AGNES THOMPSON BORROWMAN BROWN (by Agnes Dolores Brown Cannon)
Contributor: trishkovach Created: 9 months ago Updated: 9 months ago
My mother’s birth: On the 15th of February, 1855, a baby girl was born to John and Agnes Borrowman, the first child to bless them in their new home. She was given the name of Agnes Thompson Borrowman, the name of Agnes for her mother, the name of Thompson, her grandmother’s maiden name. Here in the humble but happy home she spent her childhood and young womanhood. Soon after her birth, John added another room of logs to the home, 18x8 feet, and purchased a cast iron kitchen stove with an oven. This was a great help, he also made furniture for it, which added to their comfort. He had planted Locus trees along the east of the home and dug ditches for irrigation. There were flowers in front, including Sweet Williams, Snap Dragons, and Holly Hocks and a few choice rose bushes. Fruit trees were planted and currant bushes.
He built a bar for the cattle and coops for the chickens and ducks, pens for the pigs and, like everyone else, raised their food stuff including meat. Wild bushes of Berries, plums and wild currants were plentiful, also ground cherries, which made delicious preserves, grew wild in the valley.
Two other children were born to them in the same house, John William and Marian Hannah. The girls were taught the arts of homemaking of that day. Agnes, my mother, especially like to sew and that was her special project, but like the others she had her share of housework to do and learned to iron, scrub, make butter, cheese and soap, sausage and headcheese.
In 1870, some new neighbors moved next door, the K.H. Bruhn (Brown) family. They had three sons and a daughter, Ana Nicolena, Joseph and Daniel Knut. Joseph and Agnes became very good friends. The Brown family only lived there three years and traded their home for one on the south end of town and moved. Agnes and Joseph continued their friendship and on the 10th of October 1876, were married in the Endowment House in Salt Lake City, Utah. For a time, they lived within two blocks of Agnes’s folks, in a three room adobe house.
Joseph did all sorts of work, anything that was available in a farming community and they raised their own food as everyone did in that day. They were very happy, a certain kind of happiness that few people know about in these troubled times. On the 24th of July, 1877, their first child was born, a boy. They named him Joseph Knute and called him, Knuttie. On the 11th of May 1879, another boy was born to them and he was named John William. The following year in January 1880, an epidemic of diphtheria struck the village, and Knuttie was stricken and died. On the 31st of January, he was buried in the City Cemetery. This was indeed a tragedy.
After Knuttie’s death, Joseph took a farm to run on shares; it was located about six miles from town and Agnes was very lonesome and sad. She missed being near her family. One Sunday she wanted so much to go to town for a visit, but Joseph had been up most of the night irrigating, as their turn to use the water came at night. He wanted most of all to sleep and rest, but Agnes kept expressing her desires and finally he told her that if she would catch the horses, he would take her. The horses were loose in a large field and were not easy to catch, but she decided to try. As she went outside, she called back and said, “be sure and watch the baby”. John was now past two and could get around pretty fast. Joseph was lying on the floor, and John was climbing over him.
In order to get to the horses, Agnes had to cross the irrigation canal on a plank, which was laid across, near the dam. She hurried across to the horses. After chasing them for some time, without success, she went back to the house very discouraged. As she entered the door, there was Joseph fast asleep and no baby to be seen. “Where’s the baby!” she cried out in alarm. Joseph jumped up, “He was here a moment ago,” he exclaimed. He was not in the house, so they both ran outside. Finding he was not around the house, they both ran to the stream. Joseph ran downstream and Agnes crossed the plank and ran to the corral to see if he had followed her there. As she came back across the plank, she saw saw his dress bubble up in the muddy waters by the dam. She screamed and jumped in and frantically clutched his little body. With Joseph’s help, she climbed out, ran to the house and began working on him. There didn’t seem to be any life in the little body, but Agnes though perhaps the doctor might be able to do something. In record time, the horses were caught, hitched to the wagon, and Joseph was off, cutting across fields at record speed. He stopped at the nearest neighbor, two miles away, and asked them to go and help Agnes. The doctor lost no time in getting to the farm, but still there was no signs of life. He worked desperately for over an hour before any signs of life appeared, others were praying. “A miracle,” the doctor said, “saved his life”. He is alive today, 1966, age 87 years.
