A peek at the past

An excerpt from our family history, this month fea­turing John Leigh (1600–1671) and Anne (or Joanne) Hungerford (1605–1684), the eighth-great-grand­parents of my siblings and me

Our earliest known ancestors to come to colonial America were John Leigh and Anne Hun­gerford. We do not know the circumstances of their arri­val, but they were both in Massachu­setts by the time they married in Boston in 1638, just eight years after Puritan settlers from England founded the town.

Spellings of names in the 17th century were not consistent, even for the same person, and a com­mon variant of Leigh shows up as Lee. John and some of his children appear in records with either spelling. Later generations spelled the name Lee.

John was born in Chigwell, Essex, England in April 1600. The names of his parents are not known. Tradition holds that “John Lee was of an ancient and honorable family of the city of Lon­don, and lived with his parents, being well in­structed in the principles of the Christian religion, and fitted for business at home, or abroad, in the world by sea, or land.”[1]

Family tradition states “that John was son of a Londoner of means, prob­ably a merchant, that he had an elder sister, that he kept doubtful com­pany and was of a rebel­lious spirit, and that he was sent to the country to keep him out of mis­chief. We trace him from this time on in the records preserved at Salem, and find that it took several severe admo­nitions from the Puritan rulers to keep down this spirit of mis­chief which seems to have been troubling him in his early years, at least.”[2] And then followed a listing of John’s convictions and fines:

- October 1634: Fined for speaking reproach­fully of the governor.

- 1641: Accused, tried, found guilty for stealing the Widow Haffield’s Bible; fined to pay the wid­ow 15s [shillings] for her Bible and 10s for lying about it.

- March 1660: Complained of on suspicion of intent to wound an ox and kill a pig; not proven.

- May 1660: Fined for railing speeches; fine re­leased.

- March 1665: Fined for contempt for non-appearance at court.

- Mar. 27, 1667: Brought before court to answer for working in his swamp on Sunday, but brought witnesses to prove he was putting out a fire, and so was discharged.

Anne was born in 1605 in Farleigh Hunger­ford Castle, Somerset, England, the youngest of six children born to Sir Anthony Hungerford Knight (1567–1627) and Lucy Farley (1560–1627). The “Knight” at the end of her father’s name was likely a title and not a sur­name. Her father’s line back at least nine generations (back into the early 13th century) all bore the name Hungerford.

Anne and her brother Thomas came to New England together, probably landing in Boston. Thomas settled in Connecticut. And Anne re­mained in Boston or thereabouts, where she mar­ried John.

After their marriage in Boston, John and Anne became the parents of at least five children: John (born in 1639), Joseph (1643, through whom we are descended), Sarah (1645), Mary (1649), and Ann (1651). There may have been other children, probably including infants who died.

The family lived in Ipswich, where all of the children were born and where John eventually died. Originally called Agawam, Ipswich is a coastal town in Essex County, Massachusetts, about 28 miles northeast of Boston. It was found­ed in 1634 by John Winthrop the Younger, son of the John Winthrop who was one of the founders of the Massachu­setts Bay Colony in 1630 and its first elected gov­ernor. The early in­habitants of Ipswich were farmers, fisher­men, shipbuilders, or traders.

John was a land­owner and a farmer. Based on an inventory at his death, we know that he grew flaxseed, rye, Indian corn, barley, oats, and hay. He had horses, cows, oxen, steers, sheep, and pigs.

“John Leigh at the time of his death dwelt in a house at Heartbreak Hill, which was sur­rounded by an orchard and con­siderable land, which with a barn and outhouses constituted the homestead. Besides he had meadow pasture and arable land; with land on Hog Island which was marsh land where he raised hay and used his canoe to reach it.”[3]

John died on July 8, 1671, in Ipswich at age 71. Anne lived another 13 years before she died on September 30, 1684, in Concord at age 78 or 79.

---

[1] William Lee (comp.), John Leigh of Agawam (Ipswich) Massa­chusetts and His Descendants of the Name of Lee (Albany, New York: 1888), 65 (online at http://www.archive.org/details/ johnleighofagawa00leew).

[2] Ibid., 68–69.

 [3] Ibid., 80.

1 Nelson Holder Ritchie [4]

The last of a four-part history of Nelson Holder Ritchie (1840–1913), written in 1975 by a daughter, Grace Ritchie Ashton. Nelson married as his second wife Annie Cowan Russell (1857–1950), and they were the parents of Olive Ellen Ritchie Cleverly (1881–1945), who was the mother of Ivard R Cleverly (1915–1988).


Just another little sweet thing Aldus, Blanch's young son, said when Father died he was about three years old. His father and mother lived with us at the time. He happened to get in the room where Father was layed out, and we did not know it. He came out with such big eyes and said, "Papa’s feet cold!" He loved his Papa so very much, as Father used to care for him and sing to him when he was baby-sitting.

We went up the canyon in Parleys, and the road was not very wide. We came to a very narrow place in the road, where we met another man on a load of logs. We tried to give him all the room we could so we would not go down in the ditch, but this load of logs tipped over, and the man, a Mr. Bullock, got his leg broken. Father did all he could to help him. I believe he even took him down to his home in Sugar House and helped him.

I remember when we had such a lot of pigs, and the meanest one got out of the pen. Before Father could get his pitchfork, the pig took after him. He turned to run and caught his foot in a wire and fell flat. Then Father called a dog we had by the name of Rover, and that is all that saved Father's life. It was not long after that he killed the pig, and we had a lot of good meat from him.

When the creek got high water, Father used to watch it, as the train to Park City crossed it. He stopped the train lots of times for them to see if it was safe to go over. He was always thinking of someone else.

When Father lived in Kansas he belonged to the Masons. I have an apron Father had, and it has the all-seeing eye and horn of plenty and birds and other things on a white hide of some kind with blue all around it, with an envelope piece across it, with a sash. Our father, as I was told, was a very high Mason in the order. Father told me when he first came to Utah and lived in Salt Lake City, he used to have his Mason pin on, and he got so many high signs of distress that he could not take care of them all, so he threw his pin away. I am sorry, I wish I had it with my apron.

This order came down from the time of Solomon's temple, and each man is to help his brother. That is why the Prophet Joseph Smith joined the Masons. Did they help him? No, they killed him and never lived up to their own teachings.

I have a picture, which was sent to me from our cousin, Earl Lynch. It is of our father's big barn in Great Bend, Kansas. It has "N. H. Ritchie" across the front, with horses and buggies and some men who worked for Father, and Father standing near a beautiful horse. I was very happy to get this picture. I am sorry it was late coming to me, as I did want Bessie to see it. But she was not able to.

We lived in Sugar House for a while because we lived so far away from the street car. May worked in the telephone company nights, so Father moved us down there so she would be close to the street car, and most of the time Father was up at the old place alone taking care of his chickens and pigs. May had an operation, and I remember Ivard, the man she later married, used to come and see her. That is the house we lived in when Alvie came home from the Navy and where he would not see Father. Well, he lived to regret it. No boy could have had a better father than we had. When he married his wife, Alvie's wife said that Alvie was like a baby name, and she called him Jim, as his name was James Alvie.

While we were in Sugar House, I wanted to go up to the old place and asked if I could take the horse and buggy and was told no. Well, I made up my mind I would go anyway, so out I went and got ready and started out the back way and only went about 200 feet when the horse fell down and broke the buggy, and I had to go back and ask Father to help. Well, he was not hard on me. He only said, "If you had listened, this would not have happened." I often think how kind and good Father was to us all.

He used to do express work. He always was on West Temple and Second South, and he picked up quite a bit of work that way. Someone asked him to bring something up on First Avenue, and I remember it was cold and ice on the streets. Old Prince could not go up that hill, so Father got out and placed sacks so the horse could walk up that hill. And that horse did just that, stepped on those sacks. Father was very good to everything he had on the place.

I can't remember Father ever being sick. I know when I was sick how good he and Mother were to me when I was about seven or eight years old.

Another thing I remember, the girls used to go to the Hadley place, not far away, to play cards with their children. That family were not the kind of people Father wanted his girls to be friends with, so one time Father came over to where they were playing cards and said for them to come home, and on the way home he said, "If you want to play cards, do it in our home." I don't remember their going there anymore.

Bessie was soon married, and May was going to school. Blanch was not a well girl but would never say anything and do the work. I just do remember this, but Father would help his children with the work because Mother was working also, and Father helped in the house so Mother could rest when she came home. Father felt bad because Mother had to work away from home to help the family, but Mother was always willing to do her part. But they both had a hard life after they came to Utah to make a living, as work was hard to get.

I thank God that they joined the Church and came to Utah.

