Louisa Carritt Enderby

In June 1877, Grandfather became First Counselor to Bishop Francis A. Hammond of the Huntsville ward.

On the 8th of January 1880, eight and one-half years after his second marriage, Grandfather married his third wife, Eleanor Howard, an attractive school teacher from Salt Lake City. I think she was about thirty-two years old. She has been referred to as an old maid. Eleanor came to live very near Grandma, and she became even a sharper thorn in Grandma’s side than Johanna. I think, in spite of everything, Grandma had a certain sympathy for Johanna (she thought of her as an ignorant young thing), but not for Eleanor. In April 1881, Eleanor gave birth to a daughter, and in March 1884, conveniently died and cleared the air for all concerned, not the least of whom may have been herself. Grandmother took Eleanor’s child to rear. In all of this, while my sympathies are naturally with my own sex, still, I cannot quite dispel a rather tender feeling of appreciation of my poor Grandfather’s untenable position. He was so thoroughly imbued with a desire to serve the Lord and to support the authorities, without reservation, that when they urged the brethren to accept the God-given law of polygamy, to him there could be no alternative. The unfortunate repercussions were scarcely to be laid at his door.

Early in 1885, the Church organized the San Juan Stake of Zion in southeastern Utah and Grandfather was called on a mission to help build up San Juan County. He was set apart as the First Counselor in the new Stake Presidency and former Bishop of Huntsville, Francis A. Hammond, became the Stake President. Grandfather had a long and rewarding association with President Hammond, whom he loved and respected as possibly no other man, and his years of serving with him were among the happiest of Grandfather’s life. Grandpa took with him to San Juan, his second wife and the eight children who had been born to them in Huntsville. They helped build up the little town of Bluff, Utah. However, they remained in Bluff only a year and then moved on to Mancos, Colorado. In Mancos, Grandpa engaged in farming and stock-raising, which, here again, he turned over mostly to his boys, so that he might spend his time in the ministry. For eight years, he acted as Stake Tithing Clerk. He was a Director in the District Schools of Mancos for nine years, and was Superintendent of Schools for Montezuma County for two terms. He also acted as Justice of the Peace for several years in the Mancos precinct.

Grandfather never again returned to Huntsville to live. He came on fairly frequent visits and was enthusiastically received by his first family, even by Grandma herself, for she couldn’t get over loving him–and I’m sure she must have tried. It was at this stage of his life–on his visits to Huntsville when I was a child–that my mother and we children became acquainted with Grandpa. My father and his brothers built for their mother a neat little blue frame house (or was it gray?) on the same lot with our town house. In the summer we lived at the farm. A well-kept garden with rhubarb that poked bright pink noses out of the ground in the spring, and gooseberry bushes, separated our house from Grandma’s. There was a well-worn path connecting our houses. Father and his brothers took care of Grandma and supported her, just as Grandfather expected them to do. 

On the 25th of November 1900, Grandfather and President Hammond met with an accident while riding in a horse-drawn carriage. Grandfather sustained only slight injuries, but President Hammond was mortally hurt. At President Hammond’s death, Grandfather assumed the responsibilities of Acting Stake President until September 1901, at which time Platt D. Lyman was called as President, and Grandfather again became First Counselor. But President Lyman died in a few weeks, leaving Grandfather again in charge, until May 1902. Walter C. Lyman was then chosen president and Grandfather, for the third time, became the First Counselor, which office he held for a good number of years. In 1908, he was ordained a Patriarch by President Lyman, which office it would appear he held in conjunction with that of Counselor to the Stake President. He came to Huntsville when I was about eight and gave Patriarchal blessings to my mother, my older sister Violet, and me. He told me Satan would seek to destroy me, and he about succeeded then and there. However, Grandpa did give me the encouraging word that if I would obey my parents and be “prudent”–and that’s his exact word–I would live to grow up, a worthwhile accomplishment from my point of view, and so I got busy being prudent in a hurry. Grandpa’s Patriarchal blessings were a work of art. Although he had had little formal schooling, having learned to read and spell from his mother. He was a precise, excellent penman; his command of the English language was likewise excellent, although he was largely self-taught. He had a remarkable vocabulary and his use and choice of words was very effective. One summer at the ranch, where at that time we had no indoor plumbing, he came down the stairs one night and poked his head around the door to the dining room where Mother and some of the family were seated and said quietly, “Celia, there is no “vessel” in my room.” That turned out to be one of our family jokes. Imagine calling an ordinary “toidy mug” a “vessel.” In our more refined moments, we called it a “chamber.” I’ve heard it called other names, too, but never a “vessel.”

