Autobiography (1819-1848) of Lyman Omer Littlefield, Reminiscences of Latter-day Saints (Logan, Utah: The Utah Journal Co., 1888)

REMINISCENCES OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS

My brother Josiah saddled his horse and rode with me about ten miles, when he turned back and I pursued my journey alone. Since that parting, Josiah and Lyman have never met, and the only tidings I have had concerning him is that he, soon after our separation, went in company with a Mr. Strode to Texas.

(Death of Mercy Higgins Littlefield)

About the 10th of June, 1845, I began to be impressed with a desire to go to St. Louis, Missouri. I tried to throw off this feeling as I had no business to transact there, but my efforts in that direction were entirely futile. The influence increased upon me until it reached a most intense condition. Finally I concluded to follow the promptings and about the middle of that month started for that city.

As I rapped at my mother's place of abode, my sister Joanna answered at the door. Her noiseless and subdued manner instantly impressed me with the knowledge that sickness was in the habitation. Though she welcomed me with the genial warmth of a kind-hearted sister, she did not fail to communicate the fact that positive silence was necessary to be observed. Notwithstanding our meeting was conducted with that view, my mother's quick ear caught the pronunciation of my name, and in her reduced and enfeebled condition, arose from her bed and attempted to come from her room to see if it really was me. As soon as we saw her advance, we sprang to her with all the quickness possible and caught her reeling form just in time to prevent her fall. We lifted her gently to her bed and as she sank upon it I was encircled by the emaciated arms of my beloved mother. We spoke soothing words and ministered all the little restoratives we thought would quiet her agitation and quiet the nerves. In a reasonable time she became composed and was supremely happy because her son had come before the flickering lamp of life was extinguished.

O, that I could wield a pen skilled to relate the emotions and remembrances that crowded into those fleeting moments! Full well then I knew the Supreme motive that directed thither my footsteps. I was there to see my dear mother in the last hours of her mortal life, to receive her dying benedictions and tender, though feeble, caresses. I was present to gratify the anxious yearnings of an affectionate heart and mollify the pangs that must be attendant upon the last hours when mortality is to part with the dear ones of earth and launch out from the shores of time and cross over to the eternal realms forgotten by us in our mortal incarnation. I was sent there by a divine impulse, to receive the last instructions and listen to the wishes of a parent at the close of a weary life, to lull the tempest of a troubled existence and offer consolations to a bosom rent and torn by the disappointments and sorrows of her earthly stay. There she lay, pale and weak, my mother. Her form emaciated and thin, but with all the functions of intellect endowed with strength and vigor to enunciate sentiments of tender recognition.

Kind reader, have you stood by a mother's death bed and watched life's taper as it paled in the increasing shadow of death? Have you made note of the failing pulse which quickened into life your own existence? Did you watch when the eye's sparkling rays that were wont to fire your bosom with thrilling transport were being obscured in the gathering mists that render dreary the portals of the tomb? Have you bent downward for the ear to listen when the trembling voice gradually lost its power of utterance? If you have your knowledge will qualify you to imagine the emotional tumult that crowded and filled my being as I watched by that bedside until all that was mortal of my mother's remains were rendered inactive in the oblivious shadows of death.

Does manhood lose its dignity of bearing while bending meekly beneath the weightiness of such a blow, that the eye sheds tears of weeping, or the faltering tongue utters tender regrets at the final parting? No, proud man looks noble and exalts his being while thus lowly bowed in the solitude and awe that invests a shrine so hallowed by those sacred memories that appeal to reason for the sanctifying incense that nature's God has fixed to blaze within the deep recesses of the human heart. The proudest monarch that ever wore a crown, or the most illustrious commander whose fortune it has been to subjugate empires, are melted into contrition when she who nursed the incipient fires of his mortal existence is passing from earth to be hidden from his gaze through the appointed seasons of revolving time. Even the obdurate and depraved turn to her with reverence, and though crime may have placed his feet upon the scaffold where his offense is to be expiated, yet even there the obdurate heart melts into contrition as regretful recollections crowd his bosom that his life had not been molded by the plastic hand of a mother's watchfulness and the words of gentle admonition that fell from her lips. We reverence father for his protection and justice, for sheltering abodes that have secured us from the pelting storms, for his continued kindness as we grow from infancy to manhood, for his wise counsels and expenditure of means, perhaps to polish and refine us with educational science, but through all these bestowments the mother's vigilance has been co-equal, and through all she has ministered as the guardian angel of our existence. Her gentle hand is remembered in every circumstance and condition that has intervened. In health she has spoken kindly congratulations and in sickness has patiently watched through the midnight vigils to bathe the burning brow and still the raging pulse with grateful emollients. She moves in a sphere where unselfish affection holds dominion and wins its votaries by the charms of gentleness and grace, which draw upon the most enduring sensibilities evolved in the bosom of mortals. The adoration that may be revealed in the responsive blushes that glow upon a maiden's cheek, may be more impulsive and brilliant, but cannot be more lasting or conducive to the perpetuity of more substantial benefits. The holy flame of a mother's devotion will burn on undiminished in its brightness, while that of the trusted bride and bridegroom may wane and be extinguished upon the bleak shores swept by the unwelcome winds of adversity.

