Delaun Mills Cox

Delaun Mills Cox was born 24 of March 1850 in Manti, Utah, about where the east end of the first terrace of the temple now stands, on the south side of Temple Hill.

He was the son of Orville Sutherland Cox who was born 25 November 1814, Plymouth N. Y. and Elvira P. Mills, born 2 March, 1820, Nelson, Portage County, Ohio, who crossed the plains in C. C. Rich's Company, arriving in the Valley in October 1847, with two children, Almer and Adelia.

Here is another story, dealing mostly with his youth, inserted here.

From Kane County [Utah] Standard, Weekly newspaper, 26 Sep 1930. 6 part story
by A. H. Gibbons

In the fall of '49 President Young called settlers to the Sanpete valley. The Cox family were among those who moved, settling on the present site of Manti on the south side of the spur of the mountain, now Temple hill. Here, Orville Cox, father of Delaun Cox, made a dugout for his family. The front and sides were made of cedar logs. It was really comfortable compared to many of the makeshift homes. It was this home that Delaun, the first white child born in Manti, was born and spent the first 11 years of his life. Though they raised plenty for themselves as a rule, they were nearly always hungry because of dividing with their neighbors.

His mother was a natural nurse, and spent much of her time in the care of the sick. But her son was never neglected and her own children were all taught to work. Delaun remembers spooling quilting and handing threads for his mother to pull through the harness and reeds in the loom. When the squaws would bring their naked and shivering papooses and beg for bread and clothing, his mother would give old shirts and other articles of clothing. It was Delaun's task to first remove all the buttons as they were very scarce in those days. They also made use of all their old stockings.

A New Papoose Joins the Family

One day as Delaun (he was called Laun) sat on the doorstep unraveling old stockings from which he wove himself a blanket, he looked up and saw a small group of Indians approaching the house.

"Mother," he called, "it looks like the Indians are bringing another papoose for you to doctor. I wonder what is the matter with this one?"

"Poor thing," she answered, coming to the door, then after a pause, "It isn't one of their own, see how they are jerking it around and scolding it. It is a captive."

As they stopped before the door, the little papoose dropped to the ground. After stepping forward and looking at it, Sister Cox said, "Papoose heap sick, tired." The squaw who had been dragging it laughed and a tall, surly Indian grunted, "Sick, no heap stubborn."

"She not your papoose, you heap good to yours." Her motherly heart went out in sympathy for abused and mistreated little captive. "It will never live through this treatment," she said to her son.

You leave papoose with me. I make her well," she said to the Indians. They stood silent for a moment, then began talking in low tones.

"Give us some biscuits," one finally said. Sister Cox went into the house and returned with a cupful of flour and a small piece of meat. "I'll give you this," she offered, holding it out to them. "More," they grunted. "No, no more, my boy hungry, too," she answered, pointing to Delaun, who stood interestedly looking on.

They talked it over among themselves, the squaw reached for the meager provisions and they went silently away.

"I'll take her right in and give her a good warm bath and then she will feel better," said Sister Cox to her boy.

"Be sure and wash her head, won't you, mother."

"I certainly will. I'll grease it good, then give it a thorough washing and when it is dry, I will spread a newspaper down and let her comb it over that. Then we can burn everything. It will take several days to get rid of the vermin."

"What's vermin, Mother?" asked the boy.

"Lice, you know what that is, don't you?"

"Yes," replied the boy, "but don't give her the fine comb Uncle Sylvester Hulet made for us out of the horn."

"It is the only one we have. I can wash it and scald it good before we use it again."

Note: Sylvester Hulet had a set of fine saws that he used to make combs fine enough to comb lice eggs out of hair.

Sister Cox kept and cared for the little papoose for about two years, when it contracted measles and died.

Herding Sheep

During the summers when Delaun was 7, 8 and 9 years old, he herded sheep for his father about one mile and a half from Manti. He would start out in the morning with his lunch tied in a white sack and throw it over his shoulder. He would soon be joined by his friend, Lake Shoemaker, about a year younger than himself, who also herded a small bunch of sheep for his father. The sheep would graze together during the day, but when they returned home in the evening each bunch would go to its own corral.

Though the days were long and lonesome, as a rule two boys can be figured on to find something amusing to do. These two were no exception, and usually had all the fun that was coming to them. They had some troublesome experiences also, especially after the Indians began passing their herds frequently.

