Davis, Thomas A. - Autobiography

TITUS DAVIS by his son Thomas Davis Life History of Titus Davis and Mary Gwenllian Bowen. Written by Their Sixth Child, Thomas Ap. Davis Before his Death 21 April, 1926.

The writer, Thomas Ap. Davis, was born June 10, 1849 at the village of Drefach, Cardiganshire, South Wales. I was the sixth child born to Titus Davis and Mary Gwenllian Bowen. Two children born before me died at the age of a few months. They were named Josiah Bowen and Evan Thomas Davis. Another child born after me also died at a tender age and was named Daniel John Davis. The children following were John Henry and Jenkin, who had a twin sister, Hannah, that was a stillborn child. Then after some years Henry John was born and remained the baby of the family. I should now write the names of the older children. They were Josiah Bowen Davis, David Lazarus Davis, Timothy Bowen Davis and Gwenifred Davis.

At the time of this writing Timothy Bowen Davis, Gwenifred Davis Edwards and Jenkin Davis have died. Alas, I know but little about my people in Wales.

My father, Titus Davis, was raised by his grandfather on a farm. His mother's name was Dianna Jones. She was married a second time and raised a son named Timothy who migrated to the United States at an early age. All traces of him have been lost. No record of my father's birth is available, but at the time the Waterloo battle was fought he was a good sized young man and could remember his uncles talking to each other about the possibility of Napoleon defeating the British. His home was near the village Llandisil in the Teivil River Valley, Tivie being one of the principal streams of Wales.

More is known of my mother's people, as they resided in the locality for many years. Mother, Mary Gwenllian Bowen, was born on a small farm near Llanwenog Church. It was called Maesyfelin, meaning the mill field. At her home there was a water power mill for the purpose of fullering flannel goods. My mother's people were engaged in the manufacture of the famous Welsh Flannel, as well as running the small farm. She was an only daughter, and had everything her heart desired. She had her own riding pony and saddle; she attended all the mounted weddings in the neighborhood, and, consequently, was a fine horsewoman. She also possessed a fine voice, and was a very fine singer, and it was at choir practice that she first met my father, he being the singing master at the choir practice. However, with the humdrum of the old mill, small wonder that she was such a fine singer.

Upstream a mile from her home was the turnpike road, of the King's Highway. Across the stream there was a stone bridge of two arches. This particular bridge was a meeting place for all the gossipers of the vicinity. Less than a mile again upstream is the village of Drefach where I was born. The village is situated on the eastern side of the narrow valley. The center of the valley is mostly meadow land, with some oak timber growing in spots. The stream furnishing the water power for the mill at Maesyfelin flows on down this narrow valley and supplies the people with good fishing, and also operates a grist mill just above the bridge. The building on the little farm which my parents rented was very old and dilapidated and the landlord refused to make repairs. This is when my father first wanted to go to the United States, but mother could not sever her love for the old home nearby, and the graves of her babies, and so they looked for a new place several miles beyond the river in another county. This was taken as a last resort. The place was not satisfactory as it was too small and isolated. The only fuel we had was peat. The home was small and humble and not desirable for a home. Therefore, the family only remained here one year. My brother, Jenkin, and a twin sister, Hannah, were born here. In my child's mind I realized that something very serious had taken place for my mother was reported very sick, and a carpenter was there making a tiny little coffin into which the body of twin daughter, Hannah, was placed. My father and the carpenter carried the little casket to Llanwenog, and it was laid beside our other small babies. This was a sad experience for a woman well brought up to have in a strange place.

The following summer my parents found a more desirable place to live, but it was farther from our birthplace. This was a better locality to live in. We were within four miles of the thriving city of Llandilo, and I believe my mother was happy there. At any rate, I never remember hearing my mother complain. In this new home my brother, Henry John, was born. It may be well for me to state here that my father was a shoemaker by trade, and the little farm being small, it necessitated his going from home to work a good part of the time. This was very necessary to secure money with which to pay the rent and keep the family.