When Father died, we had him home all the time. It was on January 28, 1913, very cold and icy, and we could hardly get up the grade, as we lived in a low place and had a small hill to climb, and the horses could hardly get up there. We went to Parleys Ward about a mile or so away, and that little church was so full no more could get in it. Sister Cook sang "Oh, My Father" and "Somewhere," and Uncle William C. Mann spoke, also Bishop Whitaker. I don’t remember who prayed. Then we took Father to Bountiful to his resting place, a place he bought in 1896 to lay away another little son. The lot was large enough for eight people, and right as you go in the graveyard, Nelson Holder, Mother, James Alvie, Esther, and my daughter Ruth, who got burned, and Father. He was always looking ahead to help others. Elsie gave us a little tree, and we planted it there, and now it is a beautiful, big tree. Mother also put a headstone. There is still room for two more, so I hope to be laid away there.

I had a dream a few years ago. I dreamed I was in a big room, and there were many children laughing and playing. As I stood looking around, I saw a door ahead of me, and a man came in with his hand over most of his face. And the thought went through my mind, "Is that my father?" Then he took his hand away, and it was Nelson Holder Ritchie, my father, in a beautiful white robe.

I ran over to him and put my arms around him and could feel his body and laughed and said how glad I was to see him. He smiled and said, "Come, meet my wife." As we walked the children were still having a wonderful time and were so happy. We came to where a lady sat, and she looked a lot like my sister Elsie, and Father said, "I want you to meet my daughter, Grace Ritchie."

She looked up at me and never said anything. We walked away and came to a table where Father was doing something there, and I said, "Father, let me do that."

He said, "Oh, I can do it," but I insisted, and he said, "Oh, I believe I will" and walked away. Then I awoke, and I did not remember what it was I was going to do for him. It has made me wonder, so I may have to humble myself and ask my Father in Heaven what it was I told him I would do.

I have often wondered if my father was already resur­rected, as I felt his body so vividly.

When we lived near Beck's Hot Springs (that is where Russell was born and where Olive was married), one night a man came to the door and asked for something to eat, and Mother and Father had him come in and set him up to the table. He thanked them for the food and left. After Mother had a feeling he was different. It was a beautiful clear moonlit night, and she asked Alvie to go out and see where that man went to. He did and walked all around and could not find him and came in and said he was nowhere to be seen. Then they felt they had a wonderful visitor at their home. He could have been one of the Three Nephites who was given the right to live till the Savior should come again on the earth.

Father always said it is better to help and feed all men than to turn one away, for we never know who we may have visit us. Angels unaware.

1 Nelson Holder Ritchie [3]

The third of a four-part history of Nelson Holder Ritchie (1840–1913), written in 1975 by a daughter, Grace Ritchie Ashton. Nelson married as his second wife Annie Cowan Russell (1857–1950), and they were the parents of Olive Ellen Ritchie Cleverly (1881–1945), who was the mother of Ivard R Cleverly (1915–1988).

Mother, May, and Elsie went to Kansas to see her mother, Elizabeth Householder Russell. Esther, Russell, and Grace were with Father. At this time a big circus was in town, and I wanted to see it. I kept after Father to take us, and he was busy taking care of chickens and pigs. I had a wire in my hands that we could catch chickens with, and I hurt the dog's leg and made him howl. Father could not stand to see us hurt anything. He said, "No circus. When you learn to be good to all things, then I will be good to you."

When I was about seven or eight years old, Mother went to Liberty Park, not too far from where we lived. I wanted to go with her; she was with a lot of other ladies. Well, after she left I got my only dress on, which was red, and I had a little bucket with some bread in it and went to the park looking for Mother. I had all kinds of people asking me to eat with them, and I went from group to group but never did find Mother. By this time it began to get dark, and some people told me they better take me home, and did I know where I lived? I did, so we got nearly out of the park when here came my dear father in his spring wagon to find me. I called out to him, and he thanked the people who were looking out for me. I don't remember what Mother did to me, for I was gone all day (I bet I was dirty).

I was very sick, and Father had to stay away so he could work. He sent a big orange-colored rocking chair to our house, and the men set it half way from the street to our house. That was some chair. Father loved to sit in it.

Years after Father died, we had a nice experience with it. Elsie was about 14 or 15 years old, and some girl from Bountiful came to the house and wanted to go to the dance in Salt Lake. Mother and I said she was too young to go alone to the dance. Elsie began to cry and made a big fuss about it and said she was going, but we told the girl to go home because Elsie could not go. Elsie said she would break the windows and go anyway. Just about that time, this rocking chair began to rock with no one in it. Mother and I both knew Father was there in that chair, and it nearly frightened Elsie to death when she saw it. She settled down and was a much better girl after that. Elsie married on her 17th birthday and had 11 children, two girls who died and nine boys. (In October 1973 I asked Elsie if she remembered the chair rocking, and she said, "I will never forget it." She is now 70 years old.) This experience helped me to know we are very close to the spirit world, and those may be able to help when needed.

I was told in my blessing that I chose my parents before I was born in the world. I have seen my father in dreams telling me things I should do and not do. I saw him in a beautiful white robe. He used to go to church with us and loved to hear J. Golden Kimball speak.

We always went up to Olive and Will Cleverly's place for Thanksgiving dinner, and Father used to heat bricks for us to put our feet on in the wagon. His grandchildren, all who knew him, loved him. He had a way with him that you could not help like or love Nelson Holder Ritchie.

He received his patriarchal blessing on May 13, 1912, just eight months before he died. Nelson Holder Ritchie was 72 years and 5 months old when he died January 28, 1913. His first wife was Mary Samantha Fullbright. She died August 18, 1871. They had one son who died the same year, 1871. He lived in Great Bend, Kansas. At one time he was a very rich man. He married Annie Cowan Russell six years later. They had 12 children. They joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints about the year 1890 and came to Utah in 1892 or 1893 at the time the Salt Lake Temple was dedicated. Nelson was a very good, kind man and loved all men.

Father had cataracts and was in the hospital about two weeks to have them removed. He came home Thursday or Friday and went to the door and called to his horse, Prince, and the horse answered back. They sure did understand each other. Monday night I was reading The Wizard of Oz. It was so good I could not leave it alone and forgot what time it was. I was reading by an oil lamp when Father said, "Grace, go to bed. It's one o’clock."

I said, "All right," and in the morning when I got up at 7:00 a.m. to get ready for school, Mother said, "Girls, your father is dead." He must have passed on as he went to sleep, as he was laying on his back, and a ridge was right down the middle of the bed so that Mother did not touch him all night.

I must tell a few more things. James Alvie went in the Navy for four years. Father loved that boy, and while he had money to do for him he gave him everything. When Alvie went in the Navy and Father took the place in Parleys Canyon, Alvie got going with a fellow there who had it in for his father, and I guess Jim got to thinking about how Father had never done for him after they came to Utah, so when he came home from the Navy he would not let Father see or talk to him. That was hard on Father because of the love he had for him. When we called Jim to tell him Father had died, he was the first one there and sat there for hours and went to the services and even paid the bill. James Alvie had not forgotten the love he had for Father. Years later one of Alvie's daughters did the same thing to him that he loved much, and when Alvie died Vinnie nearly died herself.

Someday if we all live good lives and repent of all our sins and do the work of the Lord, we will all have a chance to know our father and grandfather and be with him and know for ourselves what kind of a man he was, and our mother, Annie Cowan Russell Ritchie, will be right with him.
Here are the names of their children:

1. William Holder (Willie) was born December 31, 1877, in Great Bend, Kansas, and died March 15, 1884.

2. Bertie Elwood was born April 19, 1879, in Great Bend, Kansas, and died July 12, 1880.

3. Olive Ellen was born March 21, 1881, in Great Bend, Kansas. She married Henry William Cleverly, and they had 13 children, including two sets of twin boys. She died March 28, 1945.

4. James Alvie was born February 12, 1883, in Great Bend, Kansas. He married Millie Shulsen, and they had seven children. He died July 10, 1928.

5. Elizabeth (Bessie) was born November 17, 1884, in Great Bend, Kansas. She married Willis Rogers January 13, 1904, and they had ten children, of whom nine were boys and one a girl. They had one set of twin boys. She died February 10, 1970.

6. Annie May was born December 19, 1886, in Great Bend, Kansas. She married Ivard Rathborn, and they had only one child who died at birth. May died a week later on March 3, 1912.

7. Blanch was born January 12, 1889, in Great Bend, Kansas. She married Charles Edward Davidson, and they had four children. She died while expecting a fifth child on March 28, 1918.

8. Esther was born June 27, 1891, in Great Bend, Kansas. She married Orson Edwards, and they had three children. She died December 23, 1959.