He had a natural gift for speaking and writing, and a profound knowledge of the gospel. He had an alert, analytical mind, and a priceless sense of humor that often manifested itself in a delightful manner in his speech and writing. He knew when he was being funny and his eyes fairly glittered in a unique manner I have never seen in anyone else, except his daughter by his third wife, my Aunt Lottie, whom we all loved dearly. She was a lot like him and was always great fun to be with because of her humorous point of view, accompanied by what, in a woman, might be described as “roguish” eyes. They danced when he was being her characteristically entertaining self. And so it was with Grandpa. But Mama used to think he was ever so conceited because he knew of and appreciated so well his own engaging personality.

In 1911, he compiled and published in a little volume, some of the gospel articles and poems which he had written. With characteristic modesty, he titled this book “Select Writings.” We had a great number of these books stored in our home, and we gave them out indiscriminately to anyone and to everyone who would carry one off. We children had little appreciation for his literary work–we made all manner of jokes about “Grandpa’s book,” particularly about his poems. He wrote these poems about homely subjects with which he was familiar, which all good authors agree is a smart approach. At one time, when I was at home in Ogden and the folks were at the ranch in Idaho, a letter came from Grandpa, and I told them in forwarding it that I hadn’t opened it for fear of a poem. Sure enough, I found later that there as a poem in it–on the stimulating subject of how many thousand bowls of “mush” he had eaten during his lifetime. I marvel a little now, in retrospect, that Papa took all our joking about Grandpa so good-naturedly. Many a conscientious father, I think, would have reprimanded us for such disrespect of our own grandfather, no less. I suppose Papa knew we would grow up. Now, in this year of our Lord 1970, “Grandfather’s Book” is at a great premium in the family. Everybody wants a copy. The great-grandchildren, in marked contrast to us, clamor for a copy of their very own. I have had numerous calls inquiring if by any possible good chance I have an extra copy. I have managed, through sheer good fortune and certainly no forethought on my part, to keep a copy in my possession. I now guard it as I do my fire insurance policy, just short, that is, of keeping it in my safe deposit box at the bank. Papa lived to be 95, long enough to see some of us shape up a little. What a wise parent he was, not to try to shape us prematurely.

In 1909, our family moved from Huntsville to Ogden. We left Grandma in Uncle John’s care. Her only blood daughter, Elizabeth Wangagard, also lived in Huntsville and watched over her mother as only a daughter can. Two years later, early in 1911, Grandma became very ill. She had suffered all her adult life with asthma. Her house always smelled of tar. Her pantry window sill was perpetually filled with little mugs of various evil-smelling concoctions that fascinated us children. She always had those hard, round old-fashioned peppermints on hand. Perhaps they helped her breathing, but we thought she kept them as a treat for us. After two or three months of gradually growing worse, it became painfully apparent that Grandma was not going to recover. We have since wondered if she may have been suffering from diabetes. Then came a day when she could no longer rise from her bed. The end seemed near. The doctors could do nothing–they didn’t understand her case. She asked for Grandpa. He was sent for immediately and told that she was dying. He came, of course, but he took his own sweet time about it. It took him two weeks. Every day she asked and every day was told that he had not yet arrived. She clung on for another day. She refused to die until she had once more looked into the dear face of the man she had never ceased to love–the man to whom she was sealed for time and for all eternity–the man who had given her such joy and yet such sorrow! He finally arrived, cool and, on the surface at least, emotionally undisturbed. He seemed little moved by her intense devotion to him. But she was overjoyed at the sight of him. She seemed to forget all the unhappiness, all the anguish; she knew only that her beloved William was there. He had come to her in her final hour of need, and nothing else mattered.