About the year 1858, something took place that disrupted our family. My father was at Dowlais working at his trade. Also, my oldest brother, David Lazarus, was there working at a mercantile house. They both became members of a new sect called the Latter-Day Saints, the new religion, or new church, perhaps I should say. To this my mother was very much opposed as in years passed she knew a good many people who had joined the Latter-Day Saints and left the country for America, but many had died of sickness and hardships on the way. Mother knew that it was the custom of the Latter-Day Saints to gather with the body of their church in the United States. Therefore, she feared that father would in time to do the same, and want to take the family along with him to that new place of gathering. It must be said here that mother was a devout member of the Baptist Church; born and raised in the church. One of its principal rituals was baptism by immersion, in the like manner of John of old baptizing the Messiah in the River Jordan. Therefore, she reasoned it was not necessary for her to leave her own church and join a new movement in which baptism by immersion was also practiced. Notwithstanding that father declared to her that he knew the new church was right, she firmly, on the other hand, declared to him that she knew equally well her church was the right church. In this way they discussed religion for some months. During most of this time father was located at Dowlais. These discussions took place during his visits at home. It, therefore, became evident to mother that father would in the near future migrate to the United States, and most likely would want to take a part, or all of the family along with him. To her it became a very serious question whether she should go along, or remain in her native land.

One fact must not be overlooked--that she sought counsel of her church minister, and her many relatives, and they all said with one voice that it was her duty to remain, and not go to Utah were polygamy was practiced and religion was a mockery. This line of argument prevailed. She firmly made up her mind to remain with her own church, which she did to the day of her death. Her co-religionists showed her marked respect by carrying her remains a good distance to the ancient cemetery at Talley, and laid her to rest near the ruins of the old cathedral.

Some are inclined to censure mother for refusing to accompany the family to the new land. To do her justice, the reader must reason that at the time the venture was a very uncertain one. The journey was long, and reports had come back to Wales of many deaths on the way. All these reports held to deter her from consenting to go with the family. However, father began to make preparations for the move. By this time, my older brother, Timothy Bowen Davis, had located at Dowlais and worked as a miner, and he had also joined the Latter-Day Saints Church. He, also, was in favor of migrating. Timonthy had taken upon himself a certain amount of ground to work, and to extract the iron ore from the same. To do this in time to go to the United States it was necessary for him to have help, so I was sent to help him. My mother made me some flannel drawers and shirts to wear in the mines, and other ways made me look respectable, so one morning I was ready to go. Just who accompanied me, or how I traveled to the nearest town where there was a stage, I do not remember. It is all forgotten, but I do remember mother came up the narrow lane to the road with me and there said goodbye. That was the last I ever saw of her in this world. I was too young to realize the situation, too excited with the thought of going on a trip from home, that I never thought that I was parting with my mother forever.

Arriving in Dowlais, I worked with my brother, Timonty, in the mine, and I think I did good service until I was injured by a fall off the top. I recovered from that after some weeks of confinement in the house. During this time it was thought best of my father that we rent a house to live in instead of boarding as we had been doing, and so my only sister, Gwenifred, was sent to keep house. Also, a younger brother, John Henry, came to live with us. It must be noted here that after my sister, Gwenifred, and my brother, John Henry, had left home there was no one left with my mother except Jenkin and little Henry John. Jenkin was seven years of age and Henry John about four years old. Mother had 5 or 6 cows to care for and feed, and she had to carry her eggs and butter to town some four miles. She also had to perform all other work that was to be done on the place regardless of its character. The outlook was discouraging to say the least. Preparations had now been made for our departure for the United States in the spring of 1863. In a conference of the saints at Merthyr, Tydvil, my oldest brother, David Lazarus, was called on a mission, and was to remain in Wales a year longer. This was a great disappointment to father as David, who had lived with an English speaking family for several years, could speak English better than the balance of us, but we had to submit. Father and David went to see mother about the first of May and, if possible, prevail on her to come along, but the time was now too short for her to prepare had she been disposed to go. It was now known that David was to remain in the country another year, and hopes were entertained that she would come at the end of the year. It was arranged for Jenkin to remain with mother, but Henry John was taken along. Jenkin would be of help to her. I must here state that my mother must have possessed a rare balance of mind or she would have torn the universe to shreds before giving up her baby to be taken, that she perhaps never could see him again. She could have raised the neighborhood, and in an hour of time could have had a mob of farmers there to protect her and her two children, but no she submitted to be bereft of her children, and even walked with them to the railroad station and quietly bade them goodbye. She then took little Jenkin by the hand and walked home. She was surely one woman in ten thousand. I do not propose to discuss the right and wrong of the matter, but it seems to me that someone will be held responsible for the manner of which mother was robbed of her children, for the heartaches she endured in her lonely home. It is gratifying here to say that no doubt her rest is peaceful along with the little fellow who comforted her in her isolation in sight of the old cathedral at Talley.