9. Nelson Holder was born October 16, 1893, in Centerville, Utah, and died March 29, 1896.

10. Grace Samantha was born July 11, 1896, in Bountiful, Utah. She married Victor H. P. Gerhardt, and they had two daughters before they divorced. She married Bert Searle, and they had one daughter before they divorced. She married Orvis I. Mann, who died. And finally she married Wilford S. Ashton 23 years later. He was her old sweetheart.

11. Russell Dewey was born November 21, 1898, in Salt Lake City, Utah. He married Lois Elva Myers, and they had one son. Lois died in 1972, and he married Sylvia.

12. Elsie Virginia was born April 14, 1903, in Salt Lake City, Utah. She married Angus Leroy Olson, and they had six children before he died. She then married William Robert Langston, and they had five boys.

At the time of this writing, all of the family are gone except for the last three children—Grace, Russell, and Elsie—who are all in their seventies. There are many grandchildren and great-grandchildren, even to the fourth and fifth generations. So I don't know how many we have who belong to these wonderful people, Nelson Holder Ritchie and Annie Cowan Russell.

1 Nelson Holder Ritchie [2]

The second of a four-part history of Nelson Holder Ritchie (1840–1913), written in 1975 by a daughter, Grace Ritchie Ashton. Nelson married as his second wife Annie Cowan Russell (1857–1950), and they were the parents of Olive Ellen Ritchie Cleverly (1881–1945), who was the mother of Ivard R Cleverly (1915–1988).

Before they left Kansas, Father received a letter from the government telling him he could go to Oklahoma to take up 160 acres of land for each of his children, also himself and his wife. Father went down there to look it over, and when he came back he told Mother that that was no place to take a family to raise. I see now it was a blessing for us all to come to Utah where the Saints are and the House of the Lord.

Nelson and his family came to Utah in 1892 and went to Bountiful to live. They stayed with Elder Mann until they found a house in Centerville a mile away. Father worked for the railroad in Centerville as freight agent. At Centerville another boy was born, and he was named Nelson Holder. He was born October 16, 1893, and died March 19, 1896, in Bountiful and was laid away in Bountiful cemetery. Father was the first person to plant trees and flowers there, but the trees died because they lived too far away to water them.

While they lived in Centerville, Olive, their oldest daughter, had a very bad sickness. There was a pond across the tracks, and she went swimming when she should not. Old Dr. Stringham came to take care of her. At last he told Mother he had done all he could for her and it would be up to the priesthood to save her life. Father at the time was in Salt Lake City on business, and this is what he found when he came home. After the doctor left, Mother and Bessie were sitting watching her, when all at once Olive raised up in bed holding her hands out saying, "Willie, take me with you." Then she turned to Mother and said that Willie was there in the wall with a lot of roses beneath him and that he said she couldn't go with him for she had a lot of work to do here. Olive still cried out for Willie to take her, and then she saw a lady beneath him and said, "Who is that woman down there?" and he said that it was Papa's first wife and "she wants her temple work done."

When Father arrived home, he was told what had happened to Olive, and he could hardly believe it. He asked Olive how the woman was dressed, and Olive told him. Father said, "That is the way I laid her away." And then Olive told them that she asked Willie why this lady looked so sad, and Willie said, "She is not in as high a glory as I am."

The next day Olive opened the door for Dr. Stringham, and she did live a long good life and gave birth to 13 children. She raised all but one who died as a baby, and they all had families except for one son. Olive was a very spiritual-minded person all her life, and everybody loved her. She was kind to all she knew.

Three months and eleven days after Nelson Holder died, Mother had another child, a girl named Grace Samantha. She was born July 11, 1896, in Bountiful, Utah.

Father hurt himself lifting such heavy things that he had to give up the railroad job, and they moved to Beck Hot Springs or now North Salt Lake. We lived in a rock house, and Russell was born there November 21, 1898. A month later Olive was married to Henry William Cleverly. She took me to live with them because Mother had this new baby and was not so well. I was going on three years old and lived with Olive until just before her first child was born, which was in November.

Father had a very hard time to keep things to eat, and he did everything he could. He even went up on the mountain to the old McNeil place to raise turkeys, and when they were ready for market someone beat him to it, and he lost them all. Someone stole them.

Then he took a lease on a fruit farm in Provo, now Orem. They made a little on that. I just remember going down there. That was before I went to school. Father came back to Salt Lake City and made a payment on a house just off south Second West south of 13th South. We had a big St. Bernard dog; he was a beauty. We had a lot of fun with him. He went out nights and killed sheep so we had to lose him. That was a hard time for all of us. Father had a little spring wagon and sold fruit and nearly every night when he came home the children came running to see what he had left and always received some little thing, apple or fruit. Father was good to all children. He was very tender hearted and would always say, "Let your mother take care of you" when we were bad.

Now about this time James Alvie could not get work, so he went in the Navy. Because he was under age, Mother and Father had to say they were willing to let him go. I can see my mother crying, and Father stayed out of the picture so he could not see him, as he felt so bad. Alvie left home for four years. He used to write and send $10 home to help pay for the house, but Father had a chance to trade for a place in the mouth of Parleys Canyon. When Alvie found we had moved, he would not send any more money to help out. Mother went to work to help make ends meet. Before we went to Parleys Canyon, Mother had a daughter born April 14, 1903, and she was named Elsie Virginia. She was about two years old when we moved there. Father farmed and raised chickens and pigs, and we had geese, dogs, and cats, a cow sometimes, a horse, and a ginnie, which we kids loved. She was good and kind, and we had some good times with her.

Russell was now about ten years old and a cute boy with light curly hair. One day Father took him to Salt Lake and told him he could look in the store windows till he got ready to come home. It was near to Christmastime, and while he was looking some well dressed lady came and talked with him and saw he was not dressed very well. She asked him where he lived and what his name was, and he told her. When Christmas morning came, you should have seen the lovely things they gave us—things to eat as well as books and toys.

They loved Russell. He was a sweet clean boy, and we used to play ball with our friends around where we lived. Father had a horse called Prince and a dog Bonce. That horse and dog knew how much he loved them, for they loved him. After we left the place and my sister Blanch and her family went to live there, the dog and horse walked away and never did come back again.

Father was a hard working man all his life and a good father and husband. One day I was a bad girl—I don’t remem­ber what I did—but anyway I ran and hid myself under some rose bushes, as we kids had a play house there, and there was an old quilt, and I laid down, and the first thing I knew I was fast asleep. When I came to myself, it was dark, and I kept thinking Father would soon come home, and I would go in the house. We had some geese that always made a big noise when Father came home, but there was no noise, so I began to be afraid a little while when Father let me in. I went to bed and was very sick, I guess from nerves. My mother did not whip me; I guess she felt sorry for me when I was so sick. And to think after Mother and Father had worked hard all day, I had them looking all over the place for me.

Mother worked hard all the time we lived in the canyon. As a little girl I never saw much of her—only at night. Father would say, "Girls, clean up the place so your mother can rest." He used to bring Mother an apple nearly all the time and say he was sorry he didn't have one for all. But we knew how he felt about Mother. Mother used to go to choir practice and take Esther and me with her. That is where I learned to sing all our beautiful songs.

May, my sister, came third in winning a piano, and she paid $250 for it. That was in about 1910. (Today, 1975, I have the piano after all those years.) My father loved music and wished he could have had me take piano lessons. I got a keyboard that helped a lot and could play a little, and I started to learn "Oh, My Father," a song my father loved. Well, after he passed away I learned it, and I feel like I am playing it for him.

Mother loved to read, and she read to us children, which made me read and want to know things for myself. She also taught us to pray. Father was a great man of faith, and he would have us pray, and he prayed always. When Father and Mother were married, he said, "Let's quit drinking coffee and tea and other drinks that we know are not good for us or our children." And they did, and Father always wanted us children to be good and live clean. I remember Mother telling us that in Great Bend a man was going to hang. Father was getting ready to go out with the rest of the town. While he was getting ready, Mother was also, and he asked where she was going.

She said, "With you."

Father said, "Oh, you can't do that."

And she said, "Well, if you go, so do I."

So Father said he wouldn't go, and years later he was happy he never had a part in the hanging.

Father always called my mother Dove. I never heard him call her Annie. It was always Dove or "your mother." He loved her dearly. We always called him Papa. To let you know what kind of man he was, he was going to dig a well and Mother asked him when he was going to do it so we wouldn't have to pack water from the creek or go up the hill to get it. Well, he said that he had changed his mind because if he dug it there then the man up on the hill wouldn't have any water. That was the way he was, always thinking about the other fellow.

I remember when we moved we only had two rooms, and there was a nice shed which with a little help could be put up to the house and give us three more rooms. Father had the shed up to the house, and he needed some strong arm to put it where it belonged. So one day a young man came to Father and said, "I see you need some help," and Father told him that he did, so the man helped him put it in place. The man gave Mother a book and told her to read it, but we were all messed up at the time, and she did not read it. When the man left and things began to look better, she remembered the book but never found it. She never did know what was in it. We always felt like he was sent to help us, as we needed it so badly because all of us children were just little kids at the time. It could have been one of the Three Nephites. As far as I know, my father never turned anyone away who asked for help.