(Continued)

After all the years of denying him, she actually asked him to share her bed again–to hold her once more in his arms. I find this winding up scene very pathetic. I can’t say whether he had to swallow his pride, remembering those humiliating nights spent on the living room couch, but to his credit be it said that he was able to subdue any such feelings, and certainly his naturally practical nature, and indulge her in this last frivolous whim. He spent the night with her and she died the next day, at the age of seventy. She was buried in the Huntsville cemetery in my father’s family plot. I recall that my own mother, daughter of a practical, hard-headed, New England Yankee, watching this performance, felt moved upon to instill, perhaps unwittingly, into my youthful mind, that it was a most desirable situation for the distaff side of the family to carry the lesser torch. She herself wholeheartedly subscribed to this premise. As a direct result of that early maternal influence, I often today find myself counseling young ladies of my acquaintance, who complain that they are not quite as intent in their feelings, that it is a very gratifying feeling to be well loved rather than always doing the lion’s share of the loving oneself. I am reminded of the heroine in a modern play, who made a classic statement that has remained with me. She said, “I always seem to think that when a girl really cares about a man, it puts her at a great disadvantage and no good can come of it.”

But I digress. Coming back to my grandfather: I don’t know what his romantic relationship with his second wife may have been, but I seriously doubt that any woman, however clever, was capable of taking his mind off himself and his purposes for any length of time. So, that I don’t suppose Grandmother had any basis for jealousy of either his second or his third wife. If she really was determined to be jealous of someone or something, perhaps she might have more appropriately settled on the Church. The Church was his first love and his last; he was utterly devoted to it. Truly it can be said that he spent his life in his Master’s service.

Johanna died two and a half years later, in 1913, at the age of fifty-eight. Grandpa lived on in Mancos until his death in 1920 at the age of eighty-six. I was on a mission in the Eastern States, stationed in Boston, at the time of his passing. With the letter that brought me word of his death was a check and the explanation that he had left me this money for the carrying on of the missionary work that had been so dear to his heart and so much a part of his life. With the letter and the check in my hand, I wept for the kindly old man who had been my grandfather. Regardless of his peculiarities, whether he was handsome or not, conceited or humble, he was my “Grandpa,” and I loved him. As my own years advance and my values begin to jell, I become more convinced that William Halls was quite a man!

A Note By Ernest Mosiah Hall

Louisa’s oldest grandson. Son of Mosiah Hall

From the time I was thirteen to nineteen years of age I went to Huntsville every summer to work on the ranch. I was always welcome at Grandma’s. She had an extra cot in her small frame house. I left my clean clothes and best suit there. There I spent my Sundays, got ready for dances, which I attended on holidays and practically every Saturday night since I was keeping company with Lizzie 0. McKay the latter part of the period.

Grandma was quite bitter over being left by William while he took his younger second wife, Johanna Frandsen, to Mancos. Uncles William and Thomas went with them. The departure on March 7, 1885 was just one month before I was born. Louisa was rather frail with narrow sloping shoulders. She dressed neatly at all times. Her house was always immaculately clean with homemade rag carpets on the floors. She was an excellent cook. She made a currant bun that I liked very much. When I was around she always had a crock of these on hand. Her bread was also delicious, usually a light graham loaf.

I realize now that Louisa had serious asthma. Every morning she would start coughing about five o’clock. There would be one paroxysm after another. About seven o’clock her cough would subside apparently after coughing up an irritating infectious material. She would then arise and start the breakfast. When I got dressed, I would see her sitting by the stove looking pale and wane. She would be wheezing and breathing with evident distress. Her appetite was poor, especially in the morning. She would have a small bit of cooked cereal and some tea with a thin piece of toast.

