I was born July 4^th, 1882 at East Mill Creek, then Salt Lake County, Utah. Now the City has extended its boundaries and thousands of lovely homes have been built, so that most of my old familiar land marks have become paved roads, homes, business sections, schools, churches, etc.

When I was a small boy I had long curly ringlets, and my mother, bless her heart, kept me in dresses until I was old enough to go to school. One day I went across the field one half mile to play with my cousin of nine years. Everyone made such a fuss over my long hair, and dresses. I can remember the exclamations: "Oh how sweet! And "Just like a little girl." I was so mortified that when I got home I asked my mother, why I couldn’t have pants and short hair, like my cousin who was younger than I. When my father brought home the shears and comb, mother went into the next room and cried. Even Daddy shed a tear or two. As for me I sat so still, like a mouse, and as proud as a peacock. Mamma must have worked all night, for the next morning there were pants and shirt and even a pair of shoes by my bed. Who has not known the joy of feeling grown up? The pants were made out of Daddy’s old gray flannels and I thought they were grand. But as so often happens, the pants got dirty and had to be washed and when I put them on again they came halfway between my ankles and knees. It wasn’t long before the laughing boys said, "Piercie, I think you need to have a surprise party in your shoes and invite your pants down." To save the situation, I wore knee pants. They were quite in style.

I remember the first store suit I ever hand. It was a good one. Father bought it at a fire sale. I was then twelve or thirteen years old and very proud of it. I wore it to Sunday school and to meeting to pass the Sacrament and to everything of importance until it was to small and then it was passed on to one of my younger brothers, a familiar custom in our home. I must have been a very naughty boy when I was small. One day I took some eggs from my grandfather Fisher’s coop and bought some candy at the store. When I got home I was asked where I got the candy. I promptly replied that grandfather had given me some eggs. Of course, they knew better. Father came with a willow and after he had finished I ran to mother for pity. Did I get it? No! She borrowed the stick, which was not quite worn out, and followed my father’s example.

And one day I took my Heavenly Father’s name in vain. Thank you, my dear father and mother, that in the crucial moment you were united in purpose. The name of my Father in Heaven since that day had been more sacred than anything in all the world to me.

At the age of twelve I was ordained a Deacon and became the president of the quorum. I went often to the Salt Lake Temple with my father to be baptized for our kindred dead and I have a slight memory of being there at the dedication also.

One day I came from school with a sore throat, which proved to be a dreaded disease, diphtheria. I was the third child in a family of 14, eight boys and six girls. Why should I be the one to bring it home to all my brothers and sisters. I kept getting worse. Some of the children were sent to live at grandmother’s house. One evening my father asked me if I would like the Elders to administer to me. I said, "Yes" and when he asked me who I would like, I answered at once, "Brother Wordle and Wyseman our faithful ward teachers. And after they blessed me said, "Now you will be well in the morning, won’t you?" I answered, "Yes, thank you". Needless to say when the morning came, I arose from my bed. The disease was gone.

The house was cleaned up and my oldest sister returned home just in time to be the next sick patient in my dear mother’s house. Our kind old Doctor Murphy was constantly by her bedside. One day he said, "There is only one thing left to do." Father and the doctor placed their hands upon her head, and as soon as they said, "Amen’, our sister stood on her feet supported by those who had blessed her. From her throat came a long flat strip of yellowish mucus, resembling a lamp wick, as I remember about 6 or 8 inches long. The breath of life again returned to her body and her face resumed it’s natural color. But for a year she was not able to speak. But the ward fasted and prayed for her and the Elders promised that she would have her voice returned to her. From then until now her voice had responded in speech and in song.

I had a very kind Bishop to whom my parents had taught me to pay tithing when but a small boy. No matter how small the amount, he made me feel that it was a great privilege our Heavenly Father had extended to us, that He might have a channel through which to confer His blessings.