That year, after the crops were harvested, they decided they would move to town and so moved into the same house they had occupied before. It was in this house that I was born, the 13th of November, 1882. On the 27th of March, 1885, mother gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. They were named Leon Ray and Lena Fay. Lena was very delicate and lived a little over a year. Lena was named after Grandmother Brown. Sister Neff, a midwife, delivered the twins as usual. Lena accidently fell down the cellar steps when she was about two years old and later died from the effects of the fall on the 25th of August, 1886.
Leon and I, as we grew up, were very fond of each other and were a very happy pair. I can’t remember when I wasn’t looking out for him, fighting his battles. He was always such a kind, gentle boy, and wouldn’t hurt anyone or anything. I was a very healthy child; in fact, we both were. I, being the only girl in the family, was very much loved and a little bit spoiled. We children survived the various child diseases such as measles, chickenpox, but escaped the serious diseases. I recall I was kept in a dark room for a week, supposedly to protect the eyes, although I was raring to go and not the least bit sick.
There were few toys to play with, and we children had to make our own fun, which for me consisted of mostly climbing trees, seeing who could climb the highest or walk the longest on top of a fence. Playing hopscotch or swinging in a hammock made of barrel slats and rope. Everyone had a swing of some kind, mostly hanging from the limb of a tree. As we grew older, we played in the street where we had no traffic worries. We played “steal-stick”, “hide-go-seek”, and “run-sheep-run”. When we were old enough to go to school, we played handball and Anti-I-Over, which was the most popular. These games gave us plenty of exercise. Our neighbors were the Schofields, Ellisons, and also some Vickers lived nearby.
Grandmother and Grandfather Borrowman lived a block and a half from our place, so I was able to visit them often, nearly every day in fact. Just across the street from Grandmother’s was the school house. A large adobe building with two rooms, one for the children from one up to and including the fifth grade. The seats were of the double variety, two students to each seat. There was a bench, wherein each class went for recitation. There was also a huge pot-bellied cast iron stove that gave us heat, those sitting close toasted, while those sitting back were sometimes a little less comfortable. The big room had the older students, with fifth readers up to and including 7th. There were windows along each side of the room, and a long blackboard across the front. There was between 40 and 50 students in each room. Notebooks were unknown in those days, but we all carried slates and a slate pencil with which we did our homework. Some of the slates were double slates and easier to take care of your work, others were just the simple type. Each class was called up front to the recitation bench when the lesson was given. I think this was quite an advantage because we not only got instructions in our own class but were able to listen in on all the other classes.
The house where I was born was a two-room adobe house. It consisted of two large rooms and a summer kitchen. This summer kitchen was a small room built on the back where we kept our firewood, to keep it dry in the winter. In the spring, at housecleaning time, this kitchen was cleaned out. Then the stove was moved into it to do the cooking in the hot summer months. This helped to keep our house cool. We were located in the center of town, just two blocks from Aunt Jane Vickers and a block east and a block south. We had a nice orchard with apples, plums, apricots, also currants and gooseberries, wild currants grew on the lot. We had cows, pigs, chickens and ducks, and some years we raised our beef and lamb. We raised all kinds of vegetables and in the fall we canned and dried fruits and vegetables to eat during the winter. We had, as did everyone else, a cellar, dug in the ground which was filled with potatoes, apples and vegetables. In the spring it was completely cleaned and whitewashed with lime. The shelves were removed and cleaned also. These shelves were used for pickling berry products. We made our own butter and usually had some to sell; we also had cottage cheese and sometimes mother made real cheese.
Ours was a very happy home, and my childhood was a very happy one. At the time I was born, Mother’s brother William was working on a ranch on the Dolores River in Colorado, which he described as the most beautiful spot in the world. As soon as he heard of my arrival, he wrote mother suggesting that she name me Dolores. Being the first girl, I had to bear Mother’s name, an old Scotch custom, and so in December, 1881, I was named Agnes Dolores Brown by Apostle George Teasdale in the Nephi Tabernacle. This old landmark was torn down a few years back. In my childhood there was very little in the way of real toys to buy, so what we had were homemade. I loved dolls and mother made them in all sizes, from a few inches to 18 inches. They were stuffed with wool or cotton and the faces and fingers were embroidered. The hair was made of yarn, straight yarn for braids or crinkled yarn for curls. At Christmas time, China heads would be purchased and sewed onto the bodies. Nice, but breakable.
