Our heritage, like life itself,
We Keep and yet pass on
In doing so, we pay the debt
We owe to those now gone.
What came from them, we hold in trust
Stored treasure that will last
Like Groombridge place,
Our lives are built
On footings from the pastWords by Boyd K. Packer
From Oct Conference 1997This Zadok Knapp history I took from my Judd book. - Jeanne Oliphant Guymon
ZADOK’S EARLY LIFE IN CANADA
The first part of his narration is from his birth until he returned to Utah from service with the Mormon Battalion. The last part he tells about his marriage, his children and places they lived until he died in 1909. Written about 1903At the solicitation of my friends I will give a brief sketch of my early life, Seventy five years have already passed; therefore, it must necessarily be brief, for many things have gone from my mind that I cannot recall. I was born in Upper Canada, District of Johnstown, County of Leeds, Township of Bostert, on the 15th October 1827. In my young school days my place of birth had to be repeated to my schoolteacher every morning.
I have been told my school days commenced when I was but four years old. As we lived in the country, it was a long distance to the schoolhouse; one to the east about three miles, one on the other side about two and one half miles. When there was no school in one house there was generally one in the other. I think I must have learned fast, especially the multiplication tables. I can remember the teacher would call up the class to recite, (the class consisted of all the large scholars of the school), and would place me at the head, standing on a bench to make me as tall as the others of the class and if any one made a mistake it was referred to me and I could answer it as quick as it could be asked. But I should have told about my parents before going to school.
About my mother I can say but very little. Her name was Lucinda Adams, daughter of Daniel Adams and Lois Chamberlin. She was born 13 December 1799 and was married February 24, 1818. She was the mother of nine children. I am the sixth. She died in Canada February 5, 1834. My father was born January 10, 1798; was the third child in a family of ten children. His name was Arza Judd Jr. After my mother's death, my sister Mary, sixteen years old, was the principal housekeeper. I remember mother's funeral , I was very sick at the time; was laying in the cradle and for want of room was pushed under the coffin. I could reach my hand up and touch the bottom of the coffin. I had a spell of sickness of about three months. In the meantime my legs had drawn up till my knees almost touched my breast and had become so stiffened I could not straighten them day or night with all the oiling and rubbing that I could endure. One day, after oiling and rubbing, father took me in his arms and sat down in a chair and offered me a new copper (value one cent) if I would let one foot hang down natural. It was very painful, but for so much money and to please father I tried it and after a long, slow and painful move I did it. I was now praised for such a manly effort and offered another copper if I would let the other down. It was slow and painful but I finally succeeded. From that time on I gained very fast.
In the latter part of 1835 (I think it was) my father found another mother for his children. He married Jane McMarn Stoddard, a widow, with four boys. This woman was a kind and good mother to father's children; very kind to me. I must relate a little occurrence that happened shortly after she came to our house . One morning she was cooking breakfast and I was standing nearby. She gave me a nice cake and I proudly stepped to the other side of the house where my father was. He said to me, 'Who gave you that cake?" (Her boys had always called her Aunt Jane and I, of course, used the same name). I answered, "Father, Aunt Jane gave it to me. My father, with rather a stern voice said, "No, that won't do; you must call her mother. Mother gave you that cake. " That was reprimand enough for me. I never called her Aunt Jane again.
The next thing worthy of notice that I remember was the coming of the Mormon Elders, John E. Page and James Bleaksley. They made quite a stir in the neighborhood. They preached a new doctrine. My father went to their preaching and after hearing two or three sermons I heard him make the remark if the Methodists would preach as they do and prove up all their points of doctrine like that, how I would I like it.
The Elders frequently came to our house and on one occasion found me laid up with an attack of the phthisic or perhaps I should call it croup, something that up to this time in my life I had been subject to frequent attacks. It often made me crazy. The Elders proposed administering to me and with Father's consent they did so and I was speedily healed and that was the last attack I ever had of that complaint. In the fall of 1836 father, mother and the older children joined the Church and meetings were held at our house frequently and many strong testimonies borne by the Saints and there was a general time of rejoicing and many received the gift of tongues.
On April 27, 1837, I was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by James Bleaksle.
I think it was on the following summer my father's brother, Ira Judd, came to help father with his haying. While at dinner one day the conversation came up about father's big family (for he now had nine children). Father asked Uncle Ira which he would rather have, Daniel (that was my oldest brother) with his yoke of yearling steers, or take Zadok with nothing. My uncle made choice of me, so for many years after that I lived with my Uncle Ira Judd. He had a wife and two children. He worked his father's farm and had the care and oversight of all of grandfather's affairs.
With my uncle and family I found a very good home. About all that joined the Church had sold their possessions and had counted on starting to Kirtland, Ohio, in the next spring, 1838, but owing to some trouble arising between some party and the government, our folks thought best to start sooner, so as soon as we could get ready, about mid-winter, cold , deep snow, we hitched up, or I should say yoked up, for we had only ox teams and drove out into the snow, - father, grandfather and Uncle Ira , three families, six wagons and some loose stock, We made quite a show for that time of year. The wagon tires rolling on the frozen snow could be heard for a long distance. It all went well with the company except the cold weather, but with me it was too much walking. I drove cows. My stiff leg and weak ankles could not stand it. In four or five days we arrived at the Saint Lawrence River and I was so badly used up I was obliged to ride the rest of the way and it was several days after we arrived at the place of destination before I could stand on my feet; in fact, my weak ankles always did bother me until I enlisted in the Mormon Battalion. There I walked it all the way.
When the company arrived at the Saint Lawrence River it was not considered safe for strangers to venture on the ice alone, so a man was found that would pilot us across the river, a distance of about two miles. He got a large armful of pine and cedar boughs and told the teamsters not to let their teams get closer together than four or five rods for too much weight in one place might break through the ice. We could not go a straight course on account of air holes and thin places in the ice where the water ran more rapidly. We were soon stretched out in a long string on the ice. When the pilot came to an air hole or a turn in the road or a dangerous place he would drop a twig to warn the teamsters to be cautious. We all crossed over in safety and after traveling about four miles further we found our new home for the rest of the winter. We were now in the United States, where we anticipated no more trouble from party strife.
Now we are in good safe quarters for the remainder of the winter, let us consider the manners and customs of the land we have just left. So far as my acquaintance extends all were good people. There must be wood enough chopped on Saturday to burn and keep us warm and do the cooking over Sunday, for that day was sacred and a day of rest. My knife, my whistle, my ball or any other playthings I had must be laid away and I must go to Sunday School and meeting. We must be sober or serious and but very little play must be indulged in. To sing comic songs or to go to a dance was quite wicked. Such were the conditions of my early home.
In our temporary location we were reasonably comfortable for campers-three families all in one room, with one big fireplace; our stock all turned into our landlord's barnyard or corralled, as we now call it, and fed with his stock. While here nothing of importance transpired; all were happy and patiently awaiting for spring time to come when we could resume our journey. In the meantime the men folks were occasionally making trips to a town back on the Saint Lawrence River to get wagon covers and other supplies necessary for the journey, After the snow had disappeared and when the sun was shining warm and bright, the wagons were all taken to a little brook nearby and washed clean and then repainted and put in good trim for the coming journey and before the roads were hardly dry enough for good traveling we were on the move.
Ours were all ox teams and when we all got together our Canada Company numbered about thirty wagons. Our method of travel was to start Monday morning and travel five days, then, if a convenient place could be found, lay by and wash and clean up and have meetings Sundays. Frequently those living near would come to our meetings, for it was given out Saturday there would be meeting the next day. John E. Page was a good preacher and generally interested the people. Then when Monday morning came all were fresh and well rested and prepared for the journey. We were traveling through a settled country, so it was not necessary to load with extra supplies. A sack of flour or a few pounds of sugar could be had almost any day. Loads were light, but if our teams traveled twenty or twenty-five miles a day we thought we were doing very well. Sometimes we would come to a steep hill that was not safe to start down without locking a wheel and our wagons are not fixed for that kind of travel and only two or three loose chains in the company, so only two or three wagons could go down at a time. Then the chains were brought back and used by others, so it would take a long time to go down one hill. Such were the conditions of travel on those days, whereas now it would not delay five minutes.
Thus matters progressed until about mid-summer when it was thought best to lay by and give the teams a rest for a few weeks and some of the men found a chance to work in the hay fields. Here I saw a new and novel way of hauling hay. Where the hay had been cocked up and allowed to settle a few days, one man would take a horse, harness a long rope attached to the whipple tree, place the rope around the hay-cock, attach the other end to the whipple tree and start the horse and drag it over the hay stubble, a distance of one quarter of a mile, with very little waste. One man could haul it and two men stack it.
After the teams were somewhat recuperated we started again and the next thing of interest was our arrival at Kirtland. When we first started we expected this would be the end of our journey. Father had sent money ahead and bought a house and small farm here, but we only stayed at the place a few days and gave the teams another short rest; but while here I with others had the privilege of visiting all the rooms of the Kirtland Temple, that sacred house where the Lord had shown his servants such glorious visions, where Elijah the prophet had come to reveal the covenants to seal the hearts of the fathers to the children and the hearts of the children to the fathers, and other great and important events transpired here in this the first temple built in this, the last dispensation; a house built when the Saints were few in numbers and poor financially. Our stay here was short. Apostates and mobbers had caused nearly all the good and worthy people to leave the place. The Kirtland camp had started for Missouri only a few days before we got there. Kirtland, then, was no place for Mormons, therefore we were not long in making ready to follow on their trail to Missouri.
We still kept up our method of traveling five days in a week and laying by Saturday and Sundays when a good and convenient place could be found, but I do not know if they were not a little more particular in finding a good place, for I believe sometime we traveled all day Saturday. However nothing of importance transpired until we got to Missouri.
Late in the fall we came to a little place called DeWitt, a new place just being started by the Saints - a very beautiful place with broad acres of rich soil covered with grass and plenty of timber near by, pleasantly located on the bank of the Missouri River, which at that place was about a half a mile wide. The location seemed to please our company. I think all concluded to stop and our presence and help was much needed to strengthen and build up the place. My Father and Uncle, Ira Judd, (and I guess the company generally) cut a lot of wild hay for winter feed and cut logs for house building and prepared for the coming winter.
But previous to this, some of the neighbors had objected to the Mormons building there and had made some threats, but now seeing such an increase in numbers and such sure calculations for building, they rallied their mob forces and called on their neighbors farther away to come and help drive off the Mormons. Their numbers were much greater than ours and their threats so loud and severe it was not considered safe for our people to scatter out to their work, therefore gathering hay and building stopped. Guarding and taking care of our stock was all we could do.
Some few shots were fired on both sides; both parties seemed determined in the meantime a petition was sent to the governor of the state for redress, and a request to our brethren at Far West for help for we considered we were in danger. The governor paid no attention to the matter, but, the brethren at Far West did, for quite a company of them came to our assistance and brought advice from the Prophet Joseph for us to leave there and go to Far West. This state of affairs was very trying to some of our sober, serious Christians that had been taught that it was wicked to fight; it almost rocked their faith in the Gospel, to take up arms and try to kill their fellow mortals was a new doctrine that some could hardly endure and it was reported some feigned sickness and stayed in their wagons, while on the contrary some of the roughest of the company that cared, seemingly, nothing for religion, were always ready and even anxious to make battle with the mob, and so we find in our day - some are willing to die for their religion but not willing to live it.
Well, now with our present force we considered ourselves safe. The mob dare not attack us, so after helping the first settlers use up their corn they had already gathered and also some honey they could not carry, we were not long in getting out on the road, leaving hay, house logs, which now we had no use for, soon forgetting all our plans for building and making comfortable homes; the brethren from Far West riding their horses, some in the rear and some in advance.
Our first day's travel brought us to a beautiful grove of timber; here we camped for the night. Here we buried old Sister Downey. She had traveled with us all the way from Canada. She was old and feeble and so much rough usage was more than she could endure. She was buried without much ceremony - without any coffin - wrapped in a quilt and put in the grove. It was a cold, frosty morning but the company was not long in getting started on the road.
I was a bare-footed cowboy, having two or three cows to drive. When I supposed the company was ready I started the cows out on the road. The whole country outside the thickest timber was covered with grass, which this morning was covered with white frost, I had not gone far until I found my feet very cold, The cows were anxious to eat, but with whip and rocks I kept them moving until I found I was away ahead of the company, suffering with cold feet, I still plodded on, and in this condition the brethren from Far West on horseback overtook me. One of them kindly offered to drive the cows and to take me up behind him on his horse . He told me to put my feet up on the horse's back and sit or squat on them and hold to him, I did so and soon became quite comfortable. To this day my heart swells with gratitude for his kindness. I never knew his name and perhaps never shall. I believe that was the most uncomfortable cow drive I remember of.
I think we were four or five days getting to Far West, where we found our brethren under arms. All the outer settlements and ranchers had moved to Far West on account of mob threats and violence. We camped here, living in our wagons and tents or such shelter as we could make with poles and brush; nor house room could be had. We remained here several weeks, during which time much stormy weather occurred. with a good deal of snow - quite disagreeable - and to make it worse our provisions consisted of cornmeal and Missouri pumpkins. The pumpkin johnny-cake gave me diarrhea as long as I ate it.
In the meantime the mob were encouraged by the state militia being sent to their aid, demanding the surrender of our leaders and all of our arms. My father had previously (having no gun) taken the handle off his butcher knife and replaced it with another about three or four feet long, willing to be of some use and to make as much show as possible. In delivering up the arms this had to go with guns and swords, which was all private property but was never returned.
But previous to this, __________ Kinkle, a colonel in our ranks, had visited the enemy's camp, which was about one and a half miles away, and had agreed to get the surrender of Joseph and Hyrum Smith, and he returned with false reports and fair promises and persuaded them to give themselves up. Accordingly, in the evening they went to the mob camp and on their arrival the mob commenced a yell that far exceeded any human noise that ever I heard, both for loudness and terror. 'It was plainly heard all over the town of Far West and was continued loud and long, ferocious, for near one half hour. The next day the town was searched for arms and prisoners. This was the time when the arms were given up. The brethren were required to all assemble, each one bringing his weapon of defense, on the public square, and were strongly guarded by the mob and the militia. The officers preached, scolded and threatened if the Mormons ever convened together again. Our men were required, each one at a time to come forward and lay down his weapon of defense and sign a treaty stipulating their property should be sold to defray the expense of the war and were given until next spring to leave the state. Many, or nearly all the principal men were taken prisoners and the others were allowed to scatter and shift for themselves. Now those who had houses or homes moved back to them, so our company moved to different places. My uncle went with Allen Taylor who lived about eight miles from Far West. He had previously raised a good crop of corn, which he generously shared with my uncle. His house was small - a one-room log cabin, but we were welcome and quite comfortable considering what we had been. Here we spent the remainder of the winter. About this time my oldest sister Mary was married to John E. Page.
The best show for grinding corn was a one horse power mill, about eight or ten miles away and it was not considered very safe for Mormons to go there, so our only chance was to get large ears of corn and boil it until it was a little soft, and then rub it on a grater, which was made by punching holes in a piece of tin and bending and nailing it to a board, something like a nutmeg grater. This was a slow way of grinding, but I was big enough to furnish all the meal the family needed, and many a time I rubbed the hide off from my fingers or knuckles by carelessly getting too close to the grater.
My father found a place with another family about three miles from where we were but across a trackless prairie. I used to visit there occasionally and while crossing the prairie I have often seen herds of wild deer. It was a good country for wild game. That family had another way of making corn meal - The stump of a large tree near the house was cut flat and level and then a hole dug in the center about eighteen inches deep, large enough to hold several quarts of corn, the bottom made rounding like a mortar and a large hardwood pessel made to fit the mortar. The pessel was attached to a spring pole just stiff enough to raise the pessel . The pole was fastened to the corner of the house. With this they could mush the dry, hard corn any way to get something to eat when hungry.
We had a long and tedious winter, living on corn bread, yet nothing noteworthy transpired. When spring came the Mormons left the state as soon as they could. We were on the road as soon as the snow disappeared. Teams were poor and often two or three families would be loaded into one wagon, but corn and meal were cheap and sometimes teams were fed too much. The roads were muddy and our progress seemed slow while traveling through the enemy's country. When we arrived at the Mississippi River, near St. Louis, we found many families had been dropped on the ground and the teams returned to Far West to get others, but we all had to wait several days because the river was so full of floating ice the ferry boat could not run, but we were finally ferried over and landed in the state of Illinois and I guess as much rejoiced to get out of Missouri as we were to get into it. We were kindly received by the people and felt we were out of the reach of all mobs.
When spring planting time had come, my uncle with his family found himself in a little town called Bloomfield. Here he went to work. A neighbor came to me and asked me how much I could charge to cut corn stalks for him per day. I told him I would work for a picayune a day. He said "Come to his house the next morning. "I went and was given a large sharp hoe and showed to a last year's corn field; was told to cut close to the ground. I could cut about two acres per day. I worked four days all alone and in settling up with my uncle he paid one dollar, which was equal to four picayunes a day.
My uncle rented a piece of land and raised a crop of corn. When threshing time came this man that I cut corn stalks for got me to hide his horses on the threshing floor. Think I worked for him several days for which he paid me twenty-five cents per day.
The next move I remember of was to a farm about five miles from Springfield, Illinois, Sangamon County. Here we rented land and lived, I think, two years, This is the last place I saw my grandfather and grandmother. They passed through all the Missouri troubles and stood it fairly well I but they were getting old and quietly passed away about 1842. He was sixty-five years old at his death. They both died within a few months time of each other. I was not living there when they died for my brother Hyrum had come for me to go and live with father previous to their death.
My father was living on a farm a few miles below Warsaw on the Mississippi River bottom, where the fog would rise every morning so thick we could not see but a short distance and would remain until nine or ten o'clock. It was a sickly place, but after raising one crop father moved to Warsaw town. In the latter part of the winter of 1839 father left his family at Warsaw and went to Nauvoo, about twenty miles up the river, to build a house previous to moving there. We went to an island opposite Nauvoo and cut house logs and hauled them over on the ice and built a comfortable log cabin; got it nearly completed and was taken sick and had to come to his family in Warsaw. Too much hard work and exposure had brought on his fatal sickness. In about three weeks he died and was buried in Warsaw graveyard.
Just before starting to build in Nauvoo he sold his land and claim in Missouri, having been driven from it by the mob and did not expect to go back. He sold it for a mere trifle - a small pony and some household effects. Now my good stepmother having buried her second husband, gathered her family around her and concluded to move to Nauvoo. By the help of the boys she managed to complete the house father had started in Nouvoo and moved into it. She also got the city lot fenced and that same year, 1840 , raised a fair crop on it.
I was sent a few miles out of town to drive a team (two yoke of oxen) to break up new land, but only expected to stay two or three days, but the man's (property) increased or he liked my help. He wanted me to stay longer, but I did not want to. In his talk to get me to stay he told me mother said I should stay, that I was only a nuisance at home and I had better stay, but I couldn't be persuaded. I must go home and get a clean shirt and then I would see about it. On my road home I got to thinking what he had told me mother said about me and it set very, very heavy on my mind. I thought if mother did not want me around, who did and what could I do. I surely had the blues. I got home without being seen and slipped around behind the house and sat down out of sight. I remained there a long time. Finally one of the boys happened to see me and went in and told mother. She came out and wanted to know why I did not come into the house. I told the full story; she soon learned the cause of my feelings. She had said no such thing and gave me many words of comfort and showed herself to be the kind and affectionate mother which she always was to me and I was soon made happy. We spent the summer and winter here, but many times our whole meal was nothing but salt and potatoes.
In the following spring my uncle Ira came from his home near Springfield to pay us a visit and see Nauvoo. I went home with him to live with him again. While living here,. my uncle thought best for me to learn a trade. Being small and puny he thought the tailor's trade the most suitable for me. Accordingly he found a place with P. G. Bowman, a good mechanic and a Mormon, but not very religious. I worked with him for about a year and I was getting so I could help him considerable and I suppose he thought I was liable to run away at any time, as he had done, for he ran from his home to learn the trade and then before his time was out he ran away from his boss, so he took me to the Probate Judge and had me bound to serve him four years, I, to have clothing and board, etc. and a certain amount of schooling and he to pay the doctor's bill in case of sickness. About two years after that he hired a girl to do the housework while his wife being a good seamstress, helped him with his work, which was now coming in quite plentiful, but he soon fell in love with the hired girl and quit business, shop and all and left the country, having previously sent the girl to where he wanted to go. Before leaving he had pretended to his wife he wanted to go back and see his folks. His mother was still living and she (his wife) the good soul, took it all in good faith that he was honest. With me he had made arrangements that I should sell a few articles outside the house and get money to pay passage and follow him. All this was done and yet his wife thought he was a good man until he wrote her a letter telling her to look out for herself, but when I told her of the arrangements he had made with me then she gave him up as a rascal. I now commenced going to school on his credit, but I had not finished the quarter's schooling until it was intimated there was no one to pay the bill, although a kind friend, L. B. Adams, told me to stick to the school -- he would pay the bill. This was L. B. Adams, son of the Probate judge; a good man and a kind friend. But I did not feel at home in doing so, so I quit and went to work in another tailor shop for three dollars per week, boarding with my former mistress, the grass widow, Harriet Bowman.