At the age of 15 years I was ordained a Teacher. About this time my father had sold some trees to Brother Taylor which he was to plant around his farm near Calder Park. I was helping dig the trees when noon came. Father said, "Come, son, we will go down by the creek and have some bread and duck for dinner". That sounded good, and after the blessing he said, "Here is the bread and this is the duck." So after him, I dipped my bread in the crystal water and it tasted much better than the dry bread. Next day, it fell to my lot to help plant the trees. We drove near the door of the newly built home. In the doorway, stood a beautiful maiden about my own age or older. As she spoke to my father and smiled at me. I though I would never see so sweet and lovely and so from then on she was my dream girl and I longed to go back and water the trees we had planted that I might see her again. In my 16^th year, the early frost took most of our fruit crop. What little we could glean was sold during the summer. My elder brother was preparing to go on a mission to the southern states. We had hauled our winter wood from the mountains and father having two large families to keep, I thought I would be justified in going with the sheep herds that were just passing through from the summer pasture in the mountains, to the winter range in the valley. I desired to go with them but father said "No". He would sooner do without what little I could make, rather than endanger the life he had tried so hard t build, to the habits of the sheep camps, which were not of a very high standard in those days.

The winter passed as usual, only that I was still restless, hardly knowing what to do with myself. There seemed to be coming into my life, new" companions, new conditions to overcome, new temptations, the mingling with older boys and girls. Up until now, I had had companions of my own age, sweet and wholesome. But, now they were all in school and I only saw them on Sunday and at our ward parties and gatherings. But this wasn’t to last long. My kind Heavenly Father who loves all His children, inspired His servants to enter my name on the list of those to be called to assist in colonizing the Saints in Canada, that goodly land across the border, to work on the canal for which the Church was responsible. So, I was asked by my Bishop when I went to settle my tithing, to be prepared when the call came. It wasn’t long in coming and it was then I though of my dear father’s words, "The Lord will provide, my son." "He has never failed us yet." The call was signed by President Lorenzo Snow and president Joseph F. Smith with instructions that I should ship my meager belongings with Isaac Fletcher, Peter Peterson, Isaac Jacobs and their families who were to leave for Canada the last week in March 1899. We answered "Yes" and I resolved to do my best to fulfill the call. This is when I felt in my heart that I will go where you want me to go, dear Lord and say what you want me to say. When father said, "It is a long mission, I wonder if you will get homesick and return, from down deep in my heart I replied, "I may get homesick but I will never return to stay until my mission is fulfilled. Father gave me his only team and harness and the running gear of a wagon, some bedding and two week’s food, some clothes and this was the size of my belongings.

One of the mares I was to take was quite thin, so father traded her for a large fat horse. The day we were to leave, Arthur Chapman who was an old horse trader said the horse’s name was Tom, so Tom it was. Before leaving, father gave me a blessing in which he said, "My son, if ever you are in trouble if you will face the Holy Temple, your prayers will be answered for your good. This promise has been fulfilled many times.

The morning after our little farewell party with my friends and loved ones, my father and mother went with me to the city, where for the first time mother met Sister Fletcher. I can see her now as they embraced each other and my mother said, "You will be a mother to my boy, won’t you." Yes, mother dear, she kept her promise and Brother Fletcher was like a father to me as long as they lived.

There was quite a crowd of us going on the same mission, some went before and others after. As we crossed the Canadian border, just as the sun was going down, we all sang, bidding farewell to the Stars and Stripes. Then Brother Peterson, who had a very fine Tenor voice, led us in singing some of our lovely hymns. Late that night we arrived in Stirling, where we stayed until morning. Stirling, at that time consisted of a small store, a few tents, not even a fence. As far as the eye could see it was a prairie of waving grass. The next day, as I remember, part of the company went on to Cardston to secure a contract on the canal.

On the Pothole Coulee, about half way between Stirling and Cardston, Brother Peterson secured a load of lumber with which he built a one-room shack for his family to live in. This was the first house built on the Magrath town site and was about two miles from our work. Brother Jacob’s family lived in a tent. During the summer there were about 50 houses and dugouts prepared for the winter. The families being cared for, we went to work. Our company consisted of Brother Fletcher, two teams and two single hands, P. Peterson, one team, Isaac Jacobs, one team and myself, one team. For two seasons we worked together. We had no misgivings, each working for the interest of all.