One day the boys were met by a young buck who was carrying a bow and several arrows in his hand. Delaun noticed one especially fine arrow, beautifully painted and feather tipped. His boy's heart was filled with desire for it.

"Say," he said, his mind immediately made up, "will you sell arrow? give you biscuit for arrow," and he quickly drew a biscuit from the lunch sack, knowing the sight of it would tempt the Indian. It proved to be the case for after looking longingly at the arrow, he passed it to the boy and, taking his biscuit, rode away.

After about half an hour the Indian returned. "More biscuit," he demanded curtly.

"Another arrow," bargained the boy.

"No, same arrow," and he reached for Delaun's dinner sack. Delaun stepped back, quickly drew another biscuit from the sack and passed it to the Indian who again rode away.

When Delaun saw him returning the third time he said to his companion, "Lake, let's eat dinner."

"Oh, it's too early. It's no more than eleven o'clock. We'll get hungry before night if we eat so early."

"We'll get hungrier if we wait till that Indian gets back and demands my last biscuit. I'm going to eat." Which he proceeded to do in all haste.

The Indian approached this time with an air of bravado. "More biscuit," he blustered.

"Gone, all gone," and Delaun showed him the empty dinner sack. The Indian turned to Lake and reached for his dinner, saying, "This, this."

"No, not mine, I have no arrow. This is my dinner," pleaded Lake, resisting earnestly. The Indian drew a large knife from his belt and raised it as if to stab the boy, then began cutting the sack from the boy's hand. Tears sprang to the boy's eyes and his face turned pale. This show of fear and emotion must have softened the Indian's heart for he turned and rode away.

When the boys told their fathers of their thrilling adventure and narrow escape, it was decided to purchase a dog as a protection. It was a large dog and proved to be just what they wanted. While it was playful and a real companion, it tolerated no interference from the Indians who still continued to frighten them and not infrequently demanded their lunches.

One of the boys placed his belt around the dog's neck in order that they might be able to hold it if occasion required. One day an old Indian was insistently demanding their dinner when the dog arose growling and showing his teeth. Both boys immediately grabbed the belt, one on each side, but it was almost more than they could do to keep the dog under control. The Indian seemed paralyzed with fear and stood trembling violently. When at last it occurred to him that he might escape he hit the trail in all haste.

On another occasion a number of Indians rode up. This time the dog did not wait for provocation but sprang at the throat of the leader. With a whoop the Indians turned and fled, but not before the dog had completely torn the breech cloth from the leader at the second jump. The Indians troubled them no more.

Johnston's Army

When Johnston's Army passed thru Oxhandle canyon, near Manti, there was great excitement in the town. Some of the leading men rushed to the protecting willows of the creek. They knew they would be taken if they remained. The bishop, however, was too late, having remained behind to do some important work. While working busily he heard a knock at the door. When he answered he found two army officers who inquired if that was the Bishop’s home.

"Yes," replied the bishop, "it is. Come in and take these two chairs while I go get another one from the other room." As he passed out he closed the door behind him, hastily seized his hat, slipped out of the back door and down to the creek to join his brethren. It has never been learned how long the officers waited.

Black Hawk war

During the perilous times of the Black Hawk war, Delaun's older brother, Orville, was called into the service and had to stand guard a part of each night. It was very difficult for the boy to keep awake at times and Delaun was sent to keep him company. The following year Delaun himself was mustered into the service and stood guard a part of each night for a month. Brother Cox receives a pension for this service now. During this war he remembers seeing two men killed and also remembers the Thistle Episode when every member of a non-Mormon family was massacred by the Indians before the white people could rescue them.

While they were in Manti his father, having implicit faith in all the divine commandments of the Prophet Joseph Smith, entered into the order of celestial marriage including plurality of wives. He married Mary Allen in 1853 and Eliza Losee in 1859.

Southern Utah

In the early sixties they all moved to Fairview, but on account of the Indian troubles the place was vacated and Cox moved his entire family to the Muddy. But the heat and poor water was too much for Delaun's mother's failing health, so she with part of her family returned to Fairview. Delaun remained on the Muddy to help with the work.

About half a dozen families from the north moved about fifty miles up to the head of Meadow Valley and started a settlement which they called Long Valley. After planting a crop of wheat, sugar beets and all kinds of garden products, they returned home to find work. Almer Cox, an older brother of Delaun's, was left in charge and was to receive a part of the crops for his work.

