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.