I have not the date of our departure for America, but it was in the early part of May, 1863. We left Dowlais one fine morning and walked down to Merthyr to take the train to Cardiff. Along with us there were several families of saints also bound for Zion. The run down to the old town did not take long, and we found ourselves and our small amount of baggage on the platform there waiting for someone to convey us to the place where we were to remain overnight. While waiting thus, a couple of tall, fine looking men came along and asked where we were going. We told them that we were going to America. At this they seemed to be pleased. One of them pointing to myself and my brother, John Henry, said, "These two boys are going over at a good age. They are young enough to make good Americans and old enough to always remember something of their native land." He told us that they were Americans in Wales buying coal and railroad iron. He also said there was now a war in their country, but after awhile he said, "There will be peace." That night we spent in the hall where the Cardiff saints were in the habit of holding Sunday meetings. The next morning we left for the train. As we were seating ourselves in the little cars the women were weeping for husbands that they were leaving behind, but who were to follow in the near future. We arrived in London early in the afternoon. The country we passed through was level and in great contrast to the hills of Wales. Reaching London we found a great many saints at the large depot, all having come from various sections of England, and also Scotland.

Our baggage was soon placed upon some very large wagons, or trucks, and the people climbed on top. I looked for a place to ride, but failed to find any space where I could sit or cling. I concluded that I would cling boy-like to the rear of one of the big trucks, and away they went over the stone pavement. It never occurred to me that London was a rather large village, but I began to think it was some distance through, and after traveling at a good canter for about one and a half hours, they stopped to water the horses. During this drive I had been missed and father came back along the line looking for me. He asked if I had been running behind the wagon all the time. I answered that I had. We had then gone over eight miles. He took me forward and asked a fellow up on a high seat if I could come up and ride with with him. He said, "Yes, send him up." Father explained that I had been running behind all the time. Then there was an order given for some beer, and I had a good drink of English beer. In front of us it was all building as far as the eye could see until we turned to the right, and soon all we could see were the masts of ships in the docks. One very large one near the landing was said to be the one to take us across the ocean. The ship that was to carry us to the United States was an American built ship named "Amazon." She was a splendid vessel in every way--new, fast, and had four masts. The crew consisted of a captain, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th mates, and about 75 sailors. We remained four or five days in London aboard the ship before sailing. During this delay my sister, Gwenifred, became homesick. She suddenly realized that she, too, was leaving mother behind. She wept bitter tears, and finally father said she could return home. He said he would take her to the railroad station and buy her a ticket to Llandilo, then from there she knew the four miles of road well, as she was nearly 15 years of age. Finally, by some of the friendly women consoling her with the hope that her mother would come next year, she became pacified and consented to continue on. It was a sore trial for all of us to see our only sister weeping so, but our family was not the only one in tears. The greater portion of the eleven hundred saints aboard were weeping. Finally, the brass band from Cardiff began to play. I will never forget how red were the eyes of Rice Hancock, who played the tuba. He was the life of the whole company, and a noble fellow. Finally, the time was fixed for sailing, and father went and took a stroll for the last time on the soil of his native land. He loved the "noble woman" who reigned over the land, and could well remember the time, though but a girl she ascended the throne of Britain. The next morning the great ship was pulled from her moorings in the dock, and by rope pulleys she was pulled out in to the Thames River and the great locks closed behind her. During this time the band was playing "Hail Columbia," "The Star Spangled Banner," and "Yankee Doodle." The docks and the river bank were lined with people; some cheered, some groaned. We were assited down stream by a steam tug. She took us far enough so the breeze could take effect upon the great sails. After this the tug left us. On board the tug were George Q. Cannon and other prominent saints.

