Nelson Holder Ritchie

An edited history of Nelson Holder Ritchie (1840–1913), written in 1975 by a daughter, Grace Ritchie Ashton, when she was in her seventies. Nelson married as his second wife Annie Cowan Russell (1857–1950), and they were the parents of Olive Ellen Ritchie Cleverly (1881–1945), who was the mother of Ivard R Cleverly (1915–1988), who was my father.

In the year 1840, on August 24, Nelson Holder was born in Lawrence County, Missouri. He told us he was raised by an old Scotch lady, as his mother died when he was a baby and his father died before he was born. Nelson went to Topeka, Kansas, and met a John Ritchie, whom he lived with. The man loved Nelson and wanted to adopt him. Nelson said no, but that he would take his name—Ritchie—because he was so good to him. It was at the close of the Civil War, and Nelson got in on the last part of it. He was in the Cavalry and had a good horse. He had his hat with a few bullet holes in it, but he never was hurt. He was in his twenties at the time of the war.

He was a very good looking man over six feet tall, about 200 pounds, black curly hair, a good clean man. John Ritchie wanted to send Nelson to school, but I never remember why he did not go.

He later met a very lovely girl by the name of Mary Samantha Fullbright and married her about the year 1866. They had a son born in 1871, whom they named John Eddie. Father used to tell us about him. He was only a few weeks old and seemed to be looking at everything in the room. They had a pretty ceiling and he loved to look at that. His wife and baby both died in the year of 1871. Father told us children he always thought an old black Mammy poisoned them.

I don't know where he lived in Kansas at that time, but when our mother came into the picture he was in Great Bend, Kansas. Nelson had gathered around him a big business and was a rich man. He had a hotel and barns with many beautiful horses, and people worked for him. He took the U.S. mail to the trains every day and carried mail back to the town. He had a livery stable where he had horses and carriages for hire, or where people could leave their horses to be fed for a fixed charge. One time little Tom Thumb, who were dwarfs (or very small people), came and stayed at Father's hotel and had their horses taken care of. Tom Thumb was a man who knew what he wanted. He smoked a big cigar. They were cute little people.

It was now six years since Nelson's wife died. One day Nelson was over to St. John, about 25 miles away from Great Bend, visiting with friends named Kindle. There he met a very beautiful young woman who had come from Pennsylvania with a group of people for to build up Zion. William Bigerton was their leader. He was given the priesthood by Sidney Rigdon, who had been cut off The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Well, Nelson fell in love with Annie Russell, and Annie began to think he was a good catch, so she married him December 21, 1876. They lived in a cute pink house not far away from the hotel (I think this house was across the street from the hotel) in Great Bend. The town was on the bend of the river.

Annie soon had her people out there. Her father worked in the coal mines, and she had a brother, William or Billy, as he was called, who was killed in the mine. Her sisters worked in the hotel, and Annie helped with the cooking. They had a French cook, and Mother said she was a good one. One day just when breakfast was about ready, they had a fire. Mother and her sisters swept up the tablecloths with everything in them to save them. They soon had the fire out, but what a mess.

Their first son, Willie, was born December 31, 1877. When he was a year and a half old, he fell off the porch and broke his hip. Father took him to Topeka to a good doctor, but they did not know what was wrong. He died when he was six years old, and then they found out his hip was broken. They had three other children born before Willie died: Olive Ellen, Bertie, and James Alvie. Bertie was before Olive, and he died when he was about two years old. Father felt so bad, here Willie was sick and Bertie taken from them.

Now I must tell about Willie. Not long before his passing, he said to Father that he was going to die and asked him to let him go. Father said, "I can't let you go."

Willie had Mother take him all over the house and said to her, "Do you own this house?"

Mother said, "Yes."

Willie asked, "Do you have plenty to eat, such as pies and other good things to eat?" He was told they had plenty, then he said, "I want you to give my little dog to Grandma Dickens." They started to take the dog when he said, "Not yet." Then Willie told them he loved them both just the same. He still asked his father to let him go, and when Father told him he could go he soon passed away and was free of all the pain he had.

