Howells, Ann (Jones, Burt) - Biography

BIOGRAPHY OF

ANN HOWELL BURT

By Sophy Valentine.

 

 

 

BRIGHAM CITY, UTAH 1916

 

 

_______

 

I.

 

Many years ago, when the gospel was first introduced to the world, there lived in far off beautiful Wales, at a place called Aberdare, Glamorganshire, a well-to-do family by the name of Howell. Mr. Howell kept a dry goods store, and he was also a preacher in the Baptist church. They had several children—five or six boys, and a girl named Ann.

This little girl was a pretty, vivacious little thing, full of life, and quite impressed with the fact that she was Mr. Howell's daughter, as children brought up in comparative luxury are apt to feel.                                                              

When she was ten years old Ann was sent to a boarding school at Swansea to be initiated into the mysteries of all that a well brought up young lady should know. But the methods employed were rather severe and Ann did not fancy the idea of being straight-jacketed and dieted in order to become delicate and refined looking; besides, it affected her health very much, and being of an independent spirit she objected. Her father had to be sent for and Ann joyfully returned with him to her home and her loving mother.

One day, while she and her brother were roaming in the field, they attempted to cross a stream on a plank some workmen had left. There was a bridge a little higher up stream, which would have been a great deal more convenient, but, on the lookout, as children generally are, for something whereby they might get hurt, they spied this place with delight and attempted to walk across it, wiggling and giggling so as to make it all the more exciting, and of course they both fell in; first the boy and next Ann, who very heroically tried to save her brother. [End Page 7]

Some workmen had been watching the performance at a distance and came to the children's rescue, but when they had been fished out they were apparently dead and their parents were sent for and informed that their children had been drowned. You can imagine their grief, but everybody turned in and worked with the children till they were finally brought to life.

This incident had the effect of sobering the little wilful girl. Being brought so near to death frightened her and she began to think more seriously.

One day she was sitting with her mama sewing (for little girls in those days were made to sew by hand very beautifully, and knit and crochet and do fancy work, hours at the time, and did not have so very much time to play); well, as I said, as she was busy with some needlework, there came to their house some strange men from America. One of them was the late apostle John Taylor.

Ann wondered considerable at these men, for they were not like the ordinary business men who used to come and visit her father, and of whom she took little notice. These men were so different. They talked about God, about a new prophet like unto those that used to live in olden days, that Ann had often read and heard about. And they spoke about the gospel of peace, which had again been brought to earth, and Ann listened and wondered. And Mr. and Mrs. Howell listened and wondered, too, and their hearts were touched. They were religious people and wanted to serve the Lord; but this was new and strange to them, and they realized how they must, indeed, take up their cross if they would follow the Master; for in those days it was even more difficult for people in better circumstances to embrace the truth than at this day, when the way has been made somewhat smoother by those who have traversed it.

Mr. and Mrs. Howell took up the cross and the little girl stood by and looked on, but soon she was made to feel that she too must take up the cross, if she would follow, for persecu­tions began at once, and the once happy, peaceful home, was now no longer the same. [End Page 8]

They had been so happy in their ease and enjoyment of this world's good things, slumbering securely, as it were, without any serious thought of what God really intended this life should be to His children. But now it was all so different. They began to understand that we were sent here to work out our salvation and they soon found that those who would live godly in Christ must suffer persecution,—and it began at once.

Ann Howell was no longer the well-to-do merchant's daughter; she was only a “Mormon” girl, one of those despised, misled and foolish people, at whom all the world was pointing the finger of scorn.

One day, Brother John Taylor took her aside with her parents and gave her a wonderful blessing, and though now a vigorous old lady of some seventy years, the that blessing is still with her and has been a com many times on life's stormy sea.

Ann was baptized when she was twelve years old, and soon after her father was called to go on a mission to France. He was the first “Mormon” missionary to go to that country.

After opening the Gospel there, he returned to visit his family in Wales and decided to take his little daughter back to France with him, as she was apt, and he thought after learning the French language, she might be a great help to him.

It was no small trial for Ann to leave her dear mother and brothers and her grandfather, who was a wealthy old gentleman man and lived at Cardiff; but since they embraced the gospel, the grandfather had turned with their other friends and was no longer what he used to be.

Before she left, little Ann was requested to go on the stand, one Sunday at meeting and sing “Home, Sweet Home.” She sang it in her sweet childish voice, made tremulous at the thought of soon having to leave her home. Brother Taylor was so delighted with her singing, that he had the song printed on pink silk and gave it to her as a keep-sake.

Life, for a   “Mormon” girl, young as   she was, among strangers, in a strange city, was not all pleasure. They were of course persecuted there as they had been in their home and the language was quite an obstacle to be surmounted; however, Ann soon learned to speak French fairly well, and she [End Page 9] helped distribute tracts from house to house. After three days or more, they would generally call for the tracts and if the people had read them, Ann would give them some more and invite them to their meetings.

Many times the little girl was driven away with threats and she had to run as fast as she could to escape trouble.

They were located at a place called St. Mallow. It was among the poor, where the Saints have generally had to locate. The feeling of opposition was strong against them and at one time had it not been for the intervention of friends, Brother Howell would have been thrown into a pond of water.

Brother Howell decided that it was best to leave the place and they immediately embarked for St. Servin to begin work there.

At their arrival, it being late in the day, they were unable to find lodgings and were obliged to spend the night in the suburbs of the city, outdoors and without shelter.

 

II.

 

After finding lodgings and beginning work again, Brother Howell and his daughter soon found that persecution followed them wherever they went, and it was not long until mob violence forced them out in the grove where they had spent their first night at St. Servin. The mob followed them, how­ever, but Brother Howell succeeded in eluding them until towards morning, when he left his little daughter in the grove while he went into the city to ascertain how matters stood at their lodgings. He told Ann to stay where she was and he would soon return with some breakfast. But soon after his departure some of the mob returned and finding the girl alone, took her with them. Ann had no idea what they were going to do with her, and was of course badly frightened. She wept at the thought of her father's disappointment when he should come back and find her gone. Near the entrance to the grove, they met a kindly-disposed woman, who suc­ceeded in inducing the mob to let her take the little girl in charge. The men were probably not sorry to get rid of the girl, since she would not and could not tell anything about her father, and he was the one they wanted. [End Page 10]

The kind lady, who lived near the entrance to the grove, took Ann to her home and gave her something to eat, for the child was nearly famished and worn out with fatigue and excitement.

