I’D BE HONORED TO IRON JOHN TAYLOR’S SHIRTS:
THE STORY OF ELIZABETH DAVIES
by Martha E. Berg, her
Daughter, in 1956
Light Editing by
Elaine McIver
Elizabeth Davies & John Evans|
Thomas Evans &
Rachel Wright
Alphonzo (Phon) Nelson & Hortense Evans
Herman Nelson & Thora Mickelsen
Elaine Nelson & Walter McIver
The McIver Children and Grandchildren
This story begins in a beautiful, green land
called Wales, a small piece of the British empire
found in the southwestern part of the British Isles. Its history tells of
the many Welsh men who left the warm sunlight behind to begin their day*s work
in dark and dangerous coal mines. Under almost any circumstance, the people of Wales find
reason to sing and have long been known for their beautiful voices. If you took
a trip to Wales, you might be surprised at the foreign sound of their
native tongue and greatly pleased with the charm of the people. Learning to
spell Welsh place names is a challenge for the best of students.
In the country town of Llandulas, Breconshire, lived a
family by the name of Davies. The father's name was Joshua Davies. He possessed
a large estate and many herds of sheep, and was financially well to do.
In the family was one son, Thomas, and four or
five unmarried sisters, but he had the advantage of an education and was sent
away to school. Before leaving home he was engaged to be married to their
servant girl, who was the daughter of an official in the clergy.
After finishing school, Thomas returned home
and found there a new servant girl by the name of Ann Price, with whom he fell
in love, and fortunately for his sake, the feelings were mutual. So within a
short time they eloped, each mounting horseback and riding away to a neighboring
town to be married.
This complicated matters for Thomas, having to
make it right with the girl he was engaged to marry, and costing his father
quite a sum of money to clear it up.
After his father's death, Thomas became the
heir of the estate, but was also left the care of and responsibility for his
unmarried sisters.
To the union of Thomas Davies and Ann Price
was born a baby girl, whom they named Elizabeth. She was born on February
22, 1825, at Llandulas, Breconshire, Wales.
She was blessed with loving parents and
several brothers and sisters. Now having a family of his own plus the
responsibility of caring for his unmarried sisters, Thomas was somewhat
burdened financially; consequently very little is told of Elizabeth's
education and activities during her early life. There was little or no money
for her schooling.
The Church of England afforded her the
opportunity of learning to read the Bible, of which she took advantage. Also,
the training she received in her home and the benefit of her father being an
educated man helped her prepare for future responsibilities.
In her girlhood years she became interested in
the study of English history which she pursued whenever an opportunity came.
She acquired the practice of arising early in the morning for a study period
before time to begin her daily work. By this means she also studied the
scriptures, investigating the teachings of Jesus Christ.
In some unknown way she was introduced to the
Mormon missionaries. She was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints on August 18, 1848. After joining the Church she continued
the same practice of early morning study to familiarize herself with the
biographies of the leaders of the Church, both male and female.
Her father died in 1848, the same year she
joined the Church. After his death she went to the L.D.S. Mission Headquarters
in quest of work in the mission home. Brother William Phillips was the
president of the Welsh Mission in the progressive mining town of Merthyr. Elizabeth's personality attracted him; he
felt that she was the type of person he could rely on, and he accepted her
application. Here Elizabeth made her home and enjoyed her work.
At this home she had many opportunities to
meet influential people sent out to do missionary work. She met some of the
early Church officials who had been called to open up foreign missions in about
1850, as well as local missionaries assigned to labor in the same locality. It
was her privilege to meet Brother Lorenzo Snow, called to Italy, and
Brother John Taylor, going to France. These two brethren later became
presidents of the Church. Also, Erastus Snow came to visit on his way to the
Scandinavian mission. This made extra work at the home, and it was Elizabeth's
responsibility to serve their needs while there.
After the toil of a busy day in the mission
home, nightfall found her yet to do the ironing, which included the shirts for
the foreign missionaries. For Brother Taylor they were white pleated fronts to
be cold starched, taking her close to midnight to finish.
