History of Jensine Marie Jensen

a.k.a. Mary Jensen

[Her Story] [William's Addendum] [Tribune] [Bottom]
[Top] [William's Addendum] [Tribune] [Bottom]

Her Story


At the age of five years I started to Kindergarten School, remained there until I was seven years of age, then I started at the free school or Public School. I must not have made much success in the two years from five until seven as they put me in the first grade where I remained for one year until I was eight years of age. Then they put me in the second grade where I stayed one and a half years until I was nine and one-half years old. Then went in the third grade and stayed there six months until I was ten years old. Then skipped the fourth grade and went into the fifth. Stayed there six months until I was ten and one-half years. Then went into sixth grade where I stayed six months again. Then again six months in the seventh grade. I reached the eighth grade before I was twelve years of age and remained there until I was fourteen, when I graduated. The rules were so you could not graduate before the age of fourteen

At the age of eleven I went to work for a very rich lady until after I left school. She was very kind and good to me, and often gave me money so I had enough to support myself on.


The girls went to school in the afternoons and the boys in the forenoons, so you see, during my school days we only had from three to four hours daily, but we had wonderful schools - a different teacher for every study - one hour studies. I loved my school days. The last six months of school, that is, six months before we graduated we had to go to one of the ministers (or Priest) as they were called, to study and review our lessons once a week for six months. Then if he passed us, we had our Confirmation or Graduation day in the Church on a Sunday in April. All the boys and girls seated down the aisle of the church all dressed in Black and a little white collar and long dresses to the floor. Then the Priest in his long black robe which came to the floor and a large stiff fluted white collar would come down the aisle, and then we aIl arose to our feet. Then he would ask questions first to one, then another of the boys on one side of the aisle and the girls on the other. It was a beautiful sight, sometimes sixty or seventy graduates. Then he would give us our graduation papers, and also a little reference book which our Superintendent of schools would write in giving a brief history of our behavior and which grade we graduated from, and so forth. Sometimes they would have to graduate them from the lower grades - even as low as the third grade. They didn't all reach the sixth or seventh grade, to say nothing about the eighth, but the law compelled them to confirm or graduate them not later than fifteen years of age. Then the Priest also would write in our reference book. Then we had to take it to the Courthouse to be stamped and a large red seal put in it. Then when you went to apply for a job they would ask to see your reference book, and after living there six or twelve months, or whatever length of time you were here, they would write in it how long you had been there, and so on.

Lady Nitske

Well, I started telling you that when I was eleven years and about six weeks old I went to work for the wealthiest person in the city of Horsens. A widow by the name of True Nitske or (Lady Nitske). My real Father, Henrick Jensen had worked for her for eight and one half years before he married. Then after the babies began to come, Lady Nitske would always send her little errand girl to our house with what they called (Bassel-Mad) or confinement food for my mother, which would always be some kind of soup. Then the chicken would be browned in butter - always some kind of meat or fish, cake, wine and good eats. It was a lovely custom in Denmark. Always when a woman had a baby all her friends would bring (Bassel-Mad) which meant good things to eat, as long as the woman was sick. Some would even wait until two or three weeks after as there was always so much brought in at first. When we children got big enough so mother could take us, Lady Nitske insisted on mother bringing us to her home twice every year. I remember going there for many years, it seems before I started to be her errand girl - it was always on Market Day which we had twice a year. They were great days. It was about what we would call the Fair.

Lady Nitske was always so pleased to see Henrick's little girls, and always complimented mother, whom she called Marie, on how nice she dresses us and how clean and cute we were. She would give us each four shillings and load us down with fancy cakes and nicknacks. Oh, but they were glorious times for us, and so proud in our little hearts to be honored so much as to visit the richest lady in our city. Now you wonder what I could do to earn my own living at the age of eleven, and what in the world could there be for a little girls to do. Well, you know in those days, for it was in April, 1870, that I started out to work, now you must first be told that people had everything to do as there were no telephones to call your friends, to do your visiting, or to make appointments over, or to order groceries, meat, fish, or anything else. No electric lights or street cars. The first railroad train came into our city when I was about twelve years old. Then we didn't have the big department stores like we have here in Salt Lake City, and no deliveries. Now you can just imagine the running a little errand girl had in a wealthy home.


There were four of us to buy for and carry home - the lady and her maid, Miss Houman, who had been with her for twenty-seven years and the kitchen girl who had been with her for twenty years, and myself. Well, they had two dogs and two cats for me to feed, and sometimes a litter of kittens for me to hold in a pail of water under a broom until they croaked - gee, but I hated that. Then I had the chickens to feed and pump water for, the eggs to gather, wood and turf to gather in to burn. I cannot remember having coal. Turf was something they dug out of the ground out in the country, then they would stack it up to dry. Well, I had to carry in the fuel, keep the boxes filled, scour the knifes and forks, then every Saturday the poor beggars came, fifty or more. Also on Sunday they would come from the boop house between ll:00 and 2:00 o'clock. I would have to stay and watch and give them each a coin. Then I would have to buy the groceries at one store which was owned by the maids brother and sister. Sometimes the maid would tell me at least fifteen articles to buy, and I would ask her to please write them down, but she would say, "No, you must pay attention to what I tell you and you must remember." I have been grateful to her many times, for it certainly developed a wonderful memory for me, but it was very hard for me then. I would also go to the same place every other night after three quarts of milk. The name of the place was Houman's Grocery Store, and was a long way from Lady Nitske's home. When I got there I was two-thirds of the way to my parents home. But everybody was so kind good to me. Very often when I went for groceries Mr. Houman or his sister would pick me up and sit me on the counter and call me a little doll, as I was very small for my age and not very robust. They would often give me cakes or sweet chocolate, raisins, or prunes, or figs, or any dainties they carried in the store, and there were so many other stores. As I said, each store just carried the articles in their line. The dry goods stores handled just dry goods and as I had all the shopping to do, I would have to go and borrow their sample book of lace or ribbon or silk or satin or dress material or wool or cotton, or muslin curtains or awnings, as they had so many sample books of each article with a small piece of the goods stating the width and price. Then I would return their book and buy, or go to another store, then to the bakery, or the confectionery, or the wine store or shoe store, or book store, to dressmaker or millinery, or to the gardener for flowers or vegetables. Then when their friends were sick, to go and inquire how they were, or to buy pie plant, gooseberries or currants which the maid and kitchen girl would make into Blamonge and put in soup plates and then let it set. I had to take a dish to their friends, and then I always got good tips. Then when the soldiers came to our city the people who owned their own home had to make accommodations for one private - my parents owning their own home always had one man - but Lady Nitske being the wealthiest in the city, had to accommodate the General and his servant, also horses, so I had to go to the best hotel to order accommodations for them, then after they left the city I had to go and ask for the bill, then go back and pay it and get a receipt. When the Lady and her maid would go visiting or go for a ride I had to go to the Livery Stable to order a driver and a span of horses, as she always went in her own carriage as she had two of them. Then an hour or two before she was ready to leave, I'd have to take her fine lace cap which she always wore in the house to the place where she was going to announce her coming. Then to her garden and pick flowers, dig potatoes, pick berries for table use. Then every Sunday to the poor house to take a basket of good eats to her nephew by marriage - poor fellow, a very fine looking man, he had such a craving for drink that they no sooner got him out before the city officials would have him back again. I just can't write all, but there were Drug Stores, Doctors, Upholsterer to put up the awnings over all the windows to the street and take them down again in the fall, then engage the wash woman, two of them those days they washed by hand, not even a washboard, and pumped all the water, and many other places. Lady Nitske was a good-hearted woman, never slighting even her lowest help. She remembered them just as the rich ones always at Christmas and Holidays. I had lots of baskets to take and distribute. Her maid was good to me, giving me things, but very strict, and she seemed jealous of me, saying I was the lady's right hand, or the apple of her eye, and so on. She always kept my little bank and bought everything I had, so when the Lady paid me my wages, one mark or a sixth of a dollar, every week - for that was my wage - I would hand it to Miss Houman to put in my bank. The same with my tips, and the Lady quite often gave me money. I never knew what I had. I generally had to go to the Cemetery every two weeks during the summer to clean Mr. Nitske's grave, who had been dead twenty-seven years. So one day after I came from school I always had to go and knock at the Lady's sitting room door and ask what she wanted me to do - she said, "Nothing just now, little Marie, you go and ask Stine, "that was the name of the kitchen girl, "to give you your supper, and then come back to me." After I had eaten I went back and thanked her for my supper. I always had to go and thank her every time I had eaten. Then she gave me the key to the Cemetery lot, saying, "Little Marie, you get the rake and go out and clean Mr. Nitske's grave, and then, you may be straight home from there. It will be so much nearer for you, and you can bring the key and rake in the morning when you come to work." Miss Houman was in the kitchen. She asked me what I was going to do. I told her I didn't have to come back that evening. She threw up her hands saying she couldn't understand that at all. Saying the Lady wouldn't be able to sleep a wink all night, that it was twenty-seven years ago since Mr. Nitske died and she had always had that key with her money under lock and key in her bedroom. Well, the next morning I forgot the key and rake until I reached the Courthouse. I looked up at the big clock and it pointed five minutes to nine. I only had a block or so to go. I was tempted to run back home after them, but then I would be an hour late, as it would take me about one hour to make the trip home and back, and I had to hurry, at that, and I didn't dare to do that without permission, as I should be there at nine o'clock. When I got there Miss Houman was in the kitchen. She said, "Where is the rake and key", before I could say good morning. I told her, trembling, that I had forgotten until I reached the courthouse, but I dared not turn back without permission, but if she would be kind enough, I would run every step of the way there and back again, but she said, "No, the Lady may want you, and if you are not here I'd catch it. No, you will have to face the music yourself, and she will be so mad she will very likely fire you." I cried and pleaded, but to no avail. The Lady generally came down stairs at 11:00 a.m. Then I went in to thank her for my breakfast, shaking and trembling like a leaf, but I apologized for my forgetfulness, and ask her to please be so kind and let me go home after them and I'd run all the way, but she smiled at me and said, "Give me your little hand." She laid a large silver coin (called 8 mark) in it. That was eight weeks wages she gave me. And she said, "Little Marie, you can have this to buy some underwear or whatever you need, and you can bring the key and rake tomorrow morning." I went out all smiles instead of tears. Miss Houman and Stine were both in the kitchen. They said, "What are you so happy over?" I opened my hand with the big silver coin, saying, "Lady gave me this." Miss Houman said, "That beats anything I ever saw. You can do anything you please, you are simply her right hand. What in the world would she do without you. No other girl could have done as you have without being fired. It must be because your mother belongs to those low degraded Mormons." Well, she liked me anyway, and was pleased to put my money in my bank, and a day or two after she sent me to a dry goods store to borrow a sample book of muslin. Then she sent me to buy some, and she made me shimmies and panties by hand. There were no sewing machine for anyone except dressmakers. And they were small so you could carry them around - little hand machines. Well, Lady Nitske died on Jan. 26, 1873, before I was confirmed or graduated, which I did the following April, and Miss Houman had a beautiful black dress made over for me for graduation. She had the dressmaker come right there to the house and made me three beautiful dresses of the Lady's. We all remained at the house, and Miss Houman took charge - paid our wages, and things went on as usual until the month of June when everything was sold at auction - house and all. I worked there three years and two months then I had a lot of good cloths and a dresser and three dollars in the bank. Then I got another job where I worked three months.