So now Nelson still had James Alvie, and he loved him dearly. He did everything he could for him. Nelson loved children, and they loved him. He was kind and loving to all. Father and Mother had eight children in Kansas: five girls and three boys.

One day May got lost in the high grass and could not find her way out. The whole town turned out to look for her, and when she was found she went to Father and cried saying, "You went right past me and never picked me up!" She was a very quiet child and never called out to her Papa. May and Father loved each other dearly, for when she married and was leaving for Mississippi, she could hardly pull herself away from him, and she said, "If I go away I shall never see you again." She cried, and her husband said, "Come on or we will miss the train." She had a baby a year later there. The baby died, and she died a week later. When the news came, we had to sit Father down, so we could tell him the sad news. A few weeks before this he had a dream and saw a fire coming very fast, and he told us he knew something was wrong. Father died less than ten months after in his sleep, but I have gone ahead of my story.

Father was very good to Mother's people. He helped them get on their feet, and most of them stayed in Kansas. Three sisters went to Kirtland, Ohio, in later years.

Another railroad was talking of coming through Great Bend, and the people wanted to buy Father out. They offered him $80,000 for his place, but Father said it was worth $100,000 to him. Well, they would not give him that. Mother tried to talk him into taking it, but he would not. A few years later another hotel came up in town, and Father spent a lot of money on his and had a man take charge, and before he knew it he had lost all his property. He was bankrupt and lost everything. The railroad never did go through, and the people of the town came to Father and said they were glad he never sold it, for it would have broken the town.

Father worried so much Mother was afraid to leave him alone. One day he told Mother he wanted to go to Old Mexico, and Mother said, "If you want to leave, let's go to Utah."

Why Utah? Well, I forgot to tell about the missionaries coming a while before all this happened. Elder William C. Mann and another elder (I never knew his name) came to see them. Father was a very generous and honest man and believed everyone was that way. These elders taught the gospel of Jesus Christ to them and the family accepted it. The elders stayed with him every time they came to Great Bend. Elder Mann lived in Bountiful, Utah. The name of Father's hotel was the Union Hotel. Over the side of his big barn was "Nelson H. Ritchie."

I must go back a bit. When Nelson wanted to go to war, he had a hard time to get in the service because he had some Cherokee Indian blood from his mother's side. The lady who took care of Nelson when he was young used to say, "You look just like old Vincent, your grandfather." He made it right at the last of the war, and he used to tell us about the boys singing in the camp. He loved to sing and lots of times in later years, when his grandchildren were left with him to be looked after, he would sing to them and they loved it.

Before they left Kansas, Father received a letter from the government telling him he could go to Oklahoma to take up 160 acres of land for each of his children, also himself and his wife. Father went down there to look it over, and when he came back he told Mother that that was no place to take a family to raise. I see now it was a blessing for us all to come to Utah where the Saints are and the House of the Lord.

Nelson and his family came to Utah in 1892 and went to Bountiful to live. They stayed with Elder Mann until they found a house in Centerville a mile away. Father worked for the railroad in Centerville as freight agent. At Centerville another boy was born, and he was named Nelson Holder. He was born October 16, 1893, and died March 19, 1896, in Bountiful and was laid away in Bountiful cemetery. Father was the first person to plant trees and flowers there, but the trees died because they lived too far away to water them.

While they lived in Centerville, Olive, their oldest daughter, had a very bad sickness. There was a pond across the tracks, and she went swimming when she should not. Old Dr. Stringham came to take care of her. At last he told Mother he had done all he could for her and it would be up to the priesthood to save her life. Father at the time was in Salt Lake City on business, and this is what he found when he came home. After the doctor left, Mother and Bessie were sitting watching her, when all at once Olive raised up in bed holding her hands out saying, "Willie, take me with you." Then she turned to Mother and said that Willie was there in the wall with a lot of roses beneath him and that he said she couldn't go with him for she had a lot of work to do here. Olive still cried out for Willie to take her, and then she saw a lady beneath him and said, "Who is that woman down there?" and he said that it was Papa's first wife and "she wants her temple work done."

