to Brigham and inquired [about] th e r oad of a man [and] told [him] were I was going. He put me on the roa d, s o I went along till I came to the big slough, and it looked a bad pl ace f or me to cross. And when I got to the middle, the poor mare mire d down , I had to get off into water and mud. And then I spoke to the ma re, an d she jumped and splashed me all over. And I led her out to the s ide an d got on again, and in a few minutes came up to two roads—one wa s to th e west and the other to the north. That [one to the north] was t he on e I should have taken, but I took the other to the west and found t ha t I had got to the end of the road. People had been hauling willows f ro m the Bear River, but I did not know it was Bear River—and I went on t o i t as it was frozen over, and I started east. The snow was on the ic e s o that I could not tell it was a river, but I came into the cattle ro ad a fter a while, which was about where Corinne is now situated. It was then near sundown, and after I had gone about 3 miles, I met an I n dian. He could talk pretty well, and he asked me where I was going . I t old him and asked him how far it was, and he said 15 miles. Shade s of ev ening was coming on, and my wet clothes frozen on me. I felt col d and ve ry hungry, but I would not take time to eat; and I was afraid th e poor an imal would give out with me, but we kept on. And I seen a ligh t bye an d bye, but to my surprise it was an Indian camp. And I though t I would b e eat up, mare and all, but some of the old ladies came out o f her tent a nd called. So I asked how far to Cole’s Camp, and one of th e bucks holle red, “3 miles.” Well, I thought it was a hard [thing to] d o, but I kep t on my way; and, in about one hour, I arrived all safe, bu t very tired a nd cold. James Cole and C. Harding was there, and they made a fire. I turned o u t the poor mare to find her own grub. I sat up to the fire, and soo n m y clothes began to smoke or steam. I eat a little and soon got sleep y . The two men took me in between them, and I soon got warm. I slept s ou nd till morning, and then I got up and looked around and seen lots o f poo r cattle; and I wondered how they was living, and asked the other m en wha t the stock lived on. They said not much, as the snow was about 1 8 inche s deeps. And this was my first trip for my new master. I remain ed ther e for about two weeks and our provisions gave out. And they tol d me I co uld come in and they would look after the stock, so I was gla d to do so a nd came in all safe and sound. After I had been home for a few days, I thought I would try the Canyo n . So I went and took a yoke of oxen and got good, large drag of mapl e wo od (small wood), and I tore all my clothes off my back, almost. Som etim e in April the winter broke up, and then we went to cleaning ditches , etc .; and next was plowing. And my boss, he put in a three acre patc h of la nd in wheat and said I could have it for a year’s work. Said h e though t it would [grow] thirty bushels of wheat to the acre, and I tho ught it w ould be all right. But when the summer sun came on the wheat , it prove d to be poor alkali land all covered with salaratus; and the r esult was i t only yielded thirty-three all together. So it made me fee l a little di scouraged at such a crop, but when I thought about it, I co uld not expec t anything better for the first time . I went to water it, I stole the water from another man, but I did not kn o w it, as my boss told me to go and water all night. And I remember goi n g on a Sunday night, and I went thinking I would give it a good waterin g . And I turned the water alright, and it got nicely started. And soo n t he stream stopped, so up the ditch I went for a half mile in my bar e feet . Now I heard the water going down into the other ditch, and I hu rried t o the place. But, to my surprise, I stepped into a prickly pea r with bot h feet; and I fell forward to help my feet, and my hand was i n the same b ed, and it did feel terrible. However, I got up the bes t I could. And m y feet was so sore that, after I had turned the water , which was at the s ame place that I turned it first, I thought I woul d make a better dam thi s time. Then I started back to the flied, bu t I had a struggle to walk t here, and I laid down. And after a while I went to see how the water was doing, and to my surpr i se, it was stopped again. So I laid down and try to sleep, but could n ot ; I was in such pain. In the morning I started up the ditch, and ol d Fat her Cole came along and asked me if I had been watering. I sai d I had be en trying to, but someone had stole my water or it broke loose . Said he , “Did Vurlum send you to water?” I said, “Yes.” “Well, yo