She would never feel up to much until about ten o’clock. During the afternoon she would feel able to read, sew or work a bit about the house. On Sunday afternoon she went to Sacrament meeting. She put on her black dress and bonnet. The meeting house was only three blocks away. She would walk very primly, seldom speak to anyone unless they first spoke to her. She would usually sit by herself. When the services were over she would get up, walk out and home without looking to right or left.

Cottonwood trees lined the ditch bank on the west and south of her house. In the spring when the cotton-like seeds were flying through the air, her asthma was much worse. At times she had great difficulty in breathing.

Of course, I knew Grandma at an earlier period, too. When I was four years old, my father, Mosiah, was made head of the Huntsville school. We lived there for five years. During the earlier years, Louisa lived on the farm. Lottie and I spent many happy days there. She is four years my senior and she lead out in many minor escapades. We used to slide down the snow-crusted hills south of the farm house in Grandma’s dishpan. In the summer we gathered chokecherries on these same hills. Grandmother made chokecherry jelly and wine. I remember on one occasion Lottie and I got a bit tipsy on the wine we surreptitiously obtained.

Later Grandmother moved back into town. She lived in a small house only a short distance from us. At this time Uncle John was keeping company with Mary J. Grow. They were married later and John and his bride went to Idaho to pioneer in developing the Idaho ranch.

Grandmother was a very shy woman. She was greatly hurt when her husband, whom she so dearly loved, left her to go with his younger wife and growing family to a far away place. I think she was greatly embarrassed and hurt. She led a lonely and austere existence. She was ill and needed loving care and companionship.

Recollections by Nina Halls Braithwaite
A granddaughter, daughter of William Halls, Jr.

I wish I could tell you more about Grandmother Louisa Halls. Because I had barely turned eleven when she died, my knowledge of her was meager. Grandmother lived in a small two-roomed white home with a porch or pantry, as I remember it. Grandfather was living in Colorado. We children did not visit her often. I only remember being in her home a few times, other than when she died. I don’t remember her visiting with us. My mother visited her. When we did go there we knew we must sit quietly and allow the older folks to do the talking. Her house was immaculate. A little four-legged range shone like a mirror. Nothing was out of place. Grandmother was cheerful and I gathered from discussions of her that she had a keen sense of humor. I remember her as being kind and serving us cookies from a cookie jar. My mother spoke kindly of her so far as I can remember, indicating to me that she was congenial so far as family was concerned. She had dark straight hair, parted in the middle and combed back as was the fashion, I suppose, of older people. The little house she lived in still stands and is as neat looking as when she lived there.

(Note: William Halls wrote several articles which appeared in the Church publication, The Improvement Era. Several of these articles and other writings were published in a book called Selections from the Writings of William Halls. Most of the articles were related to Gospel teachings, however, one of the poems he wrote was a humorous one, Bill Jones’ Hay Rake. Also included here are two other pieces that he wrote.)

From Selections from the Writings of William Halls, Deseret News Press, Salt Lake City, Utah 1911, pp. 145-7.

Bill Jones, about as patient a man as ever pressed the sod,
Had his patience, ever buoyant, brought humbly ‘neath the rod.
Bill Jones was just a farmer, a good one in his way.
He raised a family of “kids,” plus some of grain and hay.
His wife was just as good as he, in spirit and in letter,
And in her modest estimate, no doubt a trifle better.

One night, in meditative mood, he to his couch retired.
He couldn’t sleep for solemn thought; he felt he was inspired.
He nudged his wife, and voiced this thought, in accents firm and clear,
Said he, “I’ve something in my head; it may be an idea.”
“A what?” said Dinah, roused at last, “What now, for goodness sake?”
Said he, “l have a half a mind to go and buy a rake.
I’ve borrowed Tim’s till I am tired, and so I think I’ll end it.
The last time that I broke his rake, he thought I ought to mend it.”
Said she, “Now Bill, hear me for once, to borrow’s but a bubble.
It’s when you’ve got a rake to lend, you meet substantial trouble.”