I was so anxious to do my full share that I often wrangled the horses in the morning out of my turn, and anything extra I could do, I did to compensate for the faults of old Tom, who proved to be a problem horse. When I first hitched my team on the empty wagon he refused to go ahead. I tied old Dean back and tried it again, but still he wouldn’t be pulled ahead. Being alone at the time, I knelt down by the wagon and talked to Heavenly Father, and I remembered the blessing of my father and I turned my face Southward. Then I talked to Tom a minute or two and told him he just had to do it. We rode around for a short time and I took them off the wagon and hitched them to the scraper. Again he refused to go, and again I did as I had done before, and when I said, "Come on Tom, let’s go", he lunged ahead up the hill and into the dirt, roaring like a lion as he went. He was broken winded. I allowed them to go around empty a few times adding a little more dirt until finally with care, we were taking a full load, but oh the noise old Tom made. In the afternoon I pulled into the main circle, but the man we had loading scrapers didn’t understand the battle Tom and I were having and he would stick the scrapers into the unplowed ground until I had to pullout in a circle of my own. After that we all loaded our own scrapers. In answer to my prayers, Old Tom became the best scraper horse on the job. But he was always getting me into trouble. Besides his roaring noise, when he was turned out at night, he would leave the other horses and return to camp after having his fill of grass, and steal the oats. He could always tell where they were cached and often tore the tent down to find them.

The summer passed with nothing to do but follow the scraper. When the days work ended, we would catch a few pike fish and I would often stroll along the shore of the Pot Hole Creek and gather pretty rocks to take home as souvenirs. I must have been thinking of home, sweet home.

No one worked on Sunday and when Sunday school was organized I was chosen to be a teacher. In the spring of 1900, old Tom was quite thin having wintered on the range, but with a little oats and hay he was soon strong and ready for work. Our fist job was quite sandy and on a heavy cut. We would pull the dirt out of the cut and dump it over a high embankment, then with our scrapers, drag as much dirt as we would to the bottom. Old Tom with his roaring noise would so frighten the teamsters ahead, they would hurry to get out of his way, or pullout of line and let us pass. One day, our village blacksmith came into camp leading a nice looking mare, but thin. He wanted a grain fed horse to break sod with. All the boys decided that old Tom should go, so I traded. But the little mare would only work one hour in the morning and one in the after- noon. And though I fed her all the oats she could eat, still she gave out. So we decided to turn her out on the range and that I should get hand labor at the neighboring camp until I could earn enough to buy another horse. It was here, I met for the first time, one of the boys who had been called from our ward when I was. We slept in the same tent. He had been breaking the Word of Wisdom but before two weeks had passed, he would kneel with me in prayer. He threw away his tobacco and in the evening we would sing some of our hymns and read from the New Testament or Pearl of Great Price that father had put into my trunk and in four weeks I had saved fifty dollars, enough to buy me a good horse. I attended all the meetings I could and was ordained a Priest. I helped with the sacrament, sang in the choir and played in dramas during the winter months when we couldn’t work.

The day we were married I shall never forget. At the opening meeting, the choir sang my two favorite hymns more beautifully than I had ever heard them sang before. "Ye simple souls who stray" and "Down by the River’s verdant side". Not tears of sorrow but tears of joy filled our eyes and took their place upon our cheeks, as we listened to those strains of sweet music pealed forth from the heart of the lovely organ.

Oh, what rapture filled our bosoms as we passed through that impressive service to the activities of the morning.

I have often thought how nice it would be if those same beautiful songs and sweet music could be heard as we crossed

the Bar together and find a place of activity in our Heavenly Father’s kingdom, that hand in hand together we may

continue our labors of love and blessing among our Heavenly Father’s spirit children, that our lives together might continue to be romance of kindness and love.

In the spring, we returned to Magrath and built our first little home. That Fall, the winds were cold and old Jack Frost closed our canal work for the Winter, with the exception of one camp known as Hammond Camp. This work was a deep long cut and in order to keep it open, the plow team had to work night and day often in 40 below Zero weather, and most of the time very cold. This camp of about 50 men worked all winter at a wage of 121/2 cents an hour. We were grateful to the Church for keeping this camp open all winter at a loss of many dollars, that we might have work.

I was given a small roan team and a scraper. The dirt was drawn out of the cut and dumped over a high cut bank. Making it very hard to drive the team so that when the dirt was dumped it would roll down the steep bank, and so that the horses could keep their footing on top, so as not to be dragged over the bank with the scraper. It took a great deal of skill. The quick turn of the horses at the proper moment in order to keep their footing became quite a skill for which I was highly commended by our bosses. Frequently, a team and a scraper would go rolling down over the big frozen clods of dirt to the bottom, breaking the harness and scraper and cutting the horses. Buy my little roan team, quick and alert, never had this misfortune. I never swore at my horses but I often prayed for them. I had learned the value of praying with my work.