In Aug. 1873, I was baptized into the Mormon Church. My mother had joined it, along with her mother, before I was born. My mother suffered lots of abuse from my father on account of this new religion which she had embraced, but I have heard my father tell his friends many, many times that he had a good wife. That if he was to get a new one every Saturday night he couldn't get a better one, if she would let those d--- Mormons alone. Mother tried to get a divorce but with her belonging to the Mormons (as in those days they were looked upon as worse than wild animals, or the lowest degraded humans on the face of the earth). The Priest told her she had fallen so low that he felt like spitting on her. She could go, but could get nothing of fathers property, and he wouldn't give her a divorce. This happened in 1858, so she suffered much for her religion, as thousands of others have done. She wanted to leave father and go with the saints to the Rocky Mountains, but she did not want to leave her children, and how to get them away and leave the city she did not know how to do without any money. In 1873 a Mormon Elder by the name of Jens Jensen came to Horsens to labor. He was a branch Elder over the local Elders in a great many cities for many miles. Mother met him and they planned together how mother could get away from father with her little brood. Mother had a brother in Copenhagen, the capital of Denmark, and twenty Danish miles from Horsens, which would make over eighty American miles. His wife had died and left him with two little boys. He was not a Mormon. Mother had some very dear friends in the city of Odeuse, fourteen Danish miles from Horsens. He bore the same name as my father, Henrick Jensen - they used to live in Horsens, and we were well acquainted. They also belonged to the Mormons, and he was boss at a big weaving factory. Elder Jens Jensen was branch Elder of that city also, so it was planned for my sister, Annie, to go there, but they told my father that my uncle in Copenhagen had sent for her t o come and keep house for him and his little boys, as his wife had died, so that was okay. My sister went to H. Jensen to board and room. They had a large family, and he gave her a job weaving unbleached muslin. A few months later they decided it was time for me to sneak away, so I also left for Odeuse without my father or anyone else knowing, so H. Jensen took in another little emigrant. He also got me a job at weaving, but I soon got discouraged. The thread broke, and I couldn't fish them through. Mr. Jensen was so good to we girls. He would often stop and help me when he saw my loom standing still and both of mine stood still most of the time, and I would cry because I couldn't weave. But he kept encouraging me saying I'd soon learn, and that there was bigger money in weaving than anything else, but I couldn't make up my mind that I could do it. I wanted to spool, that is, wind the cotton on spools for weaving, so Mr. Jensen decided to let me try that. Then I was all right. I could handle twenty bobbins or spools much easier than two looms, and I made just as much money.

Jens Jensen

After I left father became very angry, as I was his favorite. He said he could stand to see the rest go, just so I had stayed, so it was only a couple of months before mother and sister, Elizabeth, came. Then Elder Jens Jensen arranged it for mother and her three girls to live in the Mission House where we had two rooms next to the hall where the missionaries stayed when they were in the city, and where they held their meetings. Well, after that Elder J. Jensen began paying his attentions to mother, and that first Christmas in Odeuse is where I had my first thrill in love making. Pretty young, yes, but not yet fifteen, but such was the case. He was a handsome curly headed blond by the name of T.O., between twenty and twenty-one. He was also a branch Elder in or around Copenhagen. He came home for a short visit as his parents lived in Odeuse. He and my sister, Annie, and I used to go strolling and sitting around laughing and fooling as young people do when they go to the parks and enjoy each others company. After the holidays were over and he returned to his field of labor, he sent us a letter. He sent two small pieces of heather also. Mother read the letter and was very pleased, telling us to answer it, and how proud he would be if her daughters could get a good man like him. Another letter came, and in it he had written four lines in English as he was in the Copenhagen office a great deal, among the Elders and presidents from Utah, so he could speak and write very good English, but of course that meant nothing to us as we couldn't read it. Mother was very pleased again. Annie and I didn't approve of Brother Jensen for our new daddy, but mother said, "My dear children, I love Brother Jensen, and if you won't oppose me, but let me marry the man I love, I' ll never oppose you in your choice when the time comes that you want a husband." Of course we gave in, but telling her we could never call him father, but would respect him as her husband, if it was her choice. Well, as I said, she was so pleased with the two letters her daughters had received from a branch elder - he and brother Jensen held the same position in the church that one day she got the letters out of my dresser drawer and showed them to her sweetie (while we were at work at the factory), thinking he would be as proud as she was. But no, he borrowed a little book from Elder Franzen which had the interpretation of flowers, and he, himself, had an English and Danish book, so he had made out what the four lines in English meant. So poor little us, a great surprise was in store for us when we got home from work. Brother Jensen wanted to see us in the large hall. He began asking us questions concerning Branch Elder T. O., and if we had received letters from him. He handed me the little flower book and showed me a certain paragraph which he told me to read aloud. The interpretation to this little heather was - whether we are far apart or close together, our friendship or love shall never cease. Of course, Brother Jensen turned it "love", and the English he said reads "My dearest girls, I'll be home by such a time for a few days, then we will have a nice time together." Well, we had to promise to burn the letters and never write another, and be sure not to answer this last letter or he would write to our conference president, Schade, by name, and we would be cut off from the church, and he would also write to the Mission President in Copenhagen and report Branch Elder T. O. and he would be excommunicated from the church. So we didn't write, and T. O. didn't come home, and we did not meet him for over a year, when we met in Salt Lake City in 1875.