The next day we could see no land in sight, and our anchor was dropped and we waited for a small ship that came with our water supply. They then hoisted the anchor and we sailed on our way. The captain had promised that we would be in New York by the 4th of July, but by continual contrary winds he could not make time, and it was the 18th of July when we reached the port of New York, some two days after the anti-negro riots had occurred there. After our ship anchored, two gun boats laden with soldiers went by with full speed. They had been sent to quell the rioters, which they did in short order. The journey across had been very monotonous, taking nearly nine weeks to make the journey. The health of most of the people on the voyage was fairly good. One child was buried at sea. My brother, Timothy, was very sick nearly all the way. It was supposed that he had Typhoid Fever. He was attended by the ship's doctor, and whenwe reached New York he was just able to walk. Thus, father was deprived of the assistance of his two oldest sons. David remained in Wales, and Timothy, disabled by sickness, had to be nursed and cared for like a child. However, the doctors passed him at New York. The next day we landed at Castle Garden, and our names, ages, and destinations were taken. The officials there treated us with very kind consideration and courtesy. the next day we were taken up the Hudson River and boarded a train for Albany. It was war time and our progress was very slow. At Detroit a little girl belonging to a Dowlais family died, and was taken and buried by the city. The family had come alone, the father remaining behind. themother was the wife of Thomas Davis, President of the Dowlais Branch. The remaining members of the family were nearly all little girls, the oldest being only about 15 years of age. It was surely a sad trial for that mother to thus leve one of her loved ones so soon on the journey.

Soon after leaving detroit we were detoured into Canada because the railroads were congested. It was war time and food was almost impossible to secure. Whenever a stop was made, father immediately went in search of food. By making many stops we finally reached St. Joseph, on the Missouri, having made the last leg of the journey in stock cars. The rebels had burned all the passenger coaches in that section. At St. Joseph we took a boat for Florence, called WINTER QUARTERS in Mormon history. It took the boat several days to make the trip as the water was slow, the boat making many stops. We finally reached the vicinity of Florence, and for the first time we saw Utah men and ox teams. Our baggage was loaded on wagons. the land was very sandy on the river bottom, and it required a good use of the whip by the teamsters to make the fat oxen pull the wagons up the bluffs to the higher land. Florence only consisted of a few log buildings. Most of them were vacant. However, we were glad to get there and rest for a few days. We received rations which consisted of some fat bacon and a little flour with a package of salaretus. With these we tried to do some cooking. Our bread was a complete failure, as we were inclined to put too much salaretus in it, but we learned to use sour dough by and by, and in that way were able to make a better article. A couple of days after our arrival at Florence we were taken out to the camp of the Utah boys, some five or six miles out. It happened that among the young men sent to take us and our few articles of baggage out to the main camp, my father recognized one John L. Edwards, who had come out a few years before from near Llanwenog, or the very vicinity of Drefach where I was born. This was the second trip for Mr. Edwards to make from Utah to the Missouri River after the saints, and father was exceedingly happy in meeting one whom he knew. It was agreed we were to go with Mr. Edwards as a part of the company allotted to him. After being established at the camp, we began to prepare for the journey across the plains. We had to buy a few cooking utensils. Before starting we were requested to sign a note obligating ourselves to pay to the perpetual emigration company the sum of forty dollars each upon our arrival at Salt Lake, or as soon thereafter as possible, with ten percent interest until paid in full. We were happy to learn the little band that was with us aboard the Amazon was to be with us again crossing the plains. The captain of our company was a man by the name of Thomas Ricks, and he was a very energetic man, too. It required nearly two weeks to prepare for the start, as they were waiting for freight to haul to Salt Lake. The wagons were loaded with merchandise for the merchants of Salt Lake, and the people were to walk.