When Father arrived home, he was told what had happened to Olive, and he could hardly believe it. He asked Olive how the woman was dressed, and Olive told him. Father said, "That is the way I laid her away." And then Olive told them that she asked Willie why this lady looked so sad, and Willie said, "She is not in as high a glory as I am."

The next day Olive opened the door for Dr. Stringham, and she did live a long good life and gave birth to 13 children. She raised all but one who died as a baby, and they all had families except for one son. Olive was a very spiritual-minded person all her life, and everybody loved her. She was kind to all she knew.

Three months and eleven days after Nelson Holder died, Mother had another child, a girl named Grace Samantha. She was born July 11, 1896, in Bountiful, Utah.

Father hurt himself lifting such heavy things that he had to give up the railroad job, and they moved to Beck Hot Springs or now North Salt Lake. We lived in a rock house, and Russell was born there Nov­ember 21, 1898. A month later Olive was married to Henry William Cleverly. She took me to live with them because Mother had this new baby and was not so well. I was going on three years old and lived with Olive until just before her first child was born, which was in November.

Father had a very hard time to keep things to eat, and he did everything he could. He even went up on the mountain to the old McNeil place to raise turkeys, and when they were ready for market someone beat him to it, and he lost them all. Someone stole them.

Then he took a lease on a fruit farm in Provo, now Orem. They made a little on that. I just remember going down there. That was before I went to school. Father came back to Salt Lake City and made a payment on a house just off south Second West south of 13th South. We had a big St. Bernard dog; he was a beauty. We had a lot of fun with him. He went out nights and killed sheep so we had to lose him. That was a hard time for all of us. Father had a little spring wagon and sold fruit and nearly every night when he came home the children came running to see what he had left and always received some little thing, apple or fruit. Father was good to all children. He was very tender hearted and would always say, "Let your mother take care of you" when we were bad.

Now about this time James Alvie could not get work, so he went in the Navy. Because he was under age, Mother and Father had to say they were willing to let him go. I can see my mother crying, and Father stayed out of the picture so he could not see him, as he felt so bad. Alvie left home for four years. He used to write and send $10 home to help pay for the house, but Father had a chance to trade for a place in the mouth of Parleys Canyon. When Alvie found we had moved, he would not send any more money to help out. Mother went to work to help make ends meet. Before we went to Parleys Canyon, Mother had a daughter born April 14, 1903, and she was named Elsie Virginia. She was about two years old when we moved there. Father farmed and raised chickens and pigs, and we had geese, dogs, and cats, a cow sometimes, a horse, and a ginnie, which we kids loved. She was good and kind, and we had some good times with her.

Russell was now about ten years old and a cute boy with light curly hair. One day Father took him to Salt Lake and told him he could look in the store windows till he got ready to come home. It was near to Christmastime, and while he was looking some well dressed lady came and talked with him and saw he was not dressed very well. She asked him where he lived and what his name was, and he told her. When Christmas morning came, you should have seen the lovely things they gave us—things to eat as well as books and toys.

They loved Russell. He was a sweet clean boy, and we used to play ball with our friends around where we lived. Father had a horse called Prince and a dog Bonce. That horse and dog knew how much he loved them, for they loved him. After we left the place and my sister Blanch and her family went to live there, the dog and horse walked away and never did come back again.

Father was a hard working man all his life and a good father and husband. One day I was a bad girl—I don’t remem­ber what I did—but anyway I ran and hid myself under some rose bushes, as we kids had a play house there, and there was an old quilt, and I laid down, and the first thing I knew I was fast asleep. When I came to myself, it was dark, and I kept thinking Father would soon come home, and I would go in the house. We had some geese that always made a big noise when Father came home, but there was no noise, so I began to be afraid a little while when Father let me in. I went to bed and was very sick, I guess from nerves. My mother did not whip me; I guess she felt sorry for me when I was so sick. And to think after Mother and Father had worked hard all day, I had them looking all over the place for me.

