BIOGRAPHY OF ELIZABETH ELDORTHA MCDERMOTT SIMS AS TOLD TO HER DAUGHTER HANNAH ISABELLA SIMS HENDERSON WINN
Elizabeth Eldortha McDermott was born October 14, at Rounda Bush, East Province, South Africa, daughter of James McDermott and Johanna Smyth.
My father was a shoemaker or as it would be today, a shoe manufacturer. He tanned his own leather and I often helped to wash the thread that he used to sew the shoes. It was all done by hand; he had the best materials as well as workmanship. He could guarantee his shoes for at least a year. They didn't size the shoes, but measured and fit each foot. He took great pride in his work, good judgment and skill. Mother was also neat and an expert seamstress and displayed great abilities in fancy needle work. She was also a good housekeeper and a splendid cook.
They belonged to the Church of England and Father's custom was to read a chapter of the Bible every morning, then had family prayer before breakfast. They always taught us children to read from the Bible and that's how I got my early schooling -- reading the bible.
They had six children as follows: 1. Margaret (Married Alfred Walton (English)); 2. Elizabeth Eldortha (Married Alexander Sims (Scottish)); 3. Michael (wife unknown)); 4. Cornelius (wife unknown)); 5. Isabella (Married Alfred Walker (English)); and 6. John (wife unknown)).
We had to walk everywhere we went. I remember one time my sister Margaret and I were going to the next settlement, as we were passing a large mountain, to our astonishment, we saw large rocks rolling down the mountain side towards us. As one came farther down the hill, we could see it was a big dog, and as the top of the mountain was between us and the sun, we could very plainly see that what looked like little heads coming over the mountain were wild men. Magaret took me on her back and ran, this way we escaped the dog, bur on our return trip home we could see the dog tracks, hd had crossed our trail and circling around through the brush and returned up the mountain again. These wild men were known to steal anything they could get hold of (children and goats) so we felt lucky to have gotten away from them.
On an occasion when Mother & I were visiting with my aunt and uncle who owned a flour mill, the boys would set snares in the mill to catch pheasants. One day my cousins and I went to see if anything had been caught in the snare. We were laughing and talking when all at once we heard a rushing noise in the mill, we were all frightened and ran back into the house, and told their father, who took his gun and went with us. When he opened the door we could see there had been wild men in the bin stealing flour and there was a square window about four feet from the floor which they made their escape from the mill. We had frightened them so, that in their haste to get away they had strewn flour across the floor, and must of dove through the window, as they left prints of their bodies in the sand showing that they had landed on their stomachs. We followed them for a mile or more, my uncle shot his gun several times to frighten them. We never saw amy more of the wild men, only a trail of flour as far as we could see. I don't think they ever came back again.
In the fall we children would go out under the trees with sacks to gather nuts from the trees. The trees would always be full of monkeys. We would throw rocks at them and they would throw nuts back at us, then they would get so excited they would start jumping from limb to limg shaking the nuts down and we would pick them up, fill our sacks and go home.
I remember one day Mother & I were walking through a grove of trees. We saw a big group of monkeys crossing the road, when they saw us, they lined up on each side of the road facing us and stool like soldiers in a row. We picked up a stick and pointed it at them and they would jump back. Mother said they thought we had guns. I saw a baby monkey sitting alone on the road. It was tempting to leave alone, and just as I went to take hold of it's tail, Mother jerked me back saying, "if you had made it squeal, the whole group would have been on top of us." There were so many of them, they would have torn us to pieces.
A short time later, my parents consented to let me live with a Mrs. Lovemore and family, who shortly after I came to live with them, moved to Quakers Flat, taking me with them. Mother didn't know that they planned on moving out of town when she gave her consent for me to live with them.
I was only eight years old and thought it would be fun to live on a big estate in the country. Before Mother let me go with them, she made Mrs. Lovemore promise to let me go to school with their children (they had a private teacher) so I bid good-bye to my folks, and never to see my father again.
The Lovemore's hired Kaffir people to do all the heavy work on the farm. They would milk the cows, and strain the milk into forty gallon barrels, which were equipped with a handle on each end of the rod. Two Kaffir women would each take hold of a handle, and a man would start the barrel revolving and the women would keep it in motion, until the butter came. Sometimes it would take half a day or so to churn the butter to a golden yellow and sweet, lovely flavor. I have never tasted butter in America that can in any way compare with it.
The Kaffir girls did all the washing. They would scour the tin and buckets with sand and keep them as bright as a looking glass.
My work, while there, was to care for the babies, and bathe the other children and comb their hair and dress them for school. Although Mrs. Lovemore had promised Mother she would send me to school, she never kept her promise. With the little schooling I had before leaving my father and mother, I went on learning to read by studying the Bible (that is why I say I was educated out of the Bible). It was also my job to see that the other children studed their lessons each evening, and as I was eager to learn, this gave me just the opportunity I wanted. I think I got as much or more out of their studies as they did.
Each day, the children would take their lessons to school and recite to the teacher. She would assign them their next leson to bring home and I would help each one prepare their work for the following day.
The Kaffir women would do the washing and all the heavy work, but after I was ten years old, I had to do all the ironing. There was a large family of girls and they all wore full skirts that came right down to their toes. the dresses were trimmed with yards of ruffles, and they were all starched so stiff that when I got them ironed, they stand up all alone on the floor. One day, I stood them all on their bedroom floor, which had a curtain at the door. Then I raised the curtains so they could just see the bottoms of the dressed and then I called the girls to come and see. After they had all taken a peek, they said, "Elizabeth, who are all those little girls?" Then I pulled back the curtains and showed them all their dresses standing on the floor, close together filling the room. They all had a good laugh at the joke I had played on them, but it only meant the finish of a long, hard day's work for me, until the next week. (The girls had bonnets to match the dresses.) I would stand in the hot kitchen and iron until I was ready to drop while the other children were out playing in the shade.
Sometimes we would go to a large corral full of goats, among them an old billy goat tat would chase us. The corral was a woven brush fence with the posts driven in the ground and the willows around them, as we would weave a basket. It was made oblong and would hold about 500 goats. We would all get at different places on top of the pen and then jump off inside and the old Billy would make for one of us, who would climb over the top, then he would turn and go for another. One morning we had benn playing a long time, when old Billy went after me. I ran farther along the fence, before climbing over and I hit something as I went I looked to see what I had stumbled against and there laid a wild man on his stomach with his hands under his head and his elbows sticking out each side. He was sound asleep and all of our laughing and shouting didn't wake him. We ran to the house and told Mr. Lovemore, who took his gun and shot over the man's head. He jumped up and stretched his arms straight out each side of hm and ran as hard as he could go over the Flats. He looked like a big bird flying. Evidently he had come to steal a goat, but finding the hole in the fence, had laid down to take a nap, but over slept. They had stolen quite a few goats before that, but they never came back again. I guess the shot had given him quite a fright.
We had such an even climate there. The only way we could tell winter was that it rained more then. The cattle and sheep fed in green pastures the year round.
The Kaffirs built their huts in the low-lands. This marshy ground was also the habitation of the boa constrictor. This big snake would swallow a child as quick as ti would a calf or an other food. The Kaffirs were always watching them.
One day a man came to the house quite excited and called us to go and see a snake that had just swallowed a calf. There it lay, sound asleep, and we could see the form of the calf in the snake's stomach. The man shot it.
When I was sixteen years old, the Kaffir was broke out, and all the towns were heavily guarded. No white person was allowed out of their homes after nightfall.
At this time I had formed a habit of walking in my sleep. I was guarded very close at night, as the people know of my practice of walking while asleep. They were afraid I would get outside and be shot as a spy. One night while walking around in my sleep, I fell over a stool and woke myself up and I was never to walk in my sleep again.
Now it will be remembered that nine years have passed since I saw my mother or any of my family. (I am 18 years old now.)
I dreamed I saw my mother and my youngest brother coming in a covered wagon, and on arising the next morning, I said to Mrs. Lovemore, "My Mother is coming today." After watching for them all day, toward evening I saw them coming, and they looked exactly as I had seen them in my dream, so I knew immediately it was them, and ran a half a mile or more to meet them. I climbed into the wagon and kissed them. Only God in Heaven knew the joy in my heart at meeting them. I saw a sad look in my mother's face and knew she was in trouble. She told me my father had passed away and she had come for me.
Then I accompanied my mother to her sister's (Elizabeth Moulder) where we spent three months. While there, I, for the first time in my life, was allowed to go to dances and parties, so needless to say, I greatly enjoyed the visit.
I didn't appreciate going back to the Lovemore's, but not long after my return to the Lovemore home, a Mr. Alexander Sim(s) came to work as an apprentice in the Lovemore flour mill. In all my life, I had met but a few young men, so when this young man cme on the property and took up his vocation sonear me, we soon became very much attached to each other. However, close restrictions were placed upon me because the Lovemores didn't want to loose me, because of the work I would daily accomplish for them. So, on rare occasions, I was permitted to be in Mr Sim(s) company. Eventually he revealed to them that hew as expecting to marry me. Mr. Sim(s) was the son of Thomas Sim(s) and Mary Jane Innes, born November 14, 1835 in Aberdeen, Aberdeenshire, Scotland.
After he had completed his apprenticeship as a mill right and machinist, were were married in Gramestown. At this time I was 20 years old. This was the spring of 1861 and soon after our marriage, my husband bought what was known as "The Winds Flour Mill" at Gramestown, so here we made our home and he continued working at his trade of running the flour mill. He had to depend upon the pond for power to run the mill and so it soon became too tedious and slow for him.
It was here in Gramestown, my first baby was born, April 9, 1862, a little girl named Jane. When Jane was six months old, my husband sold the mill and went to Port Elizabeth to work. He boarded with a family by the mane of Leo and worked with a man by the name of Fred Ardor. These people were all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
One day when Mr. Ardor went to dinner, he left a Book of Mormon laying on the table, and as my husband was always a great reader, he cam upon this book and began reading it. He asked many questions in regards to the new book which interested him from the first time he saw it.
After they had discussed the book and its origin, etc., Mr. Ardor invited him to accompany him to a meeting that night. Upon reaching the meeting house, he met Elders Fotheringham & Dixon, who were conducting the meeting. When he saw these two Elders and was reminded that he had seen these two men, previously, in a dream, and recognized them as being servants of God who had the true gospel. He had always been a great reader of the bible, but contended that the ministers never placed the proper interpretation to the scriptures. As soon as he heard these Elders proclaim the Gospel in its true light and under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, he knew they were telling the truth and wer men sent from God, so almost immediately he became converted and asked to be baptized.
Early in the month of January 1863, he was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, by Brother Henry Dixon, and confirmed a member in the church the same day.
I was visiting the Lovemores at this time and they treated me fine, so I enjoyed my visit very much. I went to my cousin's (James Stirly) and stayed five or six weeks from there and then my husband came for me and took me home with him.
As we were enroute for home, we passed a little church which bore the inscription The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My husband pointed to it and said to me, "That is my church, the one I now belong to." I looked and read the inscription and said, "Surely you have not joined the Mormons?" He answered that he had and I said, "Well, that sound very funny to me as I have heard so many unfavorable reports about them." He didn't invite me to go to his church with him, but he continued meeting with the Elders regularly; attending church whenever they would have a meeting. During this time, I was attending the Church of England and one day the Elders were holding a meeting and I said to him, "I believe I will go with you and visit your church this afternoon." He said, "Very well, I will be glad to have you." So, I accompanied him to church and for the first time in my life listened to the Mormon Doctrine and the testimony of the Mormon Elders.
Father, as I referred to my husband after our baby was born, could see that I was favorably impressed with their sermons, so after the meeting, he introduced me to the Elders and we invited them home with us to dinner. They remained during the evening and needless to say, it was truly an enjoyable evening. Before the Elders left that night they asked me if I would like to be present at a baptism they were holding the following day. I told them I would be there. I was not only there, but I was baptized myself, and my little baby, Jane, was blessed by Elder Dixon. The wonderful testimony I received that night has never left me. After we had joined the Mormon Church, my folks thought I had disgraced them, all except the Stourleys.
Father's people were all living in Scotland, so our only associates were the Mormon Elders and converts to the Church.
The spirit of immigration had taken hold of us, and the Gospel meant more to us than anything, so we began saving and preparing to immigrate with the Saints to Zion.
Elizabeth, our second baby, was born on April 17, 1864, while living at Port Elizabeth, she was blessed by Elder Harry Rempton.
Father was working at his trade in a flour mill and we lived near a family named Leo. They had a large baboon which they were keeping for circus use. He was kept chained at the corner of the house, so he could look in the window. His name was Jocko. I always spoke to Jocko when I would go to the house, so he became quite well acquainted with me. I would say, "Good morning, Jocko," and he would always bow to me. One morning I rushed to the house on an errand and passed Jocko without speaking to him. I went into the house and was sitting in view of the window, talking to Mrs. Leo, when a rock whissed past my head. We went to the door and looked out. There sat the baboon crouched down with a sack over his head, peeking out at me with one eye. He had become enraged because I didn't speak to him before going to the house. There was a Mrs. Wilks visiting with Mrs Leo and we all went outside and tried to make friends with him. Mrs. Wilks put her hand out to shake hands with him. Mrs. Leo told her she had better not, but Jocko grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Mrs. Leo was standing close by and pulled Mrs. Wilks away from Jocko before he could hurt her. Jocko began to squeal and cry, and rant like he was crazy. He grabbed hands full of gravel and threw it ast us. We were all frightened away, and told Mr. Leo of Jocko's frantic actions. Mr. Leo took a whip and gave him a good thrashing.
All of us that were there left, but the baboon still manifested revenge. To show his spite, Jocko took the slop pail and put it in the middle of the floor. Then he took from the cupboard, sugar, rice, beans, spices and everything else he could find, dumped them all in the pail and stirred it with a stick and then pulled the chairs over the top of it, also the table and the bedding, and then he ran away and hid.
They didn't see him for several days, but finally he got hungry and came into the garden, so they caught him and chained him up. A short while later the baboon broke loose again and ran into town and into the grocery store and stole a ham. Then he climbed on the top of the house. The grocer yelled at him and started after him. He jumped from one house to the other until he had covered several houses. Suddenly he looked down and saw a negro sitting there and left the ham and jumped down on the Negro. They caught him and chained him up again.
The Saints from the surrounding country began gathering and were camping on the beach getting ready to emigrate to Zion. We sold what holdings we possessed and joined the company encamped on the beach. It was while we were camping on the beach that my baby, Elizabeth, took sick and died (Jan. 2, 1865). We buried her on the beach. We notified our folks of the baby's death, but none of them came to see us. We continued our residence on the beach while preparing for our voyage. We boarded ship April 10, 1865. My old minister of the Church of England came on board ship to talk to me. He said, "Lizzie, you better reconsider what you are doing an stay here with us." I told him no - I knew what I was right in what I was doing. He said, "Why don't you know that the Government of the United States is sending an army to Utah for the purpose of exterminating all Mormons. They will kill and hang them all." I said, "Alright, I will go and be hanged with the rest of them." He was very disgusted with my independent attitude and left the ship without wishing me good luck, a pleasant voyage, or anything else.
Naturally, I thought of leaving my people and going far away,especially after the hateful attitude they had taken toward us after we joined the church, but I could find consolation in this matter with the fact that I had a soul to save and I was positive that may cause was right. There was a fear more grievious nature that seemed to be uppermost in my mind for I was leaving the precious remains of my baby there on the beach, in the cold soil of a distant ladn for this my heart was extremely sad. After I had been on the ship for 3 days, I lie in my bed and sobbed and prayed earnestly to my God for comfort in this direction. Sometime during the night, I dreamed that I held my baby in my arms and that she wasc oming with me. So real was this dream, that I awoke, and on awaking, I felt the baby so plainly in my arms that I looked to see if it really was there. I felt comforted and from that time on, whenever I thought of my little girl, I felt like she was coming with us.
The Brig Mexicana was the name of the ship we sailed on. We left port Elizabeth, South Africa on Arpil 10, 1865 with 47 saints on board. Minder G. Atwoods, presiding while father as ship steward. Our Captain remarked it was the most pleasant voyage he ahd ever experienced - the water was so smooth and calm and the ship scarcely moved at times.
Enroute to the promised land, we only met one vessel in hailing distance - the usual question was aksed of our Captian, "What are you loaded with?" The reply was sheep skins and Mormons. All the people on that ship cheered and laughed. We saw other saints at a distance.
When we crossed the Equator, the sailors played jokes and had their own fun initiating us to "KIng Neptune" or the "Ancient Order of the Deep". They spent almost the entire night playing ghost tricks on each other. Once, the sailors were all on deck & in great excitement, they yelled, "Man overboard!" After all the passengers got up, dressed and ran up on the deck, they had a dummy prepared, through him overboard and then drew him back. The sailors had fine fun by resorting to all kinds of capers to try to excite us. There was very little seasickness and all enjoyed the trip. Shortly after we crossed the Equator, a very dear friend of ours, a Brother Kershaw, took sick and died. For 4 days before he died, two sharks followed the ship, but they were never seen again and his body was buried at sea.
We landed in New York on June 18, 1865. Making just 69 days on the water. After landing in New York, we went by street car and train to the Mississippi and crossed the river by steamboat, then up the Missouri River to St. Joseph (Missouri). Here we stopped for a while preparing for our tedious journey across the plains. We started our journey with Brother Walker's company known as the The Independent Company, August 12, 1865. Father & I walked for the entire journey. We walked, drove ox teams, and pushed hand carts for the privilege of having our little girl and luggage hauled by wagons. We would start out in the morning singing as we traveled; camp for a couple of hours at noon; then travel on all afternoon, always happy and cheerful-singing and making merry. When the wagon train would camp for the night, the woman folks would put on their big aprons and start in search of fuel with which to cook our meal and keep us warm. It was amusing to see the sisters coming to camp from all directions with aprons loaded with buffalo chips with which to start fires.
All night the wagons were drawn up in a circle and each family would prepare and eat their own meals. During the evening some would rest from their weary journey of the day; others would dance and try to make merry. One of them of the company usually played the violin, and many times I played the harmonica for the people to dance. Before retiring for the night, the whole company would circle around and sing a hymn and then kneel in prayer. In the morning we would also sing a hymn and have a prayer before starting our day, after which, breakfast would be served. While we women were cleaning up the dishes and taking care of the food, the men folk would be putting the yokes on the oxen and then we would be on our way. The Company was united as one large family. If one would start to sing, the whole company would join in, while traveling.
We had one big scare on our journey and it happened one Friday night, September 22. We came to a camp where the brush was all piled upand ready for a fire. On a buffalo skull, we saw some writing which was as follows: Captain Miner G. Atwood's Company had camped here a few nights previous and were preparing camp when two of the women went to the spring for water. One of the women was carried off by Indians, and several of the men were wounded trying to rescue her. They never recovered her, so the company left there and camped on a nearby hill. Our company left the spring also and camped at a dry camp on the hill. We were not molested, but some of the cattle died of thirst. Or trip was enjoyable for the rest of the journey.
We arrived in Salt Lake City November 9, having been 3 months lacking 3 days on this journey. When we realized that we had actually reached our destination, and our journey was over, our hearts went out in gratitude and thanksgiving to our Father in Heaven for his protecting care over us and for our safe delivery.
That night, Brother Alex Piper came to our camp hunting a miller. He wanted a man experienced in making flour, so father hired out to him and we went to live in Sugar House Ward. There my twin babies were born on July 15, 1866. We named them Thomas and Ellen.
Some 3 months before the birth of the twins, I was sitting in the house, not thinking of any Indians being around. I looked up and saw an old indian looking through the window, his nose was fairly flattened out with him pressing it so hard against the pane, and of course, this sight frightened me immensley. I could neither speak or more. When he saw he had frightened me, he left and went to the mill and told father, "You go home quick, me scare your squaw!"
