98 (A brief history of the life of Mary Ann Doige written by her daughter Dora Burnham) My mother, Mary Ann Doige, was born in Brayshop, England, April 11, 1837. She was the daughter of a prosperous merchant and had always lived a care-free life, having only to work as she desired. She was never an idler, however, but assisted in clerking in the store and in preparing lunches for miners. She had a fair education for her time, being well versed in Bible Scripture as that book was used as a text for reading. She was also a good writer and speller. A child of nature she loved to roam over the green rolling hills of the country-side gathering wild berries and nuts that were to be found in the woods and flowers that grew in such abundance everywhere. It was in that country that May Day had its origin because of the many flowers that bloomed at that time in spring. When my mother was about twenty years of age she was attending a funeral service and while at the cemetery was attracted by the sweet singing of another funeral being held near by. She drew close, stood listening to the beautiful hymn, "O' My Father" sung by two Mormon missionaries who were performing the service. They observed her interest and asked her if she would like to visit some of their meetings. She accepted, more to hear them sing at first, but later she became interested in their message. She would often give the Elders money, but only secretly as her folks were very much opposed to the Mormons. Finally she joined the Church at the cost of being turned out of her lovely home, never to enter it again. This must have caused her mother deep grief and probably caused her premature death only four years later. So Mary Ann Doige faced a cold world alone. She was forced to make her own living for several years. She met Joseph Barker, my father, and they were married at Stone House, Devonshire, England, 11 June, 1860. He was baptized into the Church just a few days previous to their marriage. A year later my oldest sister, Sarah, was born and when she was but a year old, my parents, who had long had the spirit of emigrating to Utah, boarded an old sailing vessel en route to America. She had previously weaned her own baby and nursed another baby to procure money to make the trip. It took them six weeks to make the trip as they met great storms that would drive the vessel back for days at a time. When they reached New York their next problem was to get to Utah. My father found a chance to drive someone else's team and wagon across the plains, so went on ahead of mother. She followed three weeks later with another company, paying for a chance to have her baby and luggage hauled across by doing the laundry for the captain and his family. She was obliged to walk most of the way from New York to Utah. This was very hard after having been raised in luxury. One day she had washed the clothes in the morning before starting on the journey, and when the company camped for noon she hung the clothes out to dry before getting her lunch. Soon the call came to move on, as there was no water to be found. So after gathering the clothes, she had to do without her lunch. That afternoon as she trudged on the waery way, she became discouraged and wondered why she had done all this, having given up her lovely home and every living relative, her friends and all that she had, to go to a wild, unbroken country, not knowing what she had to meet. She felt that she didn't really know that the Gospel was true. She fletched to think that the sacrifice was so great. 99 That evening she again hung the clothes out to dry and while preparing something for the evening meal, the call came for prayers. While crossing the camp ground to the place where the company was gathered for prayers, weakness overcame her and she stumbled and fainted. During the time before she regained consciousness, her spirit left her body and she went to the spirit world. While there she met many relatives and friends whom she knew to be dead. A girl friend of Mother's who had recently passed away, took her by the hand and guided her around to see old friends and meet new ones. They all seemed to be engaged in school where the rudiments of learning was being taught. Members of the company worked with her for about an hour before she regained consciousness. That experience gave my mother renewed faith and a stronger testimony of the Gospel. Next morning she again trudged on her weary journey; but the way seemed easier, knowing for sure that there was a hereafter where she would again meet her people and be free from all earthly cares. When the company arrived at Utah, and mother joined her husband, they met the Moody family, friends they had known in England, who took them into their humble home until they could get a place for themselves. They were surely friends indeed, giving my parents a haven of rest after their long journey. But it was a hard life they had to face. My father had been a tailor in England and knew nothing about farming. He herded sheep and did any work that he could find. Mother went out washing, doing a long full day's work in the old hard way for a pan of flour or a quart of molasses. They struggled on this way while they were raising their family, which increased to six girls. Sometimes mother would take the oldest children with her to glean in the fields or to pick up