My mother lingered for four or five days after my arrival. In the warmest terms she expressed her thankfulness to her Heavenly Father that I had come to be with her through her sickness. I conversed with her freely concerning the doctrines and principles of the Church, in relation to all of which she expressed her firm belief, and spoke of her great desire to get well that she might renew her covenant by being re-baptized. She felt that this would be a great satisfaction inasmuch as she had been absent from the Church for several years. She said this had been her desire for a long time, but she had put it off from time to time. "But now," she said, "if the Lord permits me to get well, I will attend to it, and nothing shall hinder me."

She would have me by her bedside as much as possible except when she thought I was weary, and then she would beg me to lie down in the other room where I would not be disturbed, and get some sleep and rest. I was troubled, at that time, with inflamed eyes, and the day before she died she would insist on bathing them with some eye water, notwithstanding she was so very feeble. She said no one could do for her "darling boy" (for so she often called me), "like his own poor mother." She dreamed the night before her death of purchasing some fine book muslins, a cap, etc., and when the cap was brought with her burial clothes, I found it precisely answered the description of the one she dreamed of purchasing.

She expressed much concern about her children. She was entirely resigned to her fate and I am thankful that I can say truthfully that I never saw a person die more perfectly happy. About 3 o'clock a.m. of the 23rd of June, 1845, I was startled by the rattles in her throat. I was quickly by her side where I found my ever-faithful sister Joanna watching over her. Then I knew all hope was lost. The fond dreams of future days of comfort and happiness with that affectionate parent, that previously occupied my mind, had not flown forever. There lay my beloved mother, struggling for a few more breaths to prolong her earthly existence! O, God! what feelings chilled my frame! I knew a few minutes were all she had to stay, and with an effort, I summoned all my fortitude to put on at least an external appearance of tranquility. Placing my lips to her ear, I whispered low: "Mother, if you should not live would you like for me to have someone re-baptized for you and see that all things possible are done for your benefit hereafter? "O, what joy beamed in her countenance as she faintly replied: "O, yes, my dear son, to be sure; by all means, by all means." Again I inquired: "Would you like for me to take you to Nauvoo and have you buried with the Saints?" Then her countenance glowed with satisfaction, as she but poorly articulated: "O, yes, to be sure, my kind, dear son!" And again I whispered: "Mother, you will see my little children." She made an effort to raise her head, as if she expected they were present, and eagerly asked: "Where?" To correct her understanding, I answered: "In the spirit world." She then sank back upon her pillow as if satisfied, and said: "O, yes, yes." These were her last words, and she soon fell asleep in death.

As soon as it was light, I started to see Mr. Benjamin L. Shaw and met him on his way to inquire as to my mother's condition. This gentleman was a relative, himself and my mother being first cousins, in consequence of which and being a man of great wealth, he had extended to the family much financial assistance. He asked if my mother had made any request before her death. I told him of her desire to be buried at Nauvoo. He said that her wishes must be complied with. We went together to the undertaker and he ordered a coffin, and a suitable strong box in which the casket containing her remains were to be placed. Some ladies came and she was suitably made ready for burial. The habiliments with which she was to be clothed were made and her body was invested with the robes for her final rest. She was placed in the coffin and then O, how peaceful and pleasant seemed her rest! Then, my mother, your troubles were ended. The storms of life were passed and your spirit could soar to a world of peace and joy. No more shall you endure the tempests of mortal suffering or the winds of malevolence roar around your pathway, nor the clouds of adversity shut out the genial sunlight of connubial joys. Your career of sorrow now is over. Well and patiently you have endured the reverses attendant upon the mortal existence. You have accepted of God's revealed and redeeming truth, and the celestial consolations of the future life will heal the wounds inflicted along the dreary shores of this life.