Ann kept a sharp look out from the window for her father, and when she saw the bottle green penwiper coat, the tall hat and her kind father's anxious face beneath it, she ran as fast as she could to get to him. She overtook him as he reached the place where he had left her, and where he stood much distressed at not finding her. Their joy at finding each other was great and they thankfully returned to their lodgings.

Meanwhile Sister Howell, who was an energetic woman, staunch in the faith and anxious to do all she could for the gospel’s sake, had been left to manage and carry on the business at home in Wales. But she soon found to her sorrow, that with embracing the truth their financial interests suffered. The business went down fast, for their patrons  had turned against them and very few now came to buy from them, so that Sister Howell now had very little else than the allowance from her father, which she had received ever since she was married. But her father, being angry with her for the disgrace, as he termed it, she had brought on him by joining the despised “Mormons,” now also threatened to withdraw this much needed money, unless she would promise to withdraw from the objectionable people.

Her father was also much displeased with Sister Howell because she was contributing largely of her means to help the cause along in France. The tracts had to be translated and printed in French, lodgings had to be paid for as well as many other expenses and it all had to come from Sister Howell's now fast diminishing supply.

One day Sister Howell's brother came as a messenger from their father to persuade his sister to leave the Mormon Church. Their father had sent him with the express command for her to sever her connections with those people and to leave off sending money to France for the purpose and to their cause along. And furthermore he sent word that if she did not comply with his wishes she would be disinherited and her allowance cut off. [End Page 11]

This was an awful blow to Sister. Howell, who could not see how the cause in France could go on without the money she received from her father; yet she knew that God did not have to depend upon any one person; but she was so anxious to do and help this work along.

She told her brother that she was unable to comply with her father's wishes, as she knew that it was safer for her to do the will of her Heavenly Father, than that of her earthly father and that she was sorry, as she sadly needed her father's help.

Finding that all his pleadings were vain, her brother re­turned to their father with this message, and when the old gentleman heard it he became so enraged that he struck the table with his cane and swore that on the next day he would send for his lawyer and she would be cut off without a penny. Her brother plead for her to no purpose.

Meanwhile Sister Howell went before the Lord and laid the matter in His hands. She asked Him to clear the way for her, that she might be able to carry out her heart's desire if it so pleased Him. She felt comforted after this and that evening she went to prayer meeting.

She had not spoken to anyone about this trouble of hers, being a very reserved woman, who always kept her own counsel.

The Saints used to have spiritual feasts at their prayer meetings. They were all full of this new and wonderful gospel and they were spiritually minded, seeking the Kingdom of God and trying to keep His commandments. They rejoiced in coining together and often some of the Saints spoke in tongues; others interpreted and they enjoyed other manifesta­tions. That night one brother arose and spoke in tongues and the interpretation was to this effect: the sister who was sorely troubled about her financial affairs should take comfort, as God would work out all things for her good.

Sister Howell went home supremely happy, knowing that the Heavely Father would provide a way for her. She went to bed that night with thanksgiving in her heart.

About midnight she was awakened by a loud ringing of the door-bell and springing up in alarm she ran to the [End Page 12] door and there found her brother once more. He was in great haste and told her to hurry, put something on, he had a carriage waiting to take her back to their father who was dying, but he wanted to see her before his death.

How anxious was the daughter to see her father once more and say a few words of comfort to him before they should part for all time! But when they arrived at her father’s house he had gone beyond the pale of understanding the things of this world.

The old gentleman had been taken severely ill soon after supper and he died before morning, without having recognized his daughter, but also without having had time to alter his will.

Sister Howell then was left in possession of her monthly allowance and also received her share of interest from a coal mine in which her father had been a part owner.

She was also able to help carry on the good work in France.

 

III.

 

When Ann Howell had been in France a year and a half she returned with her father to good old Aberdare where she was welcomed back by many of their new friends, of humbler origin, perhaps, than their friends of former days, but whose friendship was sincere. Ann had learned a great many things in France, which were of help to her in after life.

As the Church at Aberdare grew, the persecution in­creased; but the Saints did not grow faint-hearted or weary, for though the road was narrow and thorny it was often lighted up by glimpses of heaven. Many were the manifestations of spiritual gifts; and many miracles were performed to strengthen the faith and testimonies of the Saints.

One day Ann saw a multitude of people surrounding the house of a collier,' who had just been carried home on a stretcher, apparently dying. A great lump of coal had fallen on his back and broken his spine. Ann went inside the house with the crowd to learn something of the poor man's condition. He had lately joined the Church but his wife had not. Great sympathy was felt for the man, and several doctors were sent for by various people. They held a consultation and came to the conclusion that the man would only be able to live a couple of hours at the most. But the injured man whispered to his wife to send for the “Mormon” elders. Brother Howell, who was President of the branch, came [End Page 13] with his counselors and they administered to the sick man and Brother Howell commanded him in the name of Jesus Christ to arise from his bed. And those who stood around the bed heard the bones of the sick man's body crack as they slid back into their places and the man arose from his bed and gave thanks to God for his mercy. Then the unbelievers could see that there had been a great miracle performed, but they said that it had been done by the power of the evil one.

One afternoon, at a Sunday meeting, two girls, who had partaken of the sacrament unworthily, showed unmistakable signs of being possesed of evil spirits, and it frightened the people. The President of the conference, Brother Phillips, was present, and with some of the other brethern went to the girls and rebuked the evil spirits. But the spirits spoke through the girls and said they could only be cast out by Brigham Young in Salt Lake. But the brethren continued to rebuke them and finally the girls became normal and the evil spirits left them. During this incident the girls' faces had been horribly distorted and the voices with which they spoke were unnatural and decidedly not their own. They were afterwards rebaptized, for they had done something wrong.

