The first part of this history about George Young was written by his daughter, Vilda Young Tracy, from her records and memories of her father.  Rose's history was mainly taken from a tape she made in 1969 with memories added by her children and grandchildren.

Grandpa Young had married his childhood sweetheart, Helen Bunting, in England, September 30, 1850, when he was 20 years old. They joined the church, came to America with her mother, Ann Bunting, and settled in Kaysville, Utah. After living in Kaysville for some time and having been married for twenty years with no children, Helen urged William to marry in polygamy, saying, "You are too good a man to have no posterity." Church leaders were also urging men to take more than one wife. At first, William was reluctant, but on August 8, 1870, he married Julia Widdison Reeves, a neighbor woman 29 years old who had never married. Julia was the daughter of Abram and Bessie Reeves. Eight children were born to them, Francis, Eunice, George, Urban, Ernest, Nathan, Julia and William. Francis, Nathan and Julia died as children and are buried in Kaysville in a lot purchased by Grandpa Young and near Grandma's parents Abram and Bessie Reeves.

Dad didn't say much about his early years in Kaysville, He did tell us one mischievous prank he and his brothers Urban and Ernest pulled. He said an older woman from England lived next door to them and she smoked a corncob pipe. The three boys, ages 10, 8, and 7, occasionally slipped through the hedge between the two yards and helped her empty ashes, carry in wood, and feed the chickens. Sometimes she treated them to cookies; and sometimes she swore at them for stepping on her flowers. One evening when they were visiting her, they thought it would be fun to load her corncob pipe with gunpowder which she kept in a metal flask on the table by her rocking chair. Gunpowder was used for various ailments in pioneer days. After they had eaten a few sugar cookies, the old lady said she had to go out and feed the chickens. By the time she returned, the three little rascals had removed some of her tobacco, sifted in a little gunpowder, and replaced the tobacco. As she sat down, the boys got the giggles and she asked, "Aye, ye little boogers, and what 'ave ye been up to?" They told her nothing and watched with interest as she lit her pipe. After about the second puff, there was a resounding boom and the little old woman went right over backwards in her rocking chair. The boys did not wait to help her up, but dashed madly from the house, scrambled through the hedge and ran as fast as they could to the straw stack where they quickly burrowed in. Soon they heard their father calling them, and knew they were in trouble, but they stayed hidden and waited until after dark to slip up the outside stairs to their beds. Of course, they got a good willowing the next morning.

Persecutions became increasingly bitter against polygamy. When Grandpa was called to help survey and settle the townsite of Preston, Idaho, it was decided that they must move. Aunt Helen told her husband that he needed to be with Julia and their small children and that that he should move to Preston and take his second wife and children with him. She said she would stay in Kaysville with her sister. After they moved to Preston, times were hard. Dad's mother became ill and died when he was twelve years old. Her youngest child was not quite four. Aunt Helen and Grandma had been like sisters and had enjoyed being all together in Kaysville. Aunt Helen had loved the children and had missed them. She willingly moved to Preston to help Grandpa raise his young family. Dad said Aunt Helen was very good to them and raised them well, but he missed his own mother terribly.

Money was scarce, so as soon as the three oldest boys were old enough to work away from home, they found jobs working for farmers and at the saw mill in Strawberry Canyon east of Preston. Dad, Uncle Urban, and Uncle Ernest were all good with horses. Some of the first things they bought when they had enough money were horses, saddles and bridles. Older residents of Preston remembered the boys as being good horsemen and dependable, honest men. Dad's love of good horses stayed with him throughout his life.
 
Grandpa was anxious for his children to get an education. He promised to help in any way he could in the building of the Oneida Academy in Preston. Dad and Uncle Ern hauled logs to fill his assessment, and Grandpa spent many hours helping in its construction. Aunt Eunice went to school there and learned many skills. Dad was always proud of his only living sister and often spoke of her.
 

ROSE BARFUS

I was born March 12, 1882, to Johannes Barfus and Elizabeth Aeschbaker Barfus in Roataback, Bern, Switzerland. There is some confusion about my birthplace. Our family lived in Eggiwil, but Mother must have gone to a sister's or a midwife in Roataback. My father, who was a farmer, was working for a friend there. A man came and told Father that Roataback was enlarged by one that day. My father hurried to the house and found the new baby girl which was me. I had an older sister, Elizabeth, who was born May 8, 1874, and a brother, Frederick, who was born October 13, 1876.

My parents became members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints in Switzerland and decided to join the Saints in Zion (Utah) as soon as possible. Many people had bad feelings against anyone who joined the LDS Church then. My parents often told me of the time while they were still in Switzerland when Father was going to a meeting with the missionaries. Three men who were bitterly opposed to the Church planned to detain him on his way and do him harm, perhaps kill him. When they were ready to leave, one man became violently ill, another dropped dead as they approached their hiding spot, and the third ran home in fright. Father did not know of his danger until the next day.

Because of the bitter feelings against the Church, my parents could not sell their home and farm when they were ready to leave. People knew that when the family left for America, all their possessions would be left and would be free for the taking.

At the time of our departure on August 18, 1882, the family consisted of Father and Mother and their three children, Elizabeth, age 8, Frederick, age 6 and myself, only six months old. With us was Grandmother Elizabeth Aeschbaker (my mother was named after her) and her adopted son, John Aebersold. Grandmother had also joined the Church and had the means to help pay for our boat passage. Because of limited funds, we had to sail steerage in the bottom of the ship. We were poorly fed and slept on straw. Mother said we were very seasick. The ocean voyage was long, but I do not remember any of it because I was just a baby. All I know is what Mother told me about it. Mother said when we went through customs, she was told my Swiss name Rosina should be changed to Rosetta. This led to confusion because I never knew if I should answer to Rosina, Rosetta, Rose, Rosa, or Rosie.