u have been t aking some other man’s water. That is the reason you did n ot water. ” I said, “I did not know it.” He said [he] knew that, he sai d there wo uld [be] trouble about it. However, I never heard anything about it anymore, so I thought I would s t op till October conference, and if he did not give any more, I would n o t come back. So I went along till then and told him I wanted to go to c on ference to see mother and the girls. And Verlum and his wife went t o con ference, and when we was about six miles from the city, one of th e wheel s run off. If was just dark. The linchpin that held [the] whee l on cam e out, and we could not find it anywhere. And we had a troubl e to get i n the city, but we finally got there at about ten o’clock; w e stopped a t William Broomhead’s. It was at this conference when the snow fell in Salt Lake City about t w o feet. This was on a Sunday while meetings was going on; it snowed a l l day. President Brigham Young and all the people got terribly excite d , as there was six companies on the plains, four handcart companies an d t wo ox trains—about two thousand souls. Before the close of the after noo n meeting, President Young called for volunteers to take their team s an d go and meet these poor people. And all the folks that had come from the different places to conferenc e , nearly all volunteered except those that were too old. My boss was o n e that went after the poor saints, and by Monday at noon there was abo u t 50 teams on the way. And next day two hundred teams was gone, organi ze d into companies loaded with provisions, blankets, quilts, etc. Two m e n to each team. Some of the companies was three hundred miles back i n th e deep snow—could not move, nothing to eat for their cattle, snow s o deep . The hand cart companies had about 20 yoke of oxen to each compa ny. Th ey nearly all died, and scores of the people froze to death; som e lost th eir feet. This was a terrible tale to tell . I had to get to Willard the best I could. Had it not been for Verlum go i ng back [to help those snowbound], I should have remained in the city , bu t he wanted me to come back and he would give me more pay when he re turne d. So I came back, and the first thing I did was to thrash or tram p th e out about300 bushels of oats and clean them with the wind. I go t the m tramped out, and then we got some Indian squaws to help clean the m. Af ter I had finished the oats, I then got up 15 loads of wood. An d I came a ll alone and made the trip in one day. I got the wood about t wo miles so uth of Dry Lake. I was about four weeks hauling wood, as th e team coul d not stand to go every day, for it would be ten o’clock at n ight whe n I would get home with my load of wood. I was 17 years old. H owever, t he bad weather and snow stopped me for going to the canyon an y more tha t winter. I joined the choir at Willard, and we had a good choir at that time; h a d a good leader; he just came in from Wales. During the winter of 1856 we had a great reformation; all t h e people was called upon to confess their sins and then be baptized aga in , and on new Year’s Day I was baptized down at the old grist mill—we h a d to break the ice, which [was] about six inches thick. And that eveni n g I was confirmed and ordained an elder by President Alfred Cordon, an d A lfred Cordon was ordained an elder by President Brigham Young and Ors on P ratt, and apostle, President Young being mouth. Prophet Joseph Smit h ord ained Brigham Young an apostle, and Peter, James and John ordaine d Josep h Smith to the High Priesthood. So my ordination came about th e fourth f rom the head. I just thought of that while writing. I remain ed all wint er at my old place tending stock, etc . In the spring of 1857 I was impelled to go to April Conference at Salt L a ke. I had to go! I did not know why, but I started on foot and go t a ri de once in a while; got there in two days. After I arrived in th e [city ] I stopped at William Broomhead’s. Next morning, while I was wa lking al ong Second South, I met my sisters, Mary Ann and Sarah, and at o nce Sara h said to me Jim and Mary Ann was going to St. Louis. This asto nished me , and [I] could hardly believe it. Nevertheless it was true, a s the tea m had started north with their luggage. And Cyrus Robins [Jim’ s 9 year o ld brother] of Snowville, who had been living with them, had g one along w ith the wagon and luggage. However, in company with Mary Ann and Sarah, we went to the house [the y ] had been living in and found Jim sitting smoking his pipe. He was su rp rised at seeing me there, and I asked him what was this he was tryin g t o do and also his reason for going away. He said he was going to St . Lou is to try and make