Sister Howell had a young girl working for her, whom she later adopted. This girl had been brought up among the poorest of the poor and had never had an opportunity of learn­ing anything, but she was gifted with wonderful musical abil­ity. She had joined the Church and was a good, true girl.

About a week after her confirmation into the Church, she went to meeting and the gift of speaking in tongues was given to her in a most wonderful degree. When she arose to her feet she began to sing a most beautiful song. The words and music were blended harmoniously, and although it was in an unknown tongue and no one present understood it, everybody was delighted, and the siprit that went with it was sweet and heavenly. The gift of interpretation was also given her, and [End Page 14] she interpreted it herself in song. No one knew before then that the girl could sing; but after that she often delighted the people.

One day a gentleman named John McMamout, from India, came to visit Ann's father. He was highly educated and spoke many different languages. Brother Howell invited the stanger to dine with them, that he might have an opportunity of ex­plaining the Gospel, which was his delight. The gentleman accepted the invitation, and an interesting Gospel conversation ensued. Afterwards, as was the daily custom, Brother Howell rang a bell for the members of his household to assemble for devotion in a certain room which had been set apart for that purpose. After Brother Howell had prayed and said amen, the girl arose and spoke in a tongue unknown to all present except the stranger, who understood and interpreted. She had told him that the “Mormon” Church was the Church of Christ and that there was no other. The girl spoke to him in several different languages, which he understood. He marveled greatly.

About the year 1850 Brother Howell was advised by the brethern to emigrate; so, accordingly, he sold out, and with his family started for the new Zion, the land of promise to those who love God. While waiting at Liverpool, a certain wealthy man, who was interested in the Gospel, but who, probably, like Nicodemus, had too much of this world's goods, gave a recep­tion in honor of Brothers John Taylor, Orson Pratt and Frank­lin D. Richards. Brother Howell's wife and daughter were also invited, and to Ann, who was fond of such things, this was a great occasion. It was a grand affair and Ann distin­guished herself by singing a French song; and she was noticed considerable for having been in France with her father. If the young girl had had some notions of her own importance, if any pride had crept into her young heart it was speedily taken out by subsequent events, for now the road to trials and poverty began in earnest.

A journey across the Atlantic in those days was very dif­ferent from the way we travel today and there was much to put up with; but Brother Howell was one of the most cheerful of men. He was president of the company going over and he, [End Page 15] with his helpers, made things as pleasant as possible for the travelers. He had the happy faculty of making the best of everything and inspiring others with the same feeling. The captain, too, was an extraordinary man, accommodating the Saints whenever he could. The work of the Lord went on, also, during the journey. There were no less than fifty added to the Church during the fifty days' sojourn on board ship. Twenty-one were baptized in the open sea on a platform let down into the water from the ship's side. The good captain had this platform constructed for the accommodation of the brethren. But in spite of the Spirit of God manifested to the travelers it was in many respects, a hard and trying time for Sister Howell Who was unused to the rough side of life. Ann bore her part of the hardships with the cheerfulness of a child who has the happy faculty of finding pleasure and diver­sion in the most forbidding surroundings. However, the jour­ney was over at last. Brother Howell and his family took up their abode at Council Bluffs, where he started a store for the purpose of maintaining his family till the next year, when they intended to continue their travels to Salt Lake. But God had decreed it otherwise. Brother Howell was a delicate man, and the hardships of the new life soon told on him. He died at Kanesville that same fall. Brothers Hyde and Benson, two of the apostles, visited him every night to comfort him in his last hours. He died in full faith.

 

IV.

 

In 1852 Sister Howell, now the sole caretaker of the little family, prepared to begin the journey westward. Brother Howell had brought with him quite a collection of books, which he had intended to add to a proposed public library in Salt Lake City. But to obtain means Sister Howell was obliged to sell them at a sacrifice. So the journey began by ox team and the children thought it great fun. One day Ann and her brothers had had a particularly fine time; and one of the little boys, William, become very tired. He laid down in the high grass under the wagon and fell asleep. No one thought about him till the company was about to start again. Sister [End Page 16] Howell missed him, but thinking he was as usual among the other children of the company the oxen were started up and the heavy wagon passed over the body of poor little William, killing him instantly. The stricken mother was beside herself with grief; but she bent her head and bowed to the will of the Father. Her child was buried on the plains, where the bodies of so many other pioneers had to be laid to rest.

This accident saddened the whole company, of course, and Ann and her brothers were heavy at heart, particularly Ann, who was her mother's comfort and mainstay. But the jour­ney ended at last and it was a happy day, when they arrived in the valley. Salt Lake City wasn't much of a place in 1852, but the weary travelers thought it a heavenly rest, for they were free from the persecutions they had been subject to in their old home.

They met many friends and kind-hearted people, who were willing and anxious to help the newcomers along, but each one had enough in his own load.

At the time the Howells left their home Sister Howell's relatives had her part of her father's property put in chancery, and if you have ever read Dicken's novels you have perhaps some idea of how very tedious were the proceedings of chan­cery. There the property remained for about ten years and meanwhile the widow and her children often suffered for the necessities of life.

Ann was now fourteen years old, a well-grown, tall and handsome lass, with the longings and aspirations of youth. She was obliged to go about from place to place and sell shawls and other dry goods that her mother had brought away from her store at Council Bluffs. It hurt her pride exceedingly; but the family had to live and she did not complain for that would only make the load heavier for the mother.

After a year and a half of struggling Sister Howell re­moved to Brigham City with her family, thinking she could do better there. Two years later Ann was married. She had not tasted much of youth's pleasures and now she was plunged headlong into life's cares and responsibilities. [End Page 17]

Shortly after Ann's marriage her husband found it neces­sary to go away from Utah to seek work, but Ann would not go with him. She said they had come to Utah for the Gospel's sake and here she would stay. Some months later she became the mother of a fine boy.

