Samuel Stephen Jones (1837 - 1923) Profile

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Samuel Stephen Jones

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British Mission history, 1841-1971, Church History Library

British Mission history, 1841-1971, Church History Library, Page 7.

British Mission history, 1841-1971, Church History Library.

Index to the British Mission manuscript history and historical reports, 1841-1971, Church History Library

Index to the British Mission manuscript history and historical reports, 1841-1971, Church History Library.

Missionary Department missionary registers, 1860-1959

Missionary Department missionary registers, 1860-1959, Vol. 1, Page 22, Line 932.

Missionary Department missionary registers, 1860-1959.

Missionary Department missionary registers, 1860-1959, Vol. 2, Page 24, Line 932.

Mormon Migration, Brigham Young University

Mormon Migration, Brigham Young University.

Mormon Missionary Diaries, Brigham Young University

Mormon Missionary Diaries, Brigham Young University.

Albert Jones, Autobiography, reel 5, box 6, fd. 5, item 1

Albert Jones, Autobiography, reel 5, box 6, fd. 5, item 1.

. . . arriving ther[e] [Iowa City] July 8th, 1856



This was the year for the trial of Hand Cart transportation[.] We stayed here at this Camp-Ground making tents and Hand-Carts Sixteen or twenty days;—this proved a great loss to us as this time put in in traveling would hav[e] taken us in to Salt Lake Valley with less suffering and exposure. We crost the state of Iowa 300 miles with our Hand-carts, then on August 25th, 1856, we started out for Utah across the Great Plains One thousand miles of a journey. Our company was under the care of Edward Martin and Daniel Tyler, provisioned for sixty days; Five Hundred Seventy Six men, women and children; One Hundred Forty Six Hand-carts and seven Wagons to carry tents and flour. One Hundred pounds of flour on each Hand-cart. The journey was a terrible one owing to the early closing in of winter! One third of the party died on the Road! I sold an extra over-coat at Laramie to one of the cooks for some dried Peaches, apples and a little bacon and some flour, which made me feel, if not the richest man in camp. I helped dig the grave in which fourtueen of our people wer[e] buried. One boy a little older than myself came walking by the grave and I knew by his appearance, if we stayed ther[e] four days he would go into it. We stayed; and his dust lies out on the plains near Red Ballieat [Butte] the point where Joseph A. Young with his companions from the Valley, the first of the Rescue party to reach us. We wer[e] reduced to a quarter pound of flour per day and if the rescue party had not come out to help us, we should all hav[e] perished a miserable death by starvation and cold. But Brigham Young ordered all the available and necesssary number of men and teams to come out to our help, and after much suffering and privation we passed over the little mountain divide thru eight feet of snow, arriving in Salt Lake City at noon Sunday the 30th of November, 1856. I stood the jouurney without frost bite or blemish; mother [Sarah Ann Bradshaw Jones] stood it well, but my brother S[amuel]. S[tephen]. Jones would no doubt hav[e] perished hod [had] not Ephraim Hanks one of the Rescuers nursed him along...



 



In the Spring of 1862 Bishop Johnathan O. Duke of the First Ward of Provo called me to drive team to Omaha to bring in a load of Emigrating Saints; now came the opportunity to fill a vow I made on the plains in 1856, when standing by the camp fire made by the mountain boys who came out to assist us Hand-cart people, which was to the effect,—that should an opportunity arise in my life when I could be of service in aiding people to cross the plains, as I and mine had been helped, I would surely engage in that duty. So on May 11th, 1862 I started out with my own waggon, one yoke of oxen of my own and three yoke of my neighbors for Florence One Thousand miles away. If was the year of high water and we boys of Captain Homer <s>duncans</s> Duncan's company became amphibious as we were in the water as much as on the land. We made the fastest time of any Ox train to Omaha and return. I reached Provo September 29th, 1862 on my return.

Transcript for Albert Jones, Autobiography, reel 5, box 6, fd. 5, item 1

Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Nauvoo Temple, Sealings and Adoptions of the Living, 1846-1857

Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Nauvoo Temple, Sealings and Adoptions of the Living, 1846-1857.

CR 100 137: Historical Department journal history of the Church, 1830-2008

CR 100 137: Historical Department journal history of the Church, 1830-2008, November 30, 1856, Page 61.

CR 100 137: Historical Department journal history of the Church, 1830-2008.

Handcart Veterans Association. Handcart Veterans Association scrapbook, 1906-1914, folder 6

Handcart Veterans Association. Handcart Veterans Association scrapbook, 1906-1914, folder 6.

Handcart Veterans Association. Handcart Veterans Association scrapbook, 1906-1914, folder 7

Handcart Veterans Association. Handcart Veterans Association scrapbook, 1906-1914, folder 7.