While in Odeuse my sister, Annie, picked a girl pal by the name of Sine Gydesen, The two girls got very intimate and one day they came and told me they had a long talk with President Schade, and he told them he had three wives in Huntsville, Utah. Well Annie was sixteen and a half and Sina was twenty. They thought a man who had three wives was extra good and holy, and they were going to Utah and marry President Schade. He was past fifty years of age, and had a great beard around his mouth. I called them silly and foolish - told them that there were plenty of men in the world that they could marry him if they wanted to, but I would have a man of my own, all to myself, or I wouldn't have any. Do you see how selfish I was. Well, there are lots of us in the same boat, aren't there. I was never born to live in polygamy, but I was forced into it before I was quite seventeen years of age, and as innocent as a child of eight or nine born in this country.

Mother to America

In May or June, 1874, my beloved mother and sister, Elizabeth, and Brother Jens Jensen sailed from Odeuse for America, leaving my sister, Annie, then seventeen, and myself, fifteen years of age, to work in the factory to maintain ourselves. To pay board and room rent as we went back to Henrick Jensen again, and buy the clothing and shoes we needed. We were broken-hearted kids, believe me. Our beloved mother and sister leaving us for a year or more, separated from us by great oceans and land for thousands and thousands of miles. Just imagine what people have sacrificed for their religion. I've heard many say nowadays, when I have told about the sacrifices people made in the early days, "What faith they had." "Don't you think it was poor judgment." I don't know, but I do know the saints were counseled to go to Zion, and if the whole family couldn't go to a send a child or two, or the wife and the little ones, and the father remain to earn money and come as soon as possible, and many have done it and have never met again. Talk about faith in the Gospel. Who could have more than a poor widow, to send her offspring or as my dear mother did, leaving her two eldest children - and children we were. When she kissed me good-bye, she had the impression that she would never see me again, as I was always what they called delicate - not very strong. People always distinguished Annie and I by saying the rosy faced one and the pale faced one, as I never showed any signs of being overheated no matter how hard I played - you would never see color in my face.

Mother on North Sea

My mother and Brother Jensen were married on the North Sea between Copenhagen and England. On that sea they had a very rough voyage. In those days they always crossed that sea in three days and nights, but this time it took them four days and nights. The sea was very rough, and the ship was loaded too heavy for the storm. They had eight hundred Mormon emigrants on board, two or three hundred big fat hogs, besides lots of freight. Everybody on board was sea sick, even the Captain and the crew. The Captain said he had never encountered such a storm in all the years he had sailed the high seas. On this voyage his faith was shown. They had to through all the hogs overboard to lighten the load in the storm, but he clung to his faith, saying they would get through all right as he was carrying Mormon emigrants, and he never had known a ship to go under which was carrying them.

Carl Nielson

Here I will introduce another young branch elder from Copenhagen by the name of Carl Nielson, who was very considerate and good to the sick and aged, and he could also speak fairly good English. He would go to the kitchen and get on the good side of the cooks, and would get food for the sick and old, for in those days the Mormon emigrants would come as third class - the same as animals - and not get nearly enough to eat. I can't remember what we got for breakfast, but for dinner the crew would come with large bags hanging around their necks filled with potatoes boiled with the skins on. They would come down each of the great long aisles, and we would stand like so many hungry wolves. They would give us each a good sized potato, or two small ones, but as soon as we were served we would try to sneak into another row to get another helping. Sometimes we could do that, but they watched us pretty close. We would generally get a little piece of salt meat or fish boiled, and at night we would get a sea biscuit the size of a saucer and as hard as a rock. But one good thing about it was that it took so long to chew it that we imagined we were getting a good square meal by the time we got through, for our jaws would ache biting and chewing so long, and we felt quite satisfied and couldn't have eaten another if we had to. Of course, we could get a cup of water to wet it in. There were some who either had a little more brains or a little more money, or both, who had a chunk of cheese and a few loaves of rye bread, which would hold out for a long time along with our rations, and a jar of butter, but we weren't among those fortunate ones, so we had to go hungry most of the time. But, thank God, for the past twenty years or more the emigrants have come as second class. They are not allowed to bring human beings like cattle any more to starve for weeks. Mrs. Jasperson of Heber was among the fortunate ones. She had butter, bread, cheese and sausage. She came on the same ship as my mother, and I have often heard my mother tell about how sick and hungry she was, and about Mrs. Jasperson, on several occasions, giving her a slice of bread and butter and cheese, and oh, how good it was. Nobody can imagine or form the slightest idea, and I doubt very much about very many who read this, that they will even believe what I am writing, but it is the God's truth. People were more humble, and shall I say ignorant, and easier to lead than they are today. If it came to testing the faith of people today as the early Mormons had theirs tested, I dare say many would balk.

Mother in America

Well, my parents and youngest sister arrived in Utah all okay, and settled in West Jordan. President Schade of our conference also sailed on the same ship as my mother, and President Gertsen took his place. He and my mother were raised and went to school together in the same little country town by the name of Wherring, Denmark, and he told Annie and I that Brother Jensen had married our mother expecting to marry her daughters also. We couldn't believe that, but, however, his statement came true in time. Mother was sixteen years his senior to the day, both being born July l9th.

Trip to America

We children did not have to wait a year as some of mothers friends from Parowan sent money for her emigration, not knowing she had already emigrated with what was called the first emigration, so my sister, Annie, and I came with the last emigration from Odeuse three months after mother had left. We left on Aug. 25, 1874 at 4:00 p.m., along with a few other passengers, but not a soul knew. Just imagine two kiddies like us starting out on such a journey The boat or sailing vessel had not gone far from land when I got sea-sick. there were three fat steers on the boat and just a wooden picket fence between their heels and where I fell, and lay there until nearly six o'clock the next morning. I was so deathly sick, laying there on the bare floor vomiting and almost straining my life out. I couldn't raise my head - not a pillow or a mat under me, and everybody saying, "Just as well throw that child out in the sea first as last, for she will never live to see Utah." And just imagine my poor little sister pulling and tugging at me trying to drag me away from the heels of the cattle, scared to death that they would kick and kill me. But I was too sick to care, or even to think, so I lay there at the heels of the cattle on the rough dirty floor from five p.m. until the next morning when we got close to land. Then my seasickness began wearing off. We reached Copenhagen between 6:00 and 7:00 a.m., Aug. 24th, and remained there a day and night when the Mormon emigrants from Norway and Sweden joined us. The day we spent in sightseeing, visiting Torvalsens Museum, and other beautiful places in the beautiful city of Denmark's Copenhagen - it's capital. When we started on the North Sea. It took us three days and nights to cross it. We landed at Hull, England, and took the train for Liverpool. We had to go through long tunnels, and I remember being frightened almost out of my senses. It took us over thirty minutes to go through some, and I thought we would never see light again. While standing around waiting for the baggage men to haul all those trunks, bedding and luggage off the ship to the train, and off the train again into the big ocean liner, I could not for the life of me imagine how they could understand each other, but now I understand. I was only a child then with the understanding of a child. Children raised in large cities in Denmark were very innocent. Then we left Liverpool, got on board the great large ship, and started across the Atlantic Ocean, which took us fourteen days to cross, and nearly all the time we saw nothing but the great ship with its load plowing through the great waters, and the blue sky above you. During the days when the weather was fair we would be permitted under the life saving boats which were lashed all around the edge of the giant steamer to be in the shade of the scorching sun. The top deck was flat with an iron railing all around. We were a long way up above the water, and it was beautiful to stand by the railing looking down on the great massive water below us. There was kind of a longing lonely feeling attached to it, but when the sea was rough we were supposed to stay in our own quarters where we belonged. That was way down at the bottom of the ship. As I told you, we came as third class, the same as animals, so we were down in the dungeon (you might call it) like a great long loft in a barn only so much larger than anyone can comprehend who hasn't been there, with two long narrow tables and benches on each side of the tables, so that made four benches, all stationary - nailed solid. Then at the side was our bunks, just rough lumber nailed up like big square boxes on above the other. Three or four could lay side by side. The older people generally occupied the lower bunks, and the younger ones had to step on the lower ones and crawl up in the top ones. Oh no, we didn't have springs or mattresses to lie on. Some had their feather beds, but even they got awfully hard. We had to furnish our own bedding, but were advised not to take anything we did not absolutely have to have as we were pretty much all poor, and could not afford to pay excess baggage charges, and of course, when we got to Utah everything would be fine and dandy. At meal times after we got our ration, as I have said, we had to stand in rows to get our allotment, but then we would go to the tables and eat like real human beings. Sometimes the ship would start rocking like a cradle from one side to the other, and if we were at the table eating, we would often tip over backwards and go on the floor, as there was no backs to our benches, to say nothing about rocking chairs or upholstered cushions. Our potato, tin plates, and cups would also go rolling, and for the scramble to catch them. For believe me, we were hungry. We would have been thankful to eat what people throw out. Well, I remember one day I was going up on the middle deck. The sea was rough so we were not permitted on the top deck or it would surely have been the last of us, as the ship rolled from side to side, laying on one side and then the other. Of course, they had trap doors fastened down tight so the water could not get into the ship. The middle deck was where the first and second class passengers lived like human beings in nicely furnished rooms or apartments. The kitchens were on that floor also, and there were great long aisles for us to go through after we climbed a ladder from our quarters to get to the middle deck, or what they called the middle deck, which was like a great large room. I came through one of those long aisles which was like a long narrow hall with doors all the way leading into the rooms and kitchens. The hall, or aisle, was narrow just so two could pass each other. When I got to the end I stood there bracing myself and watching a poor elderly lady roll from one side of the ship to the other, and quite a number of the crew trying their best to catch her. The dear old lady was crying for help, but the ship rolled so that not even the crew dared let go of their holding. She rolled back and forth several times before some of the crew finally rescued her.