I have forgotten to relate a circumstance while living with my stepmother in Nauvoo. While living poor and enduring hard times, mother took me with her boys to the Patriarch Joseph Smith, Sr. to get patriarchal blessings. She could not pay for all, but we boys each received a blessing, which was not recorded. I remember some things that were said to me. He told me my name was recorded in the Lamb's Book of Life and angels had charge to watch over me continually and that I was one of the 144,000 that should stand as saviors upon Mount Zion in the latter days. I did not realize the importance of that or scarcely knew the meaning of it then, but I could not help but remember it. I was the youngest, then living, of the family, and my kindred had almost all joined the Church, so this privilege apparently could not come to me by birthright and how could he know anything about it unless directed by the good spirit. But as time rolls on what do I find my kindred have died and gone and a large genealogy of the Judd Family containing thousands of names is put into my hands and it is my duty to see that the work for my ancestors is done, and by my exertions and the help of friends some fourteen or fifteen hundred have been worked and many more yet to do (A.D. 1903). Surely I should accept this as a testimony to the truth of the Gospel.
Right here I might relate another circumstance that to me was a sufficient testimony of the truth of the Gospel. I had for years been more or less acquainted with the Prophet Joseph Smith. I had many, many times heard him preach, had heard him talk with others in common conversation. I had known his voice as well as I do that of my most intimate friend. At the time of his martyrdom in June, I was in Springfield, Illinois. This circumstance I am going to relate happened late in the fall or early winter. The people had usually convened for meeting in a little grove near the Temple. A bowery had been built, and seats arranged to accommodate all. A good place for summer meeting. In the meantime the building of the Temple had progressed; the roof was on, the windows were in it, the floor was laid, but no seats arranged. It was a cold, wet Sunday and a drizzling rain. The meeting had been adjourned from the grove to the Temple, for there, people could get shelter. While waiting for the people to gather and also for the hour of meeting, Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball and some others of the Quorum of the Twelve had come to an upper room or a kind of gallery and seemed to be passing and repassing an open door and window and from the position I had chosen, which was next to the wall and near the stand, I could see them very plainly, and although I knew Joseph was dead, I could scarcely make myself believe he was not there. His look, his motion, his walk were precisely like that of Joseph and yet it was Brigham Young, and when he came to and commenced to speak to the people his voice was like Joseph's. In the meantime people had gathered in and standing, huddled close together, made such an immense weight on the floor that the propping under the center gave way and let the floor settle a few inches, which caused quite a panic among the people and some tried to rush for the door, but the loud voice of the Prophet Joseph soon restored quiet and only a few were hurt by being pushed down and stepped on. No damage was done, only a few broken windows. The change of voice and appearance I could not account for only that the mantle of Joseph had fallen on Brigham Young.
Well, a few words more about the tailor shop. In my young apprenticeship I was encouraged to take in such jobs of work from my associates or others as I could and to do it at odd spells or evenings when he was away or after he had quit work and by so doing I could get a little money to go to the theater or get any extras I chose. I bought me a pocket Bible and some other books, but my wants were few and necessities less and I soon found I had quite a lot of little change, so I went to a pawn-broker's shop and told the man I wanted a five-dollar gold piece for a handful of silver. He gave me a very nice piece, which I carried as a pocket piece for quite a while. Now I thought I was rich, but it soon became an old story and I changed it for a five-dollar bill and sent it in a letter to my good step mother in Nauvoo, requesting her to give it to the Temple building. I soon received a kind letter from her, She was much in need of money at the time and her boy should work on the temple stone quarry and give me the credit. I was satisfied and glad I had sent it to her. This happened before my boss left his wife. I continued working in the tailor shop for three dollars per week for about a year.
About this time trouble was arising 'in Nauvoo, which finally culminated in the massacre of the Prophet and his brother Hyrum and the agreement of the Saints to leave Nauvoo. I felt that my best home was with the Saints and in the fall of 1844 I gathered my effects and the first chance to go with a team I started for Nauvoo, and after arriving there I soon found work in a tailor shop. Here I spent the winter. In the meantime all my comrade tailors were all invited to the Temple to receive endowments and I suppose through their influence, I also was invited, for it was seldom that boys of my age were given that privilege. It was generally the old and faithful that got their endowments there.
One Sunday I happened at a meeting which had convened for the purpose of ordaining Seventies. While not supposing I was a candidate for that office, but from mere curiosity, was there among the people, some one called my name and when it was presented for acceptance, some one else offered to vouch for my worthiness and I did not know either of their names, so I met with that quorum several times in Nauvoo and gave the clerk my genealogy as far back as I could, which was back to my great grandfather, Thomas Judd.
The main topic now was getting wagons to move with next spring. All the fences for miles around were searched for oak rails that would do to work into wagon timber. Iron was scarce. There was little or none to be had in Nauvoo and many wagons were made with wooden tires which seemed to stand the trip very well. My brother, Daniel got in with a family by the name of Joseph Goon and went out, I never knew where to work to get an outfit to move west with the Church. I never heard from him since.
My brother Hyrum's wife's uncle, Daniel C. Davis., (afterwards captain, Company E., Mormon Battalion) was organizing a company to move west with the Church. Hyrum joined his company and in it found a place where, if I would drive team, I could have my effects hauled and get my board while traveling. I gladly accepted this position, for then I could travel in the same company with my brother Hyrum; so I put my trunk into Brother Daniel's wagon and got my board and washing for driving [the] team. I had a good home while traveling.
It was early spring and much of the prairie the company traveled over was quite soft which made our progress slow. After the country became dry and the weather warm the newly-made wagons soon needed repair. In selecting the timber for making them, no doubt some of it was not well seasoned. On such occasions the company would lay by, the blacksmith would build a forge, put up his bellows and start shop, cut and set tire, till all was made tight. With the exception of these occasional stops, nothing of importance happened until we had passed Pleasant Grove or Hickory Thunder and Mount Pisgah, two places which had been designated for people to stop who had part of their effects back or those who wished to return and help others from Nauvoo.
Here on this wild land crops were planted and it proved to be a help to others who came later. But when our company got within four or five days' travel of Sarpee's Point, or near where Winter Quarters was afterwards located, we met brethren right from the Church authorities, as they were several days ahead of us, with a request that all who could possibly be spared should enlist as soldiers in the government service to serve as such for the term of one year. This was quite a hard pill to swallow - to leave wives and children on the wild prairies, destitute and almost helpless, having nothing to rely on only the kindness of neighbors, and go to fight the battles of a government that had allowed some of its citizens to drive us from our homes, but the word came from the right source and seemed to bring the spirit of conviction of its truth with it and there was quite a number of our company volunteered, myself and brother among them.
We were now requested to hurry on as fast as possible and join the main company which had been enrolled on the 16th of July, but our company did not get there until the 20th. Our number made up all that was locking and we were organized and numbered with the Mormon Battalion and we commenced drawing rations of flour and bacon. We were allowed to go to an Indian trading post, which was there on the bank of the Missouri River and each one drew a blanket to be paid for out of our pay, which was to be eight dollars per month. We were also allowed, I think it was $3.50 per month for clothing money, which was paid to us in advance for the year. This gave us a nice little sum of money for poor folks to own. The main part of this money was sent back to wives or children or relatives who had been left dependent and helpless in a wild country. As yet we had no cooking utensils. We were organized in masses of six men to cook, eat and sleep in one tent. Our rations were abundant - eighteen ounces of flour per day, four ounces of pork, sugar and coffee plentiful . We drew our rations for the mess of six men in one bulk. Now as we had no cooking utensils a lump of dough was mixed by pouring water in the sack which had been opened and the flour hollowed out to hold the water, Now when the dough was properly mixed, each man would get a stick, similar to a common walking cane, go to the sack and get a lump of dough, pull it out in a long string and wrap it around and around the stick and then hold it to the fire until it was considered baked; then eat. The pork we did not use much of. In this way we traveled down the Missouri River for Fort Leavenworth; happy and cheerful, singing and dancing.
One day one of the boys, rather an eccentric character, had procured an odd kind of hat with a feather in it, similar to an officer's uniform. He went ahead of the company several miles and about noon called at a farm house and asked for his dinner, stating he was the colonel of the Mormon Battalion. Of course he was given his dinner and the farmer thought himself highly honored to have such a guest. When the company came to the farm house quite a number of the boys stopped for a drink of water. The man was telling them that our colonel had stopped there and got his dinner, Some of the boys inquired how he looked and what kind of man he was and from the description given the boys recognized the comrade with a feather in his hat, and had a hearty laugh about it. After the company had camped for the night the man with a feather in his hat came walking back into camp. The boys saw him coming and knowing what he had done, began to hail him and holler, "Here comes the colonel." The news soon spread through the entire camp and so much yelling and cheering brought the Colonel Allen from his quarters to inquire what was the matter. On being told the circumstances he also had a hearty laugh over it.
In due time we arrived at Fort Leavenworth. Here we were armed with a flintlock musket. It was said to carry an ounce ball one mile. Its weight was twelve or fifteen pounds. Its accouterments were a large cartridge box with heavy leather belt two and one-fourth inches wide to carry over the left shoulder, a similar belt with bayonet and scabbard attached to carry over the right shoulder and then a waist belt, correspondingly wide and heavy, all white leather, and we were required to keep them clean. Our muskets had to be cleaned often. Also a knap-sack in which to carry our clothing and any other little necessities. It was so arranged that a strap came in front of each shoulder and under the arm with a long strap to reach around our bedding. With all these straps in front and the filled knapsack behind, we were nearly covered from neck to waist. We were required to carry all these fixtures, our clothing and bedding and a few rounds of ammunition and then a canteen which would hold three pints of water, .and then a small cotton sock called a hover-sack, in which to carry dinner and sometimes a day or two rations. These were also made to swing over our shoulders. But to ease up on us a little the officers allowed each company to club together and buy a four mule team and wagon, in which to haul our knapsacks and bedding, each man to bear equal share of the expense. This was a real relief for a while, but when hard times came on, wagon broke down or teams gave out, we had to shoulder our knapsacks and bedding. Here in Fort Leavenworth we were given cooking utensils, a camp kettle, frying pan and coffee pot. Here we drew our clothing money for the entire year, $42.00 which, as I have said, was mostly sent back to needy friends or relatives. Here our commander, Colonel Allen, laid in a supply of provisions to last the Battalion one year, but by a mishap it was sent the wrong road.
After a few days rest and a little drilling and learning to use our guns and properly form ourselves into ranks and getting baggage, wagons ready, we took up the line of march. Our colonel being unwell at the time was not able to go with us, but it was expected he would overtake us in a few days. The next news we heard of him he was dead. That cast a gloom over the entire company. What could we do? Our provisions were not within our reach, our captains were not yet commissioned; it was said we could not draw rations, so a council of officers was held and it was decided to send to Fort Leavenworth and ask for a commissioned officer to come and take command. Accordingly a commissioned officer was sent. His name was Smith. Colonel Smith took command until we arrived at Santa Fe, and with the colonel and staff came a doctor whose name was Sanders. His principal medicine was quinine.
The doctor and his quinine played quite a conspicuous part on our journey. Every morning at a stated hour the fifes and drums would play a certain tune that was the sick call. If anything was ailing any of the men, if they had taken cold or had blistered feet through walking in poor shoes, or anything else, they would go at the sick call and the orderly sergeant would go with them to the doctor's quarters, and after a light examination the doctor would give each one a nice little paper containing a dose of calomel. All were treated alike. They were told to take it with water before eating breakfast. The men fearing to be salivated would often bury it before getting back to camp. After a while the doctor found out the men did not take calomel . After that they had to take it in his presence. During the time men were on the sick list they were excused from guard duty, but had to carry their gun and knapsack.
We were on the march every day; all fresh and not much used to walking and it was hard on many of us. There were several good fiddlers among us and someone had managed to get his fiddle stowed away in a captain's wagon and often after a hard day's march, the fiddle was brought out and a lively dance would commence and would continue for the entire evening. There were no girls, but many of the boys would take the girl's side and go the dance all right. The boys did say it was best way to rest and they felt better than they would to sit down and sit still.
We were on the route for Santa Fe, nearly one thousand miles distant. Several companies of cavalry were on the same route and maybe passed us. They could not travel with us, but before we got to Santa Fe we passed them. When nearing Santa Fe we overtook a company that had a good supply of provisions and ours were getting quite low. Our colonel asked to borrow a few sacks of flour. The captain at first refused. Our colonel told him we must have it if he had to call out his men and take it, We got he flour all right. When within five or six day's march of Santa Fe a message or dispatch was sent to us from General Kearney, who was then in Santa Fe, saying we must hurry. All that were not in Santa Fe by such a date could not cross the mountains for California.
We were considerably jaded and at our present speed of travel we could not make it, so it was decided to take the best men for traveling and the best teams and push through and let the others come as fast as they could. Accordingly a few of the best of each company were selected and pushed ahead, I with others, and we arrived there in time to save disobeying orders of General Kearney.
From Santa Fe to California was considered a very hard trip so we were picked over and divided again. The most able-bodied men to go through to California; the sick, the crippled and worn out and laundresses, four women from each company, to turn to Ben's Fort and there spend the winter. I was again selected to go ahead.
After resting a few days and getting some fresh teams and some clothing (for here was our first pay day for service and considerable money was sent back to needy relatives and friends) we made ready for a start. We were told we would get to California in sixty days, but we were on the road one hundred and twenty days. So our commissary laid a supply of provisions for that time (sixty days), but it was scant, for provisions were scarce then at Santa Fe; two ounces per day flour less than common. There was no wagon road and no one that could be found knew the country, so three men, professed mountaineers, were employed as guides or pilots. One would go what he supposed was three days' travel from us and look out the best route for a wagon road and then return and lead the company that distance, and by that time another pilot would have explored the country and returned, and by so doing we always had a guide fhat knew the country.
After traveling about twenty-five days a bearing was taken with instruments. It was found we were a long ways from California. We had until now been eating our provisions as though we could get to California where there was more in sixty days, but it was now decided it would take a much longer time so our rations were reduced one-fourth less. This began to tell hard on the men, yet we kept pushing ahead until another fifteen or twenty days and then another reckoning was made and found we would yet have to travel a long distance, so our rations were reduced again to one half and we were a long ways from any place where more provisions could be had. Our best and only show was to push ahead and we did. About now we came to some half-breeds, Indians and Spanish. From them a few of us, as individuals, could trade for a little dried meat, which we then called very, very good, We were now getting quite hungry and we learned from these people it was but three days' travel to a Spanish town where we could get provisions. It was off from our route but a good wagon road to it. Copper ore had been hauled on the road many years. Our colonel said: "Let us go down and get provisions." It was going right among our enemies, but we were all willing to go to get something to eat. So next morning we started on the copper mine road for the Spanish town, of all rejoicing, After traveling three or four miles the colonel ordered his bugler to call a halt. All hands wondered what was the matter. After a moment's breath the colonel turned to his staff, officers and pilots and said, "Gentlemen,, I started for California and damned if I ain't going there. Pilot, you hunt a road for the wagons on the course we have been traveling and go ahead and find a camp ground." So we turned our course about right angle and started for California. We afterwards learned the Spaniards had been closely watching us and they expected we would go to that town and had, therefore, collected a large force of their soldiers at that point, and no doubt if we had not turned our course, we should have had hard fighting to do and perhaps many of us would have lost our lives, but the Lord controlled the colonel's mind and we came out safe.
I should here mention a promise or predication made by President Brigham Young before we started, that if we would be faithful, do our duty, remember our prayers, we would never be called to face the enemy in battle. This was verified in every instance during our service. The details of our travels given in Daniel Tyler's history of the Mormon Battalion is given more definite and concise than I can give it here. Those interested are referred to that; therefore, I will pass on to our arrival in California.
I well remember the awe, the grandeur and amazement I felt when first I beheld the Pacific Ocean. Seeing such a vast body of water spread out farther than the eye could reach and hear the roar of the waves, created a reverence within me for the great creator of all things, whose power and might are far beyond our comprehension. If I could but shape my thoughts and put them on paper, I would like to describe the country.
It was now mid-winter, January; warm and pleasant - scarcely a mark of frost - which was certainly a blessing to us in our ragged and scanty condition. Flocks of wild geese could be seen any time of day; herds of horses and cattle, nice and fat, all over the plains, which were covered with a rich growth of vegetation, mostly wild oats, not the pesky kind that infests our fields here, but the regular oats, and a tolerable fair grain. This was somewhat cheering, but we were tired and hungry.
We were first located in an old missionary building near Santiago, where we remained but a short time. We were then moved to another missionary station, called San Louis Rey, larger and more commodious, but every room -was thoroughly infested with body lice. We were all soon covered with them and with all our cleaning rooms and washing and boiling our clothes we could not get rid of them while we stayed in that place. Every day it was common to go out, find a warm sunshiny place, strip ourselves and hunt and kill lice. It was said the Indians used to eat them. While here five pounds of good fat beef was given each man's daily rations, but all this did not stop hunger until we got some bread to go with it.
After laying here for a long time, eating nothing but fresh beef, we were suddenly called by General Kearney to march to Pueblo, Los Angeles. This forced march of four or five days was very severe on us. We were called to defend and assist General Kearney against Fremont and his company, who were our enemies, or mobocrats right from Missouri. Fremont claimed he had conquered the country and it was his right to be governor. We now expected trouble.
Fremont and his men were bitter enemies to the Mormons and we were not much in love with them. After arriving at Los Angeles we were halted and required to stand in ranks ready at a moment's notice. We were in this position for about two hours while the two generals discussed the matter, but we were finally allowed to sit down or stand at ease. We never saw the enemy, but we were marched to the outside of town and camped in our tents on the bank of a nice stream of water. In a few days we were moved to the bench which overlooked the town. Here we were required to build a place of defense by throwing up a bank of earth and making a ditch wide and deep enough so a horseman could not easily ride over it, but the job was not completed by us.
Nothing worthy of note occurred with me except one occasion. Through taking cold or something else, I lost my voice. I could not speak above a whisper and so could not do guard duty and it was necessary that I should be reported on the sick list. This was the only time I was on the Doctor's hands, which lasted four or five days. Our time of discharge was now drawing nigh. We were allowed to buy horses or mules or anything for our outfit for home. Good horses could be bought for from $3 to $5; beeves from $2 to $3 per head. In the meantime it was considered our discharge was going to leave the country too weak and we were earnestly requested to enlist again and a few did enlist again and were sent to Santiago to strengthen that place, but I thought we had done all we were sent to do and I wanted to get home or back to the Church. So, my brother Hyrum and I, with a number of others of the same mind, (from forty to one hundred men), prepared ourselves for the journey toward home.
We traveled up the west coast until we came to Sutter's Fort, about east of San Francisco. From here we started over the mountains on the wagon road. When we arrived at the Truckee River we met Samuel Brannan and others, just from Salt Lake, bringing word from the Quorum of the Twelve, which was then the ruling authority of the church, advising all who had not provisions enough to last them until the next harvest to return to California unless they expected to go right on through to Winter Quarters, for provisions were scarce in Salt Lake. Therefore, I, with a number of others, returned to California. I went to San Francisco and looked for work at the tailoring business. I remained there a few days but not finding work that suited, I went to Monterey. Here I found a chance to work in a tailor shop I worked there a few weeks. In the meantime many of my comrades had stopped at Sutter's and were digging a mill race for Sutter. In digging the race gold was discovered in great abundance.
( The continuation of the story of the life of Zadok Knapp Judd, the former part of which is in a book, now in the possession of Gertrude Cottam at Saint George, Utah.)
While my companions were digging the millrace for Sutter, in which gold was discovered, I was wandering around the country trying to find work in a tailor shop. When the report reached me I was in Monterey, California about one hundred and fifty miles away. When the report of so much gold being found reached the people they were anxious to go there. One man offered to furnish provisions, wagon and team, if men would go and work in the mines and give him a portion of what they found. This company I joined, with the understanding that when my companions were ready to go home, I should go with them. We were soon on the road traveling for the mines.
I had a horse to ride, while others rode in the wagon. An intimate friend of mine took turns with me in riding the horse. One would ride while one walked. We would keep near the wagon so we could get our provisions at mealtime.
In our second day's travel we came to a ranch at which I had left a horse a year previous. We got that horse so each of us had one to ride. We traveled on in this way until we came near the mines.
We came to where the road forked, one leading to the mines, the other to where my companions were. I let my friend ride the horse to the mines with the understanding that I would be up in a few days and get the horse; but when I went after the horse my friend had turned him out and could not find him, so I bade goodbye to friend, horse and mines and turned back to the camp of my companions.
They were calculating to go back home, which place was in Utah at that time. They had got a wagon which was about one day's distance. They proposed to me that if I would go and get the wagon, I should be allowed wages for my time at the rate of one hundred dollars per day, which should be allowed on my share of the outfit they were getting up for our journey homeward. I got the wagon and brought it safe to them.