Jones, Albert, Address, Handcart Veterans Association

Jones, Albert, Address, Handcart Veterans Association, October 4, 1906.

<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">Address read by Albert Jones of Provo to the Hand Cart Veterans assembled 
in the Assembly Hall Temple Block Salt Lake City 
on the Evening of October 4th 1906.</center>



Brethren, Sisters, and Friends of the remnant of those who crossed the great plains with Hand Carts.—



I was one of them,—but as a boy of fifteen, my trials were light in comparison to those of mature years,—fathers and mothers of families—the storry of your privations is well known, and has been told at your hearthstones many a time, with no intent to harrow up the feelings of your children and friends—but to show up more vividly the comforts that you now enjoy—and have for the many years past—it is not in the nature of the true Saint, to repine at trials past; as the verse correctly renders this point which reads:



 



<blockquote xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">"How will the Saints rejoice to tell, 
And count their sufferings o'er, 
When they upon Mount Zion dwell 
And view the landscape o'er."</blockquote>



 



I remember that my Brother S.S. and myself led out at the head of the column of Hand Carts from Iowa Camp Ground, and it was with a certain amount of pride that I rejoiced in my youthful strength—as I grasped the handle bar of the cart—and bore it forth so easy with the keep of my brother.



I was short in stature then for my age, and broadly built—was strong—not sick one day through the long journey—no frost or frost bite on my young body in spite of the bitter cold weather endured by our company—the Martin &amp; Tyler which arrived in Salt Lake City, November 30, 1856.



Our traveling companion now deceased, Francis W Webster of Ceader [Cedar] City—after an interval of thirty years met me at the home of a friend in this beautiful city, &amp; made the remark—"had I been looking for you—should have expected to have met a short stocky built man.



You know my friends how we suffered better than I—through your personal expirence—I was the youngest one of a family of five—and we all came through alive—without scar and blanish [blemish]. My dear old mother [Sarah] then fifty-five (55) years of age stood the perils and the hardships of the journey and lived in Provo eleven years after her arrival—many many others that lived through the ordeal have gone to the great beyond, John Watkins our bugler who called us to prayer, &amp; our old time friend Wm. L. Binder, a man of unbounded charity and a lovable disposition.



The latter carried me across the Sweetwater when it was freezing terribly hard; and my brother S.S. pulled our Cart through the cold stream when our handcart broke down, upon it coming out of the water on the other bank—and my brother went on to camp in his wet clothes, while I stayed behind, and after a long time succeeded in bringing our bedding &amp; other things into camp on another handcart.



John Jacques, one of our company has gone; but his name is immortalized in his grand poem, sung by the Saints these many years, "O say what is truth," this poem I might say adorns yes adorns the last page of one of our acknowledged scriptures, of these the latter days, known as the 'Pearl of Great price."



You are of Iseral [Israel], &amp; though you gathered to Zion in the humble manner you did—you are of the best blood the earth affords—what greater claim exists to superiority of birth—that you have not; when the Patriarch with hands upon your heads, has with the vision of the seer declared you of the Ephriamic stock.



Rejoice ye Saints of God in the grand promises made you—since you laid down the shafts of that rickety old cart you have been blessed—many of you have been laboring unceasingly since then—you have spent years on missions—you have in turn gathered your fellow-religionists home to Zion,—have fought the Indians who sought your lives,—endured persecution for the Gospels sake—have been in peril both by sea &amp; by land. Imprisoned &amp; fined for conscience sake—all this and more have you passed through, scince your entry to these grand vallies to which God in His mercy has led you.



I well remember the scene of then, Joseph A. Young &amp; companion reached us, as the first noble band of rescurers from the vallies—Jos. A. rode a white mule down a snow covered hill or a dugway into our camp the white mule was lost sight of, on the white background of snow—and Jos. A. with his big blue soldiers overcoat, its large cape &amp; capacious skirts rising &amp; falling with the motion of the mule, gave the appearance of a big blue winged angel flying to our rescue.



The scene that presented itself on his arrival, I shall never forget; women crying aloud; on their knees, holding to the skirts of his overcoat as though afraid he would escape from their grasp &amp; fly away—Joseph stood in their midst drawn up to his full height and gazed upon their upturned faces; his eyes full of tears; I boy as I was prayed "God bless him."



His coming gave us a pound of flour that night instead of the four ounces we had issued us for several days past—I have the little print sack my mother made me in which I received my ration of flour &amp; shall hold it as a sacred momento of those days: the next morning after Josephs arrival we left the camp, where we had been about four days, &amp; had buried about fourteen of our number.



