On June 28, 1838 (the day Victoria was crowned Queen of England), a young Englishman twenty-eight years of age left his mother country on an emigrant ship for Canada. England's farming land was scarce, but she owned large colonial possessions that she was eager to have colonized by her own people; therefore she offered cheap passage on her emigrant ships and land in abundance to those who were courageous enough to leave home and family ties to set sail on the great adventure.
This young man's name was Matthew Mansfield, oldest son of John and Sarah Pinkett Mansfield, and second child in a family of twelve children. His father was a farmer, and Matthew wanted to be one, too, for he loved the soil; but when he grew up, he saw that it would be practically impossible to ever obtain a farm in England so he decided to accept the offer of his country and try his fortune in a new land.
Soon after his arrival in Canada, he located a desireable tract of land and set to work with a will, clearing it of timber and preparing it for planting. He found that Canadian winters were much colder than those in England, and his zeal in subdueing the land caused him to overtax his strength in this rigorous climate; he somewhat impaired his health for the rest of his life. He had no idea of leaving his farm however, but he happened to hear the gospel message brought to Canada by the missionaries of the newly organized church; and as the call was for all to gather with the body of the saints, he left his farm and joined them during those early years of persecution, and he finally came to the valley with them. He had buried his young wife and child in Nauvoo, so was alone on his trip across the plains. He was not called to join the Mormon Battalion on account of his impaired health.
When President Young laid out the new city of the Saints, he divided it into square blocks where each family might have a lot for a home and small garden. Surrounding the city were small farming tracts of five acres each and beyond them were farms of ten acres each; the farther one went from the city the larger might be the size of his farm. Matthew Mansfield (or my father as he afterwards became) was so anxious to own a large farm that he chose one out on Mill Creek about ten miles southeast of the city and so obtained one hundred and sixty acres of land. Here he felt to rejoice for he was with the Saints, away from the troubles of the world, and he had a large farm of his own in a temperate climate; he took great pleasure in preparing it for cultivation.
Meanwhile, the gospel had been carried to the nations ofEurope, and when Apostle Erastus Snow was expounding the truth in faraway Denmark, his remarks sank so deep in the heart of A. W. Winberg, a young Swedishman, that he was converted to its teachings. After being baptized, Winberg rushed across the channel to Sweden and carried the good news to his family. As soon as his sister Johanna Christina and her husband Peter Parson heard it, they too were convinced of its truthfulness and were baptized into the new church. But everyone did not feel the same about this new religion, for when the young Parson told his parents about it, they were so upset that they told the young couple to choose between their parents and their religion for the two could never agree. Sorrowfully the young couple turned and left the place, never returning to it again. Moreover, they even gave up the family name of Parson and took the name of Peterson by which they were afterwards known. Unable to live so close and be denied the association of their loved ones, they sailed to Denmark and saved their earnings to pay for their passage to the land of Zion. But they were not the only ones who suffered for the sake of this new religion, for the wife's brother who had brought them the gospel was so bitterly opposed by the ministers of the country that he was thrown into a vermin-infested prison and held there until he promised to either quite preaching or leave the country. He chose to leave the country and he sailed for Utah where he was in charge of the Norwegian saints for many years.
The young Petersons were soon ready to leave for Zion, though it was hard to bid farewell to their eldest son, Peter, who would have to be left behind in his tiny grave. They set sail in a sailing vessel, their family consisting of the second son (who was also given the name of Peter after the death of the first child) and three other brothers, Frederick, John, and Edward. Just as the vessel neared the English shores, a strong west wind came up and blew with such force that they were blown clear back across theNorth Sea to the place of embarking. But as soon as it stopped, they headed west again and this time reached the mouth of theMississippi River without accident. The Peterson family had cause for great sorrow because the boy, Edward, grew sick and died during the voyage and had to be buried at sea. They had another son born to them, however, while coming up the Mississippi, so again they had four living sons. So greatly did they rejoice when they were at last in the land of the Saints and this new son had been given to them that they named him Ephraim Millenium--two names much beloved by the Latterday Saints.