potatoes, anything that they could find, to make a living. Also spinning the cloth for our clothes. It was not until my fifth child was a baby that they could get a stove, having cooked over an open fireplace until that time. She also purchased one of the first sewing machines that were invented, the Howe, about the same time. They were living in Parowan, Utah and father hauled produce by wagon into Pioche, Nevada. Before I was born my parents made the trip from Parowan to Salt Lake City by wagon to go to the Endowment House. When I was ten months old, my father decided to leave Parowan and live in Pioche. He consulted the matter with my mother who disapproved. One trip hauling freight, he did not come back but sent for my mother to go to him. She consulted the Bishop about it and he advised her not to take her family of young girls into a mining town to raise them, so she was obedient to counsel at the cost of be¬coming separated from my father. So for many years mother hoed her row alone. She taught school in her own house taking produce of any kind in payment to help support her family. She would receive a piece of leather from one patron while another would sew it into shoes in payment for his children attending school. She also taught writting school to the adults at evening time. Finally she tired of the struggle alone. She obtained a divorce from my father and married in polygamy to James Dunton. Her four oldest girls were put in other homes to work for their living. James Dunton, with his family, were called to help settle the San Juan country, He came with the first company, down that perilious narrow gorge called the "Hole in the Rock'' as was described in the Era about two years ago. The gorge was chiseled so that their wagons could get through and as there was snow on the ground they 100 shoveled sand over the snow so that the horses could make the steep incline without disaster. The marks left by the hubs of the wheels still may be seen as a reminder of what our early pioneers went through in answer to Brigham Young's call to colonize the West. Their teams and wagons were driven out on large rafts and ferried across the great Colorado river at a place above what is now called Lee's Ferry today. When father Dunton left to go back to get his family he dis¬tributed the grain he had left among the company saying, "I have my gun and I won't starve.". The next fall we went over the same trail, down the narrow gorge. Besides my mother and stepfather, there was my sister Ella, my half brother John, who had been born since my mother's second marriage, and I, The four older girls remained in Parowan where they could work for their living. They followed two years later. I was seven years old at the time of the journey. I well remember coming down through the Hole in the Rock, of them throwing dirt on the solid rocks, locking all four wheels, the men holding back on the wagons while the horses guided them down the treacherous gorge. We took along what household furniture we could so we had to walk most of the way to spare the horses. When we were going through Comb Wash, with the rain coming in torrents we met a band of Indians coming shouting and whooping. I was so frightened that I crawled down in the wagon and covered my head with the quilts. The place where we stopped for the first winter was called Montezuma Fort. It was built in a square with all the houses touching each other. This was done for protection from the Indians. During the winter at Montezuma Fort the men dug ditches to the farms they had taken along the river, and made large water wheels to lift the water from the river and oust it into the ditches. But when the high waters came in the spring, they washed away the water wheels and all their work was in vain. The people were obliged to leave there and look for new wilds to conquer. Later when I went back over the same route the river was running through the place where the Fort had stood. How we ever lived through that first winter, I do not know, but I can remember that we children would gather twigs from the grease wood bushes to cook for greens. We left there in May and went to Colorado where father Dunton worked hauling lumber. Two years later we went to Mancos, Colorado. We still had many hardships; the first house we lived in being a dug-out, and mother took in washing and we children helped clear, and then plant and harvest the crops. We helped mother make tallow candles, which we used for light and soap for our laundry. We gleaned in the fields to get money to buy our school clothes. Mother, through it all, never looked on work as a drudgerym but was always glad to do anything that she could to help make our way and we learned to do the same. Always it seemed she was able to look on the bright side of life. When my four older sisters followed two years later, coming the same route over the Colorado river, they were so homesick from being separated from us that when they arrived after dark my sister Kate, looking down through the dug-out windows and seeing mother sitting there by the evening fire, called out "I see my mother; where's the door.". What a glad reunion it was. I feel that my pioneer mother gained a place in the high courts in heaven. When we cross over the river, it is my hope that we will be reunited there and that I too, may say "I see my mother; where's the door."