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Mary Smith Anderson is my Great great grandmother
on my fathers side. |
Mary Smith Anderson
born - 23 February 1841
died - 8 May 1900
- born in Dundee, Scotland
- came to America in 1856 at the age of 15
- was a part of the Willie Handcart Company
- helped settle Rexburg in 1884
- served as the 2nd counselor in the Fremont Stake Relief Socity presidency for 10 years
There are three different stories listed in this post, the first was given to me by my uncle, the second and third were written by her sister Betsy. There are also two other great sources the first is a book entitled "The Price We Paid" by Andrew Olsen, page 42 lists Mary and her family specifically. The other book is "Tell My Story, Too" by Jolene S. Allphin. Betsy once again is the family member listed but gives us great insight to Mary's experience on the trail.
Mary Smith Anderson
Mary Smith Anderson was born February 23, 1841, in the
beautiful city of Dundee, Scotland. Her father was a well to do merchant. He owned large machinery and did not spare anything
in giving his children a good education which was one of his strong characteristics.
The Mormon elders came to their city, so she in company with
her mother and sisters went to their meeting to hear what they had to say. They all felt it was the truth; they were
converted and baptized into the Mormon Church.
Their father did not hinder them from attending their meetings, but he
would not join as he was proud and could not stand the jeers of his
associates. He was a good man, loyal and
true to his convictions. He came down
with typhoid fever and just at the turn of his fever, his counting house burned
down with all his books. This shock
caused his death. His family was cheated
out of all the property, but a small store which they sold. So Mary and her sisters went to work in a
mill or factory to finish raising enough money to come to Utah.
They worked in the mill by day and did fancy work in the evening. They soon earned enough money to come to Utah.
She left her beloved home in company with her mother, May
McEwen Smith, Sisters, May, Jane, Betsy, and a brother Alexander who was just
six years old.
On April 30, 1856 they sailed from Liverpool on the ship, Thornton, May 4th; arrived at New York June 14th. They continued their journey by railroad and
steamboat; arriving at Iowa City
June 26th. They had to remain
there until the handcarts were ready.
They had to remain there until July 15th when they started
across the plains in Captain J. G. Willie’s company. Millen Atwood was the captain of the hundred
in which they traveled.
They had a very hard and tedious trip across the
plains. They would travel about
twenty-four miles a day, pulling the handcarts with their provisions and
clothes. They had traveled everyday for
five weeks, Sundays included. When they
were in the buffalo country a lot of their oxen and cows stampeded so they had
to lay over five days while the men hunted for the animals. They found only part of them however, so one
hundred pounds had to be added to each handcart. Then the Captain said, “Fromm now on we will
observe the Sabbath day.”
They were put on half rations and later were allowed only
two ounces of flour. Many died along the
way. While on their journey they cam to
a patch of parsnips. They gathered them
and cooked them and ate their fill. Then
the Captain became all excited and told then not to eat another one. He said there was enough poison in one to
kill an ox. Some of the women exclaimed,
“Thank the Lord my stomach’s full” None
felt any bad results except one of the men who had eaten them after he was
commanded no to do so; he died the next morning.
They and the last company that was two weeks later would
have all perished if President Brigham Young had not sent help and
provisions. When they reached Utah they found many
kind friends and were happy with their religion for which hey had sacrificed so
much. They arrived in Utah November 9, 1856.
Mary Smith was married to Andrew A. Anderson on July 27,
1857. They made their home at Lehi, Utah until 1860;
then they with their son moved to Cache
Valley, and located at Smith field, Utah. Here they lived until 1884. Their children were: Andrew Smith, Sarah Ann,
Mae, Joseph, Jane, Mary Alice, John Amos, Robert William, George Warren, Solva,
and Zina.
She was a worker in the Relief Society and a teacher for
many years in Sunday School. She in
company with her husband and children moved to Rexburg, Idaho
in 1884. This being a new country and
not many doctors available, Sister Mary Smith Anderson who was a good nurse,
was called out a great deal to wait on the sick.
She was sustained as First Counselor to the Stake President
of the Relief Society of the Fremont Stake of Zion in 1890, which she held
until the time of her death which occurred May 8, 1900.
She traveled around the Stake many times giving the sisters counsel
to elevate them to a high standard of love and good works, and many sought her
counsel as she made the weary take up their burdens and praise God for his
wonderful love and care of his children.