In America

After two weeks on the ocean, we landed in New York all safe and sound. Not even I was thrown overboard as so many predicted I would be. We were on the train eight or nine days and nights from New York to Salt Lake City, Utah, sitting straight up in our seats unless we leaned on each other or lay in each other's lap, as there were two in each seat and just the straw or wicker seats. We couldn't even get hold of a pillow. We landed in Salt Lake City on Sept. 24, 1874. This is the way I came to Utah, but the many poor dear souls who came many years before me surely had hard times. Peace and blessings be unto their memories, for they deserve all they will ever get. My father as I have said was a missionary, and when released to emigrate to Utah, he brought his bride - my mother - with him. He also brought a little eighteen month old boy with him. The mother of the child belonged to the church, and wanted Brother Jensen to take her child and care for it until she could earn enough money to bring her to Zion, but she never did come to Utah, or at least, never found her baby boy. Father and mother had him for a few years, but were so poor that it was hard to get enough to eat, so by this time brother Rasmus Miller and his bride came to Heber and decided they would like the little fellow. They had him a few years, but by this time they had children of there own, and plenty of poverty, so they gave him to Phil Smith who then lived on the Midway lane just west of the railroad track. His name was Christian, but the Smith's gave him the name of Charlie Smith.

Isn't this Zion?

When our train stopped in Salt Lake, our little sister, Elizabeth, and father were there to meet us. We remained in the city that night, and the next morning when we were going to the depot, we met a man smoking a cigar. I wasn't prepared for that as we had been taught that Zion was perfection and all good. Of course, I was only a child, just fifteen years and six months, so I was dumbfounded, and I called to Brother Jensen, not yet calling him father. He and Elizabeth were walking ahead of Annie and I, and I said, "Isn't this Zion ?" "Yes, my girl, " he said. "But that man was smoking." When the train stopped at West Jordan and the four of us stepped off, my mother who lived only a short distance from the depot was outside watching anxiously to see how many little girls she had get off the train, as she had been impressed even before she left Denmark that she would never see me again. So you can imagine her joy when she saw all of us. She was so overjoyed that she burst out weeping and knelt down and thanked God. What some people haven't passed through for their religion isn't worth mentioning, and just think what a responsibility and loneliness for poor Annie if Marie had died and not a relative to comfort her, but all alone. Well, I didn't die, but if I had it surely would have saved me from lots of trouble, sorrow, and heart ache which I have had to pass through. But I thank God with all my heart that he has given me strength to endure it. Thank God, I say again and again, for I have stood alone and the head of quite a little family.

Brigham Canyon

We lived at West Jordan a little while. Then we moved up to Brigham Canyon where they were building a railroad, and father got work there. We lived in a two room house - lumber shack - built on the side of the mountain. Then we started taking boarders, so one evening little sister went to the door to see if she could see father coming. Then she came to mother and said, "Oh mother, come and see, father is bringing that young branch elder from Copenhagen who was so good on the ship to all the sick people, and whom everybody liked so much." Mother was very pleased when she heard he was going to board and room at our house, and father was proud to introduce his two oldest daughters to him, but the joy was of short duration. Now you wonder where in the world he would sleep when he roomed there and we only had two rooms. That was easy in those days. In one room was a bed where our parents slept. Then a straw mattress lying on the floor where we three girls slept. In the other room was a cook stove, some lumber nailed together to serve as a cupboard, two or three chairs, one long table, and two long benches on each side of the table for the men to sit on. We had sixteen or seventeen boarders, and four of them roomed there at night. They would throw their bedding on the floor. Carl Neilsen was one of our roomers, a very attractive young man. He and we girls would sing, laugh, and play together, and little mother would say, if my girls can get a man like him, I would be so happy. He is wonderful. Everybody on the ship thought the world of him. He was so good to all the sea-sick and elderly people. Everything was just fine and dandy, and we all enjoyed him so much. He was pleasant and full of life, but one evening after supper he committed the unpardonable sin. Father and mother had gone in our bedroom and were sitting on the side of the bed with the door ajar so they could hear and watch there two oldest daughters while washing the dishes, and Carl Nielson was talking with us, saying, "Sister Annie, if you will give me that little silver ring, I'll give you and Marie each a gold ring." That was the unpardonable sin. Father called, "Annie and Marie, come right in here." The next day Carl Neilsen was discharged from our home, which made it pretty dull and lonesome for us kids. He used to go out with us to play in the snow and throw snowballs, and in the house he would get our Hymn Books and sit and sing praises to the Lord, and mother would often repeat, "I hope my girls can get a good man such as Carl Neilsen when the time comes for them to marry. Oh he is wonderful, and I will never put straw in your way." But she had said the same when T. Orlob used to write to us in our native land - Odeuse - but our happiness was always of short duration, for as soon as father J. Jensen noticed any attention paid to his daughters, he would mighty soon put a stop to the circus for fear we might have a little fun. One Saturday afternoon Father and I went down to Salt Lake City to but a supply of groceries, and I had to go back alone from West Jordan. As father worked on the railroad, we didn't have to pay, but I couldn't speak the English languages and I had to have a pass work, so when the conductor came for my ticket, I had to say, "My father works on the railroad." If he questioned me, I should say, "I don't understand." As soon as I was on the train I kept repeating the sentences, saying, "Me fathe work railroad,- and "I don don-er-stand" until it got so muddled up I couldn't say anything but Danish. However, the conductor was a good scout and probably felt sorry for me, and let me stay on the train up the canyon.


After we left Brigham Canyon, we moved to Cottonwood. This was where Bro. Jensen felt his duty to go into polygamy, so one morning I noticed mother sorely depressed, and my sister Annie, looking very serious. I put my arms around my mother and asked her what was wrong. She did not wish to tell me, but started to cry. I then said, "Mother, what is the matter? Isn't father good to you? If he isn't I will certainly say something to him." But mother said, "Yes my dear girl, your father is good to me and to all of us with what little means we have." "Well, then, mother, what are you crying about?" Then she told me, she said, "You know our religion is right, and your father feels it is his duty to take another wife, and he has told me to ask Annie to be his second wife." I thought to myself - so this is where President Gertsen's promise is being fulfilled. He had married mother to get her also. Well, I was horrified. I started in astonishment, then turned to Annie, saying, "You don't want him to break mother's heart." Then I turned to mother and said, "mother, you don't want him to marry Annie, do you, or you wouldn't be crying." Well my dear girl, you know if he must have another wife, which is his duty, I think I can get along better with my own children than I could with strangers. "Who told him to marry another woman?" "He knows his duty, and the Lord requires it of him," my mother said. "Do you believe that mother?, I don't." The Lord doesn't want a man to marry a lot of women. Why, he can't even support one, and he is still owing for our emigration. No, I don't believe anything of the kind, and I wouldn't have him, so he doesn't need to ask me, for it will be plain 'No!' Annie, you surly don't want him." She said, "No, I never want him." So we got out of that scrape, but there were plenty of others waiting.

