Annie (Easton) Hood (1874 - 1962)

Born 26 Sep 1874 in Wallacestone, Stirlingshire, Scotland

Ancestors

Wife of Thomas Hood Sr — married 28 Jun 1890 in Almy, Uinta, Wyoming, USA

Descendants

Died 17 Jul 1962 at age 87 in Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah, United States

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ANNIE EASTON HOOD "MY STORY" A Personal History of a Scottish Settler in Wyoming, 1874 - 1962.

Brought to publication by Klem Irad Schneider, Great Grandson

Preface by Klem I. Schneider The text of this book was transcribed from a brown soft cover book I found among my mother’s personal possessions after her death in 2001. How or where she acquired the book, I do not know. The pages are printed on only one side and appear to have been made by photocopying typewritten pages. There is no information provided in the soft cover book about who compiled, printed, or published it. Also, there is no copyright notice.

In the preface on page one, Annie requests, “If this writing should be by anyone, copied or printed, I definitely request that it shall not be added to, changed, or defined in any sense, or word whatsoever…” Therefore, in transcribing the text, I have taken care to assure accuracy. Nothing in the text has been changed including spelling, grammar, punctuation, syntax, and page layout with three exceptions to which I doubt Annie would object. One is the page size has been changed from 8½ x 11 inches to 6 x 9 inches to conform to a better size for a hardbound book. The second change is a change in page numbers to accommodate the change in page size.

The third change involves typographical errors. I am not able to tell the difference between spelling errors committed by the author and typographical errors committed by the typist. Care has been taken not to change spelling errors; however, obvious errors by the typist or, perhaps, those due to oversight by the author have been changed. For example: minuted was changed to minutes; ther to there; whold to whole; withing to within; the the to to the; bagan to began; opem to poem; and others.

The text was reproduced for this book by scanning each page of the soft cover book with a computerized photoscanner and then, with a computer program, converting the images to text that could be worked with on a computer word processing program. The computer made numerous errors in making the conversion; therefore, I edited the whole text, word by word, to correct the computer’s errors. I took care not to change anything from the original text except that which I have already mentioned.

I am the great grandson of Annie Easton Hood.

Annie Easton Hood was born at Wallace Stone, Sterling Shire Scotland, September 26, 1874. My Mother’s name – Janet Witherspoon Easton. Father’s name. Alexander Easton. I was, during my childhood educated in the public school, at Longrigg, Lanark Shire, Scotland, remaining in the same institution of learning from the time of entrance, "four years old" untill graduation from all grades.

We studied eleven months of each year, having four weeks during the month of July for vacation. Upon graduating, I was presented with a Bible. Listed inside the front cover were the subjects for which I stood at the top. Namely – all studies usually taught in grade school, including knitting, plain and fancy, darning, sewing, Bible knowledge, and music in Sol Fah notation. As I remember it now, I seemed to worship the principal of our school, Mr. Masterton. He was by nature a religious man, honest and fair in his decisions, but rigid in his dicipline. Our Principal was a devout Christian, and used to conduct cottage meetings in the homes of the people. In this way, I was in his company a great deal of the time, and learned to become familiar with the scriptures in my childhood. As I think back on conditions in school, as they existed then, I almost have a regret that I was educated, and reared under so much rigidity. At any rate – the Scottish schools produced fine scholars. My teacher used to impress us with this fact, namely – if a pupil can learn to read understandingly, he is in possession of a key to open the door to all other studies. I have proven this to be true.

To look back on my childhood, it all seems like a mystical. beautiful dream. The rain as it fell so softly every summer afternoon. The mosses with its verdant heather, and the foliage of the Scottish blue bells. Growing close to the ground were patches of blue berries on the moors. A man walking among the Scotch Thistles, could be hidden from sight. Fields of daisies, and buttercups were filled with morning dew. On Saturday afternoons children roamed over the moors, making skirts, capes, and hats out of the rushes that grew so tall. We gathered white pebbles from the streams, as we waded barefooted in the water. Also finding four leaved clover in the fields, or sitting under the hedges on the dike, and in the dewey mornings gathering white snails, or trying to catch black snails by the horns when pushed out of the shells they "lived in." I have learned since then that what we thought were horns, were the snails eyes, and of course we never could catch them because instantly they were withdrawn, and covered by the shell. We also collected angle worms from the clay formations found in places. Wild Bramble bushes grew in abundance, producing a plentiousness of fruit. In the early morning we listened to the birds – the lark and the Mavis, singing as they balanced themselves on their wings in the air.