I must tell you why wages were counted one hundred dollars per day. A man would take his little Indian basket or common milk pan, go to the place where gold was found, fill it with dirt containing gold, take it to the river, sink it up until the dirt was all washed away, then empty the contents of the pan onto a plate, or any tight dish, fill his pan with dirt and gold again and go through the same process of washing the dirt away, and emptying it onto the pile on the plate. When a quantity of this kind had accumulated, it was put into a smaller dish and spoonful or two of quicksilver added to it. The quicksilver would gather all the gold and the refuse was then thrown away. Quicksilver and gold were then put into a little buckskin sack, the sock was twisted up and wrung and the quicksilver would run through like water through cloth, leaving all the gold in the buckskin sack, and the quicksilver could be used again for an indefinite number of times. In this way a man would gather a hundred dollars worth of gold, or more , in a day.
This man Sutter had two small brass cannons which he proposed to sell. It was proposed that the battalion boys buy these cannons, and take them to Utah as a present to the authorities there. The cannons were bought, each boy paying a small pinch of gold to make up the price, which was about seventy five dollars a piece. They were loaded into the wagon ready for transportation when all were ready to go.
It was decided that we would make a wagon road over the California mountains which would shorten the distance of a few days' travel on a new route.
None were to go further than a little valley until all were there, for we must travel together in order to help each other work the road and be a protection against the Indians. A few of the boys went there before the others were ready. Two of them became impatient and anxious to be doing some good, concluded that they would go ahead and look up the intended route saying that they would be back in the course of a few days, but they never returned, When the company was ready it started, following on their trail. After traveling a day or two we came to a place where they had camped and nearby where their fire had been was a pile of fresh dirt. This looked a little suspicious and a shovel was brought and in digging into this pile of fresh dirt, we found that our companions had been killed and buried by the Indians. We covered them up and put a few stones over their graves and cut their names, Daniel Browelt and John Cox, on a large tree nearby. We journeyed on a few miles farther that day and camped. And when all was dark in the night, it was proposed that we load and fire one of the cannon to frighten the Indians, if any were near. We did not know how much it frightened the Indians, but it frightened our stock and they ran and scattered, so it took us nearly all of the next day to find them.
After traveling from here we saw several parties of Indians, some of whom were wearing the clothes of our comrades. We did not molest them but traveled on in peace, occasionally stopping to do a little road work. We made good progress on our journey and left behind us a good road, until we got nearly across the mountains. In coming down a canyon we came to large rocks which were impassable with the wagons. They were from eight to ten feet high.
We had no hammers nor drill with which we could do anything with the stone, it seemed almost an impossibility to go farther. Finally some one suggested that we build a fire on the rocks, and as there was plenty of dry logs and brush near, there was soon a good fire blazing on each rock that lay in our way When the fire had died down and cooled off a little, we found that as far as the heat had penetrated, the rocks were all broken in small pieces, which were soon removed with pick and shovel, and another fire built with the same result.
After building three or four fires, we found that the rocks were not much in our way, and we soon had a good wagon road right over them, and we were within a short distance of the old wagon road on Truckee River.
While crossing over the mountains, the wagon that I was interested in broke down and was left by the roadside. We got all of our effects out of the wagon and put them on pack animals.
We now had no more road work to do, and concluded that we would divide into two companies, pack animals and wagons. I was with the company of pack animals and we could make better headway than the wagons, so we traveled ahead and left them.
All things went well until we reached near the upper end of Saint Mary's River. One day we camped for noon, one warm pleasant day, some of the boys stripped off their clothes for a bath in the river, I with the others. We all had a fine time until I found a hole too deep for me to wade in, and being no swimmer sunk to the bottom. When rising again to the surface, some of the boys saw that I was in trouble, for I soon went to the bottom again. One man, a good swimmer, soon came to my rescue and when I came up again, he gave me a tremendous shove toward the shore. Of course, I sunk again, but he followed me and as soon as I rose, he gave me another push for the shore. Down I went again and got another ducking. After a few such plunges, I found myself on the shore and my head above water. This was the second time I came near losing my life by drowning. The first time, myself and several of my companions went to the Mississippi River for a swim. I got into the water where it was too deep for me to wade and sank to the bottom two or three times before I was discovered by my playmates; but when they got me out I was entirely unconscious and knew nothing about it, but after a time I came to and was able to walk home I may have related this first drowning in the other book, but do not remember.
It seems my life was spared for some purpose and hope I will yet not be wasted for naught.
Reminiscences of Zadok Knapp Judd Senior
Written about 1903Additions from his children to 1908
Section 2 1848-1908
Nothing worthy of note happened on our journey until our arrival in Salt Lake Valley September, 1848. Here I found my good old stepmother, Jane Stoddard Judd. She, with her family, had arrived the year before.
The first night after I came home, she made me a bed on the floor with several heavy quilts folded, but I had been so used to sleeping on the hardboard that I could not go to sleep until after midnight. In order to rest, I had to take the top quilt off and roll myself up in it. Then sleep soon overcame me and I had a comfortable night's rest.
During the next day I spent a little time looking for provisions. I found that grain was very scarce, and I might tell you in part why it was scarce. In the first place the people hadn't much seed to plant and after they had gotten their crops nicely growing, they were visited with an innumerable army of large black crickets, coming down from the sides of the mountains, that the people could not drive them away and destroy them.
They were nearly as large as a man's thumb and every day seemed to be gaining a little ground, eating every green thing that they came to, entirely destroying the crop as they went along.
After several days fighting the crickets, the people were somewhat surprised to see numerous flocks of seagulls, a large white bird about the size of a common goose. They came from the Northwest. They lit down on the crickets and commenced eating them like hungry chickens would eat grains of wheat, until their crops were entirely filled, then they would vomit or throw them up, and commence eating again. This the seagulls continued day after day until the crickets were all destroyed.
Much of the crops were destroyed by the crickets which made the people's provisions very scarce. I found one man who thought he could spare four or five bushels of wheat, but after learning that I had no family, he declined to let me have it; but I finally obtained a sack of corn which I got ground fine for bread, The corn proved to be a little damp and the meal soon got musty, for I did not know how to take care of it. This was my winter's bread and I ate it and felt thankful for it.
I found a small room which I rented, and in it I started a tailor shop. I made for one man a coat of a buffalo robe, for which I obtained a bushel of potatoes, which I buried in the ground at the rear of my shop, but the water ran into the hole and many of them were destroyed, but the following spring I planted the remainder of them on a lot belonging to my brother-in-law, B, T. Mitchell. The council from the leading authorities was to lay aside all mechanical tools, and start the plow and forward agricultural business. This council I was willing to obey, for there was little or nothing to do in the tailor shop. I plowed my brother-in-law's city lot and planted and worked at it through the season.
In the meantime, the gold immigration had begun to come in, They were going to California to gather gold that had been discovered by the Mormon Battalion, while digging Sutter's Mill Race. When they got into the Valley, they, found that they had much more loading than they could manage, and their teams had given out, and they proposed trading oxen and wagons for horses which they could pack and go on through to California.
They had many mechanical tools, and some clothing, which the people here in the Valley needed. These were sold here about as cheap as they could be bought in New York City, This fulfilled the prophecy of Heber C. Kimball, a short time previous, that merchandise would be sold here as cheap as in the eastern country.
I traded them two horses, for which I received three yoke of cattle, a good wagon, a sheet iron cook stove, a dozen shirts, a good silver watch and nearly a half a barrel of port, some mechanical tools. They put their packs onto the horses and started for California.
Later in the season, 1849, my brother, Hyrum Judd, came in from Winter Quarters, with his family. After remaining with me a few days, he passed on through the city and some fifteen miles north of the city, and located near his wife's uncle, Daniel C. Davis, who was Captain of Company E of the Mormon Battalion, the Company I was in.
When winter came, I went to spend my time with my brother Hyrum. I helped him a little in building his house, in which we spent the winter very comfortably. In the fore part of the winter, the settlers in Provo had got into trouble with the Indians, which brought on the war which was known as the Provo War. There was a call made for volunteers to go to their assistance. I was one that went. There was about ten inches of snow on the ground which made cold and disagreeable traveling, but we arrived at Provo late in the evening of the second day.
The next day all our force and Provo settlers started for the Indian camp, which was about one mile up the river in the cottonwood timber. We found the Indians in a gulch. It was quite difficult to see them. When one of them was seen, some of our force would fire at him, and when they saw one of us, they would shoot at us. Thus shots were exchanged during the day, While rambling around through the bushes., I had stooped down to look under a bunch of willows which the snow had bent down, While in this position, a bullet came so near my forehead that it made the skin burn and smart, but I was not harmed. I quickly moved to another place. When night came, we all quickly returned to Provo for a night camp,
The next day the same thing was followed up. One of our men was killed and one wounded, being shot through the nose, while the battle lasted two or three days. The next day we went up as usual . We found no Indians there. There had been some fifteen or twenty of them killed and left on the ground. The others had retreated and fled for the mountain.
Some of our force followed them up but did not overtake them. Now we all returned to our quarters in Provo and the next day the volunteers started for home.
Still later in the season of 1849, a call was made for volunteers to go and settle little Salt Lake, which is now known as Parowan. The Bishop where I lived called on my brother and stated that I should go with the company to settle the Little Salt Lake.
One item of history that I have overlooked. Late in the summer of 1849 I was called with another chap about my size and age to go with thirteen yoke of cattle and a wagon to meet the hind company of the emigration. We traveled with our thirteen yoke of cattle all hitched to the wagon until we passed through Fort Bridger, a distance of one hundred miles. Then we began to meet companies of emigrants coming in. My comrade soon met his folks with the companies. He turned back, leaving me with the cattle and wagon to manage as best I could. In this condition I traveled on for four or five days, but fortunately every night I had company to camp with. I also met some of my folks but it would not do for me to turn back until I had reached the hind company. When I had reached this company, according to instructions, I turned my oxen and wagon to the Captain. He divided them among the company as he saw fit. I found a chance to go home driving a team that a woman had driven all the way from the Bluffs.
On my return home nothing happened worthy of note. This part of the story should have been told before the Provo Battle.
I was now ready to obey the call but after starting I should tell you of the first payment of tithing I made. I drove one yoke of cattle to the tithing office in Salt Lake City. I told the Bishop I wanted him to receive them and give me credit, one-half for tithing and the other half to the P. E . Fund (Perpetual Emigration).
When the company was ready for settling the Little Salt Lake, I was ready to go with them. We traveled, although cold and disagreeable in the winter, until we arrived at Beaver. Nothing as yet had happened worthy of note. Here, as part of our company had ox teams and part horse teams, the horse teams were allowed to go ahead that day as far as Little Creek while the ox teams, with whom I was traveling, reached Elkhorn Springs.
After we had camped, the company ahead loaded their cannon and fired it off just in the edge of evening and their report reached us and we could also see the fire of the gun. It so frightened some of our company; we did not know what to do, but a man was found who would get on his horse and go and see what was the matter, for we supposed that the Indians had attacked them. This excitement kept up until the return of the messenger. He learned that it had been fired in celebration of New Year's Day; also in congratulation of their near arrival to their destination.
On the next day we all arrived and camped on the ground where Parowan now stands.
The Indians were somewhat hostile but by keeping strict watch and guard over our cattle and effects, we got along with them without much trouble. But this herding and standing guard had to be kept up the next year to come. I took my turn guarding and herding along with the rest of the settlers.
Our first job was to make a wagon road up the canyon and get out house logs for a large meetinghouse. The company was led by and presided over by Apostle George A. Smith. By his counsel and direction a large field was surveyed and fenced and the water was taken from the creek to irrigate it. I was employed all the time during this survey to carry the chain or the flagstaff. And when the water was gotten out on the land, I was made Captain over the water, a small stream that watered our garden lot; but was soon called to take charge of another stream which watered our ten acre lots also. Our crops were planted and reasonable harvest secured.
In the meantime the road was opened up the canyon to where large saw timbers could be had. I used to take my oxen and wagon, cut down a large tree and cut off a log twelve to fourteen feet long, which would make two hundred and fifty or three hundred feet of lumber, load it onto my wagon, and drive it back down to town where our sawmill was located, unload the log by tipping the wagon over without any other help but that of the oxen. When I look back at that time now it seems almost a mystery how it was done; but it was accomplished then without any trouble or fear of danger. In this way I got all the lumber I needed for building my house after paying the saw mill its share for sawing the logs.
Farming was my chief employment here. In the meantime I fell in love with a pretty girl named Mary Minerva Dart, and we were married November 14, 1852.
In the spring of 1851, a man by the name of John Dart came to Parowan with his family a year later one of his daughters Mary Minerva began to show preference for me above all other fellows, and as I had no housekeeper but an old widow, Obanks, I thought a good deal of Miss Mary.
Threshing time came and I was one of the hands threshing for Mr. Dart. He spoke of his going to the City soon after that work was done. I wanted to ask him if I might go with him. I planned several ways in which I might ask him for his daughter, but each time my little heart thumped so hard that I was totally unable to do so, and he went away and I had not his consent to marry his daughter.
While he was away one day while in Mary's company, we were talking about another couple who were to be married soon, and I said simply: "When shall we be married?" Not a very romantic proposal, but it served the purpose. Mary said, "Just as soon as you are ready."
This settled, we went to the Presiding Elder to get him to perform the ceremony, but he refused to do so without the consent of Mr. Dart, so we had to wait until his return from the city. We were married soon after on November 14, 1852, in the log house I had built, with a house full of friends as witnesses.
Here is the whole story as I have learned it lately:
The summer was over, my flocks were all shorn,
My fields were cut down and I have harvested my corn.
To the cottage of sweet Mary, so neatly to view,
I straightway went to courting, for I had nothing else to do.
'Twas down in the valley together we sat.
We passed away the hours in curious chat.
I told her that I loved her and hoped she'd love me too;
And we'd love one another, for I had nothing else to do
So to the next village together we roamed,
In search of the clergy, We found him at home.
I paid him his fee; he made one of us two.
We were married straightway, for we'd nothing else to do
Years have made a change since we came to this place.
Our table is too small, our cottage wanting space.
We have healthy rosy lads and lassies too;
And we loved the little rogues, for they have caused us else to do
I should tell you now about the guard we were obliged to keep up. They were organized in strictly military style. Guard was called each morning to serve twenty-four hours, three or four men were sent out early in the morning with the stock while others kept watch about camp and home affairs.
Our meeting house was the first building erected. On the top of that was a tall cupola which served as a lookout station for one or two of the guard during the day. With a good spyglass from this location could be seen any extra movement of our stock. The stock were driven home at night and placed in the corral and a guard placed over them. This was kept up for several years. I was promoted to Second Lieutenant in the military organization. I also served one term in the city council, but farming was my chief occupation.
One spring I put in twenty acres of wheat. I plowed, sowed and harrowed and marked it off for irrigation. Then about two weeks later I passed over the ground and was surprised that I could see no wheat growing; but on looking closer to the ground, I could see little grasshoppers a bout the size of a common housefly. They were eating off the wheat as fast as it appeared above the surface. This sight was all I ever got for the labor of putting in the crop. This was the condition all over the field. The next fall we had to go to the other settlements to buy our bread.
But previous to this, our eldest child was born on October 18, 1853.
PATRIARCHAL BLESSING
Parowan, Iron County, 13 January 1854.
A Blessing by Elisha H. Groves upon the head of Zadok K. Judd, Sr. son of Arza and Lucinda, born County of Leeds, Upper Canada 15 October 1828.
Brother Zadok in the name of Jesus of Nazareth by virtue of the Holy Priesthood in me vested I place my hands upon thy head to bless thee with a Patriarchial blessing or Father's blessing and I say unto thee, that thou shall be blest. Blessings of thy Heavenly Father, shall rest upon thee, and thou shall realize a fulfillment of the same agreeable to the blessings of the Patriarch and the servant of the Lord who has hitherto blest thee I confirm and seal the same upon thy head in connection with this Father's blessing with which I now bless thee for thou art of the Seed of Abraham of the loins of Joseph of the blood of Ephraim. Through the descent of thy Father thou hast a right to the gifts and blessings privileges and powers which pertain to the fulness of the House of the Lord in behalf of thy progenitors connecting the priesthood where it was broken off that there may not be a broken link in the chain. Thou art a Father in Israel, thy posterity shalt be numerous on the earth. Thou shalt not want for a son to assist thee in the redemption of thy dead. Thou shalt have houses and lands, wealth shall flow into thy hands. Thou shall receive of the rich treasures of the earth, dews of heaven the fruits of the earth shall I be given unto thee; peace shall dwell in thy habitation, thou shall become a teacher unto the Lamanites. Many of them shall be made to rejoice because of thy tuitions, the knowledge which shall be brought to them under-standingly, relative to their fathers and the covenants of the Fathers unto them in the Last days.
Thou art one of the hornes of Joseph that shall assist in pushing the people together from the ends of the earth, thou shall have power over thine enemies the powers of darkness give way before thee, thy life shall be precious in the sight of the Lord thy God. Thou shall behold the winding up scene of this generation the New Jerusalem which shall be called Zion the Temple raised upon which a cloud shall rest as a shadow by day and the glory of God as a pillar of fire by night. Thou shall receive blessings and privileges therein. Thou shall be numbered with the Hundred and forty four thousand which shall stand upon Mount Zion as saviors of men. Thou shalt receive a kingdom, dominion, power and glory eternal increase shall be with thee. Be thou therefore faithful, keeping all the commandments of the Lord thy God and these blessings shall be sure unto thee. I seal them upon thy head in the name of Jesus of Nazareth even so Amen.
Zadok Judd - born 15 October 1828, Leeds County, Upper Canada. Father- Arza Junior Judd, mother Lucinda- date of blessing - 22 January 1849 - Salt Lake City, Utah. Lineage- Ephraim. Patriarch John Smith. Recorded Historian's Office - Patriarchal Blessings- Volume 10 - page 438.
Late in the summer of 1855, my brother-in-law, Jacob L. Hamblin, came from the City. He, with a few others, had been sent to Santa Clara as Missionaries to the Indians. He was instructed to call on men to go there with their families to settle the place, a good country, warm climate and a good soil. He called on me as one to go with him. I was anxious to go. I went to the Bishop and told him the situation. He advised me not to go. He doubted the authority of Jacob Hamblin to call men to that place.
The love of a warm climate and my anxiety to go overcame the advice of the Bishop, and I consented to go.
A number were called from Cedar City and Pinto Creek to go down and build a fort. I, with the others, went and spent almost all winter in quarrying rock and building a stone wall. We enclosed a place one hundred feet square with a wall two feet thick and eight feet high, inside of which several stone houses were built. In the early spring I went back to Parowan and got my family, which consisted of wife and two children, daughter and son, and moved down there.
Before leaving Parowan, I should have described a large high wall which we built to defend ourselves against the Indians. This was eight feet high, four feet thick at the bottom, tapering up to two and one-half feet thick at the top, extending around the village, being forty rods each way, making one hundred and sixty rods of wall. The wall was built of wet dirt thrown into a box held together by wagon box rods. The first course was about eight inches of dirt well pounded, so when dried was hard like adobe, then a course of Cedar boughs was spread over the wet dirt, then another course of wet dirt pounded solid. This was continued until the box was filled about three feet deep, then the bars drawn out and the box set another length ahead and so on until the entire village was surrounded; then legs were attached to the sides of the box which raised it up to the top of the first course, then dirt and cedar boughs were put in the same as the first course and so on until the wall was completed. This work occupied about the entire season. Two gateways were left, which permitted the wagon road to pass through, as this wall enclosed our entire possessions when we were within and kept the gate shut, we felt that no Indians would bother us.
The first labor after moving my family to Santa Clara was to build a little log cabin inside the stone wall previously erected.
As this was a cotton country, we began to hunt for cotton seed. All we could find was a dozen or so which we procured from a family who had come from South Carolina. We planted them one seed in a place. We raised enough cotton to give us a sad experience of picking the seed out of the cotton. This was slow business and made our fingers sore. We were glad when the seeds were all picked out of the first crop.
We procured seed enough to plant quite a respectable cotton patch the second year. But now our Southern Neighbors came to our relief in setting out the seed. They told me how to build a little cotton gin. It was built on the same plan as our clothes wringers are built, only the rollers must not be over three-quarters of an inch in diameter. A crank attached to each roller that would turn them in opposite ways and draw the cotton through and the seed was dropped on the other side, It took two hands to run it, one to feed the cotton and turn one roller, the other to turn the other roller and pull the cotton away. By diligent labor, two hands could get about two pounds of cotton lint per day and about four pounds of seed. This method of ginning the cotton was practiced two or three seasons, but when Saint George was settled, a regular circular saw gin was introduced and run by horse power.
Cotton growing now became quite an extensive business.
Just previous to this, our place was organized into a ward, and I was ordained Bishop by Apostles George A. Smith and Amosa Lyman.
