year Mother came to America.
        I copy the following from the story of Brother Will and his wife, Lucy. I especially like the way they speak an describe the characteristics of my mother. "She was a beautiful girl with long black wavy hair and dark brown eyes. She was talented and loved too entertain her friends, even as a girl in England, accompanied by her sisters Mary Ann, Elizabeth, Jane, Ann Winterton and other friends in Nottingham, by singing beautiful songs or Christmas Carols. She was lively and full of fun and we can imagine how her beautiful voice would ring out in the clear evening air. She was very devoted to her religion and was anxious that her children would do right. She had a way of chastening her children with kindness. When she spoke they knew they must obey her. When she was going to have company, she would tell the children she expected them to be good." The following words I add, especially at the meal table we were told it was not polite for children to enter into conversation when the older people were talking unless they were asked. She reminded us that we should always be thankful to our Heavenly Father for the blessings we received, and when we had finished our meals, but before leaving the table we remembered to say, "Thank the Lord for my good dinner," or "supper," or whatever the meal might be. She taught us our evening prayers as we knelt around her chair or sometimes at our bedside. Then she would see that we were tucked snugly into bed. Often, if I had a bad cold, I would ask Mother if I could sleep at the foot of Mother and Father’s bed. To me, that was a wonderful privilege. I think it was my best remedy for a cold, sore throat, or any other ailment which I liked to have occasionally. I could then expect special attention. In the winter time, I liked to have an excuse to stay home from school when Mother could pay special attention to me. I liked to wipe the dishes, sweep the floor, dust the furniture and chairs and place them in order. I could always feel that I was pleasing Mother because she would tell me what a good job I had done. I liked to help Mother card wool for quilt blocks, or to hold the skeins of yarn so Mother could roll the yarn into balls, ready to knit into stockings or some other useful and warm wearing apparel. I don’t remember if Mother ever whipped one of her children. How proud I was to sing in Sunday School the first song that I remember my mother taught me. I was so small that I was stood upon the pulpit so the audience could see me. It is one of the highlights in my memory so I will here record the song:

I’ll be a little Mormon
And seek to know the ways
Which God has taught his people
In these, the latter days.
I know that He has blessed me
With mercies rich and kind
And I will strive to serve Him
With all my might and mind.
With Jesus for our standard
A sure and perfect guide
And Joseph’s wise example
What can I need beside?
I’ll strive from every evil
To keep my heart and tongue
I’ll be a little Mormon
And follow Brigham Young.

        The following was one, and I think the first recitation Mother taught to my brother Will and which he recited in Sunday School.

A jovial farmer’s boy I’ll be
As free as birds that sing.
I’ll carol forth my songs of glee,
Among the flowers of spring.
With hoop-a-hay to drive my team
Before the morning’s sun,
To drink and lave in the silvery stream
Will be my morning’s fun.
No place for me the crowded town,
With pavements hard and dry,
With lengthened streets all dusty brown,
And gloomy houses nigh.
I go and come a farmer’s boy
From city perils free,
I’ll crack my whip and whoop-ahoy,
A farmer’s boy I’ll be.

        Yes, my brother Will was just that, a jovial farmer, a good one, who loved his work. Out early in the morning, his work was the most important thing on his mind, except his home and family. No place for him in the crowded town.
        I wish here to record here a song I learned as Mother taught it to sister Sarah and Eliza:


Childhood days now pass before me,
Forms and scenes of long ago
Like a dream they hover o’er me
Calm and bright as evening glow.
Days that knew no shade of sorrow
When my young heart pure and free,
Joyful hail each coming morrow
In the cottage by the sea;
Joyful hail each coming morrow,
In the cottage, in the cottage
By the sea.
Fancy sees the rose tree twining
Round the old and rustic door,
And before the white bench shining
Where I gathered shells of yore.
Here my mother’s gentle warning,
As she took me on her knee,
And I felt again life’s morning
In the cottage by the sea.
And I feel again life’s morning,
In the cottage, in the cottage
By the sea.
What, though years have rolled before me.
Tho mid after scenes I roam,
Yet I ne’er shall cease to love thee,
Childhood’s dear and happy home.
And when life’s long day is closing,
O how happy I would be
On some faithful heart reposing
In the cottage by the sea.
On some faithful heart reposing,
In the cottage, in the cottage ,
By the sea.

        Though Father and Mother were unable to go to Sunday School, we could expect them to go to Sacrament Meeting if Mother felt able to go. If there, I always listened that I might hear my mother’s voice, a beautiful alto.
        At this time, I wish to mention the popularity of my mother and Aunt Ann Winterton after they arrived in Charleston. Father said, "They were sent for from far and near to sing at different parties and gatherings of the people of Wasatch County." He said he had hooked up his team many times to take them to Heber to sing. Sometimes someone else would furnish the conveyance.
        I remember that Sister Sophia Noakes was my first Sunday School Teacher. She taught my class our A.B.C.’s. My father and mother loved Sis-

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