And when the Sabbath day came, we kept it holy. A Scotch tradition is, to reverence that sacred day. The law required that holiness be observed on the Sabbath. The Presbytarian Church was the ruling religion of Scotland – and is today– many other churches also taught their beliefs and creeds.

My Mother was willing that I should attend any or all of the different sects in their worshipping assembles. In this way I learned about different religions. I also memorized and sang numerous beautiful sectarian hymns – which I still enjoy singing. I was now ten years old.

My last year’s accomplishments in the sewing room at school amounted to 175 – one hundred and seventy five hours work. – A man’s dress shirt, with stiff front, and cuffs, back stitched with a sewing needle by hand. One pair of pillowcases, made by hand. One Sampler, with my name embroidered in cross stitching, and bound around the edge with ribbon by hand. One square, ten by ten inches, containing four designs in fancy darning, done by hand. Also one pair of men’s socks, knitted by hand. I used to take the socks home at night to work on them. I could not keep at them for very long at one time, because my hands were almost too small to hold them up. It was then that I learned to turn the heel of a stocking, and close the toe off, to a smooth finish. These were made with two colors of yarn, Purple and White, with the strips running around the legs, and a-cross the top of the foot, while the sole was one solid color. Also the tops of the legs.

I had now finished all the work our grade school had to offer, and was scheduled for my first year in the Academy at Airdrie; but Mother was afraid, on account of my being so young, as I would have to board a railroad train each morning, and again in the evening coming home. Again my teacher offered to give me an advanced year of study under his tutorship. I was the only pupil priveleged to take the work that year. Time went on.

I was now eleven years of age, and we were leaving for America! The Elders of the Mormon church had found my Mother’s family, and brought us the Gospel. An Elder Thompson and George Frazer from Richfield Utah, were the two missionaries who brought us the Gospel message. Two of my brothers accepted the truth at once, without hesitation, Andrew, the Eldest son; and George with his wife and three children. But my Mother could not accept so readily.

I must tell you of an experience I had while very young. We had moved away from the place where I was born. WallaceStone was famous for its gooseberries. Each year a Fair was celebrated at that place. The exhibits were displayed on a slightly elevated area of ground. On the highest point, and slightly to the East, one could view a rock, surrounded by an elaborately designed strong iron fence. This stone had been preserved for an historical purpose, in honor of Sir William Wallace of Scottish military fame. Here is where he stood and directed the Battle of Stirling as it was fought and won by the Scottish army. I was also permitted, when a child to stand on that same spot. My Mother and I were there together. I am sure she visited her old home on that occasion, hoping to meet among the crowd someone she knew and loved.

As children we were taught at home, and in school, to love and revere our nations heroes, with an ever abiding constancy. All my childhood years were lived during, and under the reign of Queen Victoria of Great Britain. Our opening song each morning in school was sung in her honor.

God save our gracious Queen Long live our noble Queen God save the Queen Send her victorious, Happy and glorious Long to reign over us, God save the Queen.

Thy choicest gifts in store On her be pleased to pour Long may she reign.

May she defend our laws, and ever give us cause, To sing with heart and voice, God save the Queen.

This was followed by prayer, next came our study of Bible knowledge, for twenty minutes. Twice each week, in the afternoon we had song practice, which consisted mostly of national, and folk songs: – Oh Rowan Tree — A Wee Bird Cam to Oor Ha’ Door – Bonnie Prince Charlie - Ye Banks and Braes O’Bonnie Doon - 0 Weel May the Boatie Row - Scots Wha Hae Wa Wallace Bled - Bonnie Annie Lawrie - and many other beautiful songs, which are dear to the hearts of the Scottish people.

As I write today my heart swells with joy for having been born in a land of rich Genealogical heritage. What a harvest of souls have been brought into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints, from the British Isles. The Blood of Israel; The Royal family of Great Britain are direct descendants of the House of David.

One of the peculiar features in Great Britain is the established red coat, a uniform, making so remarkable a target to shoot at, and yet they have conquered wherever they have gone. Sometime the secret for this will be unfolded. The Lion and the Unicorn is their ensign. The wisdom and Statesmanship of that nation comes from having so much of the blood of Israel within its confines. I always feel that as long as Britain and America stand together we can never fail. We are affiliated to each other. We even speak the same language.