Our place was well adapted for raising fruit. I have planted peach seeds there that grew to the height of eight to ten feet the first season. The second year they would blossom and the third year bear some fruit. I have planted peach seeds and when they had grown to the height of eighteen to twenty inches, dug around them and leaving a lump of dirt around them carried them away and set out an orchard the same season as seeds were planted.
About this time our Swiss brethren moved into the place.
Water was scarce and we got the Indians to agree to let it come down from their fields to give us a sufficient amount to keep our crops growing, which did not at that time exceed twenty acres. About this time a tremendous flood came down which exceeded anything which had ever been known before. It took away about all of our houses, cut a channel about twenty feet deep and the force of the stream ran against the bank on which our stone wall was built, and digging under until piece by piece it had all fallen into the creek. It also took away our grist mill and a good many of our peach orchards.
I should also relate a circumstance which came near costing my life. The people had all moved out of the fort excepting one family. The water was running high through the back part of the fort through which we had to make our exit to higher land. This one family still remained. The wife was sick and unable to move. The water was running against the bank which was falling off piece by piece, and the water coming nearer the house in which the family lived. A few of us waded into the water to carry them out to higher ground. The water was still rising. I got one of the children on my back, a boy about five years old, to carry him out through the water which was about waist deep and running very swift. While in the midst of this current, I stumbled and almost fell down, had just power enough to raise myself and get onto my feet again, the boy still on my back. The entire family was finally brought out safely and placed on higher ground.
Jacob Hamblin, while standing on the edge of the bank, viewing the remainder of the fort walls, was carried down by a piece of the bank on which he stood falling into the water. But he immediately called for help and rope was brought and thrown to his assistance and he was brought safely up to the bank so no life was lost, but much property destroyed.
Many of our large peach trees were dropped into the channels and by the bank falling away on which they stood, and carried off down stream. Some of them were afterwards recovered and brought back and reset and afterwards bore fruit.
The next season after the flood, the Swiss brethren came and settled on the bottoms in a bend of the creek a few hundred yards below where we had settled. This bottom had been part of our farming land. It was now divided up into city lots and small parcels and given to the Swiss and we all lived there together . On our lot I built myself an adobe house and moved my family into it. We occupied this location about two years and raised considerable sugar cane and cotton.
About this time Saint George was settled, and the legislature had given the people the entire control of the water that ran down the channel and we were obliged to turn the water down to them at times, the same as the Indians had done for us in previous years. The water was very scarce and much of our crop perished.
The State Legislature had given the Saint George authorities the whole control of the stream from the head to the mouth. They permitted settlers to locate on any bend of the creek where they could find land enough to make it pay, and in Pine Valley, the head of the stream where the County Commissioners had allowed only a half acre to each family, there was now cultivated about two hundred acres of land. It seems that irrigating the land at the head and along near the creek caused springs to break out and flow into the creek channel and made sufficient water for about three hundred acres of land, where before we could not get enough for twenty acres.
I should have told you of strange sights which we used to see previous to the coming of the flood, While passing through our gardens and farming land, it was common to see large squashes growing ten or fifteen feet up in the tree A hill of squashes had been planted fifteen or twenty feet from the tree; the vine would grow to the tree and then climb by wrapping its tendrils around the branches, In this way the vine climbed up the tree and bore squashes anywhere along, This reminds one of a man lying down under a walnut tree and wondering why pumpkins did not grow in trees. Just then a walnut fell and hit him on the head, He then remarked, "Oh, I see now why squashes are better to grow on the ground than above one's head. " Those large squashes never fell on our heads as we passed under them. They were firmly attached to the vine and tree.
Many of the settlers of Saint George were from Salt Lake and brought orders from the general Tithing Office, which consumes all of our tithing and which was not enough to meet the demand.
Jacob Hamblin and others of the Indian missionaries, I among the rest went to visit the Moquis country to visit the inhabitants. Although I was suffering with the fever and ague, I was able to travel and while I was absent Edward Bunker was called to take my place as Bishop of the Santa Clara Ward, and with my wife's consent had moved into my house with his family and was living there when I returned from the Moquis country.
In turning over the tithing affairs to him, I was enabled to meet all demands and come out free of debt.
My farming land was nearly all washed away and I concluded that I would sell out the remainder and move out West to a place near the Pioche country.
Here I settled in a place called Eagle Valley, opened and fenced a farm and raised two or three good crops. We sold our products to the miners of Pioche.
I had built a house and set out an orchard and was doing fairly well. My oldest daughter, Lucinda, now had an offer of marriage by Charles H. Oliphant. They went to Salt Lake City and were sealed in the Endowment House.
I should have previously told you about the births of our children while at Santa Clara. All of them that were born there died in infancy through the hard work of the mother and sickly condition of the climate. Two were buried there and one at Eagle Valley.
Before leaving Parowan, we bought an Indian boy who lived with us several years. We called him Lamoni. He died and was buried in Eagle Valley. While at Santa Clara, we bought a girl of the Indians, whom we called Matilda. She lived with us several years; was very useful and handy with her work, and learned our language.
It was decided through the State lines that had been drawn that Eagle Valley was in Nevada. Our taxes were very high and we were advised to move. Accordingly I sold my possessions and moved and finally settled in Kanab in the Spring of 1870.
Our first duty after landing in Kanab was to get the water onto our farming land and city lots, which we did although it was very scarce and our first crop was very limited on account of the lack of water.
Later in the season before we had made a shelter or got out of our wagon, we were visited by a party of about thirty Navajo Indians. They seemed very hostile, making heavy demands upon us for provisions, of which we had a very small supply. They were tinkering with their bows and arrows and making preparations to enforce their demands. Jacob Hamblin and a few others gathered around our camp. Some of them said, "What shall we do?" My wife replied, "Let's give them their breakfast." Jacob Hamblin remarked, "That's a very sensible idea. Will you feed a few of them ? " "Yes , I can feed four or five. "Jacob Hamblin then went out among the crowd and brought four or five to our camp. My wife made a pot of mush, roasted a few ears of corn and soon gave them breakfast.
While these were breakfasting, Jacob Hamblin went out among the crowd and scattered them around, taking a few to each camp, until all were provided for. This seemed to satisfy them, and after trading a little with us, they went off and left us. Thus a peaceful policy avoided trouble.
I always had an idea that children had rights that should be respected. I remember of one Sunday going to meeting with all of my boys. The meeting was held in a stone house, from the window of which could be seen the fields below. Meeting had just commenced when it was observed that the cattle were breaking through the fence and going into the field. One brother came to me and asked me to send my boys down to drive out the cattle and put up the fence. I nodded my head in consent, but instead of speaking to my boys I picked up my hat and went myself and drove out the cattle and put up the fence, considering that the meeting would do the boys more good than missing it would do me harm.
During the many years of our stay here, we have had to work much of our time on the ditch. I remember on one occasion while making a ditch along under a high sand bank, it was necessary to throw the bank down and make the ditch farther into it. I had shoveled under the bank for a distance of a few steps down the ditch. I had dug as far under the bank as was convenient for me to dig with the shovel. I had straightened myself up to look a round and saw my moccasins two or three steps from me. Something seemed to say to me, "Better move the moccasins or they will be covered with dirt.
I had no sooner picked them up than down the bank tumbled great lumps of dirt several hundred pounds in weight and heaviest of it right where I had been standing when I straightened up to rest. Had I not started to pick up my moccasins, I should have been crushed to death. That verifying the saying of the Patriarch, Joseph Smith, Senior, when he gave me my first blessing that "Angels had charge to watch over me continually."
Thus we have labored hard to control the water from year to year. After a few year's residence here it was decided to build a Temple in the Saint George country. Our settlement was called upon to assist. I, with four or five other teams, took loads of grain from Long Valley down to feed their teams while they hauled rock with which to build the Temple. Later on I sent my team of four horses with a boy to haul lumber from Mount Trumbull for building the Temple. He spent a month or six weeks at that work.
About this time the United Order was talked of and an organization was effected. Each man that joined the Order was required to pay in all of his property. It was valued and he was credited with the amount. It ( the Order) was generally acknowledged and accepted by all the people here. I turned in all the property I had and worked under the direction of those who had been appointed to take charge. I worked in one place and my boys in another, as we were directed.
At one time I was asked if I did not want to take charge of a flock of sheep, as I had plenty of boys to do the herding. My reply was that I would do so if I was called upon, but I would rather work for a dollar a day than a dollar and a half credit at sheep herding. So they found someone else to take the sheep herd.
I was given charge of a number of boys to cultivate the city lots and raise beans for the Order. We raised, and gathered, about forty-two bushels. During the second year of the Order a number of the people became dissatisfied. It was said that there was only five cents difference between the man that worked and the man that idled, and the man that idled generally had the five cents, for he was always at home and knew when anything was brought into the treasury and would call for the first and the best.
I have omitted saying anything about building a house here. The first season after our arrival we commenced building a house. I dug the cellar and hauled the rock to side it up and acted like a stone mason laying up a good wall.
We had previously hauled lumber from Santamph saw mill. We placed the sleepers across the cellar and the flooring on that for shelter. In this we lived until we made adobe and laid up the walls for the house. We put on a board roof. I thought this was the most windy place I had ever lived in, for I found it necessary to tie a rope over the roof with heavy weights on the ends to hold it on. We finally made a shingle roof and built adobes onto the frame work to make it more solid. After years of waiting our fruit and shade trees grew up and made a fine windbreak.
Well, let us now return and tell of the working of the United Order. A meeting was called to discuss the subject of continuing or breaking up the United Order.
The majority seemed in favor of discontinuing. A meeting of the board of directors was called, of which board I was at the time a member. The matter was discussed at some length and a plan was formed to divide the property on hand and pay off each individual according to the credit which he had received. This was the end of the United Order. The books which had been used for keeping the minutes and credits and debts of each individual were left with me and I have appropriated to my use a few blank pages in the ledger on which to write this story.
We will now go back to Temple working. As the temple was near completion, I began to think about what work there was for me to do in it, as all my people that I knew anything about had joined the Church and I was the youngest of my father's family. Older ones, of course, had the precedence. My older brother was about moving off to Mexico, but before starting called on me to look around to see if I could find any record of the Judd family.
I accordingly wrote to Thomas Judd, my father's cousin, asking him for in formation concerning our ancestors, but he could not give me any. But this reply did not satisfy me, so I wrote to Orange Judd, the editor of the American Agriculture, and he kindly and promptly replied that he had had a number of books containing the genealogy of the Judd family; that he had sold all but one and for that one would not take its weight in gold. I immediately wrote this information to Thomas Judd. His reply was that his son had been on a mission and while at a certain place, someone told him if he would wait a few days, he would bring him a book containing a genealogy of the Judd family, but his missionary services would not permit him to wait. My father's cousin told me he would write to this place to see what he could learn. In the process of time two books were sent him by mail. After perusing this book a little, he learned that his father and my grandfather's names were both included in the book. The book containing something over three thousand names and dated back to 1630, when the first Judd came from England. One of these books was immediately sent to me, and it has been my delight ever since to select names from it and do temple work for them. I have also sent money at different times to the amount of ten or fifteen dollars, or the amount I thought I could spare, to induce temple workers to assist me in this labor. At one time I sent nearly one hundred dollars to Saint George Temple to get assistance to do this kind of work. All this money was spent with economy to assist me in my labor.
I have been through the book to get all the names that were (in 1884 eligible for work at that date, which I did. At one time I had occasion to visit my cousin, Margaret Clawson, Salt Lake City, as she had one of the books (given to her father, Thomas Judd), and I had the other. While there we agreed to divide the book, each one having an equal number of pages, she doing the fore part of the book and I the latter part.
I have omitted to relate an important event that happened in 1892. My house was burned down, which left us without shelter except the shade trees and wagon cover, but by diligence and a little kindness and help by some of our neighbors, we were conveniently sheltered and housed in before cold weather came, but it took me all the next season to make the repairs complete.
The water in the creek had caused us a great deal of trouble to control . For many years the water had been very scarce, and occasionally floods would come down and fill up our ditches and they would have to be cleaned out before we could get water again. In the meantime a deep channel had been cut which we thought sufficient to hold all the flood water that would come, but there come an excessively heavy flood, which gouged under the bank and caused portions of it to fall in. Sometimes pieces of earth containing trees or shrubs would fall into the water and float down right side up. All this sand and rubbish was left on our farming land. I had just harvested a few acres of wheat and shocked it up. These shocks of wheat were not carried away, but sand and mud to the depth of fourteen inches was left around them, which caused considerable loss of wheat.
We now concluded to go up the canyon four or five miles where the water had not cut down so deep. From this point we made a ditch down to town. After using this ditch a while, the frequent breaks in it and the lack of water to keep it wet caused us to conclude to build a dam nearer town. This dam was to be one hundred feet long across the gulch and would have to be raised about forty feet high. This would shorten our ditch and give us a great deal more water. After we had built the dam and raised the water twenty-five or thirty feet high, we undertook to build an outlet for the water. This proved a failure and the water got beyond our control and the longer the water ran, the longer the gap become, until it reached the entire bottom and all the water ran away from us, causing a flood down to Fredonia, which carried away many of the washtubs and water barrels.
Although many felt very much discouraged, all this work had to be done over again. We now undertook to build it on a different plan, making a spill for the water to run through before we undertook to repair the dam. In order to make an outlet for the water, we had to blast and drill through solid rock about eight feet deep and about twenty feet wide. In this place we built a secure head gate which could be raised or lowered at will.
As I am now somewhat past eighty years of age, which is now about the time of my telling this story, I may have forgotten several little incidents and it may be well to turn back and rehearse one.
In my service in the Battalion across the country, I would sometimes chide my companions for drinking coffee. As coffee was part of the rations which the Government furnished and my companions generally used it freely, but it was distasteful to me and it was breaking the Word of Wisdom to a certain extent, and I occasionally mentioned it to my messmates; but they invariably excused themselves by saying that the water was so bad and unhealthy, they must put a little coffee in it. I would tell them that the more coffee put into it, the worse it made it. I suppose I became in their estimation a sort of crank, so when we got through into California, they thought to pay me off for my insolence.
One day my companions proposed a walk down through the town of Los Angeles. The first saloon we came to, we all stopped and they proposed that I take a glass of wine, and we all drank together, after which we went on to the next saloon. Here it was proposed that we have a glass of whiskey all around. This I accepted also, taking their advice, I drank with them. The next place we came to, a glass of brandy was called for, and we all drank again. About the time this was down my head began to feel very light; they could tell my condition by the rattle of my tongue and it was proposed that we return to camp.
On our way back we had a creek to cross and a plank was laid over it for a foot bridge. About this time the liquor I had drunk began to affect me strongly and as I walked onto the plank to cross the creek I stepped off to one side into the water but kept my upright position and walked on straight thru the water. By the time we got to camp, my tongue seemed to be loose at both ends and I talked incessantly. My messmates had now accomplished their object in getting me drunk for chiding them for using coffee. My fellow soldiers from other tents gathered around our tent to hear me talk.
I told them they needn't come around here to pry into our family secrets, it was none of their business. But by nightfall the strength of the liquor had worked off and I had a comfortable night's rest. I hope my young friends may take the warning by this and never be led to do that which they know to be wrong. This is the first and last time I was ever overcome with liquor and I hope I shall be forgiven. Another little incident on the next page.
Now to conclude my story. Myself and my posterity are here located in Kanab. They are all well acquainted with our surroundings as I am, and it seems idle for me to ask others to write these things which are so generally known.
My life is yet spared and I may live yet many years. If I do, I hope my time will be spent in usefulness. I hope all my posterity will avoid being idle. Seek to learn the works of God and practice righteousness and instruct others to carry out the Great Plan of Salvation and spend your days in usefulness and your days will be full of joy and happiness.
The M. C. Story may be of interest to some. While the Battalion was lying at Santa Fe, I purchased a buffalo robe to increase my stock of bedding, and thinking it would be easier to carry as a coat than as a blanket, I had a coat cut from it. I , being tailor enough to sew it up, I did so with the fur side out. This I wore occasionally along the road. One day we passed a number of herds of mules, horses and donkeys. One donkey pricked up his ears and ran along by our side and a few rods ahead of us crossed the road. One of the boys of Welsh descent seemed much surprised and remarked, "Well, well, I thought it was little Judd with his buffalo coat on, however." This word "however" is used by the Welsh at the end of many sentences.
Finis for the present.
Zadok Knapp Judd died 28 January 1909 at Kanab.
Mary Minerva Dart Judd died 6 August 1909.
The following information was taken from Kanab Town' Kane County and Kanab Pipeline Records, also incidents related to me by Ami Judd and Gertrude Judd Cottam
13 March 1884 - the Kanab Town Council’s appointed Z. K. Judd, Senior Treasurer of the Town Corporation.
26 December 1885 - Z. K. Judd was appointed as Prosecuting Attorney for Kanab Town.
7 December 1886 - Z. K. Judd, Senior was allowed $38 for Coroner Duty and burying bodies found on Buckskin Mountain, by Kane County Commission The following incident relating to the above mentioned Coroner Duty was related to me by Ami Judd
Zadok Judd, my father had the contract to carry the mail from Johnson, Utah to Lee's Ferry, Arizona on the Colorado River for twelve years. The contract was let for four years at a time. During the winter father sublet the contract but was still able to secure a little cash from it. In the summer his boys carried the mail making three trips a week. On the last day we would ride from Johnson to the top of Buckskin Mountain (Kaibab) and someone from the Ferry would meet us there. In this way we could both go back home in the same day.
It was while I was carrying the mail that I met a party neat House Rock, an old woman, an old man and a girl were riding in a wagon, a white man and a Negro were riding horseback. On my return trip, I met with Sixtus Johnson out on Johnson Run and as we traveled along we met the same party. However now there were but the white man, the Negro and the girl. The Negro was driving the team and one mare was doing a lot of ' whinnering' and trying to turn back. The white man and the girl were riding the horses. We stopped and talked to them. They said the mare had foaled and they had killed the foal because they did not think it could keep up. We thought this strange because they could have hauled the colt.
When the party reached Kanab they were remembered because the people did not like the idea of a Negro along with the girl. Not long after this some travelers coming from Lees' Ferry over the Buckskin Mountain saw a human hand and long black hair sticking out of the ground at a camp site. Digging the dirt away they uncovered the bodies of an old man and woman. The coyotes had been digging there and that is how the hand was uncovered. The party hurried on to Kanab to report their findings. A group of men was organized to investigate. Zadok Knapp Judd, Senior was appointed Justice of the Peace for the County at the Coroner's Inquest.
The three people were apprehended in Ogden, Utah and were tried in Prescott, Arizona. It came out in the trial that the old man and woman had adopted the girl and the white man and the girl were lovers. The old folks kept their money in gold coin in an iron pot. Each night they would leave camp and would go into the darkness and bury the pot of gold.
The Negro and white man were convicted of murder and imprisoned. The girl was allowed to go free. It is said that years later she came back over the trail hunting the pot of gold.
15 March 1887 - Z. K. Judd was appointed Sexton of the Town Cemetery (This is the cemetery which was located north of Kanab at the time.)
23 November 1893 to March 1897 the Kanab Town Attorney John F. Brown was dealing with Z. K. Judd on sale of land for a new cemetery. The deed for this land is recorded in the Kane County Courthouse and the price was listed at $45 for ten acres. Z. K. Judd had previously obtained this land on an eighty-acre tract on a Desert Entry.
7 January 1899 the Kanab Pipeline Company was incorporated. Among the original stockholders was Z. K. Judd Sr., Z. K. Judd Jr., and H . E. Judd. One-fourth share of irrigation water was to be used for the pipeline water which ran into settling ponds, then into a town cistern and from here into pipes in the town. Only a few homes could have this service because it was a flow line.
Gertrude Judd Cottam relates the following
"Father kept bees. The honey and bees wax were sold in the town and also furnished our table with sweets along with the molasses he had made from the sugar cane he raised in the fields.
Mother made peach preserves with the honey and also pickled grapes and placed them in kegs and barrels which father had made. He was a cooper or barrel maker and made his own barrels and kegs which ranged in size from five to fifty gallon sizes. These were the only containers we had at that time; all of our fruit, honey and molasses and grape wine went into them. We scarcely knew what sugar was and all of our cooking was done with honey and molasses.
We had three city lots in Kanab, the lower two were planted to white grapes. These lots were later given to their sons Knapp and Eli . The lot where our home stood was planted to black and white grapes. Each fall father made many of these grapes into wine. We also dried some. He would load his wagon with grapes, wine, peach preserves, honey, bees wax, molasses and dried fruits and travel to the northern settlements as far as Panguitch trading for anything except grapes. He received some cash, flour, dried meat, grains, etc."
From Ami Judd: "Some of the grapes were made into wine and sold here in town. The people would bring their own containers. I have seen as many as ten forty-gallon barrels of wine in our cellar at one time and I never did see any drunkard in the family. Mama always had control.
From various journals and papers : -
"Z. K. Judd Sr. was a very willing worker in both city and church. His white horses and carriage gathered people and carried them to the polls to vote each Election Day. "
"Z.K. Judd Sr. was always the Mormon Battalion representative in the 24th of July programs. He rode a horse and carried his banner bearing the inscription of a " Ram in a Thicket."