While she was rejoicing in the possession of this wonder­ful treasure, her poor mother passed through another great sorrow; the youngest child, while playing around the fireplace outdoors where the family cooking was done, fell into the fire and was so badly burned that he died a few days later.

The family lived in a log house with the ground for a floor and had but few and crude conveniences to help make cook­ing and the housework easy. Many a night did Ann weep her­self to sleep worrying over the future, wondering where she was to get the necessaries for herself and her child. They had sold the small place her husband had, that he might get means for his journey to California and she had gone back to live with her mother.

Back in Wales Sister Howell's brother had heard of the hardships of his sister and her family, by some apostates, who had returned to their native city. He wrote to them and gener­ously offered to assist and support them; would give them a place of their own and would see that they should not want for the comforts of life, if they would but come back. It came as a great temptation in their poverty; but, as Sister Howell ar­gued, what would it benefit them? She knew that they never could be satisfied there; they had tasted the sweets of the Gos­pel and that with poverty and privations would be better than this world's goods and the longing that they knew could never be appeased.

So they wrote to the brother and told him that they were satisfied to live as they were and would trust in the Lord and abide his time. He would help them out of their poverty.

Shortly after this Ann's husband returned, but without the golden fleece he had expected to obtain, and they took up the battle of life in a dugout some few miles from where her mother lived, and life went on with many trials and tribulations, [End Page 18] interspersed with glimpses of sunshine, but always with the feeling of security and trust in the Heavenly Father.

They shared the ups and downs of the people in general, mourned or rejoiced with their neighbors and they were all like one big family.

When they had lived in Utah some ten years Sister Howell one day received a letter from Wales informing her that she had been made beneficiary of the deeding of interest in coal mines and also that the estate in chancery had been disposed of and that her presence in Wales was necessary. So, Sister Howell went to Salt Lake to consult with President Young, who advised her to go back and get what was hers by right and who also kindly furnished her the money to go.

Accordingly Sister Howell soon found herself in the dear old home once more and she was kindly received by her rela­tives. Her sister, who was married to a retired American con­sul, did all in her power to induce her to stay in Wales and send for her children. She showed her all the good things she herself possesed, and assured Sister Howell that she should have the same. She showed her the cellar with its wealth of fruits and jams, but Sister Howell, who was not willing to be outdone by her sister, assured that lady that the squashes and pumpkins of Utah were superior to anything she had tasted in Wales. And she used to sing the hymn:

 

Beautiful mountain home

Where love is found

And joys abound.

What Saints from these would roam.

The world may despise

But dearly we prize

Our beautiful mountain home.

 

It was, of course, impossible for the rich lady to under­stand such love for a wild, strange land, for she comprehended not the love for the Gospel and its strength, which had enabled her sister to bear with fortitude the many and fiery trials be­neath which she would otherwise have sunk.

Sister Howell stayed in Wales about a year, and at the end of this time the tangled threads of her interests had been straightened and she returned to Utah with great joy. The [End Page 19] Lord had now blessed her with worldly means and she emi­grated thirteen people, who with her rejoiced in going home to the land of promise. The family's poverty was over and Sister Howell delighted in doing good with what God had en­trusted to her care.

 

V.

 

Leaves from Ann's Journal.

 

October, 1854. My husband has gone to California to get some work if possible, as we are quite destitute. He wanted me to accompany him, but I could not think of it. It may be better there in a way; but we have come here for the Gospel's sake, and here I intend to stay and weather it out with the rest of the Saints.

March 18th, '55.

I have been going to the home of a well-to-do widow— well-to-do as compared with the general poverty that prevails. I have been going there once a week, for the purpose of help­ing her with her work, for which I have received my dinner and a loaf of bread as wages. No much, to be sure; but it is better than nothing.

Yesterday, as I was going to my work, carrying my baby in my arms, and feeling weak and faint from want of food, I dragged my limbs, for they felt like lead. As I passed the corner of a certain street, a woman came out of her door and offered me a piece of bacon to take home with me. It was the first time I had been offered alms like that in the street and my eyes fell to the ground; but they also filled with tears of gratitude for I surely needed the bacon, and while my lips framed a reluctant refusal, my hands trembled with eagerness for it. The sister saw my predicament and simply laid the gift in my hands and I thanked her and hurried back home to fry some of it. That, with some stale bread, did give me more strength, and I went to my work feeling very grateful.

          We are very, very poor! We make coffee out of bran, and we have neither milk nor butter; if we want sugar we must make it ourselves and out of beets. We seel our good clothes, that we have brought from Wales, to buy flour with. [End Page 20] But we are not alone in our poverty. The people are all poor.

Brother G. tried to mix sawdust with his bread stuff; but it did not work very; it made them all ill: still they had to eat what he had mixed up for it was too precious to waste.

Oh for a few of the good things we had at home!

We were given a piece of meat by Brother V. He had been up in the mountains and carried home a couple of dead animals that had died of starvation during the cold winter. Well, there was not much meat to it, and when it was boiled it was black; still it satisfied our hunger.

The other day I tried to sing “Home Sweet Home;” I took out the pretty pink silk on which it is printed and which Brother John Taylor gave me back in dear old Wales, when he used to make his home with us, dear good man. But my voice failed and I broke down and cried. But mother started up in her rich, cheerful voice:

 

“Oh Babylon, Oh Babylon,

We bid thee farewell;

We're going to the mountains

Of Ephraim to dwell.”

 

Then I dried my eyes and had to smile at mother's anxiety to set me right.

April 18th, '58—An army is coming to destroy us, so they say.

Johnson's army, they call it.

They have winterquartered out at Ham's Fork. It may be their intention to destroy us: but Providence is over all. I have no fear, yet I know that many are trembling. It looks dark.

President Young has counseled the people to move south and we are all going. We have been packing up our few belongings; we haven't much, which is a consolation at this time.