The journey across the plains, however, proved too strenuous for the young husband and he was laid to rest in a lonely wayside grave, but the wife and her four sons needs must go on. They finally arrived in the city of the Saints in the fall of 1855, tired and penniless but surrounded by friends.
Since polygamy was practiced then, a good woman who knew a trade was much sought after, so Sister Peterson, who was an expert weaver, was not long without a home. Brother Mansfield, with his big farm on Mill Creek was glad to marry her and take her and the boys out to join his family which consisted of only himself and his wife Isabel. An addition was built onto the adobe house and all were comfortable and happy. The three older boys must have enjoyed the life on the farm with its springs and willow-lined creek making a good wading and swimming hole in summer and icy stretches in winter for skating. Fish and ducks were there in abundance and furnished sport for all the neighborhood. Of course there was plenty of work to do on a farm of that size, but what pioneer boy was not glad to give of what strength he had towards building up the home.
On June 3, 1857, they were all made happy by the arrival of a baby girl into this family of boys. This was Brother Mansfield's first living child and his wife "Joan's" first daughter, and as she was given the name of Isabel Maria after the other wife who had no children of her own, she was greatly admired by all the family.
That summer word came to President Young that Johnson's army was on its way to the valleys to take charge of the Saints, so President Young advised the menfolks to marry the available young women so they would have a home and protector if the soldiers were quartered in their midst. Accordingly Brother Mansfield married a young girl of fifteen named Margaret Haslem who had no people of her own in the city. Another addition was made to the house, and all were provided for since the farm yielded plenty for the family. A large apple archard, patches of currant bushes and berries supplied them with fruit; other sections of the farm yielded hay, grain, potatoes, etc.
When Brother Mansfield's sister, Miriam, and her husband came from England, they were given a portion of the farm and the boy, Fred, went to live with them as they had no children of their own, and he felt he was getting big enough to earn his own living anyway.
A few head of sheep on the farm furnished wool and Mother's ability as a weaver kept them all supplied with warm stockings and clothing. The young folks used their home as a social center; besides big hunting and fishing parties, the big adobe room often was turned into a ballroom and many a dance was held within its walls.
On April 11, 1859 I was born to my father Matthew Mansfield and his wife Joan, as she was popularly called, and so my life began in this home on Mill Creek. I was given the name of Mary Ann in memory of father's first wife wife who was buried in Nauvoo. While still a babe, my mother took me out to camp Floyd to see her son, Fred, who was living at the soldiers' camp then. She had only two of her sons with her now for the eldest, Peter, had died here at Mill Creek at the age of fifteen and Fred soon went from CampFloyd to the mines in Nevada seeking employment.
At the general conference of the church held in Salt Lake City in October 1861, President Brigham Young announced that inasmuch as a Civil War was raging back in the States he felt sure that cotton goods would be much higher in price--too high for the people of Utah to afford what they would need. Therefore he felt that it was now the proper time to settle the valleys of southern Utahwhere this plant could be grown in sufficient quantities for our own needs and probably some for trade. For the past several years he had been sending out exploring parties throughout this region for the location of townsites and farming districts; cotton had already been raised in several places in that region.
Accordingly, a call was to be made for a number of families now residing around Salt Lake City to sell out here and move to this southern mission and there re-establish themselves. Only those who appeared to be of sturdy character, courageous, thrifty, obedient, faithful, and honest were to be chosen, for the country was reported to be dry and hot, rocky and forbidding, where much effort would be needed to bring the waters of the Rio Virgin out onto the higher ground.
Can you imagine the feelings of my father when he heard his name called off with the rest? Here he was past 51 years of age, with rather broken health; and he possessed a farm that he had dreamed of all his life. After building it up for fourteen years, was it right that he should leave it for lands unknown? Couldn't younger men who had not as yet obtained possessions here go much easier? Even though these thoughts might have surged through his mind, his bigger nature overcame them knowing that obedience to the call of the church was greater than all.