We came by train across the United States to Ogden, Utah, then transferred to another train to Logan. From there we had to walk the three miles to Providence. We stayed there for some time. Mother said many of the Providence people were of Swiss descent and were very good to them. She laughed as she told me they had never tasted peaches before and did not like them.

My parents got an offer to work for a farmer in Mink Creek, Idaho. Because farming had been their way of life in Switzerland, we moved to Mink Creek. Most of the people in Mink Creek were from Denmark, so our family could not speak the language or understand it. Life was very hard until we became more familiar with the people and, their ways.

Money was always scarce but the children had fun. We roamed the hills in the summertime with friends. Sometimes in the winter, each furnished milk, sugar, or eggs and made ice cream. This we made by putting the ingredients in a small bucket and shaking it.

I went to school up on the hill in Mink Creek. When it was torn down, I went to a school at the bottom of the hill where the roads intersect.

The family loved the beautiful scenery in Mink Creek. It reminded us of our beloved Switzerland. However, there were many more wild animals here. One day a mother bear and her cub went down the trail behind the house. We also saw coyotes, beavers, badgers, weasels, deer and elk.

My family raised a big garden and dried fruit and vegetables for winter use. Our home was about one mile up Birch Creek. We also picked wild berries and used them with our garden and orchard produce.

My little brother Johnny was born July 15, 1884. He was only five days old when grasshoppers attacked our garden. Mother went; out and worked in the garden on her knees helping to catch, and kill the grasshoppers. At last we won out, and had a good garden from then on.

My younger sister Leah was born January 3, 1889, when I was seven. I often tended Leah while Mother helped build the new log home. In case Leah cried, Mother prepared the following--a piece of bread dipped in cream and sprinkled with sugar, then wrapped in a clean cloth and tied shut. The baby could suck on this like a pacifier. Mother always cautioned me to pin the cloth securely to the baby's clothes so she would not get it into her throat and choke. When it was time to feed the baby, I carried her to the building site to be nursed.

I remember one time Mother had cooked a big kettle of potato peelings, outer cabbage leaves, and other garden scraps for the chickens. I had been sitting by the stove with my feet on the oven door. Just as she set the kettle on the floor, I swung my feet off the oven door and right into the being vegetable peelings. I was badly burned and suffered severe pain for quite awhile.

Mother was very faithful about having her children baptized when they were eight years old, so on my eighth birthday we went through the snow to a Brother Steffin's house. I don't recall ever having shoes when I was a young child, but he let me wear his wooden shoes to walk the two blocks to the spot where I was to be baptized in the creek. The creek was frozen over, so the ice had to be chopped away before Brother Steffin could baptize me in the icy water below. When I stepped out of the shoes, they floated away and were never found. It was so cold that my clothes froze to my body as I hurried back to the house to change to dry clothes.

When I was in fourth grade, I got a bad sore below my chin, probably from an abscessed tooth. Jim, my sister Lizzie's husband, took me to a doctor in Preston. There was no hospital there so he told us he would come to their house in Preston where he would operate on it. He instructed Lizzie to take up her homespun carpet, wash it and the curtains, ceiling, walls, and floors. This was to make sure no germs from them would cause infection after the surgery. These preparations were made and the day for surgery came, but the doctor did not. Finally, Jim went to the doctor's office to see why. The doctor said he was afraid to do the surgery. Then Jim took me to Logan to a Dr. Ormesby. Jim had to help hold me on the operating table while the doctor chiseled away bone, using a medical chisel and hammer. There was a hole through from the outside of my chin to the inside of my mouth. The nurse took a cloth soaked in antiseptic and threaded it through the hole, then pulled it back and forth to clean the wound. It hurt until I could hardly stand it. I had to stay in Logan for three weeks. After that they thought it was healed enough for me to go home, but it flared up again. Lizzie wrote to Dr. Ormesby and he wanted me back as soon as possible. This time the doctor had a dentist come to look at it. He said my tooth was dead and cracked in several places. They pulled the tooth and I had to stay another two weeks to have daily treatment. It healed well and I had no more trouble with it. By then, I had missed so much school that I never went back.

In those days, children from poor families who weren't in school had to hire out. Work for young girls was hard and not often available. Pay was in eggs or scrip (a piece of paper that said you were entitled to collect something). One job I worked on was to help a woman with a big family do the family wash. I walked a mile to the home, washed on a washboard all day by hand and then walked home alone in the dark at night.

I also worked for a family who had two small children. The wife was sick in bed. I not only cooked and cleaned and washed their clothes on a washboard, but had to draw water for the family and livestock from a 90-foot deep well. Sometimes my arms and shoulders hurt so bad I felt I could not pull up one more bucket of water. The man made bricks and his clothes got so dirty I could hardly get them clean. It was a hard job for a 14-year-old girl at 15 cents a week!

Another job I remember was when I worked for a family also with small children. The mother had a new baby and no milk to nurse it. I was expected to get up in the night and warm milk over a coal oil lamp, then pour it into a bottle and feed the baby. They would send me out to cut alfalfa for the pigs while the family ate their meals. I was later given a tin cup of bread and milk for each meal. I could tell from the dirty dishes I had to wash, that their breakfast had been bacon, eggs and cereal. Their other meals were always potatoes, meat and vegetables. One day I got so homesick for my own family that I told the woman I had to go home. She told me I could go, but I had to take the two smaller children with me. The girl was a plump little tyke who could walk and run all over. The boy, Manuel, was six or seven. The mother told Manuel to be sure I carried his sister every step of the way. When we arrived at my home, I was so exhausted and hungry that Mother told me I could go down to the cellar and eat all I wanted to. Then my brother helped me take the children back and I quit my job. I had been expected to light the shanty stove with one match when it was wet from rain, as were the paper and wood, then work like a man all day.