On returning home from his mission, Brother
Taylor came by way of the same mission home and brought the white shirts with
him for Elizabeth to launder again. She wondered why he made that
request of her. Then he said it was because she always knife-pleated them and
did that little trick just to suit him. He was very precise in his appearance.
She felt honored to please him.
Often cottage meetings were held at the mission
home, and also in private homes, which afforded opportunities to meet the
missionaries. Elizabeth met a number at these gatherings. One local
missionary in particular she picked out, by the name of John Evans, to be her
future husband, and he had the same impressions of her to be his future wife.
They were married at the mission home in Merthyr
Tydfil on November 15, 1852, by Frank James, an
attorney.
Merthyr at that time was a leading mining center,
supplying the iron ore to build railroads, bridges, etc. Her husband had
permanent employment in the mines, which provided them a very good livelihood.
So the couple made their home at Merthyr until the
desire came to emigrate to America.
On October 24, 1853, a baby was born to them
at Merthyr and was named Moroni.
They set sail from Liverpool, England, for America on
November 27, 1854, on the sailing vessel, "Clara Wheeler". Brother
Franklin D. Richards was then president of the European Mission, and became
well acquainted with the emigrants leaving for America. He came up the
river by steamboat and waved to them all a good-bye.
The voyage took about eight weeks owing to
stormy weather. The food provided on the ship was mostly sea biscuits, baked
before the journey started. The water was carried in large tanks, and became
very stale before they reached land.
Elizabeth was ill the entire voyage due
to sea sickness. Her baby also was very ill with measles that broke out on the
ship. Twenty-two babies died of this disease, and two adults died from other ailments
and were buried in the ocean.
There were no lights on the ship at night
whereby Elizabeth could watch over her sick baby. The
only way she could tell if he was still alive was by listening to his breathing
and feeling of his little face to know if it was still warm. She prayed
earnestly that her dear one might live until they reached land; she could not
bear the thought of having to bury him in the great ocean. She pleaded with a
wise Father, that if it was His will, that the child should not be taken yet;
then she would say, "Thy will be done." Her pleading was granted. The
baby lived until they reached St. Louis.
The company landed at New Orleans on
January 11, 1855. On January 22nd they were transferred to the steamboat
Oceania, and sailed up the Mississippi River to St. Louis, Missouri,
where they found a fine branch of the Church had been organized.
From St. Louis they moved to a small
suburban town called the Gravois, where her husband found work in the coal
mines. While living in that locality he was struck with malaria fever and much
of the time was unable to work.
About two weeks after they were partially
settled, their fifteen-month old baby, Moroni,
passed away. At the time her husband was away working and Elizabeth was
alone with the baby. It was night, and she had no lights, no conveniences, and
few of the necessities. So it was a task for her to know what to do about the
burial. A friend of theirs by the name of Williams had the same experience at
that time, in having to part with an infant. They buried the two babies in one
little grave, under the cover of night. This left Elizabeth and her husband
without family to help bear their pain, and they were feeling very
lonely.
On December 16, 1856, another son came to
gladden their home and they named him Thomas Maddock.
The following April 6, 1857, her husband and
others were called on a mission to move ahead to build new settlements for the
convenience of saints who were crossing the plains. They sailed up the Missouri
River to Florence (then called Winter Quarters), near Omaha, Nebraska.
From there they went by ox teams to a settlement a hundred miles away, called
Beaver Creek and later called Genoa. This was their destination. They
remained here about three years. They raised gardens and other food supplies
for the emigrants as they passed on their way to Utah. While there the Fishburn and Madsen families, and others, passed by, and
the assistance they received by partaking of the fresh vegetables was greatly
appreciated.
In 1858 her husband left his family at Genoa while
he went to a town called Muscatine, in Iowa, to work in a coal mine.
He was anxious to earn enough means to purchase ox teams and wagons and good
cows. Not long after he returned to his family, a prairie fire started on their
place.