It was in the wintertime and very cold when a man came and asked to stay all night, as he was going to Park City. Father did not like the looks of him, but he took him in and gave him something to eat and made a bed in own bedroom in front of the big fireplace with a fire in it. Father never slept that night for watching that man and the next morning sent him on his way.

1 Nelson Holder Ritchie

The first of a four-part edited history of Nelson Holder Ritchie (1840–1913), written in 1975 by a daughter, Grace Ritchie Ashton, when she was in her seventies. Nelson married as his second wife Annie Cowan Russell (1857–1950), and they were the parents of Olive Ellen Ritchie Cleverly (1881–1945), who was the mother of Ivard R Cleverly (1915–1988).

In the year 1840, on August 24, Nelson Holder was born in Lawrence County, Missouri. He told us he was raised by an old Scotch lady, as his mother died when he was a baby and his father died before he was born. Nelson went to Topeka, Kansas, and met a John Ritchie, whom he lived with. The man loved Nelson and wanted to adopt him. Nelson said no, but that he would take his name—Ritchie—because he was so good to him. It was at the close of the Civil War, and Nelson got in on the last part of it. He was in the Cavalry and had a good horse. He had his hat with a few bullet holes in it, but he never was hurt. He was in his twenties at the time of the war.

He was a very good looking man over six feet tall, about 200 pounds, black curly hair, a good clean man. John Ritchie wanted to send Nelson to school, but I never remember why he did not go.

He later met a very lovely girl by the name of Mary Samantha Fullbright and married her about the year 1866. They had a son born in 1871, whom they named John Eddie. Father used to tell us about him. He was only a few weeks old and seemed to be looking at everything in the room. They had a pretty ceiling and he loved to look at that. His wife and baby both died in the year of 1871. Father told us children he always thought an old black Mammy poisoned them.

I don't know where he lived in Kansas at that time, but when our mother came into the picture he was in Great Bend, Kansas. Nelson had gathered around him a big business and was a rich man. He had a hotel and barns with many beautiful horses, and people worked for him. He took the U.S. mail to the trains every day and carried mail back to the town. He had a livery stable where he had horses and carriages for hire, or where people could leave their horses to be fed for a fixed charge. One time little Tom Thumb, who were dwarfs (or very small people), came and stayed at Father's hotel and had their horses taken care of. Tom Thumb was a man who knew what he wanted. He smoked a big cigar. They were cute little people.

It was now six years since Nelson's wife died. One day Nelson was over to St. John, about 25 miles away from Great Bend, visiting with friends named Kindle. There he met a very beautiful young woman who had come from Pennsylvania with a group of people for to build up Zion. William Bigerton was their leader. He was given the priesthood by Sidney Rigdon, who had been cut off The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Well, Nelson fell in love with Annie Russell, and Annie began to think he was a good catch, so she married him December 21, 1876. They lived in a cute pink house not far away from the hotel (I think this house was across the street from the hotel) in Great Bend. The town was on the bend of the river.

Annie soon had her people out there. Her father worked in the coal mines, and she had a brother, William or Billy, as he was called, who was killed in the mine. Her sisters worked in the hotel, and Annie helped with the cooking. They had a French cook, and Mother said she was a good one. One day just when breakfast was about ready, they had a fire. Mother and her sisters swept up the tablecloths with everything in them to save them. They soon had the fire out, but what a mess.

Their first son, Willie, was born December 31, 1877. When he was a year and a half old, he fell off the porch and broke his hip. Father took him to Topeka to a good doctor, but they did not know what was wrong. He died when he was six years old, and then they found out his hip was broken. They had three other children born before Willie died: Olive Ellen, Bertie, and James Alvie. Bertie was before Olive, and he died when he was about two years old. Father felt so bad, here Willie was sick and Bertie taken from them.

Now I must tell about Willie. Not long before his passing, he said to Father that he was going to die and asked him to let him go. Father said, "I can't let you go."

Willie had Mother take him all over the house and said to her, "Do you own this house?"

Mother said, "Yes."

Willie asked, "Do you have plenty to eat, such as pies and other good things to eat?" He was told they had plenty, then he said, "I want you to give my little dog to Grandma Dickens." They started to take the dog when he said, "Not yet." Then Willie told them he loved them both just the same. He still asked his father to let him go, and when Father told him he could go he soon passed away and was free of all the pain he had.

So now Nelson still had James Alvie, and he loved him dearly. He did everything he could for him. Nelson loved children, and they loved him. He was kind and loving to all. Father and Mother had eight children in Kansas: five girls and three boys.

One day May got lost in the high grass and could not find her way out. The whole town turned out to look for her, and when she was found she went to Father and cried saying, "You went right past me and never picked me up!" She was a very quiet child and never called out to her Papa. May and Father loved each other dearly, for when she married and was leaving for Mississippi, she could hardly pull herself away from him, and she said, "If I go away I shall never see you again." She cried, and her husband said, "Come on or we will miss the train." She had a baby a year later there. The baby died, and she died a week later. When the news came, we had to sit Father down, so we could tell him the sad news. A few weeks before this he had a dream and saw a fire coming very fast, and he told us he knew something was wrong. Father died less than ten months after in his sleep, but I have gone ahead of my story.

Father was very good to Mother's people. He helped them get on their feet, and most of them stayed in Kansas. Three sisters went to Kirtland, Ohio, in later years.

Another railroad was talking of coming through Great Bend, and the people wanted to buy Father out. They offered him $80,000 for his place, but Father said it was worth $100,000 to him. Well, they would not give him that. Mother tried to talk him into taking it, but he would not. A few years later another hotel came up in town, and Father spent a lot of money on his and had a man take charge, and before he knew it he had lost all his property. He was bankrupt and lost everything. The railroad never did go through, and the people of the town came to Father and said they were glad he never sold it, for it would have broken the town.

Father worried so much Mother was afraid to leave him alone. One day he told Mother he wanted to go to Old Mexico, and Mother said, "If you want to leave, let's go to Utah."

Why Utah? Well, I forgot to tell about the missionaries coming a while before all this happened. Elder William C. Mann and another elder (I never knew his name) came to see them. Father was a very generous and honest man and believed everyone was that way. These elders taught the gospel of Jesus Christ to them and the family accepted it. The elders stayed with him every time they came to Great Bend. Elder Mann lived in Bountiful, Utah. The name of Father's hotel was the Union Hotel. Over the side of his big barn was "Nelson H. Ritchie."

I must go back a bit. When Nelson wanted to go to war, he had a hard time to get in the service because he had some Cherokee Indian blood from his mother's side. The lady who took care of Nelson when he was young used to say, "You look just like old Vincent, your grandfather." He made it right at the last of the war, and he used to tell us about the boys singing in the camp. He loved to sing and lots of times in later years, when his grandchildren were left with him to be looked after, he would sing to them and they loved it.

1 Charles Batt's final years

Charles Batt (1861–1949) married Eliza Brazier in England before they accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. Most of his history details their life after they came to Utah. This is the last of six installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 22–23). Charles was the father of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandfather of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

Eliza and Charles spent many happy days together remem­ber­ing all the happiness, strug­gles, and heartaches they had shared. They watched all the children marry and start homes for them­selves. They were both happy with all the grand­children arriving. It was a life well spent.

On February 13, 1926, Eliza passed away. She died in her lovely new home that she loved so well at 527 East Fifth North, Logan, Utah. After she passed away, Charles was very lonely. All the child­ren were in homes of their own, and he missed his own loving wife so much.

After three years had passed away, he married Rosalea Stephens Dee on June 13, 1929. She was a good companion for him. They had seven good years together before she died July 29, 1936. She was buried August 2, 1936, by the side of Eliza in the Logan cemetery.

Charles was alone again for nearly two years. At this time he decided to make one Emily Roseina Hart Wood­ward his wife. They were married July 2, 1938, and were together until her death a year and a half later on Janu­ary 2, 1940. The Batt lot in the Logan ceme­tery is also the resting place for this third wife.

In his late years, Charles lost his eyesight and also his hear­ing. He moved to Salt Lake City to be with his young­est daughter, Myrtle, who gave him loving care until his death. He died in her home on Sep­tember 17, 1949, exactly one week short of his 88th birthday. He was survived by his remaining child­ren—William, Pearl, Ruby, Myrtle, Charles Gladstone, and Morley. Cecily had passed away in July 1939. He was also survived by 20 grandchild­ren and 35 great-grand­children. Charles’s body was taken back to Logan, his home, and was buried in the Batt lot in the Logan cemetery.