In the spring, this job being completed, we went back to our camp. We had one more man added to our company, David Hilton. The work went on smoothly until our contracts were finished and it became our privilege to help others complete their jobs, from the head of the canal to the final job. And when the railroad was being built, we took a contract and helped with the dirt work from Stirling through Magrath to Cardston. Just as Apostle Taylor had promised a year more before that we would soon have. Apostle Taylor, who was so loved by the early settlers and who took an active part in the interests of the church among us, stood in the house where we were having our meetings and gave us a picture of the growth of this great Land of Zion. He said that in a short time we would be able to look northward from this window and see the train as it steamed into our little town. And to those who may be discouraged and were looking southward he said, "The time would come when we would be able to leave here, go to Salt Lake, do our shopping and return in the same day", and he said many other things I have seen with my natural eye, as he saw them in vision, of the growth in this part of Canada; and the development of the work of the Lord here. I have often wondered why this great man of vision could not also see the day when he would become out of harmony with his Quorum and would not accept the council of the Lord given through His Anointed Prophet, as relating to plural marriage, and thus loose his standing in this glorious Church which is the Church of our Savior and not of man and why can’t we always say in our hearts "If I have wronged a child or caused one soul to go astray or walked in my own willful way, Dear Lord, forgive"

On this subject of plural marriage I received the following testimony. President Joseph F. Smith and President Lund came from Salt Lake and at a meeting at our Conference at Magrath in 1905 spoke to us and said "The Lord who at one time had commanded his saints (at least of few of them) to take plural wives, for a wise purpose in him has now taken the principle from the earth and that not a soul now living had a right to perform a plural marriage anywhere in the world. I never forgot my feeling when these great leaders stood before us and spoke. President Smith spoke with such feeling and power that a halo of light shone around him and I knew he spoke the truth.

Then President Lund spoke with such kindness I had never heard before. He said "We are not two faced, we mean what we say. The Lord has taken it away from the earth". I have prized this testimony as one of my priceless gems, "That the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord". I have learned if we would be happy we must take things as they come and be willing to part with them when they are taken from us.

There is another experience I would now like to relate that took place in the year 1899. The grass had been frozen and was dry like powder. I was elected to cut and haul some of this dry prairie wool, as the men called it, claiming that it would be better than snow for our horses in the winter. One cold, windy morning I left camp riding on one horse and leading the other. In my arm I carried a sharpened hay knife, lunch and water to drink because the mower had been left where I had been cutting hay the day before. In the hustle and hurry to get away on time, I think I must have forgotten my usual morning prayer. For as I neared the spot where our hay had been piled ready for hauling the horse I was riding slipped in a badger hole and would have fallen had I not jerked her head back with the lines I held in my right hand. In doing so I jabbed my elbow against the sharp knife cutting a deep ugly gash. With my lunch cloth I dressed my arm as best I could and went to work. Being delayed in starting early I decided to give the team one long shift and go home. In order to get the old mower to cut the grass I had to urge my horses on a fast walk. This kept my arm from getting stiff but as the hours wore on it became cold and sore and I was chilled to the bone. So where the badgers had made a great mound of dirt I made a fire to warm my frozen arm for the sun was getting low in the west and I could soon go back to camp. Then came the unguarded moment, the evil hour, a gush of wind had caught a live spark and hurled it into the edge of the grass. Like a flash, with my coat in hand, I was on top of the flames beating with all my might. Why wouldn’t the wind stop and give me a chance? It did stop for a moment and I thought I was going to get the upper hand but another puff and away the fire went taking the piles of hay. The smoke was rising higher and higher. Eastward it was being driven in leaps and bounds. My only chance now was to follow the south line. Securing my team from the fire I fought on alone, but not for long. Every man and boy in the village and up and down the canal for miles came with barrels of water in their wagons in which to dip their sacks and were on the job fighting with might and main. As I now looked at the great cloud of smoke reaching high in the sky pressing eastward away from the setting sun, with leaping flames of fire on either side; and with a strip as black as night in between. I though that all the little imps of Hades were out on parade to hinder me in fulfilling the call I had received and to bring my mission to Canada to a close. In each curling, twisting flame, as it sent it’s smoke skyward, I could see that Satanic grin, laughing at my futile attempt to fight the battle alone. But when my friends came in answer to my prayer I felt somewhat encouraged. Later, when darkness came, the wind had ceased and it was calm. The sky was blue and the stars were shining. Still the flames were curling heavenward, and the men from the other side of the fire line could be seen drawing nearer to each other. As I stood between them with a heart full of gratitude, with a sack which I had traded for my worn out coat I struck the last little flame. As I did so an aged man with a beard, wearing a white shirt, put his hand on my shoulder and said, "my boy, as I was fighting by your side I could see the joint water running from the wound in your elbow’. ( I had torn off the sleeve to keep it from rubbing the sore) "If you will allow me I will tie it up. I’m afraid your arm will be stiff if you lose any more of the water". So, with a strip from the whitest part of his shirt and a handkerchief (and I think he blessed me as he did) he tied up my wound. This kind man did not know then that he would some day be the Grandfather of my children. I thanked him very kindly. Tired and hungry, I turned to go to the wagon when another aged man, a veteran of the Civil War, drew near my side and said, "Young man, if I were you I would get on a saddle horse tonight and beat it across the line. It is only thirty five miles and you can make it by morning". The story had gone up and down the line almost as fast as the fire itself. The Fisher kid, while mowing hay, had started the fire. Hence, the advice of the kind old man. With a sick heart and frightened feeling I took my place in the wagon by my friend with whom I had worked that summer. I longed for the council of my father, but I couldn’t go home -my mission had only begun. I quote the words of Ripen at the death of his sainted mother, "Nothing but the love of God and the friendship of man can give that spiritual power that one needs in a moment of great sorrow". I felt that I had them both, the love of God, and the friendship of man, so why should I have feared.