I have not the date of our start, but the weather was wet and rainy. The oxen were in splendid condition, having been on good grass, and they remained so all the way. The wagons numbered about one hundred. The form of the camp at night was oblong, with an opening in the front and one at the rear. In driving in for camp, the lead team would stop at a place indicated by the captain or his aid, and the next wagon would stop so that its front wheels would be just near the rear of the first wagon. This would be so until half of the wagons would be lined in a half circle. Then the teamster of the other section of the train would drive to a spot about 75 or 100 feet from and abreast of the leading wagon on the other side. The yokes and chains of the second section would be on the outside, usually, to be handy. In the morning they would be carried to the inside of the circle. In the morning the oxen would be driven in at the rear of the enclosure. When so driven in it was the custom of the boys to go in search of the oxen belonging to their wagons and drive them near so the teamsters could place the yokes on their necks. It did not take long to have our outfit ready. After being on the trip a week or two, I was a good teamster and did a good part of the driving. When I got so that I could pop the whip good and loud, I felt that I was a real bullwhacker. Each wagon usually had from four to six yokes of oxen, according to the load and size of the wagon. Walking gave us a tremendous appetite, and our rations were really half what they should have been. Timothy, just recovering from his long sickness, could have devoured the food of the whole family. Father tried his luck at fishing, but with poor success. The first stream of any importance we arrived at was called Loopfork. This stream we had to cross by ferry boat. It was here we saw the first American Indians, and they were nearly naked. After crossing the Loopfork, we soon came to Wood River, a small stream, where the various companies had supply depots for the return trip. There was also a store here. Up until this time there were few scattered settlers to be seen, but we soon came to the Platt River Valley, and then there were no more except military stations long distances apart. I presume this stretch of coutry is really the " plains" so much spoken of, for there is a very great sameness to it day after day. We followed the river for a great many days. The water was low, mostly in the sand. The road finally was farther away from the river and we saw less of it. We finally reached Platt Bridge. At this point there was quite a strong garrison of soldiers guarind the mail, and watching the Indians. In my memory I have only one really sunny spot to mention. It was a beautiful afternoon. My brother, John Henry, and a aboy by the name of Joseph Jenkins were on the road far in advance of the company when a team of four mules came along with some soldiers in the wagon. We quickly caught ahold of the wagon end--the road being good we could easily keep up. We commenced singing an old song, " My Old Kentucky Home." We finished singing the song and the wagon came to a sudden stop. The officer said, " Come up here, boys," and we gladly climbed up among them and then sang everything we knew. They gave us hardtack and sugar to eat. After a time we were afraid they would carry us farther than our company would travel that day, but they said, " No, your captain is ahead of us. You need not fear. We will put you down on the place he selects for a camp," and they did. We gathered a fine lot of sagebrush for a campfire, and gave Mr. George Harding, the mess cook, some brush upon the arrival of the campany. For this, we got a fresh flapjack for supper. It may be well for me to state who composed our mess. They were all Willard, Utah, men. There was first George Harding in command. Then came John L. Edwards, John Taylor, Edward Morgan, George Rees, and George Ward. Willard sent those men and supplied them with teams, wagons, and food for all free. These men were frontiersmen and were accustomed to travel, or fighting Indians. Mr. Harding was cook all the time, and the others were on guard duty, gathered wood, fixed fires, and carried water. Their food was not ratioined out to them. They could eat all they desired, while we were in half famished condition all the time. Our sister did the cooking, and did the very best she could to make the small rations go around. I am satisfied she often went hungry herself. We were very fortunate in 1863 as the Indians were peaceful and never molested us on any of the journey.