Salt Lake City

Then they decided it was time for Annie and I to go to Salt Lake City to work, as there wasn't much doing in the country, and nothing for it. Father told us if we would give him our money which we earned, then he would buy our cloths - that we needed - and then we would always have a home to come to if we were sick or not able to get work. If we refused his offer, then we would have to do the best we could. Of course we accepted his offer. We couldn't speak English, so it looked rather dark for a couple of kids fifteen and seventeen years of age to be turned out. Father took us to Salt Lake City. Annie got a place at Culmers in the 20th Ward, and I got a place in the 7th Ward at $3.00 a week. Us not being able to understand or speak the language must have been very trying for the housewife as well as for us kids. She would tell us then point or take us by the arm and lead us to what she wanted us to do. One time the husband brought yeast home to mix bread, and set it on the kitchen table with the dirty dishes. I didn't know what it was so I threw it out and got my dishes put away. The Mrs. came to mix the bread, as I hadn't learned how, and she began talking, and poor little me stood like a dumb bell, then she got the little pail where the yeast had been and pointed in it. Then I knew I had done something which I shouldn't. I went to the door and showed her that it was in the pig bucket. Oh, she was mad, and saying something, left the kitchen slamming the doors behind her - and this little fifteen year old boob crying in the kitchen to think that I had come to a country where I couldn't understand people. I felt like an outcast. I never ate at the table with them. After they had eaten and left the dinning room, she would step to the kitchen door and tell me to come and eat. Well, I didn't like it because it was so lonely. So when father came one day to see how we were getting along and get our money, I told him my troubles - that I didn't want to stay there and wished I could go up close to where Annie was. It was such a long way, and no street cars in those days. Those days it was easy for a Scandinavian or German to get work. They had the name of being good workers. My Mrs. felt badly and begged me to stay, but I was tired of that place, so I got a place in the 20th Ward at a Mrs. John Daynes for $2.00 a week, but I liked it much better, and it was only three blocks from where Annie was, so we could see each other oftener in the afternoons. Annie had a lovely place and another time father came to see us and get a little more cash, Annie told him her Mrs. was going to take her to the theater.

Aunt Annie and the Theater

We know you are all curious to know what happened when Aunt Annie was invited to go to the theater, but she tells us that when her father came and she told him how good the lady was to her, and that she was going to take her to the theater and also other places, as she was a young woman with just one child and had a horse and buggy, their father soon put a stop to that by taking she and mother out to Heber where the family had moved since the girls went to work. This was a great disappointment to Annie and Marie, because Annie says they were having a nice time and there were some young missionaries there whom they had known in Denmark who were helping to entertain them. Their father seemed to think they were having more fun than was good for them, and when he said a thing they had to obey, so they had to move to Heber.


The first Fall they were there, Annie says, they picked potatoes and used to glean in the fields for wheat. Then Marie went to work in the home of Abraham Hatch, President of Wasatch Stake at the time and Annie also went out to do housework. She says her first job after she came to Heber was at the home of Ephriam Smith. At that time the Smith family lived across the road west from the Todd home. When they came out here they were lonely, of course, and wished that they could go to a dance. Then, without them knowing anything about it, their father arranged with Joseph Moulton to come and take them to a dance. Annie says she doesn't remember so much about what happened from there on, but anyway, she and Marie were married to Joseph Moulton on the 28th of Feb. 1876, and lived together in the same home for a number of years and got along fine together.

It is said that their father sold them to Joseph Moulton for the payment of his milk bill although the family does not talk about that very much.

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The following written by William A. Moulton:


My first remembrance of mother and our home was when I was very young. We lived in a small rough lumber house in Heber City, Utah, together with mother's sister, Aunt Annie, who was also my father's wife. His house had one large room where Aunt Annie and mother lived with their children. We all ate together, and mother and Aunt Annie did their work together. At night mother had one room over the one in which we lived, where we would sleep, while Aunt Annie had two very small rooms down stairs in which to sleep with her children. While we lived here mother had six children born, one of which died. Aunt Annie had five children born, two of which died. Mother and her sister, Annie, had two or three cows to feed, water, milk, and care for, also a few pigs and chickens. In those days we had very little coal, if any, but wood to burn. This was a hard job for mother and Aunt Annie to dig the wood out of the deep snow in the winter and cut it up for the stove. When the cows were milked, the milk was put away in pans, and after the cream would come to the top of the pans, it was skimmed off and put into a churn where it often took hours to churn it into butter. We were very poor so we were fed skim milk along with bread and mush. We also had some meat and a little honey or molasses, but very little fresh fruit. I never saw an orange or banana in our home at any time. While I am writing this in the years of 1933 and 1934, with the depression on the people talking hard times every where, I am sure there were few who are going through nearly as hard a time as my mother went through. In those days the snow would get several feet deep in the winter, and there was no such thing as the waterworks as we now have, and very few wells. The streams would freeze over, and there would have to be holes cut in the ice so we might get water for the stock and house use. This was a big job on wash day for our tubs were made of heavy wood, also the buckets, and the snow was deep, with no one to make paths. Mother and Aunt Annie surely had hard work carrying these heavy tubs and buckets through the deep snow, and they would often fall and spill the water when only part of the way home, and then they would have to back and try it over again, and it was quite a distance to carry the water. While we lived here mother did all she could to help father with his farm work, and drove one of father's teams with a load of hay from fields several miles away many times, while father drove the other team. She loaded and stacked the hay, while her sister, Annie, cared for the house and children. Mother was always a willing worker, always ready to help all she could, and she was a natural leader. She was very handy at almost anything she tried. She would help all she could at the farm. Then she would make her own soap, wash the wool, cord the bats, dye and spin the yarn ready for weaving; make her own carpets, rugs, and all our clothing. She would knit our mittens or gloves and our stockings. She also made lace and booties for babies. She was a splendid sewer and made a living for many years for herself and children at dressmaking. Mother made friends wherever she went, and was loved and admired by everyone who knew her. She took an active part in church affairs, and was a good mixer, and made friends easily. Just before my seventeenth birthday, father moved mother on the farm south of town into the old home of his first wife, as he had built her a new six room house a little closer to town. This old home was built of rough lumber, and had three rooms downstairs and one upstairs. This was much better for all of us, as it gave Aunt Annie a home for herself and children, as well as mother. That spring I drove one of fathers teams each day, all day long, on the plow, while my half brother, John then nine years old, held the plow. This was quite a job for two little boys, and I still remember how sore my feet got, as my shoes were full of holes and the rocks and clods would get in my shoes and hurt me feet. Mother would doctor them up the best she could, and feel so sorry for my skinned toes and heels. But she knew very well how necessary it was that we all worked as father had such a large family. No man ever had a wife who tried harder than my mother to do all in her power at all times to help her family. Most of father's stock was kept on this farm where mother lived, and the barn and stock was some distance from the house. A stream of water covered with willows and trees ran between the house and barn. This stream made a splendid camping place in the summer for the Indians, and quite often the men, or buck Indians, would find a little whisky and have a regular pow wow all night. On these occasions when mother was alone, she would often get very little sleep, but would keep going back and forth from the house to the barn watching for fear the Indians might set fire to the barn or steal the stock. While we lived here on the farm, mother cooked dinner every other day in the summer for father and all of Aunt Lizzie's children who were old enough to work on the farm, then Aunt Lizzie would prepare dinner the next day. Mother also had her cows, pigs, and chickens to care for, wood to cut, and so on, but it was not quite so hard for her as some of her children were getting large enough to help some. While we were here mother had another child, so there was always plenty of good hard work for her to do; about this time father bought a hay bailer and in order to run this, he took me to drive the horses part of the time, and my sister, Josie, to help my half brother, Joe, with the wiring of the bails of hay. This, of course, was much harder on mother as her oldest help in the house was then only seven years old. But mother was always willing to sacrifice in any way to help father and the family. While here she also raised a few flower seeds, gathered them, thrashed them out, put them in papers, and sold them at the store for a few things needed at home. Here she also took the agency for a washing machine which sold for five dollars. This machine was the first on the market I ever saw. It was all hard work, but she would go out and canvass, and make arrangements to help someone put out their washing on wash day. This was very hard work for her as she would do most of it herself, but it made her quite a few dollars which she always took right into the home to help clothe and feed the family. She also had a large patch of red currants. It was work to pick them, but those she didn't have sale for she would make them into jelly. She had a ready sale in Park City for all the jelly she could make. She always thought of her loved ones first, then, if there was anything left, that was okay with her, but her children were always first. In those days mother was never idle as she always made her own quilts, did her own patching, mending, and so forth, along with all the work on the farm. I have gone with her many times to gather a little wool off the fences or willows where the sheep would lose it. No task was too big or to small for her if it helped the family. While we were here on the farm often the streams would go dry in the winter. Then the stock had to be taken a mile to town to water them, and mother would gather snow to melt on the stove for use in the house. How little we appreciate the comforts of life as we have it today, and what our poor mothers had to do, as there were no electric lights then, but candles or lamps. Often mother would have us in the house when it was so dark we could hardly see, but we must not light the lamp or candle for awhile yet, as it cost money to burn a light and mother had very little money, so we must be very careful and economic.