a raise. I said to him, “You can make a raise h ere a s well as you can in St. Louis or anywhere else.” I said others ha d mad e a raise here, and he could do the same if he would work, but no o ne wou ld give him a raise. “But,” I said, “you can go if nothing else w ould, ” but he could not take Mary Ann, for I said we had trouble enoug h in bri nging her here. Well, he did not know what to say in answer t o this, bu t he did not care to go then. But what to do about the boy an d luggage w as the mystery. However, in the evening me and Bro. Charles Parkinson started after th e t eam and went as far as Farmington and looked all round for them but c oul d not find them no place. And we got back to the city early in the m orni ng, footsore and terrible tired. After two days, Jim thought he cou ld g o after the team and the boy, and Mary Ann remained in the city fo r a fe w days to see if he was coming back. However, he never came and s he wen t [to] Farmington to live [with] Joshua and Sarah Brown. By thi s tim e I had got back to Willard and could hear nothing of him or team , so I h ired a horse and saddle and went north and crossed the Bear Rive r on a fe rry boat. And there I found Jim in camp all right, playing th e violin, s inging, etc., as happy as a lark, as though nothing was the m atter. An d he was much surprised at seeing me again on his trail, an d I looked a t him and asked him where Cyrus was. He said he did not [kn ow] where h e was, as he had not seen him or heard of him and thought h e would find h is way back or perhaps find me in Willard. And to see hi m so indifferen t about it made me out of temper. And I said he was a wo nderful man to b e enjoying himself and the boy lost among strangers an d his wife lookin g all the time for his return, as she never had any tho ught but he woul d come back with the boy and the things. (But he went o n under these circ umstances to St. Louis and afterwards married a wife t here and had a larg e family of children. However, we have never seen hi m since. He has be en dead for a number of years, and Mary Ann lived wi th Sarah for about th ree years in Farmington [and remarried]) . [In the meantime], Cyrus, he lost the wagon somewhere in Willard. He w a s crying to think he was all alone among strangers for so many days, a l l the time expecting them to come along. And [he] fretted about it, a n d some good kind woman asked him what he was crying for. And he told h e r as well as he could, and she gave him some bread and milk. And afte r h e had eat he started after the team. And as he came near Brigham City , h e took the wrong road—he took up the canyon and came though the littl e va lley what is now called Mantua. There was no house then between Bri gha m and Wellsville, and night overtook him; and the boy was lost, and h e cr ied himself to sleep. And in the morning he did not know what to d o or w hich was to go, and he was there for two days and nights in that l onely c ondition. However, the third day Bros. John Maughan and Zial Riggs came along th a t way and heard someone cry. Then went up to see what or who it was a n d found the little boy, as he was only about 9 years old. They found h i m exhausted for want of food and water. They took him to their wagon a n d gave him a little food and water, as they was afraid to give him muc h f or a while. They was on their way to the grist mill in Brigham, Joh n Mau ghan took the boy to live with him, and none of us had heard of hi m sinc e he left Salt Lake City with the team . However, in October 1857 I was called in company with about 9 others t o g o out and see where Johnston’s Army was, as they was on the way to ki ll o r drive out the Mormons, and hundreds of men and horses were calle d out t o go stop them. And, as I was saying, I was called and we came o ver to M augham’s Fort, now Wellsville; and here I found Cyrus at John Ma ughan’s h ouse, and I was glad to see him, and the poor boy was pleased t o see me . And this was the first time he had seen [any] of his folks fo r almos t one year. Yes, me and two young men from Willard remained in Blacksmith Fork for t w o weeks, one of us guarding the horses and anything else that might co m e along. After two weeks, Bro. James H. Brown came along very sick . H e had been out for several weeks on the lookout for the soldier; h e calle d us to come in with him. As he was coming down the canyon, Bro . Brown w as taken sick—chills, etc. And he said, “Boys, we must stop an d make a f ire and make something warm.” So we turned the horses out an d went to ma ke a fire, but we did not have one match among us. So we go t some rag an d put into a gun, fired it off, and then the rag was on fir e. And afte r a while