After a while, I thought nothing more of the fright, but when my twins were born, the first one, a girl, had two tiny white hairs sticking up as feathers right in the center of the top of her head. These remained for some time, finally turning black and became more shining black than the rest of her hair, and always wanted to stick straight up until she grew up.
That fall, we moved from Sugar House to the Fifth Ward, where father went to work on a canal of Charles Lambard. In the process of moving, the team became frightened and ran away, strewing and breaking up what furniture we had. Our bedstead was broken, so all we had to sleep on was a straw tick on the floor. Father would gather wood and carry it home on his back at night after work to keep us warm.
After the canal was finished, father went to work in the mountains, west of the valley, peeling bark for a tanery. He was hired by a Mr. Barton, who lived in Salt Lake. He promised father he would see that his family would be cared for while he was absent from us in the timber. Deep snows came and father couldn't get home, and Mr. Barton never once came to see if we needed anything. The snow was two feet deep or more and I was obliged to wade around in the snow, often wet to my waist, gathering willows or anything that would burn.
My little girl, Jane (5 years old then) and I lived on flour cakes made with flour and water and baked on top of the stove. Our drink was wild peppermint tea with no sugar or cream. I nursed my two babies, who were six months old at the time.
Around the first of February, we were without anything to eat, so I carried babies, and Jane walked and I walked to the 7th Ward where Mr. Barton lived. On reaching his place, we found he was not at home. We returned back to the 5th Ward and saw the Bishop, and got some olive oil to give the children, as they all had whooping cough. From there, I went to the 11th Ward to see Brother Marks. He gave us dinner and enough flour to make about 1 loaf of bread. Faint with exhaustion from walking with babies, I was too weak to carry the babies and the flour, so I left the flour and started to go home with the children. After I was out on the road, I met a woman who said to me, "You poor woman, how far have you got to carry those babies?" While we were talking, a man came along with some running gears. The lady knew him so she asked him if he would take me home, as he only lived a block from our home. He took us to his home and we walked the rest of the way home. I managed to get to the house with the children but collapsed when I got in the house, and fell across the bed in a dead faint. I never knew anymore until the morning, when I awoke and found myself fully dressed.
I asked Jane how she managed with the babies, and she said, "I tried to wake you, but I couldn't. The babies cried themselves to sleep. I pulled a quilt over you and crawled into bed myself and went to sleep."
I got up and left the babies sleeping and went back to Brother Marks and got the flour that he gave me. Jane and I had our breakfast of flour and water cakes. With my entire house without food, I was determined that my children would not suffer any longer, but without having any breakfast to strengthen me, and with all 3 babies on my hands, how to get to town, get any food and get it home, was indeed, a problem. There was no means of delivering groceries in those days. I went to the Lord in prayer to solve my problem. I asked that I might be successful in obtaining food for my children and also have the strength to get home. No sooner had I left the house, when and Indian girl came up to me and said, "Me take papoose," and she carried one of the babies all the way to town and back home for me. We went to Mr. Lambard's home first and he gave me an order to Charles Taylor's meat market (which was way up in the 13th Ward) for a piece of meat and flour. After we rested a while, the Indian girl picked up her choice of the twins (the boy) and we started on our way home, after we had walked about 13 blocks, we reached my humble little home which appeared both cold and lonesome. I got rid of my load as soon as possible, the little Indian girl came in and laid the baby on the bed and stepped out the door. I went to thank her for her kindness and ask her to have supper with me, but she had vanished – I never saw her again knowingly.
A few days later, Father came home and found his baby, Tom, nearly dead from whooping cough. He never went back in the mountains any more and was never paid for the work he had done.
We got along fairly well for the balance of the winter because father was there to help out, and lifted a great burden from me.
In the spring of 1867, we moved to Farmington, and father hired out to Samuel Richards, working in his flour mill at Farmington. While here, we fed lots of Indians, and father gave them a lot of flour. One old Indian squaw would ask me for my baby, Tom. Every time she would come to the house, she would see that I had twins and say, "You don't need two babies, me take boy." She was persistent in her pleas for my baby boy, I was afraid she would try to steal him sometime. It was quite a relief to me when winter came and all the Indians returned to their winter home (the reservation).
I'll always remember the spring of 1868. I had not seen any Indians as yet – one day I had just finished spreading bread and butter and gave each child a slice, and went to the spring to get some water, and you can imagine my fright and surprise when I returned to see the house full of papooses fighting over my children's bread and butter. I soon calmed myself enough to spread them all some bread and butter and get them to go outside and eat it.
MARY ANN (my great grandmother - JTW) was born July 26, 1868, and she was always afraid of Indians. Our next move was to Centerville, Utah, where father ran Anson V. Call Mill. Cathryn Elizabeth was born here, July 18, 1870. We made this our home till late fall, the water all froze up diminishing the power so it was difficult to run the mill at all. We moved back to Farmington until the following summer when father worked in Thomas Steed's mill.
We next moved to Kaysville where father went to work at Bishop Layton's mill and on October 3, 1872, our son, Alexander, was born. After the baby was born, I suddenly was taken with hemorrhage. I became very weak from the loss of blood. I put my hands up to my head and my head was cold as ice. I spoke to the midwife who was washing the baby and told her I was dying. At this time we two women were the only ones in the house. She put the baby down and came and prayed for me – she prayed that I might live – and immediately after that I felt my head getting warm, and soon the hemorrhage stopped and I began to feel better, although I had bled severely I never had another bad spell.
We moved to Bountiful from Kaysville and father ran Heber C. Kimball's mill, and as before, we were pestered by Indians begging for flour and bran. In the fall of 1874, we went to Salt Lake City and had our temple endowments, and on March 2, 1875, our son William was born. On April 1, 1877, our son James was born, and on October 25, 1879 our daughter, Hannah Isabella, was born. All three were born in Centerville.
Four or five days after James was born, I was suddenly taken ill with very hard cramps. Father had been working days and nights until he was overcome with exhaustion. He came home about 2 a.m. and laid down on the floor with some of the children and was soon asleep. My pains kept getting worse and I couldn't get any relief, so I called to him several times, but could not awaken him. Suddenly, the door opened and our neighbor (a man with a wooden leg) came in. At first, I was frightened, then I saw the wooden leg push forward and knew who it was. He came to my beside and I told him I was very sick. "Yes," he said, "I know you are, but how did Brother Sim(s) get to sleep so quick?" I told him I had been calling Alex for half an hour, but could not awaken him. He said, "Why Sister Sim(s), Brother Sim(s) just called at my house a few minutes ago and tapped 3 times on the window and spoke to me and told me to come here as soon as I could."
The Brother gave me some medicine he had in a tiny bottle and administered to me. I began to feel better immediately. He sat with me for a half an hour or more until I became stronger, then he left the little bottle of medicine for me to use if needed again, then he went home. When father awoke next morning, he didn't know that I had been sick or that anyone had come to see me.
In the spring of 1879, father & Tom started to Bear Lake. They got a ride to Cache Valley, then walked through the mountain to Paris, Idaho. Night over-took them while in the mountains and they were tried, so they stopped, made a fire, and Tom laid down and went to sleep. Along in the night, while sitting by the fire, Father heard something coming toward him. He could see by firelight it was a big bear.
He didn't wake Tom as he thought he might be frightened; soon the bear gave a snort and ran away. The next morning, they pursued their journey and arrived in Paris the next evening.
Father went right to work for Able Rich putting the machinery in shape and putting the burra in the mill. They stayed in Paris until October, then returned home.
While attending April Conference in Salt Lake City in 18880, we met a Brother Merkley, who owned a flour mill in St. Charles, Idaho. He hired Father to fix his mill up and run it for him. So, in May 1880, Father and Tom started again for Bear Lake. They were successful in securing a ride as far as Logan, but were obliged to walk through the mountains to Bear Lake.
When reaching St. Charles, they went to work getting the mill in shape and was soon turning out flour for the community. In June, he sent Boone Bunderson down to Centerville with team and covered wagon to move the family to St. Charles. We were five days making the trip. James carried his cat in his arms all the way. We moved in the old Charlie French residence.
It didn't take long to get acquainted here. We scarcely got settled when young people began calling us, and before long, our home seemed to be the principle gathering place for the young people of the town. We had formed the habit of having family prayer at morning and night since we were married and started keeping house. Due to so many young people coming and staying late in the evening, this practice was discontinued.
My twins (boys) Alfred George an Alvin John were born at St. Charles on May 31, 1882. In July of this year, the dreaded disease of Diphtheria struck our home and MARY ANN and Isabella were stricken down. It had taken a severe hold on MARY ANN before we knew what the trouble was. We sent to Paris for Dr. Emmaline Rich, who, when she came in, pointing to MARY ANN, said, "That child is beyond recovery, she will die, but we might save the other one." She was so sure MARY ANN would die, that she never seemed to do much for her. After the doctor had left, Father administered to her and we had faith in her recovery. That night, MARY ANN woke up and said, "Father, if you will send for Brother McCann (a Patriarch) to come and administer to me I know I will get well." So, Brother McCann was sent for at once. He lived in Fish Haven, five miles from St. Charles. He came immediately and when he anointed and administered to her, he promised her she would recover from the sickness and that she would live to become a mother in Israel. He turned to me and said, "Sister Sims, you have a large family, but not another one of your children will get this disease. I rebuke it from your house, and your girls who are sick, shall be healed and if any of the rest of your children do get it, it won't hurt them." Two or three of the older children had slight sore throats, but they didn't get anything - so I lived to see Brother McCann's words fulfilled.
In the fall of 1882, we bought and moved into our own home, which was only a short distance from the mill. Here, on October 3, 1884, our son George was born. Father had been watching the boys growing up. Tom was 18 years old, and the oldest son, so he felt like he had better find a tract of land where he could employ these young men. He filed a homestead on a quarter section of land just south of the Utah/Idaho line, on the west shore of Bear Lake. Here, we established a permanent residence.
Father proceeded at once to try to get water out on the homestead. He filed the priority water right on Swan Creek. He and his sons commenced at once to build a dam across the head of Swan Creek and to dig a cut through a hill 30 fee deep, most of this depth was solid rock, and required blasting with powder. With no capital to work with and to support a wife and 12 children, it was an extremely difficult and tedious task; but Father would often paint a picture to the boys of the future, showing them that only a little longer and they the cold begin to reap the benefits of their labor. This would encourage them and spur them on with new energy, and so it was for a period of nine years, which time ti tool to put the water on the farm.
He put up a saw mill and hauled out logs and sawed them for the building of the dam. Some of the boys would catch fish out of Bear Lake and sell to help support the family, most of the fishing would be done at night, so it wouldn't interfere with the work on the ditch. Before the cut was completed we had 7 boys of our own all working with him to bring the water to cultivate the land, and working in every way they could to establish the homestead (a pretty good force for one father to raise).
The cut was now completed and the canal was ready for its stream, so all interested in the labor and building of the dam an canal prepared to celebrate the big event, the celebration was to be held on June 15, 1893, so on the 13th, to be sure the water would run through the cut and reach the farm, some of the stockholders went with Father up the ditch to the head of the dam. Father turned in what water he figured was efficient to reach the farm and do no damage, but Mr. Wilson and Mr. Briton, who's claims lay farther north, were fearful that the stream would not be large enough to reach their land, because the ditch was new and its banks dry in most places, a great part of the water would soak into the ground, so they persuaded Father to turn more water in from the head, which he did. As they followed down the cut he could see he had turned in too much water, and the stream wold probably break through the bank and cause them extra work.
Mr. Wilson and Briton went on around the ditch from the cut, watching the water through the new ditch, and Father went back up to the head to cut down the stream. Father had sent son James to the mill to bring back some tools to the cut, walking down the hill and along the ditch, he stopped and was looking down at James. James look back and saw his father standing there and he seemed to feel that was the last time would ever see him. Jim worried about this, but went to get the tools, when he returned to the cut, he stopped and looked up where he saw his father, and it was as though someone spoke to him telling him he would never see his father again. He went to the cut, left the tools, then returned to the house and went out on the lake fishing. Tom was also at the Lake, the boys were seining suckers.
About 9 p.m., Tom got very uneasy and wanted to go home. He said to his brother-in-law, who was with him, "Come on FRED (WINDLEY), let's go home." When he reached home, he learned Father had not returned fro the dam where he went to turn off part of the water. I was also very uneasy and worried all evening sine Father did not come back to the house. I knew, however, he often stopped at a mine where Sile Wilcox was working and would be late getting home, but we all felt the same uneasiness about him.
Tom and FRED (WINDLEY) went straight up to the dam, not seeing or hearing anything from him, they followed down the Swan creek to Cook's Saw Mill where Edgar Allred was sawing lumber. They asked if he had seen Father, but not learning anything, returned home. They didn't stop at the house; they mounted horses and rode to Mr. Wilson's and told him that Father had not been home since they accompanied him to the dam to turn in the water. Mr. Wilson got his ranch hands out of bed and sent them to Fish Haven to round up a search party to go look for him. Soon after, about 11 p.m., they were a good number of men upon the creek searching every part of it for him. About 12 o'clock midnight, the lifeless body was found in the cold, swift stream. Help was summoned and the body was recovered. Upon Examining the body, it was learned that his head was crushed and some bad bruises on his body, so the supposition is that Father accidently became unbalanced and fell from the head gate on top of the dam into the raging stream below and was killed instantly and did not drown. Mr. Wilson brought the body home in his buckboard, and the group that had been searching for him departed. However, some of the men stopped at the house and assisted in washing, dressing and laying him out.
This was the great trial of my life, the pains, distress, hardships, privations, and sorrows of all my previous life seemed as naught, when I came to realize that fate had come to Father, that he must quit life in such a sad and sudden way, and at the very climax of his life, when the drudgery and toil was now over, and the anticipation of these wearisome years were realized. It had been his whole ambition to get the water to the farm and to see his family become independent farmers.
In the morning, when we heard they had turned the water to reach its destination, our hearts rejoiced. We felt that the great task was over and we could breathe a sigh of relief. The greatest object of Father's life had been reached, but our hearts were heavy that he wasn't there to share the joy and feeling of accomplishment.
This terrible sorrow seemed more than I could bear, sometimes I felt that I would rather die too, then to try and go on, but I was forced to realize I still had my children with me and I should not despair, but carry on and live for them.
At this time I had four daughters in a delicate condition when the sad news of their father's death reached them and I worried what the results may be to them of such a sudden shock. I am sure this helped me to keep up.
I had many staunch friends who came and offered assistance and sympathy. Using all the power I could exhort, and with all my children, kindsman and friends trying to console me, the most awful gloom seemed at times to hover around me that at times I felt that I was smothering, and for many days my mind seemed dazed, and ever since his death, I have experienced spells when it seemed grief would overcome me. Mr. Wilson, one of the principal stockholders in the dam project, bought and paid for the casket and the digging of the grave, and another friend and neighbor, Alonzo Cook, bought the burial clothes. Father was quietly laid to rest in the Fish Haven Cemetery on the 15th day of July 1893.
My four girls who were expecting babies all gave birth to four healthy babies, three of these precious souls lived to maturity and are the happy parents of large families. The fourth babe, Jane's boy, died at the tender age of six months.
At this time of sorrow, a Mrs. Gheen, who was always a very close friend of ours, (her stepson married my daughter, Ellen) came to my home and gave me strength and courage, she was always near whenever I needed her.
I will now mention a few items that I trust will prove of interest to my boys and girls, as well as the multitude of grandchildren and friends who will some day read this biography.
I remained on this homestead to witness its growth and development, which for nine long wearisome years, was the pride and ambition of Father's life. The 160 acres which looked almost barren wilderness when we moved on it that cold November of 1884 – for all those nine years the need of water was the great drawback on the farm. Since water became available we found the soil fertile and productive and in the course of time all the avaliable land in the homestead became under cultivation and once barren ground had become a beautiful land of wheat fields, green meadows, orchards and gardens. We learned that almost and seed when put in the ground and watered and cared for would grow well.
Since the boys were instrumental in the development of this company farm, and as a token and esteem of parental love, and to show them my appreciation of their courage and cooperation in the development of the farm, I divided the homestead into seven distinct farms and deeded his own tract to each son as his heritage, but lured away by the other attractions, mot of the boys sold their tracks and moved away.
Tom sold his land and moved to Garden City, Utah;
Alex sold his land and went to California, but soon returned to Bear Lake;
William moved to Big Horn country in the eastern part of Wyoming, and later to Freeport, Oregon;
James still remained on his little farm as long as he lived;
Alfred made his home in Salt Lake City for several years, but is now residing in Montebello, California. His twin brother Alvin lived in Star Valley, Wyoming for some years, but later moved to New Plymouth, Idaho; and George enlisted in the army and went to Mexico and later Arizona.
In 1912, Isabella lived straight across the lake at South Eden (this was on the east shore of the Lake and our home was on the west side of the lake, perhaps a distance of 15 miles by a straight line). On June 25th, they took me over to their home, which was Hyrum Nebeker's Ranch at South Eden.
On July 2nd, Alfred came across the lake in his gasoline launch, and after having dinner, I got on the launch with Alfred and he took me home. We sailed across the lake and landed safely on the other shore.
ONE LINE OF THE BIOGRAPHY HAS BEEN CUT OFF FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE, I WILL CONTINUE WITH THE REST)
Also several other young people, I remarked to Alex that it sure seemed natural to come home and find the young folks visiting here, as my home for many years had been the gathering place for the young people. This was the last visit I made and of my children, spending the summer on the homestead most of the time, with an occasional trip to Garden City.
Thus ends the words of my mother: ELIZABETH ELDORTHA MCDERMOTT SIMS.
I, Isabella, will now complete her biographical sketch the best I can.
In all the years I knew my mother, she was everything a mother could be; tolerance and understanding were a special quality of hers. She particularly showed much tolerance with her boys, no matter what their course might be, in them her eyes could only see perfection, and many time friends who were closely associated with the family would remark that mother was cruelly kind to her boys.
On October 14, 1912, the dawn of her 71st birthday, Mother was taken ill. Alex was the only one with her. He prepared a foot bath and she stooped to bathe her feet and apoplexy (stroke) seized her. She lapsed into unconsciousness and almost immediately and hemorrhage started and she slowly bled to death. She never fully regained consciousness, but would rally few times and ask to have all the children with her.
A few days before her death, she raised up in her bed, with arms extended and said, in a clear voice, "Wait Pa, wait, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming." Then she sank back on her pillow, and never attempted to speak again.
She passed away peacefully on October 22, 1912 and was laid to rest in the Garden City Cemetery October 24, 1912.
I have been collecting data for this history since my father's death in 1893, expecting to compile it later when my notes were all completed. I have finally completed this task - October 14, 1933 – on my mother's 92nd birthday, and in honor of Mother's birthday, my sister Ellen and her husband, Stephen and I, and my husband, went to the Salt Lake Temple and had mother sealed to her parents and Ellen, Elizabeth, and MARY ANN were all sealed to our mother and father. So ended the worry of the work that mother in all her declining years was always anxious about, but never had the opportunity of doing herself. She had asked that we girls do this work for her, so we thought it fitting to this work this day. We came from the Temple with light and happy hearts, satisfied that our efforts were gladly accepted by her an father and feeling that we could have done her no greater honor on this, her birthday, than to have this work completed, that seemed to be uppermost in her mind.
A while after Mother's death, my husband, Samuel and I bought the homestead and made our home there until his death March 7, 1922. Leaving me with five daughters and two little sons.
It is now the Spring of 1951 and there aren't many of mother's children left. I sincerely hope all of mother's descendants will be able to enjoy and benefit from this biography.