"Z. K. Judd Sr. - late Private Company E. Mormon Battalion, Iowa Volunteers received a pension of $20 per month. "
"28 January 1909 - Brother Zadok Knapp Judd, Senior, passed away this afternoon about two-thirty P.M. at his home in Kanab. The funeral was held on the Thirtieth. His four sons, Zadok Knapp, Henry Eli, Asa Walter, and Samuel Ami and two grandsons carried the coffin. The first hymn sung was on page 101 or page 72 (old song book). Brother Judd dreamed that this song was sung at his funeral. He was buried at Kanab Town Cemetery in the ground he had previously sold to the town for this purpose. You will find Zadok Knapp Judd, Senior's name on the Mormon Battalion Monuments at the Utah State Capitol grounds in Salt Lake City and in Los Angeles."
"Against the sagging side of weather-beaten shed,
an old plow leans in testimony of furrows that have led,
in the building of a nation, to a better way of life
as harvests from the new turned sod eased human woe and strife.
Symbolic of man's home and faith, as it plowed from sea to sea,
wherever America's soil was tilled - - an implement of the free ."
A Biographical Sketch of the Life
of Mary Minerva Dart:
I took it from my Judd book I put together. - Jeanne Oliphant Guymon
My father, John Dart, was born about the year 1810. My mother, Lucy Ann Roberts, was born November 7th, 1814. They were married at Monroe, Connecticut, November 24th, 1831. My father was the son of William and grandson of Joseph Dart. My grandmother's maiden name was Lidy Ann Sharpe. Two daughters were born to my parents in the state of Connecticut, Phebe Maria and Lucy Edna. They moved to the state of New York where four children were added to their family, Harriet Paulina, Mary Minerva, John Henry Harrison and George William. I was the fourth child and was born in the town of Groton, Tomkins County, state of New York, March 31st, 1838.
I still retain some pleasant memories of my childhood. Our house was a comfortable one and my father followed merchandising in a store near by. A small brook murmured along between the house and the store. On its banks, my sister Harriet and I used to play. One day, as our father came from the store to his dinner, the condition of our clothes indicated that we had been playing in the water. The punishment he inflicted was at least novel. He hung us up by our clothing on the picket fence to dry remarking that was the way wet clothes were dried. He left us hanging on the fence until he had eaten his dinner, Although the punishment was novel, it was not severe. My sister cried but I thought it was alright; it effectually cured us from playing in the brook.
On a bridge, which spanned the brook, I sat down one sunny day and went to sleep; but for my father, the world would probably from that time have gone on without me. As I was rolling off into the water, as the fates would have it, my father was coming from the store and he ran and got me out of the water before I was much damaged.
In a neat schoolhouse on top of a neighboring hill, I acquired the rudiments of an education. One day as a young man who lived near the schoolhouse, by way of teasing me, threatened .to grease me and put me in my pocket, at the same time complimenting me on my ruddy appearance. This trifling occurrence so frightened me that I did not like to go up the hill to school again for some time.
About this time serious misfortune began to overtake the family. My father was helplessly sick. During his illness, his partner in business, Mr. Sherman, persuaded him to sign an obligation to pay the debts of the concern, after which he left the country between two days. When my father arose from his bed of sickness, he found himself stripped of all his possessions and his family homeless. His physician advised him to go to the seashore for his health. In accordance with this advice my father moved to the seaport town of Bridgeport, Connecticut. It was divided by a considerable river into East and West Bridge-port. My father rented a bridge over the stream of a Mr. Bruce. It was constructed so that a part of it could be raised to let the boats pass. It was a large drawbridge for ships to pass through. Watching this operation afforded me considerable amusement. We lived in a house in the center of this bridge for one year. The fear that some of her children might fall into this river and drown, occasioned my mother considerable anxiety.
Grandfather Dart made us a visit one Sabbath morning while we were washing preparatory to going to church, my sister Harriet's dress fell through the bridge into the roaring river. As Grandfather was looking over the railing, he saw it and supposing it was one of us, was in a boat and after it before mother was aware of what was going on. He was quite astonished and very thankful when he found it was only a dress instead of a dress with a child in it.
I think this event occurred in 1843. My Uncle Levi Dart lived near us. Not far from the bridge were two or three railroad tracks. Near them lived Charley Stratton, a dwarf; afterwards the somewhat celebrated "Tom Thumb." One day my father saw him crossing one of these tracks as a train was rapidly approaching, he stumbled and fell and my father dragged him out of the way, apparently just in time to save his life.
My father bought a house between Bridgeport and Stratford where he moved the following Spring. Here we lived until 1849. Our nearest neighbors were Mr. Lewis and a Spanish gentleman by the name of Ceverea. The latter had a family and quite a number of servants to carry on his farm and do the work of his family. He had a beautiful home and wandering over his well laid out grounds served to improve my ideas.
A young Irish gentleman and his wife rented a part of our house. I think their names were James and Mary Moore. They boarded with us two or three years and until neighboring farms were cut up by railroads which run between Stratford and Bridgeport. The land between the railroad and wagon road was surveyed into town lots and a neat little village sprang up. Of this our tenants became a citizen. Among the pleasant recollections of these childhood days are these neat village homes and the groves of chestnut and walnut trees with which the surrounding country abounded.
In the golden autumn days we gathered and stored up an abundance of these delicious nuts to furnish innocent recreation during the long winter evenings. Each season of the year brought its rural labors lightened by the many harmless pleasures with which they were intermingled. In the early springtime, we went singing through the woods, mingling our childish voices with the notes of the myriad of feathered songsters that chirped and twittered among the green foliage. We plucked and strewed the early flowers along our path, fit emblems of our blooming childhood. As spring was verging into Summer, we gathered the luscious scarlet strawberries from the green meadows. Other summer fruits came in succession each with their peculiar relish. We were ever anticipating and ever realizing new gratifications. Until the autumn brought around its delightful feasts of wild grapes and the hilarious swinging on the enormous vines which stretched from tree to tree.
The season of seed time and harvest would again close with storing up our winters supply of nuts.
Those were merry days when Father and Mother, brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts and cousins visited together, and we used to play at soldiers in the old Kitchen, with its ample fireplace and crackling log fire; while those of mature years were quietly enjoying themselves in that place especially reserved in the olden time for the entertainment of visitors, in “the front room." How very slow the days would pass away as the time drew near for the usual visit to Grandfathers and Grandmother's. Not forgetting our great grandfather and great grand- mother who appeared so very ancient to us, that we would use to wonder if we would ever be so very old like them. Our Aunt Katy French came in for a large share of love and reverence. She had never married, but had always lived at home with her mother, our Great Grandmother French, whose husband Great Grandfather French had died when quite young-about forty years old. There in the old farmhouse, on the hill, mother and daughter were still living when we-that is father, brothers and sisters, and myself visited them and assisted to gather in the apples from the old orchard in the autumn of 1848.
I appear to have been somewhat of a favorite. The last time I visited them was with a cousin about my own age. I well remember Aunt Katy on the bed in the front bedroom with a severe headache. While the tall stately mother, so old she had lost her sight and it had come back to her again, was in the kitchen with a broom in her hand. She gave to each of us a piece of pie. As in sport we left the house and ran down the hill. There we met a flock of geese belonging to Grandfather Roberts. As we approached, the old ganders spread their wings and made such a fuss that we were frightened almost out of our wits. A little farther on, we met Grandfather Roberts who assured us that they would not hurt us. He took us into his shop and explained to us how the feathers were plucked from the geese to make the feather beds on which we slept. We spent a week with these old people, and returned home. The following winter, my mother's brother, Sidney Roberts, came from the state of Illinois to visit his relatives. Before he came to us he had been to see his parents, John Benedict and Phebe Roberts, also his grandmother, Mrs. Esther Beardsley French. Perhaps there is no better place than this to insert some statements taken from this Uncle's history. The following was given to me verbally by my Grandmother Esther French.
My father's Great Grandfather French, came from England. He had five sons; Samuel Geromny, John, Jonathon, Thomas and Joseph. He had three daughters; Sarah, Betsey, Sophia or Phebe.
Joseph French and his wife, Charity, had eight children: five sons; James, Gideon, Abner, Ebinezer and Silas. Three daughters; Eunice, Mary and Phebe.
My grandfather, Abner French, married Esther Bradly or Beardsley. They had seven children: two sons; Eli and Samuel; five daughters; Phebe, Lucy, Sally, Eliza and Catherine.
The Roberts Family, (the first Mr. Roberts) were Scotch-English, and came from England. Great grandfather Luke Roberts had three sons, John Benedict Roberts, David or Daniel, and Luke Roberts, Jr. They had one daughter, Polly, who married a Mr. Stevens. Some Roberts were found in the history of Gouourum, Massachusetts. Except Wesley and Hosea Roberts who were brothers: the rest were cousins. Fenno Roberts and his wife, Temperance Hardin Roberts, Joshua Roberts, Thomas Roberts, Samuel Roberts, Betsy Roberts, David Hardin, Charles Hardin and Emeline Hardin.
The following is from the family record of John Benedict Roberts. My grandfather, John Benedict Roberts was born in Danbury, Connecticut, June 3, 1772. Died in Monroe, Connecticut, October 23, 1850, aged 68 years, 7 months and 20 days. His wife, Phebe French was born in Danbury (afterwards changed to Monroe) March 2, 1785. Died in Mc- Lean, State of New York, April 14, 1857, aged 72 years and 1 month.
They had 12 children, Vis-Permilia, born May 11, 1803 married to James Foot July 1826. He had no children; died at Groton, New York 1883. Edna, born February, 1805, died May 18, 1826, aged 21 years and 3 months. Marcus, born August 15, 1807; married Deliah Booth, December 24, 1829. Died in Ohio or some other western state. He had children by his second wife, a widow who had 6 children: Sidney, born August 28, 1809. Married Sarah Ann Rowell, May 12, 1830. They moved to Nauvoo, Illinois, thence to Utah. He died in Kenosha, Millard County, where his widow, children and grandchildren now reside. (1887) Julius, born October 16, 1812, married Polly Ann Farnum March 11, 1832, in Monroe, Conn. They had 9 children. My mother, Lucy Ann Roberts born November 7, 1814, married John Dart, November 24, 1831; died July 6th, 1850 near Fort Laramie on the Platte River. They had 9 children. Gabriel, born February 8th, 1816. Married Mary Ann Stiles in 1881, was in Macon, Georgia in 1883, They had 2 children. He died in Macon Georgia.
Paulina, born August 23, 1818. Married David Towsey, April 17, 1836. They had 9 children.
John, born November 23, 1820. Died June 4, 1821.
Harriet, born March 10, 1822, married Andrew K. Fortner, at McLean, New York, March 5, 1858. Died August 29, 1871.
Juliett, born August 5, 1825, died April 5, 1827.
Emma, born February 12, 1828, married William Serine, December 21, 1845. Is dead. He had 2 children.
The above listed Roberts family were all born in Monroe, state of Connecticut. (George Serrine lives in Greenville, Carolina.)
After moving out of Bridgeport to live, we still attended school in East Bridgeport. Near the schoolhouse was a shipyard. This myself and companions used to visit and watch the building of ships. We saw one launched. The deck was covered with people. The workmen knocked out the stays that held the ship on the stocks. At first it moved slowly, but gaining headway as it descended toward the water, it seemed as though it must plunge under and be filled; but it shot off on the water like a duck.
I suppose that the sensations of those on the deck must have been delightfully exciting, for they shouted and swung their hats and handkerchiefs with unmistakable energy. These scenes were a pleasing variety in the lives of the school children. There was another shipyard in Bridgeport, which I often visited, as the father of one of my school companions worked there at repairing ships. Near it was a well of cool, delicious water which was patronized by both workmen and school children. Not far from the school house, and when the water in high tide almost reached it, stood a somewhat dilapidated stone house. It was untenanted and had about it an air of weird loneliness. Large stone steps went down near this house to the waters' edge. Aged trees shadowed its old porch and added to the sense of shadowy mysteriousness which is still retained in my memory of the old house. Of course it was haunted. It would have detracted one half of the interest connected with it had it not been haunted. Possibly the cause was purely imaginary, or, perhaps the wind sometimes brought a limb of one of the aged trees in contact with the rough stone walls, producing sounds, which, in the shadowy surroundings, seemed like the wail of some uneasy spirit.
There was a swing in one of the trees where we used to while away the time before the school hour in the long summer mornings. My uncle, Lucius Dart's widow, with her two sons, lived in the neighborhood. We occasionally visited them. One of my little cousins had a mania for going to school, that he would sometimes start for the schoolhouse before he was dressed or had eaten his breakfast. Time brought its changes in these surroundings of my childhood. My uncle's widow married again, and the family moved away. I never saw them again. I heard that one of her sons cut his foot and bled to death. The day that he died I was out of doors near the house I thought I heard someone say, "Oh! I'm lost, Oh, I'm lost forever," and repeat the exclamation the third time. I called my mother and told her what I had heard. She thought it might be some of the children. She hunted them and found them alright. Whether this singular mind impression had any connections with the death of my cousin, is not within my comprehension. About this time an uncle by the name of William Serrine, his wife Emma and their children came to visit us. It was soon after the commencement of the war between the United States and Mexico and a martial spirit stirred up the people. The drilling of infantry and cavalry companies furnished a vent for this martial enthusiasm and quite an exciting amusement for us children. Recruits were being organized and fitted for service. My uncle William was a Captain and a fine looking military man. After the musters were over he and his family returned home. I have not seen them since. On a warm summer day, a cavalry regiment of young men halted at our well to indulge in a drink of cold water. They made a fine appearance as they started on to the scene of war. They were then enjoying some of the romance of soldiers life. The stern realities were to come. My mother said they were going far away and some might return, but not all.
My uncle, Levi Dart, commenced to build a new house on what was known as the Point, at East Bridgeport. My father assisted with his team to haul the material together. It was near Captain Cook's Grist mill and here we could see it on our way to school. But before it was finished great changes were to take place in our lives. As I have before said, my Uncle Sidney Roberts had come from State of Illinois to visit his relations. He had heard the Elders of the Latter Day Saints preach, had received their doctrines, and had been preaching them among his relatives. Many had received them and were preparing to gather with that people, to what was then considered the "Far West." My father also concluded to accompany Uncle Sidney. This took me out of the groove in which my childhood had been running, and introduced me to a new chain of experiences.
Our Uncle, Julius Roberts, with his wife and my cousins, Charles and David Roberts; my grandfather and grandmother Roberts; my Uncle David Towsey, and Aunt Paulina, with their two girls, Sabina and Mary Gertrude, made us a last visit. The pleasures of associating of us children and young folks were intensified by the thought that we might never see each other again. Now, after many years with their sad experiences and intermingling joys have passed away, these reminiscences of childhood and youth appear like a verdant spot variegated with the sweetest of flowers on the other side of a comparative desert of withered anticipation and blighted hopes. The day before we started on our journey to the "Far West," our Uncle Levi Dart, with cousins Lydia, Mary Jane, Nancy and Leve came to visit us.
We put our baggage into the wagon and after being up most of the night, that we might get an early start in the morning, we bid our friends good-bye and started for the Bridgeport dock. We were soon on the steamer and starting out into the bay for the city of New York. There accompanied us a Mr. Peck and family and four gentlemen for California, namely Messrs. Sperry, Gerard, Story and Wm. Hubbel. This made up quite a company of acquaintances. This event occurred in April, 1849. As we went into the cabin, I was quite surprised to see a large company, apparently coming to meet us. My astonishment may be imagined on finding that I was deceived by the reflection of our own persons in a large mirror which reached from floor to ceiling. There were three colored waiters who could hardly contain themselves when they saw how ashamed I looked on discovering my mistake.
We arrived in New York about 5 o'clock p. m. and were taken in a carryall to a hotel for the night. Seeing a jet of water continually thrown high in the air and coming down in spray furnished me with some new ideas of the beautiful in connection with that element. The rooms assigned us were up several pairs of stairs. Before reaching them my mother fainted. We were all very tired and sleepy and soon occupied our beds. In the night I awoke and smelled something burning. Awakening my father I told him there was something on fire. We got up and found some of our clothes which were laying on the table burning. This was where our traveling companions had placed their guns as they were some 6 or 5 men bound for the gold regions of California. As my father put out the fire he remarked that we had been almost miraculously preserved from burning to death.
The following morning we crossed into the state of New Jersey by a steam ferry. There we took the railroad to Philadelphia. On arriving there quite a large company of us lodged in a large hall for the night. The next stopping place, as I now remember, was Cincinnati. The steamer on which we had embarked on the Ohio River called there to take on passengers. I went on shore with other young people to walk about some of the city. I saw many novelties. One was bacon piled up until it reminded me of the stone walls in Connecticut. In due time we arrived in St. Louis, Missouri. There we engaged passage on another steamer, the Highland Mary, for St. Joseph on the Missouri River. On the way up the boat we were on ran a race with another boat, which seemed very reckless and dangerous. Our traveling companions from Conn. did not go to our destination but got off at some intermediate outfitting point. The evening before leaving Mr. Gerard sang, "Home, Sweet Home," and "My Yankee Molley." We parted with Mr. Peck and family. Traveling together induces sociability and friendship and we parted with these travel-companions with some regret not expecting to meet again in this changing world. An old gentleman, whose berth was next to ours was stricken with cholera and died in about a day. My father assisted in preparing him for the funeral. There was a young man with him by the name of Alonzo Nichols. Two young men came aboard. One of them was stricken with the cholera and my sister Phebe helped to watch with him and administer to his wants. He looked as though death had laid hold of him. The two landed in the night and we heard no more of them. Arriving at St. Joseph my father rented a house of Mr. John Cazaire about a half mile from the landing.
The cholera took off many people around us. The dead were often buried in the night. A stone house near the landing was burned to the ground while we were there. A young man belonging to a company on their way to California was apparently mortally wounded by the accidental discharge of a revolver which he was examining. He had his mother and sister with him. As we left there about the same time we never learned the result. It was, even then, a day of accident, pestilence and death.
My father hired a Mr. Coratate to take us to Council Bluffs in a wagon. My sister Phebe had an attack of the cholera before leaving St. Joseph and, for that reason, we were compelled to travel slow. Traveling in a wagon and camping by the way was a new life to us. It proved to be the beginning of an extended experience in that direction. There was a very appreciable difference between traveling on railroads and river steamers and jogging along over the western prairies with an ox team, at the rate of a mile and a half an hour. Still it had its advantages. It was an economical and safe way of traveling. There was no boiler to burst and send a score or two into the next world and danger of a smash-up by collision. Besides there was the utmost liberty to ride or to walk; to go faster or slower than the vehicle as you might feel disposed. There was also ample time to take in the varied beauties of nature as you passed along. The country over which we then traveled, now so thickly settled, then had almost the novelty of a primitive wilderness. It was the frontier of the United States. A few log cabins of pioneer settlers were scattered here and there along the spring branches with an occasional intermingling a homestead denoting wealth and comfort. We left Connecticut in April and the month had entirely passed away when we were on this journey through Missouri and Iowa. In keeping with the season of the year the rolling prairies were clothed in all the beauties of Spring time.
At that time Missouri was a slave state. One evening we came to a wealthy farm-house where there were fifteen or twenty Negro men, women and children. The family appeared to consist of the owner, his wife, a daughter and two sons. They were shearing sheep and washing the wool. Noticing a little wench who was sorrowful and crying, I helped her to wash wool. She told me that she had just been bought and taken away from her father and mother. When we first arrived the owner came out as my father went up to the man and asked him if he could stay overnight. The owner replied, "If you are not a Mormon you can stay in welcome." Father gave him an answer that appeared to satisfy him. We were made welcome to anything we wanted. One of the items was all the milk we wanted, if we would draw it from the cows. The following evening we stopped at a neat frame dwelling in a high prairie. The lady of the house informed us she was a Mormon and that the man whose hospitality we had shared the previous night was a bitter mobocrat and had assisted to burn the houses of the Saints and to drive them from that part of the State.
The next evening we camped with a gentleman who had several sons settled around him. Their log cabins made quite a village. Here squirrels were very numerous and were excellent eating. A large number had been caught and a skinning race was gotten up in which each of the men were to have all they could skin in five minutes. There were enough for a general feast. Soon after this my father bought a fine yoke of oxen and we traveled faster that we had done. About this time the teamster, who had driven the oxen from St. Joseph, returned home. One day, as we were traveling over a beautiful prairie, we came to several Indian trails running nearly parallel, having, probably, been traveled for ages by the aboriginal Americans. They were worn quite deep. As the wagon was crossing them my sister, Phebe, was thrown out of it in front across the tongue. This she caught hold of and swung herself under the wagon and it passed on without injuring her. These Indian trails were a novelty to us, and for a while it seemed sport for us to run along in them. Arriving at Kanesville, now Council Bluffs, my father hired a house of a Mr. Manhart. Two of the Quorum of the Twelve apostles visited my father and advised him to buy a farm. We looked around and finally bought enough of a Mr. Denfee and a widow Bowman to make a large farm. The fields were already sown with wheat and planted with corn.