Hiding from the Law

While here on the farm, father's second wife and mother's sister, Annie who was then living in town, had a nervous breakdown. This was brought on through sickness, work, and worry. As you know, the United States officers were rounding up every man in polygamy whom they could find, and putting them in the penitentiary. Many times when I was just a few years old, I would wake up in some good friends home. They were good friends of my parents, and when these friends would hear of the marshals in town, our friends would carry us to their homes and hide us until the marshals left town. These were bad times, both for the parents and the children. It was just such trying times as these that brought on poor Aunt Annie's sickness. Aunt Annie had a young baby whom father's first wife, Aunt Lizzie, took, and she also took her oldest girl, while mother took her other two children to care for while Aunt Annie was in the hospital. It was during this time that father went into Old Mexico to escape the officers. You who read this will understand that father had three wives. The law only recognized the first wife, while the Latter Day Saints Church, or Mormon Church, as it is commonly called, seconded plural marriage, or polygamy, at that time.

Father in Old Mexico

After father's arrival in Old Mexico, he sent for his families. He had divided his property, and Mother's land and home was sold and the money used to go to Old Mexico. In selling mother's property it was understood that father was to have all the property back in his name when we got to Mexico. So we bid good-bye to our old home in Heber City, Utah, to go and make a new home in another country, leaving all our loved ones except the family. Also leaving the old home on the farm where I had spent the three happiest years of my life, for I liked it much better on the old farm than I ever had in town where I was born.

To Old Mexico

On April 16, 1891, we left our dear old home for Provo by team. This was a distance of about thirty miles through a canyon. On this trip were three of our teams which we were taking to Mexico. Uncle Heber and Uncle Charlie Moulton, two of father's brother 's, Charles Giles, Aunt Lizzie's brother, and Johnathan Duke, all with their teams, were there. Also William A. Smith with his team as he was going to Mexico with us, as he was father's son-in-law. When we were part way through the canyon we came to a large snow slide, where we had a hard time getting over as we had to put four to six horses on a wagon and they would waller [wallow] in the snow until we finally got over. Mother, of course, had her share in taking care of the babies and helping as best she could. We reached Provo about eleven o'clock that night all tired out, and slept at the depot. That is, we children did but I don't think mother and the older ones got much rest. The next morning we began loading our car and in the afternoon said good-bye to those who had helped us to Provo, and mother's sister, mother and step father. Our car was the last one on the train, and how well do I remember mother standing at the back door of the car crying and waving to her loved ones as long as she could see them, for little did she think she would see them for many years, maybe never. But she had married into polygamy and was willing to do her duty, and if she could not live in Utah with the man she had married and who was the father of her children, then she would go to the end of the earth, if necessary, that she might live in peace with her husband and children. Mother perhaps was not the type of woman to best live in plural marriage as she was a natural leader, had a keen mind with wonderful foresight. She was a brilliant business woman in every sense, one who knew right from wrong. She was always more than willing to do her part and would give her last drop of blood for those she loved. However, she was not one who could be run over or trampled on if she knew she was right. She was a willing worker, and worked far too hard for she was very small and not too strong, but no one ever saw her shrink her duty or throw the responsibility to others. No, she would work her fingers off first. She could not ask for help - she would work herself to death first. She loved amusement very much but work came first always, then play. A kind word was worth much to her. She knew the duty of a wife and mother and no one ever filled that place better than she. It was for this very purpose that she went into Old Mexico where the great sorrow of her life began.

In Old Mexico

We arrived in Deming, New Mexico okay, and father was there to meet us. After a short stay at Deming we started for Dublan, Old Mexico, with Uncle Willard Carroll who had come out to Deming to meet us with his team. It was two hundred miles from Deming to Dublan. On this trip we had to haul water in barrels on our wagons as it was a barren desert we must cross. While on this trip Aunt Annie's baby, whom Aunt Lizzie had, became ill for lack of food. As we traveled along, sometimes we had to keep a young colt away from its mother during the day that we might get a little milk for the baby. But the baby finally became so sick that we were forced to stop. Mother and Aunt Lizzie would care for the baby as best they could in a covered wagon, but the baby finally died and was laid to rest at Deaas, Old Mexico. The death of Aunt Annie's baby caused mother many heart aches as she knew how her poor sister would feel when she recovered from her sickness to find her baby dead and buried, perhaps, where she would never see his grave.

Near drowning

While on this trip it is only a miracle that Aunt Annie did not lose her other boy, and mother her oldest son, as one day while we were in bathing and no one was around who could swim, Lyman, Aunties boy, got in a very deep pool in the river by mistake. When he sank twice and there was no one who could help, I just took a chance and jumped in after him, gave him a pull, and in some way reached the shore where we were helped out, as none of us could swim. Perhaps this was a foolish thing to do, but when one loves a brother as I did him, you will just take a chance. Anyway, we are both still here and have never been drowned yet.

Hard Times

On this trip there was plenty of work for mother. Lots of us to cook and care for at all times, beds to make on the ground and gather up in the morning. When we reached Dublan we put up two small tents, one for Aunt Lizzie and one for mother. Then we made a house of mud. This house had two rooms, one outside door, and mud floor. I raked up some dry grass on the prairie and this was put on the roof and covered with dirt or mud, but it was home for us.

Father back to Utah

Will Smith, who was married to Aunt Lizzie's oldest daughter, became discouraged and went back to Utah. In a short time Aunt Lizzie, who still had her home and farm at Heber City, decided to go back to Utah also. So father and I took the first family out to Deming, New Mexico by team. Here they took the train back to Utah. As you know, Aunt Lizzie had two grown sons, while mother had a girl thirteen years old and the oldest boy was ten. I drove one of father's teams back to Old Mexico with father. Here we lived a short time. Then father made up his mind to go to Utah to see the first families so we loaded a wagon with the things he thought he could use in Utah. I can still see him driving away at evening, with a bay and black hitched to the wagon, and a sorrel and gray tied behind. We were all standing watching him as far as we could see him, and it seemed so lonely there. It seemed to me like something was passing out of our lives, and it surely was. Sometime later when mother was about to become a mother for the eighth time, father returned to us in Old Mexico. He was very discouraged with everything and did not seem like our father who used to sing pretty songs, often alone and often with mother. Sorrow and disappointment had entered his heart. He could not give up his first family, and they would not stay in Mexico.

More Hard Times

There were no doctors or nurses in our town, so mother was alone with father when her last baby was born. Then the day the baby was three weeks old, father left for Utah once more. This time he took two of mother's children, and two of Aunt Annie's, as we were all to follow soon. This was another trip out to Deming, for me. We were to get a young man in town to go with me, as father said promised mother. When Father did not stop I began to worry, but father said he would find someone out there to come back with me, as I was only eleven years old. On this trip we walked in the hot sand. Quite a lot of our horses were so poor they could hardly pull a wagon. When we reached Deming, Father bought some white bread, a pail of lard, and a little salt. This was the best meal I have ever eaten - we were so starved in Old Mexico. There was a drought the year we were in Mexico, and very little was grown. In fact we had no garden at all and no fruits. However, we took in a big supply of dry foods such as sugar, rice, sego, beans, and other things, and used these to complete our diet. We had a little syrup, made of brown sugar, corn bread, and very little else, but mother always made the best of it, and in some way kept us alive. We gathered buffalo chips on the prairie to burn part of the time. But on one occasion while father was in Utah, our good bishop, a Brother Farrer, as we called him, came to our house to tell mother that they were going for wood, and they would take me along to get some wood for us. We went into the mountains and were gone three or four days. They got my load of wood for me, with what little I could do, and mother was quite proud of her little man when he drove in with a load of wood for her, for I was then eleven years old. But in a few days some Mexicans came and were going to put us in jail, for it seems we had got the wood on their land, although we knew nothing of it at the time. However, in some way mother, along with the others, raised a little money, paid it to the Mexicans, and kept us out of jail.