Elizabeth Eldortha McDermott was born October 14, at Rounda Bush, East Province, South Africa, daughter of James McDermott and Johanna Smyth.
My father was a shoemaker or as it would be today, a shoe manufacturer. He tanned his own leather and I often helped to wash the thread that he used to sew the shoes. It was all done by hand; he had the best materials as well as workmanship. He could guarantee his shoes for at least a year. They didn't size the shoes, but measured and fit each foot. He took great pride in his work, good judgment and skill. Mother was also neat and an expert seamstress and displayed great abilities in fancy needle work. She was also a good housekeeper and a splendid cook.
They belonged to the Church of England and Father's custom was to read a chapter of the Bible every morning, then had family prayer before breakfast. They always taught us children to read from the Bible and that's how I got my early schooling -- reading the bible.
They had six children as follows: 1. Margaret (Married Alfred Walton (English)); 2. Elizabeth Eldortha (Married Alexander Sims (Scottish)); 3. Michael (wife unknown)); 4. Cornelius (wife unknown)); 5. Isabella (Married Alfred Walker (English)); and 6. John (wife unknown)).
We had to walk everywhere we went. I remember one time my sister Margaret and I were going to the next settlement, as we were passing a large mountain, to our astonishment, we saw large rocks rolling down the mountain side towards us. As one came farther down the hill, we could see it was a big dog, and as the top of the mountain was between us and the sun, we could very plainly see that what looked like little heads coming over the mountain were wild men. Magaret took me on her back and ran, this way we escaped the dog, bur on our return trip home we could see the dog tracks, hd had crossed our trail and circling around through the brush and returned up the mountain again. These wild men were known to steal anything they could get hold of (children and goats) so we felt lucky to have gotten away from them.
On an occasion when Mother & I were visiting with my aunt and uncle who owned a flour mill, the boys would set snares in the mill to catch pheasants. One day my cousins and I went to see if anything had been caught in the snare. We were laughing and talking when all at once we heard a rushing noise in the mill, we were all frightened and ran back into the house, and told their father, who took his gun and went with us. When he opened the door we could see there had been wild men in the bin stealing flour and there was a square window about four feet from the floor which they made their escape from the mill. We had frightened them so, that in their haste to get away they had strewn flour across the floor, and must of dove through the window, as they left prints of their bodies in the sand showing that they had landed on their stomachs. We followed them for a mile or more, my uncle shot his gun several times to frighten them. We never saw amy more of the wild men, only a trail of flour as far as we could see. I don't think they ever came back again.
In the fall we children would go out under the trees with sacks to gather nuts from the trees. The trees would always be full of monkeys. We would throw rocks at them and they would throw nuts back at us, then they would get so excited they would start jumping from limb to limg shaking the nuts down and we would pick them up, fill our sacks and go home.
I remember one day Mother & I were walking through a grove of trees. We saw a big group of monkeys crossing the road, when they saw us, they lined up on each side of the road facing us and stool like soldiers in a row. We picked up a stick and pointed it at them and they would jump back. Mother said they thought we had guns. I saw a baby monkey sitting alone on the road. It was tempting to leave alone, and just as I went to take hold of it's tail, Mother jerked me back saying, "if you had made it squeal, the whole group would have been on top of us." There were so many of them, they would have torn us to pieces.
A short time later, my parents consented to let me live with a Mrs. Lovemore and family, who shortly after I came to live with them, moved to Quakers Flat, taking me with them. Mother didn't know that they planned on moving out of town when she gave her consent for me to live with them.
I was only eight years old and thought it would be fun to live on a big estate in the country. Before Mother let me go with them, she made Mrs. Lovemore promise to let me go to school with their children (they had a private teacher) so I bid good-bye to my folks, and never to see my father again.
The Lovemore's hired Kaffir people to do all the heavy work on the farm. They would milk the cows, and strain the milk into forty gallon barrels, which were equipped with a handle on each end of the rod. Two Kaffir women would each take hold of a handle, and a man would start the barrel revolving and the women would keep it in motion, until the butter came. Sometimes it would take half a day or so to churn the butter to a golden yellow and sweet, lovely flavor. I have never tasted butter in America that can in any way compare with it.
The Kaffir girls did all the washing. They would scour the tin and buckets with sand and keep them as bright as a looking glass.
My work, while there, was to care for the babies, and bathe the other children and comb their hair and dress them for school. Although Mrs. Lovemore had promised Mother she would send me to school, she never kept her promise. With the little schooling I had before leaving my father and mother, I went on learning to read by studying the Bible (that is why I say I was educated out of the Bible). It was also my job to see that the other children studed their lessons each evening, and as I was eager to learn, this gave me just the opportunity I wanted. I think I got as much or more out of their studies as they did.
Each day, the children would take their lessons to school and recite to the teacher. She would assign them their next leson to bring home and I would help each one prepare their work for the following day.
The Kaffir women would do the washing and all the heavy work, but after I was ten years old, I had to do all the ironing. There was a large family of girls and they all wore full skirts that came right down to their toes. the dresses were trimmed with yards of ruffles, and they were all starched so stiff that when I got them ironed, they stand up all alone on the floor. One day, I stood them all on their bedroom floor, which had a curtain at the door. Then I raised the curtains so they could just see the bottoms of the dressed and then I called the girls to come and see. After they had all taken a peek, they said, "Elizabeth, who are all those little girls?" Then I pulled back the curtains and showed them all their dresses standing on the floor, close together filling the room. They all had a good laugh at the joke I had played on them, but it only meant the finish of a long, hard day's work for me, until the next week. (The girls had bonnets to match the dresses.) I would stand in the hot kitchen and iron until I was ready to drop while the other children were out playing in the shade.
Sometimes we would go to a large corral full of goats, among them an old billy goat tat would chase us. The corral was a woven brush fence with the posts driven in the ground and the willows around them, as we would weave a basket. It was made oblong and would hold about 500 goats. We would all get at different places on top of the pen and then jump off inside and the old Billy would make for one of us, who would climb over the top, then he would turn and go for another. One morning we had benn playing a long time, when old Billy went after me. I ran farther along the fence, before climbing over and I hit something as I went I looked to see what I had stumbled against and there laid a wild man on his stomach with his hands under his head and his elbows sticking out each side. He was sound asleep and all of our laughing and shouting didn't wake him. We ran to the house and told Mr. Lovemore, who took his gun and shot over the man's head. He jumped up and stretched his arms straight out each side of hm and ran as hard as he could go over the Flats. He looked like a big bird flying. Evidently he had come to steal a goat, but finding the hole in the fence, had laid down to take a nap, but over slept. They had stolen quite a few goats before that, but they never came back again. I guess the shot had given him quite a fright.
We had such an even climate there. The only way we could tell winter was that it rained more then. The cattle and sheep fed in green pastures the year round.
The Kaffirs built their huts in the low-lands. This marshy ground was also the habitation of the boa constrictor. This big snake would swallow a child as quick as ti would a calf or an other food. The Kaffirs were always watching them.
One day a man came to the house quite excited and called us to go and see a snake that had just swallowed a calf. There it lay, sound asleep, and we could see the form of the calf in the snake's stomach. The man shot it.
When I was sixteen years old, the Kaffir was broke out, and all the towns were heavily guarded. No white person was allowed out of their homes after nightfall.
At this time I had formed a habit of walking in my sleep. I was guarded very close at night, as the people know of my practice of walking while asleep. They were afraid I would get outside and be shot as a spy. One night while walking around in my sleep, I fell over a stool and woke myself up and I was never to walk in my sleep again.
Now it will be remembered that nine years have passed since I saw my mother or any of my family. (I am 18 years old now.)
I dreamed I saw my mother and my youngest brother coming in a covered wagon, and on arising the next morning, I said to Mrs. Lovemore, "My Mother is coming today." After watching for them all day, toward evening I saw them coming, and they looked exactly as I had seen them in my dream, so I knew immediately it was them, and ran a half a mile or more to meet them. I climbed into the wagon and kissed them. Only God in Heaven knew the joy in my heart at meeting them. I saw a sad look in my mother's face and knew she was in trouble. She told me my father had passed away and she had come for me.
Then I accompanied my mother to her sister's (Elizabeth Moulder) where we spent three months. While there, I, for the first time in my life, was allowed to go to dances and parties, so needless to say, I greatly enjoyed the visit.
I didn't appreciate going back to the Lovemore's, but not long after my return to the Lovemore home, a Mr. Alexander Sim(s) came to work as an apprentice in the Lovemore flour mill. In all my life, I had met but a few young men, so when this young man cme on the property and took up his vocation sonear me, we soon became very much attached to each other. However, close restrictions were placed upon me because the Lovemores didn't want to loose me, because of the work I would daily accomplish for them. So, on rare occasions, I was permitted to be in Mr Sim(s) company. Eventually he revealed to them that hew as expecting to marry me. Mr. Sim(s) was the son of Thomas Sim(s) and Mary Jane Innes, born November 14, 1835 in Aberdeen, Aberdeenshire, Scotland.
After he had completed his apprenticeship as a mill right and machinist, were were married in Gramestown. At this time I was 20 years old. This was the spring of 1861 and soon after our marriage, my husband bought what was known as "The Winds Flour Mill" at Gramestown, so here we made our home and he continued working at his trade of running the flour mill. He had to depend upon the pond for power to run the mill and so it soon became too tedious and slow for him.
It was here in Gramestown, my first baby was born, April 9, 1862, a little girl named Jane. When Jane was six months old, my husband sold the mill and went to Port Elizabeth to work. He boarded with a family by the mane of Leo and worked with a man by the name of Fred Ardor. These people were all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
One day when Mr. Ardor went to dinner, he left a Book of Mormon laying on the table, and as my husband was always a great reader, he cam upon this book and began reading it. He asked many questions in regards to the new book which interested him from the first time he saw it.
After they had discussed the book and its origin, etc., Mr. Ardor invited him to accompany him to a meeting that night. Upon reaching the meeting house, he met Elders Fotheringham & Dixon, who were conducting the meeting. When he saw these two Elders and was reminded that he had seen these two men, previously, in a dream, and recognized them as being servants of God who had the true gospel. He had always been a great reader of the bible, but contended that the ministers never placed the proper interpretation to the scriptures. As soon as he heard these Elders proclaim the Gospel in its true light and under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, he knew they were telling the truth and wer men sent from God, so almost immediately he became converted and asked to be baptized.
Early in the month of January 1863, he was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, by Brother Henry Dixon, and confirmed a member in the church the same day.
I was visiting the Lovemores at this time and they treated me fine, so I enjoyed my visit very much. I went to my cousin's (James Stirly) and stayed five or six weeks from there and then my husband came for me and took me home with him.
As we were enroute for home, we passed a little church which bore the inscription The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My husband pointed to it and said to me, "That is my church, the one I now belong to." I looked and read the inscription and said, "Surely you have not joined the Mormons?" He answered that he had and I said, "Well, that sound very funny to me as I have heard so many unfavorable reports about them." He didn't invite me to go to his church with him, but he continued meeting with the Elders regularly; attending church whenever they would have a meeting. During this time, I was attending the Church of England and one day the Elders were holding a meeting and I said to him, "I believe I will go with you and visit your church this afternoon." He said, "Very well, I will be glad to have you." So, I accompanied him to church and for the first time in my life listened to the Mormon Doctrine and the testimony of the Mormon Elders.
Father, as I referred to my husband after our baby was born, could see that I was favorably impressed with their sermons, so after the meeting, he introduced me to the Elders and we invited them home with us to dinner. They remained during the evening and needless to say, it was truly an enjoyable evening. Before the Elders left that night they asked me if I would like to be present at a baptism they were holding the following day. I told them I would be there. I was not only there, but I was baptized myself, and my little baby, Jane, was blessed by Elder Dixon. The wonderful testimony I received that night has never left me. After we had joined the Mormon Church, my folks thought I had disgraced them, all except the Stourleys.
Father's people were all living in Scotland, so our only associates were the Mormon Elders and converts to the Church.
The spirit of immigration had taken hold of us, and the Gospel meant more to us than anything, so we began saving and preparing to immigrate with the Saints to Zion.
Elizabeth, our second baby, was born on April 17, 1864, while living at Port Elizabeth, she was blessed by Elder Harry Rempton.
Father was working at his trade in a flour mill and we lived near a family named Leo. They had a large baboon which they were keeping for circus use. He was kept chained at the corner of the house, so he could look in the window. His name was Jocko. I always spoke to Jocko when I would go to the house, so he became quite well acquainted with me. I would say, "Good morning, Jocko," and he would always bow to me. One morning I rushed to the house on an errand and passed Jocko without speaking to him. I went into the house and was sitting in view of the window, talking to Mrs. Leo, when a rock whissed past my head. We went to the door and looked out. There sat the baboon crouched down with a sack over his head, peeking out at me with one eye. He had become enraged because I didn't speak to him before going to the house. There was a Mrs. Wilks visiting with Mrs Leo and we all went outside and tried to make friends with him. Mrs. Wilks put her hand out to shake hands with him. Mrs. Leo told her she had better not, but Jocko grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Mrs. Leo was standing close by and pulled Mrs. Wilks away from Jocko before he could hurt her. Jocko began to squeal and cry, and rant like he was crazy. He grabbed hands full of gravel and threw it ast us. We were all frightened away, and told Mr. Leo of Jocko's frantic actions. Mr. Leo took a whip and gave him a good thrashing.
All of us that were there left, but the baboon still manifested revenge. To show his spite, Jocko took the slop pail and put it in the middle of the floor. Then he took from the cupboard, sugar, rice, beans, spices and everything else he could find, dumped them all in the pail and stirred it with a stick and then pulled the chairs over the top of it, also the table and the bedding, and then he ran away and hid.
They didn't see him for several days, but finally he got hungry and came into the garden, so they caught him and chained him up. A short while later the baboon broke loose again and ran into town and into the grocery store and stole a ham. Then he climbed on the top of the house. The grocer yelled at him and started after him. He jumped from one house to the other until he had covered several houses. Suddenly he looked down and saw a negro sitting there and left the ham and jumped down on the Negro. They caught him and chained him up again.
The Saints from the surrounding country began gathering and were camping on the beach getting ready to emigrate to Zion. We sold what holdings we possessed and joined the company encamped on the beach. It was while we were camping on the beach that my baby, Elizabeth, took sick and died (Jan. 2, 1865). We buried her on the beach. We notified our folks of the baby's death, but none of them came to see us. We continued our residence on the beach while preparing for our voyage. We boarded ship April 10, 1865. My old minister of the Church of England came on board ship to talk to me. He said, "Lizzie, you better reconsider what you are doing an stay here with us." I told him no - I knew what I was right in what I was doing. He said, "Why don't you know that the Government of the United States is sending an army to Utah for the purpose of exterminating all Mormons. They will kill and hang them all." I said, "Alright, I will go and be hanged with the rest of them." He was very disgusted with my independent attitude and left the ship without wishing me good luck, a pleasant voyage, or anything else.
Naturally, I thought of leaving my people and going far away,especially after the hateful attitude they had taken toward us after we joined the church, but I could find consolation in this matter with the fact that I had a soul to save and I was positive that may cause was right. There was a fear more grievious nature that seemed to be uppermost in my mind for I was leaving the precious remains of my baby there on the beach, in the cold soil of a distant ladn for this my heart was extremely sad. After I had been on the ship for 3 days, I lie in my bed and sobbed and prayed earnestly to my God for comfort in this direction. Sometime during the night, I dreamed that I held my baby in my arms and that she wasc oming with me. So real was this dream, that I awoke, and on awaking, I felt the baby so plainly in my arms that I looked to see if it really was there. I felt comforted and from that time on, whenever I thought of my little girl, I felt like she was coming with us.
The Brig Mexicana was the name of the ship we sailed on. We left port Elizabeth, South Africa on Arpil 10, 1865 with 47 saints on board. Minder G. Atwoods, presiding while father as ship steward. Our Captain remarked it was the most pleasant voyage he ahd ever experienced - the water was so smooth and calm and the ship scarcely moved at times.
Enroute to the promised land, we only met one vessel in hailing distance - the usual question was aksed of our Captian, "What are you loaded with?" The reply was sheep skins and Mormons. All the people on that ship cheered and laughed. We saw other saints at a distance.
When we crossed the Equator, the sailors played jokes and had their own fun initiating us to "KIng Neptune" or the "Ancient Order of the Deep". They spent almost the entire night playing ghost tricks on each other. Once, the sailors were all on deck & in great excitement, they yelled, "Man overboard!" After all the passengers got up, dressed and ran up on the deck, they had a dummy prepared, through him overboard and then drew him back. The sailors had fine fun by resorting to all kinds of capers to try to excite us. There was very little seasickness and all enjoyed the trip. Shortly after we crossed the Equator, a very dear friend of ours, a Brother Kershaw, took sick and died. For 4 days before he died, two sharks followed the ship, but they were never seen again and his body was buried at sea.
We landed in New York on June 18, 1865. Making just 69 days on the water. After landing in New York, we went by street car and train to the Mississippi and crossed the river by steamboat, then up the Missouri River to St. Joseph (Missouri). Here we stopped for a while preparing for our tedious journey across the plains. We started our journey with Brother Walker's company known as the The Independent Company, August 12, 1865. Father & I walked for the entire journey. We walked, drove ox teams, and pushed hand carts for the privilege of having our little girl and luggage hauled by wagons. We would start out in the morning singing as we traveled; camp for a couple of hours at noon; then travel on all afternoon, always happy and cheerful-singing and making merry. When the wagon train would camp for the night, the woman folks would put on their big aprons and start in search of fuel with which to cook our meal and keep us warm. It was amusing to see the sisters coming to camp from all directions with aprons loaded with buffalo chips with which to start fires.
All night the wagons were drawn up in a circle and each family would prepare and eat their own meals. During the evening some would rest from their weary journey of the day; others would dance and try to make merry. One of them of the company usually played the violin, and many times I played the harmonica for the people to dance. Before retiring for the night, the whole company would circle around and sing a hymn and then kneel in prayer. In the morning we would also sing a hymn and have a prayer before starting our day, after which, breakfast would be served. While we women were cleaning up the dishes and taking care of the food, the men folk would be putting the yokes on the oxen and then we would be on our way. The Company was united as one large family. If one would start to sing, the whole company would join in, while traveling.
We had one big scare on our journey and it happened one Friday night, September 22. We came to a camp where the brush was all piled upand ready for a fire. On a buffalo skull, we saw some writing which was as follows: Captain Miner G. Atwood's Company had camped here a few nights previous and were preparing camp when two of the women went to the spring for water. One of the women was carried off by Indians, and several of the men were wounded trying to rescue her. They never recovered her, so the company left there and camped on a nearby hill. Our company left the spring also and camped at a dry camp on the hill. We were not molested, but some of the cattle died of thirst. Or trip was enjoyable for the rest of the journey.
We arrived in Salt Lake City November 9, having been 3 months lacking 3 days on this journey. When we realized that we had actually reached our destination, and our journey was over, our hearts went out in gratitude and thanksgiving to our Father in Heaven for his protecting care over us and for our safe delivery.
That night, Brother Alex Piper came to our camp hunting a miller. He wanted a man experienced in making flour, so father hired out to him and we went to live in Sugar House Ward. There my twin babies were born on July 15, 1866. We named them Thomas and Ellen.
Some 3 months before the birth of the twins, I was sitting in the house, not thinking of any Indians being around. I looked up and saw an old indian looking through the window, his nose was fairly flattened out with him pressing it so hard against the pane, and of course, this sight frightened me immensley. I could neither speak or more. When he saw he had frightened me, he left and went to the mill and told father, "You go home quick, me scare your squaw!"
After a while, I thought nothing more of the fright, but when my twins were born, the first one, a girl, had two tiny white hairs sticking up as feathers right in the center of the top of her head. These remained for some time, finally turning black and became more shining black than the rest of her hair, and always wanted to stick straight up until she grew up.