The country around the Bluffs was visited by the most terrific thunderstorms we had ever experienced. Before moving to our farm, myself and the Manhart girls took a ramble in the woods. We found some gray kittens in a hollow tree. To find what appeared to be young cats in such a place was a novelty. We carried them along with us until one of the girls suggested that they might be wildcats. Our fertile imaginations at once visualized the old one in hot pursuit of her lost family. The young cats were something to be got rid of at once and we dropped them and left the spot as fast as possible.
We moved to our new home the last days of May or in the beginning of June. In about two months we had traveled some 2000 miles by steamboats and cars from our numerous kindred and the associations of many years and settled down on a new home in the West. We had voluntarily placed ourselves under the influence of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Since then the counsel of its leaders have molded our lives. When we left Bridgeport it was under the influence of that spirit of gathering which appears to rest on all who receive the Gospel among the nations of the earth. My father being counseled to buy a farm, in the neighborhood of Council Bluffs, was an item in the gathering policy of the church. Those who could not follow the pioneers to the Rocky Mountains were advised to raise grain and increase the number of their animals until they were able to fit out for crossing the thousand miles of desert which lay between them and Salt Lake. Then other arrivals on the frontiers bought the farms of those ready to leave, and by pursuing a similar policy would be prepared in a year or two to follow those who had preceded them. Our farm was in a rolling prairie and a spring near the house furnished water for family use. While living here I witnessed the most violent thunderstorms that I have ever experienced in my life. The rain came down in torrents and where there was only a small rivulet, a short time before, a mighty torrent of water would roll along. We had good crops of wheat and corn. This was sold during the winter and spring at fair prices as the overland travel made a market for the surplus produce of the country.
In the spring of 1850 my father sold the farm for cattle to complete our outfit for Salt Lake Valley, then the objective point of the wandering saints. When on our journey, about two days, the wagon which my uncle Julian Roberts had made for my father in Bridgeport, Connecticut and father had supposed would last for years, got so dry that the wheels began to give way. We succeeded in trading it for a larger and better one. We, gathered with the Saints at the general camp grounds at the mouth of Platte River. It was a beautiful place with groups of wagons here and there among the groves of trees. I had never before seen so large a collection of wagons. It was the place appointed for the Saints to rendezvous for the purpose of organizing into companies and receiving instructions before starting out on the Plains. They were first organized into tens, comprising ten wagons or families with a captain. Five of these ten's constituted a fifty with a captain over them. These were supposed to be strong enough to take care of themselves in the ordinary emergencies of travel. Two of these fifties were expected to travel near enough each other to consolidate under a captain of hundred in times of danger from Indians. Every family was expected to be prepared to live for six months and to have bread for one year. After we had organized and crossed the Platte River we considered that we were fairly started on our journey across the Great Plains.
One thousand miles of travel where we should only find savage Indians and not much less savage mountaineers. During the first days of travel, we found that the pestilence was keeping us company. A number of children were running along on foot. We saw a boy, about twelve years old, laying by the road side under a tree. At first we supposed that he was asleep. My father stopped his team and going to the boy found that he was so nearly dead that he spoke with difficulty. We gave him some prepared brandy and pepper which we carried with us. This revived him. He said his fathers name was Rollins. He had a large family, and for that reason had, perhaps not missed his son. He was in Captain Wall's company just ahead of us. We took him to his father who was camped with two or three companies on a rise of the ground. That night the rain descended in torrents.
Our company traveled on the South of the Platte River, the route usually traveled by the overland migration to California. The Saints were counseled to travel on the North side of the river, following the track made by the pioneers to Salt Lake Valley. We had considerable difficulty in getting through a miry piece of ground which resulted in breaking our wagon tongue, while stopping to repair damages, my mother, my sister Harriet and my brother George were taken with the cholera. When repairs were completed we started on. Soon after brother George said, "Father, I want to get out." Father took him out a short time and as he laid him back into the wagon he was dead. In this sorrowful condition we traveled on to camp about four miles distant. After arriving there and turning out the team father laid the remains of my brother under the wagon. It was nearly dark. I was very sorrowful. After walking around a little I came back to the wagon and found the body of my brother had been taken away. At a little distance I saw a light and started towards it. I was met by my father and asked, "Where is my brother?" He replied, "He is alright now. He is buried." It grieved me much that they had carried him off without my seeing him. It was perhaps wise to not permit my young mind to be impressed with the rude unconfined way in which they were obligated to put his remains into the earth.
Fortunately for the young, the keen edge of grief soon wears off. Father kindly got us into the wagon and to sleep as soon as possible. For him and my sister, Phebe, there was no sleep. They watched over the sick and dying. Early in the evening it was evident that the elements were gathering for a storm. I slept until the raging storm awoke me. My assistance was then required to keep the wagon from being turned over and the cover stripped off. This at any time was an unfortunate occurrence for a traveler across the plains but in that night of sorrow it would have been doubly afflicting. About four o'clock in the morning my sister left us to keep company with our departed brother. Before leaving Council Bluffs she had kept company with a young man who was on his way to California. Her last words were a message to him expressing her desire to meet him in Salt Lake but she could not. In the morning we buried her on a small rise of ground away from human habitation among the howling beasts of the plains. As nearly as we could judge my brother and sister died about twelve hours apart, the first about 4 o'clock in the afternoon and the latter about 4 o'clock in the morning. My mother was quite sick but we indulged hope of her recovery. When father talked to her about our dead she replied, "I shall notice it more when I get better." Disease had deadened the keener sensibilities of her nature.
Arriving near Ft. Laramie, we camped for the night on a beautiful plat of grass. Here about midnight our sorrows culminated in the death of my mother. The departure of our loved ones was characterized by un- usual disturbances of the elements around us. It was a terrible stormy night when our brother and sister departed. The evening before the death of our mother a circle was formed with our wagons inside of which our cattle were confined for the night. The jingling of bells and the rattling of chains warned us that our cattle had become panic stricken and were endeavoring to break the enclosure and run away. Ours was the last wagon on one side of the entrance to the corral and Captain Foot's the last on the opposite side. Chains were hung across from one wagon to the other to complete enclosure. The poor cattle on the frantic rush, smashed two brass kettles which were tied on the back end of our wagon box, but they probably saved the end gate from being crushed in. This stampede was doubly unfortunate on this night of our supremest sorrow, a brother Clements had previously been killed in a stampede when we were traveling. My mother died on the 6th of July about four miles from Ft. Laramie. There is a feeling of supreme loneliness connected with burying our dead a long distance from human habitations. As we traveled on and saw the Fort we learned that our mother might have been buried nearer the living. But circumstances pressed us onward and all our grief and tears would not bring our mother back, now buried on the little hill where we had left her to rest until the resurrection day.
For sometime we had been so absorbed in our own toils, watching and sorrows that we had no time to sympathize with our fellow travelers in theirs. A number of families had suffered. A man who traveled next to us lost his wife. Perhaps the most grievous case was that of Mr. Rollins whose little boy my father had picked up nearly dead by the roadside. Twelve out of fifteen in his family had passed away. Passing Laramie, we camped in a beautiful place by a group of springs for a week, to rest and clean up our wagons and clothing. Here a gentleman died and as some doubted his being dead. He was put into a grave and it was left open for some time, hoping he might come to life. I think the fear of death gave the pestilence a greater hold on some persons than it otherwise would have had.
The cholera had swept off many of the California emigrants who had preceded us on the route south of the Platte. We saw places where it was evident companies had camped and buried many of their number before moving. In most places clothing had been spread out on the bushes and left near the remains of their owners, the living having no use for these infected mementoes of those they had buried. We saw several places were the dead had been dug up by the wolves who had picked from their bones what flesh the pestilence has left. Here and there lay a skull lost from the frame to which it belonged. Out of some graves a hand or a foot would project. Other bodies had been buried with more care and were not disturbed by wild beasts. These reminiscences of past sufferings, connected with the terrible realities we were passing through, made a scene of horrors which I hope humanity seldom witnesses and which once seen can never be forgotten.
The following is a wonderful testimony of the care the Lord has for His people. While the cholera was very bad on the South side of the Platte River, on the North side the pestilence was harmless. I was in- formed that companies of Saints, who traveled on the North side of the river did not even lose an ox. As we approached the mountains we felt more vigorous and healthy. As we approached the buffalo range we saw immense herds of them. When we encountered one on the move our captain would order a halt in order to take better care of our animals and prevent them from stampeding with the buffalo, of which there was considerable danger. We dried considerable quantities of buffalo meat to last us into Salt Lake Valley.
On the alkali grounds west of Laramie we lost a cow. A lake covered with ice from two to four inches thick was a great curiosity to us. Our curiosity had been much exercised about a salaratus lake which we were to find in time on our route. The idea of gathering natural salaratus by the sack full was indeed novel. In this however we were not disappointed for we found such a lake and large quantities of the article were gathered by the company and taken to Salt Lake Valley to be used for making bread and manufacturing soap. On the banks of the Sweetwater we found many wild currants, also a red and yellow fruit which we called Buffalo berries in honor of the noble animal which roamed over the country we traveled in. We crossed several streams where we were under the necessity of raising our wagon boxes, by putting blocks under them, to avoid wetting our goods.
The passing of Ft. Bridger, the crossing of Bear River and other streams, indicated that we were approaching the object of our tedious journey. Echo Canyon, so named from the echoing back of sounds from its precipitous sides, was a point we had long been anxious to reach. For three months we had been traveling away from civilization, which had cast out the Saints, to build up a better one in the Deseret. After our long desert travel Salt Lake City was beautiful to us with its streams of crystal water running along the streets. There were not many houses but there were enough to give it an air of civilization and comfort. We left our home in Bridgeport, Connecticut in April 1849 and arrived in Salt Lake City in September 1850. We traveled about 3000 miles and passed through many changes and vicissitudes, some of them of a very trying nature. Three of our dear ones had passed through the gateway of death, we trust to a better life beyond. They ended their work; we still live on to accomplish ours.
The new arrivals in Salt Lake had the privilege of going North or South to settle. My father moved to Provo to spend the winter. I went to school to a Mr. Bear. I formed some pleasant acquaintances. Among them were Jeanette and Kitty Canover. They, like me, had lost their mother. Their father had married a young widow who had crossed the plains the previous summer. I also became acquainted with two half breed Indian girls, whose father was a mountaineer. Considering the circumstances under which they were born and raised they had made very fair progress in civilization.
In the spring of 1851, President B. Young called for volunteers to go South, 250 miles from Salt Lake City to strengthen the settlement of Parowan. My father concluded to leave Provo for Parowan. While we were traveling to the latter place, President Young and company going south to visit the Southern settlements, overtook us on Chicken Creek. The carriage of Mr. Horace Eldridge had been damaged, and, as my father was hunting for some iron, his team started and before he could stop them ran into the creek and turned the wagon over into the water. Myself and two or three more of the children were in the wagon. My sister, Josephine, was nearly drowned. I was taken from the back end of the wagon uninjured. Sister Eldridge worked over my sister until she recovered. That night we dried our clothing. The following day we traveled twelve miles to the Sevier River. We camped early and had quite an agreeable time. In the morning, when the animals were driven into camp, the horses of a Mr. Caruthers could not be found. The company spent some time in hunting them without success. We arrived in Parowan on the 12th of May, 1851. The following morning the ground was white with snow.
My father obtained a town lot and built a log house upon it. About this time, my sister Phebe became acquainted with, and married Robert R. Gillespie. We were in Indian country and a long distance from help in case of difficulty with Indians. The noted Indian Chief Walker frequently visited our section of the country. He and his brother Ammon generally manifested a friendly spirit. But at one time Walker and some of his braves manifested considerable uneasiness and it was feared that we might have difficulty with them. But through the wise policy of our President Geo. A. Smith, it was avoided. The people prepared a sumptuous dinner for the Chief and his whole band to which President Smith invited them. The tables were set in the front yard of Patriarch Elisha H. Groves The whole band of braves, squaws and papooses partook of the abundant repast. Some of our people ate with them. The 24th of July, the anniversary of the arrival of the Pioneers into Salt Lake Valley, was celebrated by the people of this frontier outpost with great unity and good feeling and with all the outward display of rejoicing that means allowed. The people gathered on the public square and marched to the log meeting house. There they listened to a variety of music, speeches and toasts. In the evening they enjoyed themselves in the dance. About this time I became acquainted with Zadock Judd and accompanied him to the dance on the evening of the 24th of July. We were finally united "for better or for worse" on the 14th of November, 1852.
We attended the General Conference in Salt Lake City April 6, 1853. We were present at the laying of the corner stone of the Salt Lake Temple. We visited my husband's relatives for two or three weeks and then returned to our home in Parowan. At this time there was a great effort being made to establish an iron foundry at Cedar City, a new settlement 18 miles from Parowan. They were much in need of a considerable quantity of wrought iron to complete the works. Before our trip to Salt Lake in February 1853 my husband Z. K. Judd, John Steele, J. A. Little, Wm. Barton and Samuel Lewis started on a trip to the Muddy, 200 miles from Parowan, on the southern route to California, with the hope of obtaining the needed iron which had been left along the road from wagons destroyed because they could not be hauled further. The party was gone about three weeks and several days longer than they expected to be when they left home. This and the report brought in by some Indians that two or three white men had been killed. on the Muddy raised considerable excitement in Parowan. A company of men, under Captain George Woods took the road to the Muddy to learn the fate of the absent ones and afforded them relief if necessary. They met the party at the Mountain Meadows alive and well but contending with the large snow banks which measurably blocked the road through the meadows. They had cashed some of the grain for their teams when going out. This, which the Indians had stole, had retarded their progress by weakening their teams. When Capt. Woods and company returned it raised a heavy cloud from the families of the men and from the people generally.
October 18, 1853 our first child, a daughter, Lucinda A. was born to us. A Sister Hoyt desired that I should give the child to her as she had no children. She said I was young and would have more children, but I have never had a child to part with.
My father, taking with him two of my brothers and two of my sisters, left Parowan for San Bernardino, California, October 17, 1853. This left only myself and sister in Utah. In the spring of 1854 my husband was called with others to go to some distant mountain for glazing material for the use of a pottery, which was being started in Salt Lake City. About this time I was very sick and was healed through the ad- ministering of the Elders. November 25, 1855, our oldest son, Zadock K. Judd, Jr., was born. We had previously bought a Pahranegat Indian boy about six years old. About a month after the birth of our oldest son, my husband was called with others to go over the rim of the great basin on to a stream called the Santa Clara and assist in building a rock fort, 100 feet square with walls 12 feet high. When the fort was completed he returned to Parowan and moved his family to the new location in the desert. It consisted of myself, our daughter, Lucinda, our son, Zadock K. and the Indian boy, Lamoni. We left our home in Parowan in the month of April 1856. We started in the afternoon and that night it snowed. Our stock consisted of a pair of mares which drew our wagon, two cows and two calves. In the wagon was our very limited household furnishings, our clothing and provisions. The whole outfit was very primitive in its character, consisting only of a very limited supply of what is now considered necessities. It was probably a fair sample of the general condition of the Saints who colonized these mountains in these early days. Healthy and full of faith, we started out into the desert 100 miles to make a new home for ourselves and extend the border of the rapidly increasing Saints at that time. There was no road to the Santa Clara except the old California route via Mountain Meadows. On account of the scarcity of grass we were obliged to feed our hungry horses part of the straw out of our bed. With snow and mud and hungry horses we made slow progress. My husband drove the cows and I took care of the children and drove the team. When we got to a place known as Grapevine Springs we traveled a part of the night hoping to find better feed. The snow fell so much that night that it was difficult to start a fire in the morning. We had a heavy hill to get up with our weak team. Brother Judd drove the cows ahead to break the track and then came back and drove the team up the hill while I blocked the wagon wheels so they could stop and rest. The wind blew as we neared the top of the hill so that we could scarcely see.
It was a great relief when we started down the grade on the south side towards the Santa Clara. It became much warmer as we descended and we soon left the snow and mud behind. That night we camped on the headwaters of the Santa Clara. An Indian soon appeared at our camp. We gave him some flour mush and then started him off with a note to Jacob Hamblin at the fort requesting him to come to our assistance with two yoke of cattle. As we continued our journey the following morning we came to a somewhat noted place where the road ran along the creek bottom and nearly under a high projecting rock. The projecting rock and the thick timber and underbrush on the bottom made it a very favorable place for Indians to attack travelers. There had been several white men killed in the vicinity by Captain Jackson's band. I felt somewhat nervous over the situation but my husband assured me that there was no danger as the Indians knew him having seen him work on the Santa Clara Fort. We came to where a tree had blocked up the road. By looking about, Brother Judd soon found a place where we could drive around it and thus avoid making a noise with an ax. Soon after we arrived at a large bottom where the Indians had raised corn. Several of these Indians came out of their court and followed us. For a time their numbers increased. Mr. Judd urged on the cows and I urged on the team, keeping close to him. The Indians soon began to drop off, one by one, until only a few remained. They inquired where we were going and learning our destination they nearly all returned back. About noon we came to the foot of a bad hill. As our team was too weak to draw our load up it, we were obliged to carry up a part of it ourselves-the Indians assisted us by taking up a sack of flour. As we started down the other side of the hill we saw our much wished for friend, Jacob Hamblin, coming up the hill to our assistance. The principal difficulties of this journey were now over. We rapidly descended. It was like going from winter into summer. One day we were in the snow, mud and chilling winds; the next day we saw the cottonwood trees in leaf and vegetation in bloom of advanced spring.
We arrived at the Fort on a Sabbath evening. Here we had hoped for a rest, at least from harassing, fatiguing travel. We were immediately involved in one of those trying circumstances which have not only characterized the lives of colonizing Saints, but as well of American pioneers generally. Those arriving from the north advised the brethren to move their families back to the stronger settlements, as the Indians were manifesting a hostile spirit and we were considered too weak to be safe so far from assistance. As there was safety in returning and as remaining might endanger our lives, we submitted with the best possible graces to the stern decree of circumstances.
We with our jaded team and exhausted resources, turned to go back. The company consisted of four wagons and eight mounted men. In going back we took a new route, going East from the Fort. The first day we traveled about five miles and camped. at the spring above the present town of St. George. There was nothing inviting on the surrounding benches. The most prominent vegetation was the thorny mesquite and the unapproachable cactus. Around and below the spring there was a plat of green grass which was some relief to the surrounding monotony or barrenness. In the morning the horsemen started in an easterly direction. We made a wagon track over the black ridge running between the present towns of St. George and Washington. We nooned that day on the Rio Virgin. We camped that night at a group of springs around which was a spot of green grass. In that country the sight of such spots, no matter how insignificant they might be, was so refreshing. The following day we nooned on a small creek, on which grew a few cottonwood trees, and at night camped on a larger creek with an increased growth of cottonwoods. So we named the creeks Big and Little Cottonwood. The day after, we passed a spring where wild grapevines were growing luxuriantly. The spot has since been known as Grapevine Springs. The day after passing these springs we arrived at the foot of what is known as the Black Ridge. With quite a precipitous ascent of two miles and covered with boulders of black volcanic rock, interspersed with brush and Cedar trees it looked impracticable for wagons. With great labor for our teams we wade the sum of it and passed down its western face a further distance of two miles on to what is now known as Ash Creek. Before arriving at the creek we found a wood road which had been made by the settlement of Harmony which was a little above us. This called to my mind the circumstance that when my first born was a baby. I had visited father Elisha H. Groves and family, who lived in this place, in company with a brother and sister Littlefield and my husband. I still had a vivid recollection of the beautiful gardens I saw and of the delicious melons we then ate. The wagons camped on the creek but the horsemen went on to the town. It was not long until word reached us that the missionaries from Santa Clara would have a supper prepared for us by the missionaries wives who resided in Harmony. After starting in the morning we soon reached the town.. We there found the following brethren and their families, Rich-Robison- Riddle-Knights-Coleman-Jacob and Oscar Hamblin and Dudly Leavitt. At this time Harmony was the most Southern Settlement of the Saints. Consequently, the most convenient for the families of the brethren who still expected to operate on the Santa Clara. We remained here while the brethren returned to Ft. Hamblin, as we called the fort on the Santa Clara, to put in crops of cane and cotton. When Mr. Judd had got his crop in he came back to Harmony and went to our old home in Parowan for flour and other supplies that we had left there. When he returned to Harmony we again loaded up our few household goods and started for the Santa Clara. We were accompanied by Oscar Hamblin and family; nine persons in all. We returned by the new road we had made in coming up to Harmony. It rained when we crossed the Black Ridge. This made the ground so slippery that in steep and sidling places it was difficult to keep our wagons right side up.