The coffin containing her remains was placed into a strong box which was nailed up securely and conveyed on board a steamboat. My two sisters--Joanna and Almira Harriet--and myself took passage. We had a reasonably pleasant trip and arrived at Nauvoo about 10 o'clock a.m. of June 25th. I engaged the sexton--William Huntington--to dig the grave. A few friends rode out to the cemetery and about 4 o'clock p.m., my mother's inanimate form was consigned to her final resting place where she, with the Saints who sleep around her, will rest until the trump of God shall call forth the pale nations of the dead from the sleep of death. Until then, my mother, we must be separated.

Confederate Soldier's Oath, Henderson County Texas

I ____ do solemnly swear that I will faithfully and impartially perform all the duties incumbent upon me as ____ of Henderson County according to the best of my skill and ability agreeable to the constitution and laws of the State of Texas and also the constitution and laws of the Confederate States of America so long as the State of Texas shall remain in that Confederacy. And I do further solemnly swear that since the 2nd day of March 1861 that I being a citizen of of Henderson County, Texas have not fought a duel with deadly weapons, nor have I acted as second in carrying a challenge or acted, advised, or assisted any person thus offending, so help me God. ..... J. Littlefield, Constable (no date listed. abt. 1864)

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Henderson Co. Commissioner's Court Book B 3, Feb 28, 1859: "#34, Ordered and decreed by the Court that A S Griffith be appointed overseer of a road leading from Athens to Kaufman to work from Athens to the Seven Mile Post with the following hands to wit: Henry Griffith Wm Sexton Stephen Willis J M McDonald P H Mires W C Mason V I Stirman Robertson Jno Mays J M Stirman S W Wolf Jno Graves W B Stirman James Stirman Josiah Littlefield A J McDonald and all other hands not otherwised apportioned." This was transcribed and sealed in 1924 by Dan Browning, "Clerk County Court, Henderson County, Texas."

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Marks and Brands, Henderson County Texas: Littlefield, Josiah 7-22-1866 page 244.

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Henderson County, Texas - CSA 20th Texas Cavalry States Roster, Texas LITTLEFIELD, Josiah Vol. 1" 1997 Broadfoot Pub. Co. MARTIN, Fran Marion Wilmington, N.C. pgs. 146,147.

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Josiah "Joseph" Littlefield's Death

Family oral history says that a group of men came to his house in 1897 and requested that he come with them whereas he went with them. Joseph was found the next day in a peach orchard dead.

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Letter from Sarah Jane Littlefield Dustin's grandaughter, Mrs. W. J. Caldwell to Elizabeth Ann Littlefield Bass Glass:

Mrs. W. J. Caldwell 3320 Idell St. Los Angeles, Ca.

Los Angeles, CA Feb 4, 1924

Dear Mrs Glass, I am writing you with hopes that I can get in touch with some of Josiah Littlefield's ancestors if you know the address of any of his children or grandchildren I would appreciate it very much if Josiah Littlefield was or I suppose he has passed on. My Grandmother's Sarah Jane Littlefield Dustin brothers and or we are trying to a record of the family. I am writing you thanks you for your trouble. I am,

Mrs. W. J. Caldwell 3320 Idell St Los Angeles Calf

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Letter from Sarah Jane Littlefield Dustin's grandaughter, Mrs. W. J. Caldwell to Elizabeth Ann Littlefield Bass Glass:

Mrs. W. J. Caldwell 3320 Idell St. Los Angeles, Ca.

Mrs. E.A. Glass 520 West Elm St. Hillsboro, Texas

Los Angeles, CA March 29, 1929

Dear Mrs. Glass We were very glad to receive your letter. Mother thinks you are our relation. She has a letter written by Grand mother's brother Lymon Littlefield in the year of 1889 it was written to my grandmother Sarah Jane Littlefield's King(?) if she ever heard from him since 1839 that he went to Texas with a Mr. Strode. We want to get in communication with you because we heard that a large estate has been left there to the heirs of Wadlo Littlefield and it has been lying for forty years and they tell us it amounts to quite a fortune. Mother found the address I sent to you first in some of grandmother's papers now find out all you can about your ancestors find out who your fathers mother and father were you know we can't go ahead until we find all of the heirs. Let us know how many there are of your own family and if there are any more of your brothe'rs family in Texas. Your distant relative Mrs. W. J. Caldwell