It was said at her funeral that she was not only a mother to
her own family, but to the city and Stake, and that no other women in the Stake
would be missed more.
Sister Mary Smith Anderson did a lot of work for her dead
relatives in the Logan
Temple.
In all the trials she was called to pass through, she was
never heard to murmur or complain, but always had a word to strengthen others
in their faith and encouraged them to press onward and upward.
Resolutions of respect formed by the Stake Relief Society
officers;
“Whereas in the dispensation of providence, God had seen fit
to call home one of his daughters who labored long and well as First Counselor
to the Stake President of the Relief Society of the Fremont Stake of Zion, and
who also traveled many hundreds of miles visiting the different branches of the
Relief Societies, in sunshine and showers.
And whereas she has proved herself an efficient worker in
all her carious duties and was one whose kindness and generosity of spirit
brought sunshine to all hearts, Visiting the sick and afflicted and helping the
needy in time of want. We can truly say
that she was a peace maker and an administering angel. Her memory will ever live with her many
friends, and her bright gems of thought have been scattered broadcast to live
in the hearts of men.
Resolved that we her sisters, united with her in the Stake
Presidency with her earnest efforts and wise counsel. To know her was to love her as we know she
was one of God’s choicest Spirits.
Nevertheless less in this our loss, we feel to bow to the mandates of
our Creator, who doeth all things well.
Resolved that a copy of these resolutions be sent to her
family, a copy be placed on the Stake Record, and also a copy to be sent to the
Woman’s Exponent for publication."
Temperence
Hinckley, Stake Pres and her Associates.
this history was given to me by my Uncle, Nylin Nelson
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Family photo, from left to right: Andrew Smith, Andrew Alexander,
Joseph (sitting on lap) Sarah Ann, Mary, Almira Mae, standing holding
the hat, she is my great grandmother.
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Mary's family, Robert was a part of the rescue company that helped bring in the
members of the Willie Handcart Company.
 Source: Goodwin, Betsy
Smith, "Handcart Speech," Woman's
Exponent, 1 Sept. 1888, 51.
Read Trail Excerpt:.
. . we camped six
weeks, waiting for the hand carts to be completed, and it was the first week in
August ere we rolled out of Iowa to cross the
dreary plains for our home with the Saints in Utah. My little brother [Alexander Joseph
Smith] used to travel twenty and twenty-four miles in a day. We soon got used
to travel, and while fair weather and full rations lasted we were all right. We
traveled five weeks, never stopping for Sunday; then we were in the buffalo
country; our cattle that hauled the provision wagons, and the cows were
stampeded, and we camped there five days trying to find the cattle; most of
them were never found; our captain then thought we had done wrong in not
stopping to worship on Sunday. After that we kept the Sabbath day of rest for
all.
Each cart had to its load of luggage one hundred pounds of flour, on account
of our loss of cattle, now we were, in September, on half rations and cold
weather. But we never forgot to sing, "Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor
labor fear." With great zeal and fervor, many fell by the way, hoping to
rise in the First Resurrection of the Just. God grant it! I will not dwell on
the hardships we endured with hunger and cold, but I like to tell how many a
storm raged to the right and to the left of us, and did not molest us. One
circumstance I remember very clearly; my mother [Margery McEwan Smith] was
taken very sick with cramp cholera, a very fatal trouble then; we all felt bad
about mother. I remember thinking, "Others are dying, and mother may die,
and what a dark world it will be without mother," and as I gathered the
dry sage to make a fire, I was crying. Mother met me and asked, "What is
the matter?" I told her how bad I felt. She said: "Do not feel like
that, but pray for me; you and all the rest, and we will get through. I have
just been asking God to spare our lives, so none of us will be left on the way;
and no matter what trials we have when we get to the valley, I shall never murmur
or complain." God heard us, and I can say she kept her word. We lived, and
are living yet.
One more incident I will relate: One evening we camped near a marshy meadow,
which abounded in springs and poison parsnips; every one was elated; we had
something good to eat. Alexander Burt was among the first to find them; he came
to our camp fire and commenced to unload. Mother said: "Brother Burt, what
have you got?" They are parsnips, Sister Smith, a sort of white carrot;
put on the pot and let us have a good mess." "I will do that,"
said mother, and we cooked and ate our fill of poison parsnips. I confess we
felt like we had eaten rocks, so heavy they were, and not only us, but the
whole camp ate of them. Our captain arrived late at camp that night, and when he
found out what we had been eating, he groaned aloud, and cried, "Put them
down, each one contains enough poison to kill an ox." We were glad we had
eaten ours, for we would not have dared to eat any after that; he said it would
be one of the providences of the Almighty if we were not all dead by morning.