For a while it seemed lonesome at the Fort. The men were under the necessity of going about 10 miles up the creek to make a dam in order to get the water to our growing crops. On these crops we were dependent, not only for our food but for cotton from which to make our future clothing. One morning all the men started for the dam as usual, leaving only Sister Oscar Hamblin, myself and our children at the Fort. After starting, brother Jacob Rambling turned his horse and came back. He said to us, "You had better shut the Fort gates that you may be safe, for I feel that the Indians when they see us go, will be sure to come back and scare you." We did as directed. During the day we had occasion to go to the creek for water. When returning to the Fort we saw an old Indian Captain coming. We ran and tried to shut the gates but they. were large and heavy. We did not get them quite fastened when Agrapoots came and tried to push them open. He did not succeed but saw that we did not wish to let him in and he went off mad. Soon after other Indians came and wished to be let in. We said nothing and they soon left. About dark the men came home and we were much pleased to find us safe. When all the men left again, to work on the dam, we took our dinners and the children and went with them. This was a task of which we soon tired. So we managed to keep the Fort closed when the men were away. In that hot country the wheat crop comes off much earlier than in the northern part of the Territory. After ours was gathered and thrashed the men wished to make a trip to Salt Lake City. As there were but two families at the Fort it was thought advisable to take them along. We went and remained with our friends until fall. As the grasshoppers had destroyed much of the crops in the northern part of Utah we thought it best to take a load of wheat with us and have it ground. The flour was very acceptable to our friends, as they were out of bread and there was but little to be had. We remained north until our friends had harvested their wheat. We traded flour for a pair of cotton cards and a spinning wheel. The necessity of making our own clothing is apparent when the fact is considered that goods for the Utah market were freighted 1000 miles across the plains and through the mountains. We were a long distance from the central source of supply in Utah and on its extreme Southern frontier. Our cash re- sources were very limited. Hence the necessity of manufacturing our cotton into clothes to cover ourselves. I manufactured enough yarn from raw cotton, by the autumn of 1857, to make 30 yards of cloth. Those who brought families from the north had now moved them on to Santa Clara. Others had married. Brother D. Leavitt brought his mother with him from the north. Being an experienced weaver she was a great help to us. Mother Leavitt wove my first piece of cloth and instructed me in the art.
On a washing day, when I was extremely busy, the Indians came into our house. As the two children were there and the father came in soon after our limited house soon became somewhat crowded. I put a kettle of hot water under the table so that the children might not fall into it. All my care was to no avail. I had just turned away to my work when my son, Knapp, sat back under the table into the kettle of boiling water. He was scalded allover one side from his shoulder to his feet. With constant care night and day for three weeks he was out of danger. By the fall of 1857 there had been quite an addition to our numbers. In the spring of 1857 Brothers Thales Haskell and Samuel Knights brought down their families. One day, when the men were out at work in various places, Brother Thales Haskell was up the creek taking out beaver dams so that the water could come down. A young Indian went to his house, took down his gun which hung against the wall. His wife, Sister Maria Haskell, was at the fireplace engaged in cooking. Probably through the carelessness of the Indian, the gun was discharged and she was shot in the hip and abdomen. I heard the shot and went out and saw her come out of her house with her hands across her breast. I ran and asked her, "What is the matter?" She answered, "I do not know but think I am shot." She told me about the young Indian being in the house. About this time brother Oscar Hamblin and his wife came into the house and put Sister Haskell on a bed. I went as fast as possible about a mile to call some men who were harvesting. They said an Indian had been sent to tell them, but they had no confidence in what he said. We all returned to the Fort together. We sent an Indian runner to tell Brother Haskell and the other brethren who were still out of the misfortune. Brother Jacob Hamblin directed us to examine Sister Haskell and if possible find the bullet. It had entered her left thigh and came out on her left side near the upper part of the abdomen. I cut into it with a razor but my heart failed me when I went to take it out and brother Hamblin completed the operation. This afflicting affair occurred on Saturday morning. Early on Sunday morning her husband arrived. By 10 o'clock the men were all in. A doctor was sent for and everything possible was done to save sister Haskell but she passed away at 4 o'clock that Sunday afternoon. In that small, isolated community all mourned but the husband seemed inconsolable. At first we could neither talk nor weep. We buried his wife in her wedding suit of white dress and underclothes. The 15th of December my son Knapp was scalded. In March, 1858, we bought an Indian girl. In the summer of 1858 the saints, who had settled in San Bernardino, California moved back to Utah. In September of the same year my baby Harriet, aged nine months, died. We had taken her to the Mountain Meadows hoping that the bracing air of that high altitude would help her. We went home and buried her at the Santa Clara.
I continued to card and spin cotton when I could spare time from other necessary labors. My husband, Z. K. Judd made the first cotton gin in these mountains. It was of somewhat rude construction but it was many times better than picking the seed out with the fingers. It was made of oak timber and steel and turned by a crank. We furnished the first settlers of the town of Washington and others with cotton seed. The town of Washington was located about 12 miles east of us and their farms were on the bottom of the Virgin River. On the 24th of July, 1858, the people of the town got up a celebration of the entrance of the Pioneers into Salt Lake Valley. The people of the Santa Clara, being few in number, joined them in their festivities. On the occasion we enjoyed the hospitality of the family of brother Waldo Littlefield. The ensuing Autumn a fair was held at the same place for the exhibition of agricultural and manufacturing products. It evidenced the progress of the people in their efforts to sustain them- selves and was quite an interesting affair. There were many visitors. It was thought advisable for all persons to take their food with them. We took enough food for several others besides our own family. In those early, isolated settlements of the desert the people were so nearly an equality that there was no class distinction. The result was that these social gatherings were a source of great enjoyment to the people. During this fair we enjoyed the hospitality of a sister Clark. That season I manufactured and colored the yarn for a piece of check for shirts and for two coverlids. I employed sister Meeks of Parowan to do my weaving. The completion of a piece of cloth in these times was an event of considerable importance in a family.
This year (1858) we raised cane and manufactured considerable molasses which was a great addition to our food supply. In the autumn, my sister Phebe and her three children came from the northern part of the Territory to stay with us. We labored hard to manufacture and made quite a long piece of jeans and some Lindsey. The jeans were colored green! Our coloring materials and our methods of using it were both primitive. We were often compelled to gather our coloring material from the wild vegetation around us. On the 24th of July, 1859, the 12th anniversary of the entrance of the pioneers into Salt Lake Valley, my daughter, Lois Sabina, was born. My sister Phebe went to the town of Washington and while there, married Mr. Andrew Gibbons. About this time George A. Smith, one of the First Presidency of the Church, and Apostle Amasy Lyman made the Saints in Southern Utah a visit. We went to Salt Lake City to attend the general Conference on the 6th of October. My husband's sister, Lois , Mitchell and her four children came to the Santa Clara with us to I make her sister, Rachel Hamblin, a visit. Grain was scarce in the I settlement and it was difficult to get good bread to eat. We had a half bushel of sugar cane seed ground to see if it would make bread. It was so poor that we were forced to be contented with a good white corn meal.
In May, 1861, the Indian girl which we had purchased March 11th, 1858 died. To keep our bodies covered we were still compelled to manufacture cloth from the raw material. I made yarn for more jeans and a carpet. December 16th, 1861 my son, Henry Eli, was born. About this time there was quite a company of Swiss Saints arrived on the Santa Clara to settle. In the winter of 1861-62 the city of St. George was laid out. For several weeks I was very sick with chills and fever. My principal nourishment was the water in which dried peaches had been soaked. Mr. Gibbons' family lived in one of our houses and my sister Phebe took care of me. She had a little daughter which she named Rosella. After the birth of my child my health improved. About this time my husband was invited to the wedding of Mr. Francis Hamblin and Miss Elizabeth Lay. Being an Elder in the Church he was invited to perform the marriage ceremony. I was too feeble to attend. Some months prior to this, I had attended the wedding of Fredrick Hamblin and Miss Francis Stoddard. Mother Stoddard was my husband's step-mother. She and her children had come from San Bernardino in the Fall of 1858 on account of the invasion of Utah by a United States army under General Johnston. Being on the extreme frontier and much absorbed in helping my husband produce the absolute necessities of life, I could not pay much attention to what was going on outside of my immediate surroundings. In 1862 we brought our third Indian child of the Pieads. We called her Nellie.
Early in the winter of 1861-62 it commenced to rain and continued to do so almost constantly for three weeks. About the I time I was again taken down with sickness and was near unto death with the gravel. I could not rest night or day. My husband got some of the Elders of the church to administer to me. First they prayed and then anointed me with Holy oil and then laid their hands on my head, prayed for me and blest me. From that time on I began to recover. The pain left me and I dropped to sleep and slept a long time. This was the second time I had been healed by the Administering of the Elders when I was nigh unto death.
The rain still continued to come down as though it never intended to stop. We had our new house covered so that the carpenters could work. They finished the front bedroom first. As the rain found its way into the old house we moved into the new one. The first night we slept there we awoke on the night and it was so light that at first we thought the day had broke. My husband remarked, "I have been dreaming and it is said that your dream the first night you sleep in a new house will come to pass." I inquired what he had dreamed Said he, "I dreamed we had a flood which washed the whole town and it woke me up. But," he continued, "this light does not look right. It looks like a bright moon or candle light." He arose and looked out of the window and sure enough our neighbors were stirring with lamps, candles and torch lights. The flood dreamed of was upon us. The water was running through our little town and had surrounded the Fort where Jacob Hamblin and several others lived. They were the first to be around. They had left the fort for higher ground but the water still continued to rise. We got up and dressed. Brother Judd went to assist in getting out a Swiss family that would not go when they were advised to. There was a large gate in the side of the Fort next to the creek and a small door on the opposite side. The water was running in the door and out of the gate on the opposite side and taking everything that was light with it. My husband did not return for some time. I was there alone with my children, anxious and impatient. I did not know what to do. The water was running through and around the fort and pouring into the creek with the noise of a big cataract. About this time an Indian boy came running to me saying, “Where is the big rope ? There is a man in the creek goiown stream." Instead of answering his question, in my anxiety I asked, "Who is it ?" He relied by again asking "Who has got the big rope ?" I finally answered his question, "I think it is down to Mr. Knight's, but I do not know," and away he went.
The water continued to raise until it was within a few feet of our front door and still my husband did not return. Weak as I was, I concluded to do the best I could to save the children and household goods. I sent my Indian boy out to see what was going on. He returned with the information that everybody was moving on to the higher ground above the houses. I concluded it was time I was doing so, too. With the assistance of the boy, I moved the beds and carpet back of the house, made camp, moved the children and put them to bed. After moving our household goods to the new location, as I was much exhausted, I lay down myself. It was not yet daylight. When my husband came and found the water near our house he began hunting for his family. He soon found us camped on the hillside with our neighbors. He said the whole town was under water. Day soon began to dawn and I saw the big rope which the Indian boy had so anxiously inquired for in the night stretched from the house of Mr. Knight's to some large shade trees and from there to the Fort door. Jacob Hamblin was carrying the Swiss woman on his back out of the Fort and holding on to the rope to prevent being washed away by the torrent of water. My husband told me that he had previously gone into the Fort to bring out a 10 year old boy. When brother Hamblin started across the stream the boy was careless and did not hold to him properly, in consequence, of which brother Hamblin stumbled and they both fell down in the roiling torrent. Brother Hamblin's hat fell off and in the effort to get it, they went into deeper water and for a short time went roiling down stream. However, brother Hamblin caught his hat and as well held on to the boy. Just as the stream was about to sweep them around the corner of the Fort, into a still more dangerous place, he succeeded in drawing the boy with him out of the deepest part of the current, against the Fort. He made his way back into the fort and remained there until the rope was better arranged, when he made his escape with the boy.
Before it was dark that evening the water began to go down. There was a large amount of grain stored in the Fort which it was thought advisable to remove as fast as possible. All the Swiss camp that could be spared assisted in removing it to the higher ground. The men exerted themselves but before all the grain and molasses could be removed, the fort and its contents were carried off in the raging flood. One dwelling house after another followed the Fort until nearly all the homes of the settlement had disappeared. That evening was very dark. It appears that Jacob Hamblin thought he would look over the bank and see how mush the water had receded. While he was looking down, down went the bank into the flood and he with it. Fortunately, the amount of earth was so large that it was a few minutes before it was all swept away, and he was so fortunate as to be on the part that remained a short time. He yelled for the rope. Someone said that it was of no use for he was already gone. He heard this and yelled more but his voice was drowned in the roaring waters. But with the fear that he was already gone every possible exertion was made to use the rope for his rescue. It was thrown over the bank and fortunately, he was still there to seize it. He put it around his body under his arms and his friends above began to raise him. Just as the dirt where he stood was sliding into the stream. He was soon safe once more. He said he feared he was gone that time but the Lord saved him as he had done many times before.
The following day, after the water had subsided through our fields and where the gristmill and our houses had stood, was a gulch several rods wide and forty or fifty feet deep. In c the bottom of this gulch we found springs where we obtained water for family use. To me it seemed frightful. Steps were made in the bank but I was afraid that if I got down in there I would not get back again. In this flood one town went down, Fort grist-mill and much of the farming land on which stood many beautiful shade and fruit trees. The results of years of toil and privation passed away like a dream or night vision, down the river Colorado and the sea. Soon after this sweeping misfortune we moved about two miles down the Santa Clara on to a large bottom. There a town site was located and surveyed.
We moved what we had saved from the flood on to one of the lots and commenced again to make a home. My husband hired adobies made, dug a cellar walled it up with rock and built a house over it with three rooms. We hired a carpenter to finish it before the coming October. Being Bishop of the Ward, it was Brother Judd's duty to see that a schoolhouse was built as soon as possible. He urged the trustees to clear the brush from the ground, and the foundation was laid immediately and a schoolhouse was soon built. The walls of our new house were up and the shingles for the roof laid on the ground, when brother Judd was called to go on a mission to the Navajo Indians with Elder Jacob Hamblin and others. My husband had fenced our town lot and set is out with shade and fruit trees. About the time they were growing well, he was taken with chills and fever. The fever would quite often make him light headed. The war between the Northern and Southern states was then raging and when reading the news, he would sometimes imagine he was taking an active part in the battles.
Although his health was poor, when the time came he started on his mission into Arizona. At the time the Navajo nation was in an uproar, United States troops were driving and killing them on their Eastern frontier. The Navajos met our brethren, after they had crossed the Colorado, and threatened to kill them. But the brethren tried to persuade them that they were friends and in no way connected with those who were killing and driving. The Indians replied that they were white men like those who were making war on them, but if they would leave at once they should conclude that they were not spies. The brethren concluded it was wisdom to turn back. Some were herding horses, others cooking breakfast, etc. George A., the son of President George A. Smith, went with others to gather up the horses. When on the way to camp an animal belonging to him ran back among the Navajo horses, the young man went back after it and for a short time was not in sight of his companions. He was young and inexperienced. Two or three Indians rode up to him, one of whom asked to let him see his pistol. Not suspecting treachery young Smith handed it to him; then the treacherous Navajo shot him with it. His companions heard the firing and hastened to his rescue. They found him on the ground by the side of the trail, badly wounded with three shots in him. He was carried to camp and the brethren packed their animals and took the trail for home. Brother Johiel McConnell carried young Smith in front of him on his mule, until he died, when they were compelled by the pursuing Navajos to lay the body by the trail unburied. It was a fatiguing, sorrowful trip and the more fatiguing because sorrowful.
I felt considerable uneasiness when my husband left home as he was so unwell that he could hardly ride. All who were called to go, went and were three months from home.
An afflicting accident occurred at home while the brethren were gone on this trip. Duane Hamblin, a son of Jacob Hamblin, was killed during his father’s absence by the caving in of a bank while he was working on an irrigation ditch. He was a promising young man, had lately returned from a mission, and had been married only four or five months. His young wife remained until a stone was placed at the head of her husband's grave. Then she returned to her people in the northern part of the territory. The missionaries suffered considerably for food on their trip. Some provisions they had buried on the way out had been found by Indians. They had been compelled to eat some wolf meat for want of anything better. Through the mercies of God they arrived home safe and sound. It was sorrowful to leave one of their companions unburied on the desert and the loss of young Hamblin was a very afflicting affair but the survivors were thankful that matters were no worse. All is well that ends well.
Before our Indian boy, Lamoni, died he told Nellie that she would die as he was going to die if she remained with the white people as the food of the whites would kill the Indians if they eat it. In 1876 she took his counsel, married an Indian, had a baby boy in a year and went off to live with his people.
Of necessity, home manufactures were still carried on. I spun yarn for four small shawls and for three cover-lids. Our weaving was done in other settlements. Our home began to be nice and cool, for our shade and fruit trees and our grapevines had grown luxuriantly.
The flood had washed away much of our best farming land and what was left we had divided with our neighbors, the Swiss, until we were rather short. My husband farmed five miles up the creek where he raised some excellent crops.
In the fall of 1863 my children had what was called the putrid sore throat. A doctor of our people attended them but with all our care our little four year old Lois died on October 12 and we buried her beside her sister. This month of October, since the flood, seemed more sickly than before. Time passes on and on April 3, 1864 our son Ezra Abner was born. This summer we thought best to go to the valleys about 75 miles north west of Santa Clara where there were good places to make dairying farms. Several families felt as we did; like moving to a more healthy climate. We located for the summer at Meadow Valley. Soon after we went there, the place proved to be near a silver mine. Our men took claims on different levels. Miners soon came in and there was plenty of company. Some of them camped below us to cut hay. They soon had trouble with the Indians, who determined to fight it out with them. Our people moved close together and prepared to guard themselves day and night. Some Indians were caught and put under guard. They caused considerable trouble. One broke and ran away and I never saw such running before. One man shot at him but he ran all the faster. He went like a kite in the wind. He beat both men and horses and was soon out of sight behind the low mountains in the distance. Other Indians tried to get away and fought like bloodhounds. I think one of the prisoners was killed during these efforts to escape. This made more trouble. Our people sent an armed force from other settlements to protect our stock and us. These events took place in the months of August and September 1864.
We with several other families returned to the Santa Clara to spend the winter. Some fifty men remained to guard the stock of our people and of the miners. I felt more fear after we had reached our home than I had done when away where I saw all that was going on around me. Our two Indian children always seemed quite a safeguard around me. We drove our horses and cattle, consisting of about 25 head, home with us. During the summer we had made quite a supply of butter and cheese.
In the spring of 1865 we sold out our home on the Santa Clara and moved to Eagle Valley. In going out we lay by two or three days with an old acquaintance. Some of his neighbors children had the measles. Soon after we arrived at our new home, two of my brothers children and three of our own were taken with the disease. My baby, Ezra Abner A. Judd, died with it at Eagleville, April 26, 1865. For safety in case of trouble with the Indians we lived in a fort for two or three years. In this place my daughter Esther was born April 9, 1866; also Asa Walter, August 28, 1868. My sister came to see me and concluded to remain awhile. We moved on to our city lots and my husband fenced his field and divided his pasture from his hay ground and built a barn. Our son, Samuel Ami, was born in Eagleville, August 14, 1870. The following winter Mr. Judd began to build a frame house one and one-half stories high. Before it was completed we left our home in Eagleville and moved to Kanab. Eagleville discovered to be in Nevada near the southern boundary of Utah. Here we found a mild climate, the land unclaimed, and consequently a good place to make homes. In time we homesteaded our farm land and obtained the title to our town lots under the Town Site Law. In this place January 30, 1873, a son was born to us whom we called James Arthur. He died at Kanab, May 3, 1878. Another son, William Leonard, born May 2, 1874. This year there was quite a stir made by an effort to establish what was called the United Order. The men put their property together and worked in common. The effort to united personal financial interests was a failure. Our son, William Leonard, died at Kanab, August 20, 1875. Our daughter, Mary Gertrude, was born at Kanab June 23, 1876. June 18, 1880, our son, Arza Orange or Orin, was born. At his birth he weighed 12 pounds. He died in Kanab, March 2, 1881. In September, 1881, our oldest son, Zadock Knapp, was called on a mission to the Southern States. Our son, Henry Eli, took him and a brother Clayton to the railroad station, 250 miles and our son left Salt Lake City for his field of labor after the October Conference.
Our son, John Seal, was born December 18, 1881 and died May 28, 1882.
I will now give a genealogy of my Fathers' Mothers' people. Thomas Sharp; born about 1680 A. D. in England, immigrated to Stratford, U. S., in 1700. In 1701 he married Lydia Dickinson, daughter of Wm. who immigrated to Stratford and was the son of the Rev. Fredrick Dickinson of England.
Thomas Sharp was a surveyor of highways. He and his heirs acquired several hundred acres of land in Newton. He died in 1712, leaving five children whose names are; Thomas, born March 18, 1702, died 17 April 1765; Mary, born October 10, 1703. (Newton Record, Book Two, Page 254.); William, born August 19,1705. (Newton Record, Book Two, Page 254.); John born February 1, 1708. (Newton Record, Book Two Page 254.) ; Elizabeth B., born April 18, 1712. (Newton Record Book Two Page 254.)