got a fire and made Bro. Brown some hot tea. I don’ t know wha t kid it was, but I think ginger tea. But he said, “Boys, I w ant you [to ] lay your hands on me, or I shall die.” Now we were wonderi ng who woul d be called to be mouth. The other two said they could not d o it, and i t fell on me, and I did my best. And I am pleased to say h e got better a t once and afterwards eat his dinner. Then we came alon g to Maughan’s Fo rt; then the next day we went home to Willard . And in a short time, a company was called from Box Elder County, and I w a s one of the number, and started on foot in December. We went to Ogde n C ity first day. Next day up Weber Canyon; terrible bad walking. It w as l ate at night when we got to camp, very cold and tired. And then w e comme nced camp duty as soldiers and then working cleaning of the groun d, cutti ng willows, etc. We worked for weeks out there on half ration s and poo r clad, very poor stockings, only one shirt. We slept in wigwam s like th e Indians, had a fire in the center, and ten of us slept in eac h tent o r Wigwam. It was a hard, cold winter . There was over ten thousand men out standing guard and scouting all ov e r the country around Ham’s Fork and Bridger. And Johnston’s Army thou g h there was ten times as many as there was of our people out in the hil ls . They did not like us to keep them out there all winter, and they wa nte d to come into Salt Lake City and have a good time; but the Mormons s care d them out, because they thought we were too many for them. They ma de ma ny attempts to start in, but they reconsidered the matter and staye d ou t there until April 1858. They lost a terrible lot of cattle and mu les t hat winter, and sickness got among them for want of salt. Presiden t Brig ham Young sent several tons of salt to Johnston’s Army out to Brid ger, bu t they was afraid it was poisoned, and they would not use it much . Thi s was a wonderful winter I spent, but in the midst of it all, I en joyed v ery good health. In March we started back home. And the night before we started, twelv e o f us was called to go out and night herd so we could have a good star t i n the morning. We took our bedding with us and divided into two watc hes— six in each. I was on the last watch, and, at about one o’clock, wa s cal led up to go out and herd the stock. The snow had fallen about tw o fee t on to our beds, and how to get out was a job and the others to ge t int o bed. It was a hard night for us, but we survived and came in wit h th e animals and started about ten o’clock . We got down in Weber Valley and camped in a grove of Cottonwoods. The s n ow was four feet deep, we cut down the trees and trimmed off the branch e s and laid the branches on top of the snow and made our beds on top o f th em. In the morning we had melted the snow from the heat of the body , an d was down in a hole. But we got along, and next day brought us ou t of t he canyon, and we camped at East Weber, a little town at the mout h of th e Canyon. Next day brought us into Ogden City all well but leg we ary, an d next day brought us home in Willard . Home, did I say? No, it was not home in the fullest sense of the word , b ut I made up my mind to feel at home as well as I could. But yet I c oul d say, “Home sweet home, there is no place like home.” No, that is t rue , and I certainly found it so, if ever a young man did in this world . Yo u may live with other people, and they may be very kind to you an d appare ntly would [do] anything for you, but still that parental feelin g is no t there; for if you feel sick, you cannot make it known as well a s you ca n to mother and father. And then they can’t go to the same trou ble for y ou, but your parents can and they think it no trouble to do any thing fo r you. This was my experience. After coming from Echo Canyon, we went to putting in grain settlements n o rth of Salt Lake City to pick up all of their affects and barns and al l t hat would burn, as it was thought that the soldiers would come in an d tr y to plunder the homes of the Saints; as there had been a great dea l of r umors gone about among the Latter-day Saints. However, the Lord di d thing s in his own way, and it all came out right . We started about the tenth of April from Willard: ten teams and a lo t o f cows, sheep, pigs, and a few horses. Our teams was oxen and cows a nd s mall steers, not two years old; lots of them and every kind of wagon , n o wagon covers like we have today. [There were] carpets for cover, s om e lumber and every kind of covers. The people was destitute of clothi ng . Young men and young women [were] barefoot, and lots that I saw ha d no t sufficient to properly cover their nakedness, and this was the rul e an