I recall when Leon and I were old enough to drive the cows to the pasture every day, I thought it would be a great idea to break the cows to ride. I talked it over with Leon, but he was not the least bit enthused. However, he decided he would let me try it out. We went down to the coral, climbed on the fence near where old Bean, the cow, stood quietly brushing the flies with her tail. I tried to persuade Leon to drop down on her back, but he wouldn’t do it so I decided to try. I did, and seconds later landed on my back in cow dung. I gave that project up.
I had grown to be a very thin child and had severe sore throats every winter. I wouldn’t eat potatoes and mother was worried about my health, but it didn’t stop me from getting into all kinds of trouble. If the wind was blowing, I would climb to the top of the tall poplar trees that grew along the ditch bank around our house. If the ball rolled into the gutter at the roofs edge, I would climb a tree, hang over the house and drop to the roof, then work my way down to the very edge to retrieve the ball. Our house was up so high that had I fallen, there is no doubt it would have been fatal.
During my childhood, children rarely had money to spend and parents as well had very little. I don’t remember anyone being unhappy about it. On the 4th and 24th of July, we would make a big freezer of wonderful ice cream. There was always plenty of cake to be had, and sometimes we were given a nickel or a dime to spend for gum or candy.
When I was about four years of age, I began running away from home each day to play. Usually, I went up to Aunt Jane Vicker’s, despite the fact that she kept warning me that it was getting late and mother would be worried, etc. I managed to stay on until it was getting dark unless someone came for me. Mother tried to tell me what might happen if I didn’t stop leaving home without permission, and I knew that what she said she meant, but I still slipped away every day. Finally, the punishment began. First it was to bed without supper, then I was to keep inside the house and had to stand with my face to the wall. At last, after all other means of punishment had been exhausted, mother resorted to the switch. I was sent to get one. The first one I brought was dry and rather weak. I was promptly sent out again for a good one, and a good one I brought. Although it didn’t hurt mother as much as it did me, I was switched on my bare legs and good. It was a very unpleasant experience. From then on, every time I ran away without asking, the switching was repeated and still I persisted in repeating the offence for quite some time. One day late in the fall, we were having our first storm, snow had fallen, about six inches of it, and it had become very slushy. Mother had been to town and bought me a pair of new over-shoes. I was very anxious to show them to my cousin, so I slipped away and joyfully went on my way to Aunt Jane’s house. Needless to say, I didn’t bother to hurry back. Several times Aunt Jane reminded me that mother might be worried, that it was getting late and that more storm was coming, but still I stayed on. All at once I noticed that it really was growing dark, and so I started home. Grandmother’s house was only one half block out of the way, so I decided to show her my new boots. As I neared her house, I saw a strange looking woman with a sunbonnet covering her face and a shawl around her shoulders. She stopped me and asked, “Where are you going little girl?” “To Grandma’s to show her my new overshoes and then I’ll go right home”, and off I tripped to Grandmother’s house. “My, my,” Grandmother exclaimed, “aren’t you afraid to be out this late? Don’t you know that gypsies are in town and they might carry off little girls who are out all by themselves?”
I thought of the woman I just passed on the way to her house and began to wonder what I should do. I suddenly decided that I would remain right there until mother came for me, which I did. A few minutes later, mother came in minus the bonnet. Grandmother and mother planned the whole thing. I didn’t know until years later that it was mother. I forgot all about it, so it didn’t impress me too much.
Grandmother, during her younger days, had a beautiful voice and loved to teach her grandchildren songs. She tried to teach me some of the old Scotch dances. She taught us “Annie Laurie”, LaPlom? and when we were all together, she had us sing a round. We were divided into three groups and the first group sang the first line and when they started on the second line, the second group started the first line. When the first group started the third line, the third group starts. It all harmonized beautifully. I’ll try and sing it for you, but with my old cracked voice, I can’t do it very well, I used to sing very well.
Grandmother’s father, William Park, was a musician. He played the fiddle for groups to dance in the evening and also for those who sang, he played the accompaniment. Grandmother and Grandfather had many old sayings and motto’s that they passed along to their children and grandchildren whenever they thought a lesson could be learned. Here are some of them:
“A word to the wise is sufficient.”
“Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
“Never put off till tomorrow, that which you can do today.”
“Waste not, want not is a maxim I repeat, let your actions be discreet and practice what you preach.”
“Do not let good chances, like sunbeams, pass you by.”