My native land I love thee, The dearest place on earth. May He who dwells on high, protect, The haven of my birth. A. E. Hood

My Mother and her family lived in a small village in Scotland. It was a cosy homelike place, with its shutters and drapes on the windows. Also a wall press or cupboard to hold odds and ends, and a door which closed even with the wall. The beds were built into the walls, with an open front to each bed. These were beautifully arranged, with ruffled curtains around the openings. Wool mattresses all soft and fluffy, tossed up each morning, made the beds warm and restful. While sheets and pillowslips of genuine linen with coverlets woven in many beautiful designs, also homespun woolen blankets, afforded a bed fit for a king.

On the opposite side of each room was a built in fireplace. In the kitchen, on one side of the fireplace, a solid wall was built, about four feet high, with a smooth finished iron plate on the top which was called the "hob", where the tea kettle sang and steamed away. On the other side an iron oven was built in. The fire burned between these two sides, in an iron grate about two feet above the hearthstone, which protruded out in front of the fire place. Then a shining nickel plated oblong piece of ornamentation called a "Fender" was placed from side to side of the hearthstone, which indeed made the whole arrangement look lovely and inviting; with two large stones called "Jams", and a mantle piece to form a framework. These "Jams" were painted black, also the oven. The opposite side where the tea kettle sang, was pure white. The hearth was of fine sandstone smoothly finished. My Mother kept all these different parts always shining, also the poker and tongs. In the mornings after the boys had gone to work Ma and I browned our toast for breakfast on a wire toaster which we hung on the front of the fire place. In the evenings I often sat on the end of the "Fender" to prepare my school work for the following day. . . .

Each summer it was the custom for the people of the village to have an excursion. On one of these occassions, we visited the town of Alloway, Ayr Shire, Scotland, this being the birth place of the Scottish Poet Robert Burns. As usual I was in the company of my Mother and Brothers. At that time I was about eight years old. However I remember vividly all that happened that day. Somewhere along the line, even before I was eight, there had been built up and impressed within me, a love for the name of Robert Burns. As I approached the place of his birth I felt a sacredness prevading the surroundings as if I were walking on hallowed ground. The summer was at its best, and everywhere I looked it seemed like heaven itself to me. I approached the cottage with awe. I suppose the feeling I had was because of my having spent so much of my childhood in religious SERVICES. People were coming and going. We entered in our turn, and there we viewed everything in its rustic preservation, as it had been over a hundred years before. The heavy table where people had carved their names down through the years, but which had now been prohibited. There was the bed on which he was born, and the fireplace before which he was bathed soon after his birth. Also the rude cradle he had been rocked to sleep in. My young mind sensed the depth of it all.

That day I walked along the banks of the river Doone, and walked across the Brig’ 0’ Doone where "Maggie lost her tail." If you have never read Burn’s Poem "Tam O’Shanter." do please read it, and you will understand what I mean when I say, "Maggie lost her tail." Robert Burns was a Bard, and Poet of great profundity and depth, gifted with aptness and adaptibility. The lyrical quality of his writings are unsurpassed. His verses are rich with precious gems of wisdom. He advocated the Lords own teachings. Mark the following lines:

But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, Its bloom is shed. Or, like the snowfall in the river, Profound A moment white, then melts forever. comparison

Or like the rainbow’s lovely form Evanishing amid the storm, Or like the borealis race That flits e’er you can point its place.

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The people then entered the shell house. This house was finished on the outside with shells, that sparkled brilliantly in the sun. Inside the walls were lined with mirrors. It was the custom at that time, on such occasions to offer to the guests a small glass of Scotch whisky, as a token or gesture of friendship. As the people entered the shell house they were greeted in this manner. The vessel they drank from was a minature barrel, made from hardwood and bound with golden hoops, one stave was longer than the others, by which to hold it. This was called a "Bicker". When I touched my lips to it the taste made me shiver. We then went into the garden of Statues where sat "Tam O’Shanter" and "Sooter Johnie", each holding a mug of "Ale" all chiseled out of stone. They looked real enough to seem alive. We also saw Burn’s sweetheart, Bonnie Mary of Argyle, and many other noted characters in the garden of statues. Sometime I would like to return there and live it all over again. But there is one I would miss – My Mother. The time was now growing late. We walked over to a farm house close bye, and had strawberries, freshly picked from the garden, served with sugar and cream. Soon we were on our way home by train.

I must say too that we visited the "Auld Alloway Kirk" where the "Deil" played his bagpipes. He blew his pipes and girt them skirl "Til roof arid rafters a’ did ‘din." And sure enough after more than a hundred years, there stood the old church without the sign of a roof. It was a day never to be forgotten.