d not the exception. We traveled very slow as we was heavy loaded a nd ha d lots of small calves and sheep and lambs . On the morning of the 17th, Governor Cummings and Thomas L. Kane and oth e rs passed on their way to the city. They had just come from Washingto n . Cummings was appointed governor of Utah, and this was his first appe ar ance. In a day or two after they arrived, there was a great meeting c all ed, and a many spoke at that meeting. Pres. John Taylor, then an apos tle , spoke and roared like a lion. Cummings and T.L. Kane stared with a ston ishment. T.L. Kane was a great friend to this people and had been f or ma ny years, and he did much in this instance. On the 17th we arrived in Salt Lake City, and we unloaded our wagon; th e n I went back to Willard for another load. Was gone one week and cam e [b ack] to [the] city. And in a few days went with Cordon’s family; i n tw o days landed at American Fork. There we stopped for six weeks . I mad e one more trip to the city and back to American Fork. And afte r being t here for three weeks, I thought I would go and find mother an d the girls ; and I found them at Payson, and stopped there for a few day s. Then I w ent back to Provo and got work on the Canyon road. Bro. Wal ter Glenn, Se n., was the boss on the road. After I had been there a fe w days, Bro. Jo hn Wilson, a friend of ours, he had his family on the oth er side of Prov o River, and he was on the opposite side of the river, an d his provision s had run out. And to go around to the bridge was six mi les, while we wa s then within gunshot of his tent where his family was , and he was talkin g about being out of grub. I said, “I believe I dar e cross the river fo r you and get you something to eat.” He said, “Well , try, but be very car eful and not drowned.” The river was very high an d looked very wicked an d dangerous. However, I stripped off my clothe s and took a small pot i n my hands, and in I went and had a hard time t o get over. And I wishe d a many times I had not done it; however, I com pleted my errand and star ted back and tried to take the same line across . The water was pretty de ep, very cold, but I got over safe ad promise d myself that, while I had m y proper senses, I would [not] do as foolis h a trick any more. The next day while at work, there was a young man. He was six years old e r than me, and he was always running on someone. There was one in part ic ular that he was always trying to make a fool of, and I did not approv e o f it, and I told him so. And he turned on me and tried the same game . H e was a Yankee, and he [was] very insulting to the English and woul d bra g [about] what he could do. And he said he could out run, throw do wn, o r out jump me, and I said I did not believe he could do any of them . H e said he could. I said I would try him a race for hundred yards . So h e took me up. He wanted to bet his revolver, but I did not hav e one to p ut up, but some of the fellows put up some tobacco and one thi ng or anoth er. So I stepped off, and he wanted his own way of starting; but he did no t g et it, as we drew lots and I got my choice, and that was to start on e tw o three, as that was my old game in England. I knew I would get th e star t on him, so we went to the mark. And I watched him and said, “I’ ll ge t you alright.” And the first thing he knew we started and I got t he sta rt on him and beat him bad. And he did not like it, as the other s took h im down and made fun of him. He got mad ! Then he wanted to wrestle. And we was going to take a fall as Bro. Walt e r Glenn, the boss, came up to us and asked what we was doing here, a n d I told him. So he took me to the mouth of the canyon and I worked i n a nother crowd. Bro. Glenn as often referred to it, and about killin g a bi g blow snake with four large birds in its inside. Well, I worke d there f or about three weeks, mother and me was living in a small ten t by the riv erside. Josh Brown and Sarah came along and took her with t hem back to F armington, and she lived with them all summer . All the people was told that they could move back home again, as the pea c e commissioners had come and the people was called together; and afte r so me explanations had been made, all was reconciled and peace declared . An d they found that the President of the United States had been misle d by t he cunning of some territorial officials in stating that the peopl e was i n rebellion and the records had been burned up. But, on investig ation, i t was found to be untrue and groundless, for the commission an d the gover nor, Mr. Cummings, all declared that the records were in goo d preservatio n and all completed. And said, also, that they could not b lame the peopl