Next day he went and bought a rake, his wife adjudged him crazy.
He raked his hay and smiling said, “Now isn’t she a daisy?”
He gave his note with two percent, for ninety days I vow,
And when it reached maturity, it took their brindle cow.

One day his neighbor, Simon Slack, came sauntering along.
Said he, “You’ve got a way-up rake, it must be mighty strong.
My hay is just a dryin’ up; I’d like right smart to rake it.
I’ll take good care and bring it back, if you but let me take it.”
Said Bill, “I guess I’ll let her go, seein’ it is you.
Take good care and bring it back, as soon as you are through.”

He raked his hay all right, and said, “Now, I will be a dunce,
If I don’t try this brand new rake, and see if it will bunch.”
An ordinary rake is made, as everybody knows,
Only just to rake the hay, and leave it in windrows;
But Simon jumped upon the rake, and bunched his hay quite fine.
He bent the gudgeons out of true, the main shaft out of line.

He quite forgot to oil the rake, and keep the burrs all tight.
The burrs came loose, some bolts were lost, and gone clean out of sight.

BILL JONES’ HAY RAKE

(Continued)

When next Bill went to use his rake, it wobbled with a jerk.
It wouldn’t rake, it wouldn’t dump, in short, it wouldn’t work.
And as Bill took it to the shop to get it straightened out,
That his patience was a little bent, I haven’t any doubt.
The blacksmith said, “This is the worst affair I ever knew.
You leave it till tomorrow; I’ll see what I can do.”
When Bill then went to get his rake, and asked about the charge,
“Seven dollars; and you may think that that is rather large,
But it was the toughest job that I have ever found.
I’ll take my pay in butter, at twenty cents a pound.
I’ll be easy on you, seein’ you’re a neighbor.
I’ll throw in all the bolts and screws, and charge just for my labor.”

When Bill went home and told his wife, it caused no little splutter.
Said she, “You know old brindle’s gone; how can we spare the butter?
Now we shant have one speck to eat, for seven weeks or more.”
And then she cussed the rake and Bill, once, twice, thrice, o’er and o’er.
But things soon went all smooth again, with scarcely any flutter,
And Dinah learned the useful art of cooking without butter.

One day, Tim Jenkins came along, and said to neighbor Bill,
“My old hay rake is just give out, I’d like you, if you will,
To lend me yours a little while, I’m very nearly through.
I hate worst kind to borrow, but I don’t know what to do.”
Now Bill had often borrowed Tim’s; he could well say no;
And though it tried his tender heart, he had to let it go.

Tim raked his hay; was coming back, without a thought of ill.
Tom Williams said, “I want that rake, it’s all right with neighbor Bill.”
Tom raked his hay, and left the rake a standing on the field.
Joe Corgan came and hauled it off; it wobbled–fairly reeled.

Two weeks of patient waiting, the rake did not come back.
Bill hitched onto his wagon, and started on its track.
He traced it up to Tim and Tom, and when he came to Joe,
Said he, “I may have seen your rake, but really I don’t know.
About three miles down the river, the boys are makin’ hay.
They may have taken your old rake; I really couldn’t say.”
Bill started off with heavy heart; the rake was broken down!
He put it in his wagon, and hauled it off to town.
The blacksmith said, “This is a case where it’s too late to mend.
Better buy a new one, Bill, be cheaper in the end.”

He left the rake, and told his wife how he had learned with sorrow,
By a short, but sad experience; it’s cheaper far to borrow.

WHAT THE LETTERS OF THE ALPHABET MEAN TO ME
WHAT WORDS DO THEY STAND FOR THAT ARE WORTHWHILE

Let A stand for Affections for father, mother, brothers and sisters, wife, children and all humanity.

B for Benevolence, to lift up the fallen, help the distressed, and comfort the sorrowful.

C for Courtesy, to help me through the world, to smooth my pathway, to make me friends.

