William Halls Sr.

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.)

BILL JONES’ HAY RAKE

By William Halls

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.