e for defending themselves and did not think we were in re bellion neither , and they seemed to feel very bad for us as a people. I t was a great me eting at Provo and Lehi, all seemed to feel better tha n before and prepar ed to go home. The soldiers came into Salt Lake City and found no one at home—it wa s a s quiet as death. They marched straight through town and never moles te d anything. They crossed the Jordan River and camped overnight. Nex t da y they moved up the west side of the Jordan River and kept going til l the y got into Cedar Valley and settled down beside a large spring an d name d the place Camp Floyd. And in a few days the work commenced buil ding th eir quarters, and things was lively, ad lots of money in circulat ion. I n a short time there was then thousand troops and not less than t wo thous and camp followers—gamblers, merchants, liquor dealers, and ever ything th at was in the world. Large companies of ox teams coming in eve ry day loa ded with merchandise ad goods for the soldiers. Lots of our p eople mad e big money. Wages was three prices, and everything our peopl e sold the m was 3 or 4 prices. And cattle could be bought for fifty dol lars fo r a yoke of oxen. Good, heavy, strong wagons fifty dollars each . So th e people flocked out there, and all could get work and lots of g ood pay . But some of our people forgot who they was, they would drink with them a n d profane and be one of them. And while they could get plenty of money , l ots of them, men and women left the church and made shipwreck of thei r fa ith—and some got more bitter than the gentiles themselves. This wa s muc h to be lamented over. But it showed to us that while the people wa s poo r they was humble and could be handled, but as soon as they got a v ery li ttle money, then they began to show what was in them—they forgot t he man y testimonies they had born and what they had done and said in def ense o f the Latter-day work. And it presented another scene, as you cou ld se e every vice, both at Camp Floyd and Salt Lake City, Provo, and Ogd en, an d I many of the towns. And though but a young man, I looked on al l manne r of evil—drunkenness, profanity, smoking, gambling, etc. In the spring or summer of 1858 I went [to] work on the Lander’s Wagon R o ad, which left the old wagon road out east of Rock Springs and wen t i n a northley direction. And the Lander’s Road crossed Green River si xt y miles north of the old emigrant road. I got 35 dollars per month . Thi rty dollars per month was the price paid to all the rest of the me n, bu t I, being a cook, got five dollars more. I cooked for 37 men . I ha d a young man to help me with wood, etc., but I did the work ver y comfort able and gave good satisfaction to the boss and the men. Whil e out there , I bought a horse off an Indian for about 25 dollars and gav e the hors e and ten dollars for a yoke of oxen. That was my first team. Arrived home early September and in the beginning of October, went to Ca m p Floyd to work chopping cord wood into four-foot lengths. Got two dol la rs per cord ad board. I worked there for about ten weeks. On the 20t h o f December, Uncle Joshua Brown and me started from camp for home. Th e fi rst night [we] camped about ten miles from Lehi . On the morning of the 21st, we started for Salt Lake City. It was a dre a dful cold morning—cold north wind blowing, we was on foot. After we h a d traveled about five miles, came to Jordan River. [It was] about thr e e rods wide ad three feet deep. While we was looking and wondering ho w w e was going to get over the river, the stage from Camp Floyd came alo ng a nd uncle Josh caught on and got over all right. But how was I goin g to g et over, for my boots was froze on my feet? But I went to a roc k and kic ked my boots, and they came off very nicely. And I took off al l of [my ] clothes but my shirt, and over I went. And as soon as I got o ut of th e water, my limbs was stiff and covered with ice . However, Uncle Josh and some other men was there in a log cabin, and th e y got some cold water and let me stand in a tub and poured water ove r m y legs and thawed me out, and in a few minutes I was alright again . An d we walked, or rather trotted, along as it was so cold we could no t kee p warm walking as we was very thing clad. The wind blew hard and v ery co ld, and sleet and rain. We passed several loads of hay turned ove r and s everal loads of wood turned over. Also, at about 10 o’clock at night we got to Little Cottonwood and walk e d into a house. There was a large fire. It was an old Englishman an d hi s wife that lived there. They had the table spread waiting for th e stag e to come with a number of passengers, the same stage that came t o us