If the soldiers prove as hostile as is feared, our men are going to set fire to our houses and cabins so that nothing but desolation will greet Johnston and his men.

July—We are at Provo Bottoms and just having a fine time. Mother and the children and everybody here. And we are just enjoying ourselves, having happy sociable times in [End Page 21] spite of the camp-life and the primitive conditions with which we are surrounded.

We have obeyed the counsel of our leaders and all will work out for our good. I never thought we could have such a fine time in exile. We go visiting each other and we women go in clusters down to the lake and bathe with the children.

Johnston and his men seem very nice people in a way; they have come in peaceably and are scattering their abund­ance among the people—“All things worketh together for good to them that love and serve the Lord.”

And now we must go back to our homes. It is almost with a feeling of regret that we leave, for we have found so many nice, congenial people, and we have certainly enjoyed this bit of hardship.

August—At home in Brigham once more. Oh, but it seems desolate! The Indians have burned up what little furniture we had left and taken out of our houses what they could use.

There is no grain for none has been stored, and there is nothing to harvest, for nothing was planted. What will we do for food for the little ones? But we must trust in Him who never forsook us.

September—We have found a large patch of segoes below the town, which seem to have been planted especially for us. They are fine, large and good tasting—not like the small variety we children used to find, above town. Mother and I take our sacks and go down to the patch and dig quantities, along with our neighbors. The first day mother heaved a deep sigh as she shouldered her sack and as I came up behind her, tears came to my eyes at the sight. It doesn't matter about me, but my poor hard-tried mother, who might now have been a lady at her ease back in dear old Aberdare! But what benefiteth it a man if he gains the whole world, etc.

Now, we do not sigh any more, nor do I shed tears— only of gratitude for the food we have found. There are about twenty or thirty acres of the segoes I should judge; so I hope they will not give out soon.

November—I had occasion to go and see Sister B., this morning and such a treat as I had; warm biscuits and honey. I never tasted anything so delicious. [End Page 22]

When Sister B. returned from her exile she and the child­ren found a patch of milk-weed flowers all covered with honey. They picked the flowers, rinsed them in a tub of water and afterwards boiled the fluid down. They obtained about a gallon of honey. My, but it is good!

May 18—We are living on a farm at Three Mile Creek. I have had to ride the plough horse. It has nearly ruined my complexion, but that is not the worst annoyance, nor the greatest danger that has threatened us on the farm. The Indians seem to be on the warpath and we live in constant fear of an attack from them.

Our neighbor, Sister Peters, was left alone one night. After going to bed, she heard someone trying to open the door, and just as she threw herself against it, she felt the weight of somebody from the other side. In spite of her efforts Sister Peters was forced back slightly and a bronzed arm shot through the aperture. Someway she got hold of the table and pulled it up in front of the door, and catching up the butcher knife, which lay on it, she ran the back of the knife along the arm, which was quickly withdrawn. Then she began to scream for her husband, who was nowhere near, but it had the effect of hustling the savages away.

 November, 1860—Back again to Brigham. Living in a small house that leaks very badly; we sleep in the cellar close by the house, yet we are not safe from the rain there; we have to sleep with umbrellas over our heads.

Many of our men have to work at Camp Floyd, where the soldiers are stationed, and oh, what a Godsend that army has been to the people of Utah! Their coming was like an ominous cloud over our heads and our hearts almost failed, us with fear; but the cloud was big with mercy and broke with blessings on our heads.

How much good cheer they have brought to our homes: for they furnished our men with work and paid well for it.

We have been able to sell our products, such as we can raise at a good price, and they have scattered wagons, oxen, wagon-covers, clothes and many needed things among us. Who but an allwise Father could have sent the enemy with' the succor we needed so badly. [End Page 23]

May, '63—We are living in a dugout up here on the North Spring. The neighbors call it the Castle of Spiders and it is well named, for I never saw so many reptiles and bugs of all kinds.

For several mornings I was puzzled to find my milk-pan skimmed: could not understand what could have done it. So the other evening I sat down behind the door, with my knitting, to watch proceedings, and what was my surprise to see a huge bull-snake come crawling out from the head of our bed and swaying gracefully toward my crude cupboard, began to skim my cream.

Now I cover my milk tightly.

This is a hidious place. Some days ago, I killed a rattle­snake with my rolling pin, as he came crawling down the steps. I was just cooking supper and the baby was on the floor or rather the ground, for we have no other floor. I was badly frightened.)

November, 1863 The Indians have been troublesome for a long time, pilfering here and there, scaring the women half to death. They stole a horse of ours and one night they killed a man a few miles from here. So most of the men up here on the spring formed a company, and went out to make an attack on them.

My neighbor, Sister Jerusha Pierce—she is the daughter of the martyred Hyrum Smith and sister to the patriarch John Smith and also to Joseph F. Smith—well, she came over to spend the day with me while our husbands were away. I had prepared lunch and we sat down comfortably to gossip a bit, thinking very little of the Indians or any other danger.

All of a sudden we were nearly petrified with fright to see two of the bronzed terrors in full war paint and regalia standing in the doorway.

In an imperative manner, they demanded bread, which I gave.

Then they apparently consulted together; after which one started toward Sister Jerusha pointing his gun at her. She fainted promptly and I felt like doing the same, but in this moment of pressing need, I remembered having heard that an Indian has some little respect for a courageous woman, [End Page 24] so snatching the ax, which we kept behind the door, I raised it above my head and made for the nearest redskin. Much to my surprise, he lowered the rifle and dodging the swing I made at him, laughed, and he and his companion quickly departed saying something about a brave squaw.

Then it was my turn to faint and meanwhile, Jerusha came to, and two such bewildered looking objects as we must have presented I guess are seldom seen.

That's an experience I shall never forget, nor I think any of us, for I never was so frightened in my life.

 

VI.

Leaves from Ann's Journal

 

 October, 1864. We are going to move away from here. I am weary of fighting all these reptiles. A few days ago, while keeping the flies off the baby's face as he slept on an improvised bed on the floor, I discovered, to my horror, a large tarantula crawling toward the child. I seized the broomstick, thrust the end of it at the tarantula and when it took hold of the thing which was provoking it I hurriedly put it into the fire.