There was not time to waste either, for in three weeks' time they must be on their way or the weather might be too cold for travel. My father secured a good stout prairie schooner--most probably one brought in by Johnson's army three years before--and his yoke of oxen. A portion of the farm was sold to pay for these things, but the remainder of the farm and the house was leased, for while they never expected to come back to live, they felt that their share of the crops might be a great help while they were building up their new home, and maybe the money from the sale of it would be needed as much later as now.
So on November 1, 1861 my father and his wives, Isabel, Joan, and Margaret, with the two of Joan's boys boys, John and Ephriam, and his own two daughters Maria and myself bade goodbye to our loved home and turned our faces to the south. The company was led by Apostles Erastus Snow and Orson Pratt, who proved to be real leaders indeed. Though there was sort of a road most of the way, they could average little better than ten miles a day. The women and children who were able walked along ahead of the oxen and threw some of the rocks out of the way so that the wagons and contents would not be shook to pieced before the journey's end and also that they might escape some of that continual jolting. When they arrived at Peter's Leap they had to unload their wagons, take them apart and lower them a piece at a time with ropes over the ledge, the people climbing down the rocks as best they could. Upon their arrival at the bottom, the wagons were set up, reloaded, and the journey resumed.
We arrived at our destination early in December being just one month on the way, and though we had been traveling south all the time we had not left all the cold weather behind. Brother Carter, with his historic plow, plowed a straight furrow along the bed of the stream that ran south through the eastern part of the valley, and we all pitched our tents on either side of this, making one long straight street with tents in a double row along it. My father had brought a nice roomy tent--another relic of the army probably--and this with our wagon-box for a bedroom made up our lodging.
Our location seemed ideal at first, for it was located on dry, hard, white clay, and nothing to obstruct the direct rays of the sun. But we had not been here long before the "Big Rain" started and continued for nearly forty days. The parade ground became a sticky soggy bed that clung tenaciously to our feet every time we stepped into it till our shoes were completely hidden. Oh! how our parents must have longed for those comfortable homes and land they had left behind. At this time my mother gave birth to a son, and as both their lives were spared they were thankful indeed. This was my father's first son so he was named Matthew, of course.
This terrible rain was of some advantage however, for it showed them what mighty streams the Rio Virgin and Santa Clara Creek might become in flood time, and also that they must provide more permanent shelter for their families as soon as possible. So early in the year of '62 the permanent townsite was surveyed by Brother Robert Israel Ivins, and the people began moving onto their lots. Water ditches were plowed on the outside of the sidewalks and shade trees planted thereon--the cottonwood being popular because of its plentifulness as well as habit of producing quickly an abundant shade.
The drawing of lots was accomplished by putting the number of the lots in one box and the names of the men in another. As the number of a lot was drawn from the box which was held high above the head, the name of a man was drawn from the other box; the two were then put together and handed to the owner. If anyone did not like his location, he had the privilege of trading it if he could.
My father secured a lot in the southeast quarter of town just about a block away from the public square. My half brother, John Peterson, had one adjoining it on the west for he was old enough now to consider himself a man in these pioneer times.
The family soon moved to their new location and began building a home. A large rock foundation was made to rest the tent on, making the walls higher and the floor less drafty. The wagon box was also placed on a foundation and kept dry. The lots were planted with trees and currant bushes as well as vegetables, and as they grew exceptionally well here, the fruit soon furnished more than was needed by the family and could be traded or sold.
Before many years a large rock room was built on my father's lot with two smaller ones of rock and adobe on the south of it and one adobe room on the east. Though my father was a farmer by trade, he was naturally a handy man with tools, and the necessities of pioneering had taught him to do many things well. John too, worked with Miles Romney in the carpenter trade, so together they were able to provide a comfortable shelter for the family.
I well remember when we used the large room as a combined kitchen and dining room with a place in it for Aunt Isabel's beautifully covered bed. My mother's loom and beds were in the south rooms, and Aunt Margaret used the one on the east. Later a kitchen was added to the house, so the heat from the cook stove was removed from the large room.