That fall, we moved from Sugar House to the Fifth Ward, where father went to work on a canal of Charles Lambard. In the process of moving, the team became frightened and ran away, strewing and breaking up what furniture we had. Our bedstead was broken, so all we had to sleep on was a straw tick on the floor. Father would gather wood and carry it home on his back at night after work to keep us warm.
After the canal was finished, father went to work in the mountains, west of the valley, peeling bark for a tanery. He was hired by a Mr. Barton, who lived in Salt Lake. He promised father he would see that his family would be cared for while he was absent from us in the timber. Deep snows came and father couldn't get home, and Mr. Barton never once came to see if we needed anything. The snow was two feet deep or more and I was obliged to wade around in the snow, often wet to my waist, gathering willows or anything that would burn.
My little girl, Jane (5 years old then) and I lived on flour cakes made with flour and water and baked on top of the stove. Our drink was wild peppermint tea with no sugar or cream. I nursed my two babies, who were six months old at the time.
Around the first of February, we were without anything to eat, so I carried babies, and Jane walked and I walked to the 7th Ward where Mr. Barton lived. On reaching his place, we found he was not at home. We returned back to the 5th Ward and saw the Bishop, and got some olive oil to give the children, as they all had whooping cough. From there, I went to the 11th Ward to see Brother Marks. He gave us dinner and enough flour to make about 1 loaf of bread. Faint with exhaustion from walking with babies, I was too weak to carry the babies and the flour, so I left the flour and started to go home with the children. After I was out on the road, I met a woman who said to me, "You poor woman, how far have you got to carry those babies?" While we were talking, a man came along with some running gears. The lady knew him so she asked him if he would take me home, as he only lived a block from our home. He took us to his home and we walked the rest of the way home. I managed to get to the house with the children but collapsed when I got in the house, and fell across the bed in a dead faint. I never knew anymore until the morning, when I awoke and found myself fully dressed.
I asked Jane how she managed with the babies, and she said, "I tried to wake you, but I couldn't. The babies cried themselves to sleep. I pulled a quilt over you and crawled into bed myself and went to sleep."
I got up and left the babies sleeping and went back to Brother Marks and got the flour that he gave me. Jane and I had our breakfast of flour and water cakes. With my entire house without food, I was determined that my children would not suffer any longer, but without having any breakfast to strengthen me, and with all 3 babies on my hands, how to get to town, get any food and get it home, was indeed, a problem. There was no means of delivering groceries in those days. I went to the Lord in prayer to solve my problem. I asked that I might be successful in obtaining food for my children and also have the strength to get home. No sooner had I left the house, when and Indian girl came up to me and said, "Me take papoose," and she carried one of the babies all the way to town and back home for me. We went to Mr. Lambard's home first and he gave me an order to Charles Taylor's meat market (which was way up in the 13th Ward) for a piece of meat and flour. After we rested a while, the Indian girl picked up her choice of the twins (the boy) and we started on our way home, after we had walked about 13 blocks, we reached my humble little home which appeared both cold and lonesome. I got rid of my load as soon as possible, the little Indian girl came in and laid the baby on the bed and stepped out the door. I went to thank her for her kindness and ask her to have supper with me, but she had vanished – I never saw her again knowingly.
A few days later, Father came home and found his baby, Tom, nearly dead from whooping cough. He never went back in the mountains any more and was never paid for the work he had done.
We got along fairly well for the balance of the winter because father was there to help out, and lifted a great burden from me.
In the spring of 1867, we moved to Farmington, and father hired out to Samuel Richards, working in his flour mill at Farmington. While here, we fed lots of Indians, and father gave them a lot of flour. One old Indian squaw would ask me for my baby, Tom. Every time she would come to the house, she would see that I had twins and say, "You don't need two babies, me take boy." She was persistent in her pleas for my baby boy, I was afraid she would try to steal him sometime. It was quite a relief to me when winter came and all the Indians returned to their winter home (the reservation).
I'll always remember the spring of 1868. I had not seen any Indians as yet – one day I had just finished spreading bread and butter and gave each child a slice, and went to the spring to get some water, and you can imagine my fright and surprise when I returned to see the house full of papooses fighting over my children's bread and butter. I soon calmed myself enough to spread them all some bread and butter and get them to go outside and eat it.
MARY ANN (my great grandmother - JTW) was born July 26, 1868, and she was always afraid of Indians. Our next move was to Centerville, Utah, where father ran Anson V. Call Mill. Cathryn Elizabeth was born here, July 18, 1870. We made this our home till late fall, the water all froze up diminishing the power so it was difficult to run the mill at all. We moved back to Farmington until the following summer when father worked in Thomas Steed's mill.
We next moved to Kaysville where father went to work at Bishop Layton's mill and on October 3, 1872, our son, Alexander, was born. After the baby was born, I suddenly was taken with hemorrhage. I became very weak from the loss of blood. I put my hands up to my head and my head was cold as ice. I spoke to the midwife who was washing the baby and told her I was dying. At this time we two women were the only ones in the house. She put the baby down and came and prayed for me – she prayed that I might live – and immediately after that I felt my head getting warm, and soon the hemorrhage stopped and I began to feel better, although I had bled severely I never had another bad spell.
We moved to Bountiful from Kaysville and father ran Heber C. Kimball's mill, and as before, we were pestered by Indians begging for flour and bran. In the fall of 1874, we went to Salt Lake City and had our temple endowments, and on March 2, 1875, our son William was born. On April 1, 1877, our son James was born, and on October 25, 1879 our daughter, Hannah Isabella, was born. All three were born in Centerville.
Four or five days after James was born, I was suddenly taken ill with very hard cramps. Father had been working days and nights until he was overcome with exhaustion. He came home about 2 a.m. and laid down on the floor with some of the children and was soon asleep. My pains kept getting worse and I couldn't get any relief, so I called to him several times, but could not awaken him. Suddenly, the door opened and our neighbor (a man with a wooden leg) came in. At first, I was frightened, then I saw the wooden leg push forward and knew who it was. He came to my beside and I told him I was very sick. "Yes," he said, "I know you are, but how did Brother Sim(s) get to sleep so quick?" I told him I had been calling Alex for half an hour, but could not awaken him. He said, "Why Sister Sim(s), Brother Sim(s) just called at my house a few minutes ago and tapped 3 times on the window and spoke to me and told me to come here as soon as I could."
The Brother gave me some medicine he had in a tiny bottle and administered to me. I began to feel better immediately. He sat with me for a half an hour or more until I became stronger, then he left the little bottle of medicine for me to use if needed again, then he went home. When father awoke next morning, he didn't know that I had been sick or that anyone had come to see me.
In the spring of 1879, father & Tom started to Bear Lake. They got a ride to Cache Valley, then walked through the mountain to Paris, Idaho. Night over-took them while in the mountains and they were tried, so they stopped, made a fire, and Tom laid down and went to sleep. Along in the night, while sitting by the fire, Father heard something coming toward him. He could see by firelight it was a big bear.
He didn't wake Tom as he thought he might be frightened; soon the bear gave a snort and ran away. The next morning, they pursued their journey and arrived in Paris the next evening.
Father went right to work for Able Rich putting the machinery in shape and putting the burra in the mill. They stayed in Paris until October, then returned home.
While attending April Conference in Salt Lake City in 18880, we met a Brother Merkley, who owned a flour mill in St. Charles, Idaho. He hired Father to fix his mill up and run it for him. So, in May 1880, Father and Tom started again for Bear Lake. They were successful in securing a ride as far as Logan, but were obliged to walk through the mountains to Bear Lake.
When reaching St. Charles, they went to work getting the mill in shape and was soon turning out flour for the community. In June, he sent Boone Bunderson down to Centerville with team and covered wagon to move the family to St. Charles. We were five days making the trip. James carried his cat in his arms all the way. We moved in the old Charlie French residence.
It didn't take long to get acquainted here. We scarcely got settled when young people began calling us, and before long, our home seemed to be the principle gathering place for the young people of the town. We had formed the habit of having family prayer at morning and night since we were married and started keeping house. Due to so many young people coming and staying late in the evening, this practice was discontinued.
My twins (boys) Alfred George an Alvin John were born at St. Charles on May 31, 1882. In July of this year, the dreaded disease of Diphtheria struck our home and MARY ANN and Isabella were stricken down. It had taken a severe hold on MARY ANN before we knew what the trouble was. We sent to Paris for Dr. Emmaline Rich, who, when she came in, pointing to MARY ANN, said, "That child is beyond recovery, she will die, but we might save the other one." She was so sure MARY ANN would die, that she never seemed to do much for her. After the doctor had left, Father administered to her and we had faith in her recovery. That night, MARY ANN woke up and said, "Father, if you will send for Brother McCann (a Patriarch) to come and administer to me I know I will get well." So, Brother McCann was sent for at once. He lived in Fish Haven, five miles from St. Charles. He came immediately and when he anointed and administered to her, he promised her she would recover from the sickness and that she would live to become a mother in Israel. He turned to me and said, "Sister Sims, you have a large family, but not another one of your children will get this disease. I rebuke it from your house, and your girls who are sick, shall be healed and if any of the rest of your children do get it, it won't hurt them." Two or three of the older children had slight sore throats, but they didn't get anything - so I lived to see Brother McCann's words fulfilled.
In the fall of 1882, we bought and moved into our own home, which was only a short distance from the mill. Here, on October 3, 1884, our son George was born. Father had been watching the boys growing up. Tom was 18 years old, and the oldest son, so he felt like he had better find a tract of land where he could employ these young men. He filed a homestead on a quarter section of land just south of the Utah/Idaho line, on the west shore of Bear Lake. Here, we established a permanent residence.
Father proceeded at once to try to get water out on the homestead. He filed the priority water right on Swan Creek. He and his sons commenced at once to build a dam across the head of Swan Creek and to dig a cut through a hill 30 fee deep, most of this depth was solid rock, and required blasting with powder. With no capital to work with and to support a wife and 12 children, it was an extremely difficult and tedious task; but Father would often paint a picture to the boys of the future, showing them that only a little longer and they the cold begin to reap the benefits of their labor. This would encourage them and spur them on with new energy, and so it was for a period of nine years, which time ti tool to put the water on the farm.
He put up a saw mill and hauled out logs and sawed them for the building of the dam. Some of the boys would catch fish out of Bear Lake and sell to help support the family, most of the fishing would be done at night, so it wouldn't interfere with the work on the ditch. Before the cut was completed we had 7 boys of our own all working with him to bring the water to cultivate the land, and working in every way they could to establish the homestead (a pretty good force for one father to raise).
The cut was now completed and the canal was ready for its stream, so all interested in the labor and building of the dam an canal prepared to celebrate the big event, the celebration was to be held on June 15, 1893, so on the 13th, to be sure the water would run through the cut and reach the farm, some of the stockholders went with Father up the ditch to the head of the dam. Father turned in what water he figured was efficient to reach the farm and do no damage, but Mr. Wilson and Mr. Briton, who's claims lay farther north, were fearful that the stream would not be large enough to reach their land, because the ditch was new and its banks dry in most places, a great part of the water would soak into the ground, so they persuaded Father to turn more water in from the head, which he did. As they followed down the cut he could see he had turned in too much water, and the stream wold probably break through the bank and cause them extra work.
Mr. Wilson and Briton went on around the ditch from the cut, watching the water through the new ditch, and Father went back up to the head to cut down the stream. Father had sent son James to the mill to bring back some tools to the cut, walking down the hill and along the ditch, he stopped and was looking down at James. James look back and saw his father standing there and he seemed to feel that was the last time would ever see him. Jim worried about this, but went to get the tools, when he returned to the cut, he stopped and looked up where he saw his father, and it was as though someone spoke to him telling him he would never see his father again. He went to the cut, left the tools, then returned to the house and went out on the lake fishing. Tom was also at the Lake, the boys were seining suckers.
About 9 p.m., Tom got very uneasy and wanted to go home. He said to his brother-in-law, who was with him, "Come on FRED (WINDLEY), let's go home." When he reached home, he learned Father had not returned fro the dam where he went to turn off part of the water. I was also very uneasy and worried all evening sine Father did not come back to the house. I knew, however, he often stopped at a mine where Sile Wilcox was working and would be late getting home, but we all felt the same uneasiness about him.
Tom and FRED (WINDLEY) went straight up to the dam, not seeing or hearing anything from him, they followed down the Swan creek to Cook's Saw Mill where Edgar Allred was sawing lumber. They asked if he had seen Father, but not learning anything, returned home. They didn't stop at the house; they mounted horses and rode to Mr. Wilson's and told him that Father had not been home since they accompanied him to the dam to turn in the water. Mr. Wilson got his ranch hands out of bed and sent them to Fish Haven to round up a search party to go look for him. Soon after, about 11 p.m., they were a good number of men upon the creek searching every part of it for him. About 12 o'clock midnight, the lifeless body was found in the cold, swift stream. Help was summoned and the body was recovered. Upon Examining the body, it was learned that his head was crushed and some bad bruises on his body, so the supposition is that Father accidently became unbalanced and fell from the head gate on top of the dam into the raging stream below and was killed instantly and did not drown. Mr. Wilson brought the body home in his buckboard, and the group that had been searching for him departed. However, some of the men stopped at the house and assisted in washing, dressing and laying him out.
This was the great trial of my life, the pains, distress, hardships, privations, and sorrows of all my previous life seemed as naught, when I came to realize that fate had come to Father, that he must quit life in such a sad and sudden way, and at the very climax of his life, when the drudgery and toil was now over, and the anticipation of these wearisome years were realized. It had been his whole ambition to get the water to the farm and to see his family become independent farmers.
In the morning, when we heard they had turned the water to reach its destination, our hearts rejoiced. We felt that the great task was over and we could breathe a sigh of relief. The greatest object of Father's life had been reached, but our hearts were heavy that he wasn't there to share the joy and feeling of accomplishment.
This terrible sorrow seemed more than I could bear, sometimes I felt that I would rather die too, then to try and go on, but I was forced to realize I still had my children with me and I should not despair, but carry on and live for them.
At this time I had four daughters in a delicate condition when the sad news of their father's death reached them and I worried what the results may be to them of such a sudden shock. I am sure this helped me to keep up.
I had many staunch friends who came and offered assistance and sympathy. Using all the power I could exhort, and with all my children, kindsman and friends trying to console me, the most awful gloom seemed at times to hover around me that at times I felt that I was smothering, and for many days my mind seemed dazed, and ever since his death, I have experienced spells when it seemed grief would overcome me. Mr. Wilson, one of the principal stockholders in the dam project, bought and paid for the casket and the digging of the grave, and another friend and neighbor, Alonzo Cook, bought the burial clothes. Father was quietly laid to rest in the Fish Haven Cemetery on the 15th day of July 1893.
My four girls who were expecting babies all gave birth to four healthy babies, three of these precious souls lived to maturity and are the happy parents of large families. The fourth babe, Jane's boy, died at the tender age of six months.
At this time of sorrow, a Mrs. Gheen, who was always a very close friend of ours, (her stepson married my daughter, Ellen) came to my home and gave me strength and courage, she was always near whenever I needed her.
I will now mention a few items that I trust will prove of interest to my boys and girls, as well as the multitude of grandchildren and friends who will some day read this biography.
I remained on this homestead to witness its growth and development, which for nine long wearisome years, was the pride and ambition of Father's life. The 160 acres which looked almost barren wilderness when we moved on it that cold November of 1884 – for all those nine years the need of water was the great drawback on the farm. Since water became available we found the soil fertile and productive and in the course of time all the avaliable land in the homestead became under cultivation and once barren ground had become a beautiful land of wheat fields, green meadows, orchards and gardens. We learned that almost and seed when put in the ground and watered and cared for would grow well.
Since the boys were instrumental in the development of this company farm, and as a token and esteem of parental love, and to show them my appreciation of their courage and cooperation in the development of the farm, I divided the homestead into seven distinct farms and deeded his own tract to each son as his heritage, but lured away by the other attractions, mot of the boys sold their tracks and moved away.
Tom sold his land and moved to Garden City, Utah;
Alex sold his land and went to California, but soon returned to Bear Lake;
William moved to Big Horn country in the eastern part of Wyoming, and later to Freeport, Oregon;
James still remained on his little farm as long as he lived;
Alfred made his home in Salt Lake City for several years, but is now residing in Montebello, California. His twin brother Alvin lived in Star Valley, Wyoming for some years, but later moved to New Plymouth, Idaho; and George enlisted in the army and went to Mexico and later Arizona.
In 1912, Isabella lived straight across the lake at South Eden (this was on the east shore of the Lake and our home was on the west side of the lake, perhaps a distance of 15 miles by a straight line). On June 25th, they took me over to their home, which was Hyrum Nebeker's Ranch at South Eden.
On July 2nd, Alfred came across the lake in his gasoline launch, and after having dinner, I got on the launch with Alfred and he took me home. We sailed across the lake and landed safely on the other shore.
ONE LINE OF THE BIOGRAPHY HAS BEEN CUT OFF FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE, I WILL CONTINUE WITH THE REST)
Also several other young people, I remarked to Alex that it sure seemed natural to come home and find the young folks visiting here, as my home for many years had been the gathering place for the young people. This was the last visit I made and of my children, spending the summer on the homestead most of the time, with an occasional trip to Garden City.
Thus ends the words of my mother: ELIZABETH ELDORTHA MCDERMOTT SIMS.
I, Isabella, will now complete her biographical sketch the best I can.
In all the years I knew my mother, she was everything a mother could be; tolerance and understanding were a special quality of hers. She particularly showed much tolerance with her boys, no matter what their course might be, in them her eyes could only see perfection, and many time friends who were closely associated with the family would remark that mother was cruelly kind to her boys.
On October 14, 1912, the dawn of her 71st birthday, Mother was taken ill. Alex was the only one with her. He prepared a foot bath and she stooped to bathe her feet and apoplexy (stroke) seized her. She lapsed into unconsciousness and almost immediately and hemorrhage started and she slowly bled to death. She never fully regained consciousness, but would rally few times and ask to have all the children with her.
A few days before her death, she raised up in her bed, with arms extended and said, in a clear voice, "Wait Pa, wait, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming." Then she sank back on her pillow, and never attempted to speak again.
She passed away peacefully on October 22, 1912 and was laid to rest in the Garden City Cemetery October 24, 1912.
I have been collecting data for this history since my father's death in 1893, expecting to compile it later when my notes were all completed. I have finally completed this task - October 14, 1933 – on my mother's 92nd birthday, and in honor of Mother's birthday, my sister Ellen and her husband, Stephen and I, and my husband, went to the Salt Lake Temple and had mother sealed to her parents and Ellen, Elizabeth, and MARY ANN were all sealed to our mother and father. So ended the worry of the work that mother in all her declining years was always anxious about, but never had the opportunity of doing herself. She had asked that we girls do this work for her, so we thought it fitting to this work this day. We came from the Temple with light and happy hearts, satisfied that our efforts were gladly accepted by her an father and feeling that we could have done her no greater honor on this, her birthday, than to have this work completed, that seemed to be uppermost in her mind.
A while after Mother's death, my husband, Samuel and I bought the homestead and made our home there until his death March 7, 1922. Leaving me with five daughters and two little sons.
It is now the Spring of 1951 and there aren't many of mother's children left. I sincerely hope all of mother's descendants will be able to enjoy and benefit from this biography.
BIOGRAPHY OF ELIZABETH ELDORTHA MCDERMOTT SIMS AS TOLD TO HER DAUGHTER HANNAH ISABELLA SIMS HENDERSON WINN
Elizabeth Eldortha McDermott was born October 14, at Rounda Bush, East Province, South Africa, daughter of James McDermott and Johanna Smyth.
