--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Goodwin, Betsey Smith collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 22 number: 9 published: 1919-07 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Goodwin, Betsey Smith, "The Tired Mother: Pioneer Recollections," *Improvement Era* 22, no. 9 (July 1919): 774–780.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2209unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2209unse start_page: 774 end_page: 780 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1919-07) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2209unse publication_year: 1919 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1919, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Tired Mother: Pioneer Recollections c I © i J v: THE TIRED MOTHER 777 who sang the old songs and hymns that warmed our hearts. While fair weather and full rations lasted, we were all right. We traveled five weeks, never stopping for a Sunday. Then we were in the buffalo country. Our cattle, that had hauled the provision wagons, and some cows were then stampeded by the Indians, it was supposed. At the stampeding place we camped five days; the men went in all directions seeking for the lost cattle. Only a few were found. Our captain then thought we A Burial on the Plains had done wrong in not stopping to worship on the Sabbath day, for we had lost more than we had gained. Following this experience, we kept sacred the Sabbath day for worship and rest, and felt better for it. Owing to the loss of the cattle, there was added to the load of each cart one hundred pounds of flour. September came, and we were on half rations and had cold weather, but we never forgot to pray, and we sang, "Come, 778 IMPROVEMENT ERA Come, Yc Saints." with great zeal and fervor. We realized that we needed the help of God to see us through. Many were dying from the hardships of the journey* Let me add that T stood by a grave where sixteen people were buried at onee; they were sewed up in sheets and covered with brush, then with earth and ashes. This happened during a very cold spell, and I think it was while we were coming through the Black Hills. I froze my fingers, but they were saved by good attention when we got to Lehi. At the same time, my mother traveled fifteen miles with little Alex on her back, as he couldn't walk in the snow. I will not dwell upon the hardships we endured, nor the hunger and cold, but I like to tell of the goodness of God unto us. One day, especially, stands out from among the remainder. The wind blew fresh, as if its breezes came from the sea. It kept blowing harder until it became fierce. Clouds arose, the thunder and lightning were appalling. Even the ox teams ahead refused to face the storm. Our captain, who always rode a mule, dismounted and stepped into the middle of the road, bared his head to the storm, and every man, as he came up, stood by him — with bared head one hundred carts, their pullers and pushers, looking to their captain for counsel. The captain said, "Let us pray." And there was offered such a prayer! He told the Lord our circumstances, he talked to God, as one man talks to another, and as if the Lord was very near. I felt that he was; and many others felt the same. Then the storm parted to the right and to the left! We hurried on to camp, got our tents pitched, and some fires built, when the storm burst in all its fury !We had camped on a side-hill, and the water ran through the tents in little creeks. Another circumstance I remember clearly. My mother was taken very sick with cramp and cholera. A very fatal trouble in our weakened condition. We all felt bad about mother. I remember thinking, "Many are dying; mother may die, and what a dark world it would be without our dear mother!" As I gathered the sage to burn on our camp-fire, I couldn't keep from crying. When I met mother, she asked me what was the matter. I told her how badly I felt. She said, "Do not feel like that; pray for me. I have been out yonder in the snow praying to the Lord to spare our lives, that we might get through to the Valley. I will never murmur nor complain, whatever we pass through, when we get there." "God heard our prayers, and she kept her word. Even when, in years following, she went blind with age, she never murmured. One more incident I will relate. One evening we camped THE TIRED MOTHER 779 near a marshy meadow spring. Poison parsnips grew there in plenty. Everybody was elated. We had found something to cook and to eat! By this time, our ration was four ounces of flour a day, and neither salt nor soda. Alexander Burt brought some parsnips to our camp fire. Mother said, "What have you there, Brother Burt?" He answered, "They are parsnips, Sister Smith, a sort of white carrot put on the pot and let us have a mess." ; "I will do that," said mother, and we cooked and ate our fill of poison parsnips. I confess we felt like we had been eating rocks, so heavy they lay upon our stomachs. The whole camp ate of them. Our captain arrived late at the camp that night, and when he found what we had been eating, he groaned aloud, and cried, "Put them down; every one contains enough poison to kill an ox." He said, furthermore, that it would be one of the providences of the Almighty if we were not all dead by morning. However, many were glad that they had eaten of them before they knew. We did not realize the truth of his words until the next morning — when one brother died a Scandinavian. We supposed that he had eaten them after he knew they were poison. It was October now. The flour was gone, and we had enough crackers for only a two-days' ration. We rolled into camp. "Come, Bessie," said Janet, "let us gather fuel for our fire." We went over a little hill toward the west. "Look, Jennie; there is a team of horses and two men! See, they are stopping to speak!" ' Now, Jennie was eighteen and bashful, and whispered, "you answer," as we went towards them. It was Joseph A. Young and Cyrus H. Wheelock. I learned this afterwards. Brother Young said: "Sister, where is your camp?" "Just over the hill yonder." "Is there any sickness in the camp?" "No," was the answer; "just one woman died today while eating a cracker. "Have you any provisions?" "All gone but some crackers." "Well, cheer up," he said, "help is coining!" I turned to sister and said, "What ailed that man? I saw him wiping his eyes." "It may be that he is sorry for us. Let us hurry to camp and hear him speak." Wedid so, and he told us there were many wagons with provisions coming soon; and there were. The relief was followed by great rejoicing, and we thanked the Lord in prayer. 