(I know it is a few months away from Xmas, but thought I would share)
I cannot call you Arthur, because
it does not have the genuine sound to me. Yours of Nov. 18, arrived this
morning, and I was so glad when I peered from my window and saw the many
stamped envelope in the post-man's hand. I knew there was a treat for me. Only
on one consideration will I consent to shorter letters, & that is that you
write me once a week if only a few lines, which will be all I'll send this time
as it is within 25 min[utes]. of collecting mail, & I want the cards to
reach you by Christmas. Dearest, I see by your letter that I have written a
great deal of foolishness, some of which I fear has grieved you, for which I
ask sincerely for your pardon. The only palliation I can now offer is that it
will give you a clearer idea of the mercurial tendency of my disposition &
know better how to deal with me. I have invariably written to you just as I
felt at the time, knowing you would like that style better than any attempt at
disguise. The "suppressed grief" you speak of is imagination on your
part. I whine it all out to you. My health is better, and I see the necessity
of taking better care of myself. We will move from here soon, direct your
letters to Liverpool. Life moves on in happier measures, and it don't seem long
before "I'll return to my country & you love." I sighed to think
how soon I am forgotten when I read of Hiram [Clawson]'s abstraction. Read
& give him the enclosed Xmas card. It may revive his flickering
recollection of one of "Auld lang Syne." (Martha Hughes Cannon, Letter,
December 6, 1886, repr. The Correspondence of Martha Hughes Cannon and Angus
M. Cannon, 1886-1888, ed. Constance L. Lieber and John Sillito [Significant
Mormon Diaries Series No. 3; Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 1989], 80-81)
What a happy New Year to us to
think how things have "quirked"1 in our behalf, but by all means be
cautious, for of a surety I believe they are preparing to pounce upon you
again, and will put forth tremendous effort to make of it a sure thing next
time. The Grand Mogul won't be whipped without severe retaliation. Yours of the
3rd ult. reached me Xmas day with draft. (Emma Quirk, Letter to Angus M.
Cannon, January 3, 1887, repr. The Correspondence of Martha Hughes Cannon
and Angus M. Cannon, 1886-1888, ed. Constance L. Lieber and John Sillito
[Significant Mormon Diaries Series No. 3; Salt Lake City: Signature Books,
1989], 83)
Your kind Xmas greeting was
handed me last eve by one who came to attend the Conference in the great
metropolis. Glad was I to hear from you, & to learn of your joy in meeting
your loved ones on the birthday of our Savior (Emma Quirk, Letter to Angus M.
Cannon January 18, 1887, repr. The Correspondence of Martha Hughes Cannon
and Angus M. Cannon, 1886-1888, ed. Constance L. Lieber and John Sillito
[Significant Mormon Diaries Series No. 3; Salt Lake City: Signature Books,
1989], 89)
We spent Xmas with my husband’s
cousin Isaac Conway Morris who lived in a house on North Temple and near Fourth
West Street. The room was without ceiling and I think without plaster. The fi
re was composed of three small sticks of wood placed across two adobes and the
sticks were so green that we could see the sap ooze out of them and hear it
sing. Wood was scarce everywhere, as the canyon had been snowed up since the autumn.
They had a little baby, born on the plains September 13th, three months
previous, and as they had been in our ten, we were acquainted with the
circumstance. .
Our supper was very plain,
consisting of potatoes, some kind of bread and I think a small amount of meat,
perhaps a little piece of bacon.
The house was very cold, and we
sat keeping warm this fire of three green sticks, and all the light we had came
from the same source. And so passed our first Xmas in the Valley. (“Sketch of
the Life of Mary L. Morris, 1835-1887,” in Before the Manifesto: The Life Writings
of Mary Lois Walker Morris, ed. Melissa Lambert Milewski [Life Writings of
Frontier Women 9; Logan, Utah: Utah State University Press, 2007], 109)
And now Christmas, 1865 was
approaching and I wondered what I could do for my little ones, for every little
girl at lease wants a doll. It is always well to begin to think of Xmas early
and I think this was the year in which we did as follows.
. . .