When ready to harvest, Delaun was sent for to help with the threshing and hauling of the grain. The wheat was threshed by standing the bundles of grain in a circle and driving oxen around and around until the grain was all trampled out. Squaws were hired to winnow the grain by tossing it in a shallow basket and blowing the chaff away.

While working there food ran low and they lived largely on boiled wheat and milk. The fact that they had two good milk cows was almost a life-saver to them. Matters were made worse by Indians frequently demanding a part of the food they could ill afford to spare. At one time Almer thought this insisting had gone far enough and was determined to not give in to them even though compelled to use his gun in self defense. "No," said Delaun, "wait, I believe they are only trying to bluff us." This really proved to be the case.

After the threshing was completed and the grain loaded, the boys started for home. When they had gone only about ten miles one of the oxen gave out. They tried to work one of the cows in its place, but the cow refused to do such menial work. The other cow likewise objected. In the ensuing struggle the boys lost their tempers and the cows each a horn, but the cows won out in the end.

"Well, I'll go for help," said Almer, "and you can stay with the load."

"No, we'll do it just the other way, I'll go for help and you stay on guard." So Delaun started on his forty mile hike with three biscuits and a canteen of water. Thinking to make better time he removed his shoes, but the hot sand and rough way made his feet so sore that he finally put willow leaves in his shoes after bathing his feet in order to relieve the pain. After traveling most of the night he became so tired he lay down to rest and dropped of to sleep.

Indian problems

When he awoke, he decided to shorten the distance by following some Indian trails on a cut off. When the trail divided, as luck would have it, he chose the wrong one. Then he only discovered his mistake when he ran into an Indian cache. When he heard the Indian war whoop he made back tracks in a hurry, forgetting even his sore and tired feet. He had only gone a mile or so, however, when the Indians caught up with him and formed a circle around him. Things looked bad for the boy.

They at once asked if he was a Dutchman. On being answered in the negative they told him that a Dutchman had killed an Indian and they intended to retaliate by killing all the Dutchmen they could find. Perhaps the pistol he carried helped to convince them that he was telling the truth. At any rate after he had explained how he had taken the wrong trail, not dreaming that there was an Indian cache until he had tumbled onto it, they let him go. After going a little farther he met eleven more Indians but as he knew some of them they gave no trouble. The following evening he arrived home almost exhausted.

While on the Muddy he had another experience with the Indians. The red men had committed a number of depredations that the white settlers had let pass rather than have trouble. When, however, one of their best milk cows was stolen they decided to take action and demanded payment. To which the Indians replied haughtily, "We will fight first."

The call to arms was sounded and during the night while the white men were gathering, the Indians were holding a powwow and war dance on a nearby hill. Early the next morning all the men gathered at Bishop Leavitt's to organize. Part of them were stationed at the corral to guard the horses. Among these were Henry Blackburn, Henry Esplin, Thomas Chamberlain and Lon Esplin. Those stationed to guard the houses and also to meet in council with the Indians were Andrew H. Gibbons and his son, Billy, Healy Pratt, a little man named Stratton, Bill Swapp, Delaun M. Cox, and others. There were about twenty-three white men and seventy-five Indians.

The Indians came down a few at a time. Only a few of them met in the council, the rest of them concealing themselves in the nearby bushes. Finally their big chief, Frank, put in his appearance. Andrew Gibbons, the interpreter, stood on a wagon tongue and began to talk peace to the red men. It looked for a while as if he might gain a peaceful settlement when a young buck, probably fearing this might be the case, began twanging his bow string, This appeared to be all that was needed to arouse the fighting spirit of the Indians for the chief sprang to his feed and shouted, "No sir, we will fight first."

"Form in line, boys," commanded Gibbons quickly, "but don't fire until the order is given and then go to it."

"I wish I had my gun instead of my pistol," said Stratton. Delaun began spotting an Indian to unload his gun on.

"All right, boys, put your guns against the house," was the order of the interpreter, thinking this show of force might prevail upon the Indians to listen to further proposals of peace.

Hardly had they complied with the order when Healy Pratt shouted, "They're surrounding us, boys. They're going to stampede the horses."

There was no wait for orders this time. Five men, Bill Swap in the lead, grabbed their guns and rushed toward the corral.

"Don't shoot, boys," shouted Gibbons for an old Indian began shouting, "Hole on, hole on," at the same time Frank, the chief, began waving his blanket. Luckily the Indians gave in in time and bloodshed was averted.