Mother worked hard all the time we lived in the canyon. As a little girl I never saw much of her—only at night. Father would say, "Girls, clean up the place so your mother can rest." He used to bring Mother an apple nearly all the time and say he was sorry he didn't have one for all. But we knew how he felt about Mother. Mother used to go to choir practice and take Esther and me with her. That is where I learned to sing all our beautiful songs.

May, my sister, came third in winning a piano, and she paid $250 for it. That was in about 1910. (Today, 1975, I have the piano after all those years.) My father loved music and wished he could have had me take piano lessons. I got a keyboard that helped a lot and could play a little, and I started to learn "Oh, My Father," a song my father loved. Well, after he passed away I learned it, and I feel like I am playing it for him.

Mother loved to read, and she read to us children, which made me read and want to know things for myself. She also taught us to pray. Father was a great man of faith, and he would have us pray, and he prayed always. When Father and Mother were married, he said, "Let's quit drinking coffee and tea and other drinks that we know are not good for us or our children." And they did, and Father always wanted us children to be good and live clean. I remember Mother telling us that in Great Bend a man was going to hang. Father was getting ready to go out with the rest of the town. While he was getting ready, Mother was also, and he asked where she was going.

She said, "With you."

Father said, "Oh, you can't do that."

And she said, "Well, if you go, so do I."

So Father said he wouldn't go, and years later he was happy he never had a part in the hanging.

Father always called my mother Dove. I never heard him call her Annie. It was always Dove or "your mother." He loved her dearly. We always called him Papa. To let you know what kind of man he was, he was going to dig a well and Mother asked him when he was going to do it so we wouldn't have to pack water from the creek or go up the hill to get it. Well, he said that he had changed his mind because if he dug it there then the man up on the hill wouldn't have any water. That was the way he was, always thinking about the other fellow.

I remember when we moved we only had two rooms, and there was a nice shed which with a little help could be put up to the house and give us three more rooms. Father had the shed up to the house, and he needed some strong arm to put it where it belonged. So one day a young man came to Father and said, "I see you need some help," and Father told him that he did, so the man helped him put it in place. The man gave Mother a book and told her to read it, but we were all messed up at the time, and she did not read it. When the man left and things began to look better, she remembered the book but never found it. She never did know what was in it. We always felt like he was sent to help us, as we needed it so badly because all of us children were just little kids at the time. It could have been one of the Three Nephites. As far as I know, my father never turned anyone away who asked for help.

It was in the wintertime and very cold when a man came and asked to stay all night, as he was going to Park City. Father did not like the looks of him, but he took him in and gave him something to eat and made a bed in own bedroom in front of the big fireplace with a fire in it. Father never slept that night for watching that man and the next morning sent him on his way.

Mother, May, and Elsie went to Kansas to see her mother, Elizabeth Householder Russell. Esther, Russell, and Grace were with Father. At this time a big circus was in town, and I wanted to see it. I kept after Father to take us, and he was busy taking care of chickens and pigs. I had a wire in my hands that we could catch chickens with, and I hurt the dog's leg and made him howl. Father could not stand to see us hurt anything. He said, "No circus. When you learn to be good to all things, then I will be good to you."

When I was about seven or eight years old, Mother went to Liberty Park, not too far from where we lived. I wanted to go with her; she was with a lot of other ladies. Well, after she left I got my only dress on, which was red, and I had a little bucket with some bread in it and went to the park looking for Mother. I had all kinds of people asking me to eat with them, and I went from group to group but never did find Mother. By this time it began to get dark, and some people told me they better take me home, and did I know where I lived? I did, so we got nearly out of the park when here came my dear father in his spring wagon to find me. I called out to him, and he thanked the people who were looking out for me. I don't remember what Mother did to me, for I was gone all day (I bet I was dirty).

I was very sick, and Father had to stay away so he could work. He sent a big orange-colored rocking chair to our house, and the men set it half way from the street to our house. That was some chair. Father loved to sit in it.

