All Night Dancing
In early days we sometimes danced all night.
On one such occasion, it was the 5th of July, 1873, just 5 days before the illness of which I have just spoken. My brother Hyrum and Bent Larsen had just returned from Salt Lake where they had been married in the Endowment House. The boys gave a public wedding dance in the log school house in the old fort. The house was filled to its capacity. The dance continued from early evening until daylight, except for an intermission for 11 to 12 o’clock. During that period the invited guests were being served wedding feasts at the Washburn and Larsen homes. The only way that I could get a rest during the dance period was to run outside until the floor was filled with dancers. As a result I went home after daylight, so hoarse I could not speak a loud word, and I remained so until the 21 July when I became so ill.
[Page 30] In September, 1875, I came with my sister Huetta and her family to Utah County to dry fruit. We had been there during the autumn of 1874 for the same purpose. On the evening of October 17, 1875, I became engaged to a very adorable young man, whom other people said was as fine a man as the sun ever shone upon. He was nineteen and I scarcely 16 years of age. He wanted me to marry him immediately, but I felt that I was entirely too young to become a wife and mother. I went back home to Monroe, and later to Manti to take care of my sister Philena during a sick spell. I neglected to write. He wrote several letters while I was in Manti, they were not forwarded to me. And when I returned and read them, the last one was not to my liking. As he was quite impatient because he had had no word from me for a few weeks, he believed I no longer cared for him, so he said that he had loved, he now loved, but if it was necessary he could love again. I wrote a hasty letter not explaining the cause of my absence, and told him if he wanted to love another girl, he was perfectly welcome to do so.
In a few months I heard that he was ill and oh how I prayed for recovery, but was too proud and independent to write him a note. And I dared not tell my feelings to a living soul. The blue sky and birds helped me keep my secrets.
Before a year had passed my young man married another girl.
I believed that there were several people in the world that a person could love, and I was young and life all before me.
I had lots of fine associations with the young people of our town.
When the M. I. A. was organized in Monroe in 1877 I was chosen assistant and corresponding secretary.
I wrote a number of articles among them some poems, to the Woman’s Exponant. My articles were all published very soon, which of course pleased me.
In 1878 I was chosen President of the YLMIA and Dennison E. Harris was president of the Young Men’s Association. I was president of that organization for almost 10 years. During that period nearly every girl in our town was an active member, and we loved each other. They seemed like my own relatives.
When I was 15 years old, our bishop Harris and his wife invited father and mother to their home and told them that they had decided if it was possible to get my parents’ and my consent, they were both very [Page 31] anxious that I should marry the bishop. The family was an extremely fine family and my parents gave their consent. They were to arrange a time when the bishop could meet me. When they told me about it, I told my parents I was too young to marry, and although the bishop was one of the finest men in the land, he was old enough to be my father, and that either of his 3 fine older sons were much more desirable for a husband than their father. My father said, “I am afraid you will some day be sorry for turning down such a fine man.”
When father told the bishop that I did not feel inclined to marry him, he said, “I love that girl dearly, and will never give her up as long as she is single.” In the years which followed the bishop often called at our home, and as he sat there having a nice chat with father, he often told incidents in his own life, and incidents in the lives of his aquaintances. Sarah, his wife, was in delicate health, but she kept the house spic and span. I suppose the boys helped her with the house work, and finally she was very ill. I called one evening to see how she was, and found that the boys were very tired from sitting up nights, and from their great anxiety about their dear mother. She had been administered to by the elders several times, and they had exercised their faith, and felt that the Lord would surely hear their prayers. But their mother was constantly growing weaker, and the boys' faith was being sorely tried. I told the boys that I would sit up that night if they would like me to. They were glad to have me stay. Late in the evening the bishop said we are all very tired and weary, and there is no need of us all setting up. A part of us had better get some sleep. I told them to all lie down and rest, and I would sit there and wait on their mother and give the medicine according to the bishop's directions.
They consented and said we will lie down if you will not be too lonesome. I assured them that I would not.
Sister Harris slept most of the time while I sat there, she spoke to me a few times, and I gave her the medicine, and tried to arrange her pillow more comfortably and do whatever she asked me to do, which however was not very much. Finally toward morning Hyrum awoke and insisted that I lie down a while. I did lie down and had slept awhile when he came and told me they believed his mother was dying, that she hadn't spoken since I laid down. I sat or stood around with the family until after daylight. The boys were heart broken. They had always felt that although their mother was delicate that she would be able to live for years to come. After daylight I told them I would go home and send my parents over, as they would do much more good than I possibly could. That morning a fine splendid soul passed on. She had been a careful saving woman. Some of her old neighbors told me she had always had plenty of fine linens, enough to last a lifetime, and such [Page 32] things were scarce with most people in those days. Although my mother and many other pioneer women had brought many fine little treasures to this mountain wilderness because of their refinement and love of the beautiful, I remember several fine silk aprons which my mother had, and which she wore just on occasions, and her fine straw bonnet which had cost 15 dollars when new, and her fine embroidered linen cape and other things which were carefully cared for as the years rolled on.
Some time after Sister Harris's death, the bishop hired a girl for housekeeper, Mary Powell. The young people often gathered at the Harris home on Sunday afternoons and sometimes in the evenings. I remember one evening after a dance Martin said let's go to our house and sit a while. So he and I, Mary Powell and Nephi Foreman went there and sat until morning. The boys sang almost constantly, once in a while the bishop would call from his bedroom upstairs, saying isn't it time to go home. Martin would say “Yes, Dad, we are going soon,” but the day dawned and the boys were still singing.