We did not realize the truth of his words until next morning one brother died;
we supposed he had eaten of them after he knew better. Now we had one quarter
of a pound of flour a day, with neither salt or soda; some could hardly wait to
cook it. It was October, stormy and cold. Soon the flour was all gone. Then
there were crackers for two days; then the blessed boys of Utah met us with provisions. They gathered
our wood and made our camp fires, and let us ride in their wagons; they found
time to do a little sparking, also, and many a noble son and daughter can say,
"My mother was a hand-cart girl."
Three miles this side of Green River, as I was walking ahead of the the
carts, leading my little brother, encouraging him along with a story of what we
would get when we came to the valley; he said: "Oh, Betsy, I wish when we
get to that creek we would meet Bob." "Well, come along, may be we
will;" and when we got to the top of the bank, we looked down and saw a team
with only one yoke of cattle on; we had never seen the like before, so we
waited on the top until they would pass; and it was our brother; he stared at
us, and when he halloed we knew his voice. He jumped off and brought Mary Jane
and Euphemia in his arms; they had come up with the cart while little Alex and
I waited on the bank. How we wept for joy. The cart was tied behind the wagon;
little Alex climbed in the wagon, as happy as a king's son, instead of being a
poor tired child. The next question was, "Where is mother and Mary?"
"They are behind somewhere, 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 like a tired child
and never wake up. Mary was afraid mother would, and tried to arouse her by
telling her there was a team coming with only one yoke of cattle on.
"Well, never mind; Mary, don't bother me." "Well, mother, the
man is running this way; mother, it surely is Robert!" "Oh, no, Mary,
that would be too good to be true." Well, she was soon convinced with
tears and kisses; he helped her in the wagon; then she said, "I could not
be more thankful to get into the kingdom of heaven than I am to get in this
wagon."
Then explanations followed. He told how he had been sick with the mountain
fever; how he had got our letter saying we were coming, and as soon as he could
walk, he prepared to come and meet us; he got cattle from one, wagon and cover
from another, provisions from others. So we proved, "God helps those who
help themselves."
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The Tired Mother
Source of Trail Excerpt:
Goodwin, Betsey Smith, "The
Tired Mother: Pioneer Recollections," Improvement
Era, July 1919, 775-81.
Read Trail Excerpt:
After six or seven weeks’
sailing, seasickness, and stormy weather, we landed in New
York City, registered at the Castle
Garden, and in a few days we reached Iowa, by rail.
There we camped for weeks, waiting for the
handcarts to be completed for the journey. While there, I was so sick with
scarlet fever that I could not open my eyes. I heard Sisters [Jane Allison] Henderson and [Jane
McKinnon] McPhail say, “I am sorry she is dying; another death in camp soon!”
One baby had just died. I seemed to know that they were speaking of me, and
when mother came in from the camp-fire, with warm broth, she saw the tears in
my eyes.
“Are you worse?” she asked me.
"Mother they think I am dying: I want to
live and go to the Valley.”
My dear mother, at that time in her fifty-second
year, then went and brought the elders, who administered to me and rebuked the
disease, commanding it to leave both me and the camp. My recovery was rapid. I
was able to travel, and on the 15th day of July, 1856, we rolled out of the Iowa City camp, on our way
to cross the plains with handcarts. Our captain was James Gray Willie, and his
counselors were: Millen Atwood and Levi Savage. There were 120 handcarts and
six wagons, and about five hundred people, sixty-six of whom died on the
journey.
We soon became accustomed to traveling twenty
and twenty four miles a day. My little brother [Alexander Joseph Smith], six
years of age, used to travel that distance, by me taking his hand to encourage
him, and by telling him stories of the future and the good things in store for
us.
Around the camp-fire we had very good times.
There was Brother [Alexander] Burt, Brother David Anderson and others, and our
girls 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 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, Come, Ye
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 I stood by a grave where sixteen
people were buried at once; 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 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 coming!”
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.”
We did 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.
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 encouraging 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!
We arrived at Lehi in due time,
and Bishop Evans welcomed us to his ward.
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