i n the morning at Jordan River. In coming along over to Cottonwood, the horses and driver could not fa c e the wind and storm, and the[y] drifted to the left and lost their roa d . My belief is that, being so cold they was drinking whiskey and was a l l drunk. However, at about eleven o’clock the stage arrives, and the o l d Englishman said we would have to give room for the passengers, so w e wa lked out, and it looked like we were facing death. One man by the n ame o f Lever from Salt Lake City was on his way home. He was wrapped u p i n a pair of good blankets and over shoes, and he said he was freezing . Bu t we told him to go in the house as we must go or we would sure free ze . But he followed after us, and he got off the road, and the next mor nin g Bro. Daniel Hill found him froze stiff . That night we arrived at Bro. Archie Gardner’s place. He run the gris t m ill at Big Cottonwood. We went up to the door of the house, a smal l hous e, and knocked. Sister Gardner came to the door. I asked if we c ould st op there for the night. She said, “Yes, come in.” And there mus t have b een 10 or 12 men in the house at the time who had sought shelte r from th e cold and the storm. And the woman said to these men, “Let th ese two bo ys come up to the stove, for they are about perished.” And sh e soon brou ght us a bowl of coffee and some bread and butter and molasse s, and it ca me in all right, as we was very hungry. [We] had not taste d food since s ix o’clock in the morning—and not a very good breakfast th en—but we fel t all right after eating supper. The good sister—for surel y she was one— she called George, the young man that lived with them an d had charge of t he carding mill under the grist mill, and said to Georg e, “take these tw o boys down to sleep with you in the carding room.” An d we went along an d had a good bed in the wool, soft and warm . We had not been in bed over two hours when the stage came along again, t h e same one that passed us in the morning and the same one that came t o Li ttle Cottonwood when we had to leave to make room for them. And i t looke d like we was going into the jaws of death when we went out of th e hous e there. But through our good courage or pluck, we got to a goo d place f or the night. And, as I was saying, the stage came along about one o’clock [at] nigh t , and [the people] came into the carding room, for they could not go a n y further that night, the cold wind and the sleet was so bad. And aft e r they got into the mill they was crying out, “Oh, my toes!” “Oh, my f in gers!” They were all froze. Some were. However, next morning we awo k e after a good night sleep and we started for Salt Lake City feeling al ri ght after our hard trip, not froze in any part of our body. Thus ende d o ne of the hardest trips of my life, and to come off so well for nex t da y we could read in the papers of men being froze to death all over t he co untry. And it stated that yesterday was the coldest winter ever wi tnesse d in Utah. After getting to the city, [I] found mother and Aunt Mary Ann, and the y w ondered how we survived. Uncle Joshua and Aunt Sarah lived in Farmin gton , but we remained in the city all winter, living in the Seventh Ward . Du ring the winter I attended the court proceedings, as Bro. James Fur geso n was being tried for intimidating the judge on the bench in the yea r 185 6. The case lasted for about 85 days, and I attended at least 60 d ays . It was a great case, but Furgeson was too smart a lawyer himself f or a ny of them. Hence, he won the case. During the winter I, in company with some others, went up in the gambli n g room and seen more gold stacked up in the center of the table tha n I ev er seen before or since. It was a square table, and four men wa s at th e table, two betting and dealing cards, and the other two exchang ed the c hecks according to the winning and losing. The money was not to uched; i t remained there as a bank. It was said 32,000 dollars was th e bank. Th ey played for about two days and nights. When one of them lo st, you neve r heard a word among the four men, but you could see a six s hooter by th e side of each man. I thought that looked terrible, becaus e I see the wa iter of the house keep bringing up four little glasses o f liquor, and I w ondered what would be the outcome. But all came out al right—one came ou t happy and the other perhaps miserable . But during that winter there was lots of gambling in Salt Lake City a n d a number of saloons and large stores going up everywhere, and wickedn es s of every name and kind was now in Utah. Camp Floyd was full of rott enn ess and evil of every description. And, I am sorry to say, our peopl e o f both sexes mixed up with them lar