One job I had was herding cows to keep them out of a farmer's grain and hay fields. I did this barefoot. A man in Mink Creek who made wooden shoes made me a pair and gave them to me. They hurt my feet and I could not wear them. My brother John bored holes in the top of the toes and we made little flags to fit into the holes and used them on the ditches and creek for little boats. We had great fun sailing them. The farmer whose cows I herded all fall paid me by having his wife buy three yards of calico at 15 cents a yard. This was my pay for weeks of work herding cows all day barefoot.

Later I worked at the sawmill in Emigration Canyon near Mink Creek for two years with my sister Lizzie. Her husband, Jim, worked at the sawmill and they lived in the cook shack where I stayed with them. They had two children, Lester and Mabel. Lester later died. Mabel learned to walk while her mother and I cooked at the sawmill. It was hard work for Lizzie and me--up at 5:00 a.m. and never to bed before 10:00 p.m. as we cooked for eighteen to twenty-one men. Breakfast was usually cooked cereal or fried potatoes and bacon and eggs. The pay was 50[cents?] a week. The men were always courteous and kind to us and once in awhile, some of them would come to the cook shack and play checkers and card games with us after the evening meal.

When I was seventeen, I met my future husband. I had again been staying with my sister Lizzie who was living in a one-room log house on a homestead out in the clay hills of Treasureton, Idaho. I was planning to go home so we had washed everything in sight, including my best clothes. I was wearing an old faded skirt and a ragged blouse with the elbows out. When George Young rode up on his horse, I said to my sister, "Oh, I hope that man doesn't come in!" But Jim invited him in to dinner, as was the custom in those days. I wished I could have fallen through a knothole, but I have been glad ever since that I didn't. We did not "keep company" as dating was called then, until I was eighteen years old. (Dad said later he didn't see the work clothes, only the sweet, little Swiss girl in them, and knew as soon as he could, he would try to win her.)

I returned to stay with Lizzie when her husband Jim was called on a mission to Denmark. They now had another little girl, Hazel. Jim naturally was worried about his young wife and small daughters. He visited with me and asked me to promise to stay with Lizzie until he got back. We helped support him on his mission by doing six washes a week and three to six ironings for other people. We had a hand-propelled washer and it was hard work, but we felt we were doing our part for the missionary program.

About a year after George ate dinner with us that first time, he came to Lizzie's again, this time to get Jim's address, which he said was the best excuse he could think of to get to see me again. I had not seen him since the year before. It was my turn to milk the family cow. George went out to help me and from then on we kept company until I was nineteen. We made plans to get married.

Just before my marriage, a family in Mink Creek had typhoid fever. The father was on a mission and there were nine children. One son died with the disease. I went there night and morning to do the chores and milk their cows. I never went into the house, but I caught the disease and was very sick. Most of my hair fell out, and I finally had to have what was left of my long hair cut short. I curled it with the old kind of curling iron that had to be heated by hanging it inside the chimney of a kerosene lamp over the flame. My hair was still very short when I was ready to get married. Some unkind woman told me I might not be allowed in the temple because only bad girls wore short hair. My bishop assured me that I could go on his recommend. For three months I had hardly left the house because all the other women and girls had long hair and my short hair made me feel very conspicuous. George told me he liked it that way because he always knew where I was.

Although we both had to work hard and there wasn't much time for fun, we always made time for the weekly dances and an occasional walk together after the chores were done. In the winter, we would go for sleigh rides with heated rocks at our feet and warm quilts over our laps. The sleigh was a wooden box about four feet by twelve feet by two feet deep which sat on top of sleigh runners and was pulled by horses. It was a lot of fun.

My marriage was a big occasion for a young Swiss girl. The date was set for May 15, 1901, in the Logan Temple. My wedding dress was white organdy with a ruffle around the yoke and sleeves and one around the bottom of the skirt. George gave me $10.00 and I bought a pair of new shoes and two pairs of stockings.

Lizzie's father-in-law, Lars Peter Christensen, was a fairly wealthy man. He told George that he would loan him his fancy little surrey buggy with a fringe on top if we would take his wife and Lizzie to Logan with us and take them to see his daughter, Caroline Dahle, in Clarkston. Lizzie wanted to have pictures taken in Logan of her and their two little girls to send to Jim on his mission in Denmark.

George always had good, spirited horses and when we arrived in Logan, all the activity scared his beautiful black matched team. He had to stay in the buggy and control the horses while the ladies shopped. Grandma Christensen had some good friends in Logan and we all spent the night in their home.

The next morning George and I got and went to the temple alone to be married. We were young and scared and somehow got left until last. It was 4:00 p.m. when we got back to our friends' house. After eating we all went to Clarkston to Jim's sister's home to spend the night. We slept in the same room as Jim and Lizzie did on their wedding night--and what a night it was. Caroline was full of fun, but her husband Hans was sick, so that helped us or it would have been worse. Lizzie and Caroline made rag dolls and put in our bed. They paraded around the house beating on pans and lids. I had loaned Lizzie one pair of my new stockings and she wore them right out with her running about half the night. The next day we hitched up the mares and went home to Preston.

First, we went to Lizzie's and stayed the night. A group of friends went to Grandpa Young's to shivaree us. (A shivaree was when a group of friends of a newly married couple separated the bride and groom, often taking the groom some distance away so he had to walk back. Sometimes, he would not find his bride until morning.) Of course, they couldn't find us there. The next night, the friends went, to Lizzie's, but we had gone to Grandpa Young's. So the shivaree party did not work out.