As a child I visited some of the principal cities of Scotland. Edinburgh the Capitol of Scotland, Glasgow only twenty miles from where we lived, and Paisley where the beautiful Paisley shawls are woven, also Slamanon, and Airdrie, close to where my Mother was born. The little village we lived in was named Longrigg, a mining town. My people were miners by trade.

(Note) My Mother: Janet Witherspoon Easton was born in the town of Clarkston near Airdrie. Her Mother’s name was Janet Baff Easton.

Every morning Ma and I ate our breakfast bye the fire-side. She curled my hair in ringlets of gold, and then I was off to school. The quaint old clock was chimeing eight, and I had nearly three fourths of a mile to walk. The home of the mine Superintendent was built of stone. On a smooth space above the front door was carved the date of the year in which the house had been built "1844". As I passed there every morning, also on returning every afternoon, I read that date. It became so imprinted on my mind that even today, in the year 1956, whenever I read the figures ‘l844’ I can still see it above the Superintendents front door, and those memories fill my soul with gladness.

The clock hung well up on the kitchen wall; a round clock with a long swinging pendulum. Two long brass chains attached in some manner to the clock hung close to the wall. On the ends of these chains were two highly polished brass weights. At night one was down, and the other was up. Mother pushed the lowest one up and the other one down. In this way the clock was wound for another twenty four hours. Numerous times I have watched that pendulum swing and tick away the hours. It seemed to me like a living thing. I used to say to myself at the weekend – the clock and I are starting a new week tomorrow. Sometimes it would stop from the dust and smoke setting into its small wheels. Then Mother would oil it with a feather dipped in coal oil. That did the trick, and I imagined my friend the clock seemed happier, ticking away and chiming the hours. There being no small children in our home, I regarded the clock as a companion. On certain days my Mother went out very early to do her shopping. The store was over a mile away. On these occasions I was alone.

I seated my imaginary children on chairs and instructed them how to tell time. Often when having the opportunity of being alone, I would give myself a vigorous workout in singing. Mother never knew about these special practices. A cat or dog was never allowed in our home. I learned to entertain myself and was never lonesome.

As yet, my Brother William Easton, My Mother, and myself had not been baptized. But it was decided we would all come to America together in company with Andrew and George, including his wife and children, Alexander, Annie and Janet. In after years their family numbered sixteen children. I was now eleven years old, and we were preparing to leave our homeland.

It was indeed a hard trial for mother to leave her native land, but day after day passed bye, and she grew somewhat accustomed to the thought of going. It all seemed so vast and terrifying to her. The awful thought of sailing across the Atlantic Ocean in a boat!

Indeed the truth was, that there seemed very little choice as to what she could decide. If she decided to stay, she would be left practically alone. The vessel was dated to leave in June. (1886) That was definite. So she started to sell, or dispose of the many treasures that were dear to her. I kept on going to school up to the time of our leaving. So I was not there to witness her tears. All my life there is one thing I wish we could have brought with us. A pair of black and white dogs she kept in the window. They were eighteen inches high, and had gold chains, with locks around their necks. Traveling such a long distance made it difficult to carry too much luggage. We packed a considerable quantity of fine materials into our chests and boxes. The woven fabrics had to be partly made up, in order to pass the customs inspectors. Several pounds of wool yarn was wound into balls, yards of cloth was cut into lengths, and sewed together. Other wise the duty charged on these articles was higher then one could afford to pay. If it were woolen blankets they could pass if they had been washed.

The day came when we were leaving for America. The village we lived in was composed of two long rows of brick houses. These houses were shingled with heavy slates overlaping each other, with two holes in the end of each slate. Nails were driven through the holes. This made a very secure roofing for a house. Whenever a high wind came, one could hear the slate shingles moving a little, and rattleing slightly. Openings were left between the houses at intervals, making it convenient for people to go around to their gardens. We lived at the extreme lower end of the street, it being somewhat more secluded there. As we passed up the street, all the people came out to say goodbye. (Our leaving is vividly impressed on my mind.) We were intimately acquainted with all of the people, but something had happened. My two brothers had joined the Mormons.

In school we studied the map of Scotland ‘til we knew it any way it was turned. Of course their were maps of other countries in our school room too, which were referred to on certain occasions. This happened when only a few days before my leaving my teacher made an explanation to the children of where Annie was going. He pointed out on the map of America, a small spot about as large as a thumb nail,-- not the city of Salt Lake, but the Lake itself.

When we reached the upper end of the town, I had collected six shillings in money, as gifts from my friends. This money had the purchasing equivalent of six dollars if spent in Scotland. One lady who operated a small store gave me a large dripping pan of home made taffy. Her name was Ann Love. Yes, her husband was living. The people called him "Auld Rabby Love" --- Robert Love.