Years after Father died, we had a nice experience with it. Elsie was about 14 or 15 years old, and some girl from Bountiful came to the house and wanted to go to the dance in Salt Lake. Mother and I said she was too young to go alone to the dance. Elsie began to cry and made a big fuss about it and said she was going, but we told the girl to go home because Elsie could not go. Elsie said she would break the windows and go anyway. Just about that time, this rocking chair began to rock with no one in it. Mother and I both knew Father was there in that chair, and it nearly frightened Elsie to death when she saw it. She settled down and was a much better girl after that. Elsie married on her 17th birthday and had 11 children, two girls who died and nine boys. (In October 1973 I asked Elsie if she remembered the chair rocking, and she said, "I will never forget it." She is now 70 years old.) This experience helped me to know we are very close to the spirit world, and those may be able to help when needed.

I was told in my blessing that I chose my parents before I was born in the world. I have seen my father in dreams telling me things I should do and not do. I saw him in a beautiful white robe. He used to go to church with us and loved to hear J. Golden Kimball speak.

We always went up to Olive and Will Cleverly's place for Thanksgiving dinner, and Father used to heat bricks for us to put our feet on in the wagon. His grandchildren, all who knew him, loved him. He had a way with him that you could not help like or love Nelson Holder Ritchie.

He received his patriarchal blessing on May 13, 1912, just eight months before he died. Nelson Holder Ritchie was 72 years and 5 months old when he died January 28, 1913. His first wife was Mary Samantha Fullbright. She died August 18, 1871. They had one son who died the same year, 1871. He lived in Great Bend, Kansas. At one time he was a very rich man. He married Annie Cowan Russell six years later. They had 12 children. They joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints about the year 1890 and came to Utah in 1892 or 1893 at the time the Salt Lake Temple was dedicated. Nelson was a very good, kind man and loved all men.

Father had cataracts and was in the hospital about two weeks to have them removed. He came home Thursday or Friday and went to the door and called to his horse, Prince, and the horse answered back. They sure did understand each other. Monday night I was reading The Wizard of Oz. It was so good I could not leave it alone and forgot what time it was. I was reading by an oil lamp when Father said, "Grace, go to bed. It's one o’clock."

I said, "All right," and in the morning when I got up at 7:00 a.m. to get ready for school, Mother said, "Girls, your father is dead." He must have passed on as he went to sleep, as he was laying on his back, and a ridge was right down the middle of the bed so that Mother did not touch him all night.

I must tell a few more things. James Alvie went in the Navy for four years. Father loved that boy, and while he had money to do for him he gave him everything. When Alvie went in the Navy and Father took the place in Parleys Canyon, Alvie got going with a fellow there who had it in hor his father, and I guess Jim got to thinking about how Father had never done for him after they came to Utah, so when he came home from the Navy he would not let Father see or talk to him. That was hard on Father because of the love he had for him. When we called Jim to tell him Father had died, he was the first one there and sat there for hours and went to the services and even paid the bill. James Alvie had not forgotten the love he had for Father. Years later one of Alvie's daughters did the same thing to him that he loved much, and when Alvie died Vinnie nearly died herself.

Someday if we all live good lives and repent of all our sins and do the work of the Lord, we will all have a chance to know our father and grandfather and be with him and know for ourselves what kind of a man he was, and our mother, Annie Cowan Russell Ritchie, will be right with him.
Here are the names of their children:

1. William Holder (Willie) was born December 31, 1877, in Great Bend, Kansas, and died March 15, 1884.

2. Bertie Elwood was born April 19, 1879, in Great Bend, Kansas, and died July 12, 1880.

3. Olive Ellen was born March 21, 1881, in Great Bend, Kansas. She married Henry William Cleverly, and they had 13 children, including two sets of twin boys. She died March 28, 1945.

4. James Alvie was born February 12, 1883, in Great Bend, Kansas. He married Millie Shulsen, and they had seven children. He died July 10, 1928.

5. Elizabeth (Bessie) was born November 17, 1884, in Great Bend, Kansas. She married Willis Rogers January 13, 1904, and they had ten children, of whom nine were boys and one a girl. They had one set of twin boys. She died February 10, 1970.

6. Annie May was born December 19, 1886, in Great Bend, Kansas. She married Ivard Rathborn, and they had only one child who died at birth. May died a week later on March 3, 1912.