George got called to go to work on the Mink Creek ditch for a week. Shareholders each spent a week cleaning and repairing the ditch every spring. I stayed with Lizzie and began collecting items for our house. Before we got married, George had bought two empty lots in the Preston [?]th Ward at 3rd East and 1st North. He also had applied to homestead 160 acres in the clay hills southwest of Treasureton, Idaho. He had lived there two years, but had three more to go. We moved into the small shack on the homestead with just the bare necessities: a homemade bed with a straw tick, a rough lumber cupboard and table, three chairs, and a cute little stove I wish I still had. We had to live on this land six months each year to homestead the 160 acres. During the winter we rented a place in Preston. (Howard remembers being introduced to a man in Preston, Bob Bosworth, who asked if he was related to George Young. When Howard replied, "Yes, he is my father," the fellow told him that he and George Young homesteaded side by side as young men. He told Howard how they put up a ridge-pole wall tent across the dividing line; George slept on his side and Bob slept on his side. They lived together until George got married and then they remained good friends for life.)

George and Grandpa Young built a big one-room home on one of the Preston lots, which Grandpa lived in while he and George built a four-room frame home for the family on the same lot. By that time, Grandpa Young had sold his farm north of Preston. This one-room house was the one that George and my two brothers, Fred and John, later moved to a lot one block east of our home which had been purchased by John. This became the home for my mother and youngest sister Leah when they moved from Mink Creek after my father died. George, Fred and John also built a barn on the lot for my mother.

Out on the homestead, I would drive the horses while George fenced. There was no water, so George dug a well fifty feet deep. He got water but it was so poor even the animals would not drink it.  We had to haul water from a place half a mile away.

George and his brother, Ernest, worked together and were good friends.  Ern had a homestead near ours.  They had to haul their grain to Oxford which took most of the day as it was quite a distance away.  One day when our first baby was almost due, Ern told George not to leave me alone.  He said I should stay with his wife, Mary, who was also expecting a baby.  I helped lift a heavy tub of water which started early labor and I had my baby.  He only lived five hours. When George got home, he hurried to get Grandpa to give the baby a blessing, but the tiny, premature baby died as they came through the door. This was September 18, 1902. A year later on August 12, 1903, another little boy was born. I had been sick the whole time I carried this baby and he too was premature and lived only half an hour. One of our greatest sorrows was the loss of our first two baby boys.

Three years later, another baby boy was born on June 8, 1906. George had worked hard to get the Preston home finished, and we moved in before the baby came. He hoped if I could be in Preston and have the care of a good doctor, we could save this third child. The baby was small and weak; the doctor said to name him quickly as he might not make it. Grandpa Young had hoped we would name our first son after President Brigham Young whom he had known personally. To please him and to follow the doctor's instructions, we named this baby Brigham Lowe Young, the Lowe being Grandpa Young's mother's maiden name. Brig lived to become a big, strong, healthy man.

Two years later another son, Howard B. Young, was born on October 3, 1908. He was our biggest baby at birth. He, too, grew to happy, healthy adulthood. really pleased me that my two sons enjoyed each other so much and were best friends.

On September 11, 1912, a tiny, baby girl was born, Vilda Elizabeth Young. We were very happy to get a girl. About a year after Vilda was born, my father died. He had never adjusted to the American way of life and had mourned for his native Switzerland. He had been ill with rheumatism and allergies for many years. My heart ached for my poor mother, but I knew he was in a happier place.

On February 25, 1915, another son was born, but died three days later from a defective heart valve. He was named Sidney.

Grandpa Young lived in his home with his daughter Eunice until she got married. At about this time, he sold his home and property because he could no longer take care of it. He tried living with Eunice and her husband Jim, then Ern and Mary, but neither place worked out. He came to George and me to see if he could stay awhile with us. We were glad to have him. He lived with us for nineteen years until his death. I loved and respected Grandpa Young and appreciated how much he helped me. He always saw to it that I had wood and coal for my cook stove. He helped me in my garden, churned the butter, and rocked and sang to my babies. My children loved him dearly.

In 1916, we felt we needed more room, for our family. We bought forty acres from George T. Benson (father of President Ezra Taft Benson). This property was two miles east of Preston in the new 5th Ward, nicknamed "Egypt" because of the fertile wheat and corn land. We continued to live in the house in town while the new house was being built by Clarence Neilson. Clarence was a good friend of George's and we had known him a long time, as he was married to Lizzie's husband's sister Elizabeth. The Christensens and Neilsons were an important part of our lives. lie visited back and forth and shared camping, fishing, and many holidays together.

Lizzie's husband, Jim, died, leaving her with five children: Mabel, Hazel, Ruby, Leora, and Leon. Another son, Clifford, was born shortly after Jim's death. Lizzie's home and farm were only a mile away from ours. Her house was just across the street from our new 5th Ward church house. Bishop Mortensen often said the ward depended on Lizzie for many things. Any ward function which needed more dishes, butter or whatever, someone would run over to her house to borrow it.

Another girl was born to us after we moved into our new home in the 5th Ward. Donna was born September 8, 1917. Lizzie came and stayed with us to help. It was good to have her there to bathe the baby and care for our family.

Those were happy years in the 5th Ward. We were active in the Church, were doing well, and had good neighbors and friends: the Oliversons, Mosers, and Mochlis. I served in the Relief Society and Primary as second counselor, Brig served in the Sunday School superintendency, and Howard in the MIA. Vilda began her Church activity in the religion class held after school. We enjoyed the ward and the people. Bishop Mortensen once told George that he had contributed more hours than anyone else in building the new church house, sending two teams and two sons when he had been asked to send one of each, George replied, "I don't know of a better place to be for my boys or my horses than in the service of the Lord."