We were now getting into a high altitude and the weather was cooler at night. We slept on the ground under the wagon. Our sister slept in the wagon under the covers with little Henry John and Mary Jones, who later became the wife of George Harding. I have written but little of our brother, Henry John. He must have suffered many a want. He was such a meek little child, always satisfied, but he had to subsist on such plain food. Had he had the care of a mother on this tiresome journey, he might have fared better. We finally reached that part of Wyoming so famous for bad storms, and we certainly got our share of snow and wind. We did not sleep pthat night as the snow blew over our bedding, but we were finally shown water that flowed to the Pacific Ocean and the weather became milder. We reached and finally crossed Green River and entered Echo Canyon, having passed Fort Bridger and other famous land marks, such as Independence Rock, Chimney Rock, which I can remember seeing at a distance. I did not see Pulpit Rock where Brigham Young preached his first sermon in Utah. At the mouth of Echo Canyon we turned South and camped that night not far from the little settlement of Coalville. The next morning we passed through this settlement, and leaving the valley of the Weber, turned westward into the mountains again. We made our camp somewhere in the region where Park City is now situated. Starting early the next morning without breakfast in order to make Salt Lake city before noon, we crossed the divide separating the waters of the Weber and those flowing into the valley near Salt Lake City. We left Mill Creek Canyon and crossing a divide drove down into Emigration Canyon and out onto the foothills near Fort Douglas, and in sight of the city of Salt Lake. The train drove into Emigration square about noon on the 8th of October, 1863, and camped. We remained in Salt Lake a couple of days unloading freight, then left for the north, reaching Willard at noon on the third day. About two miles south of Willard we met Mr. John Edwards, Sr., on a gray pony. He was glad to meet my father, whom he knew so well in Wales, and we were glad to reach our destination after such a long and weary journey. Mr. Edwards took our family to his home, where his wife had prepared a fine dinner of which we heartily partook. Having met John L. Edwards at Florence, and forming a part of his quota of people across the plains, it was natural that we go with him to his home settlement and make Willard the place to establish ourselves in the land. It seemed that it was to be so, for in time John Lodwick Edwards married my sister, Gwenifred, on November 21, 1863. I was also destined to marry Margaret E. Davis, who was born in Willard.

In 1869, now being able to do a man's work, I, in company of a friend, Thomas Pierce, went to Weber Canyon to work. The Union Pacific Railroad was being built westward from the Missouri River. We carried our blankets and walking the first day from Willard, we made our camp on the foothills southeast of Ogden City and slept on the ground among the oak brush. Starting early the next day, we walked into the canyon. We were offered work at a number of places, but we had our own plans. We were given a ride by a young man who was going to Coalville after coal, and at about 6 o'clock we stopped at the camp of some Spanish Fork people who had taken a large contract, and needed some good men. My friend, Thomas Pierce, knew several of the Spanish Fork men. To my delight, I found a friend from Dowlais by the name of David Evans, who had come out the year after us, and I soon became acquainted with a man by the name of Howel Davis, who was the husband of a woman and the father of several children who were on the train with us leaving Cardiff, and were with us at the time we crossed the ocean. In this camp were quite a number of men from Wales, and a number from England. On Sundays we were kept busy writing letters for them. My brother, John Henry, was working for Sharp and Young in Echo Canyon, and when he learned that we were down the Weber a little way, he came down and joined us. We built us a shanty to sleep in. Late in December Thomas Pierce became sick and had to go home. My brother and I remained until the work was completed, and then started for Salt Lake to spend Christmas. Carrying our bedding, we walked to Morgan and slept in some grainery building. There were three of us -- my brother, John Henry, myself, and a Scotch boy whose name I have forgotten. Coming out of Weber Canyon we turned south along the mountain road. About noon we became hungry, and somewhere east of Kaysville on the high road, we entered a house and asked for some dinner. There were two elderly women there who became interested at once, but said they had nothing to eat themselves. We told them we had plenty of money, so we planned a dinner. The women had some chickens, and we soon caught one and had it cooking. The Scotch boy went about a mile and bought some bread. We paid the women liberally for our dinner, and went on south through Farmington, Centerville and Bountiful. It was getting late and we wanted to reach halfway house. This was a hostelry well remembered by old timers. They made us welcome and we had supper with the family although it was late. We were glad to be so near the end of our journey that we commenced to sing. We sang together and in turns "Ten Nights in a Bar Room" -- a popular new song. Finally, the host came into our room with a jug of beer and some glasses and treated us for singing. He said it was the best ever done in this house. Next morning, after an early breakfast, we started for the city , it being our first visit since coming in 1863. After resting in Willard, we went to work for Thomas E. Jeremy at the Hot Springs. After we finished our work we went to the Promontory Point where we entered the employ of John L. Edwards. My brother, John Henry, and I homesteaded land there when we became of age.

New information found since the death of Thomas Ap. Davis was added to this history to make it true and correct to the best of our knowledge.