1 The years speed by

Charles Batt (1861–1949) married Eliza Brazier in England before they accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. Most of his history details their life after they came to Utah. This is the fifth of six installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 21–22). Charles was the father of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandfather of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

Things brightened up for the Batt family. Charles had a steady job at the college with a regu­lar paycheck. They had a garden, fruit trees, a cow, a pig, and some chickens. Before President Sanborne left Logan and the college, he traded Charles the hill he had home­steaded for the house and the lot the Batt family had lived in that belonged to him, Mr. Sanborne.

The family worked hard together, Charles at his job and keep­ing up a garden at home, Eliza washing for the college and for students. She also cooked at the college for special dinners, helped supervise the cooking classes for Mr. DeCoty, and was the first matron at the college. Mother Batt took care of the children so Eliza could work at the college. Harry, Charles's lame brother who had been a cripple from childhood, had a job herding buffalo on an island in Salt Lake.

While Charles and Eliza were living in the adobe house, five more child­ren were born to them—Pearl, born July 24, 1891; Ruby, born Novem­ber 17, 1892; Myrtle, born August 15, 1894; Charles Gladstone, born August 16, 1896; and Morley Brazier, born Sep­tember 2, 1899. The house had been added on to with this many child­ren. Two bedrooms, a large kitchen, and a room for Mother Batt and Harry had been added to the original house.

The family moved to a nice home on College Hill, and it was here that their last child was born. Melvin Alford was born on January 17, 1902, making a total of nine children for this won­der­ful couple.

Farming was tried once again. The Batt family moved to Idaho for about a year but dis­covered that farming really wasn’t for them. They moved back to Logan and back into the Fifth Ward, where they had lived for so long.

The Neilson family and the Batt family always re­mained good friends and neigh­bors. Eliza Neilson did sewing for all the babies in the Batt family. She also made their Sunday-best clothes for years.

Charles was at the Agricultural College [now Utah State Uni­ver­sity] for 54 years. He was always faithful and did his work well, making and retaining many fine friends through the years.

An ardent Church member, Charles held many Church posi­tions in the Logan Fifth Ward and in the Cache Stake, including chorister in 1891, stake choir in 1890, assistant stake Sunday School chorister, president of the Young Men’s Mutual Improve­ment Asso­cia­tion, president of the Sixth Quorum of Elders, second coun­selor to Bishop John Quincy Adams for years, chair­man for the old folks committee for several years, and a faith­ful ward teacher.

The youngest child of Charles and Eliza contracted the influ­enza in January 1919 and died on the eighth. The whole family greatly felt the loss of young Melvin. His parents, being the faithful people they were, were consoled with the thought of being with him again in the next world.

1 Sorrow strikes the Batt family

Charles Batt (1861–1949) married Eliza Brazier in England before they accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. Most of his history details their life after they came to Utah. This is the fourth of six installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 19–20). Charles was the father of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandfather of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

The next problem that faced Charles was moving his family from Lewiston to Logan. He loved his family and didn't want to be away from them. He looked all over Logan for a place to bring his family to, but he couldn't find anything. Finally, he went to Presi­dent Sanborne and told him that he couldn't find a place for his family and he couldn't leave them in Lewiston. They had only sage­brush to burn there and they needed him.

The next day President Sanborne called Charles from his work and told him that he had some land with a one-room adobe house on it. He told Charles he could use the house and the ground for a garden if he would move his family to Logan, be­cause they needed him for the work he was doing at the college. Needless to say, Charles was filled with joy and gratitude. He left at once for his family. It was a happy Batt family that moved to Logan and to the little adobe house. It was on the corner of what is known today as the corner of Sixth East and Sixth North.

Sickness struck shortly after their move to Logan. All three children became des­perately ill. The baby Ernest wasn’t quite 15 months old when he passed away October 21, 1890. Doll and Bill were still very sick child­ren at the time their little brother died. Charles and Eliza were saddened and had a great decision to make. Where were they going to get the money to bury their little son? Charles had not received his first paycheck from the college, and they didn't know anyone who could loan them the money. Charles decided to go see the under­taker and see what could be arranged. Eliza got on her knees and offered a humble prayer that things would work out.

Charles went to the Lindquist Mortuary and told Mr. Lind­quist of his troubles. He said he would sign a bank note or anything Mr. Lind­quist thought best. After hear­ing Charles's story of joining the Church in England and coming to America for the gospel, Mr. Lind­quist told Charles he would not have to sign a note or anything else. He would take Charles at his word and knew he would pay him when he could. Mr. Lind­quist had been a convert himself and had come to America too and knew how Charles felt.

While Charles was in Mr. Lind­quist's office, a Mr. H. G. Hayball came in. Mr. Lindquist introduced them, telling Mr. Hayball that Charles was one of his country­men and also a convert to the Church. Mr. Hayball and his brother owned a grocery store in Logan. Mr. Lindquist told Mr. Hayball that the Batt family needed some food. Mr. Hayball invited Charles to come with him and take home some gro­ce­ries. Charles could pay him anytime.

Charles was so overcome by the kindness of these two men that he couldn't talk. Mr. Hayball asked Charles what part of town he lived in. When he found out, he told Charles to go see Mrs. Ross Neilson and to tell her that H. G. Hayball said to let him have some fresh milk for the sick children and that he'd make it good to her.

Charles took the groceries and went home. He found Doll feel­ing a little better, but Bill was still burning with fever and was a very sick little boy.

Charles took a small bucket and went in search of Mrs. Neilson. He told her who had sent him and why he wanted the milk. After hearing his story, Sister Neilson put a shawl over her, took a larger bucket, and got some milk. She also got some eggs and went home with him. Sister Neilson was not a woman of many words, nor very easy to get acquainted with, but she was a good Latter-day Saint who reached out her help­ing hand. After she talked to Eliza and Mother Batt and gave them some words of faith and comfort, she left. A short while later, she re­turned with her daugh­ter and some material to make the burial clothes for Ernest. She sent George and June Neilson to help Charles dig the grave in the Logan cemetery.

1 Charles Batt's first job at Utah State

Charles Batt (1861–1949) married Eliza Brazier in England before they accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. Most of his history details their life after they came to Utah. This is the third of six installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 18–19). Charles was the father of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandfather of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

Charles decided to try looking for a job to get a few things they needed so badly and to pay the midwife who brought Ernest. He left his wife and children with Sister Kemp's promise to call and help with the family. He went to Logan to find a job. It took his team a long time to get there. The only people he knew in Logan were the John Mortimers, so he went to their home. Sister Mortimer gave him a good hot meal while Brother Mortimer took care of and fed his team. Then they sat down and talked over what kind of jobs to look for. Brother Mortimer wanted Charles to go to the new Agri­cul­tural College that was being built at that time in Logan.

Brother Mortimer hitched up his own horse and buggy and took Charles up to the college. The school buildings were about ready to take their first classes that fall, and someone was needed to plant the trees and the lawn. Charles was very backward and was afraid he didn't know enough about it to ask for the job. For­tu­nately, Brother Mortimer had more confidence in Charles than Charles had in himself, so the two of them went in to see the college president.

President Sanborne met with them and indicated they needed all kinds of workers but could only hire one or two at this time. He wanted to know what Charles could do. Charles answered that he could do many odd jobs but his real work was gardening and land­scaping. President Sanborne wanted to know where Charles had learned that trade. Charles told him that he was an English­man and had not been in America very long and that he had learned it in England. The presi­dent told Charles that he would have to talk to a board member about hiring him but to come back the next day.

The next day found Charles at the college before President San­borne arrived. When the president did arrive, he took Charles into his office and told him it didn't look like anything could be done about land­scaping until the next spring. He did want Charles to walk around the grounds with him though and look them over. As they were going out the door, it fell off its hinges, knocking Presi­dent San­borne down. Charles caught the door before it fell on top of Pre­si­dent Sanborne. Charles examined the door and found all the screws in place, but they had never been tightened. He set the screws as tight as he could with his pocket­knife and told Presi­dent Sanborne to have one of the workmen tighten them with good tools. President Sanborne brushed the dirt from his suit and told Charles to go to work at once. He took Charles into his office and signed him up as a handyman, his first job at the Agricultural College.

1 The longer they farmed the poorer they got

Charles Batt (1861–1949) married Eliza Brazier in England before they accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. Most of his history details their life after they came to Utah. This is the second of six installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 16–18). Charles was the father of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandfather of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

Three days after the Batt family arrived in Utah [in the summer of 1887], Charles went with a group of men to work on the railroad at Ross Fork. The job only lasted a short time and the pay was very low. He also worked for the tele­phone company, help­ing put the line through Wellsville Canyon to Logan. This job also took him away from his family. By the time he had paid for his board and room, he had only five dollars to take home to his family.