“For you never miss the water till the well runs dry.”
“Honesty is the best policy.”
“Spare the rod and spoil the child.”
“A child should be seen and not heard.”
“Pretty is as pretty does.”
“Time and tide waits for no man.”
“Give a man enough rope, and he’ll hang himself.”
“Put a beggar on horseback, and he’ll ride to the devil.”
“Laugh and the world laughs with you, weep and you weep alone.”
These are just a few of the many I was taught by my Grandparents.
I was never close to Grandmother and Grandfather Brown as they lived quite a distance from us, but we loved them nevertheless. Our only transportation in those days was by foot. It was about a mile to their house, and in the summer it was too hot and in the winter it was too cold to walk that far very often. When we did visit them, the red carpet was always out. We were treated royally.
There was always all kinds of Danish pastries and goodies for the children. Grandfather had married his second wife, also from Denmark. New Years Day was Grandfather’s birthday and that was always a very special day for us, for we participated in the festivities along with his many friends. Grandfather had been a missionary before leaving Denmark and had filled two missions to Denmark and Sweden after settling here, and many of his converts had immigrated to Utah. Many attended the Open House on New Year’s Day.
It was a very distracting day for me and the children for all the talking was in a foreign tongue, and we couldn’t understand a word, but Grandma Maria, as we lovingly called her, was in her glory as she prepared for and served the host of guests who attended the party. Grandfather had many friends from Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and Germany. He spoke all these languages fluently and had many converts from these countries. At these parties, there was seldom a word of English spoken. I usually wound up with a severe headache when it was over. Of course, the grandchildren had to come early and stay all day to meet all the guests, but it was wonderful and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
I remember one Christmas, Grandfather and Grandmother wanted me to stay at their home Christmas Eve. I didn’t want to at all, but mother didn’t want to hurt their feelings so very reluctantly, I went. They put me to bed in their bedroom on a couch because the other bedrooms were so far away from them. They were in the habit of retiring early so they put me to bed extra early, so that I could get to sleep because they had a surprise for me. After hanging up my stocking and saying my prayers, I climbed into bed. But I couldn’t get to sleep. Every little while, Grandfather would peek to see if I was asleep, which didn’t help any. At last I closed my eyes and pretended I was asleep, and then they got busy. I didn’t dare move for fear they would know that I wasn’t asleep. Finally, they came to bed and after all was dark and quiet, I went to sleep.
Next morning, when I awakened, they were already up. I quickly climbed out of bed and ran to my stocking. There was candy, pine nuts, an orange and, to my surprise, a big Wax Doll, a beautiful one that opened and closed her eyes. Such a doll I had never seen before. I had always played with dolls that were embroidered faces and yarn hair. Mother bought china heads and sewed them on to rag bodies and I thought they were beautiful, but I loved them only as a child can love a doll. Mother taught me to sew and cut out clothes for them, and I loved it. The wax doll was beautiful, but almost too large for me to dress and handle like I did my other dolls, and I had to be careful not to scratch the wax. A friend of Grandmother’s, who lived in Salt Lake had given them the doll after her little daughter had passed away, and my grandparents wanted me to have it. They wanted to see my surprise when supposedly Santa had left it. A year and a half later, I took the doll out to play with it and accidently left it where the sun eventually got around to it and melted the wax off its face. It was ruined.
In our new home, we were now a mile and a half from Grandfather Brown’s, still further away than ever. After breakfast, Grandfather took me home, and I was very happy to get back to my brothers to see what Santa had left them, although Santa never left very much. Candy pine nuts and an orange was about all we ever got for Christmas.
Our new home was located in the East Center part of town and was quite close to the foothills. It was a real large lot, and we had plenty of space in our new home. Being much larger, it was much nicer. There were two fireplaces and two front rooms and a long front porch facing the south, and another porch on the back of the house, facing East.
Our neighbors on the north were the W.T. Browns. They were Presbyterians and had moved from Nebraska to the west. They had two children, a boy and a girl, Edward and Betty. They were not very friendly at first and seemed to be reluctant to let their children associate with Mormon children.
