February 14, 1825 at Nottingham, England.  They were married October 24, 1842.  My Grandfather would then be twenty six years old, and my Grandmother, seventeen years of age.  Grandfather was baptized January 6, 1850 and Grandmother Winterton , June 3, 1850.  They were the parents of eight children, three of whom died in infancy, the other five children later came to Utah.
        Grandfather was very active in the church in those early days and often filled appointments by going out among the people and helping to hold Cottage Meetings in company with the Mormon Missionaries.  I have often heard my father tell about his father, his brother, John and himself, walking three miles and then three miles on the return trip, in order to attend L.D.S. Meetings.
        On account of Grandmother having young children, she was deprived of attendance at church very often, except when cottage meetings were held at, or near her home.  During those years, there were none of the children that lived so near to the mother as did my father.   He was constantly with her at work, from the time he was six years old, until the time when he had to break loose from her arms as she clung to him when the Captain of the ship shouted, “All Aboard!”   The ship John J. Boyd was setting sail for New York.
        Yes, William had been her main help.  In the factory it was her job to knit stockings.  The yarn had to be put on the bobbins.  That was William’s job and Grandmother could keep on running the knitting machine.  I understand the mother and son became quite efficient in the knitting of stockings.  The steady work in the knitting factory is the main reason my father was deprived  of the privileges of school and education.  I say education, and yet he was a genius in many ways.  He had a good memory and his mind was alert.  By the time a load of grain had been sacked and weighed he had the value figured out mentally before most men could figure the value with pencil and paper.   He was an expert in estimating the acreage in a piece of land, by stepping around it.  Father was a good farmer and very particular in keeping his land clean of weeds.  People would come from far distances to buy seed grain from him.  My father was a lover of sheep and because of his careful selection during the many years, I think I am safe in saying he had the best quality sheep and the largest sheep of any herd in the surrounding country, but they were not registered sheep.  In those days, I remember, I knew of no registered sheep in our valley.  Sometimes father would buy more to his liking or to get new blood lines, but his herd was gradually improved by careful selection of his own herd, both for wool and for mutton type.    He weighed the wool and marked the ewes that produced the better fleeces so they would be kept in the herd to improve the quality of his sheep.  He wanted my brothers an I to go in the sheep business with him on a broader scale.  He said he would buy the sheep if we would herd and take care of them and take them to the winter range as did other sheep men.  I don’t know the answer my brothers gave him but I said, “Don’t buy any sheep for me to herd.   I would rather take care of cattle.”   There was no question in my mind as to whether or not the adventure would pay out financially, but I was tired of herding sheep.   Herding sheep had taken me from my home and loved ones too much in the past.  It did not give me the life I most desired.  I was not afraid of hard work on the farm.  I was happy when I could drive a team and walk behind a hand plow, run a mowing machine, or a grain binder.  I could pitch and stack hay and loved to do it.

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