Xmas came, and the new dolls were
a great source of joy to my little girls, but poor little Addie was doomed to
sorrow for her precious doll dropped upon the hearthstones and was shattered to
fragments. Who could comfort her? I had no money, or prospect of any, so all I
could do was to gather up the pieces and put them away in a drawer for she
would not hear of their being destroyed, and there she would go and peep in,
sobbing as if her heart would break, just as a bereaved mother might look at
her departed baby. This, I think, must have been Addie’s first sorrow. (“Sketch
of the Life of Mary L. Morris, 1835-1887,” in Before the Manifesto: The Life
Writings of Mary Lois Walker Morris, ed. Melissa Lambert Milewski [Life
Writings of Frontier Women 9; Logan, Utah: Utah State University Press, 2007], 139,
140)
The second book, given with the
same kind spirit for Addie, had belonged to Mrs. Stenhouse’s little Florence
and had been kept with the same care as the other one. The title was “Hop o’ My
Thumb”, and towards Xmas I managed to get a dime or so and bought a small, but
very pretty book for my little Conway. This was “Mother Goose’s Rhymes”,
daintily illustrated. (“Sketch of the Life of Mary L. Morris, 1835-1887,” in Before
the Manifesto: The Life Writings of Mary Lois Walker Morris, ed. Melissa
Lambert Milewski [Life Writings of Frontier Women 9; Logan, Utah: Utah State
University Press, 2007], 146)
The following winter she went to
school. About Christmas time Sister Sarah M. Kimball, president of our Relief
Society, offered a prize of a gold ring for the best essay on the Birth of
Christ. Sister Kimball remarked that if her daughter Lizzie [Kimball] would
read it, she would write an essay for her upon this subject. I concluded that
if it was right for Sister Kimball to indite the paper for her daughter, it was
perfectly proper for me to do so for mine, knowing that with her retiring
nature, Effi e would deserve the ring if she could get suffi cient courage to
read the essay. So I carefully read over the story as contained in the Gospels
and one morning I arose early and taking my paper in hand, asked for Divine
guidance upon my labor. Sister Kimball had charge of the affair which was to be
held on Christmas Day. The meeting house was darkened and candles burning upon
a large Xmas tree gave a subdued but beautiful illumination. Bishop Edward
Hunter, of the Presiding Bishopric was the guest of honor and Mrs. Belle
Guthrie and Bro. T. C. Griggs the adjudicating committee, with one other. Effi
e wore a very plain, neatly fi tting black and blue plaid dress with a pink
ribbon. One of the girls who was competing was a rather pompous person and
dressed accordingly, and as Effi e passed her she seemed to feel an infl uence
come from her, which might have been expressed in these words;—“You need not
think that a poor little thing like you can get the prize”. This added to poor
little Effi e’s nervousness and lifting up her heart to God she asked Him to
cause that the one who deserved the prize might get it. This simple earnest
prayer could not fail to ascend to the place to which it was wafted by a
sincere heart. I suppose too, that Effi e read the little essay in a spirit of
humility, trusting in God alone. In any case, it proved satisfactory to the
adjudicators and she received the ring. This added to the enjoyment of our Xmas
repast, to which we had invited Mrs. Lulu [Louisa Lula] Green Richards, Editor
of the Woman’s Exponent and herhusband Elder Levi W. [Willard] Richards, fellow
missionary with your father, to Great Britain. Your dear Aunt Aggie and Aunt
Kesiah [Keziah Downes] Pratt were also our guests upon this occasion. One of
the dishes we had for dinner was dressed ducks. Your father said something
about the bones, and Bro. Richards rather humorously remarked that he supposed
they were made to hold the meat that was on them. (“Sketch of the Life of Mary
L. Morris, 1835-1887,” in Before the Manifesto: The Life Writings of Mary
Lois Walker Morris, ed. Melissa Lambert Milewski [Life Writings of Frontier
Women 9; Logan, Utah: Utah State University Press, 2007], 163-64)
The next day it was again wet and
miserably cold but as Sunday is the day for pleasure and also a great day for
business, and as this was my only chance to buy some drawn work which I wanted
for Xmas presents, I in company with one of the sisters, went over the border
to do a little shopping. We visited a number of stores and saw a great quantity
of drawn work of different grades. One of the pieces was worth $150.00 and took
an expert hand a year to make. There was also a great amount of silk shawls, filigree
work, shell work, etc. The sister said that this was a very wicked place and I
certainly seemed to feel a strange influence as I went from store to store.