The full particulars of the activities of this family for a few short years after their arrival in Willard are not known. However, we do know that Titus Lazarus Davis and his daughter, Gwenifred, settled in Willard, Utah. He was a shoemaker by trade and, as all Welsh people, a fine singer, being a choir leader in Wales. He sacrificed much for his family and religion, coming to America with his five sons and one daughter, leaving his wife and one child in Wales. She never joined the church and died a few years after he left. It was a sad and lonely life for both. Titus Lazarus was born August 8, 1806 at Llanwenog, Cardiganshire, South Wales. He married Mary Bowen, born January 6, 1819 at Maesyfelin, near Llanwenog. She died January 29, 1870 at Blamnantillwyd (Cremdu), South Wales, and was buried at Talley, Cardiganshire, South Wales. Titus L. died April 12, 1898 at Willard, Utah, and was buried in the Willard Cemetery.

Josiah Bowen was born September 8, 1839 at Llanwenog, and died in November, 1839.

David Lazarus was born January 21, 1841, at Llanwenog, Cardiganshire, South Wales. After filling a mission in Wales he emigrated to Utah in 1864 and settled in Salt Lake City, Utah. In November, 1865, he married Hannah Jeremy. In 1866 he married Esther Jeremy. They were daughters of Thomas E. and Sarah Evans Jeremy. He was the father of eleven children. After being in the employ of Wm. Jennings and Z.C.M.I., for several years, he became a member of the firm of Barney & Davis, which carried on an extensive business on East Temple Street. He died April 20, 1926, and was buried in Salt Lake City.

Timothy Bowen was born September 18, 1842 at Llanwenog, Cardiganshire, South Wales. He settletd in Logan, Utah. He married Charlotte Hayball, a daughter of Jacob Hayball, in Logan June 27, 1887. He was in business with his brother, John Henry. Two or three months after his marriage, he was called to serve a mission in Wales. He was happy for the opportunity of visiting his family there once again. He died April 21, 1916 in Logan, and was buried in Logan. His wife died in Salt Lake City, December 19, 1923. She, also, was buried in the Logan City Cemetery. Following the death of Timothy Bowen his family sold the business and moved to Malad, Idaho.

Gwenifred was born July 15, 1844 at Drefach, Cardiganshire, South Wales. After the family settled in Willard, Utah, she married John Lodwick Edwards, November 21, 1863. He was engaged in the farming and livestock business. It is interesting to note that Mr. Charles Dickens was a press representative on the boat out of Liverpool, and that he mentioned Gwenifred Davis in one of his books. He was much impressed by her singing and wanted to have her study voice. He said he would make her another Jenny Lind. Gwenifred died February 14, 1912 in Willard. Her husband died December 15, 1920 in Los Angeles, California. They were both buried in Willard. John Lodwick was born July 2, 1838, Llanwenog, Cardiganshire, South Wales.

Evan Thomas was born May 28, 1848 and died in September, 1948 in Drefach, Cardiganshire, South Wales.

Thomas Ap. was born June 10, 1849 in Drefach, Cardiganshire, South Wales. He married Margaret E. Davis of Willard April 10, 1871. He homesteaded on Promontory Point, raised a large family, and later moved to Malad, Idaho. He was engaged in farming and raising livestock. He entered politics and was elected to the State Legislature and also the State Senate. In the summer of 1897 he was appointed Mineral Commissioner for Idaho by President William McKinley. His wife died October 29, 1921. He died April 21, 1926. They are both buried in Malad, Idaho.

John Henry was born August 9, 1852 in Drefach, Cardiganshire, South Wales. He settled in Logan, Utah. At one time he was in business with his brother, Timothy Bowen. He married Martha Williams of Logan September 29, 1887. In 1897 he was called on a mission, to labor in Pennsylvania. He died May 5, 1928, and was buried in the Logan City Cemetery. His wife died March 22, 1943 and was also burired in the Logan City Cemetery.

Daniel John was born April 17, 1851 at Drefach, and died the same year.

Jenkin and Hannah were born June 18, 1855, at Drefach. Hannah was still-born. Jenkin remained in Wales. He married and was the father of six children. He was buried in Talley, Cardiganshire, South Wales.

Henry John was born August 7, 1859 in Llandilo, Cardiganshire, South Wales. He settled in Salt Lake City, where he married Alice Stephens. During most of his adult life he was a sales representative for Z.C.M.I. He died April 19, 1925 in Salt Lake City.

 

Immigrants:

Davis/Davies, Thomas A.

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