As we passed the school house, Mr. Masterton allowed the whole school to come out to say goodbye. That was once in my life I could not speak. There they stood all around me in a circle fifteen deep, without me saying a word. The children were then called in. We bade the Principle good bye, and continued on our walk to the station at Longrigg End. There we boarded the train for Liverpool England.

The next thing I remember, was being on the docks at Liverpool. I must have slept on the trip there. Shipload cargoes were being loaded and unloaded. It all looked so amazeing, and wonderful to me. Sea going vessals of all sizes, and descriptions were lined up along the harbor. I had a new rubber ball which I bought along the way. I was throwing it up and catching it. I had wandered away from my folks, just looking around to learn about the place. I threw the ball up on the building. It rolled down and caught in the drain around the edge of the roof. I hated to lose that ball. I had paid so much for it -- a whole sixpence -- twelve cents. I would surely have attempted to recover it, but just then I heard a voice reporting that our ship was sailing into the harbor. What a thrill it was to see that old ship, in all the magesty it could muster, sail in. The gang plank was lowered to the dock, and the passengers began to go aboard. The name of the vessel was -- "The Old Nevada" of the "Gion Line". One thousand passengers were on board when we left Liverpool, England.

There were many people aboard from Scandinavia, Scotland, England and Ireland. Also Catholics and Jews. As the ship moved out of the harbor, the Mormons assembled on deck and sang together:

Oh Babylon, oh Babylon, we bid thee fair well We’re going to the mountains of Ephriam to dwell.

We were strangers to each other, but the bonds of the Gospel made us one. We sang with all our hearts and souls, and thanked the Lord for bringing to us the truth. My Mother was weeping, but being a child I didn’t understand. And so we sailed away from the home of our nativity to dwell in a new land among God’s chosen people, --- in the month of June 1886.

Our first stop was Dublin Ireland. I have often heard it spoken of as "Erin’s Isle", the greenest and most beautiful spot in that part of the world. Up untill this time, we had been sailing in a comparitively narrow neck of water. Here we dropped anchor and waited for another ship coming toward us from the right side. When close enough, the gang plank was again lowered, to take on passengers. Venders of different wares came aboard our ship, selling all sorts of sweetmeats and fruit. Their time was limited. They made their sales in a hurry and were gone.

Once more the "Old Nevada" moved forward, this time out into the vast ocean. Eventually, there was nothing to be seen but sky and ocean, excepting a few birds which lighted on the ships railing for the first three days. After that they too were gone. By this time many of the passengers were afflicted with sea sickness, and confined to their rooms. Suddenly a rumor was started: A Whale! A Whale! At once almost everyone who could stagger was up, and out on deck. There was a lot of excitement but no whale. The doctor’s had succeeded in getting most of the sick people up on deck. The rooms were then ventilated and put in order. Some were sick during the entire voyage.

I enjoyed the trip, and was entertained studying the people. Mother had brought with her a plum pudding, cooked in a small bucket with a close lid. Also some smoked herring. We still had the taffy that "Ann Love" had given me. Also the oranges we bought at Dublin Ireland. These tasted good after we had overcome our sea sickness.

Once the sailors hoisted the ships sails; Heave ho – Heave ho -- all together with accuracy, and the sails began to rise. Other sailors were up in the ships rigging, swinging and moving about as agile as monkeys. -- On the fifth day when the people were up on deck sunning themselves, a slight commotion occured.

In passing, my brother George asked a ships officer what was wrong. The officer answered -- There’s a vessel on the Star board bow Sir. And sure enough, coming up what seemed to be a mountain of water was a ship. We watched it as it steamed along. They hoisted their flag, and we hoisted ours. She passed us, and was soon only a speck in the distance. "The City of Rome" was on her way to America. This incident was indeed sensational to me, and also to my Brother George. It had thrilled him to have the Ships officer answer him as he did. (For many years, whenever something exciting happened in George’s home, and someone asking what was wrong, he would instantly reply: -- There’s a vessel on the Star Board Bow Sir: exactly as the officer had said it. It never failed to amuse his family.)

In the evenings I loved to watch the sun sink into the sea, also to view the moon as it arose over the sea. It was on the Atlantic Ocean I first saw and heard people of the Catholic faith worship. They knelt on the deck. Each person held a rosary, and repeated a prayer after the man in charge, speaking the words three times as they counted the beads. It was Sunday morning, and I noticed a man standing close to the life boat worshiping; bound on his forehead with a strap was a small block of wood, black in color. Another block was fastened to his wrist. In his hand he held a book which was open, seemingly a bible of pocketsize, or perhaps a prayer book. I watched him for some time, but he did not move. He may have been a dignitary of the church to which he belonged, as I noticed that he wore a dark ulster or gown. Both of these forms of worship I observed with reverence.