7. Blanch was born January 12, 1889, in Great Bend, Kansas. She married Charles Edward Davidson, and they had four children. She died while expecting a fifth child on March 28, 1918.

8. Esther was born June 27, 1891, in Great Bend, Kansas. She married Orson Edwards, and they had three children. She died December 23, 1959.

9. Nelson Holder was born October 16, 1893, in Centerville, Utah, and died March 29, 1896.

10. Grace Samantha was born July 11, 1896, in Bountiful, Utah. She married Victor H. P. Gerhardt, and they had two daughters before they divorced. She married Bert Searle, and they had one daughter before they divorced. She married Orvis I. Mann, who died. And finally she married Wilford S. Ashton 23 years later. He was her old sweetheart.

11. Russell Dewey was born November 21, 1898, in Salt Lake City, Utah. He married Lois Elva Myers, and they had one son. Lois died in 1972, and he married Sylvia.

12. Elsie Virginia was born April 14, 1903, in Salt Lake City, Utah. She married Angus Leroy Olson, and they had six children before he died. She then married William Robert Langston, and they had five boys.

At the time of this writing, all of the family are gone except for the last three children—Grace, Russell, and Elsie—who are all in their seventies. There are many grandchildren and great-grandchildren, even to the fourth and fifth generations. So I don't know how many we have who belong to these wonderful people, Nelson Holder Ritchie and Annie Cowan Russell.

Just another little sweet thing Aldus, Blanch's young son, said when Father died he was about three years old. His father and mother lived with us at the time. He happened to get in the room where Father was layed out, and we did not know it. He came out with such big eyes and said, "Papa’s feet cold!" He loved his Papa so very much, as Father used to care for him and sing to him when he was baby-sitting.

We went up the canyon in Parleys, and the road was not very wide. We came to a very narrow place in the road, where we met another man on a load of logs. We tried to give him all the room we could so we would not go down in the ditch, but this load of logs tipped over, and the man, a Mr. Bullock, got his leg broken. Father did all he could to help him. I believe he even took him down to his home in Sugar House and helped him.

I remember when we had such a lot of pigs, and the meanest one got out of the pen. Before Father could get his pitchfork, the pig took after him. He turned to run and caught his foot in a wire and fell flat. Then Father called a dog we had by the name of Rover, and that is all that saved Father's life. It was not long after that he killed the pig, and we had a lot of good meat from him.

When the creek got high water, Father used to watch it, as the train to Park City crossed it. He stopped the train lots of times for them to see if it was safe to go over. He was always thinking of someone else.

When Father lived in Kansas he belonged to the Masons. I have an apron Father had, and it has the all-seeing eye and horn of plenty and birds and other things on a white hide of some kind with blue all around it, with an envelope piece across it, with a sash. Our father, as I was told, was a very high Mason in the order. Father told me when he first came to Utah and lived in Salt Lake City, he used to have his Mason pin on, and he got so many high signs of distress that he could not take care of them all, so he threw his pin away. I am sorry, I wish I had it with my apron.

This order came down from the time of Solomon's temple, and each man is to help his brother. That is why the Prophet Joseph Smith joined the Masons. Did they help him? No, they killed him and never lived up to their own teachings.

I have a picture, which was sent to me from our cousin, Earl Lynch. It is of our father's big barn in Great Bend, Kansas. It has "N. H. Ritchie" across the front, with horses and buggies and some men who worked for Father, and Father standing near a beautiful horse. I was very happy to get this picture. I am sorry it was late coming to me, as I did want Bessie to see it. But she was not able to.

We lived in Sugar House for a while because we lived so far away from the street car. May worked in the telephone company nights, so Father moved us down there so she would be close to the street car, and most of the time Father was up at the old place alone taking care of his chickens and pigs. May had an operation, and I remember Ivard, the man she later married, used to come and see her. That is the house we lived in when Alvie came home from the Navy and where he would not see Father. Well, he lived to regret it. No boy could have had a better father than we had. When he married his wife, Alvie's wife said that Alvie was like a baby name, and she called him Jim, as his name was James Alvie.