Father had gone over to the Tintic Mine to work and had not been there too long when one day there was a cave-in and Daddy was caught under a large boulder and his leg was crushed and broken. A man who stood beside him was killed, crushed to death by the same boulder. They were there for some time before they came to look for them. They had to pry the boulder up with a cross bar and had just raised it a little when the timber about him started to crack. They dropped it and ran for their lives. It was some time before they returned and released him. He was confined to the hospital for many months with broken bones and smashed muscles. Now it was up to mother to provide the money we needed. She did some sewing, ironing, nursing, and some washing, despite the fact that she was expecting a baby soon, the first in eight years. John got whatever work he could and gave every cent of it to mother to help out. He also helped in the garden, milked the cows, and cared for all the animals. He was a great help and comfort to mother. I turned out berries and helped her, and she got along beautifully.
On the 16th of February 1893, mother gave birth to a son, and he was named Lloyd Cleveland. This time Sister Neff had raised her price to $10 and only came back three times, so Mother hired Sarah House to wash and dress the baby till she was able. I expect they required 10 days in bed.
Two and a half years after Lloyd was born, Mother gave birth to another baby boy. They named him Ivan Andrew. He was born on the 22nd of February 1895.
After Father had recovered from his injuries, he was home for a time, then got a job sheepherding for awhile. Grandmother Borrowman had been in poor health for some time and mother and Aunt Hannah did the washing each week and Mother even sent milk every day and butter whenever it was needed. I carried the milk and butter to them and at times the finished laundry, so I saw a good deal of them. I also sat in the door yard and polished the steel knives and forks and spoons, in the sand.
A small irrigation ditch ran through the front yard where the roses and columbines grew. Grandfather had a lot of lovely rose bushes. I noticed a very beautiful red rose and I asked him what kind it was. “That, my dear, is a ‘General Washington’.
Soon Grandfather’s health failed and it was not long before both of them were bedfast. The family took turns nursing them. Grandfather soon passed away; he died the 3rd of March, 1898, at the age of 82. Grandmother only lived five months longer; she died on the 6th of August, 1898. My, how I missed them! They were laid away in the Nephi City Cemetery, side by side.
During their lifetime, they had never known the sorrow of losing a child, but Mother soon followed them; she died on the 15th of September, 1898. Their son, William, was killed in a mining accident on the 10th of July, 1899, making four deaths in one year.
About two years after Ivan was born, Father went to work for A.J. Knowland, the biggest sheep man in the state. He was driving sheep in Northern Utah and Wyoming, so he was far away from home. His wages were to be $75 a month, and we youngsters thought we were rich. Little did we realize how far $75 would go, it went as far as maybe $300 today. Mr. Knowland was getting along in years and so needed someone to take care of his sheep. They were scattered about. Dad had to buy supplies for the winter and see that there were herders and that they were experienced. Their headquarters were at Laramie, Wyoming. His salary of $75 was tops in those days. Mother helped out by sewing for friends and neighbors. She made such beautiful button holes. At first she didn’t have much work, but after awhile she had all she could do.
Across the street from us lived Brother and Sister Howe. Brother Howe helped Mother at times when she was very busy. Sister Howe had her nose cut off when she joined the Quakers in England. She was a lovely person and very pretty in spite of the mutilation. Father had only been away two months when word came that he was in the hospital with pneumonia at Evanston. Mother hadn’t been feeling well either, and there was no way we could get to him. He might just as well been in Timbuktu. The hospital, however, kept us informed and after three weeks we got word that they were removing part of his left lung, and it was doubtful that he would recover. We prayed for him morning and night, and I am sure Mother prayed constantly.
At last we got a letter from him saying that he could leave the hospital. The doctor recommended that he go out to the sheep camp as the mountain air would be excellent for healing his lung, and that is what he did. I know that he was worried about our finances and was anxious to get back on the job. He wrote whenever he could, whenever he could get mail to town. After a month in camp, Mother received a letter with the first check for $75 for his month’s work.
In the meantime, John had been helping mother out all he could by herding cows and anything else he could get to do. Aunt Sarah Brown had been sick in bed for some time, and her hired girl left. Uncle Dan was away on a trip South and would not be back for a month, so I went to help her out for she had five children. I worked for five weeks at $1.50 per week. What we made, we turned over to Mother; we never thought that any of it was ours. Mother insisted on buying some material to make me a new fall dress. It was about the first of September that the check came; we were all excited. John wanted to buy pants for school and I wanted shoes. $75, that out to buy everything, but Mother reminded us that there were a lot of bills to pay. Next morning, after the morning work was done, Mother got dressed to go to town. With a pencil and paper, she sat down at the table to list what the money should go for. John stood over one shoulder, and I over the other. The first thing she wrote down was tithing $7.50. John and I both protested. We knew she owed the Co-op store some $30, and the furniture store almost as much. There would be nothing left for pants and shoes.