The next morning, my arm being dressed, the men at camp had all gone out to work. I, not being able to work, was to prepare dinner. About 10 o’clock two mounties rode into camp. I had never smoked as they found out from those who knew me also, though unwise, it was not carelessness on my part that the fire had started. They heard my confession and story. As they mounted their beautiful steeds one of them said, "My boy, whatever you do, don’t leave the country and we will do all we can for you". I next met them at our celebration of the first of July the following year. They again dismounted, shook my hand and assured me that no action would be taken. I thanked them with all my heart. Again the Red Coats mounted their beautiful steeds. They had become my friends.

In the spring of 1900 the grass was green as far eastward as the eye could see. We secured a portion of this land as a lease for the people of Magrath to run their cattle in summer. As President of the Conservative Party I, with others, signed the agreement of lease which is still a great blessing to the people. The Magrath lease, as I understand it, is still in force, thanks to the untiring efforts of my committee members. At that time we had elected our dear friend, the Honorable C. A. Magrath, to the Canadian Parliament. It was through his influence we were able to secure the grazing lease, if I remember correctly, for a hundred years. I wish we could do the same in Hill Spring where I have lived since 1910 that the people there might have a place to pasture their stock in the summer.

While in Magrath I was District Weed Inspector for a number of years. I also operated a governmental experimental plot for a few years. I planted some windbreaks and hundreds of trees for our neighbors in Magrath for I delighted to make the wilderness become a fruitful field.

We raised all kinds of small fruit, strawberries, raspberries, currents, etc. I, also, had a keen interest in the sugar beet industry in Magrath and later in Hill Spring and Glenwood. For a few years I was councilor to Z. W. Jacobs in the Religion Class in the Taber Stake. Traveling by horse and buggy to Taber on the East and Spring Coulee on the west, organizing and sustaining the religion class in each school district where our people had settled that the children might be taught the beautiful Eternal Principles of life while receiving their secular training. It is hard to estimate the good resulting from this organization now supplanted by the Seminary of the Church. Laboring with such men as Z. W. Jacobs, .Arthur Dahl, J. W. Allred, Brother Hyde, Brother Daulton, Joseph Harker, John Forsyth, Roy Coleman and others, at one of our Council Meetings held at the home of Bishop Levi Harker who was present at the time, President Jacobs while bearing his testimony made the following prediction: that from those present would, in the various Stakes and Wards, be called to fill many leading positions; and some would be chosen to the high calling of Patriarchs. Each one present at that meeting has been called as was promised: three Patriarchs, one Temple President, Bishops of Wards, members in Stake Presidencies. All have been leaders in various callings giving

their all to the work of the Lord so dear to their hearts.

I did my first farming with a hand plow and a disk and harrow. Some of our first grain was hand sown and well harrowed.