As we neared the vallies—younger men—boys in their red shirts, their trousers thrust well down into their boot tops made their appearence felling the dry timber for our fires—&amp; even trying to make merriment to cheer up our gloomy &amp; sorely tried people



I think it must have been Coopers tale "The Prairie" which I read in London, that gave me so great an addmiration for the "American axe," and these red shirted young giants received from me the greatest admiration for their skill in cutting down the trees, with their quick &amp; rapid blows—&amp; I thought my fortune would be made if I could only swing the axe so gracefully &amp; effectually as these youths from the vallies.



I followed them from fire to fire &amp; if allowed to cut a stick into two with their axe I was in my glory—although they laughed at my first attempts to acquire its use—one night I well remember after I had sung sever[a]l songs to the boys around their jolly big campfire—I moved to the other side of the fire—from where they were sitting—&amp; in my admiration of these active young fellows, I made a vow—That should I and my people reach the vallies in safety—and a call should come to go out to rescue belated Saints in their incoming through the mountains, I would go out to help them—in six years the call came: Bishop Duke of Provo in the year 1862 called me to take my own dear self—my one yoke of Oxen—and my own wagon and go 1000 miles to Florence to bring in a wagonload of such emigrants.



I went under the late Cap. Homer Duncan making the round trip in the shortest time of any of the ox trains dispatched from the Vallies in that business—fulfilled the vow I had made—&amp; this effort is among the most pleasant of my life.



In all the labors of your frontier life you have nobly taken your post of duty—&amp; this day you feel in your hearts that the toils and labors of the past are amply rewarded in the blessings of today—in your grasp of the principles of the gospel, the material blessings of this life, which through a life of constant labor you have realized—today you travel to &amp; fro perchance in your own carriage or upon the cars:—our hearts are lifted up in praise to God for all his blessings we now enjoy—&amp; though the handcart episode is one of the unpleasant expirences of our lives, the schooling that it gave, &amp; the training of our unpleasant episodes in our lives since then—all have tended to make our faith in our religion the stronger—&amp; our appreaceation of Gods own hand dealing to us as a people, more easily discerned.



May Gods blessings be upon you aged people &amp; may your children ever be true to the cause for which you have spent your lives.

Transcript for Jones, Albert, Address, Handcart Veterans Association, 4 Oct. 1906. Handcart Veterans Association, Scrapbook, 1906-1914, fd 1

Jones, Albert, Address, Handcart Veterans Association.

Jones, Samuel S., [Reminiscences], Deseret Evening News

Jones, Samuel S., [Reminiscences], Deseret Evening News, September 1, 1906.

<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
	EXPERIENCE OF S.S. JONES</center>



	The whole story of the travels and sufferings of the Martin and Tyler Handcart companies that arrived in Salt Lake City on the Sunday of Nov. 30, 1856, can never be written or told. Sketches and episodes may be related in brief, but the weather towards the last of the journey was so intensely cold and the hurrying to get through the mountains to the valley so great as to preclude any attempt to write up any data of the journey.



	There were five companies of handcart emigrants that crossed the plains in that year. 1856 was the year of the handcart craze, the three first of which were the craze, and the two last that started from the frontiers so late were crazy, and the last of those two was the craziest of all, and the writer was in it.



	We started from Florence on the west bank of the Missouri river just about Sept. 1. We traveled on under pretty favorable circumstances until the last of that month, but after that, in October, it got to be pretty cold. The wading of streams, and an occasional wind storm that leveled all our tents made it somewhat uncomfortable. This continued until we got within one days travel of a stockade fort, near Devil's Gate on the Sweet Water in Wyoming, about 400 miles out from Salt Lake City. By this time it was the first part of November. If this had been our destination, the journey might have been regarded a little tough, and let it go at that, but what we had endured up to that date was only a prelude to what followed.



	I well remember the afternoon march before we reached the place above mentioned. We had rested for noon along the roadside, and partaken of our scanty meal, when soon after we started on again, the wind blew up from the east, and the clouds came scurrying along the sides of the mountains. I remember those clouds; they looked like they meant mischief, and they got their work in all right; pretty soon it began to snow a little, light at first, but it was not long before it got down to business, and it snowed in earnest. The line of carts was generally a little broken and scattering, but on this occasion they all closed up, following right behind each other. It seemed to strike each heart that we had met the enemy and he had got us. Not a word was spoken. I never shall forget that silence as we trudged along, each footstep deadened by the fallen snow, which was getting a little deeper at every step.



	 


<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
	GOD ONLY KNEW.</center>



	 



	There was no sound, save the faint creak of the little hand carts as they were tugged along. Where were we going! What should we do! God only knew; we didn't. It commenced to get dusk but on we pulled, it seemed as though this terror gave us fresh energy for the snow was by this time from eight to ten inches deep. At last when we were pretty nearly exhausted a log house and the stockade hove in view. We had not seen such a thing for many a day. It was so unexpected that it revived our spirits. We all gathered around the log house. It was soon filled with women and children; one long room and several hundred of us; our hope of shelter was soon dissipated; several of the women folks had fainted from the steam from their wet clothing, and the heat, and had to be carried out.