Elizabeth had to leave the house with her
little three-year old boy. Her husband stayed to try to save the animals from
being burned. She was not well since another baby was due in a very short time,
so an Indian squaw carried her little boy down to the river bank, about three
miles away, remaining until the fire was out. The house and animals escaped,
but practically everything else burned, including their hay and grain. Without
the squaw*s help, Elizabeth could not have made it to the river bank with her
small boy and she could have lost her second son. John would have left the
animals for the boy had he realized that Thomas was in danger.
They subsisted mostly on buffalo meat and a
small garden. The corn froze before it was ripe, but they used it anyway by
grating it.
On December 6, 1857, a baby girl was born at Genoa and
named Ann Jane.
The government then took over this territory
as a reservation for the Pawnee Indians, making it necessary for them to leave Genoa hurriedly.
It was winter and very cold. They crossed the Loup Fork River on
the ice by ox team and wagon. It was February, and the ice had already started
to thaw, making it hazardous to cross. Soon after they had reached the river
bank the ice gave way. They camped here on the river bank for several
nights.
Elizabeth*s baby girl, just two months old,
had to be bathed outside of the wagon, beside a small camp fire for heat, while
her husband held a blanket around the mother and little infant for protection
against the cold.
One morning while
performing this duty they discovered a wolf on the opposite side of the river
and wondered just what path it would take, fearing that it might come toward
them. But God protected
them and the wolf took another course.
From here they traveled west about
seventy-five miles to Wood River, near Grand Island, Nebraska,
traveling alone through a desolate Indian country. On the prairie, as Elizabeth often
called it, she was left alone while her husband had business away from home,
either going far away for supplies or out hunting buffalo to supply the meat.
The Pawnee and Sioux Indians were now at war with each other, approximately
3,000 strong.
Elizabeth was left alone again with her
two little children, when one morning a band of warriors with painted faces,
mounted on horses, came toward their home riding around and around the house,
looking through the windows, and making hideous screechings.
She was most fearful as to what might happen as there were no locks on the
doors or windows for protection. She blockaded the door as best she could, praying in her heart that no harm would come to them. Again
her prayer was answered and they left without molesting them, only stealing all
the clothes from the clothesline as they rode away.
They remained at Wood River a
year and a half. When Elizabeth was left alone with her family, she
had the outside chores to do. The only help she had in the home was her little
boy to care for his young baby sister, the baby then in long clothes. He felt
very responsible and rocked her and sang to her in front of the open fireplace
which was their only source of heat and also used for preparing the food. One
morning after finishing the chores and coming into the house, she found the
baby's long clothes in flames. Her little nursemaid, unaware of what was
happening, was singing to the top of his voice. The clothes had burned nearly
to her little feet. Elizabeth immediately smothered the fire and
stripped the clothing from the baby. Little Tommy was still unaware of the
danger. She always expressed her gratitude for the hand of providence again
protecting them from what could have been a great catastrophe.
In stormy weather the prairie seemed desolate
and the wind never weary. She had no way to keep the outside door closed tight,
so in order to keep it from blowing open she would put little Tommy to sit on
the floor with his back against the door. This was a tiring, boring task for
the youngster if the storm lasted long.
By now the Civil War was underway, and
soldiers were passing their place often. Once a buffalo was
close in sight and John was about to shoot it. But he discovered it was
in line with a company of soldiers, so he thought it would not be safe to
shoot. The soldiers saw the situation, and they killed the buffalo and sent the
Evans family a goodly portion of it.
Elizabeth met many fine people on their
journey across the plains. Margaret McNeal and her sister became her fast
friends. Their mother had died on the journey, so they often came to Elizabeth's
home and became as attached to her as a mother. Margaret married and later
became the mother of Apostle Melvin J. Ballard. She also had a very good Irish
neighbor by the name of Mrs. Francis. She had two sons. When the family was
about to leave for Utah, Elizabeth urged them to go too.
"No," she said, "When we leave we'll go back to Rome,"
they being Catholics.
On account of war conditions an independent
company was organized to go to Utah. On July 8, 1861, the Evans were
finally able to start for Salt Lake City, quite well equipped with oxen,
wagons, cows, plows, two stoves (which was a rare thing in those days), plus a
number of other things.