The work of the three wives was quite definitely laid out, for Isabel being the first became the business head and general manager, and having no children of her own, was free to make these semi-annual trips to Salt Lake City, to bring back produce from the farm on Mill Creek, and in later years take up mollasses, dried fruit, etc., to trade for other commodities. Generally, John accompanied her as teamster, for the yoke of oxen was soon replaced for a team of horses names Puss and Charley--and such an improvement were they that only four or five weeks were required for the round trip.
My mother, Joan, spent most of her time at the loom weaving all sorts of cloth, for my father had made her a fine new loom soon after their marriage, and of course it was important enough to be brought along to Dixie with them. Maria and I used to spend a great deal of our time as soon as we were old enough, helping her by spooling, warping and quilling. We also helped Aunt Margaret with the housework, cooking and dishwashing, for most of that fell to her lot, and she never had any girls of her own. After living here several years, she did have a son though, and named him John Matthew, but he was always called Johnnie to distinguish him from the other two boys in the family, each bearing one of his names.
I had another sister born here at St. George, named Sarah Ellen Josephine after three of her relatives, but she was not very strong, or at least not strong enough to survive the hardships of this new home so did not stay with us very long.
While we were busy with the housework father and the boys spent most of their time working on the farm, his land being located at the southwest point of the Black Ridge, which runs along the eastern part of the valley. This point of the hill soon came to be called the Mansfield Hill and still bears the name. The river level was so low that very little land was available for farming at first, but by making a long ditch around the ridge and taking the water out higher up the stream, more land could be irrigated. A large wooden flume was also erected to carry the water across a low place to another higher piece of ground on the other side.
The nature of the river was such that it was almost impossible to keep the water in the ditches during the growing season for floods were frequent, and the quicksand river bottom was forever moving. Unlike the large farm at Mill Creek, this new one of my father's was small and rocky with gullies and washes making it very uneven.
Though discouraged times without number, they never thought of giving up, for they had been sent here to stay and this is what they meant to do until the place was established. Cotton was raised in such quantities that finally a cotton factory was built in this section and a great amount of cloth and batts was made here. Sorghum cane was also raised and the juice was boiled down intoDixie molasses, which was the chief substitute for sugar in this southern country.
All one summer father and Ephraim had spent all their spare time hauling rocks and dirt in a wheelbarrow to make a dike across the bottom of a wash so they might wash some dirt into it from above and make another piece of land; but just as the dike was completed, a cloudburst happened along and sent such a torrent of water down the swale that instead of dropping sediment behind the dam, it took the whole thing, rocks and all, on down to the Virgin. Eph felt this was a bit too much so when Bishop James Andrus called for volunteers to go after Indians who had killed some settlers out in the Pipe Spring country, he was only too glad to go. After the Indians were subdued, he obtained a job tending the cattle at Canaan Ranch, and so changed his occupation. But father still had his own sons Matthew and Johnnie to help him and so the farming went onl
During these long summer days Maria and I picked quarts and quarts of currants off our bushes on the lot, and we also dried peaches, selling the surplus. At harvest time we donned our bonnets and went to the fields and spent the days gleaning the heads of wheat that had been left around the edges after the grain had been cut. We also helped pick the cotton, besides helping with the carding and spinning after it was brought home. In the fall we always helped strip the leaves from the stocks of cane during the molasses-making season, for there was always so much to do in this new country that everyone was needed to help. Besides these heavier duties there was always carpet rags to sew, quilts to make, stockings to knit, clothing to sew, and, in fact, so many things to do that our recreation usually consisted in a change of occupation only.
On the corner lot just west of us lived Brother Benjamin Blake and his good wife and family and their home was a real social center for the neighborhood. His five daughters-Caroline, Elizabeth, Emma, Jane, and Harriet were hostesses for many evening groups. Brother Blake could play on the violin and his English wife was a remarkable story-teller, so the boys and girls of the neighborhood often dropped in for a little dancing, story-telling, home dramatics, or even a spelling match.
One Sunday evening when a crowd of us were there telling stories, etc., some in the big easy chairs that Brother Blake had made for his home and some in the sofa, we stayed on and on as young folks will do, little realizing how the time was passing. All at once I roused from my chair and looked around and everyone had dropped off to sleep where he was and here was the morning sun coming up in the east. I quietly slipped out the door and home. I did not need to explain for I had spent so many nights with Jane and Harriet that mother was not concerned at all when she knew I was there.