At a certain time each day, two thirds of the space on deck was reserved for first class passengers. Some sat in the open air under awnings, wrapped in blankets. Others paraded the deck. Ladies pushed perambulators airing their babies in the fresh sea breeze. All sorts of quiet games were indulged in; such as cards, dominoes, or checkers. The children were allowed to skip rope. The accomidations were passable, and dining room service good. The voyage was pleasant. We crossed the Ocean in seven days.

One morning Ma was awakened by a deep thuding noise. She was alarmed and was sure something had gone wrong. She jumped out of bed and dressed hurriedly. A man was scrubbing tables. She rushed up to him and said: This is an awful morning. Whatever is the matter? He looked at her bewildered and said: Lady! I have sailed the seas for seventeen years and have never experienced anything so fine as this. He then told her the cause of the noise she had heard. The pumps in the ship were hoisting water. The next day she told my brother Andrew about it, and he said: You weren’t going anywhere were you Mother? You wasn’t thinking of leaving?

Three days later we began to sight small portions of land. The seapigs had come out to meet us, and were swimming alongside our ship. They had come to be fed. The children had discovered a barrel of hard sea biscuits below deck, so we ran down, and filled our aprons, and then entertained our selves feeding the fish. Soon we were sailing down the Hudson river. The inspectors were now busy examining the luggage and collecting taxes. Off in the distance stood the "Goddes, or Statue of Liberty" in pure white.

Again our ship was anchored. A flat boat with two decks, upper and lower, sailed alongside. The people were transferred to the lower deck, and the luggage to the upper deck. After which we sailed a short distance, landing at Castle gardens New York where we were disembarked. The building we walked into was an immense structure, with open sides, the roof being completely covered over. This was divided into sections with picket fences. People going to different parts of America were assigned to their own division. Many remained here over night, -- including ourselves. Refreshment stands or small stores were scattered throughout the building. One might buy almost anything in the way of food. The place was electrically lighted. We loitered about for several hours. During that time, my people found an exchange office, where they exchanged English money for American money, making a gain of four cents on each dollar.

When night came, most of the emigrants slept on the floor of the open building. Those arriving in New York City for the first time did not go out to find sleeping quarters. Next morning we again embarked on a small steam boat headed for the docks at New Jersey. It was here that we seperated. George and his family, also Andrew bound for Richfield, Utah, while Mother, and William, and I went to Sufferin Ville, Grundy County Illinois. Two brothers, Alex and Jim, "Alexander and James" joined us there. These two brothers had been employed over in Pennsylvania, but we had arranged by correspondence to meet them in Illinois. Mother and William and I arrived at Braidwood, that being the closest railroad station adjacent to the main line and to our destination. From there we traveled by team, and buggy four miles to the town of Sufferin Ville.

Several people from home were located there. Because of this we did not feel so entirely alone. We associated together at times in our homes. Two of these families were named Montgomery, one family named Galloway, and a young man Alex McPhee.

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The community seemed altogether different to us, many nationalities were collected together there, such as Bohemians, Italians, Dutch, Americans born in the United States, Scotch, Irish, and others. Each following after the customs of their own home land. They were making a living, mainly by mining, and industry from which men received good wages. Most of those people had a side line, apart from their main occupation. Such as raising ducks, geese, chickens, turkeys, and gardens. These different industries contributed greatly to their living. Some had a cow or two. The country around consisted of many acres of open prarie, on which the cows pastured free of charge. This land was owned by the mine operators -- Sam and Andy Sufferin -- .

The climate was indeed desirable, each year having only three months of winter, and that not at all severe. The climate and also the soil were equally productive. Orchards grew on the farms in every direction. Choice apples sold at twentyfive cents per bushel. Also Cherry trees, with fruit in abundance. Fields of corn stretched away, as far as the eye could see. A magnificient open level country, and between the rows of corn, grew thousands of tons of melons and squash. Every vegetable one might mention was grown in the people’s gardens. Long rows of tomatoes, green in the morning, were luscious and ripe in the evening.