Delaun Falls in Love

Delaun should have known better than to say of a certain young lady, "What a homely overgrown girl she is," for many a man has married the woman about whom he has made such a remark. If marrying were all it might not be so bad, but very often a person making such a remark has to face it later - often about the time things pertaining to marriage get serious.

Delaun's biography does not say what made him change his mind, but from experience I would say that was either the fact that said girl refused to have anything to do with him or else she was very popular with other fellows. (Nothing will make a lady more desirable than the mere knowledge that someone else wants her.)

It happened that the young lady in question, Charlotte Kelsey, visited often at the home of Delaun's brother, Almer. For the first few times Delaun met her there it was by accident, but soon it began to happen on purpose as far as he was concerned. And when beauty took the place of homeliness in his eyes he got interested indeed.

When the young lady first arrived in town she was taken in custody for a date by a man considerably her senior. This of course kept the village gossips talking about a "girl of her age going with a man old enough to be her father." This hurt the lady's feelings terribly so that when Delaun asked her one night if he might take her home she replied, "I don't feel as if I care to go with anyone." He at least knew enough about women to not take them at their word and they went home together. This was followed by many like occurrences during the winter. In the spring the settlement in which they lived was abandoned and two new ones made. Her folks lived in one and his in the other, but the three short miles meant little to a young man as much in love and the young man determined to keep up his visits. On the second one, however, he found she had gone back to her old home.

They kept up as regular correspondence as the irregular mails permitted. When conference was held in St. George, Delaun felt a sudden desire to be in attendance- knowing that Charlotte would be only thirty miles from there (if she did not come to conference.) So the young lover put his saddle in the wagon resolved not to miss seeing her as long as nothing but miles separated them.

Luck was with him in one way for she was at conference, but he discovered to his surprise and dismay that she had apparently outgrown her desire for his company. She even seemed to avoid him. But nothing daunted he got as near as possible in the evening meeting, but of course he kept his eye on the speaker and heard all that was said. (Just like any love sick man would do.)

After the meeting, to prove he had IT bad, he asked if he might accompany her home, right before a large crowd. She consented, but was rather quiet and reserved. When he asked for an explanation she said she was so young she would rather keep her liberty for a while. "All right," he answered, "but if you ever change your mind please write and let me know." Delaun says the following year of his life was the loneliest he ever knew and when his father moved to Long Valley, nearly a hundred miles away from her, he felt lonelier than ever.

Finally he was rewarded, for a fellow, who stopped at the Kelsey ranch, was given a letter for him that caused him to begin to hunt an excuse to make a trip there. It happened that there was a cotton mill at Washington where one might exchange wood for clothes. Delaun decided that cloth was what they needed and finally persuaded his father likewise, so he took two teams and a younger brother and started for the Kelsey ranch.

He loaded his wood about ten miles from that place and it was nearly sundown when he finished. But love could not be interfered with so he took one of his tired work horses and was soon on the road traveling at a rate that soon promised relief from the loneliness for him, but hard times for the horse. He must have found it worth while for we next find him arranging for a trip to Salt Lake on which he took Charlotte, her mother and baby brother. It was over 300 miles but he says the trip was in no way tedious. They stopped at Fairview to visit Delaun's mother and while there took a stroll. Evidently the moonlight got the better of him for he confesses he suggested it was time for their first kiss. But he does not say whether she agreed with him or not.

Married Life

After his marriage Delaun and wife made their home in Washington (about 6 miles from St. George) for about four years. Charlotte's mother resided in St. George during this time, so eventually they decided to visit her for a few days. This could not mean it was the only time they visited her during those four years, but this time is evidently the only one worthy of mention.

Delaun evidently wanted to create as good an impression as possible with her folks for he resolved to go in real style. To this end he spent some time polishing the harness till it shone like new. He borrowed a neighbor's buggy and cleaned it likewise, then, loading in the wife and baby, he started on his way. On second thought, I think one reason for Delaun's desire to go in style was the desire to show off his first born child, a girl who had not as yet been viewed by her grand-parent. Everyone knows how a first born child is IT, especially with the father and mother. If you doubt my word just fail to properly express appreciation of some of relatives' first born child.)