	We soon saw we had to clear off the snow and take to our cold tents. At it we went, with tin pans and plates; there were no shovels or spades in our equipment. The ground here was frozen hard; we could not drive the tent pins, so we raised the tents on the poles, stretched out the flaps, and banked them down with the snow. and huddled in under the best shelter we could get. I do not call to mind any music or singing that night, but no doubt there were many a silent prayer.



	Never mind that night; but oh, in the morning! I was the first out of the tent to make a fire. Whew! How cold it was. It fairly bit my face and hands. I had to run for a fire that had been kept burning all night, from the poles of the stockade.



	Then I ran back to the tent to tell the folks to stay there till I called them, and they did it. After the sun arose it was bearable but still very cold.



	 


<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
	ACROSS THE SWEETWATER.</center>



	 



	It was decided that morning that we should cross the Sweet Water. and go into what is known as Martin's ravine, as there was some cedars for fuel, and wait until more teams from the valley arrived to help us in. Ten teams with some supplies had already met us. They had dealt part of the shipment to Capt. Willie's company that was a long way ahead of us, and what we obtained from them was soon exhausted among so many hungry souls.



	 


<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
	HELP FROM THE VALLEY.</center>



	 



	The brave boys from the valley, under George D. Grant carried the women and children over the Sweet Water river, but the men and able bodied had to wade and take the handcarts with them. The water and ice took me up to the waist, and the clothes had to dry on me. That was a terrible night.



	We stayed in the ravine five or six days on reduced rations. One night a windstorm blew down almost every tent. Many perished of cold and hunger at this place. I am not going into detail about the occurrences at Martin's ravine. We stacked our carts there, but I remember the pinched, hungry faces, the stolid absent stare, that foretold the end was near, the wide and shallow open grave, awaiting its numerous consignments. The start from that place in the wagons when the camp broke up; the looks of the living freight; the long cold rides, the longer nights; the pitiless sky, the lack of sleep; many dozing down by the fire and turning at intervals all through the night, and so on, and on, until we reached Salt Lake City. Let the curtain fall gently! This is not written in any spirit of complaint. I cannot recall a rebellious spirit or feeling on the trip. We started for Zion, and to help build up the same in the valleys of the mountains, and thank God we are here and in conclusion I will quote the good old hymn, transposed a little:



	 


<blockquote xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
	What if they died before their trip was o'er? 
	Happy day. All is well 
	They will endure. No toil or sorrow more, 
	With the just in peace they dwell. 
	And as our lives were spared again 
	To see the Saints their joys obtain 
	Come let us make the chorus swell, 
	All is well, all is well.</blockquote>

Transcript for Jones, Samuel S., [Reminiscences], Deseret Evening News, 1 Sept. 1906, 20

Jones, Samuel S., [Reminiscences], Deseret Evening News.

Josiah Rogerson, "Martin's Handcart Company, 1856," Salt Lake Herald-Republican

Josiah Rogerson, "Martin's Handcart Company, 1856," Salt Lake Herald-Republican, November 24, 1907.

Transcript for Josiah Rogerson, "Martin's Handcart Company, 1856," Salt Lake Herald-Republican, 24 November 1907

Josiah Rogerson, "Martin's Handcart Company, 1856," Salt Lake Herald-Republican, October 27, 1907.

Transcript for Josiah Rogerson, "Martin's Handcart Company, 1856," Salt Lake Herald-Republican, 27 October 1907, 21

Josiah Rogerson, "Martin's Handcart Company, 1856," Salt Lake Herald-Republican.

Patience L. Archer reminiscences, undated, 57-92

Patience L. Archer reminiscences, undated, 57-92.

Transcript for Patience L. Archer reminiscences, undated, 57-92

Perpetual Emigrating Fund Company financial accounts, 1849-1886

Perpetual Emigrating Fund Company financial accounts, 1849-1886, Vol. B, Page 232.

Perpetual Emigrating Fund Company financial accounts, 1849-1886.

"Provo Pioneer and Author Is Dead." Salt Lake Telegram

"Provo Pioneer and Author Is Dead." Salt Lake Telegram, December 28, 1923, Page 10.

"Provo Pioneer and Author Is Dead." Salt Lake Telegram.

Samuel Stephen Jones, Biographical sketches, 1891-2013

Samuel Stephen Jones, Biographical sketches, 1891-2013.

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Called on a local mission. Ordained Priest 13 November 1854.

Samuel Stephen Jones

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