In place of quilts and blankets, those who raised ducks and geese slept between feather beds. The feathers were plucked from the live geese. The nearest running stream was the Ma-son river four miles away. There was no irrigation on farms, in that part of the country. Everything planted depended on rains and cultivation. Water in wells could be found at a depth of ten feet below the surface of the ground. The water from these shallow wells was not satisfying to a thirsty person. Beer drinking sometimes became a habit when indulged in. A gallon of beer could be bought for 25 cents, together with a generous quantity of ice. The Atmospheric heat in the summer lasted all day, and on into the night.

Sometimes the orders for coal at the mines would get filled up, thus causing an idle day to occur. During these lulls in work the Italian people of the community, without any special preparation, would gather out on the prarie, for an enjoyable afternoon, with perhaps a few musical instruments. In a short time every one was participating in danceing, and singing. It was really delightful to hear them. There were always among them a few fellows dressed in true Italian style. These were men who had come recently to America. Their attire and appearance were indeed picturesque. For hours they sang their own national airs and Folk songs. The harmony was "out of this world" with the whole company singing. . . .

Soon after our marriage my husband applied for, and was granted his Citizenship papers. The date was September 1st 1890. ( I was sixteen that month). He had turned twenty-two in March of that year. Wyoming had sometime previous passed from her territorial status to Statehood. It now seemed so wonderful to be living in the State of Wyoming.

When the land in Star Valley was thrown open for homesteading, we were eligable for entry. Notices were published in the papers advising the public to this effect. People from Utah came to look over the situation, also residents of Wyoming. Among these were my Husband Thomas Hood and his brother Peter Hood. They traveled approximately a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. When they reached the valley it was still covered with snow. The unbroken whiteness lay glittering in the March sunshine, stretching away undisturbed, except in a few places. After deciding on a location, they returned home. Needless to say they were favorably impressed with the Valley, its timber, its lofty mountains, its clear streams, its aloofness, its pure air, and freedom from intrusion by enemies.

I was very glad when Tom arrived home again. Only the baby and I had been there while he was away. The following day he went to Evanston (this being the County seat of Uinta County at that time) to make an entry of the land he had mapped out.

For the following three months he continued to work at the mine in order to accumulate some money with which to buy equipment for the trip. As the warmth of spring and summer came, the oats he had planted grew and looked fine. By this time our little home we had worked so hard to finish, and make attractive was beautiful, but we were giving it up to go into a new country, and a new life. However we decided to remain and celebrate the fourth of July with the community of people we knew and loved, before leaving. Several weeks had passed during which time Tom had bought a team of horses, and a harness, also a wagon with bows and a cover, including some tools. We disposed of the chickens, but did not sell our house untill sometime later. All we could take with us was only what a wagon bed could hold. The remainder of our household furnishings, we locked up in the house. Our folks were close bye, and looked after it for us.

Up until now we had both been active in music. Tom’s instrument in the band was the Bass Tuba. In the orchestra he played the violin, and in the Choir he sang either Tenor or Bass. He also conducted the singing in the Red Canyon Sunday School. Before leaving he was presented with a black ebony baton. (Comparitively speaking he was still only a boy). I of course sang soprano. I am so happy to know that I became his wife. We had so much in common. Of all the songs I sang, his favorite was:-- "For all Eternity".

And now we had started on our journey July 1892. I had no idea or mental picture of where we were going. All I knew was that which Tom had volinteered to tell me. In my judgement he was absolutely capable and responsible for this further venture. I was not concerned or worried in the least about it. He had told me of a dream that came to him previous to going down to look the situation over. He found it just as he had seen it in his dream, only that upon the bench in the mouth of swift creek canyon -- A Temple stood there. I truly believe he was permitted to see far into the future. We slept out that night, and traveled slowly during the day time. The journey was somewhat tireing on the baby. Our little boy was now fourteen months old. We kept him under cover, and shaded him from the sun as much as possible. At the end of seven days we arrived in Star Valley. When about five miles up Crow Creek Canyon we saw a sage hen in the brush. Tom stopped the team and stepped off on the ground. I handed him the shot gun, but the chicken hid in the brush and got away. I laid the gun back again on the mattress, which we had placed uppermost on the load. This was to make it convenient for the baby when he went to sleep.

When we came to Crow Creek bridge, we saw a big trout floating on its back close to the bank. Tom leaned down and lifted it out, and then said: This fish is perfectly fresh. Someone must be up the creek blasting fish. He put it into the wagon and we drove on. The valley had a much different appearance than when he had last seen it. He was a little puzzled to locate where the line on our place was. But we drove in the old wagon track, and then off down toward Salt River. The grass was knee deep. The river was up to the edge of its banks. The swales were full. That year the water was higher than it was ever known to be before or since. We drove down on a nice spot to camp for the night. It was now six o’clock in the evening. The sun had not yet set.