My first recollection of going to school was in the old willow schoolhouse located just a little over a block from our home. The only thing I remember clearly of those early days was standing up and reading the primer through without stopping. When this willow structure was replaced by an adobe one, which is still standing, I continued my studies in it. I also attended the fourth ward school, located in the center of the Court House block, the school held in the basement of the old Social Hall and also the one held in the basement of the Tabernacle. Among my teachers were Orpha Everett, Mr. Spencer, John M. MacFarlane, Mr. Peck, Mr. Kessler and James G. Bleak. The school term lasted usually only three or four months of the year, and instead of being promoted into grades our standing was judged by the reader we were using. McGuffey's was the most popular one used, and the little blue-backed speller was in constant demand. Interest in educational studies continued throughout the year, however, and spelling matches, oratorical contests, etc., furnished the program for many a recreational gathering. The Spencer home was the scene of these orthography contests among the young folks, with both Brother and Sister Spencer taking turns at giving out words. It was considered almost as great an honor to be a champion speller in those days as it is to be a basketball star now.
When picnics could be afforded, a candy-pulling match was held, but molasses was the only ingredient used, though sometimes some popcorn was secured and popcorn balls were made. When the almond trees produced a crop, these nuts were also added for variety. In fact, we enjoyed anything that we could raise, but hardly thought of those things that had to be bought with money--an article that was seldom seen for many years after our coming to Dixie.
Dances were always popular with us for we could dance our square dances on dirt floors when nothing better could be obtained. Produce was acceptable for the payment of tickets so everyone could attend. We girls, however, could not attend without a male escort, so if we were not lucky enough to have a boy friend, we had to make a bargain with our brothers to take us. Maria was so good looking that she always got there, but then so did I for that matter.
After the Social Hall was built, dramas were frequently given and the dances were held in the lower section. I remember such plays as "The Charcoal Burners," "East Lynn," "Black-eyed Susan," etc., that were well presented by local talent. Finally when the opera house was erected at the foot of the red hill with a much larger stage, two dressing rooms, side balconies, and a seating floor that could be lowered to get the desired incline for all the audience to conveniently see the play and then raised again to stage level for dancing, we felt that we had a wonderful building. Even though the sour smell of Dixie wine came up from the cellar built under the stage, we didn't mind for we had grown accustomed to it; then finally they stopped making wine so only the old perfume clinging to the timbers remained.
May Day was always popular with us, and most of the families of the community drove to the fields in wagons well loaded with children and refreshments, and a happy day was spent frolicing with Mother Nature. Years later when Charlie Dodge built a beautiful resort at his farm northwest of town with a large pond, lawns, abundant shade, roses, and a large strawberry patch close by with boating, swimming, and swinging, besides an open air dancing pavilian, May Day celebrations were the biggest events of the year.
Though there was always plenty of work to be done, we always had enough good times to enjoy ourselves and we got as much fun out of our rag-bees and quiltings as the moderns do out of their clubs and socials.
When I was nineteen years of age, I became engaged to a young man named William Oscar Bentley, my older sister Maria having already married Brigham Reese, a carpenter (mason) who was called here to work on the Temple. About this time Brother Birch, who lived at Bellvieu with his family, asked me if I would go to his home and teach his children for the summer. I was very glad to go for the money thus earned would help quite a bit towards supplying my hope chest. With $20 out of the $65 earned, I had Brother Birch, who was a merchant, send for twenty pounds of white goose feathers for a featherbed--and they were still in excellent condition after being in continuous service for over fifty years.