The bishop was a very agreeable and tolerant man and kind to his children, and in fact to everybody. There was a few rough boys in town when he became bishop, but he and Thomas Cooper his councilor, by their fine management, persuaded those boys to adopt a finer method of living. As a result sometimes people from other places said we had the cleanest lot of boys they had seen anywhere.
As the years passed there were lots of fine things which came into our lives. Denny Harris went to Provo to the B. Y. Academy and came home as our teacher. All of the large boys and girls were pupils, and we had some very interesting times.
One evening after a Sunday School officers meeting bishop Harris came to our house and wanted me to go with him to a dancing party. He tried hard to persuade me to go, and my mother and Maria Gregerson, my brother Parley's girl, said, “Please, oh do go.” Well I finally said to Maria, “If you will go too all right.” We were both ready in a very short time. And we went with him to the Larsen home where they were already dancing. Just before the dance closed Maria and I went into the back room to get our wraps as we had decided to walk home alone. Just as we had our wraps on in stepped Old Newby and another young man whom Marie was aquainted with and said please let -us walk home with you. We told them the situation, and they said “we are going with you.” We hurriedly walked out just before the closing prayer was offered. The boys took hold of our hands and we ran for two blocks straight up the street, and then walked rapidly [Page 33] the other 3 blocks. And when we crossed the foot bridge just in front of our gate, there stood the bishop. We felt awful and we girls screamed, we were ashamed to meet him. Then we all ran down street and around the block, and came into our house the back way. The Harris family were very loyal to each other, and I fully expected that one of the boys would punish me in some way for running away from their father. At dances when dancing quadrills with either of the boys I was afraid I would be left on the dancing floor without a partner, but it never happened. They were always very fine to me. However one young lady who in some way had been rude to the bishop, and later was walking out with Marten, they came to the center of the public square, the night was dark, and she nearly 5 blocks from home, when Martin said good night, this is to pay you for being unkind to my dad.
My young girlhood passed all too rapidly. I had some obstacles, but many enjoyable experiences. All my time was occupied with something interesting.
The girl school teachers who came to Monroe to teach were my special friends. Celia and Ina Hunt, and Geneva Bean were very close friends and whenever I went to Richfield to conferences they took me to their homes and showed me a good time.
My father was president of the Sevier County Tannery at Glenwood, and his first wife was there keeping house for him. She received a legacy from her father's estate in New York, and asked me to come and keep house for father while she went out to visit her children and give them presents.
In less than a week after I went there, three married men came and asked my father if they could marry me. They were fine men, and father said to each one, yes, if you can get her consent.
They were as follows. Bishop Oldroyd of Glenwood, Hyrum Palmer, and Andrew Hepler who was later our county judge.
Years after this Sister Hepler told me that one day her husband came home from the tannery and asked her if he could marry me. She told him she wanted to see me before she gave her consent, but she had regretted it many times that she did not tell him yes when he asked her.
I felt that things at Glenwood were too lively for me, so I got a neighbor lady. Chariot Beal, to cook for my father and I went home to Monroe. [Page 34]
During the following week there came a letter addressed to father from Orderville, Utah. I had a sister living there, and supposed it was from her, so I opened it, and to my astonishment it read as follows:
Elder Washburn
It is long since I fell in love with your daughter Lorenca. And if you will give her to me, to be my wife, I will devote all my time and talents to her exaltation and mine.
Very humbly yours
I laughed until my sides ached, and said is there no place I can go to be shielded from this bombardment.
I said to the family, if Mr. should have the privilege of spending all his time working for my exaltation and his, what would become of his present wife and 3 children.
Early in 1879 I learned that my young man of earlier days felt that he could never give me up. The following note came.
Though you are far away my dear
I never can forget that bright, bright
Summer dream of ours,
It haunts me strangely yet.
We plighted vows of eternal love,
And sang beneath the stars,
In that glad summer time of old
Beside the orchard bars.
We commenced a new correspondance and in August, 1879, he came to Monroe, and after asking my parents' consent, I went home with him to meet his wife. She was very kind to me, but I could plainly understand that she was sorely tried. He was a merchant, and had plenty of means, but she took off her shoes and went around barefooted. I thought it was to humiliate her husband.
After visiting with friends for a few days I asked him one evening to take me to the depot next morning and I would go to Nephi by train and by stage the rest of the way home.
He called me to his wife's room that evening, and while we sat there, he told his wife that I was the girl he should have married before [Page 35] he married her. And that he had told her that before he married her. She, dear girl, couldn't remember.
Next morning it was a little hard for me to see tears in his eyes all the way to the depot, but I felt that I must not spoil the happiness of his wife.
He kissed me as he left me on the train and said, “God be with you wherever you go. Remember I can never forget.” I wrote the following note back to him:
As we parted dear friend at the depot
And the train bore me away
I could not refrain from weeping
Grief in my heart had full sway
(more)
I found a letter awaiting me when I arrived home, and we corresponded for awhile; then I decided it was no use, so I wrote and said goodby.
After which I received the following:
Two little boats were drifting at sea,
One was for you the other for me.
Silently, softly, they came to the shore,
And taking us in, put out once more.
Gently we glided, side by side,
Tho the wind was high,
And the ocean wide,
What cared we for wind or weather
Life was bright when we were together.
But, after a while we drifted apart,
And I left in that boat with you my heart.
You may never know, what the parting cost,
Nor dream of the wealth, of the love you lost.
Until when all is silent, and still,
We meet in the heaven under the hill.
At the city's gate, on the other shore.
Where we anchor our boats, And sail no more. [Page 36]
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