While we were in Sugar House, I wanted to go up to the old place and asked if I could take the horse and buggy and was told no. Well, I made up my mind I would go anyway, so out I went and got ready and started out the back way and only went about 200 feet when the horse fell down and broke the buggy, and I had to go back and ask Father to help. Well, he was not hard on me. He only said, "If you had listened, this would not have happened." I often think how kind and good Father was to us all.

He used to do express work. He always was on West Temple and Second South, and he picked up quite a bit of work that way. Someone asked him to bring something up on First Avenue, and I remember it was cold and ice on the streets. Old Prince could not go up that hill, so Father got out and placed sacks so the horse could walk up that hill. And that horse did just that, stepped on those sacks. Father was very good to everything he had on the place.

I can't remember Father ever being sick. I know when I was sick how good he and Mother were to me when I was about seven or eight years old.

Another thing I remember, the girls used to go to the Hadley place, not far away, to play cards with their children. That family were not the kind of people Father wanted his girls to be friends with, so one time Father came over to where they were playing cards and said for them to come home, and on the way home he said, "If you want to play cards, do it in our home." I don't remember their going there anymore.

Bessie was soon married, and May was going to school. Blanch was not a well girl but would never say anything and do the work. I just do remember this, but Father would help his children with the work because Mother was working also, and Father helped in the house so Mother could rest when she came home. Father felt bad because Mother had to work away from home to help the family, but Mother was always willing to do her part. But they both had a hard life after they came to Utah to make a living, as work was hard to get.

I thank God that they joined the Church and came to Utah.

When Father died, we had him home all the time. It was on January 28, 1913, very cold and icy, and we could hardly get up the grade, as we lived in a low place and had a small hill to climb, and the horses could hardly get up there. We went to Parleys Ward about a mile or so away, and that little church was so full no more could get in it. Sister Cook sang "Oh, My Father" and "Somewhere," and Uncle William C. Mann spoke, also Bishop Whitaker. I don’t remember who prayed. Then we took Father to Bountiful to his resting place, a place he bought in 1896 to lay away another little son. The lot was large enough for eight people, and right as you go in the graveyard, Nelson Holder, Mother, James Alvie, Esther, and my daughter Ruth, who got burned, and Father. He was always looking ahead to help others. Elsie gave us a little tree, and we planted it there, and now it is a beautiful, big tree. Mother also put a headstone. There is still room for two more, so I hope to be laid away there.

I had a dream a few years ago. I dreamed I was in a big room, and there were many children laughing and playing. As I stood looking around, I saw a door ahead of me, and a man came in with his hand over most of his face. And the thought went through my mind, "Is that my father?" Then he took his hand away, and it was Nelson Holder Ritchie, my father, in a beautiful white robe.

I ran over to him and put my arms around him and could feel his body and laughed and said how glad I was to see him. He smiled and said, "Come, meet my wife." As we walked the children were still having a wonderful time and were so happy. We came to where a lady sat, and she looked a lot like my sister Elsie, and Father said, "I want you to meet my daughter, Grace Ritchie."

She looked up at me and never said anything. We walked away and came to a table where Father was doing something there, and I said, "Father, let me do that."

He said, "Oh, I can do it," but I insisted, and he said, "Oh, I believe I will" and walked away. Then I awoke, and I did not remember what it was I was going to do for him. It has made me wonder, so I may have to humble myself and ask my Father in Heaven what it was I told him I would do.

I have often wondered if my father was already resur­rected, as I felt his body so vividly.

When we lived near Beck's Hot Springs (that is where Russell was born and where Olive was married), one night a man came to the door and asked for something to eat, and Mother and Father had him come in and set him up to the table. He thanked them for the food and left. After Mother had a feeling he was different. It was a beautiful clear moonlit night, and she asked Alvie to go out and see where that man went to. He did and walked all around and could not find him and came in and said he was nowhere to be seen. Then they felt they had a wonderful visitor at their home. He could have been one of the Three Nephites who was given the right to live till the Savior should come again on the earth.

Father always said it is better to help and feed all men than to turn one away, for we never know who we may have visit us. Angels unaware.