Charles met a man from Lewiston by the name of Isaac Blair who had a farm to rent and who offered to rent the farm to the Batt family if they would live in the Blair home and if Eliza would do the house­work, cooking, washing, and ironing. The young couple agreed to accept his offer. Eliza worked hard for their board and room, and Charles worked hard at farming, but the crops were a failure that year. All they got for a full summer’s hard work were a few small potatoes. The potatoes were too small to peel and had to be cooked with the peeling left on. However, they were happy to have at least potatoes to eat.

A son, William, was born at the Blair farm on April 27, 1888. Mrs. Blair decided that with a new baby added to the Batt family, Eliza couldn’t keep up with her share of the work. The baby also meant another mouth to feed. So they were asked to leave.

Charles and Eliza had made some very good friends in Lewis­ton by the name of John and Rachel Kemp. John had a two-room log house and some land near the Bear River that he offered to sell Charles in exchange for plowing 50 acres of land. The young couple were de­lighted for the chance to have something of their own. John helped Charles fix up the house with windows and with other needed repairs. The Kemps let them have some old furniture, and Charles made a table for the family to use. Charles and Eliza were very proud of their new home, their first owned in America. Eliza said, "Never in my life have I ever moved into a home that meant so much to me."

Charles wasn’t a good farmer, and the land was sandy and rough. John Kemp let Charles use his horses until he was able to get a team of his own. Charles and Eliza worked hard, but the crops didn’t do well. Eliza helped pick up potatoes to help Charles. She also did washing for a lady in Lewiston in order to get a tub, a wash­board, and soap so she could do her own wash.

Another baby was on the way. The family were so poor that they finally had to ask for help. Sister Kemp went with Eliza to the president of the Relief Society to ask for clothes for the new baby. At this time Charles’s mother arrived in America and went right to the log cabin to be with Eliza when the baby was born. Ernest was born July 30, 1889, in the little log cabin in Lewiston.

The longer Charles tried to farm the poorer they got. Farming in Utah was so different from the farming in England.

1 Charles Batt's early life in England

Charles Batt (1861–1949) married Eliza Brazier in England before they accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. Most of his history, except for this first installment, details their life after they came to Utah. This is the first of six installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 15–16). Charles was the father of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandfather of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).


Charles Batt was born September 24, 1861, at Houghton, Hamp­shire, Eng­land, the son of George Batt and Hannah Ray. He spent his early child­hood in the Houghton area. At the age of seven, he began work­ing at small jobs to help support himself.

When Charles was 15, his father died, leaving him to sup­port his mother and a crippled brother, Harry, and a younger sister, Emma. He cared for his mother and brother all the rest of their lives.

At the time of his father’s death, Charles felt the heavy respon­sibility that was now his. He didn't know what to do. He took a walk through the small village where the family lived to think things out. He stopped by the banks of a stream that flowed through the village. The stream divided, going in two directions, each leading to a small town. Unable to make up his mind about which way to go to find work, he found a small board and threw it into the stream above the fork and decided to follow the direction the board took. This decision brought him luck. After several small jobs, he found a job in a flourmill, where he worked for two years until the mills closed down.

Charles started another search for work. His former boss gave him a good recom­mendation to a gentleman farmer. Charles was soon hired and worked at this place for several years learn­ing a trade. He enjoyed his work in the hothouses, where he learned to raise plants for gardens and flower beds. He also learned land­scaping. He worked at this trade, except for short inter­vals, for the remainder of his life in England.

While Charles was working hard, his mother heard the gospel. She joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and moved to London to keep a house for the missionaries.

On a trip to visit with his sister, Fanny, who lived in Head­bourne Worthy, near Winchester, Charles met the Brazier family. They were neighbors of Fanny's and had a charming daughter, Eliza, who took the fancy of young Charles. After a proper time of getting to know each other and falling in love, Eliza and Charles were married on June 7, 1884, in Head­bourne Worthy.

Charles took a job as a gardener on the estate of Sir Percy Shelley. Charles and Eliza went to live at a lodge on the Shelley estate. Eliza kept the gate and let the car­riages in and out. The estate was a beau­ti­ful place, a resort town near the ocean. It claimed one of the most beautiful beaches in England.

Great joy came to Charles and Eliza on June 27, 1885, when their first child, a girl, was born at the Shelley estate. They named her Cecily but nicknamed her Doll. It was soon after Cecily's birth that they accepted the gospel. As soon as they were bap­tized, they de­cided to leave England to go to Utah, where the body of the Saints were.

1 A new life in Utah

Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926) wrote her life story sometime in 1917 or 1918 when she was 53 years old. It focuses primarily on her early life in England before she and her husband accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. This is the last of nine installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 13–14). Eliza was the mother of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandmother of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

After eight days and nights we arrived in Logan, Cache County, Utah Territory. The third day after we arrived Charles left me, with our little girl, in Logan and went with some men to Ross Fork to work on the rail­road. The people told me that Charles had gone to work among a lot of Indians and might get killed. I wrote to him, and my letters were returned. Surely I felt a stranger in a strange land—lonesome, homesick, and lonely.

A week after Charles left for Ross Fork, I visited my sister-in-law, Jane Winn, at Smithfield, Cache County.

In the fall of 1887, we moved to Lewiston, where my husband rented a farm belonging to Isaac Blair. Sister Blair, having a large house, let us live with them in ex­change for my doing the house­work, cook­ing, washing, and ironing. The fol­low­ing spring, on 27 April 1888, a baby boy came to cheer us. He was named William.

After trials too many to mention, we moved into a log house having two nice, large rooms, which seemed a mansion. Charles plowed 50 acres of land for the log house. We were proud of our first posses­sion in Zion, it being so nice to be alone with our child­ren.

Another son came to bless us, which we named Ernest. The follow­ing spring we moved to live in the Logan Fifth Ward, Charles having been employed at the Utah Agricultural College, which was then in erection.

Time sped swiftly along, and we were blessed with five sons and four daughters. As the years passed, the children grew. Cecily was married to George Edward Adams, William to Hazel Jane Lee, Glad­stone to Nettine Tennant, Ruby to James Adams, Pearl to William Hulse.

So time passes swiftly by with its pleasures and trials. And as the little English girl—now a sedate woman of 53 years—I look back on all the varying scenes I have passed through since we left the shores of old England, and my heart swells with grati­tude to my Heavenly Father for the many bless­ings bestowed on me.

1 Leaving England for America

Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926) wrote her life story sometime in 1917 or 1918 when she was 53 years old. It focuses primarily on her early life in England before she and her husband accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. This is the eighth of nine installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 11–13). Eliza was the mother of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandmother of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

As soon as we were baptized, the spirit of gathering took pos­ses­sion of us. When I first read and began to see the gospel light, I prayed earnestly that if it were true that, after we were baptized, the way might be opened for us to gather to Zion right away. And sure­ly my prayers were answered, for we were baptized on the 22nd of May and we sailed on the 18th of June [1887]. Many were the long talks and arrangements made for the eventful day.

But there were many trials to be met and trials to be over­come. My neighbor and very dear friend, when I told her I had joined the true church and gave her a tract, looked at me and said, "You, you joined such dis­respectable people as that! I am ashamed of you!" She would scarcely speak and never visited me again until the day we left. Then she came and invited us to dinner, but we felt we would have harder trials to face for the gospel's sake.

Then came the day we left Bos­combe Manor Lodge with its green lawns and beautiful trees. Good-byes were said to friends, one last look at the lodge, and off to catch the train at Pokesdour for Win­chester, my home where brothers, sisters, and friends were gathered to say good-bye. Through my head ran the tune and words of the anthem—

O Zion, lovely Zion, thou city of the faithful,
How often with rapture thy praises we sing.

At times the terrible thought would come, "Suppose you leave mother, brothers and sisters, your native land, then this gospel is not true?" One short prayer to Father to keep us faithful and all was peace again.

My mother felt so terrible. She was really ill to think her young­est girl was going to leave her and go to America. It was really more than she could stand: she could not eat; she cried most of the time, which made it hard to part. My brothers made me promise I would not break down and cry when the time came to part. I promised, but never dreamt what it meant to keep that promise.

At last the dreaded day arrived when good-byes must be said to one and all. The morning was bright and beautiful. No one hardly spoke. Our hearts were sad at the thought of parting. Good-byes were said to brothers and sisters. I never spoke, but picked up my little girl, threw my arm around my mother and kissed her, and walked away and never looked back until I reached the gate, which was quite a distance from the house. Then came a turn in the road; I looked back at Mother waving her hand­ker­chief—one last look at the dear old home and all was lost to view.

And then to Winchester to catch the train for London for a three days' visit with some of the Batt family. Good-byes were once more said, but we expected to see Sister Batt, Charles’s mother, the follow­ing spring.