My father was a shoemaker or as it would be today, a shoe manufacturer. He tanned his own leather and I often helped to wash the thread that he used to sew the shoes. It was all done by hand; he had the best materials as well as workmanship. He could guarantee his shoes for at least a year. They didn't size the shoes, but measured and fit each foot. He took great pride in his work, good judgment and skill. Mother was also neat and an expert seamstress and displayed great abilities in fancy needle work. She was also a good housekeeper and a splendid cook.
They belonged to the Church of England and Father's custom was to read a chapter of the Bible every morning, then had family prayer before breakfast. They always taught us children to read from the Bible and that's how I got my early schooling -- reading the bible.
They had six children as follows: 1. Margaret (Married Alfred Walton (English)); 2. Elizabeth Eldortha (Married Alexander Sims (Scottish)); 3. Michael (wife unknown)); 4. Cornelius (wife unknown)); 5. Isabella (Married Alfred Walker (English)); and 6. John (wife unknown)).
We had to walk everywhere we went. I remember one time my sister Margaret and I were going to the next settlement, as we were passing a large mountain, to our astonishment, we saw large rocks rolling down the mountain side towards us. As one came farther down the hill, we could see it was a big dog, and as the top of the mountain was between us and the sun, we could very plainly see that what looked like little heads coming over the mountain were wild men. Magaret took me on her back and ran, this way we escaped the dog, bur on our return trip home we could see the dog tracks, hd had crossed our trail and circling around through the brush and returned up the mountain again. These wild men were known to steal anything they could get hold of (children and goats) so we felt lucky to have gotten away from them.
On an occasion when Mother & I were visiting with my aunt and uncle who owned a flour mill, the boys would set snares in the mill to catch pheasants. One day my cousins and I went to see if anything had been caught in the snare. We were laughing and talking when all at once we heard a rushing noise in the mill, we were all frightened and ran back into the house, and told their father, who took his gun and went with us. When he opened the door we could see there had been wild men in the bin stealing flour and there was a square window about four feet from the floor which they made their escape from the mill. We had frightened them so, that in their haste to get away they had strewn flour across the floor, and must of dove through the window, as they left prints of their bodies in the sand showing that they had landed on their stomachs. We followed them for a mile or more, my uncle shot his gun several times to frighten them. We never saw amy more of the wild men, only a trail of flour as far as we could see. I don't think they ever came back again.
In the fall we children would go out under the trees with sacks to gather nuts from the trees. The trees would always be full of monkeys. We would throw rocks at them and they would throw nuts back at us, then they would get so excited they would start jumping from limb to limg shaking the nuts down and we would pick them up, fill our sacks and go home.
I remember one day Mother & I were walking through a grove of trees. We saw a big group of monkeys crossing the road, when they saw us, they lined up on each side of the road facing us and stool like soldiers in a row. We picked up a stick and pointed it at them and they would jump back. Mother said they thought we had guns. I saw a baby monkey sitting alone on the road. It was tempting to leave alone, and just as I went to take hold of it's tail, Mother jerked me back saying, "if you had made it squeal, the whole group would have been on top of us." There were so many of them, they would have torn us to pieces.
A short time later, my parents consented to let me live with a Mrs. Lovemore and family, who shortly after I came to live with them, moved to Quakers Flat, taking me with them. Mother didn't know that they planned on moving out of town when she gave her consent for me to live with them.
I was only eight years old and thought it would be fun to live on a big estate in the country. Before Mother let me go with them, she made Mrs. Lovemore promise to let me go to school with their children (they had a private teacher) so I bid good-bye to my folks, and never to see my father again.
The Lovemore's hired Kaffir people to do all the heavy work on the farm. They would milk the cows, and strain the milk into forty gallon barrels, which were equipped with a handle on each end of the rod. Two Kaffir women would each take hold of a handle, and a man would start the barrel revolving and the women would keep it in motion, until the butter came. Sometimes it would take half a day or so to churn the butter to a golden yellow and sweet, lovely flavor. I have never tasted butter in America that can in any way compare with it.
The Kaffir girls did all the washing. They would scour the tin and buckets with sand and keep them as bright as a looking glass.
My work, while there, was to care for the babies, and bathe the other children and comb their hair and dress them for school. Although Mrs. Lovemore had promised Mother she would send me to school, she never kept her promise. With the little schooling I had before leaving my father and mother, I went on learning to read by studying the Bible (that is why I say I was educated out of the Bible). It was also my job to see that the other children studed their lessons each evening, and as I was eager to learn, this gave me just the opportunity I wanted. I think I got as much or more out of their studies as they did.
Each day, the children would take their lessons to school and recite to the teacher. She would assign them their next leson to bring home and I would help each one prepare their work for the following day.
The Kaffir women would do the washing and all the heavy work, but after I was ten years old, I had to do all the ironing. There was a large family of girls and they all wore full skirts that came right down to their toes. the dresses were trimmed with yards of ruffles, and they were all starched so stiff that when I got them ironed, they stand up all alone on the floor. One day, I stood them all on their bedroom floor, which had a curtain at the door. Then I raised the curtains so they could just see the bottoms of the dressed and then I called the girls to come and see. After they had all taken a peek, they said, "Elizabeth, who are all those little girls?" Then I pulled back the curtains and showed them all their dresses standing on the floor, close together filling the room. They all had a good laugh at the joke I had played on them, but it only meant the finish of a long, hard day's work for me, until the next week. (The girls had bonnets to match the dresses.) I would stand in the hot kitchen and iron until I was ready to drop while the other children were out playing in the shade.
Sometimes we would go to a large corral full of goats, among them an old billy goat tat would chase us. The corral was a woven brush fence with the posts driven in the ground and the willows around them, as we would weave a basket. It was made oblong and would hold about 500 goats. We would all get at different places on top of the pen and then jump off inside and the old Billy would make for one of us, who would climb over the top, then he would turn and go for another. One morning we had benn playing a long time, when old Billy went after me. I ran farther along the fence, before climbing over and I hit something as I went I looked to see what I had stumbled against and there laid a wild man on his stomach with his hands under his head and his elbows sticking out each side. He was sound asleep and all of our laughing and shouting didn't wake him. We ran to the house and told Mr. Lovemore, who took his gun and shot over the man's head. He jumped up and stretched his arms straight out each side of hm and ran as hard as he could go over the Flats. He looked like a big bird flying. Evidently he had come to steal a goat, but finding the hole in the fence, had laid down to take a nap, but over slept. They had stolen quite a few goats before that, but they never came back again. I guess the shot had given him quite a fright.
We had such an even climate there. The only way we could tell winter was that it rained more then. The cattle and sheep fed in green pastures the year round.
The Kaffirs built their huts in the low-lands. This marshy ground was also the habitation of the boa constrictor. This big snake would swallow a child as quick as ti would a calf or an other food. The Kaffirs were always watching them.
One day a man came to the house quite excited and called us to go and see a snake that had just swallowed a calf. There it lay, sound asleep, and we could see the form of the calf in the snake's stomach. The man shot it.
When I was sixteen years old, the Kaffir was broke out, and all the towns were heavily guarded. No white person was allowed out of their homes after nightfall.
At this time I had formed a habit of walking in my sleep. I was guarded very close at night, as the people know of my practice of walking while asleep. They were afraid I would get outside and be shot as a spy. One night while walking around in my sleep, I fell over a stool and woke myself up and I was never to walk in my sleep again.
Now it will be remembered that nine years have passed since I saw my mother or any of my family. (I am 18 years old now.)
I dreamed I saw my mother and my youngest brother coming in a covered wagon, and on arising the next morning, I said to Mrs. Lovemore, "My Mother is coming today." After watching for them all day, toward evening I saw them coming, and they looked exactly as I had seen them in my dream, so I knew immediately it was them, and ran a half a mile or more to meet them. I climbed into the wagon and kissed them. Only God in Heaven knew the joy in my heart at meeting them. I saw a sad look in my mother's face and knew she was in trouble. She told me my father had passed away and she had come for me.
Then I accompanied my mother to her sister's (Elizabeth Moulder) where we spent three months. While there, I, for the first time in my life, was allowed to go to dances and parties, so needless to say, I greatly enjoyed the visit.
I didn't appreciate going back to the Lovemore's, but not long after my return to the Lovemore home, a Mr. Alexander Sim(s) came to work as an apprentice in the Lovemore flour mill. In all my life, I had met but a few young men, so when this young man cme on the property and took up his vocation sonear me, we soon became very much attached to each other. However, close restrictions were placed upon me because the Lovemores didn't want to loose me, because of the work I would daily accomplish for them. So, on rare occasions, I was permitted to be in Mr Sim(s) company. Eventually he revealed to them that hew as expecting to marry me. Mr. Sim(s) was the son of Thomas Sim(s) and Mary Jane Innes, born November 14, 1835 in Aberdeen, Aberdeenshire, Scotland.
After he had completed his apprenticeship as a mill right and machinist, were were married in Gramestown. At this time I was 20 years old. This was the spring of 1861 and soon after our marriage, my husband bought what was known as "The Winds Flour Mill" at Gramestown, so here we made our home and he continued working at his trade of running the flour mill. He had to depend upon the pond for power to run the mill and so it soon became too tedious and slow for him.
It was here in Gramestown, my first baby was born, April 9, 1862, a little girl named Jane. When Jane was six months old, my husband sold the mill and went to Port Elizabeth to work. He boarded with a family by the mane of Leo and worked with a man by the name of Fred Ardor. These people were all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
One day when Mr. Ardor went to dinner, he left a Book of Mormon laying on the table, and as my husband was always a great reader, he cam upon this book and began reading it. He asked many questions in regards to the new book which interested him from the first time he saw it.
After they had discussed the book and its origin, etc., Mr. Ardor invited him to accompany him to a meeting that night. Upon reaching the meeting house, he met Elders Fotheringham & Dixon, who were conducting the meeting. When he saw these two Elders and was reminded that he had seen these two men, previously, in a dream, and recognized them as being servants of God who had the true gospel. He had always been a great reader of the bible, but contended that the ministers never placed the proper interpretation to the scriptures. As soon as he heard these Elders proclaim the Gospel in its true light and under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, he knew they were telling the truth and wer men sent from God, so almost immediately he became converted and asked to be baptized.
Early in the month of January 1863, he was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, by Brother Henry Dixon, and confirmed a member in the church the same day.
I was visiting the Lovemores at this time and they treated me fine, so I enjoyed my visit very much. I went to my cousin's (James Stirly) and stayed five or six weeks from there and then my husband came for me and took me home with him.
As we were enroute for home, we passed a little church which bore the inscription The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My husband pointed to it and said to me, "That is my church, the one I now belong to." I looked and read the inscription and said, "Surely you have not joined the Mormons?" He answered that he had and I said, "Well, that sound very funny to me as I have heard so many unfavorable reports about them." He didn't invite me to go to his church with him, but he continued meeting with the Elders regularly; attending church whenever they would have a meeting. During this time, I was attending the Church of England and one day the Elders were holding a meeting and I said to him, "I believe I will go with you and visit your church this afternoon." He said, "Very well, I will be glad to have you." So, I accompanied him to church and for the first time in my life listened to the Mormon Doctrine and the testimony of the Mormon Elders.
Father, as I referred to my husband after our baby was born, could see that I was favorably impressed with their sermons, so after the meeting, he introduced me to the Elders and we invited them home with us to dinner. They remained during the evening and needless to say, it was truly an enjoyable evening. Before the Elders left that night they asked me if I would like to be present at a baptism they were holding the following day. I told them I would be there. I was not only there, but I was baptized myself, and my little baby, Jane, was blessed by Elder Dixon. The wonderful testimony I received that night has never left me. After we had joined the Mormon Church, my folks thought I had disgraced them, all except the Stourleys.
Father's people were all living in Scotland, so our only associates were the Mormon Elders and converts to the Church.
The spirit of immigration had taken hold of us, and the Gospel meant more to us than anything, so we began saving and preparing to immigrate with the Saints to Zion.
Elizabeth, our second baby, was born on April 17, 1864, while living at Port Elizabeth, she was blessed by Elder Harry Rempton.
Father was working at his trade in a flour mill and we lived near a family named Leo. They had a large baboon which they were keeping for circus use. He was kept chained at the corner of the house, so he could look in the window. His name was Jocko. I always spoke to Jocko when I would go to the house, so he became quite well acquainted with me. I would say, "Good morning, Jocko," and he would always bow to me. One morning I rushed to the house on an errand and passed Jocko without speaking to him. I went into the house and was sitting in view of the window, talking to Mrs. Leo, when a rock whissed past my head. We went to the door and looked out. There sat the baboon crouched down with a sack over his head, peeking out at me with one eye. He had become enraged because I didn't speak to him before going to the house. There was a Mrs. Wilks visiting with Mrs Leo and we all went outside and tried to make friends with him. Mrs. Wilks put her hand out to shake hands with him. Mrs. Leo told her she had better not, but Jocko grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Mrs. Leo was standing close by and pulled Mrs. Wilks away from Jocko before he could hurt her. Jocko began to squeal and cry, and rant like he was crazy. He grabbed hands full of gravel and threw it ast us. We were all frightened away, and told Mr. Leo of Jocko's frantic actions. Mr. Leo took a whip and gave him a good thrashing.
All of us that were there left, but the baboon still manifested revenge. To show his spite, Jocko took the slop pail and put it in the middle of the floor. Then he took from the cupboard, sugar, rice, beans, spices and everything else he could find, dumped them all in the pail and stirred it with a stick and then pulled the chairs over the top of it, also the table and the bedding, and then he ran away and hid.
They didn't see him for several days, but finally he got hungry and came into the garden, so they caught him and chained him up. A short while later the baboon broke loose again and ran into town and into the grocery store and stole a ham. Then he climbed on the top of the house. The grocer yelled at him and started after him. He jumped from one house to the other until he had covered several houses. Suddenly he looked down and saw a negro sitting there and left the ham and jumped down on the Negro. They caught him and chained him up again.
The Saints from the surrounding country began gathering and were camping on the beach getting ready to emigrate to Zion. We sold what holdings we possessed and joined the company encamped on the beach. It was while we were camping on the beach that my baby, Elizabeth, took sick and died (Jan. 2, 1865). We buried her on the beach. We notified our folks of the baby's death, but none of them came to see us. We continued our residence on the beach while preparing for our voyage. We boarded ship April 10, 1865. My old minister of the Church of England came on board ship to talk to me. He said, "Lizzie, you better reconsider what you are doing an stay here with us." I told him no - I knew what I was right in what I was doing. He said, "Why don't you know that the Government of the United States is sending an army to Utah for the purpose of exterminating all Mormons. They will kill and hang them all." I said, "Alright, I will go and be hanged with the rest of them." He was very disgusted with my independent attitude and left the ship without wishing me good luck, a pleasant voyage, or anything else.
Naturally, I thought of leaving my people and going far away,especially after the hateful attitude they had taken toward us after we joined the church, but I could find consolation in this matter with the fact that I had a soul to save and I was positive that may cause was right. There was a fear more grievious nature that seemed to be uppermost in my mind for I was leaving the precious remains of my baby there on the beach, in the cold soil of a distant ladn for this my heart was extremely sad. After I had been on the ship for 3 days, I lie in my bed and sobbed and prayed earnestly to my God for comfort in this direction. Sometime during the night, I dreamed that I held my baby in my arms and that she wasc oming with me. So real was this dream, that I awoke, and on awaking, I felt the baby so plainly in my arms that I looked to see if it really was there. I felt comforted and from that time on, whenever I thought of my little girl, I felt like she was coming with us.
The Brig Mexicana was the name of the ship we sailed on. We left port Elizabeth, South Africa on Arpil 10, 1865 with 47 saints on board. Minder G. Atwoods, presiding while father as ship steward. Our Captain remarked it was the most pleasant voyage he ahd ever experienced - the water was so smooth and calm and the ship scarcely moved at times.
Enroute to the promised land, we only met one vessel in hailing distance - the usual question was aksed of our Captian, "What are you loaded with?" The reply was sheep skins and Mormons. All the people on that ship cheered and laughed. We saw other saints at a distance.
When we crossed the Equator, the sailors played jokes and had their own fun initiating us to "KIng Neptune" or the "Ancient Order of the Deep". They spent almost the entire night playing ghost tricks on each other. Once, the sailors were all on deck & in great excitement, they yelled, "Man overboard!" After all the passengers got up, dressed and ran up on the deck, they had a dummy prepared, through him overboard and then drew him back. The sailors had fine fun by resorting to all kinds of capers to try to excite us. There was very little seasickness and all enjoyed the trip. Shortly after we crossed the Equator, a very dear friend of ours, a Brother Kershaw, took sick and died. For 4 days before he died, two sharks followed the ship, but they were never seen again and his body was buried at sea.
We landed in New York on June 18, 1865. Making just 69 days on the water. After landing in New York, we went by street car and train to the Mississippi and crossed the river by steamboat, then up the Missouri River to St. Joseph (Missouri). Here we stopped for a while preparing for our tedious journey across the plains. We started our journey with Brother Walker's company known as the The Independent Company, August 12, 1865. Father & I walked for the entire journey. We walked, drove ox teams, and pushed hand carts for the privilege of having our little girl and luggage hauled by wagons. We would start out in the morning singing as we traveled; camp for a couple of hours at noon; then travel on all afternoon, always happy and cheerful-singing and making merry. When the wagon train would camp for the night, the woman folks would put on their big aprons and start in search of fuel with which to cook our meal and keep us warm. It was amusing to see the sisters coming to camp from all directions with aprons loaded with buffalo chips with which to start fires.
All night the wagons were drawn up in a circle and each family would prepare and eat their own meals. During the evening some would rest from their weary journey of the day; others would dance and try to make merry. One of them of the company usually played the violin, and many times I played the harmonica for the people to dance. Before retiring for the night, the whole company would circle around and sing a hymn and then kneel in prayer. In the morning we would also sing a hymn and have a prayer before starting our day, after which, breakfast would be served. While we women were cleaning up the dishes and taking care of the food, the men folk would be putting the yokes on the oxen and then we would be on our way. The Company was united as one large family. If one would start to sing, the whole company would join in, while traveling.
We had one big scare on our journey and it happened one Friday night, September 22. We came to a camp where the brush was all piled upand ready for a fire. On a buffalo skull, we saw some writing which was as follows: Captain Miner G. Atwood's Company had camped here a few nights previous and were preparing camp when two of the women went to the spring for water. One of the women was carried off by Indians, and several of the men were wounded trying to rescue her. They never recovered her, so the company left there and camped on a nearby hill. Our company left the spring also and camped at a dry camp on the hill. We were not molested, but some of the cattle died of thirst. Or trip was enjoyable for the rest of the journey.
We arrived in Salt Lake City November 9, having been 3 months lacking 3 days on this journey. When we realized that we had actually reached our destination, and our journey was over, our hearts went out in gratitude and thanksgiving to our Father in Heaven for his protecting care over us and for our safe delivery.
That night, Brother Alex Piper came to our camp hunting a miller. He wanted a man experienced in making flour, so father hired out to him and we went to live in Sugar House Ward. There my twin babies were born on July 15, 1866. We named them Thomas and Ellen.
Some 3 months before the birth of the twins, I was sitting in the house, not thinking of any Indians being around. I looked up and saw an old indian looking through the window, his nose was fairly flattened out with him pressing it so hard against the pane, and of course, this sight frightened me immensley. I could neither speak or more. When he saw he had frightened me, he left and went to the mill and told father, "You go home quick, me scare your squaw!"
After a while, I thought nothing more of the fright, but when my twins were born, the first one, a girl, had two tiny white hairs sticking up as feathers right in the center of the top of her head. These remained for some time, finally turning black and became more shining black than the rest of her hair, and always wanted to stick straight up until she grew up.