Although George did not like public work, he had a sincere desire to live a good life and he lived the principles of the gospel every day. Like his father, he honored the Sabbath Day. We always bathed and got our clothes ready for church on Saturday night. He would not tolerate anyone working on his place on Sunday. He was proud of the boys and happy when they were put in positions of leadership in church or community organizations. He loved the girls and was proud of their accomplishments. (Vilda says: Mother never ceased to be the most important person in Dad's life. He not only demanded that we children be good to her and show her proper respect, but he always set the Good example. My favorite memory of my parents is seeing them walk out through the fields, arm in arm, to change the water or check on the crops. If they had differences, their children never heard of them.)

When the flu epidemic of 1918 spread to Preston, our family contracted it. Everyone was sick but George. How he worried and tried to take good care of us. Vilda had a terrible earache. The doctor told George some things to do for it, but nothing helped. Someone told him to blow cigarette smoke into her ear. He didn't smoke, so he got a neighbor to come and do that. It did not ease the pain, but made both of them sick from the smoke. Finally, all of us recovered except the baby, Donna. She developed a bad abscess on her neck below her ear and near the big vein.  One doctor lanced and drained it two or three times, but it still got worse. We were so worried about her. As George carried her up the stairs on the way to the doctor's office one day, he met our local chiropractor on the stairs. Everyone knew Dr. Wheeler, and he stopped to ask what was the matter. When George told him and said how serious further surgery would be so close to the big vein, Dr. Wheeler said, "George, let me give her some violet ray treatments. They will not harm her and if they do not help her, it won't cost you a cent." So once a week, George carried his little girl to Dr. Wheeler and the treatments dried up the infected area. She still has the scar, but had no further trouble from it.

On April 9, 1923, our daughter, Julia was born. She was premature and we were afraid she wouldn't live. After her birth, I had some health problems including a bout with kidney stones. Vilda had much of the baby's care and she claimed Julia as her baby from then on. Julia developed pneumonia in her second winter, and again in her third. Dr. Cutler finally told George the best precaution was to bundle her up and take her outside every day for a walk. "Take her out, rain or shine, every day," he said, and George did. We bundled her up on cold days, and on really bad days he carried her. To my knowledge, she never had pneumonia again.

One thing George hated was being late. One Sunday I was sick and couldn't go to Sunday School. George tried to hurry the children all morning. He finally said, "If you are late, I will bring you back home." He had his horses harnessed and hitched to the white top buggy. At last they were on their way. As George drove into the parking lot, they could hear the opening song. George turned the horses around and brought the children back home, crying and protesting all the way. I don't think they were ever late again.

George was a good farmer. His supplies and equipment were kept clean, and in good repair. He would mend and oil his horses' harnesses on stormy winter days, so when spring came he was ready to plant and care for his land. Each day when he walked out through the fields, he carried a shovel to cut out any thistles, burrs or weeds that he saw.

We had a big garden and the family worked together to make it grow. When fall came, we gathered the dry beans and corn left in the garden and put them in gunny sacks. In the winter, we sat around the big stove and shelled the corn and beans while the children took turns reading out of the Idaho Farmer. One story Vilda particularly remembers was The Hound of the Baskervilles, which was printed as a serial in each issue. She says she would go to bed and shiver thinking about it.

In 1926 George decided we needed more land. The boys were grown--Brig was 20 and Howard was 18. The forty acres we owned wasn't enough to keep the three of them busy, so the boys hired out. George didn't like to see them work hard for other people and often get paid little or sometimes nothing at all. He began looking for a larger place and found a ranch in Thatcher (Idaho), about 12 miles south of Grace. He took Brig and Howard into a partnership, and they were all very happy about this arrangement. I had doubts about leaving my nice home in Preston with electricity and running water for an old, rundown house with neither, but I wanted to support George and the boys. Vilda cried and cried because she would have to leave her friends. She was 14. Donna and Julia were small and didn't seem to care one way or the other.

Life on the ranch was very different. There were 640 acres of land, several springs of clear water, and an old house which had been used as a granary. The place had been rented out before we bought it and things were in bad shape--buildings, fences, and all. The ranch had a big ridge across the road from the house. When the plowing had been done the year before, they had missed strips eight feet wide and clear along the ridge. When the grain came up, it was plain it would. not be a full, crop--and it wasn't. Besides, it was hard to find someone to cut it, so a lot of our crop shelled out on the ground.

When the boys started plowing, one time around the base of the "Big Ridge" took the whole morning. As they told us goodbye, they would laugh and say, "We'll be home for lunch if we are lucky!" If it went well, they could make two trips around in the afternoon. The closer they got to the top, the shorter the distance was and their trips increased each day. The two big plows they used were each pulled by six horses, three in front of three.

When the Depression came along, prices went way down. It was a discouraging year and we were afraid we might lose the ranch. We sold our home and farm in Preston 5th Ward and the forty acres of dry farm about a mile north which we called the Bauchman Place. George had bought this after we moved to the 5th Ward. Everyone continued to work hard, the Lord blessed our efforts and we gradually pulled through.

We all liked living in Thatcher, which was a small ranching community with homes separated by one to ten miles. Our family life went on pretty much as it had in Preston, except we each had more to do. We depended more on our neighbors. The men helped each other by exchanging work when harvest time came, or whenever a big job needed more helping hands. We spent many happy times with Emanuel and Lucy Crossley, the Mickelsons, the Manharts, and the Ballwinkles. Sometimes in the winter, the little country road leading to our five ranches would get snowed in, so the families would get together and play Pinochle, Rook, Old Maid, and other card games, and board games like Fox and Geese. George made a wooden board with holes and pegs in it for Fox and Geese. He liked to play checkers and it was real hard to beat him.

