Mary Gibbs Bigelow

Mary Gibbs Bigelow           "Mary Gibbs, daughter of Benjamin Gibbs and Adobe Hubbard, was born 26 June 1809 in Lisle Broom County, New York as the second daughter and third child of a family of seven children.           Her earliest recollection was that her father had a grove of maple trees from which he would take the sap and boil it down into sugar.           The next summer, during the warm weather, she went to school. Being very young it seemed a great way through the thick woods which were about a quarter of a mile away. “I went past my grandmother’s place [Anna B. Gibbs], which was on my way to school,” where she would stop. Her grandmother always gave her a piece of bread and butter or a piece of pie. At this school she learned her ABCs.           One day, on her way to school, she climbed a tree. In trying to reach another limb with a stick she fell out and broke her left arm. A doctor had to set her arm. Being in so much pain she cried a great deal. Her father told her if she would not cry anymore he would give her a large lump of sugar. She ceased her crying and only moaned so that she might have the sugar.           She carried her arm in a sling and could not go to school for a long time. When she started school again the wolves were quite bad. She would hear them howl in the night. One time they caught one of the calves and partly ate it. This frightened her and she did not want to go to school. The road was lonely and she had no one to go with her. Her mother wanted her to have an education, so she insisted on her going. Her grandmother was a comfort to her and encouraged her by always having a treat for her.           When she was four years old she began to read in Baker.           The next thing she remembered was her father’s brother-in-law, her Uncle Clark, came to move them on a raft down the Ohio river. Late in the night they arrived at her home.           She next remembered that they went down the river on this same [??] lumber raft to Pittsburgh, about 16 miles below Marietta. On this raft there was a large hole in the middle. Her little cousin, Naomi Clark, a year and a half younger than herself, fell into this hole. Her father caught her by her dress and saved her from drowning. “There was great rejoicing and my aunt wept tears of joy over the safety of her little girl.”           When she was five years old she again attended school. This time there were no woods to go through, which made her very happy. In this place there was plenty of fruit, which consisted of peaches, apples, and plums.           In the spring, when she was seven years old, the Ohio River raised above its banks and her father had to take the family out. He took them to safety to Mr. Priest, who lived on higher ground.           While here at Mr. Priest’s she had four lessons a day: two lessons in reading, two lessons in spelling, and a chapter in the New Testament. She could read much better than her little friend, Hetty Priest, who was her age. Her mother said to her, “Aren’t you glad I made you go to school, for you can read better than Hetty.” They stayed at Mr. Priest’s until the flood went down, then moved back home.           In the fall, her little brother Linns died with bilious fever. He was sick about three weeks. She used to drive the cows to pasture in the morning and go get them at night. When she heard the bars of the fence fall at night, she said, “My dear darling brother is gone and I am left to mourn.” She went to school through the winter, but the loss of her brother saddened her. It was hard to keep her mind on her studies for thinking of him and wishing he were there to go to school with her.           Mary’s father continued to work at his trade of coopering, making barrels at $1.25 a barrel. Then they moved to Lawrence County in the state of Illinois. Here her father bought some land and built a log cabin. He worked at his trade to pay for the land.           “We had no well. When the water froze up in winter, we melted snow for home use and drove our stock a long way to a creek for water, about a mile or a mile and a half away. We had a yoke of cattle, a cow and a calf. The ice in the creek was frozen so hard it was difficult to break, so Father got Brother Hardisty of the Baptist persuasion to come and find water. Mr. Hardisty took a hazel forked stick in his hands, and walking along the stick turned. He told Father that he must dig there and we would find water at twenty feet deep. Eight feet would be through rock. Father dug in that spot and found water. Eight feet of rock was a wall to the well, which is still in use on the old homestead.           “My grandfather, Benjamin Gibbs, was brought to stay with my father. He came from New York State to the state of Illinois. He was an old man. I remember his bald head encircled with a fringe of white hair. He had the rheumatism and I had to wait on him.           “My father and mother were born in Connecticut. Grandpa and Grandma I think were born in Litchfield, Connecticut. Grandpa was six feet high in his bare feet and was a strong, robust man. He was in the Revolutionary War. He was drafted for three years and enlisted four years.           “My grandfather’s brother had a fight with a wild, wounded deer, which stamped and hooked him as long as he stirred. To save his life he lay still until the deer left him, supposing he was dead, and went out of sight. This my grandfather told me.           “My grandfather died on 10 March when I was ten years old.           “My father continued to work at his trade. I worked in the garden and raised cotton. This we ginned by a hand gin. Mother and I carded and spun it. When at length we wanted weaving done, Mother went to a neighbor’s about four miles away from home. There she wove a piece, to get a chance to get ours woven, and then wove hers. She left me at eleven years old to keep house, take care of my sister and brother, and water the stock.           “In the spring before I was ten years old, my little youngest brother was born. I felt then I was well paid. I was paid for waiting so long as I had the privilege of naming him Daniel, after the prophet of old. He was so good that I was no more lonesome for my dead brother.           “My mother went away for four weeks at one time to this Sister Baptist’s and then came home for a short visit to me and then went away to weave again. I had to do all, taking care of my brother, a year and a half old; watering the stock all winter, for Father did no chores; and cooking breakfast before daylight and dinner at twelve. I cooked cornbread in a skillet by the fire and boiled venison and potatoes for dinner, Father built the fire in the morning before I was up. He had his shop in one part of the log cabin where there was no floor.           “My father had prayers regularly. He would read a chapter in the Bible and would attend prayers morning and evening. I dipped the tallow candles and the wick, used to go to meetings in the summer, four miles away, once a month. Every other month we had Baptist meetings at Uncle Clark’s. All were very zealous and kept the Sabbath, doing no work unless necessary. I was two days washing. My uncle’s folks lived three quarters of a mile away.           “Sometimes my aunt, Anne Clark, came up and encouraged me, telling me I was doing well. Next summer we went on with our garden. I was twelve. My sister helped me. Father bought two cows and Mother made cheese. We had wild plums and crabapples. Father bought honey. We made preserves, a keg full of each.           “When I was thirteen, Nahum Bigelow, my future husband, came to see us and I got acquainted with him. He was thirty-seven. My parents sent me to school. Nahum took me on a horse behind him and went that day to a village school in another county. I was away three months to this school.           “I boarded with Brother Levi Joy, the schoolteacher and his wife. I paid my board by spinning nights and mornings to make three day’s work. She was a Methodist and he was a Baptist. He had a son named Jesse. In the spring my father came and took me home. I was happy to go home and see my folks again.           “The summer that I was fifteen I was taken sick with the chills and fever, whooping cough and scarlet fever. I couldn’t do much. Father took the whooping cough the second time, having had it when he was a boy of sixteen. This was the first spell of sickness since I had the long siege of bilious fever in Ohio. Nahum came once a month to visit us.           “The next summer a woman from the eastern states came preaching repentance. She had been a Baptist but she left her husband and did preach repentance. She was a tall woman who said she was sent of the Lord to preach repentance. She said that the news of the resurrection of the Savior was sent by a woman and so also she was told to preach repentance and nothing else to this people. She was a powerful preacher.           After she went away, a man and his wife came from Kentucky. They had a similar mission to perform, preaching repentance. She was a middle-aged woman, as was the first. She came to visit relatives and preach. She went home and died shortly after, saying her mission was done.           “Nahum continued to visit me from time to time. When I was nearly sixteen, he proffered marriage, asking my parents. He then boarded at Uncle Clark’s and worked at his perpetual-motion machine. He was very ingenious. Uncle Henry Bigelow, his oldest brother, owned some land in Shelby County, joining Lawrence County. Nahum and one of my uncles bought up cattle and drove cattle, but did not make anything by it.           “While my uncle and Nahum were away, I was at home making my wedding dress in the fall. I carded and spun the cotton and my mother and I wove it in an 800 or so reed, very fine. It looked beautiful. I then bleached it a pure white. I made it plain with no flounces. It was woven so that half way to my knees it was corded and raised in diamonds. The cords were picked up with an awl ten threads between every cord. Sister and I raised the cotton and picked it out of the beautiful white balls. I then ginned it in a hand gin, feeding the cotton and turning the handle. I had picked the long, beautiful first-ripe cotton.           “The waist of my wedding dress was plain with a band around it. It had common straight sleeves, just large enough to be comfortable. I had a bonnet ruffle the neck of the dress I was preparing to keep house. I had homemade shoes that my father had made for me.           “We were married in December at my father’s house on a Sabbath day [12 December 1826]. My Uncle Clark, who was a Baptist Elder, married us. Nahum was dressed in homemade blue jean cloth. We had chicken boiled, pot pie, all kinds of wild fruit, crab apple preserves, cheese, butter biscuits, and light bread. There was no dance at any time. It was a good social evening. I retired to bed at the usual time.           “The next day my husband made a log stable for his horses. He had one span of horses and I had a cow and calf given me by my parents. I had a feather bed that I had picked from the geese.           “My uncle moved into Morgan County and lost his second daughter. She took opium and didn’t know, thinking it was a pill. It threw her into fits and killed her. I dreamed a few days before she died that we went to Sunday School and she took up with a beautiful young man. I could not persuade her to come home, but she stayed. I awoke and told Mother of the dream and she said that she was not long for this world.           “At one time, my husband was trimming the limbs off a tree he had cut down. In stooping through the limbs, he caught his foot in one of them, which threw him headlong violently to the ground. In dropping his ax and throwing out his hands to save himself, he fell upon his ax, cutting a deep gash on his left wrist. This severed the main artery to the hand and also the cords of the two little fingers.           “I went and visited my parents every year when my health admitted it. [???] hay, wheat, corn, potatoes, and melons. We had a great many chickens in the fall and laid up 100 pounds of butter. We had a good cold spring house made of logs which was just as cold as ice.           “When Sariah was a baby, the first Mormon Elders visited us: Brother Coombs, Dibbins, and David Gammet. I believed it right and obeyed it in the spring [April 1839]. Sariah was about six weeks old.           “We began to prepare to move to Missouri. Instead of going to Missouri, we made preparations and moved to Nauvoo, as the Saints were driven out of Missouri. We moved to Nauvoo in the fall of 1843. We went to Brother Matthews. Down by the levee we bought land and began to farm. We were all taken sick—a terrible sickness of fever and ague. We lived there through the massacre. I had a son born on the Fourth of July, a week after the Prophet was slain. We called his name Joseph Smith Bigelow. He lived nine months and sixteen days, then died.           “The fall after he was born, at conference time, I was taken very, very sick. All were very sick. We had sickness from the time we lived there until we left. While I was so very sick and was given up by everybody, and was thought to be dying even myself, I sent to the field for my husband to come and put down the dates of the births of my children. He came in haste. Taking the record book, he put down the names and dates of some whose record had not been made.           “Afterward I had a vision. The Savior came to me and told me that I would get well. ‘What about my baby?’ I asked, for he was also very sick. He answered me, ‘Your baby is in my own hands. With it I will do as seemeth me good.’ He then told me again that I would get well, for I had a work to do. Again I asked about my baby and received the same answer. The third time he promised me that I would get well. Again I asked about my baby. Again he gave me the same answer.           “The baby got well and fat. This was in the fall. I got well also. When the baby was so lovable in the spring, it took the water on the brain and died suddenly. The same spirit rested on me as it did when I had the vision. I dedicated him to the Lord and I never shed a tear until I had been to the grave and came home. When we came back into the house Daniel stepped into the house first. Clasping his hands, he said, ‘Oh, my little Daffie is gone, is gone!’ He was too little to speak plain. Whereupon we all burst into tears and lamentations. My sympathy was aroused, although I felt resigned to the will of the Lord, feeling it was all right.           “My little Liola had the black canker, which took his under jaw bone cut and five teeth. I went the same summer to see my parents. Liola died while I was gone. He was so bad that the neighbors came in and sat up with him. They were also there after he died. He had spasms. When I came back I felt lonesome indeed. We had our blessings by President Young.           “The next fall, after the mob commenced to mob and burn houses, we were advised to move into Nauvoo from Camp Creek. We took all the money and everything we could, leaving the corn in the field. We took our cows, our horses, wagon, and oxen and went into Nauvoo. We afterwards gathered corn and squashes.           “We were in Nauvoo at the October Conference held in the temple in 1845. Brother Young spoke that now that the excitement and mobbing was allayed, for the brethren to go back and secure their crops. My husband was not well when we moved back. He had chills. We were among the first that moved back. Being on a public road, the mob noticed us.           “On Monday evening, after dark, a posse of the mob came. They knocked on the door. Father was on the bed with a chill. A man said that he had orders to notify us immediately. Father asked him, leaning on his elbow, [‘By what authority do you order peaceable citizens to leave their homes and lands which they have paid the government for?’]           “‘By orders of the governor and other officers.’           “‘It is not likely,’ Father said, ‘that the governor will be giving orders for peaceable citizens to leave their homes.’           “‘What is your name? Where do you live?’ Father asked.           “He stuttered, ‘I live, live, all over where. I was from Carthage yesterday.’           “Hiram, the next morning, started off to Nauvoo to let President Young and Colonel Markham know of the threats of the mob. While Hiram made the statement about the mob, President Young sat with his head in his hands and then rose up and said, ‘If the mob should come to burn my house, I would defend it to the last. Go home and tell your father to make an affidavit and have it sworn to and then send it to Carthage to Major Warren. He is stationed at Carthage to prevent mob violence, so it is right for your father to send a written statement to him, and if he won’t do anything, come to Nauvoo and you shall have all the help that you need.’ Joseph Young gave a pistol to Hiram and told him to give it to his father to defend himself.           “Hiram came home. Edgar Grimsley, who was his companion, went with him to Carthage. They went across the bottoms nearly fourteen miles to Carthage, staying all night. In the morning they rode into Carthage and got there at about 10:00 a.m.           “He rode up to the courthouse yard and went into the house and asked for Major Warren. He called him out to the back door of the courthouse and handed him the paper. He said, because of court being in session and having sent some troops to Lima, he couldn’t spare any troops, but could spare some the next day. Hiram answered, ‘The next day the mob will have the house burned and leave us without a home.’           “Major Warren next inquired where he lived. Hiram told him, ‘On the road between Laharpe and five miles from Pontusic.’           “Hiram went back to the horses and his companions. He felt very despondent and foreboding and anxious, so he wheeled on his heel and went back to Major Warren and said, ‘The mob will very likely be there tonight. If you could spare but four men, it will probably keep the mob from burning our house.’           “Major Warren studied a moment, but said he could spare none. Hiram and his companions mounted their horses and started immediately for Nauvoo.           “Then Major Warren, at about 1:00 p.m., had a consultation with Captain Morgan, who said, ‘That is more important than all there is here to do. We have been notified and there may be trouble there.’           “Consequently, Major Warren sent a lieutenant and three men who went around to Laharpe and came down to our house. It was a long way around to Laharpe, perhaps 24 or 25 miles, which brought them to our house about 9:00 p.m.           “Hiram and his companion arrived at Nauvoo between sundown and dark and rode up by the temple to the little guard house west of it. Joseph jumped off his horse and inquired for Colonel Markham. One answered, ‘I don’t know where he is.’           “‘What do you want of Colonel Markham? Where do you live? Where do you come from?’ was asked at once.           “‘I live at Camp Creek, but am now from Carthage. We went there to tell Major Warren about the mob threatening to burn our house. He couldn’t send anybody. I was told to come here and Colonel Markham would send all the help that was needed.’           “Then he gave Hiram to understand that Colonel Markham and a posse had gone up to Pontusic on a little steamboat landing on the Mississippi River and not seeing anything going on, returned that night to Nauvoo. As Hiram had no dinner and the horses had nothing to eat, he went down to President Young’s and had supper, fed the animals, and started home. He arrived home about 10:00 p.m.           “When the troops were within a mile of our house, they got a Jack Mormon, Mr. Dickson, to pilot them. They asked first for Squire Logan and then for Mr. Bigelow. He was friendly and came to the yard saying, ‘They live in there,’ and then turned back.” [There seems to be a lapse in Mary’s history here. Other sources say the lieutenant pretended to be one of the mob as a joke, so Nahum shot him.]           “The lieutenant was comfortably fixed in the doctor’s carriage and went to Pontusic, where he made out an affidavit that Mr. Bigelow was not to blame, and then took a steamboat to his parents’ home in Worsaw. I, Mr. Bigelow, and Hiram went down to Pontusic. One soldier remained with us, knowing that danger threatened Mr. Bigelow.           “I heard parties passing, looking at Mr. Bigelow laying sick in the wagon and saying, ‘Let’s take him out and flay him alive. This is the old codger that did the deed. Let’s take him out and tie a stone around his neck and throw him into the river.’           “The soldier, Hedges, heard such expressions and said to us, ‘They intend to get away with him,’ but he kept by us and no one interfered. The lieutenant gave his affidavit to the soldier and we went on to Carthage.           “I had taken lunch with us and we ate at Pontusic. While going over the prairie we went by the ashes of a house that had burned down. It was Leonard Rice’s house in the prairie settlement, by a place where one of the mob was killed. He was a hostile, savage, wicked fellow.           “The lieutenant’s brother went with Lieutenant Everett to his home. The doctor and carriage was with our cavalcade. Between daylight and dark we drove into Carthage.           “My husband and myself were taken to Hamilton’s Hotel. Hiram went to the barracks and stayed with the soldiers, who had a stag dance. We slept upstairs and had a bedroom to ourselves. At 10:00 a.m. we went to the courthouse. They took the pistol and gun and Mr. Bigelow went to be examined.           “Lawyer Babbit (I think his name was Almon), one of our brethren who was acting attorney for the Mormons, came and whispered to my husband that he would assist him if he needed him in a legal defense. He accepted him thankfully, but there was no trial.           “Major Warren showed first the statement that my husband had sent, written by himself. Captain Morgan came next saying that he suggested sending the men, and that four men were sent. Hedges came next and gave a correct and favorable statement of losing their way and arriving at Mr. Bigelow’s house late at night and what happened there.           “The written affidavit of Lieutenant Everett was then read by the clerk. It praised Mr. Bigelow’s courage and praised him as he was sick and old and yet so brave and shrewd, and that the mob did come afterwards. Being so favorable, it cleared my husband. The judge decided then, that according to the testimony, he did not consider any need for further action in the case. He said the case ought to be a reminder to the people to be cool and calm, and not be rash. Then he dismissed the case.           “My son Hiram saw the jail in which Joseph Smith was incarcerated and the window where he was shot. Mr. Bigelow was taken in a wagon to the courthouse and was helped into the room, but was unable to sit up a little while there.           “After the case was dismissed, we got into the wagon again and started home. On nearing the house, Mary Jane and Lucy met us, telling us that James Porter and another man had told them that our lives were not safe, that the mob was coming to kill us all. We got home a little before night and I was so glad to see my lonesome little children who had been tormented with fear on our account and who were glad that we got home safe and alive. We had samp mush for supper.           “James Porter, who was living on my husband’s farm, and another man from Musgusto Creek came and told us that the mob was coming to burn the house and threatened to kill Old Bigelow and all his family. We did not feel safe, so one of the boys took Lavina to Sister Gurnsleys, as she coughed so bad.           “We hid everything that was valuable. We took our bedding and made our beds in the corn, near the bean patch where we had pulled up the beans. We took all of the children in bed with us, never undressing them, and having everything dark about the bed so that the mob would not see us. It was cloudy. I was very sick with the sun pain. My husband administered to me and I felt better. After prayers we laid down. We had but little sleep as we felt like watching. In a very little while we heard firing and whooping at the house. We were glad that we were hidden.           “My husband said, ‘Lay still and pray, children.’ We all prayed silently. They yelled and set the bloodhounds on our track. The Lord preserved us from them. We could see them loping around. We heard the mob racing through the corn field in search of us. The corn was hardly ripe and was not bothered. We got up in the night and moved our bed in the hollow. Then my husband and Hiram went and leaned on the fence and watched proceedings. When the mob dispersed, they came back and went to bed.           “The mob came at about 10:00 p.m. and went away at 3:00 a.m. They had rented around until then. We were the only family in Camp Creek that was molested, which we wondered at. At last daylight came and my husband got up, bidding us to lie quietly until he came back. He would see if the mob was completely gone. The November night was gone and the sun was up before he got back. He found the house still standing, but the windows were broken. The tracks of horses’ feet were all around the house. We went back and my grown daughters commenced picking up the hidden things.           “I wanted to get breakfast. I sent my fourth child and my second, Asa, to the beautiful, large spring that was under the porch of the milk house. The spring ran off into the milk house, where we kept milk and butter, pans, churn, etc.           “Asa went down for water. He brought the water to the house, but said he believed the spring was poisoned. There was a glistening green scum on the water. He poked it away and got another pail full. It was the same. I felt that the child was inspired by God. As the water stood, the scum rose again. I said, ‘Don’t use it, but let it stay until Father comes, and go to another place, to a branch for water a half mile away.’           “When Father came back he put some of the water in a bottle to take to Nauvoo and have Dr. Willard Richards and others analyze it. When it was taken, the doctor said it contained four ounces of arsenic and would have killed ten men. We got some good water and had joint mush and milk, which we had every meal. The cornmeal was made by shaving off the corn with a jointer or plane. The corn was still soft.           “We washed up the tin cups and spoons. A man with a broad brow came along who had lost his way. He came to our house to inquire the way. When he found out about the mob, the lieutenant, and the poisoning of the spring, he entreated us to move into Nauvoo. He told us he would help us all that he could. We harnessed up and put our things into his wagon and our own and started for Nauvoo.           “We got there safe, but we were all wet. It rained all day. We went to an old Dutchman’s by the name of Stuedevant. “Hiram used to go back to Camp Creek and help get the stock and crops. He boarded at Porters. Sometimes Mr. Bigelow went out, but it was after a while as he was afraid of being ambushed.           “At the time he was poisoned about Christmas. He had been out once before, but this time my husband, myself, and Hiram went out home to get a grist of corn ground. Not considering it safe for my husband to go near Pontusic on the Queens Mill Road, he stayed at Porter’s home, working in the cornfield.           “James Porter, who always had breakfast before daylight and always had his children up to breakfast, came over and kindly invited Mr. Bigelow to come to breakfast. He did not wish to go as he had provisions with him, and wanted to get his breakfast at home. Mr. Porter insisted and begged. As he had always been friendly, my husband went. No children were visible. They were not up, but were still sleeping. At breakfast he was offered coffee. He felt as if he ought not to take it, but drank it. It was poisoned with white vitriol, but he felt no effects of it then.           “Hiram stayed and gathered the corn. We took down some squashes and Hiram quit staying at the Porters. When Porter came over in the morning he wanted to buy some big iron kettles that we scalded pigs in. He was bribed to poison Mr. Bigelow and that was why he kept his children in bed, so that they would not get poisoned, and entreated Mr. Bigelow to go to breakfast.           “My husband felt queer after breakfast. While going home, I drove the team. That afternoon, while fixing a wagon tongue, he commenced trembling and turned pale around the mouth. He sat down on the wagon tongue.           “Hiram went for an elder who got Brother Patten to come, brother to David W. Patten. It was snowing. They came in and sat down and looked at Father. He was screaming with pain. They administered to him. They spoke in tongues, saying that he should get well. He had been poisoned by the hand of an enemy. Father vomited up some very green stuff, probably enough to have killed ten men.           “After Brother Patten had spoken in tongues he said that my husband should get well and go to the Rocky Mountains and establish his family. He stayed about all night. He surely got better and was healed. He was sick two or three weeks.           “In the fall of 1845, a guard came from Nauvoo and guarded the settlement. While he was there, we had to grate corn to cook. The name of the presiding elder was Libbeons Coons. David Gambett and Father were the counselors [I suppose]. Jeremiah was the blacksmith.”           This is the last of her history that Mary gave. She said regarding her funeral, “I don’t want this temple work delayed. Unless the Lord strengthens me, I can’t stand it long. Wherever I die, there let me be buried. Have everything plain—no expensive casket. I don’t want black drapery. I want a mountain-wood coffin. When I die, whoever has charge, conduct the services. Wherever I die, there let me be buried and do not go to the expense of taking me to the city.”           Mary Gibbs Bigelow died 19 April 1888."[1] References 1. Retrieved from http://ldspamphlets.org/Mary_Gibbs_Bigelow.htm