That fall, we moved from Sugar House to the Fifth Ward, where father went to work on a canal of Charles Lambard. In the process of moving, the team became frightened and ran away, strewing and breaking up what furniture we had. Our bedstead was broken, so all we had to sleep on was a straw tick on the floor. Father would gather wood and carry it home on his back at night after work to keep us warm.
After the canal was finished, father went to work in the mountains, west of the valley, peeling bark for a tanery. He was hired by a Mr. Barton, who lived in Salt Lake. He promised father he would see that his family would be cared for while he was absent from us in the timber. Deep snows came and father couldn't get home, and Mr. Barton never once came to see if we needed anything. The snow was two feet deep or more and I was obliged to wade around in the snow, often wet to my waist, gathering willows or anything that would burn.
My little girl, Jane (5 years old then) and I lived on flour cakes made with flour and water and baked on top of the stove. Our drink was wild peppermint tea with no sugar or cream. I nursed my two babies, who were six months old at the time.
Around the first of February, we were without anything to eat, so I carried babies, and Jane walked and I walked to the 7th Ward where Mr. Barton lived. On reaching his place, we found he was not at home. We returned back to the 5th Ward and saw the Bishop, and got some olive oil to give the children, as they all had whooping cough. From there, I went to the 11th Ward to see Brother Marks. He gave us dinner and enough flour to make about 1 loaf of bread. Faint with exhaustion from walking with babies, I was too weak to carry the babies and the flour, so I left the flour and started to go home with the children. After I was out on the road, I met a woman who said to me, "You poor woman, how far have you got to carry those babies?" While we were talking, a man came along with some running gears. The lady knew him so she asked him if he would take me home, as he only lived a block from our home. He took us to his home and we walked the rest of the way home. I managed to get to the house with the children but collapsed when I got in the house, and fell across the bed in a dead faint. I never knew anymore until the morning, when I awoke and found myself fully dressed.
I asked Jane how she managed with the babies, and she said, "I tried to wake you, but I couldn't. The babies cried themselves to sleep. I pulled a quilt over you and crawled into bed myself and went to sleep."
I got up and left the babies sleeping and went back to Brother Marks and got the flour that he gave me. Jane and I had our breakfast of flour and water cakes. With my entire house without food, I was determined that my children would not suffer any longer, but without having any breakfast to strengthen me, and with all 3 babies on my hands, how to get to town, get any food and get it home, was indeed, a problem. There was no means of delivering groceries in those days. I went to the Lord in prayer to solve my problem. I asked that I might be successful in obtaining food for my children and also have the strength to get home. No sooner had I left the house, when and Indian girl came up to me and said, "Me take papoose," and she carried one of the babies all the way to town and back home for me. We went to Mr. Lambard's home first and he gave me an order to Charles Taylor's meat market (which was way up in the 13th Ward) for a piece of meat and flour. After we rested a while, the Indian girl picked up her choice of the twins (the boy) and we started on our way home, after we had walked about 13 blocks, we reached my humble little home which appeared both cold and lonesome. I got rid of my load as soon as possible, the little Indian girl came in and laid the baby on the bed and stepped out the door. I went to thank her for her kindness and ask her to have supper with me, but she had vanished – I never saw her again knowingly.
A few days later, Father came home and found his baby, Tom, nearly dead from whooping cough. He never went back in the mountains any more and was never paid for the work he had done.
We got along fairly well for the balance of the winter because father was there to help out, and lifted a great burden from me.
In the spring of 1867, we moved to Farmington, and father hired out to Samuel Richards, working in his flour mill at Farmington. While here, we fed lots of Indians, and father gave them a lot of flour. One old Indian squaw would ask me for my baby, Tom. Every time she would come to the house, she would see that I had twins and say, "You don't need two babies, me take boy." She was persistent in her pleas for my baby boy, I was afraid she would try to steal him sometime. It was quite a relief to me when winter came and all the Indians returned to their winter home (the reservation).
I'll always remember the spring of 1868. I had not seen any Indians as yet – one day I had just finished spreading bread and butter and gave each child a slice, and went to the spring to get some water, and you can imagine my fright and surprise when I returned to see the house full of papooses fighting over my children's bread and butter. I soon calmed myself enough to spread them all some bread and butter and get them to go outside and eat it.
MARY ANN (my great grandmother - JTW) was born July 26, 1868, and she was always afraid of Indians. Our next move was to Centerville, Utah, where father ran Anson V. Call Mill. Cathryn Elizabeth was born here, July 18, 1870. We made this our home till late fall, the water all froze up diminishing the power so it was difficult to run the mill at all. We moved back to Farmington until the following summer when father worked in Thomas Steed's mill.
We next moved to Kaysville where father went to work at Bishop Layton's mill and on October 3, 1872, our son, Alexander, was born. After the baby was born, I suddenly was taken with hemorrhage. I became very weak from the loss of blood. I put my hands up to my head and my head was cold as ice. I spoke to the midwife who was washing the baby and told her I was dying. At this time we two women were the only ones in the house. She put the baby down and came and prayed for me – she prayed that I might live – and immediately after that I felt my head getting warm, and soon the hemorrhage stopped and I began to feel better, although I had bled severely I never had another bad spell.
We moved to Bountiful from Kaysville and father ran Heber C. Kimball's mill, and as before, we were pestered by Indians begging for flour and bran. In the fall of 1874, we went to Salt Lake City and had our temple endowments, and on March 2, 1875, our son William was born. On April 1, 1877, our son James was born, and on October 25, 1879 our daughter, Hannah Isabella, was born. All three were born in Centerville.
Four or five days after James was born, I was suddenly taken ill with very hard cramps. Father had been working days and nights until he was overcome with exhaustion. He came home about 2 a.m. and laid down on the floor with some of the children and was soon asleep. My pains kept getting worse and I couldn't get any relief, so I called to him several times, but could not awaken him. Suddenly, the door opened and our neighbor (a man with a wooden leg) came in. At first, I was frightened, then I saw the wooden leg push forward and knew who it was. He came to my beside and I told him I was very sick. "Yes," he said, "I know you are, but how did Brother Sim(s) get to sleep so quick?" I told him I had been calling Alex for half an hour, but could not awaken him. He said, "Why Sister Sim(s), Brother Sim(s) just called at my house a few minutes ago and tapped 3 times on the window and spoke to me and told me to come here as soon as I could."
The Brother gave me some medicine he had in a tiny bottle and administered to me. I began to feel better immediately. He sat with me for a half an hour or more until I became stronger, then he left the little bottle of medicine for me to use if needed again, then he went home. When father awoke next morning, he didn't know that I had been sick or that anyone had come to see me.
In the spring of 1879, father & Tom started to Bear Lake. They got a ride to Cache Valley, then walked through the mountain to Paris, Idaho. Night over-took them while in the mountains and they were tried, so they stopped, made a fire, and Tom laid down and went to sleep. Along in the night, while sitting by the fire, Father heard something coming toward him. He could see by firelight it was a big bear.
He didn't wake Tom as he thought he might be frightened; soon the bear gave a snort and ran away. The next morning, they pursued their journey and arrived in Paris the next evening.
Father went right to work for Able Rich putting the machinery in shape and putting the burra in the mill. They stayed in Paris until October, then returned home.
While attending April Conference in Salt Lake City in 18880, we met a Brother Merkley, who owned a flour mill in St. Charles, Idaho. He hired Father to fix his mill up and run it for him. So, in May 1880, Father and Tom started again for Bear Lake. They were successful in securing a ride as far as Logan, but were obliged to walk through the mountains to Bear Lake.
When reaching St. Charles, they went to work getting the mill in shape and was soon turning out flour for the community. In June, he sent Boone Bunderson down to Centerville with team and covered wagon to move the family to St. Charles. We were five days making the trip. James carried his cat in his arms all the way. We moved in the old Charlie French residence.
It didn't take long to get acquainted here. We scarcely got settled when young people began calling us, and before long, our home seemed to be the principle gathering place for the young people of the town. We had formed the habit of having family prayer at morning and night since we were married and started keeping house. Due to so many young people coming and staying late in the evening, this practice was discontinued.
My twins (boys) Alfred George an Alvin John were born at St. Charles on May 31, 1882. In July of this year, the dreaded disease of Diphtheria struck our home and MARY ANN and Isabella were stricken down. It had taken a severe hold on MARY ANN before we knew what the trouble was. We sent to Paris for Dr. Emmaline Rich, who, when she came in, pointing to MARY ANN, said, "That child is beyond recovery, she will die, but we might save the other one." She was so sure MARY ANN would die, that she never seemed to do much for her. After the doctor had left, Father administered to her and we had faith in her recovery. That night, MARY ANN woke up and said, "Father, if you will send for Brother McCann (a Patriarch) to come and administer to me I know I will get well." So, Brother McCann was sent for at once. He lived in Fish Haven, five miles from St. Charles. He came immediately and when he anointed and administered to her, he promised her she would recover from the sickness and that she would live to become a mother in Israel. He turned to me and said, "Sister Sims, you have a large family, but not another one of your children will get this disease. I rebuke it from your house, and your girls who are sick, shall be healed and if any of the rest of your children do get it, it won't hurt them." Two or three of the older children had slight sore throats, but they didn't get anything - so I lived to see Brother McCann's words fulfilled.
In the fall of 1882, we bought and moved into our own home, which was only a short distance from the mill. Here, on October 3, 1884, our son George was born. Father had been watching the boys growing up. Tom was 18 years old, and the oldest son, so he felt like he had better find a tract of land where he could employ these young men. He filed a homestead on a quarter section of land just south of the Utah/Idaho line, on the west shore of Bear Lake. Here, we established a permanent residence.
Father proceeded at once to try to get water out on the homestead. He filed the priority water right on Swan Creek. He and his sons commenced at once to build a dam across the head of Swan Creek and to dig a cut through a hill 30 fee deep, most of this depth was solid rock, and required blasting with powder. With no capital to work with and to support a wife and 12 children, it was an extremely difficult and tedious task; but Father would often paint a picture to the boys of the future, showing them that only a little longer and they the cold begin to reap the benefits of their labor. This would encourage them and spur them on with new energy, and so it was for a period of nine years, which time ti tool to put the water on the farm.
He put up a saw mill and hauled out logs and sawed them for the building of the dam. Some of the boys would catch fish out of Bear Lake and sell to help support the family, most of the fishing would be done at night, so it wouldn't interfere with the work on the ditch. Before the cut was completed we had 7 boys of our own all working with him to bring the water to cultivate the land, and working in every way they could to establish the homestead (a pretty good force for one father to raise).
The cut was now completed and the canal was ready for its stream, so all interested in the labor and building of the dam an canal prepared to celebrate the big event, the celebration was to be held on June 15, 1893, so on the 13th, to be sure the water would run through the cut and reach the farm, some of the stockholders went with Father up the ditch to the head of the dam. Father turned in what water he figured was efficient to reach the farm and do no damage, but Mr. Wilson and Mr. Briton, who's claims lay farther north, were fearful that the stream would not be large enough to reach their land, because the ditch was new and its banks dry in most places, a great part of the water would soak into the ground, so they persuaded Father to turn more water in from the head, which he did. As they followed down the cut he could see he had turned in too much water, and the stream wold probably break through the bank and cause them extra work.
Mr. Wilson and Briton went on around the ditch from the cut, watching the water through the new ditch, and Father went back up to the head to cut down the stream. Father had sent son James to the mill to bring back some tools to the cut, walking down the hill and along the ditch, he stopped and was looking down at James. James look back and saw his father standing there and he seemed to feel that was the last time would ever see him. Jim worried about this, but went to get the tools, when he returned to the cut, he stopped and looked up where he saw his father, and it was as though someone spoke to him telling him he would never see his father again. He went to the cut, left the tools, then returned to the house and went out on the lake fishing. Tom was also at the Lake, the boys were seining suckers.
About 9 p.m., Tom got very uneasy and wanted to go home. He said to his brother-in-law, who was with him, "Come on FRED (WINDLEY), let's go home." When he reached home, he learned Father had not returned fro the dam where he went to turn off part of the water. I was also very uneasy and worried all evening sine Father did not come back to the house. I knew, however, he often stopped at a mine where Sile Wilcox was working and would be late getting home, but we all felt the same uneasiness about him.
Tom and FRED (WINDLEY) went straight up to the dam, not seeing or hearing anything from him, they followed down the Swan creek to Cook's Saw Mill where Edgar Allred was sawing lumber. They asked if he had seen Father, but not learning anything, returned home. They didn't stop at the house; they mounted horses and rode to Mr. Wilson's and told him that Father had not been home since they accompanied him to the dam to turn in the water. Mr. Wilson got his ranch hands out of bed and sent them to Fish Haven to round up a search party to go look for him. Soon after, about 11 p.m., they were a good number of men upon the creek searching every part of it for him. About 12 o'clock midnight, the lifeless body was found in the cold, swift stream. Help was summoned and the body was recovered. Upon Examining the body, it was learned that his head was crushed and some bad bruises on his body, so the supposition is that Father accidently became unbalanced and fell from the head gate on top of the dam into the raging stream below and was killed instantly and did not drown. Mr. Wilson brought the body home in his buckboard, and the group that had been searching for him departed. However, some of the men stopped at the house and assisted in washing, dressing and laying him out.
This was the great trial of my life, the pains, distress, hardships, privations, and sorrows of all my previous life seemed as naught, when I came to realize that fate had come to Father, that he must quit life in such a sad and sudden way, and at the very climax of his life, when the drudgery and toil was now over, and the anticipation of these wearisome years were realized. It had been his whole ambition to get the water to the farm and to see his family become independent farmers.
In the morning, when we heard they had turned the water to reach its destination, our hearts rejoiced. We felt that the great task was over and we could breathe a sigh of relief. The greatest object of Father's life had been reached, but our hearts were heavy that he wasn't there to share the joy and feeling of accomplishment.
This terrible sorrow seemed more than I could bear, sometimes I felt that I would rather die too, then to try and go on, but I was forced to realize I still had my children with me and I should not despair, but carry on and live for them.
At this time I had four daughters in a delicate condition when the sad news of their father's death reached them and I worried what the results may be to them of such a sudden shock. I am sure this helped me to keep up.
I had many staunch friends who came and offered assistance and sympathy. Using all the power I could exhort, and with all my children, kindsman and friends trying to console me, the most awful gloom seemed at times to hover around me that at times I felt that I was smothering, and for many days my mind seemed dazed, and ever since his death, I have experienced spells when it seemed grief would overcome me. Mr. Wilson, one of the principal stockholders in the dam project, bought and paid for the casket and the digging of the grave, and another friend and neighbor, Alonzo Cook, bought the burial clothes. Father was quietly laid to rest in the Fish Haven Cemetery on the 15th day of July 1893.
My four girls who were expecting babies all gave birth to four healthy babies, three of these precious souls lived to maturity and are the happy parents of large families. The fourth babe, Jane's boy, died at the tender age of six months.
At this time of sorrow, a Mrs. Gheen, who was always a very close friend of ours, (her stepson married my daughter, Ellen) came to my home and gave me strength and courage, she was always near whenever I needed her.
I will now mention a few items that I trust will prove of interest to my boys and girls, as well as the multitude of grandchildren and friends who will some day read this biography.
I remained on this homestead to witness its growth and development, which for nine long wearisome years, was the pride and ambition of Father's life. The 160 acres which looked almost barren wilderness when we moved on it that cold November of 1884 – for all those nine years the need of water was the great drawback on the farm. Since water became available we found the soil fertile and productive and in the course of time all the avaliable land in the homestead became under cultivation and once barren ground had become a beautiful land of wheat fields, green meadows, orchards and gardens. We learned that almost and seed when put in the ground and watered and cared for would grow well.
Since the boys were instrumental in the development of this company farm, and as a token and esteem of parental love, and to show them my appreciation of their courage and cooperation in the development of the farm, I divided the homestead into seven distinct farms and deeded his own tract to each son as his heritage, but lured away by the other attractions, mot of the boys sold their tracks and moved away.
Tom sold his land and moved to Garden City, Utah;
Alex sold his land and went to California, but soon returned to Bear Lake;
William moved to Big Horn country in the eastern part of Wyoming, and later to Freeport, Oregon;
James still remained on his little farm as long as he lived;
Alfred made his home in Salt Lake City for several years, but is now residing in Montebello, California. His twin brother Alvin lived in Star Valley, Wyoming for some years, but later moved to New Plymouth, Idaho; and George enlisted in the army and went to Mexico and later Arizona.
In 1912, Isabella lived straight across the lake at South Eden (this was on the east shore of the Lake and our home was on the west side of the lake, perhaps a distance of 15 miles by a straight line). On June 25th, they took me over to their home, which was Hyrum Nebeker's Ranch at South Eden.
On July 2nd, Alfred came across the lake in his gasoline launch, and after having dinner, I got on the launch with Alfred and he took me home. We sailed across the lake and landed safely on the other shore.
ONE LINE OF THE BIOGRAPHY HAS BEEN CUT OFF FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE, I WILL CONTINUE WITH THE REST)
Also several other young people, I remarked to Alex that it sure seemed natural to come home and find the young folks visiting here, as my home for many years had been the gathering place for the young people. This was the last visit I made and of my children, spending the summer on the homestead most of the time, with an occasional trip to Garden City.
Thus ends the words of my mother: ELIZABETH ELDORTHA MCDERMOTT SIMS.
I, Isabella, will now complete her biographical sketch the best I can.
In all the years I knew my mother, she was everything a mother could be; tolerance and understanding were a special quality of hers. She particularly showed much tolerance with her boys, no matter what their course might be, in them her eyes could only see perfection, and many time friends who were closely associated with the family would remark that mother was cruelly kind to her boys.
On October 14, 1912, the dawn of her 71st birthday, Mother was taken ill. Alex was the only one with her. He prepared a foot bath and she stooped to bathe her feet and apoplexy (stroke) seized her. She lapsed into unconsciousness and almost immediately and hemorrhage started and she slowly bled to death. She never fully regained consciousness, but would rally few times and ask to have all the children with her.
A few days before her death, she raised up in her bed, with arms extended and said, in a clear voice, "Wait Pa, wait, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming." Then she sank back on her pillow, and never attempted to speak again.
She passed away peacefully on October 22, 1912 and was laid to rest in the Garden City Cemetery October 24, 1912.
I have been collecting data for this history since my father's death in 1893, expecting to compile it later when my notes were all completed. I have finally completed this task - October 14, 1933 – on my mother's 92nd birthday, and in honor of Mother's birthday, my sister Ellen and her husband, Stephen and I, and my husband, went to the Salt Lake Temple and had mother sealed to her parents and Ellen, Elizabeth, and MARY ANN were all sealed to our mother and father. So ended the worry of the work that mother in all her declining years was always anxious about, but never had the opportunity of doing herself. She had asked that we girls do this work for her, so we thought it fitting to this work this day. We came from the Temple with light and happy hearts, satisfied that our efforts were gladly accepted by her an father and feeling that we could have done her no greater honor on this, her birthday, than to have this work completed, that seemed to be uppermost in her mind.
A while after Mother's death, my husband, Samuel and I bought the homestead and made our home there until his death March 7, 1922. Leaving me with five daughters and two little sons.
It is now the Spring of 1951 and there aren't many of mother's children left. I sincerely hope all of mother's descendants will be able to enjoy and benefit from this biography.
Elizabeth Eldortha McDermott was born October 14, at Rounda Bush, East Province, South Africa, daughter of James McDermott and Johanna Smyth.