Tom unhitched the horses and turned them loose to eat. After the long trip they looked very tired and hungry. He then began to unload the wagon. A wooden tub had become shrunken from the heat. He took it over to the river’s edge and filled it with water. He next removed the stove, placing it on the ground, and fitting it up with two lengths of stove pipe, then rolled up his shirt sleeves so as not to soil them with the soot from the stove. We had gathered a few bits of sticks and brush along the way, expecting to make a fire to cook supper. The next things to be removed was the gun and mattress. When he took hold of the gun the trigger caught on a tuft of leather on the mattress and fired the gun off. I was not alarmed; I thought he was shooting at another sage hen. I was still sitting upon the spring seat with the baby on my lap. It was at least two minutes before he spoke, and then he said: Annie I am shot. I don’t know if I fell from the wagon seat, or how I got to the ground.

There he stood with the flesh of his arm hanging in shreds, from the wrist to the elbow. I was stunned for a few minutes, and then I said: What will I do Tom? He answered, Find something and tie it tight around my wrist and above my elbow. I raised the lid of a trunk and found a white cloth with which I wrapped up his arm as best I could. He then pointed out a small house about half a mile away, and said: Run as fast as you can and ask the man who lives there to come. The color had gone out of his face. I thought he was going to faint, but I ran. When I came to the deep swale of water, I pulled off my shoes and left them on the bank. I plunged through and kept running. My hair was flying in the wind. I was wearing it in a braid, but the ribbon was lost. I met two women, and a wagon load of children. They did not stop or speak to me. I still kept running until I reached the house. The lady informed me that her husband was not at home. (She was a plural wife with two small children who was there in hiding.) She told me to go back to my husband and she would go up to the next place and get the man there to come down. So I started again to run back.

I kept thinking; Oh! if Tom faints and my baby falls into the river, we will never find him. The muscles in my head were so tense, I thought it was going to split open, or that I would drop dead, but I ran and finally got back to him. Tom had called in prayer for assistance, and there stood a man hitching up the team. "John Tollman." He had been riding along the West foothills, and saw the covered wagon down by "Salt River". He turned his horse and rode over there. He loaded the things back into the wagon, and took us to a little one roomed log house. We placed the mattress on a pole bedstead with other bedding and laid my husband down to rest. He was exhausted.

Top

In the meantime John had sent his hired man with a team and buckboard to Afton for help. There was no doctor in Star Valley. They brought a lady by the name of Sister Eggleston. She had with her some of her own home remedies. A salve made from mutton tallow, and a healing powder labeled Iodiform. She sterilized a pair of scissors, and clipped off the shattered flesh. She then heated water and added carbolic acid with which she cleansed the raw wound, through a small syringe. After melting the mutton Tallow in a tin pie plate, a piece of medicated cotton was dipped into it, and applied to the wound. Two splints were then arranged, and the arm bandaged. The nurse then returned to her home in Afton and the others left. My husband, my baby and I were there alone. I placed my baby on the foot of the bed and sat bye the bedside all night. A stranger in a strange land. All night I held his arm up so that he could rest. I found a half burned candle in a cup, which I lighted. This burned out before midnight came, and then I was in the dark, with the door closed. This is how I passed my first night in Star Valley. Read more in the book.

Note

Annie Easton copy

http://trees.ancestry.com/rd?f=image&guid=fcf09bcd-282a-42c5-bc44-12a51af3acb3&tid=48818100&pid=99

ANNIE EASTON HOOD 1874 - 1962

http://trees.ancestry.com/rd?f=image&guid=26cd8683-9cda-409c-8d26-72f74b6e168a&tid=48818100&pid=99

Sources

• Source: S-1600350382 Repository: #R-1690285407 Title: Ancestry Family Trees Publication: Online publication - Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com. Original data: Family Tree files submitted by Ancestry members. Note: This information comes from 1 or more individual Ancestry Family Tree files. This source citation points you to a current version of those files. Note: The owners of these tree files may have removed or changed information since this source citation was created. Page: Ancestry Family Trees Data: Text: http://trees.ancestry.com/pt/AMTCitationRedir.aspx?tid=48818100&pid=99
• Repository: R-1690285407 Name: Ancestry.com Address: http://www.Ancestry.com Note:

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Calle Craig for creating WikiTree profile Easton or Wotherspoon-1 through the import of Craig-Hall Family Tree.ged on Jan 20, 2013.

Click to the Changes page for the details of edits by Calle and others.