780 IMPROVEMENT ERA Brothers Young and Wheelock went on next morning to carry the news to Martin and Tyler's company; two weeks behind us on the road. The boys from Utah came the next day. How glad we were and how good they were! They gathered the wood, and made the fires, and let the weary ride in the wagons. On the side, I might state, also, that many lasting friendships were made between the boys and the young women. It looked that way to me About three miles on this side of Green River, as I was walking ahead of the train, leading my little brother of six, and encourging him along by telling him stories of what he would get when we arrived at the Valley, he said: "When we get to that creek, I wish we could see our brother Rob." I said, "Come along, maybe we will, when we get to the top of the bank." When we arrived at the top of the bank and looked down we saw a wagon with just one yoke of oxen on. We had never seen the like before, so we waited on the summit until they should pass. The man stared at us, and as his team came beside us, he yelled, whoa, to the oxen. It was then we knew him. He jumped off the wagon and caught his sisters in his arms as they came up with the cart. How we all wept with joy! The cart was then tied behind the wagon. Little Alex climbed into the wagon as happy as a prince, instead of a poor, tired child. The next question from Rob was, "Where is mother and Sister Mary?" "They are behind somewhere, Robby. You will find them by the road." Mother was still sick, and when she stopped to rest she had to lie down; she could not sit up. Some had died that way; they would go to sleep and never awaken. Mary was afraid that mother would do likewise, and tried to arouse her by telling her about a team coming with only one yoke of cattle on. Mother replied, "Well, never mind, Mary; don't bother me; I am so tired." "Well, mother, the man is running this way. It surely is Robert." "O, no, Mary; that would be too good to be true!" Well, she was soon convinced, as Robert took her in his arms and helped her into the wagon. As he did so, mother exclaimed, "I couldn't be more thankful to get into the kingdom of heaven than I am to see you, and lie here and rest." Explanations followed. Robert stated that he had suffered from a mountain fever, and was just recovering when he received a letter that we were coming. He then borrowed and hired an outfit to come and meet us. None too soon! THE TIRED MOTHER 781 We arrived at Lehi in due time, and Bishop Evans welcomed us to his ward. My sister Jane married his step-son, George Coleman, that winter; my sister Mary married Andrew A. Anderson; and Sister May married John R. Murdock; an adopted daughter, Euphania Mitchell, married Brother Robert. I married Isaac H. Goodwin, on December 1, 1859. My little brother Alex lived to be twenty-four, and died unmarried. All have gone beyond the veil except Robert's wife, who is eightytwo, and Sister Jane, an ordinance worker in the Manti temple, and myself. I am almost seventy -three. Brother Editor of the Era, you said you would like my story. I have therefore written these few recollections. For the benefit of the youth of Zion who may read this, I bear testimony that I know God hears and answers prayers, and the Lord will help those who help themselves. Beaver, Utah They're Coming Home They hurried on from Portland, Maine, And Portland, Oregon, From lake and gulf and hill and plain, The blue and drab to don. They left the office and the mill, The shop, the school, the bank; Each with a single heart and will, Each one a fighting Yank. Onward! Their only battle cry; Forward! To win or die; And victory has gone their way In every chapter of the fray, Till love and longing now can say, "The Yanks are coming home." From flame and gas and bitter days And nights of shock and shell, They're coming home in peaceful ways, Once more with us to dwell. And hats are in the air, And drums roll out and trumpets blare, Their work well done, in triumph come Our boys from "over there." Hark! As the chorus swells the cry Triumphant from on high, The heavens sing for you and me, The ocean's safe, the land is free, The world throughout knows liberty! "The Yanks are coming home." — Hon. Addison T. Smith, of Idaho, read this poem in his remarks on the joint resolution tendering the thanks of Congress to those who served or gave others to the service of our country in the Great War. How Private Neibaur Won the Congres- sional Medal of Honor A Thrilling and Wonderful War Story, Told in his Own Words * Introduction by Charles W Nibley, Presiding Bishop of the Church . A word of introduction is due the wonderful story told in his own way by Private Thomas Croft Neibaur, for the Improvement Era. His great-grandfather, Alexander Neibaur, with his wife, received the gospel in Preston, England, in 1837. In 1841, the Neibaur family emigrated to Nauvoo, spending some six weeks on a sailing vessel, on the ocean from England to New Orleans, thence up the Mississippi river by boat to Nauvoo. Private Thomas Croft Neibaur is the fourth generation of "Mormon" stock. His mother's name is Elizabeth Croft. Her family came from England, in 1869, and settled in Tooele. Elizabeth Croft married James Neibaur, and their second son was Private Thomas Croft Neibaur. President Edward W. Croft, of the Big Horn stake, is a brother of Mrs. Neibaur. The Crofts are a thoroughly musical family and are of the best English-American stock. From boyhood, Thomas, who was born in Sharon, Bear Lake county, Idaho, May 17, 1898, grew up at Sugar City, Idaho, where his family now reside. He was a studious boy, rather given to books and music than to play, and never given to rowdyism, rather subdued, with a liking for culture, such as may be had in our communities. He was a quiet boy, always desiring to avoid rather than to make trouble. It was a splendid sight to see this young man who volunteered and enlisted in the National Guard, even before the United States had declared war with Germany, returning to his home, on May 27, last. Practically all of official Idaho and ten *In McClure's for May, 1919, Cleveland Moffett tells "Why Germany Quit," and among other instances of American courage refers to this one in these words: "What did they [the Germans] think of Private Thomas C. Neibaur, Company M. 167th Infantry, who, at the Coie de Chatillon, on October 16, 1918, when the rest of his detatchment was wiped out, — single-handed, with bullets in both legs, accounted for fifteen Germans, killing four and taking eleven prisoners!" Editors.