To show their style off sooner, together with their desire to go through the green fields, they decided to cut off some distance. But before they had gone far they came to a mud hole about a rod wide. It was either go through it or else go back quite a way and take the longer way. Rather than be delayed they took a chance. But the horses mired up to their shoulders before they hardly got started, so Delaun had to unhook the tugs, and going around to the other side, managed to get the horses out. He then tied a rope to the end of the buggy tongue and pulled it through. But, alas, all his handiwork or so called style was covered with a sticky white mineral clay.

"I guess we'll go in style all right," volunteered the wife.

"Yes sir," resolved Delaun at this. "We'll go in style yet." So when he reached the Virgin river, he pulled off shoes and stockings, and stopping in the river he gave the horses, buggy and harness a real cleaning. So they went in style after all.

The next few years may be passed rapidly over. The Cox family made their home in Orderville most of the time and eleven of their thirteen children were born there. (That is by his first wife.) In 1877 he married a second wife, Susan Brown, by whom he had nine children, all of whom are still living.

Polygamy Problems, in Orderville

During the polygamy days when the marshals were hunting the men with more than one wife Delaun had a time of it. Someone had to stand guard all the time and as soon as a marshal was seen a signal was given and the men hid out. Delaun moved his wife Susan into Arizona and later into Sanpete County.

The following is an example of these times. Two of Delaun's daughters, Charlotte and Maggie, (now Charlotte Heaton of Kanab and Maggie Heaton of Moccasin) had been left at home to care for things while their mother was down at the mill. Imagine their fear when they saw a marshal from the window. Charlotte who was the oldest said, "If that man comes in here don't you say a word. Let me do the talking." As they turned from the window imagine their surprise and fear to find themselves face to face with a United States marshal who had silently entered the house..

"Where is your mother?" asked the marshal.

"She's gone away," replied Charlotte instantly.

"No, she is down at the mill," said Maggie.

"Where is your father?"

Again Charlotte said he had gone away but Maggie instantly corrected her with, "No, he's down at the cove."

"Whose baby is this on the bed?" was the next question.

"One of the neighbors," answered Charlotte, only to be again corrected by the innocent youngster, who insisted that it belonged to Ma.

While the marshal was returning to the buggy he had come in, Charlotte ran across to the mill to warn her mother. She was told that her mother was already hidden in the willows. Maggie had been left with the baby but curiosity got the best of her so she followed her sister.

As the buggy turned the corner and came into view Maggie spied her mother in the willows and called to her. At this Charlotte dragged her into the mill in a vain endeavor to keep her from telling the marshal more.

"Where's the miller?" asked the marshal, coming in the door.

"There isn't any," insisted Charlotte.

She's in the willows by the big ditch," again insisted Maggie.

"Where is the Cove?" was the next question, and again Maggie obliged him by showing him the direction, and he drove off. Then came the rebuke which Maggie has never forgotten. "Now they will get Pa and put him in prison because you told them about him and Ma."

But the guard had done his work well, and none of them were located and the marshal returned without seeing a man or woman

Now back to the other story

In his boyhood Delaun herded his father's sheep. At 11 years he cradled wheat alongside his father. At 16 he stood guard in Black Hawk War, for which he received a pension from the government in later life. With most of this he helped his children, each about the same amount and at a time when they most needed it.

In 1866 his father was called with other saints to settle on the Muddy in Nevada. While here he assisted with farm work with the grain, cotton and cane, and started an orchard and vineyard. He went to school most of one quarter. He made several thousand adobes and built 4 adobe houses.

He played the fiddle for most of the dances in Overton, St. Joseph and St. Thomas. Here he met his first lady love, Charlotte Kelsey. They were married in the Endowment House in Salt Lake City, 19 June 1871. She was the daughter of Easton Kelsey and Abigail Finch. She was a large woman, efficient in her work in both house and garden, cooking meals, making clothes and taught her bunch of girls the same thrifty habits. To this couple was born 13 children, 9 of them living to maturity.