This feeling of Oppression seemed to weigh me down, mind and body. Upon
reaching home, even, I could not escape from it, for it seemed to have followed
me. I proposed that we have evening prayer. Just then our Good Shepherd, as we
calledour faithful guide and companion, happened to come in and he knelt with
us, asking that this influence might be removed, and it was, and peace abode
with us. (“Exile in Mexico, 1902-1905,” in Before the Manifesto: The Life Writings
of Mary Lois Walker Morris, ed. Melissa Lambert Milewski [Life Writings of
Frontier Women 9; Logan, Utah: Utah State University Press, 2007], 536)
Although it was winter the sun
was constantly shining so I made two sun-bonnets out of a piece of old
sheeting, with paper slats inserted to stiffen them. Being a milliner by trade
I had not forgotten how to do such things and one I made for Baby particularly
was considered very cute. I also made another for a Xmas present for Baby
Jasamine from a piece of clean white flour sack, but it was neat and as
becoming as the one made for our own baby, and pronounced very cute by her
parents. Aunt Margaret said she would have her picture taken in it as a
souvenir of our fi rst Christmas in Mexico. (“Exile in Mexico, 1902-1905,” in Before
the Manifesto: The Life Writings of Mary Lois Walker Morris, ed. Melissa
Lambert Milewski [Life Writings of Frontier Women 9; Logan, Utah: Utah State
University Press, 2007], 538)
The day before Christmas I was
very busy preparing for the feast, for Aunt Margaret’s family and our own were
to celebrate the day together. I cleaned and prepared the turkey and made a
plum pudding. On Xmas morning as the pudding was boiling merrily upon the
stove, I was invited to see the Christmas tree and the presents.
. . .
During the afternoon, little Miss
Exora, daughter of our friend Mrs. Bently, called to see us and was invited to
eat gingersnaps, and telling her mother later of this little enjoyment, the
next morning Sister Bently sent me a loving Christmas card, which touched my
heart in its finest fibers being a stranger in a strange land. It occurred to
me that the card might have been the only one in the settlement and it is now
safely placed in my box of treasures. We spent the evening pleasantly in Aunt
Margaret’s cozy parlor and before separating, Margaret read a portion from the
Book of St. Matthew and then we had prayers and so ended our first Xmas in Old
Mexico.(“Exile in Mexico, 1902-1905,” in Before the Manifesto: The Life Writings
of Mary Lois Walker Morris, ed. Melissa Lambert Milewski [Life Writings of
Frontier Women 9; Logan, Utah: Utah State University Press, 2007], 539)
Ipswich, England Sept. 11 — 06
Dear Zina —
As my health has been failing for
some time past, it has been deemed wisdom for me to spend this month visiting
in the different branches of the conference, and especially the towns on or
near the coast, so I am now in my old field, Ipswich, where I was laboring one
year ago, and already I feel the effect of the bracing sea breezes which blow
over the city. I will not do any tracting this month but will spend my time as
a real—tired gent, trying to grow fat as I have lost thirty pounds in weight
since xmas so you can imagine what I look like (a lamp post minus the lamp). (Hugh
B. Brown, Letter to Zina Card Brown, September 11, 1906, repr. An Abundant Life:
The Memoirs of Hugh B. Brown, ed. Edwin B. Firmage [Salt Lake City:
Signature Book, 1988], 35)
Cardston, Alta. Apr. 27 — 07
My Dear Zina;—
Yes, I am in Canada once more.
How strange it all seems, but, when I step out in the blizzard that is sweeping
over this country, I cannot doubt that it is "Canada." It has been
snowing and blowing here for several days and looks more like xmas than spring.
(Hugh B. Brown, Letter to Zina Card Brown, April 27, 1907, repr. An Abundant
Life: The Memoirs of Hugh B. Brown, ed. Edwin B. Firmage [Salt Lake City:
Signature Book, 1988], 42)