The family continued to be active in Church organizations. I was called to Primary President. Vilda taught Sunday School and Beehive classes. Later Brig was called to be Bishop and Howard was in a Bishopric. We were busy and happy in the Thatcher Ward and made many lifelong friends.

Vilda had her heart set on going to college, but the Depression had cut deeply into our resources and we could see no way to finance college for her. She decided to go to Idaho Falls with her friend Olive Mortensen and work there for a year. She saved her money and started college at Utah State Agricultural College in Logan in September of 1932. That year she met Melvin Bartschi and they got married on May [?]5, 1933. They had four children: Jay, Janis, Brent, and Julie.

Following Julia's first year in high school, we decided to let her go live with Vilda and attend school there. In Thatcher there were no girls in our neighborhood and she hated the ride to catch the school bus with a bunch of noisy, rough boys. Vilda's husband was away from home three weeks of every month and we felt she needed Julia too. Julia lived with Vilda and attended the last three years of high school at South Cache in Hyrum.

Donna graduated from high school in 1935, and had thought she might stay with Vilda and go to college in Logan. I got sick and we kept her home to help me. She also worked in Grace for Calvin Bennett's family for $1.00 per day. She married Willis Roper from Thatcher on November 15, 1940. Their children are Aliene, Orrin, Dennis, and Gary.

Brig married Vera Bailey from Pocatello, Idaho, on May 17, 1941. It was a case of city girl marrying country boy, but Vera measured up to the challenge. They lived with us for a while in the ranch house while they built their new home one-half mile east. In later years, Vera used to kid me about spoiling my two boys. My answer was, "Well, I had a hard time keeping these two, especially Brig, but you've spoiled him more than I have! You've had him longer!" I always enjoyed staying with Brig and Vera. They were blessed with three daughters: Joyce, Jean and Betty.

Howard married Irene Allen from Swan Lake, Idaho, on May 20, 1942, and they also moved into the old ranch house. George and I had never believed it was good to live with married children, so in 1942 we sold our share of the ranch to Brig and Howard and moved to Logan so Julia could go to college there. We rented an apartment on 5th East between 4th and 5th North. The boys and their wives lived together in the ranch house until Brig and Vera could move into their new home. After they moved out, Howard and Irene began working on the old house. With Howard's ability and Irene's good ideas, they soon had the old house nicely remodeled. Eight years after they were married, Howard and Irene built a new home just across the creek. They had four children: Dale, Glenn, Robert, and Carol.

That year in Logan, George missed the boys and the ranch terribly and was very unhappy living in town. I enjoyed it because we had Julia with us and we could see Vilda often. Also, my sister Lizzie's niece, Beverly Neilson Brinton, lived in Logan while her husband was going to college. She's the daughter of our old friend Clarence Neilson who helped build our house in the Preston 5th Ward. She would take us to her house and we had some fun times with them. Even though there were some good things about being in Logan, George was so unhappy being off the ranch that he lost forty pounds that winter. We both felt unsettled without a place of our own and decided we would like to go back to Preston where we knew so many people. The next spring we moved into the house at 39 North 3rd East.

Julia stayed with Vilda, working at the U. S. Army Depot at 2nd Street in Ogden for about a year. She then joined the Waves, a women's branch of the Navy during World War II, where she served as a dental technician in Boston, Massachusetts, until after the war. She was released just before Vilda's fourth child was born and came back to be with her again. Julia married a Providence fellow, Justin Mathews on December 5, 1947. He was killed in a farm tractor accident the following summer when their baby Kathleen was just five days old. Julia and Kathleen moved back in with Vilda, who tended the baby while Julia returned to school, received her degree and was given a scholarship for advanced study. Julia married Helmer Olson on June 5, 1950. They had five children: Rex, Carl, Rita, Keith, and Vickie.

George and I enjoyed our life back in Preston. George worked at the Sugar Factory in Whitney to supplement our payments from the boys on the ranch. Mrs. George Smith from Cleveland, Idaho (in Gentile Valley), was one of our neighbors. George had known her husband before we moved to Thatcher. Our boys had been good friends and my niece, Ruby Christensen, had married her son, Bill.

A family named Peck lived on the corner south of us and had been good neighbors. When they moved, Clyde and Ione Oliverson moved there and were good to us too. Clyde's parents and their children had been our neighbors out in the 5th Ward. Ione's mother had been my good friend since we were girls and lived one-half block east of our home in Preston. We were constantly meeting old friends who came to see us, and our relatives did too, Mrs. Smith and I pieced quilt
tops together and quilted both at home and at Relief Society. I loved flowers and had flower beds all around the house.