Mother sat there for a few moments and then quietly put on her hat and left. We both knew the tithing would be paid, and it was. Mother paid tithing on everything: butter, eggs, and any income. She always said pay tithing first, and you’ll never miss it and never go hungry. She also said that it seems to always come back to you in many ways. About three years before this happened, Father had sold a wagon to a man who lived two blocks down the street. He was a heavy drinker and had a reputation for not paying his bills. He had several children, among them two boys, one, my own age and one older. They were in poor circumstances most of the time because of his drinking. Mother thought it foolish for Father to sell the wagon to him, but he assured Dad that if he had a wagon, he could make some money and pay him the balance of $35. Sometime later as I was passing their place, their dog ran out and bit me. Father got after him for not taking better care of the dog. Later it bit some other children, and then someone poisoned the dog. Mr. Jenkins accused Dad and threatened, “Don’t you think I will ever pay you for the wagon”, and he never had. The deal was forgotten by this time. Well, Mother was on her way home, tithing paid and all the money was gone, not a cent left, but she was happy. As Mother was passing the Jenkins’ home in front of the house, she put her down and hurried by. She was crossing a narrow bridge when she saw Mr. Jenkins coming toward her and she heard him call, “Oh, Mrs. Brown”. He is probably intoxicated, she thought, and hurried on paying no attention. She hoped she could get across the narrow bridge before he got to it, but he beat her and as he started across the narrow bridge, he called to her again, “Mrs. Brown, here’s that $35 I owe Joe, I just thought you would be needing it.”
Mother came in and she smilingly told us about the extra money. “Now you can have your shoes and John can have his pants. You see, I paid my tithing and the Lord was mindful.” John and I felt ashamed of ourselves.
Early in September, John got a job tending a band of sheep on their way to Omaha to the market; he would be gone some weeks, we knew. Mother worried about him going. John knew Mother was not well when he left, and he was worried about her. On the 16th of September, Mother decided to go see Dr. McCune who had studied some medicine under Dr. Wilcox in Salt Lake, and was the only doctor in Nephi at the time. Mother and I did the washing in the morning, and then she got ready to go down to see Dr. McCune for an examination. There was some Typhoid Fever around, and Dr. McCune told her to go home and go to bed and stay there. She would see her tomorrow. The next day she was worse; Dr. McCune came to see her and said she had Typhoid Fever. On the following day, Dr. Wilcox was in town, and he came with Dr. McCune to see Mother and confirmed her diagnosis, despite the fact that Mother told him her kidneys were not functioning properly. He said that was not unusual for Typhoid. Two days later he came again. Mother’s tongue was so swollen she could hardly talk, and the Doctor came again and then he found that she had inflammation of the kidneys, uremic poisoning. There was nothing that could be done, and two days later she passed away, only 43 years old. What a tragedy.
She left two babies, one 4 ½ and one 2 ½ . The rest of us were more or less grown up. I was fifteen, Leon was thirteen, and John was seventeen. Father hadn’t been home since he left, and we were unable to get in touch with him for he was out in the mountains somewhere. We sent a telegram to Laramie, his headquarters, but he failed to receive it until after her death. The last thing mother said to me was “I don’t want to die and leave my babies”. Luckily, John had sent a telegram from somewhere in Wyoming, asking about Mother’s health and we were able to get in touch with him, and he returned home immediately to be at Mother’s funeral. Father didn’t receive word for nearly a week after her burial, but came immediately home. He was thin and pale-looking and not very well for a long time. There was no embalming in those days, and the bodies could not be kept for more than two days and the burial had to be soon, so we laid her away. She was buried in the City Cemetery at the side of her two children.
At first I took over the household duties, but Dad felt he must get back to work and there was no job in Nephi. What to do with the children was a problem, and he couldn’t leave us alone.
This story was recorded and the tapes mailed to me from Aunt Ness, so that I could write her life story. I am sorry to say that her death occurred before she could mail me any others. I have no way of knowing if she ever made any more and I was not in Salt Lake at the time to check on this.
I only wish this could have been finished. She never had a chance to make any corrections, etc., and I felt I was not the one to change a thing.
Myrtle Brown Sleater