 July, 1865. Last week we Brigham dames and lassies gave a dinner in honor of President Brigham Young. It was quite an affair for our small town. The tables were nicely decorated and we had a lot of good things. President Young seemed to hesitate before beginning to eat and looked about the table apparently for something. At last he smilingly asked one of the waitresses if she could procure him a bowl of buttermilk. We got it in a hurry and when he received it he was much pleased and seemed to relish that more than anything else on the table. While watching him at the table I could not help thinking, “He eats to live, and does not live to eat.”

May, 1866. Good tidings have come to us from Wales: mother will at last receive that which is hers and of which we have been deprived so long. Her case in chancery has been disposed of, and by going back, she will receive a great deal of money. It will at least seem a great deal to us. [End Page 25] How thankful we are that after so many years of poverty and privations, which mother has borne uncomplainingly, she will be rewarded.

We have no money to travel with, but mother went to Salt Lake to see President Young; it took her three days to get there by ox team. He has promised to loan her the neces­sary funds. He even offered to see that her children were well placed during her absence,—good, kind and grand man that he is. But that is not necessary, for I am to live at mother's place and take care of my family and hers—a great responsibility, being young myself.

1878. My dear, faithful mother has passed away in full faith of the Gospel, for which she has suffered so much. When I think of the many harrowing trials she has passed through since we joined the Church in old Wales, I can not help thinking that straight is the gate and narrow the way and few there are that find it; and if it wasn't, as Paul says, for the hope within us, we would of all people be the most miserable. Cut often when she has been near to sinking under her heavy burden, some unseen hand held her up and helped her climb on. Peace be to her soul; she is gathered with my dear father and they now no doubt understand the many whys and wherefores we are still pondering over.

July, 1883. Both my eldest sons and my husband are on missions. It is a great joy to know and to feel that they are doing something for the great cause; and that God has blessed us with means so that we are able to help roll the work along.

December, 1884. A great sorrow came to me some months ago. My next eldest son William Howell Jones, who was laboring in the Southern States mission, came near losing his life in a terrible mob violence in Tennessee, where he was working together with Elders Berry and Gibbs, who lost their lives for Christ's sake.

We received a telegram from Tennessee that three “Mor­mon” missionaries had been murdered, and my son was one of them. When this terrible news reached me I, being already in a weakened condition after a paralytic stroke, collapsed. I took to my bed and grieved my heart out, almost, the whole [End Page 26] day; but toward evening I grew calmer and I reasoned with myself that my son was a martyr for the Gospel's sake, and instead of being cast down should I not rejoice that he died doing his duty? And the words of the old hymn came to my mind, “Why should we mourn and think our lot is hard, ‘Tis not so, all is well.’” I immediately arose, feeling comforted. My first thought was of my family, who had had nothing to eat all day on account of this great shock. So I went into the garden to get some potatoes, and while there, my husband came shouting and waving his handkerchief. I knew then that some good news concerning my boy had come, which proved true.

He was unhurt, but was coming home with the bodies of the other two brethren. But oh! while my soul was re­joicing, the hearts of others were breaking in sorrow.

April, 1889. The days of my youth have long since de­parted and I'm growing old; still am I grateful for the com­parative good health and strength with which I am blessed: neither do I feel old in my spirit; and I also have great need of keeping up a show of youthfulness, for I still have young children in my care: two of my dear daughter's who died a few years ago, and one of my son's, who lost his wife.

Ah! the many heartaches and trials that make up life's bitter school. And how many times we ask “Why, oh, Father, why must I drink this bitter draught?” Yet can I say, that He fits the back to the burden; so why complain! But life is just one thing after another, and by the time you think that now perhaps you may relax a little, something else turns up to tax your powers of endurance.

I have had a call to accept a five-years mission to the Sandwich Islands, where my husband is laboring, and he is ill at this time and as some of the family ought to go and it seems that I am best prepared to do so, why I guess I'll go and take the children with me.

October, 1891. After two years of missionary life in the Sandwich Islands, we are back once more. I came home much sooner than I expected on account of my life; but I enjoyed the trip immensely. [End Page 27]

While there I used to teach a Sunday School class of boys and girls, and how eager those boys and girls were to learn. I had taken with me a book, the story of the Bible, and I would read and explain to them from that, and they were so anxious to hear, that sometimes when they did not see the book they would come up to me and say excitedly: “You forget you book Anni?” And when I would hold it up and show them they seemed greatly pleased. We taught them in English.

While on the Islands I had the honor and pleasure of meeting and explaining the Gospel to the Queen Liliuokalani. She sent word one day to the president of our mission, that she was coining to visit her subjects at Laie, and that she would stop over a day with us. Well, the sisters (there were seven of us), got busy immediately to prepare dinner for her and her attendants. There were sixty of them when they came. We had arranged the tables in the big meeting-room and it was quite a grand affair.

The queen, a dark, lady-like woman, was splendidly dressed. She conversed well in English and was very pleased. Her appearance was refined and she spoke in low tones. I had the honor of entertaining her while the other sisters got the dinner ready and on the table.

We spoke about the Book of Mormon and the ancestors of her people and she was much pleased to have me tell of the Book of Mormon incidents. She expressed a great desire to possess that book and I afterwards bought the best copy of the Book of Mormon that I could procure there and presented her with it, for which she seemed much pleased.

She told me that she did not doubt that what she had heard was true, but it would be impossible for her to embrace it, as she feared that that would cost her her throne. Poor thing, how uncertain are the things of this world! Her throne she may lose anyway; how much better to possess the favor of the Lord. But I shall always remember her with pleasure.

It was with a feeling of sadness that I left many dear friends in the Hawaiian country, and I was much troubled in my heart about my prospective return journey, as I suffered much with seasickness going over. But my dear husband gave [End Page 28] me a blessing and promised me that I should not be ill a day nor an hour; that the sea should be calm and unruffled. Well, that promise was verified, for I never felt better in my life than while crossing the great ocean, and the children reminded me of it the day we landed.