We left London in the morning on the nine o'clock train going to Liverpool to get our tickets. About ten o'clock on a Saturday morning, we left the pier. There were 150 Mormons on board, and with crew and other passengers about 900 people altogether. As the ship began to sway as she was loosed from her moorings, the pilot came to take us out of the harbor. Brother Rigby, who had charge of the company of Mormons, gathered us all together, and we sang—

O Babylon, O Babylon, we bid thee farewell;
We’re going to the mountains of Ephraim to dwell.

All went well for the first two days when nearly all on board were con­fined to their bunks with seasick­ness.

On our sixth day out, one of the firemen died, which cast a gloom over all on board. We witnessed a funeral at sea. The man was sewed up in a sail, a clergyman read a few prayers, the ship almost stopped, and he was let down over the side of the vessel into the sea. All the passengers went to the side of the ship to see him buried, which seemed almost to tip the vessel on one side.

About the seventh day out, a large vessel going to England passed us. We were so glad to see someone. How we all waved and yelled to them. And they returned the compli­ment.

On the ninth day out, the pilot met us. We were so glad to see him come in his small boat to take us to the harbor. We reached the harbor about nine o'clock in the evening. We all seemed to forget the day and time; everybody got mixed up. After we had landed, we left a few hours later for Norfolk, boarding another ship which was very dif­fe­rent from the Wisconsin.

1 Conversion to Mormonism

Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926) wrote her life story sometime in 1917 or 1918 when she was 53 years old. It focuses primarily on her early life in England before she and her husband accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. This is the seventh of nine installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 9–11). Eliza was the mother of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandmother of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

After being at the lodge two years, I heard the true gospel but was very much opposed to it and said terrible things about it. My mother-in-law was a member of the Mor­mon Church, and we went through many battles and arguments. When the Millennial Star came for my mother-in-law, I would burn them or hide them.

The time came when Sister Hannah Batt was taken very sick and was sent to the hospital; then when alone, I read the Millen­nial Star I had hidden. The more I read, the plainer things became until I just longed for an elder to come and visit us. But there were no mem­bers or elders of the Latter-day Saint Church around there.

Oh, how I watched for the mail to come so I could get the precious little book. Instead of burning it, I read every word. At last the time came when I watched and prayed that I might understand the fulness of the gospel, so we wrote a letter to Brother Teasdale, president of the British mission in London, and asked that an elder be sent. A few days later a card came by mail—just a few words but how precious: "An elder will be with you in a few days. God bless you."

The next afternoon the captain, with quite a few Salvation Army sol­diers, visited me. Everybody was hav­ing such a good time (I rather en­joyed the lively singing) when I glanced out of the window and saw a tall man coming to the door with a satchel in his hand. I knew it was the elder, but hardly knew what to do with my Salva­tion friends. I was afraid he would say he was a Mormon, it being looked upon as a dis­grace to have anything to do with such terrible people.

Hark! a knock at the door and a tall man is saying, "I am an elder of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Brother George Phillips of Salt Lake." After intro­ducing him to the Salvationists, we had a very pleasant afternoon.

Brother Phillips stayed with us a week and we en­joyed his visit very much and began to understand things pertaining to the gospel. Brother Phillips would sit and ex­plain things to us by the hour. These were very happy days!

Two months later Brother Phillips visited us again and gave us the Book of Mormon and Voice of Warning. We read; he explained to us; and with the light of the gospel came a beautiful influence in our little home. Everything seemed so different. Charles and I would talk of the happy time when we would be able to gather to Zion. Then came a letter from Brother Phillips telling us he would soon be with us and to prepare for baptism. With thankful hearts we pre­pared the little room and looked and watched for the elder. Oh, how glad we were to see him.

It was a beautiful evening on the 22nd of May [1887], the moon being full. A walk through the lovely woods brought us to the grand old cliff with the sea dashing below. A walk down across the cliffs and onto the beach brought us to where the tide was coming in. About nine o'clock we were bap­tized in the sea and became mem­bers of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Then a walk home in the beautiful moonlight. Oh, the joy I cannot describe. When we got home, Elder Phillips confirmed us and blessed Cecily.

1 Bournemouth by the sea

Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926) wrote her life story sometime in 1917 or 1918 when she was 53 years old. It focuses primarily on her early life in England before she and her husband accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. This is the sixth of nine installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 8–9). Eliza was the mother of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandmother of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

Bournemouth was a beautiful and fashionable place with its long beach and pleasure gardens and the sea. We lived when first married in the Palmesston Road, Boscombe, about two miles from Bourne­mouth. Not having a home of our own, Charles rented two very nice rooms, where I first started house­keeping. We were very happy.

After being married a month, we went to live with a man by the name of Mockridge, whose wife had died and who did not want to break up his home. So we lived there, and I worked as a house­keeper and was very glad to do something to help Charles, as it saved our paying rent. It was a very comfortable little home.

After staying eight months at the Mockridge home, we moved into the lodge at Boscombe Manor to live. Charles was second gar­dener to Sir Percy Basset Shelley, the son of the poet Shelley. Bos­combe Manor Bourne­mouth was one of the most beautiful estates in England. There were two lodges, one east a mile from the manor and one west a mile from the manor. It was a very beautiful and pleasant place to live. I had to let all the carriages through the gate (no tradesmen were allowed through, since there was another en­trance called the trades­men’s entrance). So again I was able to help Charles in a small way by saving the rent.

Sir Percy and Lady Shelley kept a large establish­ment of ser­vants: 14 in the house, five gardeners, a dairy­man, a state car­penter, a state painter, a coach­man and two grooms, a butler, two footmen, and a yacht with eight sailors.

After being married a year, a sweet little daughter came to bless our home, for which I nearly gave my life. Mr. Slessor, my old mas­ter, wanted her named Cecily or Susan, so we chose Cecily. She was born at Bascombe Manor Lodge on 27 June 1885. When the baby was two months old, I took her to Head­bourne Worthy rectory and had her christened at St. Swithun’s church, the same church where we were married. Mr. Arthur Slessor was the godfather. Miss Alethea Slessor and Caroline Drewe were the god­mothers. It was quite a fashionable chris­tening. After the services we all went to the rectory to tea.

1 Wedding day

Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926) wrote her life story sometime in 1917 or 1918 when she was 53 years old. It focuses primarily on her early life in England before she and her husband accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. This is the fifth of nine installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 7–8). Eliza was the mother of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandmother of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

I stayed about six months with the Streatfield family until my mistress Mrs. Slessor died. I lost a faithful friend in her death. The family begged me to return to the Head­bourne Worthy rectory to take her place as cook. I did and remained 18 months and then married.

Great preparations were made for my wedding day. The banns of marriage were published three successive Sundays, it being a rule of the church. The banns read as follows: "I publish the banns of marriage between Eliza Brazier of this parish and Charles Batt of the parish of Houghton. If any of you have just cause or impedi­ment why these two should not be joined together in holy matri­mony, you are now to declare it or forever hold your peace." After the banns were published three Sundays, then the couple were free to marry if no im­pediments were raised.

The seventh day of June [1884] was decided on as the wedding day. After much preparation in sewing and cooking, the eventful day arrived. The wedding was set for eleven o'clock. The morning was sunshine and showers, but at ten o'clock the weather cleared for good, and the sun shone out making every­­thing bright and beau­ti­ful. The hedge­rows were white with haw­thorn and wild lilies. I was dressed in a pale grey dress with a long white veil. The two brides­maids were dressed in pale pink dress­es, white hats trim­­med with white tulle and pink flowers, and carried bouquets of white carna­tions and maidenhair ferns.

On arriving at St. Swithun's church, we found Charles and his cousin Harry Alford, the best man, wait­ing at the altar steps. A voluntary was being played by one of the Miss Slessors. The choir which I had been a member of since early child­hood sang, "The Voice That Breathed o'er Eden That Earliest Wedding Morn." And Eliza Brazier and Charles Batt were made man and wife.

After we signed registers in the vestry, old and young were waiting with flowers, rice, and old shoes (the cab being white with rice), all wishing us godspeed on our journey of life. As we left the church, the bells struck up a merry chime, my brother and one of my fellow ser­vants with two other friends being the bell ringers. After leaving the church, we all returned to the rectory to a wed­ding breakfast given by my master. We received many beautiful and useful presents. After the wedding breakfast was over, the guests were invited by the Misses Slessors to the draw­ing room where they gave some very beautiful music. Miss Alethea played the harp, Miss Margaret the piano, Miss Agnes the violin, Miss Dorothy the base violin, and Miss Rough the English concertina. Every­body enjoyed it immensely. At five o'clock the tables were again spread with all kinds of cakes and salads and tea.