Then suddenly, life as I had known it for 48 years ended for me. George died unexpectedly on July 21, 1949. My husband who had always loved, shielded and cared for me was gone and I did not know how I would face life without him. He had been having some problems with his heart and eyes. Dr. Orvid Cutler, son of Dr. Alan Cutler, who had been our family doctor for years, had told him he must cut out all activity for a while. He had a hard time lying on the couch or sitting on the porch as I weeded the flowers and watered the lawn. One evening we sat on the porch and called back and forth across the street to our good neighbors, the Harmers. As I got up to move the sprinkler, George said, "I guess I'll go in and lie down for a few minutes while you get supper." I changed the sprinkler and went in to put our meal on the table. When I walked to the door to call him, I saw he was asleep, so I picked up my crocheting and sat down in the rocker near the couch. Suddenly, George made a funny, choking sound, and as I turned to look at him, his face was purple. I cried out to him, but he did not answer, so I ran to the door and screamed to Brother and Sister Harmer who were still sitting on their porch. Brother Harmer ran across the street to help me and Sister Harmer ran to call Dr. Cutler. We loosened George's shoes and collar, as we tried to get a response from him. Dr. Cutler was there in ten minutes, but George's life was gone. It was a terrifying time for me. Our boys and their wives had left on a fishing trip to the wilderness area of the Salmon River, Vilda and Julia were in Providence, Donna and Bill were in Thatcher. Sister Smith called Vilda. She and Mel came right up to Preston. Vilda spent the rest of the day and all night trying to locate her brothers. The highway patrol put out an alert on the radio, hoping they might have their car radio on. We finally had to go ahead and plan the funeral for July 26th without Brig and Howard.

Our bishop, Sherwin Webb, was also our mortician, and he was so kind and helpful to me. We prayed constantly that our boys would get the message--and at last they did. Brig and Howard had walked to the nearby reservoir to fish. Vera and Irene had stayed in camp to wash the breakfast dishes and straighten camp. They decided to listen to the radio when suddenly the music stopped and the message came on, "Attention, Brig or Howard Young, or anyone listening who knows where they are, please call this number. It is a serious emergency." (Vera doesn't remember the radio alert, but says a Forest Ranger came to their camp to tell them. Her sister Gertrude was staying with their children, and when Vilda called to see if she had any idea where to find them, Gertie gave her the license number from a small duplicate the kids had on their little red wagon.) Vera says she and Irene hiked quite a distance to the reservoir where Brig and Howard were fishing. They had to drive all night to get home for the funeral.

I was very lonely without George, but my children and friends and neighbors were so good to me. Each Memorial Day my children prepared a potluck dinner and came to spend the day with me. I spent Thanksgiving usually with Vilda and her family and often stayed until Christmas. Then I went to Thatcher and spent a month or two with my boys and their families. I always enjoyed my grandchildren. It was fun to teach the girls to crochet and to read and play games with all of them. The kids were amazed that I remembered many poems from my childhood and requested to hear them often.

I lived alone in our home in Preston until 1963. Then I became so overwhelmed with the work and care of our home and yard that I felt I could not do it alone anymore. Vilda came and stayed two weeks. She repaired holes in the plaster and cleaned, painted and papered. I felt better until I looked at my flower beds and saw all that needed to be done there. One day Donna and Willis came to see me. They came often and brought me chicken or cream, or some other good thing. When I told them how tired I was of all the work and not being able to do it, they encouraged me to move to Logan and be in an apartment with no yard work. It sounded good to me and they soon found an apartment just across from the Temple. They moved me there in November of 1963.

Vilda had been coming up once a week to take me for groceries and do my hair. I felt that it was an imposition for her to do that all winter. She had just remarried and was teaching school in Smithfield. She and Floyd were in Hawaii when I moved. Donna and Bill had moved me into the apartment the day they returned home. When I got ready to go to bed, I found I had no lights. I knew how tired Donna and Bill must be, so I called Vilda and Floyd. They came right over and soon had new light bulbs in and lights all working.

Floyd was always so good to me. He had brought his mother's couch, overstuffed chair, and footstool to Preston for me to use as long as I wanted them. They matched the pretty carpet Julia paid to have installed in our living room.

I enjoyed the apartment. Even though I missed the old friends, I made many new ones. I continued to crochet and make quilts. Erma Hogan came several times and took me to the Temple with her. I went with Vilda too.  My grandchildren visited me often and cheered my lonely days. Howard and Irene's second son Glenn would come take me to his place for dinner and to spend the evening. Later Brig and Vera's second daughter, Jean, and her husband Lee were in Logan and came to see me a lot, as did Vilda's son Brent and his wife Shirley. If I had trouble with my television, Brent would come to get my dials back where they should be. When Janis moved back to Logan, she and her son Cam took me places and were good to visit me. [?]ily boys and their wives were very busy, but they always made me happy with regular visits. Floyd and Vilda came every week and often took me to their home to stay and so did Donna and Willis. Julia was too far away to come, but she was good to write to me. I have always felt so blessed with my good children.

When I began losing my eyesight, I signed myself into Sunshine Terrace, a retirement home, and never told any of my children I had done it. It was a shock to all of them and again I had to adjust to a new way of life. I made many new friends and enjoyed the programs and church activities there. I especially loved to have my children and grandchildren come. Julie now had her first little girl, Lisa. She was a bright, sunny little soul and all the people loved to see her come

(Remainder written by Vilda)

Mother had an unusual gift for making the best of every situation. She was so much fun that she enjoyed a wonderful relationship not only with her children and grandchildren, but her nieces and nephews as well. They would come to her home and say, "Aunt Rosie, come and go home with us for a week or two." They would piece quilts or make aprons or go camping. Once when she was in her late 70's, she went to Yellowstone Park with Clifford and Virginia Christensen, and slept in a sleeping bag in a tent with bears all around her. She rode every vehicle her grandson, Brent ever had: his old "puddle jumper Buick", a Go-cart he built, a motorcycle, and his boat.

Mother always had a close friendship with her own brothers and sisters and their children. Uncle Johnny's son Willis, came from Downey and took her on an airplane ride over the Valley. She loved every minute of that.

Once when Janis and Martin came to see us, we brought Mother over to share the visit. Janis and Martin had planned to take me home with them and we invited her to go too. She agreed, so we went to Boulder, Colorado, for a week, then flew home on a commercial airplane. Mother loved that flight (her first on a large plane), and the busy week we had sightseeing in Colorado.