October, 1893. I have been back east in Pittston, Penn., visiting two of my uncles: Esdras Howell, who is a member of our Church, and John Howell, a wealthy merchant. I went there for the purpose of gathering genealogical data and I had many and varying experiences. I have often wished that I might take a trip like that, and my going shows that “all things come to him who waits.”

My uncle, the merchant, and his wife, are orthodox Epis­copalians and could not tolerate the “Mormons.” We had many a battle over our respective beliefs, and often when they would speak disrespectfully about our leaders I could scarcely hold my temper, but I bit my tongue and said, “God forgive you, for you don't know what you are fighting against.” That mollified them and they would excuse their extravagant language.

My uncle was ill for a while during my visit with them and communion was brought to him from the church and after the ceremony my aunt offered the priest cigars, which he helped himself to.

There was great lamentation in my uncle's family because the priest was going away. The Lord had called him to Philadelphia, so they said. I asked my aunt the cause for the change. “Oh,” said she, “it is almost aggravating. We furnished him an elegant home and paid him four thousand dollars a year, but because he is such an excellent preacher the Philadelphians have offered him six thousand dollars.” I told her that I did not think the Lord had anything to do with such a call, and I read to her from the scriptures. But she did not take kindly to it. She was, however, amazed when I told her that our missionaries do not receive any pay; she could hardly believe it, she said.

When I left my uncle's house I was sad at heart, knowing and feeling that the one essential had been lacking in our intercourse [End Page 29] —true sympathy. They could not see the beauty of my religion, or would not, for they closed their eyes tight, that no ray of light might enter. But some day the veil will be lifted from their eyes, dear souls, then how surprised they will be!

While east I visited the World's Exposition at Chicago and was much impressed by the displays of the various arts and crafts of the different nations. How wonderfully has God blessed man; how great must He be since His children even here on earth have learned such wonderful accomplishments!

While visting (sic) my Uncle Esdras Howell at Scranton, we had a large meeting of Saints and a spiritual feast it was. One sister told of a drunken husband, who, when he joined the Church, left off drinking and became a good and sober man. She, herself, had been afflicted with a cancer on the cheek. The doctors had pronounced it incurable, but she had gone to the servants of the Lord and she had exercised faith before the Lord and her cancer had been cured by administration alone, and left her cheek in a perfectly natural condition. Many testi­monies did I gain during my trip that strengthened my faith and made me rejoice that I had received this blessed Gospel in the days of my youth.                                                             

And now I shall write no more in my journal. I know not  whether my days be many or few, but while I live my soul rejoices in His goodness, Who led me over the rough places and never forsook me.

I do not regret any of my afflictions; I realize that they are part of life's great training school. Out of my experience I have winnowed a few grains that I would like to give to the young and rising generation: Be honest always, and firm; take your stand for what you know to be right and then stay by it; practice economy and work; be kind and just in your dealings and be not hasty. And above all remember that a fer­vent trust in the Almighty coupled with honest effort will in time bring you anything you wish. Be cheerful. Under all my trials and experiences I have tried to be cheerful and grateful.

 

“It is easy enough to be cheerful

When life goes by like a song,

But the man worth while (sic) is the man who can smile

When everything goes dead wrong.” [End Page 30]

 

LEAVES FROM MY JOURNAL, 1851.

 

My father, William Howell, was a wonderful good man, born at St. Donnets, South Wales, Glamorganshire. Sept. 18, 1816, died Nov. 21, 1851. When he was a young man he went to London, England, and started a store, later he moved to Aberdare, South Wales, Glamorganshire, where he was mar­ried to my mother, Martha Williams. She was the daughter of a wealthy old gentleman, who owned a coal mine. They became the parents of a large family, myself, Ann, born July 27th, 1840; Reese, who came to Utah and became a wealthy merchant in Ogden, he died in 1914; Martha died when she was nine months old; William was killed on the plains by a wagon running over him; Lewis grew up and came to Utah, he was a faithful Latter Day Saint and the father of a large family, married two wives, Sarah Gunnel from Wellsville being the first and Mary Williams, sister of Senator Williams from Salt Lake City, he died full of faith in the Gospel and left a large respectable family; Edmund died when he was a year old: Joseph Howell is still living in Logan, he has a large respect­able family and at present writing has been acting Representa­tive in Congress for twelve years.

My father was the first missionary to introduce the Gospel in France, which was in 1850. He organized the Church in St. Mallow. Later on he came back to Wales to visit his family and upon returning took me back to France with him, where I readily learned to speak and read the language fluently. Later on he was released to come home and counselled (sic) by Brother Taylor to come home to Utah. After starting on the journey we stopped in Liverpool for a month on account of sickness. While there my father, mother and myself received an invitation to attend a grand banquet given by a very wealthy man by the name of Howerd, in honor of Brother John Taylor, Franklin Richards and others of the apostles who were in attendance. During the banquet I was invited to sing in French, which I did to the great satisfaction of my father and those present. We sailed from Liverpool on the ship Olumpus and my father was called to act as president over the saints on the ship. We had one or two very, very [End Page 31] severe storms. While the outside people would be screech­ing and hollering the saints would be singing and giving praise to the Almighty, as happy as larks. The Captain often won­dered what kind of a people we were, having so much faith in the gospel. My father was so ambitious he made fifty con­verts coining across the sea. We landed alright in New Or­leans and took a steamer to St. Louis. Orson Pratt and his wife and daughter, Celestia, were traveling on the same steamer, so that Celestia and I became very good friends. It was on this voyage that I first saw and tasted “Johnnie Cake.” After remarking to Celestia that I should first take a piece of that beautiful looking sponge cake I took it when it was passed and found to my surpise (sic) that it was what they called “Johnnie Cake,” and I never cared about “Johnnie cake” since, as I could not eat it at the time. We traveled to Council Bluffs where my father started a store, as the Saints would not be ready to start for Utah for about a year, but his health failed after so much hardships as he was a very delicate man and only about thirty-five years old too, but he never became strong again and finally died there, but before his death he took lots of comfort through the kindness of Brothers Orson Hyde and Benson, of the Twelve Apostles, who came to see him often.