My father was a shoemaker or as it would be today, a shoe manufacturer. He tanned his own leather and I often helped to wash the thread that he used to sew the shoes. It was all done by hand; he had the best materials as well as workmanship. He could guarantee his shoes for at least a year. They didn't size the shoes, but measured and fit each foot. He took great pride in his work, good judgment and skill. Mother was also neat and an expert seamstress and displayed great abilities in fancy needle work. She was also a good housekeeper and a splendid cook.
They belonged to the Church of England and Father's custom was to read a chapter of the Bible every morning, then had family prayer before breakfast. They always taught us children to read from the Bible and that's how I got my early schooling -- reading the bible.
They had six children as follows: 1. Margaret (Married Alfred Walton (English)); 2. Elizabeth Eldortha (Married Alexander Sims (Scottish)); 3. Michael (wife unknown)); 4. Cornelius (wife unknown)); 5. Isabella (Married Alfred Walker (English)); and 6. John (wife unknown)).
We had to walk everywhere we went. I remember one time my sister Margaret and I were going to the next settlement, as we were passing a large mountain, to our astonishment, we saw large rocks rolling down the mountain side towards us. As one came farther down the hill, we could see it was a big dog, and as the top of the mountain was between us and the sun, we could very plainly see that what looked like little heads coming over the mountain were wild men. Magaret took me on her back and ran, this way we escaped the dog, bur on our return trip home we could see the dog tracks, hd had crossed our trail and circling around through the brush and returned up the mountain again. These wild men were known to steal anything they could get hold of (children and goats) so we felt lucky to have gotten away from them.
On an occasion when Mother & I were visiting with my aunt and uncle who owned a flour mill, the boys would set snares in the mill to catch pheasants. One day my cousins and I went to see if anything had been caught in the snare. We were laughing and talking when all at once we heard a rushing noise in the mill, we were all frightened and ran back into the house, and told their father, who took his gun and went with us. When he opened the door we could see there had been wild men in the bin stealing flour and there was a square window about four feet from the floor which they made their escape from the mill. We had frightened them so, that in their haste to get away they had strewn flour across the floor, and must of dove through the window, as they left prints of their bodies in the sand showing that they had landed on their stomachs. We followed them for a mile or more, my uncle shot his gun several times to frighten them. We never saw amy more of the wild men, only a trail of flour as far as we could see. I don't think they ever came back again.
In the fall we children would go out under the trees with sacks to gather nuts from the trees. The trees would always be full of monkeys. We would throw rocks at them and they would throw nuts back at us, then they would get so excited they would start jumping from limb to limg shaking the nuts down and we would pick them up, fill our sacks and go home.
I remember one day Mother & I were walking through a grove of trees. We saw a big group of monkeys crossing the road, when they saw us, they lined up on each side of the road facing us and stool like soldiers in a row. We picked up a stick and pointed it at them and they would jump back. Mother said they thought we had guns. I saw a baby monkey sitting alone on the road. It was tempting to leave alone, and just as I went to take hold of it's tail, Mother jerked me back saying, "if you had made it squeal, the whole group would have been on top of us." There were so many of them, they would have torn us to pieces.
A short time later, my parents consented to let me live with a Mrs. Lovemore and family, who shortly after I came to live with them, moved to Quakers Flat, taking me with them. Mother didn't know that they planned on moving out of town when she gave her consent for me to live with them.
I was only eight years old and thought it would be fun to live on a big estate in the country. Before Mother let me go with them, she made Mrs. Lovemore promise to let me go to school with their children (they had a private teacher) so I bid good-bye to my folks, and never to see my father again.
The Lovemore's hired Kaffir people to do all the heavy work on the farm. They would milk the cows, and strain the milk into forty gallon barrels, which were equipped with a handle on each end of the rod. Two Kaffir women would each take hold of a handle, and a man would start the barrel revolving and the women would keep it in motion, until the butter came. Sometimes it would take half a day or so to churn the butter to a golden yellow and sweet, lovely flavor. I have never tasted butter in America that can in any way compare with it.
The Kaffir girls did all the washing. They would scour the tin and buckets with sand and keep them as bright as a looking glass.
My work, while there, was to care for the babies, and bathe the other children and comb their hair and dress them for school. Although Mrs. Lovemore had promised Mother she would send me to school, she never kept her promise. With the little schooling I had before leaving my father and mother, I went on learning to read by studying the Bible (that is why I say I was educated out of the Bible). It was also my job to see that the other children studed their lessons each evening, and as I was eager to learn, this gave me just the opportunity I wanted. I think I got as much or more out of their studies as they did.
Each day, the children would take their lessons to school and recite to the teacher. She would assign them their next leson to bring home and I would help each one prepare their work for the following day.
The Kaffir women would do the washing and all the heavy work, but after I was ten years old, I had to do all the ironing. There was a large family of girls and they all wore full skirts that came right down to their toes. the dresses were trimmed with yards of ruffles, and they were all starched so stiff that when I got them ironed, they stand up all alone on the floor. One day, I stood them all on their bedroom floor, which had a curtain at the door. Then I raised the curtains so they could just see the bottoms of the dressed and then I called the girls to come and see. After they had all taken a peek, they said, "Elizabeth, who are all those little girls?" Then I pulled back the curtains and showed them all their dresses standing on the floor, close together filling the room. They all had a good laugh at the joke I had played on them, but it only meant the finish of a long, hard day's work for me, until the next week. (The girls had bonnets to match the dresses.) I would stand in the hot kitchen and iron until I was ready to drop while the other children were out playing in the shade.
Sometimes we would go to a large corral full of goats, among them an old billy goat tat would chase us. The corral was a woven brush fence with the posts driven in the ground and the willows around them, as we would weave a basket. It was made oblong and would hold about 500 goats. We would all get at different places on top of the pen and then jump off inside and the old Billy would make for one of us, who would climb over the top, then he would turn and go for another. One morning we had benn playing a long time, when old Billy went after me. I ran farther along the fence, before climbing over and I hit something as I went I looked to see what I had stumbled against and there laid a wild man on his stomach with his hands under his head and his elbows sticking out each side. He was sound asleep and all of our laughing and shouting didn't wake him. We ran to the house and told Mr. Lovemore, who took his gun and shot over the man's head. He jumped up and stretched his arms straight out each side of hm and ran as hard as he could go over the Flats. He looked like a big bird flying. Evidently he had come to steal a goat, but finding the hole in the fence, had laid down to take a nap, but over slept. They had stolen quite a few goats before that, but they never came back again. I guess the shot had given him quite a fright.
We had such an even climate there. The only way we could tell winter was that it rained more then. The cattle and sheep fed in green pastures the year round.
The Kaffirs built their huts in the low-lands. This marshy ground was also the habitation of the boa constrictor. This big snake would swallow a child as quick as ti would a calf or an other food. The Kaffirs were always watching them.
One day a man came to the house quite excited and called us to go and see a snake that had just swallowed a calf. There it lay, sound asleep, and we could see the form of the calf in the snake's stomach. The man shot it.
When I was sixteen years old, the Kaffir was broke out, and all the towns were heavily guarded. No white person was allowed out of their homes after nightfall.
At this time I had formed a habit of walking in my sleep. I was guarded very close at night, as the people know of my practice of walking while asleep. They were afraid I would get outside and be shot as a spy. One night while walking around in my sleep, I fell over a stool and woke myself up and I was never to walk in my sleep again.
Now it will be remembered that nine years have passed since I saw my mother or any of my family. (I am 18 years old now.)
I dreamed I saw my mother and my youngest brother coming in a covered wagon, and on arising the next morning, I said to Mrs. Lovemore, "My Mother is coming today." After watching for them all day, toward evening I saw them coming, and they looked exactly as I had seen them in my dream, so I knew immediately it was them, and ran a half a mile or more to meet them. I climbed into the wagon and kissed them. Only God in Heaven knew the joy in my heart at meeting them. I saw a sad look in my mother's face and knew she was in trouble. She told me my father had passed away and she had come for me.
Then I accompanied my mother to her sister's (Elizabeth Moulder) where we spent three months. While there, I, for the first time in my life, was allowed to go to dances and parties, so needless to say, I greatly enjoyed the visit.
I didn't appreciate going back to the Lovemore's, but not long after my return to the Lovemore home, a Mr. Alexander Sim(s) came to work as an apprentice in the Lovemore flour mill. In all my life, I had met but a few young men, so when this young man cme on the property and took up his vocation sonear me, we soon became very much attached to each other. However, close restrictions were placed upon me because the Lovemores didn't want to loose me, because of the work I would daily accomplish for them. So, on rare occasions, I was permitted to be in Mr Sim(s) company. Eventually he revealed to them that hew as expecting to marry me. Mr. Sim(s) was the son of Thomas Sim(s) and Mary Jane Innes, born November 14, 1835 in Aberdeen, Aberdeenshire, Scotland.
After he had completed his apprenticeship as a mill right and machinist, were were married in Gramestown. At this time I was 20 years old. This was the spring of 1861 and soon after our marriage, my husband bought what was known as "The Winds Flour Mill" at Gramestown, so here we made our home and he continued working at his trade of running the flour mill. He had to depend upon the pond for power to run the mill and so it soon became too tedious and slow for him.
It was here in Gramestown, my first baby was born, April 9, 1862, a little girl named Jane. When Jane was six months old, my husband sold the mill and went to Port Elizabeth to work. He boarded with a family by the mane of Leo and worked with a man by the name of Fred Ardor. These people were all members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
One day when Mr. Ardor went to dinner, he left a Book of Mormon laying on the table, and as my husband was always a great reader, he cam upon this book and began reading it. He asked many questions in regards to the new book which interested him from the first time he saw it.
After they had discussed the book and its origin, etc., Mr. Ardor invited him to accompany him to a meeting that night. Upon reaching the meeting house, he met Elders Fotheringham & Dixon, who were conducting the meeting. When he saw these two Elders and was reminded that he had seen these two men, previously, in a dream, and recognized them as being servants of God who had the true gospel. He had always been a great reader of the bible, but contended that the ministers never placed the proper interpretation to the scriptures. As soon as he heard these Elders proclaim the Gospel in its true light and under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, he knew they were telling the truth and wer men sent from God, so almost immediately he became converted and asked to be baptized.
Early in the month of January 1863, he was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, by Brother Henry Dixon, and confirmed a member in the church the same day.
I was visiting the Lovemores at this time and they treated me fine, so I enjoyed my visit very much. I went to my cousin's (James Stirly) and stayed five or six weeks from there and then my husband came for me and took me home with him.
As we were enroute for home, we passed a little church which bore the inscription The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My husband pointed to it and said to me, "That is my church, the one I now belong to." I looked and read the inscription and said, "Surely you have not joined the Mormons?" He answered that he had and I said, "Well, that sound very funny to me as I have heard so many unfavorable reports about them." He didn't invite me to go to his church with him, but he continued meeting with the Elders regularly; attending church whenever they would have a meeting. During this time, I was attending the Church of England and one day the Elders were holding a meeting and I said to him, "I believe I will go with you and visit your church this afternoon." He said, "Very well, I will be glad to have you." So, I accompanied him to church and for the first time in my life listened to the Mormon Doctrine and the testimony of the Mormon Elders.
Father, as I referred to my husband after our baby was born, could see that I was favorably impressed with their sermons, so after the meeting, he introduced me to the Elders and we invited them home with us to dinner. They remained during the evening and needless to say, it was truly an enjoyable evening. Before the Elders left that night they asked me if I would like to be present at a baptism they were holding the following day. I told them I would be there. I was not only there, but I was baptized myself, and my little baby, Jane, was blessed by Elder Dixon. The wonderful testimony I received that night has never left me. After we had joined the Mormon Church, my folks thought I had disgraced them, all except the Stourleys.
Father's people were all living in Scotland, so our only associates were the Mormon Elders and converts to the Church.
The spirit of immigration had taken hold of us, and the Gospel meant more to us than anything, so we began saving and preparing to immigrate with the Saints to Zion.
Elizabeth, our second baby, was born on April 17, 1864, while living at Port Elizabeth, she was blessed by Elder Harry Rempton.
Father was working at his trade in a flour mill and we lived near a family named Leo. They had a large baboon which they were keeping for circus use. He was kept chained at the corner of the house, so he could look in the window. His name was Jocko. I always spoke to Jocko when I would go to the house, so he became quite well acquainted with me. I would say, "Good morning, Jocko," and he would always bow to me. One morning I rushed to the house on an errand and passed Jocko without speaking to him. I went into the house and was sitting in view of the window, talking to Mrs. Leo, when a rock whissed past my head. We went to the door and looked out. There sat the baboon crouched down with a sack over his head, peeking out at me with one eye. He had become enraged because I didn't speak to him before going to the house. There was a Mrs. Wilks visiting with Mrs Leo and we all went outside and tried to make friends with him. Mrs. Wilks put her hand out to shake hands with him. Mrs. Leo told her she had better not, but Jocko grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Mrs. Leo was standing close by and pulled Mrs. Wilks away from Jocko before he could hurt her. Jocko began to squeal and cry, and rant like he was crazy. He grabbed hands full of gravel and threw it ast us. We were all frightened away, and told Mr. Leo of Jocko's frantic actions. Mr. Leo took a whip and gave him a good thrashing.
All of us that were there left, but the baboon still manifested revenge. To show his spite, Jocko took the slop pail and put it in the middle of the floor. Then he took from the cupboard, sugar, rice, beans, spices and everything else he could find, dumped them all in the pail and stirred it with a stick and then pulled the chairs over the top of it, also the table and the bedding, and then he ran away and hid.
They didn't see him for several days, but finally he got hungry and came into the garden, so they caught him and chained him up. A short while later the baboon broke loose again and ran into town and into the grocery store and stole a ham. Then he climbed on the top of the house. The grocer yelled at him and started after him. He jumped from one house to the other until he had covered several houses. Suddenly he looked down and saw a negro sitting there and left the ham and jumped down on the Negro. They caught him and chained him up again.
The Saints from the surrounding country began gathering and were camping on the beach getting ready to emigrate to Zion. We sold what holdings we possessed and joined the company encamped on the beach. It was while we were camping on the beach that my baby, Elizabeth, took sick and died (Jan. 2, 1865). We buried her on the beach. We notified our folks of the baby's death, but none of them came to see us. We continued our residence on the beach while preparing for our voyage. We boarded ship April 10, 1865. My old minister of the Church of England came on board ship to talk to me. He said, "Lizzie, you better reconsider what you are doing an stay here with us." I told him no - I knew what I was right in what I was doing. He said, "Why don't you know that the Government of the United States is sending an army to Utah for the purpose of exterminating all Mormons. They will kill and hang them all." I said, "Alright, I will go and be hanged with the rest of them." He was very disgusted with my independent attitude and left the ship without wishing me good luck, a pleasant voyage, or anything else.
Naturally, I thought of leaving my people and going far away,especially after the hateful attitude they had taken toward us after we joined the church, but I could find consolation in this matter with the fact that I had a soul to save and I was positive that may cause was right. There was a fear more grievious nature that seemed to be uppermost in my mind for I was leaving the precious remains of my baby there on the beach, in the cold soil of a distant ladn for this my heart was extremely sad. After I had been on the ship for 3 days, I lie in my bed and sobbed and prayed earnestly to my God for comfort in this direction. Sometime during the night, I dreamed that I held my baby in my arms and that she wasc oming with me. So real was this dream, that I awoke, and on awaking, I felt the baby so plainly in my arms that I looked to see if it really was there. I felt comforted and from that time on, whenever I thought of my little girl, I felt like she was coming with us.
The Brig Mexicana was the name of the ship we sailed on. We left port Elizabeth, South Africa on Arpil 10, 1865 with 47 saints on board. Minder G. Atwoods, presiding while father as ship steward. Our Captain remarked it was the most pleasant voyage he ahd ever experienced - the water was so smooth and calm and the ship scarcely moved at times.
Enroute to the promised land, we only met one vessel in hailing distance - the usual question was aksed of our Captian, "What are you loaded with?" The reply was sheep skins and Mormons. All the people on that ship cheered and laughed. We saw other saints at a distance.
When we crossed the Equator, the sailors played jokes and had their own fun initiating us to "KIng Neptune" or the "Ancient Order of the Deep". They spent almost the entire night playing ghost tricks on each other. Once, the sailors were all on deck & in great excitement, they yelled, "Man overboard!" After all the passengers got up, dressed and ran up on the deck, they had a dummy prepared, through him overboard and then drew him back. The sailors had fine fun by resorting to all kinds of capers to try to excite us. There was very little seasickness and all enjoyed the trip. Shortly after we crossed the Equator, a very dear friend of ours, a Brother Kershaw, took sick and died. For 4 days before he died, two sharks followed the ship, but they were never seen again and his body was buried at sea.
We landed in New York on June 18, 1865. Making just 69 days on the water. After landing in New York, we went by street car and train to the Mississippi and crossed the river by steamboat, then up the Missouri River to St. Joseph (Missouri). Here we stopped for a while preparing for our tedious journey across the plains. We started our journey with Brother Walker's company known as the The Independent Company, August 12, 1865. Father & I walked for the entire journey. We walked, drove ox teams, and pushed hand carts for the privilege of having our little girl and luggage hauled by wagons. We would start out in the morning singing as we traveled; camp for a couple of hours at noon; then travel on all afternoon, always happy and cheerful-singing and making merry. When the wagon train would camp for the night, the woman folks would put on their big aprons and start in search of fuel with which to cook our meal and keep us warm. It was amusing to see the sisters coming to camp from all directions with aprons loaded with buffalo chips with which to start fires.
All night the wagons were drawn up in a circle and each family would prepare and eat their own meals. During the evening some would rest from their weary journey of the day; others would dance and try to make merry. One of them of the company usually played the violin, and many times I played the harmonica for the people to dance. Before retiring for the night, the whole company would circle around and sing a hymn and then kneel in prayer. In the morning we would also sing a hymn and have a prayer before starting our day, after which, breakfast would be served. While we women were cleaning up the dishes and taking care of the food, the men folk would be putting the yokes on the oxen and then we would be on our way. The Company was united as one large family. If one would start to sing, the whole company would join in, while traveling.
We had one big scare on our journey and it happened one Friday night, September 22. We came to a camp where the brush was all piled upand ready for a fire. On a buffalo skull, we saw some writing which was as follows: Captain Miner G. Atwood's Company had camped here a few nights previous and were preparing camp when two of the women went to the spring for water. One of the women was carried off by Indians, and several of the men were wounded trying to rescue her. They never recovered her, so the company left there and camped on a nearby hill. Our company left the spring also and camped at a dry camp on the hill. We were not molested, but some of the cattle died of thirst. Or trip was enjoyable for the rest of the journey.
We arrived in Salt Lake City November 9, having been 3 months lacking 3 days on this journey. When we realized that we had actually reached our destination, and our journey was over, our hearts went out in gratitude and thanksgiving to our Father in Heaven for his protecting care over us and for our safe delivery.
That night, Brother Alex Piper came to our camp hunting a miller. He wanted a man experienced in making flour, so father hired out to him and we went to live in Sugar House Ward. There my twin babies were born on July 15, 1866. We named them Thomas and Ellen.
Some 3 months before the birth of the twins, I was sitting in the house, not thinking of any Indians being around. I looked up and saw an old indian looking through the window, his nose was fairly flattened out with him pressing it so hard against the pane, and of course, this sight frightened me immensley. I could neither speak or more. When he saw he had frightened me, he left and went to the mill and told father, "You go home quick, me scare your squaw!"
After a while, I thought nothing more of the fright, but when my twins were born, the first one, a girl, had two tiny white hairs sticking up as feathers right in the center of the top of her head. These remained for some time, finally turning black and became more shining black than the rest of her hair, and always wanted to stick straight up until she grew up.
That fall, we moved from Sugar House to the Fifth Ward, where father went to work on a canal of Charles Lambard. In the process of moving, the team became frightened and ran away, strewing and breaking up what furniture we had. Our bedstead was broken, so all we had to sleep on was a straw tick on the floor. Father would gather wood and carry it home on his back at night after work to keep us warm.