She went to Cedar City with Aunt Lizzie, Clifford and Virginia, and spent a week with Ruby and Bill Smith. Ruby says she will never forget the fun they all had. She went to visit Mabel and Wilburn Lee in Rigby, Idaho, several times and always commented on how much she enjoyed them and their nice family. Mabel was Lizzie's daughter and had lived with Mother and Dad one year when she taught school. They kept a close relationship throughout her life.

For several years I held a birthday party for Mother when she came to spend March with us before she went back home to Preston after a winter away. One year Brig's daughter Joyce said to me, "Aunt Vilda, can't we have Grandma's birthday party somewhere big enough for the grandkids to come too?" There were now too many to host in a home, so I made arrangements to hold the birthday party at the Golf Club in Smithfield. We met there for three years, and Mother enjoyed seeing her whole family together.

The year of her 90th birthday in 1972, Brig and Howard and their wives reserved the Thatcher Church Recreation Hall and had a gigantic birthday party for Mother. Family, friends and neighbors were all invited. They had a lovely program and refreshments. So many people came; we could hardly believe the number of old friends who traveled long distances to show their love and respect to her. It was a source of great pleasure to our dear Mother.

In August of 1972, Janis and Martin were expecting their first baby. I had made arrangements to be there to help out. Floyd and I had been spending one evening a week with Mother at Sunshine Terrace, and would bring her home to spend the weekend as often as possible. She had just been with us before Martin called to say he was taking Janis to the hospital. She had been well and happy, had joked and laughed with Floyd, as sharp as ever. I flew to Boulder and stayed ten days. When I returned, I had to go to Mendon and called Mother to see if she would like to go along for the ride, then go home with me to have lunch and hear about the new baby, Melanie. She sounded just fine and wanted to go. I signed her out and we started for the parking lot. That is when our problems began. She nearly fell down twice, and commented that her feet had not been behaving like she wanted them to.

When I shopped for sweet rolls at the bakery, she said, "Your Uncle Fred always liked to go here." I was very surprised because to my knowledge he had never lived in Logan. I asked about that and she said, "Oh, are we in Logan?" I asked her where she thought we were, and she replied, "Aren't we in Preston?" From then on she seemed confused all the way to Mendon and back to Providence. When we stopped in our garage, she asked where we were again, and I had a terrible time getting her out of the car and into the house. I had her lie down on the couch and I hurriedly called Sunshine Terrace. I was told no one should have signed Mother out, that she had suffered a series of small strokes while I was gone, and that I should bring her back as soon as possible, which I did.

When Floyd and I went to see her on Wednesday evening, we could see her condition was deteriorating rapidly. She had to be tied in her chair to keep from falling and her mind wandered the whole hour we were there. In September my school started, but I continued to go see her twice each day, once in the morning before school to feed her, and each afternoon after school. Floyd was working nights, which made it possible for me to stay there with her until 9:30 or 10:00 p.m. The strokes had continued and she could no longer speak. The doctor told me the end was near. I was determined that she should not die alone. Julia was too far away to come, but Brig, Howard and Donna visited her as often as they could.

Saturday morning when I went to the Terrace, Mother was in a coma. She no longer even looked at me or squeezed my hands when I asked her if she knew who I was. I sat by her bed and held her hand until 11:00 a.m., then had to go home. As I got to the door of her room, something prompted me to go back.

I told her again how much I loved her and her eyes shifted from the ceiling to my face. I had the overpowering feeling that she heard and understood. I hurried down to the parking lot and home. As I came through the door of my house, the telephone was ringing. I answered it and was told that my mother had died.

The large attendance at her funeral service, which included all ages of people, is perhaps the best tribute to the love and esteem in which she was held.

This is one of the many poems recited from memory by Grandma Young to her
children and grandchildren. She had learned it as a girl.

YOUNG THOMAS JONES

Young Thomas Jones came home from school with sad and solemn air.
He did not kiss his mother's cheek nor pull his sister's hair.
He hungered not for apples and he spoke in dismal tones;
Twas very clear, misfortune drear had happened to Thomas Jones.

"Oh, Thomas, dear," his mother cried, "pray what is troubling you?
You're hurt, you're ill, you've failed in school; please tell us what to do."
Then Thomas Jones made answer in a dreary sort of way,
"I've got to write an essay on the Indian of today."

For three whole days the library was like a moving van.
"Is Mr. Jones," each caller asked, "a literary man?"
All pleasure paled, all comfort failed and laughter seemed a sin,
For, "Oh, tomorrow," Thomas wailed, "it must be handed in."

At last the voice of Great Aunt Jones came sternly through the door,
"I cannot stand this state of things one single minute more.
The training of a fractious child is plainly not my mission,
But, Thomas Jones, go straight upstairs and write that composition."

Well, Thomas Jones went straight upstairs and sat him down alone.
And though I grant a stranger thing was surely never known,
In two short hours he returned serenely to display
Six neatly written pages on the Indian of today.

The teacher read them to her class and smiled a well-pleased smile.
She praised the simple language, the easily flowing style.
"For while," she said, "he does not rise to any lofty height,
Tis wonderful how easily young Thomas Jones can write."
 

Grandpa Young loved to bounce his little grandchildren on his foot and chant:
"Here go dogs to market town
One foot up and one foot down
When they get to a little fence
Jump! they go over.
This last line was accompanied by his foot shooting up in the air and by delighted squeals from the little one.
 

From Carol Young Williams:
"I don't know if Grandma taught any of you other grandchildren the following verse but it's something I often think about when I have the hiccups."
Hiccup, hiccup, Isaac Jacob
Three times over, cure my hiccup!