On my return from Belvieu, I taught a winter term here in St. George, the school closing in February. While I had been teaching, Oscar had built a nice two-storied adobe home just north of the public square on the lot adjoining his father's so I was looking forward to moving into a new home of my own. Imagine my feelings when just a few days before the wedding day, he told me he had sold this new home to his brother and had bought a farm at Middleton with a little house on it. Why he did it I never could understand for he had been tending his father's herds of horses and cattle besides doing freighting for his store, and I did not see how he could run a farm too. The wedding was nearly postponed indefinitely because of this, but finally I decided that marriage was for "better or worse" after all so I might just as well adjust at once. We were therefore married in the St. George Temple on Mar 5, 1879 and a family gathering was held at the Bently home in the evening. The next day a family dinner was held at my mother's home. After these festivities we loaded our belongings into the wagon and drove over to our own home. I was not alone here however for Oscar had hired Brother Oxborrow to come over and run the farm on shares and so he brought his wife with him and also his children. They soon decided that the farm could not support two families, so the Oxborrows moved back to town and a man was secured to help around the place. Some of these men were so strange that I was almost more afraid to be alone with them than without them. The mine at Silver Reef was booming then so all types of transcients were passing day or night, many coming in to ask for a meal or the privilege of sleeping in the barn, so I lived in constant fear from them.
My first child was born there but the second one was born in St. George. I could not content myself here, and besides the farming did not flourish with my husband away from home most of the time, so we finally sold the place and moved back to St. George.
Aunt Margaret had died some years before, and her son Johnnie had also died when nineteen years of age from a gunshot wound incurred while duck hunting. My other brother John had built a nice home on his lot, but he and his wife had moved out to Wayne County, as did also Matthew--the two boys marrying sisters--and Eph was still with the cattle business at Caanan. Father was nearly eighty years of age and was left without a single boy to help with the farming. He soon saw he was unable to do it alone so he and Aunt Isabel went back to Salt Lake and lived in part of the home on his farm on Mill Creek and were able to live on the rent he obtained from leasing the land. Mother had gone out into Nevada for a short visit with her son, Fred, so there were two homes on our family lots with nobody living in them. We lived in John's house for awhile, then on Mother's return moved into her home. Later we rented Joseph Judd's home nearby and spent the winter there, Mother coming to live with us as she was alone. But that winter was only unpleasant for we had sickness all the time and in March my mother passed away. I was never so thankful before when Oscar traded for a home of our own here in the city. The house had been built by Frank Wooley, but he had been killed by the Indians while coming from California. His children had married and none wanted to buy the old homestead. They therefore traded it to us for a band of horses, intending to raise horses to sell to the people. Our family now consisted of Mary Geneva, Clara Christine, William Oscar Jr., and Elizabeth, the last a babe of six months. On April 1, 1887 we moved into our own home and remained to this day; all our other children--Richard Gordon, Johanna Hazel, Matthew Mansfield, LeRoi, and Karl--have been born here.
Six years after moving into this home, Oscar was called to go on a mission to the Central States. We had very little cash and I would have six children to provide for during his absence, so I sometimes wondered how we would get through with it. He hauled a great pile of wood and provided me with flour and then left expecting us to get what we needed from the farm. I was expecting some money from my brother which he had borrowed when my father's estate was settled, my father having passed away at Mill Creek in 1891. But this failed to come and during the first winter that Oscar was gone, we had so many colds among the children that practically all of the wood was burned trying to keep us warm with an open grate. The farm did not prove very profitable, and none of the children were old enough to help much, so I soon wore myself out trying to keep things together. We did manage to get some cottonwoods hauled up from the field but were having a hard time getting them chopped; then Brother George Cottom, an old friend of ours, brought some men and chopped and split the whole pile for us. Surely one appreciates such a friendly act in times of need. With the little money I received from the estate we managed to live until the mission was over and we sent Oscar what he needed for his expenses.
In 1897 I had the privilege of going to Salt Lake City to attend the Jubilee held there on July 24th to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the arrival of the pioneers and to visit my old home and friends. Other trips have been made later, but perhaps none were enjoyed quite so much as this one.
When our last child, a boy named Karl, was ten months old he passed away. This was the first death in our family. On March 15, 1920 my husband died suddenly of heart failure, and as most of the children had married, this left me almost alone; but the good
old home is still providing shelter for me and mine.
submitted by Sterling and Laurelle Gerber