After the canal was finished, father went to work in the mountains, west of the valley, peeling bark for a tanery. He was hired by a Mr. Barton, who lived in Salt Lake. He promised father he would see that his family would be cared for while he was absent from us in the timber. Deep snows came and father couldn't get home, and Mr. Barton never once came to see if we needed anything. The snow was two feet deep or more and I was obliged to wade around in the snow, often wet to my waist, gathering willows or anything that would burn.
My little girl, Jane (5 years old then) and I lived on flour cakes made with flour and water and baked on top of the stove. Our drink was wild peppermint tea with no sugar or cream. I nursed my two babies, who were six months old at the time.
Around the first of February, we were without anything to eat, so I carried babies, and Jane walked and I walked to the 7th Ward where Mr. Barton lived. On reaching his place, we found he was not at home. We returned back to the 5th Ward and saw the Bishop, and got some olive oil to give the children, as they all had whooping cough. From there, I went to the 11th Ward to see Brother Marks. He gave us dinner and enough flour to make about 1 loaf of bread. Faint with exhaustion from walking with babies, I was too weak to carry the babies and the flour, so I left the flour and started to go home with the children. After I was out on the road, I met a woman who said to me, "You poor woman, how far have you got to carry those babies?" While we were talking, a man came along with some running gears. The lady knew him so she asked him if he would take me home, as he only lived a block from our home. He took us to his home and we walked the rest of the way home. I managed to get to the house with the children but collapsed when I got in the house, and fell across the bed in a dead faint. I never knew anymore until the morning, when I awoke and found myself fully dressed.
I asked Jane how she managed with the babies, and she said, "I tried to wake you, but I couldn't. The babies cried themselves to sleep. I pulled a quilt over you and crawled into bed myself and went to sleep."
I got up and left the babies sleeping and went back to Brother Marks and got the flour that he gave me. Jane and I had our breakfast of flour and water cakes. With my entire house without food, I was determined that my children would not suffer any longer, but without having any breakfast to strengthen me, and with all 3 babies on my hands, how to get to town, get any food and get it home, was indeed, a problem. There was no means of delivering groceries in those days. I went to the Lord in prayer to solve my problem. I asked that I might be successful in obtaining food for my children and also have the strength to get home. No sooner had I left the house, when and Indian girl came up to me and said, "Me take papoose," and she carried one of the babies all the way to town and back home for me. We went to Mr. Lambard's home first and he gave me an order to Charles Taylor's meat market (which was way up in the 13th Ward) for a piece of meat and flour. After we rested a while, the Indian girl picked up her choice of the twins (the boy) and we started on our way home, after we had walked about 13 blocks, we reached my humble little home which appeared both cold and lonesome. I got rid of my load as soon as possible, the little Indian girl came in and laid the baby on the bed and stepped out the door. I went to thank her for her kindness and ask her to have supper with me, but she had vanished – I never saw her again knowingly.
A few days later, Father came home and found his baby, Tom, nearly dead from whooping cough. He never went back in the mountains any more and was never paid for the work he had done.
We got along fairly well for the balance of the winter because father was there to help out, and lifted a great burden from me.
In the spring of 1867, we moved to Farmington, and father hired out to Samuel Richards, working in his flour mill at Farmington. While here, we fed lots of Indians, and father gave them a lot of flour. One old Indian squaw would ask me for my baby, Tom. Every time she would come to the house, she would see that I had twins and say, "You don't need two babies, me take boy." She was persistent in her pleas for my baby boy, I was afraid she would try to steal him sometime. It was quite a relief to me when winter came and all the Indians returned to their winter home (the reservation).
I'll always remember the spring of 1868. I had not seen any Indians as yet – one day I had just finished spreading bread and butter and gave each child a slice, and went to the spring to get some water, and you can imagine my fright and surprise when I returned to see the house full of papooses fighting over my children's bread and butter. I soon calmed myself enough to spread them all some bread and butter and get them to go outside and eat it.
MARY ANN (my great grandmother - JTW) was born July 26, 1868, and she was always afraid of Indians. Our next move was to Centerville, Utah, where father ran Anson V. Call Mill. Cathryn Elizabeth was born here, July 18, 1870. We made this our home till late fall, the water all froze up diminishing the power so it was difficult to run the mill at all. We moved back to Farmington until the following summer when father worked in Thomas Steed's mill.
We next moved to Kaysville where father went to work at Bishop Layton's mill and on October 3, 1872, our son, Alexander, was born. After the baby was born, I suddenly was taken with hemorrhage. I became very weak from the loss of blood. I put my hands up to my head and my head was cold as ice. I spoke to the midwife who was washing the baby and told her I was dying. At this time we two women were the only ones in the house. She put the baby down and came and prayed for me – she prayed that I might live – and immediately after that I felt my head getting warm, and soon the hemorrhage stopped and I began to feel better, although I had bled severely I never had another bad spell.
We moved to Bountiful from Kaysville and father ran Heber C. Kimball's mill, and as before, we were pestered by Indians begging for flour and bran. In the fall of 1874, we went to Salt Lake City and had our temple endowments, and on March 2, 1875, our son William was born. On April 1, 1877, our son James was born, and on October 25, 1879 our daughter, Hannah Isabella, was born. All three were born in Centerville.
Four or five days after James was born, I was suddenly taken ill with very hard cramps. Father had been working days and nights until he was overcome with exhaustion. He came home about 2 a.m. and laid down on the floor with some of the children and was soon asleep. My pains kept getting worse and I couldn't get any relief, so I called to him several times, but could not awaken him. Suddenly, the door opened and our neighbor (a man with a wooden leg) came in. At first, I was frightened, then I saw the wooden leg push forward and knew who it was. He came to my beside and I told him I was very sick. "Yes," he said, "I know you are, but how did Brother Sim(s) get to sleep so quick?" I told him I had been calling Alex for half an hour, but could not awaken him. He said, "Why Sister Sim(s), Brother Sim(s) just called at my house a few minutes ago and tapped 3 times on the window and spoke to me and told me to come here as soon as I could."
The Brother gave me some medicine he had in a tiny bottle and administered to me. I began to feel better immediately. He sat with me for a half an hour or more until I became stronger, then he left the little bottle of medicine for me to use if needed again, then he went home. When father awoke next morning, he didn't know that I had been sick or that anyone had come to see me.
In the spring of 1879, father & Tom started to Bear Lake. They got a ride to Cache Valley, then walked through the mountain to Paris, Idaho. Night over-took them while in the mountains and they were tried, so they stopped, made a fire, and Tom laid down and went to sleep. Along in the night, while sitting by the fire, Father heard something coming toward him. He could see by firelight it was a big bear.
He didn't wake Tom as he thought he might be frightened; soon the bear gave a snort and ran away. The next morning, they pursued their journey and arrived in Paris the next evening.
Father went right to work for Able Rich putting the machinery in shape and putting the burra in the mill. They stayed in Paris until October, then returned home.
While attending April Conference in Salt Lake City in 18880, we met a Brother Merkley, who owned a flour mill in St. Charles, Idaho. He hired Father to fix his mill up and run it for him. So, in May 1880, Father and Tom started again for Bear Lake. They were successful in securing a ride as far as Logan, but were obliged to walk through the mountains to Bear Lake.
When reaching St. Charles, they went to work getting the mill in shape and was soon turning out flour for the community. In June, he sent Boone Bunderson down to Centerville with team and covered wagon to move the family to St. Charles. We were five days making the trip. James carried his cat in his arms all the way. We moved in the old Charlie French residence.
It didn't take long to get acquainted here. We scarcely got settled when young people began calling us, and before long, our home seemed to be the principle gathering place for the young people of the town. We had formed the habit of having family prayer at morning and night since we were married and started keeping house. Due to so many young people coming and staying late in the evening, this practice was discontinued.
My twins (boys) Alfred George an Alvin John were born at St. Charles on May 31, 1882. In July of this year, the dreaded disease of Diphtheria struck our home and MARY ANN and Isabella were stricken down. It had taken a severe hold on MARY ANN before we knew what the trouble was. We sent to Paris for Dr. Emmaline Rich, who, when she came in, pointing to MARY ANN, said, "That child is beyond recovery, she will die, but we might save the other one." She was so sure MARY ANN would die, that she never seemed to do much for her. After the doctor had left, Father administered to her and we had faith in her recovery. That night, MARY ANN woke up and said, "Father, if you will send for Brother McCann (a Patriarch) to come and administer to me I know I will get well." So, Brother McCann was sent for at once. He lived in Fish Haven, five miles from St. Charles. He came immediately and when he anointed and administered to her, he promised her she would recover from the sickness and that she would live to become a mother in Israel. He turned to me and said, "Sister Sims, you have a large family, but not another one of your children will get this disease. I rebuke it from your house, and your girls who are sick, shall be healed and if any of the rest of your children do get it, it won't hurt them." Two or three of the older children had slight sore throats, but they didn't get anything - so I lived to see Brother McCann's words fulfilled.
In the fall of 1882, we bought and moved into our own home, which was only a short distance from the mill. Here, on October 3, 1884, our son George was born. Father had been watching the boys growing up. Tom was 18 years old, and the oldest son, so he felt like he had better find a tract of land where he could employ these young men. He filed a homestead on a quarter section of land just south of the Utah/Idaho line, on the west shore of Bear Lake. Here, we established a permanent residence.
Father proceeded at once to try to get water out on the homestead. He filed the priority water right on Swan Creek. He and his sons commenced at once to build a dam across the head of Swan Creek and to dig a cut through a hill 30 fee deep, most of this depth was solid rock, and required blasting with powder. With no capital to work with and to support a wife and 12 children, it was an extremely difficult and tedious task; but Father would often paint a picture to the boys of the future, showing them that only a little longer and they the cold begin to reap the benefits of their labor. This would encourage them and spur them on with new energy, and so it was for a period of nine years, which time ti tool to put the water on the farm.
He put up a saw mill and hauled out logs and sawed them for the building of the dam. Some of the boys would catch fish out of Bear Lake and sell to help support the family, most of the fishing would be done at night, so it wouldn't interfere with the work on the ditch. Before the cut was completed we had 7 boys of our own all working with him to bring the water to cultivate the land, and working in every way they could to establish the homestead (a pretty good force for one father to raise).
The cut was now completed and the canal was ready for its stream, so all interested in the labor and building of the dam an canal prepared to celebrate the big event, the celebration was to be held on June 15, 1893, so on the 13th, to be sure the water would run through the cut and reach the farm, some of the stockholders went with Father up the ditch to the head of the dam. Father turned in what water he figured was efficient to reach the farm and do no damage, but Mr. Wilson and Mr. Briton, who's claims lay farther north, were fearful that the stream would not be large enough to reach their land, because the ditch was new and its banks dry in most places, a great part of the water would soak into the ground, so they persuaded Father to turn more water in from the head, which he did. As they followed down the cut he could see he had turned in too much water, and the stream wold probably break through the bank and cause them extra work.
Mr. Wilson and Briton went on around the ditch from the cut, watching the water through the new ditch, and Father went back up to the head to cut down the stream. Father had sent son James to the mill to bring back some tools to the cut, walking down the hill and along the ditch, he stopped and was looking down at James. James look back and saw his father standing there and he seemed to feel that was the last time would ever see him. Jim worried about this, but went to get the tools, when he returned to the cut, he stopped and looked up where he saw his father, and it was as though someone spoke to him telling him he would never see his father again. He went to the cut, left the tools, then returned to the house and went out on the lake fishing. Tom was also at the Lake, the boys were seining suckers.
About 9 p.m., Tom got very uneasy and wanted to go home. He said to his brother-in-law, who was with him, "Come on FRED (WINDLEY), let's go home." When he reached home, he learned Father had not returned fro the dam where he went to turn off part of the water. I was also very uneasy and worried all evening sine Father did not come back to the house. I knew, however, he often stopped at a mine where Sile Wilcox was working and would be late getting home, but we all felt the same uneasiness about him.
Tom and FRED (WINDLEY) went straight up to the dam, not seeing or hearing anything from him, they followed down the Swan creek to Cook's Saw Mill where Edgar Allred was sawing lumber. They asked if he had seen Father, but not learning anything, returned home. They didn't stop at the house; they mounted horses and rode to Mr. Wilson's and told him that Father had not been home since they accompanied him to the dam to turn in the water. Mr. Wilson got his ranch hands out of bed and sent them to Fish Haven to round up a search party to go look for him. Soon after, about 11 p.m., they were a good number of men upon the creek searching every part of it for him. About 12 o'clock midnight, the lifeless body was found in the cold, swift stream. Help was summoned and the body was recovered. Upon Examining the body, it was learned that his head was crushed and some bad bruises on his body, so the supposition is that Father accidently became unbalanced and fell from the head gate on top of the dam into the raging stream below and was killed instantly and did not drown. Mr. Wilson brought the body home in his buckboard, and the group that had been searching for him departed. However, some of the men stopped at the house and assisted in washing, dressing and laying him out.
This was the great trial of my life, the pains, distress, hardships, privations, and sorrows of all my previous life seemed as naught, when I came to realize that fate had come to Father, that he must quit life in such a sad and sudden way, and at the very climax of his life, when the drudgery and toil was now over, and the anticipation of these wearisome years were realized. It had been his whole ambition to get the water to the farm and to see his family become independent farmers.
In the morning, when we heard they had turned the water to reach its destination, our hearts rejoiced. We felt that the great task was over and we could breathe a sigh of relief. The greatest object of Father's life had been reached, but our hearts were heavy that he wasn't there to share the joy and feeling of accomplishment.
This terrible sorrow seemed more than I could bear, sometimes I felt that I would rather die too, then to try and go on, but I was forced to realize I still had my children with me and I should not despair, but carry on and live for them.
At this time I had four daughters in a delicate condition when the sad news of their father's death reached them and I worried what the results may be to them of such a sudden shock. I am sure this helped me to keep up.
I had many staunch friends who came and offered assistance and sympathy. Using all the power I could exhort, and with all my children, kindsman and friends trying to console me, the most awful gloom seemed at times to hover around me that at times I felt that I was smothering, and for many days my mind seemed dazed, and ever since his death, I have experienced spells when it seemed grief would overcome me. Mr. Wilson, one of the principal stockholders in the dam project, bought and paid for the casket and the digging of the grave, and another friend and neighbor, Alonzo Cook, bought the burial clothes. Father was quietly laid to rest in the Fish Haven Cemetery on the 15th day of July 1893.
My four girls who were expecting babies all gave birth to four healthy babies, three of these precious souls lived to maturity and are the happy parents of large families. The fourth babe, Jane's boy, died at the tender age of six months.
At this time of sorrow, a Mrs. Gheen, who was always a very close friend of ours, (her stepson married my daughter, Ellen) came to my home and gave me strength and courage, she was always near whenever I needed her.
I will now mention a few items that I trust will prove of interest to my boys and girls, as well as the multitude of grandchildren and friends who will some day read this biography.
I remained on this homestead to witness its growth and development, which for nine long wearisome years, was the pride and ambition of Father's life. The 160 acres which looked almost barren wilderness when we moved on it that cold November of 1884 – for all those nine years the need of water was the great drawback on the farm. Since water became available we found the soil fertile and productive and in the course of time all the avaliable land in the homestead became under cultivation and once barren ground had become a beautiful land of wheat fields, green meadows, orchards and gardens. We learned that almost and seed when put in the ground and watered and cared for would grow well.
Since the boys were instrumental in the development of this company farm, and as a token and esteem of parental love, and to show them my appreciation of their courage and cooperation in the development of the farm, I divided the homestead into seven distinct farms and deeded his own tract to each son as his heritage, but lured away by the other attractions, mot of the boys sold their tracks and moved away.
Tom sold his land and moved to Garden City, Utah;
Alex sold his land and went to California, but soon returned to Bear Lake;
William moved to Big Horn country in the eastern part of Wyoming, and later to Freeport, Oregon;
James still remained on his little farm as long as he lived;
Alfred made his home in Salt Lake City for several years, but is now residing in Montebello, California. His twin brother Alvin lived in Star Valley, Wyoming for some years, but later moved to New Plymouth, Idaho; and George enlisted in the army and went to Mexico and later Arizona.
In 1912, Isabella lived straight across the lake at South Eden (this was on the east shore of the Lake and our home was on the west side of the lake, perhaps a distance of 15 miles by a straight line). On June 25th, they took me over to their home, which was Hyrum Nebeker's Ranch at South Eden.
On July 2nd, Alfred came across the lake in his gasoline launch, and after having dinner, I got on the launch with Alfred and he took me home. We sailed across the lake and landed safely on the other shore.
ONE LINE OF THE BIOGRAPHY HAS BEEN CUT OFF FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE, I WILL CONTINUE WITH THE REST)
Also several other young people, I remarked to Alex that it sure seemed natural to come home and find the young folks visiting here, as my home for many years had been the gathering place for the young people. This was the last visit I made and of my children, spending the summer on the homestead most of the time, with an occasional trip to Garden City.
Thus ends the words of my mother: ELIZABETH ELDORTHA MCDERMOTT SIMS.
I, Isabella, will now complete her biographical sketch the best I can.
In all the years I knew my mother, she was everything a mother could be; tolerance and understanding were a special quality of hers. She particularly showed much tolerance with her boys, no matter what their course might be, in them her eyes could only see perfection, and many time friends who were closely associated with the family would remark that mother was cruelly kind to her boys.
On October 14, 1912, the dawn of her 71st birthday, Mother was taken ill. Alex was the only one with her. He prepared a foot bath and she stooped to bathe her feet and apoplexy (stroke) seized her. She lapsed into unconsciousness and almost immediately and hemorrhage started and she slowly bled to death. She never fully regained consciousness, but would rally few times and ask to have all the children with her.
A few days before her death, she raised up in her bed, with arms extended and said, in a clear voice, "Wait Pa, wait, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming." Then she sank back on her pillow, and never attempted to speak again.
She passed away peacefully on October 22, 1912 and was laid to rest in the Garden City Cemetery October 24, 1912.
I have been collecting data for this history since my father's death in 1893, expecting to compile it later when my notes were all completed. I have finally completed this task - October 14, 1933 – on my mother's 92nd birthday, and in honor of Mother's birthday, my sister Ellen and her husband, Stephen and I, and my husband, went to the Salt Lake Temple and had mother sealed to her parents and Ellen, Elizabeth, and MARY ANN were all sealed to our mother and father. So ended the worry of the work that mother in all her declining years was always anxious about, but never had the opportunity of doing herself. She had asked that we girls do this work for her, so we thought it fitting to this work this day. We came from the Temple with light and happy hearts, satisfied that our efforts were gladly accepted by her an father and feeling that we could have done her no greater honor on this, her birthday, than to have this work completed, that seemed to be uppermost in her mind.
A while after Mother's death, my husband, Samuel and I bought the homestead and made our home there until his death March 7, 1922. Leaving me with five daughters and two little sons.
It is now the Spring of 1951 and there aren't many of mother's children left. I sincerely hope all of mother's descendants will be able to enjoy and benefit from this biography.
Family Members
Children
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Jane Elizabeth Sims Dustin
1862–1905
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Elizabeth Sims
1864–1864
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Ellen Sims Gheen
1866–1944
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Thomas Sims
1866–1952
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Mary Ann Ann Sims Windley
1868–1901
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Catherine Elizabeth Sims Collette
1870–1959
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Alexander Sims Jr
1872–1944
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William Dee Sims
1875–1960
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James Sims
1877–1934
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Hannah Isabella Sims Henderson
1879–1956
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Alvin John Sims
1882–1951
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Alfred George Sims
1882–1963
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George Henry Sims
1884–1919
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