Then came good-byes to mother, father, brothers and sisters, and fellow servants. I said good-bye to the dear old rectory where so many happy days were spent. I had lived at the rectory seven years and was made to promise before leaving that I would not forget to come and stay at any time. There would always be a wel­come. My hus­band and I and my fellow servants (it being a holiday for the maids) walked to the depot about two and a half miles away. We left for Boscombe Bournemouth on the seven o'clock train.

1 Once upon a midsummer's night

Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926) wrote her life story sometime in 1917 or 1918 when she was 53 years old. It focuses primarily on her early life in England before she and her husband accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. This is the fourth of nine installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 5–6). Eliza was the mother of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandmother of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

After staying in London three months, I left and re­turned home to engage as cook in the family of William Chanpron Streatfield, an independent gentleman having eight sons and two daughters. The sons were in college at Cambridge. When vacation day arrived, it seemed as if a cyclone had struck the house—all was bustle and ex­citement. The mistress, giving orders here and there, almost danced for joy because her boys were coming home.

The pranks that were played on the maids by these young gentlemen were not few. I well remember an argument I had had with Masters Claud and Harry, who both con­tended that no one could go down the stairs without their hearing him. The next morn­ing when I got up and started to go down the stairs, some­thing went bang! bang! bang! and nearly sent me head first down the rest of the stairs. The young gentlemen had strung paper caps on each step, which of course awoke them.

Mrs. Streatfield always rang the bell for the servants to come to the drawing room for prayers before they retired for the night. The ser­vants’ apartments were a long way from the drawing room, two long corridors away. As soon as we left the hall, the lights were sure to go out. One or the other of these young gentle­men would turn them out, which meant lots of fun and frolic as we felt our way along in the dark. I rather en­joyed the fun. Being young, I did not sense the seriousness of being called to prayer.

One night, after lots of fun, I will never forget: the custom of the house was for the parlor maid to go first and place the Bible and prayer book on a small table for the master to read a chapter. She caught her foot in a rug and fell, the Bible landing at the feet of a very dis­tinguished visitor. I was in perfect purgatory because I wanted to laugh, which would have been severely cen­sured by the master. Not one word did we hear, but I wondered if it were only a mockery to be called to prayers, since some­thing always happened at that time.

After retiring, we were all supposed to be in bed with lights out in an hour, but we were young and full of fun, and many were the pranks we planned and carried out. I remem­ber well one Mid­summer's night, which night was always look for­ward to with much merriment because each one thought she could find out who she would marry. On this Midsummer's night the back door was left open instead of being locked, and because the house was very large and dark, this made a lonesome and weird feeling. Each girl placed on a table a basin of water and beside the basin a bunch of hyssop, then hung on a line a garment that she had worn many times. As the clock struck twelve, her future husband was supposed to come and sprinkle the garment with the hyssop.

So that night when the clock struck eleven, we were all sitting in a row. Not one word could be spoken or the spell would be broken. Tick, tick, tick—oh! how long an hour seemed! What if the house­keeper should find the door open, especial­ly the street door? But, nothing ven­tured nothing to have gained, was our motto. Tick, tick, tick—we never knew an hour could be so long! Five minutes to twelve. Hark! What was that? Creak, creak, nearer it came, a loose board in the corridor; creak, creak, closer and closer it seemed to come, but not a word must pass our lips. Creak, creak, creak. Sitting nearest the open door, I could take it no longer and jumped and ran and broke the spell.

The next morning I was sleeping long after I ought to have been up doing my duty, sweetly dreaming of the only man in the world for me, when suddenly came a sound so terrible that I fell from my bed to the floor. It was one long terrible blast from a cornet. The master raised his window and wanted to know if the house were on fire, but being told it was only the morning call for the maids, he returned to bed and dreamt of Gabriel's trum­pet sounding at the last day.

1 Days never to be forgotten

Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926) wrote her life story sometime in 1917 or 1918 when she was 53 years old. It focuses primarily on her early life in England before she and her husband accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. This is the third of nine installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 3–5). Eliza was the mother of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandmother of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982).

When 14, I was prepared for con­firmation, one of the most seri­ous things of my young life. Twice a week found me and 15 others in a class at the rectory, each one of us having to learn and recite the Apostolic Creed, the catechism, and the St. Athanasian Creed, and having to know so much about the Bible. At last the day arrived when I was to be con­firmed. I walked to the village church with my mistress. Not a word was spoken, this experi­ence being looked up­on as the most sacred thing in my young life. Clothed in a light dress and cap and veil, the gift of my mistress, I arrived at the church. The Bishop of Winchester officiated. Each of us took her place without a word as the organ pealed forth, "Onward, Christian Soldiers, Marching as to War." At the altar rail sat the bishop with his long white gown and large white sleeves. With a feel­ing of awe, I arose in my turn as we walked quietly two by two and knelt down in front of the bishop. How my heart rejoiced! I offered up a prayer that I might always be good. The choir sang—

Soldiers of Christ, arise and put your armor on
Strong in the strength which God sup­plies through his eternal Son.

Never will that day be forgotten. I was not allowed to work on that day. One of my schoolmates, a boy I had known all my life, brought me a lovely bunch of violets, which were taken away for fear my thoughts would be taken away from the serious­ness of my confirmation.

When 17, I left the rectory and went to London to be a kitchen maid in Sir Thomas Waller's family, where 14 servants were kept. My work was in the kit­chen under a French cook. Everything being strange, it took me some time to get used to the ways of the people. The house was a beauti­ful mansion in Eaton Square. My mistress Slessor and the Lady Waller had been girls in the same school and were very great friends—a word of recom­mendation gave me the situation.

Leaving the little country village, never having been in a large city before, I felt almost lost as I arrived at Vauxhall station. There was such a tremendous amount of traffic that my heart almost failed me. I had been told what to do before leaving home (my mother, having a perfect horror of my going to London but not wanting to hinder me from such a good situa­tion, parted from me with oft-repeated entreaties not to speak to strangers). After I ar­rived at Vaux­hall station, you can imagine how very shy and timid I was when up came a stately gentle­man inquiring if I were going to Sir Thomas Waller’s Eaton Square. A fine carriage was waiting; Lady Waller had sent the butler to meet me. He was very kind, point­ing out the places of interest as we drove along. At Eaton Square the carriage stopped at a stately man­sion and a livered servant came out and took my trunk. There among 13 other servants, the little country girl be­came a favorite.

1 Childhood in England

Eliza Brazier Batt (1864–1926) wrote her life story sometime in 1917 or 1918 when she was 53 years old. It focuses primarily on her early life in England before she and her husband accepted the restored gospel, joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and immigrated to America. This is the second of nine installments (see Batt & Lee Ancestors, 2–3). Eliza was the mother of William B Batt (1888–1959) and the grandmother of Dorothy Batt Cleverly (1915–1982). The photograph of the old church was taken in 1912.

Six years quickly passed away, and I was sent to the village school with my sister Jane. Frightened at the other children, I clung to Jane and begged to be allowed to sit with her, but the teacher said no and got angry and whipped me with a cane, which nearly broke my heart. My brothers never ceased to tease me about being whip­ped the first day I went to school.

By the time I was eight years old, I was able to read fairly well. It was the custom in the school that every child who could read a chapter from the Bible without a mis­take was pre­sented a nice new Bible at Christmastime from a lady by the name of Courtray. I re­ceived my Bible and was very proud of it. At eight I also joined the child­ren’s choir at St. Swithun's church. Every Sunday found me in my place in the choir, unless sickness prevented. The choir child­ren were always very neat in appear­ance with brown linsey dresses, black hats trimmed with blue rib­bon, and cloaks of grey.

Time passed so swiftly away. When I was ten years old, I was taken into the par­sonage to learn to work. I was trained to do house­work and cooking at the home of the Reverend J. H. Slessor, rector of St. Swithun's. At the rectory were ten in the family, and five servants were kept. My training began by learn­ing to help wait at table, of which I had such a dread be­cause of my many mis­takes. One circumstance I will never for­get: a dinner party was given in honor of Lady Lucy Wood­house, who having recently returned from South Africa was visiting at the rectory. The dishes were very hot and full, and I accidentally spilled gravy on Lady Lucy's dinner dress. I felt so bad, but Lady Lucy looked at me so kindly and said, "Never mind, Eliza." It was said so quietly and kindly that no one noticed the acci­dent. I always loved Lady Lucy for her kind­ness to me.

After two years' training as a housemaid, I was taken to the kit­chen to learn to cook and where I loved to be. Mrs. Slessor, the mis­tress, took a great interest in me and did every­thing to encourage me. Be­cause Mrs. Slessor was such a good lady, I was brought up almost as one of the family. Every night she saw that I was in bed by half past nine and never allowed me out after dark. Every Sunday morning I attended the Bible class she held for her own children and at eleven o'clock marched with all the other school children two by two to church—no talking allowed.