In Deming

We now must turn these pages back to Deming, where I had gone to take father and the children as they were on their way back to Utah. On the morning after our arrival in Deming, father tried in vain to get one of our horses on his feet, but the poor thing was so lame and tired that it was impossible to get him up. So father went and hired a man to come with his teams hitched them to our wagons and got our things to the train. They had to hurry as the train was about ready to leave. Father got the children on board the train, and without one comforting word to me, or any advice whatever, he made for the train as it was then moving. I had not one penny, so for the first, and only time, in my life, I asked him for some and he gave me a dollar. I knew no one and was two hundred miles from home and mother, with one horse unable to get on his feet. Perhaps I was a big boob or bawl baby for I began to cry, and a good kind-hearten blacksmith saw and heard me. He, of course, must know my trouble, and when I told him he went with me to my team. I cannot write the awful language he used, but nevertheless he was a real friend to me, and said I would never go over that road alone if I never got home. He said I would only get lost and perish. I suppose I would for I was only eleven. He took care of my team, fed and watered them three or four times each day, and when I was ready to go back he put new shoes on them, filled my wagon with hay that I was to take twenty miles out on the road back home, but he had marked some hay that I was to keep for my team. I had helped him what little I could in his shop, and he said the hauling of the hay paid the bill. I have since heard that father had made arrangements with a Mr. Young who was at Deming for me to go back with him. This, no doubt, is true, although, I have never learned yet whether he did or not. But whether he did or not, I went back with Mr. Young. The point I am trying to bring out is this - that I knew nothing of how I was to get back, nor did my poor mother, so you can well imagine her joy when I drove in at about eleven o'clock one night - one week late, but safe and sound. Mother of course, had learned of father being to Deming without anyone to come back with me, and as she could get no word as to what had been done, you, who have a mother's love as strong as she had, can well imagine her worry over her boy. I do not mention these things to find fault with my father for he was a mighty good man and kind father. He was not mean with either his wives or his children, and he had good habits and was honest and clean in all things. The Moulton family to which father belongs is a very splendid family, know wherever they go for their honesty and character building. I only wish we could write the life history for mother which she herself could not finish, without mention of father - but that is impossible. And may those who read these pages in the years to come know that we, the children of Mary Jensen Moulton, have no quarrel to pick with our father or anyone else. But while our mother has suffered much through the mistakes that have been made, we, the children, have also suffered. But let us not be too hasty to judge others, for while we feel that our beloved mother had far more than her share of trouble and sorrow, and that our family were put aside to struggle along as best we could - forcing mother to be both mother and father to we children - yet theses hard times only made us love each other better. If our father was weak in some things he was strong in others, and may God bless him for the good he has done. I remained in Old Mexico with mother and the children. Then we left Dublan for Utah. Mr. Edison Porter and his wife took us to Deming where we took the train for Payson, Utah. We reached Salem, Utah Sept 29, 1892, and there we remained for one year. Then we left for Heber City on Sept. 1893.

Back to Utah

On our arrival at Payson, we were met by mother's step-father, he had a one horse light wagon which easily hauled the family and our earthly belongings. We moved in two very small rooms and paid about one and a half dollars each month for rent. We had no furniture, but slept on the floor at night in a large family bed which was rolled up during the day in a large canvas by one side of the room and served for us to sit on. While here we gathered some of the branches off an apple orchard, which was given us for fuel. I also went with a good friend who had a horse and wagon several times to get a load of sage brush which we also used to burn. My sister and I got work the following spring in the beet fields. We received twenty five cents per day, for our work, which mother was very thankful to get. I later got steady work on a farm for thirty cents per day and my dinner, but my sister lost her job, so it was not much for mother to keep a family on. Josie and mother did what sewing they could, or any other kind of honest work that they might make a few cents. I remember one night when nearly everyone was in bed, mother and Josie must still toil on as they must get the dress finished. Mother woke me up from my bed as I must go with Josie several blocks away for mother's step-father as a bunch of rough men were outside trying to see how indecent they could be. They left when we went for help, and we never were able to find out just who they were. While in Salem we lived in four different houses, all very shabby and poor. It was not much trouble for us to move as we had very little to move. Also, I wish to mention that when we reached Salem, we found father's second wife Annie, living there with her sister, Elizabeth Christensen. We had been there one year when father came for his two wives and children. This seemed very strange to us as he had seen none of us for one year, although we were only forty miles away. But we were soon to learn that our father would never live with us again as he had once done. We put all our belongings on one wagon and drove the team to Heber, along with my half brother, Lyman, while father had both wives and children with him. The first night we stopped at a place in Provo where father slept in an old barn where the rain came through all night, as he would not stay in the house with his wives. He had told me since my mother's death, that during the night my mother went out to the barn two or three times to try and get him to come in out of the rain, but he wouldn't. The next night we reached Heber, where father had built a four room house on Aunt Lizzie's farm. Here he took mother and children and put them in two rooms, and Aunt Annie in the other two. He then said goodnight and went home to his first wife. This was a hard blow to mother as she had done nothing but her duty in every way possible, and had worked so hard, and now she found her husband, and our father, had put us to one side and would never live with us again. The tears she shed that night were not a few, for her sorrow had begun to dawn on her and she seemed as one awakening from a dream.

Mother Worked

Father gave us one cow, and that was the milk for Aunt Annie's family and mother's. Father got plenty of wood for us. Our bread and potatoes he raised on ten acres of land which Aunt Annie owned. Mother went to work every Friday for Mrs. Hatch. She walked about one mile, often breaking a trail in a foot of snow. For this she was paid fifty cents a day. She also went out to wash and house clean, and she and her sister Annie, have cleaned the school house many times. She also took in sewing for many years. While she was doing this I helped on the farms what I could for two years, while Josie went out to do house work, both in Heber and Park City, although she was very young to go away to work. We all gave mother every cent we were able to earn - which was not much. Mother and Josie finally became the leading dressmakers, and were always busy sewing, and very few holidays there were when they did not have to sew all day long, and many times until after midnight. I helped father get our wood for several years.

To Salt Lake City

When I was seventeen we moved into a rented two room house, for in some way Aunt Annie had become the owner of the home where we lived. It was now up to us to get our own flour, potatoes, hay, wood, and coal. So for some time I took rented teams, with my brother Chase, and hauled our fuel on shares. During the winter of 1902 and 1903, mother's son Francis was dragged by wild horses and quite badly hurt. At the same, her daughter Lyle, fell on the ice and was hurt, and has been very poorly ever since. Although mother did everything in her power to get her made well, still she is in very poor health, but a very patient sufferer. Regardless of her ill health, all her life Lyle was a great comfort to her mother, and worked and helped her all she could although she has never been strong. In the Spring of 1903 mother bought a small home with the help of her children, the first home she had owned since we left Mexico. To this home we built two rooms and were more comfortable than ever before. But in 1907 Josie, who had been so faithful to mother and the family married. This made it hard on my sister Millie, to go on with dressmaking. As mother's eyes were so poor, she could not sew much, and Lyle was so sick most of the time. So Millie went to Salt Lake to find work. She soon moved mother and Lyle down there, where they lived and got along pretty well until 1912 when both Millie and Lyle took sick with typhoid fever. After an illness of twelve weeks Millie died. Although she is gone, she is not forgotten for we all loved her for she was a true sister to all of us and a real daughter to mother. All the years of her life were spent in helping her dear mother, brothers, and sisters.

Back to Heber

After the death of Millie mother moved back to Heber, where she and Lyle lived with some of us children during that winter. The death of Millie was a hard blow to mother, as she had not only lost her loving daughter who had always been with her in all her trouble and sorrow since her birth, but she had been mother's main support for several years. Mother was sixty three then, and as her life had been one hard work and worry she was beginning to break in health. Yet she could not give up and have her children or the public support her. No, she must do something to support herself and her sick daughter, Lyle. So mother with a very few dollars which she had, and what her children could help, bought a small building and paid a little down with terms on the balance. Her stock of goods were bought the same way. Some of the businessmen of the town said she could not stay in business six months. But, although she had poor health herself, and Lyle was bedfast, much of the time and was operated on, yet mother toiled from early morning until late at night. Holidays only meant more work for her. She met all of her payments promptly, paid her own doctor bills and her daughters, and was called the star merchant of Heber by one of the most successful merchants who ever entered that town in business.


After about four years in business there, mother's health was very poor, and she decided to sell the store and try the rooming house business as she thought she might stand the work much better. So the store was sold, and may I say here, that although many who have had it, and who had much more money than she did, and some who had much more experience in that kind of work, not one out of the many who have tried it since have been able to last long, but have failed and had to quit. I only mention this to show that she was a willing worker with the determination to do things, and a keen foresight. If it had not been for her poor health and her daughters illness, she would no doubt have become a very well-to-do woman. But whenever her daughter needed help, mother would sacrifice everything with a hope that she might be able to bring health and happiness into the poor suffering life of her beloved daughter, Lyle. Mother moved back to Salt Lake where she did a nice rooming house business for some time, but, later moved to California with hope that Lyle might have better health. Here her daughter was under the doctors care most of the time, and very often in very bad condition, which meant lots of work and worry, as well as heavy expense. While her mother operated a rooming house again, and regardless of all her troubles and expense, struggled on, and paid several hundred dollars into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to which she belonged. Her daughter finally became so ill that mother was forced to send for one of her children to come to help what he could, so her youngest son, then married and had a family, went to her assistance. After Lyle had improved in health, he returned to his family in Utah. Sometime later when our sister became worse, Francis went down to help mother. While he was there they were advised to move to Arizona, so he helped them there, and then returned to his family in Utah. As sister seemed to get no better, mother moved back to California so she could continue running her rooming house, and had to be where she could work herself as her expenses were so high. After a short time, mother again sent to her children for help as Lyle was not expected to live. This time Josie went to her dear mother's assistance who was carrying such a load of worry alone many miles from any of her folks. After Josie reached them, the doctor said they must come back to Utah as that was the only chance Lyle had to live, but gave them very little hope of her reaching Utah alive. Mother had to have a stateroom for this trip, and had to get a nurse to come along with them to help them. All this called for money, but mother was always willing to give all she had for her children whom she loved with all her heart.