They arrived in Salt Lake City on September 8,
1861, and went due north to the settlement of Call's Fort in Box Elder County,
where lived a sister-in-law by the name of Ann Powell and her family. The
location was where the Deam ranch is now located.
John and his family remained at the Powell home for several months and then
moved to Brigham City. They lived in a two-room house in the tithing
yards.
While living in this small home a very serious
accident happened to the first little daughter in the family, Ann Jane, then about three years old. Elizabeth had been
making lye from wood ashes, which they were accustomed to do for culinary
purposes. She had lifted the vessel off the stove and put it outside to cool
when Annie, as she was called, for some unknown reason ran to the door, peered
over the edge of the vessel, and fell face forward into it. Hearing her screams,
her mother ran and pulled her out. Immediately the child grabbed her mother's
apron to wipe her face, which took all the skin off. The distracted mother, not
knowing what to do, was impressed to pour a pitcher of molasses that was on the
kitchen table, all over her face and then coated it with a heavy application of
flour, making a mask covering her little face. She was rocked in a cradle for
weeks, and they were fearful that she would never see again. Finally, when the
burn was healed and the mask came off, it left her without a scar or blemish
and she could see as well as ever.
In relating this experience to Elizabeth's
family doctor in later years, he said it was because she kept the air from
crusting the burned flesh that saved her from being scarred.
Later they purchased a lot on the corner of Forest and
Third West streets, on which there was a two-room cellar. This property was
formerly owned by Brother Thomas Slatter, and was
where the tennis court is now located.
They disposed of this property and moved one
block east and one and a half blocks north, purchasing an adobe house with four
rooms. This was their permanent home. However, some years later it was
remodeled to make additional rooms for the needs of the family.
A great sorrow came to their home, in the
death of their adorable son, Josh, as he was always called. He was just past
eleven years old, and taken suddenly with diphtheria, and ill
only a short time. Since it was a highly contagious disease, he was buried the
same night.
This was a sad ordeal for Elizabeth to
have to go through. He loved to read good books, and any money he earned he
saved to buy books with. He was at the head of his classes in school, and
registered in all of the advanced arithmetic classes being taught at that time.
He received honorary diplomas for outstanding school work. In all the trials Elizabeth had
to meet, this parting seemed hardest for her to become fully reconciled to. Her
daughter, Martha, remembers her singing, "Thou art gone from my gaze, like
a beautiful dream," which seemed to give her solace.
At April conference in 1880, at Salt Lake
City, her husband was called on a two-year mission to his native land, Wales.
He left on the 13th day of the same month. While he was away their daughter,
Ann Jane, was married to John H. Forsgren. She had a
baby girl, born May 11, 1881, named Sarah Cleofa;
then in three months Ann died--on her first wedding anniversary. In one short
year she was a bride, a mother, and a dead woman.
Elizabeth was no longer a young woman.
When the baby's father asked her to take the baby, small and frail, saying,
"You have raised one good girl for me, and now I'd like to have you raise
another," she was happy to do so and her children all rallied to help her
as best they could. She also cared for the baby's father, who was prostrate
with grief at the time.
A few years later she was called upon to part
with another fair daughter, Mary Elizabeth who had married to John W. Irons. He
died a few years before Mary Elizabeth. They had a little daughter, Clara.
After his death she and her mother came to Brigham City to make their
home with grandmother. Clara was five years old when she became an orphan, left
for Elizabeth to raise. These little girls
grew up to womanhood and were always included as members of the family.
In early years a goodly number of Welsh people
settled in Box Elder County, especially at Willard, where they promoted a
number of Eisteddfods, a festival of English and Welsh poetry and music. At one
of these gatherings Elizabeth wrote and read an original essay.
Many times Elizabeth burned the
midnight oil waiting for her husband and two sons to return from the canyon,
where they had gone before daylight to get the winter's supply of wood. She
would stand by the gate in the moonlight, hoping to hear some encouraging sound
or see in the distance their safe return.