They lived in Washington, Washington Co., Utah about 3 years, where he farmed, built houses and carpentered. He lived in the United Order which President Brigham Young set up to test the people, 2 years in Washington and 9 years in Orderville. He was called in the latter to be foreman of the Building and Cooper Departments which lasted most of the time, the Blacksmith Department following. He was on the Board of Directors part of the time, led the choir and played bass viol along with the choir. From his diary the following accomplishments are recorded: “Desks and benches for schoolroom; molasses barrels, bass viol and box; machine for crimping washboards; coffins; waterpower to run turning lath, grinding of cornmeal (later wheat}, plaster paris for white-washing, apples for cider, potatoes for starch. Run circle saw and grindstone. Built a shingle mill; built flumes and penstalk; repaired an old cotton gin and baled cotton in Washington while living in Orderville; cart to draw bread from bakery to kitchen; whitewash brushes from oose, and lots of wagon wheels, one for President Young’s carriage; made a silk reel and weaving machine, tables, tubs, brooms; folding doors for meeting house.“

At the family reunion in 1930 in Orderville, a long table extended across the stage held more than a hundred things gathered up among the people, that Delaun Cox had made. His cupboards would match any cabinet work today in strength and beauty.

He improved every opportunity for storing his mind with useful knowledge. A number of times he attended evening schools. He records in his diary that he studied the life of Andrew Jackson and lectured on the same for one hour and fifty minutes. Thomas Chamberlain relates in his diary of hearing Delaun Cox give this talk and said it was given very interestingly. He also read Gunn's works on health.

He had been taught the law of plural marriage as given by the Prophet Joseph Smith and, encouraged by Brigham Young, as well as those in authority where he resided; with the sanction of his wife Charlotte, after acquaintance with a little “brown eyed Susan” he took her on an excursion to the St. George Temple where they were married 8 August 1877.

Her name was Susan Brown, daughter of Robert Brown and Eunice Pectol, who had been among the first called to settle in Dixie. She was born in a tent in St. George 18 April, 1862. When 2 weeks old the tent got on fire, but the infant was rescued by a neighbor. Through this marriage there were 9 children, 3 of them born in the United Order.

She went to school a few short years. Her main reader was the Bible. As soon as she was old enough she helped in the kitchen. When setting tables the girls would gather wild roses from the river's edge, which first drew Laun's attention to her.

Susan was not a public woman but her children loved to hear her sing the hymns and old time songs and read aloud from the Juvenile Instructor. Her teaching of obedience was mostly accomplished through other means than whipping. Usually by quoting Scripture verses and those of great writers handed down, she steered her children onward. She would often quote, “Obedience is the first law of order" and “Order is the first law of heaven.” If they did not know which path to take she would say, “Shun even the appearance of evil.”

The people in the United Order seemed to enjoy working together, and called it the happiest part of their lives, experiencing similar to what a missionary does who sacrifices all his time and means. It was cheaper to cook and eat together in one big kitchen and dining hall until things got going. Later they began getting better homes where each family did their own cooking. The order was dissolved about 1884.

Delaun continued to do carpenter work and blacksmithing along with farming. Money was scarce, but he said “Labor was sweet.” The children all learned to work and help out with the expenses .They all got through the grade schools and most of them with 2 or more years of high school. Trading of products was used quite extensively. Honey, brooms and wheat brought in most of the cash. One year he produced 1700 gallons of honey. He was a pioneer in dry farming. For this he received a free ticket to a Dry Farming Congress held in Butte, Montana.

The two families (all but 4 were married with homes of their own) in 1913 moved from Orderville to Hinkley, Utah, then to Idaho in July, 1930. He called his family together for 3 days of reunion with 125 posterity. In preparation for this he met with 5 of his daughters to get his history written up. It was put over in the form of a pageant. From this history arranged by Elvira, Charlotte, Maggie and Susie, also from his diary, written in several different, books, envelopes, scraps of paper, which Eunice so faithfully put together and made into a complete history, this brief has been obtained.

His remaining years were spent visiting his children and back to his home in Manti, the town of his birth, where he died 24 April 1932.

In 1949, out of his posterity, had come 22 missionaries, also bishops and counselors, Presidents of Stakes, and many active L. D. S. Church workers, and many who have been loyal to their nation’s call.

He lived within the law and his character was beyond reproach. He lived free from debt most of his life. “He had a congenial, happy disposition, and his conversations and sermons were interspaced with frequent bits of humor. He honored the Sabbath Day, and was inoffensive, generous, cheerful and jolly. One of his little granddaughters said he looked like Santa Claus, he was jolly like Santa Claus, he was good like Santa Claus, he is Santa Claus.”

He had family prayers and encouraged scripture reading and the singing of hymns in each of the two homes. He discouraged gossip and fault finding, was honest in his dealings, deliberate in his views, patriotic to his country, and faithful to his family and his God.