D for Duty to God, to family, to neighbor, to friend, to the Ordinances of the Gospel, to Divine Authority, to all the Covenants in the House of the Lord, for the living and the dead, to the sealings for Time and all Eternity.

E for Equity, give everyone an equal privilege with us, respect to person.

F for Faith, in God, in Christ, in the Divine Mission of Joseph Smith, in all the Ordinances of the Gospel, and in the gifts of the Gospel, to resist evil, and to obey all the Commandments of God.

G for Gratitude, to God for all His goodness, to my family and friends, for their love and kindness to me, for the joy the Gospel gives us in this life, and the hope of Eternal Life, in the world to come.

H for Honesty, to live within my means, to pay all my debts, not to want something for nothing, to earn my living, and help the needy.

I for Individuality, I must live my own life, fill my own mission, work out my own salvation, and do my part in the world’s work.

J for Judgment in all things temporal and spiritual, in the food I eat, the clothes I wear, the company I keep, the books I read, to choose the good, and refuse the evil, lest I make mistakes that may give me sorrow and disappointment.

K for Knowledge, of God and Christ, of the way that leads to joy in this life, and eternal life, in the first resurrection.

L for Love, the great all conquering power, by love of God’s rules in all His dominions, by love Christ died that we might live. It is mother love that sustains all mortal life, true love never dies; it is Eternal. If I love God, I will do His will and become like Him.

M for Meekness, I must put away pride and vanity, and feel my dependence on the mercy and grace of God to overcome my weaknesses and resist evil.

N for Nobility, I must never yield to anything mean and vulgar, I must strive for a seat with priests and kings in the Glory of the Celestial Kingdom.

O for Obedience, to God and Christ, to all the laws of God, to the Priesthood, in Divine Authority, to all the Ordinances of the Gospel and to the laws of the State and Nation. It is my only safety. All things are governed by law.

P for Purity, I must be clean, it is the pure in heart that shall see God and dwell in His presence. I will watch and pray, lest I enter into temptations and become defiled and be cast out.

Q for Quietude, I must be calm, not fret nor worry, but trust in God, and I will never be forsaken. God is my Father and Friend.

R for Reverence for God and Christ, for the Priesthood and Divine Authority, for the Endowments and sealings in the Holy Temple for the living and the dead, and never by word, or deed, or thought, treat any sacred principle with levity, but let the solemnity of Eternity rest upon me, lest I grieve the Spirit and darkness come on me.

S for Service for God and humanity, I will take upon me the yoke and follow Christ, and when called give my time, labor, and means in preaching the Gospel, gathering Israel, the building up of Zion, to prepare for the Kingdom of Heaven to come to earth.

T for Truth, the knowledge of things as they are, as they were, and as they are to come, I will speak the truth, live the truth, and seek to know the truth, and be free from the powers of Satan.

U for Usefulness, in my family, in the ward, I will help all I can to make the world a better place to live in.

V for Virtues that is dearer than life, if I love my life it will, by the Atonement of Christ, be restored, but if I lose my virtue it can never be restored. My Virtue is my passport into the presence of the Sanctified. Without it I am cast out, Lord help me to retain my Virtue that I may enter into the marriage feast with robes of purity, with no stain on my garments.

W for Wisdom, a precious gift, without wisdom knowledge may be misused, power may be used to destroy, instead of to save. Wisdom comes from God, it cannot be learned in schools. Money will not buy it, knowledge of knowing good and evil, often chooses the evil, wisdom always chooses the good.

X for Xyster, which I hope I will never need.

Y for Yes, will I serve God with undivided heart, I hope I may answer Yes, will I be faithful to the end, I hope Yes, will I always be true to God, and my family, and friends, I hope Yes. Do I acknowledge the hand of God over me from childhood, I answer Yes, with all my heart.

Z for Zion, may my home be in Zion, with the pure in heart, with my family and friends, under the protecting care of my Heavenly Fathers is my humble prayer.