We then came to Utah, arrving (sic) in Salt Lake in 1852, where we lived for a year and half, then moved to the Old Fort. Oftentimes we would have trouble with the Indians. One night, having received word that they were coming to kill us all off, arrangements were made for the women all to stay in one large room, so some of them took their feather beds and nailed them up against one side of the wall so the bullets could not penetrate through and put their children to sleep there on the floor. The Fort was surrounded with rock walls so that no one could get in except through the south gate. The women had for their defense, pitchforks, hoes, brooms and shovels, the men having all the guns. One family lived next door to us by the name of Peters had brought with them from the old country two canisters (sic), one labeled tea and the other coffee, and the brothers Peters had taken one to put his gunpowder [End Page 32] in and his wife had put black pepper in the other, as they had no tea and coffee in those clays, and those being both together Brother Peters got the black pepper to load his gun with, which caused some merriment. But like all other mir­acles the Lord protected us and we came out victorious without any fighting. Many a time I have heard the wolves howl all night right up against the door, which made us feel rather chilly. Often the Indians came in droves, several hundred together at times during the day. We obeyed President Young's counsel and tried not to quarrel with them and gave them flour and whatever else we could spare in exchange for robes, when they would leave peaceably.

Shortly after this I was married to my husband, Ricy Jones, and we moved down to Salt Lake City, where we lived very comfortable and happy for about a year and a half, but times were very hard, we suffered considerably for something to eat. Finally my husband became dissatisfied and wanted to go to California to make a raise, but I had heard President Young preach to the Saints telling them that if any of them left without counsel they were liable to apostatize and as we had come here for the Gospel's sake I refused to go with my hus­band, so he sold the house over my head and I was left penni­less. It was a very severe trial on me because I was expecting to become a mother and was of course left destitute. I went to Brigham, which had been built up into a little town since we lived at the Old Fort, and lived with my mother. About this time I received a letter from my uncle, Lewis Lewis, who was still living in Wales, he had heard of my circumstances through some apostate who had gone back there and told him about me, so he wrote telling me that if I would come back and live with him, having no children of his own, he would make me heir to all his property, but of course I would have had to forsake my religion to do so and while this was a great temptation to me as I knew that all my poverty would be at an end I was firm in staying with my religion and so did not go. When my hus­band heard that I had become a mother and had a son he came back, shortly after this we decided to move to Wellsville, Cache Valley, and take up a large farm. We built a cozy little house on Main street and I started a millinery shop and small [End Page 33] store, the first that was ever started in that town. I made a perfect success of it for several years. About that time we organized the Relief Society, and they called on me to act as secretary and treasurer, which I did to the best of my ability; workers were very scarce at that time. I remember one day going to very scarce at that time. I remember one day going to Logan to Relief Society conference, about seven miles from Wellsville, the place we were living. Of course we were very weak at that time, the organizations being new, and I remember Sister Maughn, president of the Relief Society at that time, once sat down and cried like a child because she was afraid she would not be able to fill the position properly, as she was not used to talking in public. Inside of a year, however, the women had become so strong and capable that they could get up and preach lengthy sermons so that some of the men, who thought women had enough to do to attend to their household duties, called them “Female Roosters.” After living in Wellsville thirteen years I moved back to Brigham. Lorenzo Snow, one of the twelve apostles, called me to supervise the Co-operative Millinery shop here. I had eight girls under me. We first had to gather the straws and split them, soak them and braid them, then sew them into any shape we wanted. We made our own flowers and our own straw trimming. But later on as the business increased they employed from fifteen to twenty girls. The millinery shop was only one of the branches of   industries   comprising   this    Co-operative    organization, Brother Snow gives a description of it in his biography, as follows—“The association comprised of between thirty and forty industrial branches, a superintendent over each, who is responsible to the general superintendent for its proper and judicious management. The accounts of each department were kept separate and distinct, stock taken annually, separate statements and balance sheets made out' and kept by the secretary of the association so that the gain or loss of each may be ascertained and known at the end of the year or oftener if required. At the close of the year a balance sheet is made from the several statements giving a perfect exhibit of the business. From this exhibit a dividend from the investments of the capital stock was declared. The profit or loss of each department [End Page 34] of course was shared equally by the stockholders. The employees in the various departments were paid weekly at the secretary's office.” (Refer to Lorenzo Snow's biography).

Brother Snow organized a, theatre and I was one of the first women to take part in it, being the very first one chosen. Later on they divided Brigham City into four wards; I was then ordained by Eliza R. Snow to be secretary for the Second ward which position I filled until I was called by Brother Snow again to fill a mission on the Sandwich Islands. When I came back from the islands they established in Brigham a religion class for young ladies, ranging from fourteen to thirty years old and they called me to preside over it. Sister Anderson and Sister Figgins were my counselors, Maud Jenson was the secretary. I had about forty young ladies who were qualifying themselves for missions. We kept this up for about two years and then they established the Young Ladies' Mutual Improvement Association. Later on they organized a parents class in Brigham and I was called as one of three supervisors, which position I filled for many years. Later in my declining years I was called for teacher again, but my health failed so that I could not keep it up.

Soon after we came from Cache Valley, Johnston's army threatened to come and kill us all off. The president, Martin Van Buren, had sent them to destroy us, as he had been misinformed and thought we were disloyal to the government and had burned records belonging to the United States. They wrote threatening letters saying they would kill us all, etc. On their way there came a big snow storm which snowed them all in and they almost starved, having to eat their mules so that they were humbled and very glad to come in with us in the spring when the weather got so they could. We acknowledged the hand of the Lord in humbling their spirits and allowing them to understand how mistaken they had been regarding our disloyalty. [End Page 35]