Moving around

After mother's arrival to Utah, she went to Provo where she lived with Will and his family. During this time Lyle was bedfast maybe months and not expected to ever get out of her bed alive, by some of the leading doctors. The heavy strain that mother had been under broke her down and she was never out of bed for several months. After their recovery, they again moved back to Salt Lake, where mother again went into the rooming house business. After sometime she went back to California as she had some business to attend to there. Then later returned to Salt Lake again, where she ran another rooming house. In all these rooming houses she ran, they were all run respectably. While immoral girls and whisky allowed in her place of business would, no doubt, have made her more money, she would not stand for any such stuff. She was clean in every way herself and had no use for unclean people.

Mother's death

In the early Spring of 1932, mother became very ill, but recovered pretty well from this illness in two or three months, but her daughter Lyle was in a hospital in very serious condition just before this, which of course, was a big worry for mother. Again in Aug. 1932, mother took very ill, and after six or seven weeks of patient suffering, passed away from her life of hard work, worry and sorrow. During the illness of mother she was surrounded by a number of her children at all times. She had no fear of death as she had given her best at all times to all with whom she associated. And the last words she uttered were to God, our Heavenly Father, pleading for Him to take her. He heard and answered her call, and in a few hours she departed from this life and those who were so dear to her, to join many of her loved ones who had gone on before. Surrounding her bed side were all of her children but one who was unable to be there. Also her son-in-law David Todd, and daughter-in law Vera. Mother's remains now rest beside her daughter, Millie, at Heber City, Utah.

A religious woman

Mother was a religious woman and suffered much for her faith. She always taught her children to be honest and clean at all times, and to attend there duties in the church to which she belonged. And although she, herself, on many occasions was wronged by some of her own church members financially, who were held in high standing, yet when she could get no justice, she just left the matter for God to settle in his own way when we meet at the bar of justice. She had no ill feelings toward anyone, and though she felt as if she had suffered much through our father, she asked some of we children to do what we could to make father comfortable as he had just buried his first wife five months before, and was now alone and eighty six years old. She said she did not want him either in this life or the life to come as she had suffered so much through him. So we will have to leave this matter to God. But such was her life, always to do her part and then a little more. We know that our mother worked much too hard, and with all the worry she had, broke her down in health and perhaps shortened her years here on earth. But we believe that her reward in Heaven will be great for her struggle and suffering. And if we, her children would only live as we were taught by our mother I am sure none of us would ever go far wrong.

No ill feelings

We do not wish anyone who may read these pages to think our father a bad man, for he never was, and may the readers of these pages remember that his first wife was his first love, and we who have never lived in polygamy know little of what we would do if placed in their places. Perhaps many of us would do much worse than father has ever done. There are many in our church who do not believe in polygamy, but father still does. He has a right to his belief, I don't think any of us ever had a quarrel or bad feelings toward any of our half brothers and sisters, and I can truthfully say that blood was thicker than water, and they are very close to us.

We are very grateful for the kind good mother which God gave us, and we, her children, appreciate all she has done for us. We suffered much with her for many years. We are all thankful for the privilege we have had of helping our dear mother, and sharing her sorrow with her. Her memory will live on with us, and may we strive at all times to live up to the standard set by our mother. And may, God, our Heavenly Father, watch over us in the days to come. May he guide us back into her presence.

Vital Statistics

Jensine Marie Jensen was born at Horsens, Skauderborg County, Denmark, on March 1, 1859. She was baptized by Jens Jensen on Aug. 3, 1873, and confirmed by Andrew Nelsen on Aug. 3, 1873. Her schooling commenced at Horsens at five years old in 1864. She graduated in Horsens at fourteen years old in April, 1873 She was married to Joseph Moulton by Daniel H. Wells in Salt Lake City and endowed at the Endowment House on Feb. 28, 1876. Her patriarchal blessing was by John Smith. She migrated from Denmark to Utah on Aug. 24, 1874.

Vocation - She was skilled in many things, or, as she used to say, a jack of all trades -- farm work, dress maker, agent, merchant and landlady. She was especially interested in the stage, store business, and sewing. height - 5'1", weight - 120 lb. chest size - 38", color of eyes - blue, color of hair - brown. She died in Salt Lake City at 4:00 p.m., Thursday, Sept.15, l932, and was buried Sunday, Sept.18, 1932 at Heber City, Utah.

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Funeral services for Mary J. Moulton 73, widow of Joseph Moulton, who died at her home, 26 E. 4th So. Street, Thursday evening of infirmities incident to age, will be conducted in Heber, Sunday at 3:30 p.m. in the Wasatch Stake Tabernacle. She was born in Denmark Mar. 1, 1859 and came to Salt Lake with her sister to join her mother, who had came several months before them. The family lived in Salt Lake for four years then moved to Heber, where she resided until a short time ago. Surviving are one sister, Annie J. Moulton of Heber, six sons and daughters, Mrs. D. A. Todd and Chase, Francis and Thomas J. Moulton of Heber; W. A. Moulton of Provo; and Lyle Moulton of Salt Lake, and 23 grandchildren.

Funeral Services Of Mary J. Moulton

Mrs. Mary J. Moulton, 73, died in Salt Lake City last Thursday, Sept.15th, following an illness of several weeks. The body was brought to Heber for burial, and services were held in the Stake Tabernacle Sunday afternoon. There was a large attendance at the services, and the floral offerings were many and beautiful. By request, Joseph A. Rasband conducted the services, which opened with a mixed quartet singing, "Oh My Father," the singers being Frank S. Epperson, Mr. George B. Stanley, Mrs. Maybell Moulton, and Mrs. Dona Montgomery. They were accompanied on the piano by Mrs. Lillian Moulton. The opening prayer was offered by Frederick W. Giles. Mr. Epperson and Mrs. Montgomery then sang the duet, "Just Beyond the Veil of Yours."

James Christensen, a nephew of Mrs. Moulton, and a member of the Palmira Stake High Council said that Mrs. Moulton had always exhibited great faiths and that to her, as to all of us, the gospel brings much satisfaction when other sources fail. He related how her mother, with three daughters, had been converted to the church in Denmark, and spoke of the hardships through which they passed for the gospel, and closed by reading a poem, "Tribute to Mother." Alma Christensen another nephew, sang the solo, "Face To Face." Mrs. Jane Hatch Turner said she had been aquatinted with Mrs. Moulton for fifty five years, and spoke of her as one most capable and industrious, also a splendid mother. Speaker bore testimony of a knowledge of a life hereafter, and read the poem, "My Mother." Mrs. Turner then read the original lines she had written for the occasion which were very fitting, "To The Family."

President D. A. Broadbent said he had become acquainted with Mrs. Moulton best through her family, whom he had found to be reputable and upright. Also, he spoke of death as a blessing meant to relieve us of bodily pain and suffering, and gave evidence of future life where all awards are according to faithful labors performed here. He said there is no such thing as paying our last respects to the departed, since every act of life is a mark of respect or disrespect to those who pass on. Mr. Joseph A. Rasband made the closing remarks giving a historical sketch of the life's labors of Mrs. Moulton --Born in Denmark 73 years ago; came to Utah with her mother and two sisters 61 years ago; lived in Heber 51 years; was married to Joseph Moulton at the age of 17; was the mother of eight children, six of them are still alive; has had twenty five grand children, twenty of whom are still living. Speaker referred to Mrs. Moulton as one who was always sociable, youthful, also neat and tidy in appearance made possible by the workmanship of her own hands. Always the companion of her invalid daughter, Lyle, who with the other members survive and have the sympathy of many kind friends in their bereavement.

The quartet sang, "Beautiful Isle," and the benediction was offered by Bishop Ray Davis of the Salem Ward. Interment was in the Heber City Cemetery. The grave was dedicated by Mr. Henry T. Moulton. The grandsons acted as pall bearers, and the granddaughters acted as flower girls.

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