After coming to Brigham City in
1861, materials and food were scarce and prices high due to Civil War
conditions. Elizabeth tells of paying twenty-five cents for a spool
of thread, and one dollar a pound for butter.
An opportunity came to her to visit her sister
in Eastern Kansas. She and her little granddaughter left Salt Lake
City on May 5th, 1885, on the D & RG (Denver & Rio Grande) train,
and were met at Burlingame, Kansas, by her sister whom she had not
seen for over forty years. Ten years afterward the same sister and her husband
came to Utah to visit Elizabeth. Her brother-in-law could not
understand the waste of so much good soil being used in making high mountains,
and said, "Just see how many corn fields they would make." Eastern
Kansas was flat country with only rolling hills.
And in another ten years Elizabeth made
a second trip to Kansas with her other little granddaughter, Clara,
then about ten years old. At that time her son, John G., was on a mission to
the Southern States, and he became very ill with malaria fever. He was advised
by his mission president to take a sick leave and go to his aunt's home in Kansas,
where he could be cared for by his mother until able to take up his labors
again.
Throughout her lifetime, Elizabeth never
owned a sewing machine. Every stitch of sewing for the family was done by hand.
The comment of some of her neighbors, who knew best, was that her family looked
as well dressed as those who had that convenience.
Frugality was one of Elizabeth's
characteristics. With their small income she had the gift of making a good meal
with little cost. She always prepared Christmas dinner for her children and
grandchildren. Her eldest son, Thomas, said, "She could grease a rock and
make the best soup anyone ever ate."
She was courageous. In her advanced years more
than once she had to undergo the ordeal of surgery without an anaesthetic of any kind and hardly flinched under the
surgeon's knife or needle.
She was a Relief Society teacher for many years, and when given an assignment was always willing to
serve. A custom of the Relief Society organization was the saving of Sunday
eggs. If she couldn't make a certain dish or sell a dozen eggs without taking
from the Sunday egg basket, the endeavor was canceled. Tithing and fast
offerings were the first obligations paid from the family income. She was
modest and composed, even in trying situations.
She had titian hair (brownish orange) and
light blue eyes. Her husband had dark hair and brown eyes. They were both
blessed with good singing voices, and used to sing duets together at times in
the Bowery and the old Court House.
On November 15, 1902, they celebrated their
golden wedding anniversary. A wedding supper was given at the home in their
honor by members of the family, with a number of close friends and neighbors as
guests. Ten years afterward this favored couple celebrated their 60th wedding
anniversary at the home of the granddaughter, Clara, whom Elizabeth had
raised from childhood, and her good husband J. Scott Jenson. The couple was
privileged to live together for sixty-two years of married life.
Elizabeth loved to read good books and
current newspapers. During the years that Brother Owen Jones, their blind mail
carrier, was going on his daily mail route, he would come to the Evans home
each morning as soon as the mail he was to take out had been delivered to him
at the post office, and Elizabeth would prepare his breakfast. Then
she would read for him the names on the letters and papers, just to refresh his
memory after receiving the mail from the post office; then he would continue on
his way. In the evening he often returned to have her read for him. He, too,
appreciated good reading and good literature.
When the children had all married and left
home, Elizabeth still had her two little granddaughters with her, who
were still small and needed much attention. Elizabeth never lost an
opportunity to train them in practical things or to encourage them in taking
advantages in an educational way. Above all, their attendance in the Church
organizations was always uppermost in their training.
Elizabeth was the only one in a family of
ten children who joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She
loved it, and it was ever dear to her heart.
She lived to be eighty-nine years of age. Four
children preceded her in death. Her husband and three children survived her,
also thirteen grandchildren and a number of great-grandchildren. Since her
passing, her two remaining sons have been called home, leaving but one leaf on
the family tree, the youngest daughter, Martha Madora,
now in her eighty-sixth year.
Elizabeth's husband, all of her living
children, the two granddaughters, and all of their wives and husbands,
were at the bedside to witness the spark of life take its flight to the Great
Beyond, on May 2, 1914. She was dearly beloved.