Thomas Sharp of Newton, son of Thomas and Lydia, married Sarah Crozier, daughter of Richard and Granddaughter of William Crozier. She was born February 17, 1745. Children: Thomas, born May 28, 1746, died 4 March 1805; Lydia, born December 16, 1748; John born November 12, 1750, married Phedina Lake. Elekim, born December, 1752. Married Hester Whetmore. Jessie Born January 30, 1775; Sarah, born March 25, 1760. Married John Blake Case--was a soldier of the Revolution. Ruth, born January 1, 1777 married Shadrack Peck. Jessie, son of Thomas and Sarah married, had children. Sally married a Mr. Yale. John born 1790, married W. Kate Dawsen. He died October 27, 1825. William, born-married Miss Berdsley, daughter of Moses. Lydia, married William Dart. Lived in Stratford, or Huntington. Nancy, married Levi Dart, brother of William Dart. Hepsey married Joel Calkins. David went to sea when young and never returned.
Jessie Sharp, in the records of the Town of Derby, Vol 11, page 126 is named as one of the original proprietors of the Quaken Farm purchased a tract of land was set off to his at a place called Good Hill Rock on the easterly side of the highway adjoining the great river, also another piece of land lying westerly on the highway next to river for a fishing place. The above is taken from the Sharp genealogy. Joseph Dart, the 1st of Stratford. Dart Genealogy. Children: William Dart married Lydia Ann Sharpe. Joseph, Jr., married Hannah Beardsley of Huntington. Anna married Joseph Lyman, born 1744 or July 28, 1842. She died June 3, 1855.
Eunice Enerette married a man by the name of Poor in Meadville, Pa. Witta Dart born.
Levi G. Dart married Nancy M. Sharp, daughter of Jessie Sharp. Benjamin was a soldier in the Revolutionary War, married a Dutch woman, said to have had 12 children. Their name was differently spelled. He returned to Stratford in 1847 or 1848. His youngest son’s name was Daniel Benjamin, visited G. L. Dart in Peru, Indiana in 1855. Went to Lexington, Kentucky and died there about 1860.
William Dart, son of Joseph 1st lived in Stratford, Conn. Married Lydia M. Sharp. Their children were: William, Jr., was a merchant in New York City in 1832. The Monroe town record shows that William Dart of Huntington married Molly B. Sharp July 6, 1826. They had 2 or 3 or more children in 1832. Levi Dart married his cousin, Maria Sharp. John Dart born November 11, 1809, married Lucy Ann Roberts. She was born November 7, 1814; died July 6, 1850. Lucius Dart born, married and had 2 children, boys. One, a sailor and was drowned in sight of home in Bridgeport, Conn. The circumstances of his death are: He had engaged his services as a sailor on board a ship. His folks were much opposed to his going because they had seen a light out on the water which at first was scarcely noticed but it grew larger and larger until it assumed the shape and size of a man but his promise was out and he must go but said this would be his last trip. He went and being called up in the night to manage the helm, by some accident was knocked overboard and lost. His widow married again and went to Maine or Mass. Nancy Moriar born November 14, 1814 in Stratford married James Spence. He was born in Tully, New York November 12, 1810, died August 4, 1873. George, born in Stratford died aged 12 years when going to mill. Was run over with a loaded cart and killed. William Dart, son of Joseph and grandson of Joseph was a sailor when young he went to China where or when they would not allow any foreigner to enter their city unless dressed in silk and blindfolded. He complied and was lead in where he saw them drying tea on copper plates. On July 15, 1815 in company with John Wheeled and John Sharp, William Dart started from New York for England for the purpose of getting possession of property which of right they supposed belonged to them. After a voyage of 37 days the arrived in England but after weeks of fruitless labor John Sharp was taken sick and died and was buried in St. John's churchyard at Liverpool. His two companions returned to America. William Dart died away from home having valuable papers in his possession that his folks never got. The valuable papers were in a leather belt around his body. Died in Huntington, Connecticut. This same William Dart married Lydia Ann Sharpe, daughter of Jessie Sharp, son of Thomas and Sarah Crozier Sharp. Thomas was son of Thomas and Lydia Dickerson Sharp who immigrated to Stratford, Connecticut from England about 1700. Lydia Ann Sharp Dart died in 1817. Levi Dart, son of William and Lydia Sharp Dart married his cousin Maria Sharp. He built a farm house on the-River above Capt. Cook's grist mill and bridge and below the railroad. His brother, John, helped him haul brick and lumber for the same. Children born in Connecticut: Lydia M. Dart, born 1832, married a Mr. Palmer, a widower, he had children. Mary Jane born 1834 married a Mr. Hawkes. He died and she married a Mr. Smith and had children by both husbands. Hawkes killed in War of the Rebellion. Nancy Mariah born 18 April 1863 married George Sellek, born October 6, 1832 had two children : Nancy 1853, Augusta Selleck October 2, 1855.
George Dart, son of William and Lydia Sharp Dart, born in Stratford, Connecticut about 1816. Was killed by being run over with a cart when going to mill at the age of 12 years.
A short sketch of the life of John Dart, son of William and Lydia Sharp Dart. Born November 11, 1810 at Stratford, Connecticut. His mother died when he was 8 years old. His father apprenticed him to a blacksmith to learn the trade. November 24, 1831 he married Lucy Ann Roberts in Monroe, Connecticut. She was born November 7, 1814 in Monroe, Connecticut. Two children were born. From here they moved: first to McLean, New York, from there moved to Groton, Thompkins Co. In the two above places four children were born. He built a frame house, two stories high and a store and carried on the mercantile business for a livelihood. While here he was sick for one year, nigh unto death. During his sickness his partner in business took advantage of him and got him to sign papers which took away from him all of his property.
His doctor now advised him to go to the seashore to regain his health. He went to Bridgeport, Ct. and took charge of the Drawbridge and tollgate. He lived there one year. He lived at the point East Bridgeport for three months. He then went to Stratford, Connecticut and bought a house and lot of a Mr. Bruce. Mr. Lewis was our nearest neighbor. Another was a Mr. Revers from Spain, who kept many servants. Also Mr. Peck attended the grist-mill. They were all wealthy farmers and dairymen. Three more children were born here. In the spring of 1849 he sold his place to Mr. Gilbert and started for the west; having previously been visited by his brother-in-law, Sidney Riberts, who preached Mormon Doctrine to him, therefore he concluded to go west and investigate the principles. After traveling over two thousand miles he landed at Council Bluffs, where he bought a large farm and stock cows and oxen for the farm.
In the spring of 1850, with a large wagon and four yokes of cattle, he left his new home and started to the West. The first day’s travel brought him to a place where the Mormons were gathering and preparing their wagons and outfit for crossing the Plains. He crossed the Missouri at the mouth of the Platte River and traveled up the Platte on the south side. After the few days travel brought the company into an extensive marshy country covered with a rank growth of vegetation; the place was naturally sickly. Before getting through this marsh and mud the wagon mired down and the wagon tongue was broken and being in the rear he was left behind. Before help could be obtained and the wagon and folks got out, the Cholera made its appearance in his family, being the first of its appearance in the company. This was June 28, 1850. His Son George died before overtaking the company. That same evening his daughter, Harriet P., died. That night a very heavy thunderstorm raged. Both were buried before leaving that campground. Next morning his wife was taken sick, before the wagon was gotten out of the mud, but lived to reach Ft. Laramie. On June 20, he was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, by an elder. His wife died July 6, 1850. Nothing worthy of note 'till he arrived at Utah. Late in the fall at Provo he made the acquaintance of a Mr. Ewing, a blacksmith. Here he stayed during the winter. In the spring, a call was made for volunteers to go to Parowan Iron Co. He volunteered and went here. He fenced a farm, built a house, raised a crop and lived here three years. While here two of his oldest girls married. October 16, 1853 he started for San Bernardino, California with the remainder of his family; two boys and two girls, small. At San Bernardino he bought a farm also had a place in the city and put his children in school. Lived there 8 or 9 years. Went from there to Kansas and married Amada Cagswell. Because of the war which was then raging between the North and South he took his two daughters back to Groton, New York and left them with their aunts, Nancy Dart, Spence, Parmelis Foot and Pauline Towsey and Harriet Fortiner. The girls remained there until after the war was over. In the meantime he returned to his wife, Amanda. Here he engaged in merchandise and trade with the Union Soldiers. His son James was sent out for a load of provisions into Missouri, coming in contact with the opposite party. He was killed for a wearing a blue coat. As the boy did not return in time his father went in search and found the son had been killed. He got his team and brought the boy's body home. From here he went to Shady Bend and settled a homestead 1/4 section of land, improved it, and made a home and lived here until 6 children were born. His two daughters returned from Groton, New York and were married in Kansas. He died December 1st, 1877 at Shady Bend and was buried in Lincoln Center, Lincoln Co., Kansas. So ends the life of John Dart, greatly mourned by his family, children and wife. His daughter Josephene Amanda Green now lives there and puts flowers on his grave.
I will now continue my own sketch. After the death of our son, John Cal, we still lived here at home. Our son, Zadock Knapp Judd, Jr., returned from his mission of two years absence. In 1884 he was married to Miss Ada M. Howell January 23, 1884. This year they homesteaded a quarter section of land 160 acres and built two section houses and made a well. In due course of time our daughter, Esther, was married to John M. Ford January 22,1886. We had a new house, two stories high, built 1880. Our son Asa W. Judd was called on a mission to Europe, May 3, 1887. He started for Salt Lake City by way of St. George to Milford. We are living in a comfortable home and the city lot is covered with fruit trees, vines, and bushes, a small Lucerne patch which is our summer feed for our horses, cows, pigs, chickens and ducks. This lot is the fifth place my husband has made. Here are our children; Lucinda with her ten children and a lot covered with beautiful fruit trees and Knapp, Eli and Esther all have lots the same. Those that are married have homes of their own and land to till and raise all that can be produced in a southern climate. Here in my comfortable home I would like to stay the rest of my days if my children and grandchildren felt the same and I would like to keep those dear to me close by, but if they sought other climes, that thereby they might better their conditions in life, I should be tempted to follow, because all the comfort I can take in this or any other life will be in the company of my children and grandchildren, and my only hope is in teaching them to keep in that path that leads to truth and life eternal and to keep the Ten Commandments that the Lord gave unto Moses and all the good books teach: The Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, Pearl of Great Price, and the Bible. My parents always told their children it is better to beg than steal so I want my children to live honest, honorable and upright lives and have praying hearts and respect for themselves and all men. This I desire: all who have any claim upon me. My husband was Bishop seven of eight years and has been Sunday School Superintendent, School Trustee, Sunday School and Ward teacher the greatest part of his life. In his younger days he enlisted in the Mormon Battalion and crossed the continent with the Battalion with his pack upon his back. He also learned the Tailors trade. He now follows various trades such as cooper, carpenter, farmer, bee keeper and har-( rest of sentence incomplete in original manuscript).
In 1860 -Patriarchal Blessing by Isaac Morley, Ft. Clara, Utah.
Upon the head of Mary M. Dart Judd, born March 31st 1838, Town of Groton, Tompkins Co., N. Y. Daughter of Lucy Ann Roberts and John Dart.
Sister Mary, in the name of the Lord Jesus, I lay my hands upon thy head to seal the blessing of a father and Patriarch upon you, that the blessings of the Father may be sealed upon your heart and memory. I bless you as a mother the head of thy family, to enjoy all of the blessing in common with thy partner according to the Patriarchal order of God. Thy little ones are given thee of the Lord to the occupancy of they stewardship, cherish in thy bosom the attributes of love, fidelity, virtue and faith, in so doing, these attributes will rest upon the hearts of thy children, from generation to generation. They shall grow up as tender plants around thy table; they will be given thee in the morning of the resurrection, that the blessing of the fathers may be fulfilled upon thy head. Cherish therefore, the spirit of truth and faith in the Lord, thy God, and he shall be thy friend, he will be thy council. Through the spirit of my office and calling, in the name of Jesus, I seal thee up into Eternal lives in the name of Jesus, Amen and Amen.
On a Library
Speak low, tread softly, through these halls,
Here genius lives enshrined,
Here live in silent majesty,
The monarchs of the mind.
A mighty spirit host they come,
From every age and clime,
Shove the buried wrecks of years,
They brest the tide of time.
And in their presence chamber here,
They hold their regal state,
And round them throng a noble train,
The gifted and the great.
Oh, child of earth well round thy faith,
The storms of life arise,
And when thy brothers pass thee by,
With stern, unloving eyes,
Here shall the Poets Chant for thee,
The sweetest holiest lays.
And Prophets wait to guide thy steps
In wisdom's pleasant ways
Come with these God anointed Kings,
Be thou companions here.
And in the mighty realm of mine,
Thou shall go forth a peer.
Taken from gems of Genius, by Anne B. Lynch Botts, in poetry
Parowan, Iron Co., Utah. January 13, 1845. A blessing by Patriarch Elisha H. Groves. Upon the head of Mary M. Dart Judd; Daughter of John and Lucy Ann Roberts Dart. Born March 31st 1838. Town of Groton, Tompkins Co., New York.
Sister Mary, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, and by Power of the Holy Priesthood in me vested, I place my hands upon thy head, to bless thee with a Patriarchal and Father's Blessing. I say unto thee that inasmuch as thou desireth the blessing of the Heavenly Father to rest upon thee thou must treasure up knowledge and wisdom, keeping all the commandments of the Lord, thy God, and blessings of the most high shall rest upon thee for thou are a daughter of Abraham of the loins of Joseph, of the blood of Ephraim, descended through thy mother. Thou hast a right to the gifts and blessings, privileges, and powers which pertain to the Holy Priesthood, in common with thy husband, thou mayest assist thy husband in the ordinances of the house of the Lord to the redemption of the Dead. Thou art a mother in Israel, thy posterity shall arise after thee and administer unto thee in thy old age and shall become a blessing unto thee and thou shalt bless them. Peace shall dwell in thy habitation; thou shalt enjoy of the fruits of the earth. Thy bread shall be sure unto thee, If thou desirest with all thy heart, keeping all the commandments of the Lord, thy God, plying thy heart to wisdom and prudence thou shalt not be brought down on the grave. Thou mayest behold the winding up scene of this wicked generation, the reign of peace established upon the earth. Thou shalt receive of the spirit of prophecy when the Lord, thy God, shall pour out his Spirit upon all flesh thou shall receive thy inheritance with the sons of Ephraim in common with thy husband, being exalted and glorified with thy benefactor. Therefore, let thy heart be comforted, be thou faithful and these blessings shall be sure up to thee. I seal them upon thee to ever- lasting life in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, ever so. Amen. --Thomas A. Dowel Clerk.
A true copy of the original, copied by Esther A. Judd Ford.
A Dream
I dreamed I went to a beautiful city with lovely green shade trees on each side of the streets and snow-white houses glittering through to the streets. In the distance, I saw a Temple of God and I had a desire a great and longing desire to enter therein; so I approached the Temple and as I came near I perceived a doorkeeper standing at the door. I stepped to him requesting the favor to enter. He then spoke to me to learn if I was worthy of such a blessing. I, being worthy, passed on and inside I beheld a large number of people who sure worthy of entering. I was led on through several rooms and up a flight of stairs in. the distance. I saw as it were the vale of Eternity. I pressed forward until I could see through the other side and there I saw one of my cousins, George Roberts, sitting on a seat, his face to me and Aunt Emma with her face to him. He was talking earnestly to her and did not see me. I cast my eyes further on and there saw my Grandfather, Wm. Dart, sitting on another seat alone. His head bent over in a reflective mind. I was anxious to speak to them but they were on the other side of the Vale and I could not; when I did have the opportunity of going on through these relatives were not there and all the seats were empty. In the distance I saw stairs eight or ten steps high and on the top my Grandparents Roberts, standing looking at me and smiling. Grandmother raised her hand and beckoned me to come up those steps to the Celestial Place or door it seemed to me, but I shook my head at her as much as to say to her I could not come then. When I looked again, Grandfather and Grandmother had passed on to the Celestial City.
A Dream
I thought it was in the autumn and a very pleasant afternoon and I would go out to the harvest fields and see the grain and as I went forth I beheld a large plain or field that was most beautiful to behold. As I drew near, I saw that the grain was all cut and placed in large shocks. As I approached, the whole field of shocks of wheat rose upright and turned toward me, and all together it seemed made their bow to me. I stood in wonder and amazement to see the grain making their absence to me then I woke and, Lo!, it was a Dream.A Dream
On one beautiful night thought I would go to that beautiful city of Shady Bowers, and coming forth from the house, I closed the door behind me and stood a moment on the step. I saw some very nice, large shade trees, and thought I would stroll a little by moonlight, so I passed out of the gate and on the side-walk. I came near a shade tree, and as I neared I heard a whispered conversation and looked to see from whence it came and under the large shade trees, I saw a semi-circle of warriors. At their head was General Washington who was in earnest conversation with his men. They all were looking intently at him. He pointed; I turned my gaze and saw two or three other groups at no greater distance under other trees and it seemed to me they were a guard of our president, and the quorum of the twelve, that near in as I; house near by. The house was such a fine, large building with spires, I thought it could be none other but a temple of God. I then awoke.
A Dream
I dreamed I went to the temple and up to a large room above. I was there with many others who were calling the names of dear departed ones. I stepped to a window, which was raised and looked down to the earth. To my astonishment there was a large army of men all, gazing upwards to the windows from which I was looking out. All the men had their heads uncovered. I tried to see if any women were with them. I looked here and all sides but not one woman met my eager gaze. The men seemed as if expecting to hear their names called by those inside the Temple. I desired to see if any of my kinspeople were there, but did not see one I could recognize. Someone spoke to me and . . . are not here but there, and pointed to a large and beautiful . . . whose walls shone more splendid than the sun at noonday. . . . . could see the spires of a Temple and domes of churches shining . . . . brilliant rays of the sun. It seemed brighter than anything I had ever seen. I awoke and behold, it was only a dream.
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(This is a record that was with the manuscript. I couldn't find just where in the record it came so I am putting it at the end.)
Luke Retis Roberts, had three sons: John Benedict, Daniel Bly, and Luke. Some daughters: one Polley who married one Mr. Stevens. There was one Mr. Roberts, who lived at Benits Bridge, Ct.
Marcus Roberts, son of John B., died at Birmingham, Rieco, Ohio. Gabarel Baldwin Roberts, son of John B., died in Macon, Georgia, February 14, 1886. His home, he had two daughters: Delia, who died young, Lilian married Mr. Solomon. They have eight children. Gabarel B. Roberts first wife: Mary Ann Stiles, died. Second wife: Elisabeth Roberts, lives at Macon, Georgia.
Hosia Roberts, lived and died at Sagatoer, Conn., west of Bridgeport, Connecticut.
Permelia Roberts Foot, died October 4, 1883 at Groton, Tomkins Co., N. Y. She sent for all her kin to be at her funeral.
Arther Laning, son of Sobina Jane Towsey Laning, and Dr. Oliver Laning who died September 17, 1876, are living in her home at they took care of her in her last years. Her husband, James Foot, died years before. Polley Ann Fornum Roberts, daughter of Gillead, who was son of Peter Farnum. She died at her home at Cold Spring, Botsford, Connecticut, August 9, 1885 or 1886.
Julius Roberts and Harriet Whitlock were married September 18, 1886 in Monroe, Connecticut.
David Towsey, died at his home in McLean, N. Y., July 24, 1884, age 74 years. His wife now lives. Her name is: Polina Roberts Towsey.
Alfred Whitmore died in 1866 in Groton City, Tomkins Co., N. Y., where his family lived after his death.
Margaret, daughter of William and Emma Roberts Serine, died January 1864.
Charles Roberts, born August 3, son of Jusius and Polley Ann Roberts, lives at Hattertown. Born also David Roberts, brother of Charles lives as Southford, Conn. There are Frank and Idora Roberts, cousins five near. One Sir Marcus Lyons A. Lawier, lives in Ithaca, New York by whom Mrs. Phebe, Mr. Dart Meriman, was summoned to speak to her the last will and testament read of Permelia Foots, as were her three other sisters; Mary M. Dart Judd, Rosalae Dart Base, and Josephine A. Dart Green, as well as other relatives from Connecticut, Georgia and South Carolina.
John Wesley, brother of Hosie Roberts and Anes Sharp, were married in Monroe.
Anes was born August 10, 1790. They had three sons born in Monroe, Ct. John W. Roberts, born March 7, 1825, died May 22, 1846.
Eligah M. Roberts, born July 28, 1827, died August 12, 1841. Henry Sharp Roberts, born March 9, 1830, died June 5, 1855.
George W. Serine of Greenville is Superintendent of a coach at that place, Greenville, South Carolina.
Sidney Roberts, son of John Benedick, died at Kanosh, Millard Co., Utah, where his widow now resides at their home, Dartford, Wisconsin. Was named after Dr. Anson Dart, one of the original owners of the land. Richard Dart Esq., lives in Ripton, Fondulace Co., Wis.
Oliver Dart, Esq., lived in the same country. He is dead also. His son George W. Dart, died in May 1888.
George L. Dart, merchant, died in Peru, Indiana about 1884. He had three wives who died before himself.
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Received 28 AUG 1756 Guilford County, North Carolina, New Garden MM.
Moved 23 NOV 1811 to Greene County, Tennessee, New Hope MM.
Get Certifcate 21 JUL 1855 to Pleasant Plain MM, Iowa