Ole Munks Slægtsdatabase

1836 nr. 19:
Født den 21 august
Inger Marie Christensdatter
Gårdfæster og Smed Christen Laursen og hustru Johanne Marie Christensdatter. Holdensgaard.
Hjemmedøbt den 23 august, publiceret 23de oktober
Gårdfæsterkone Ane Christensdatter Kragelund Wolstrup sogn,
Gårdfæsterkone Maren Mikkelsdatter, Fourholt.
Gaardeier og Sognefoged Jens Jacob Christen, Fæbroen
Gårdfæster Niels Jensen, Fourholt
Gårdeier Jens Jørgensen, Lille Rugtved.

1851, den 27 april holdt konfiration i Albæk Kirke: nr. 1:
Inger Marie Christensdatter af Holdensgaard
Husmand og Smed Christen Larsen og hustru Marie Christensdatter af Holdensgaard
14½ født 21 aug 1836, hjemmedøbt 23 s.m. D. publ. i Alb. K. 23 oct s.a.
meget godmeget god
vacc 15 juli 1840 af Knudsen

Biography of Mary Larsen Ahlstrom of Manti, Sanpete, Utah, August 7, 1919. Died Manti 22 July 1924.

"Born the 21st of August 1836 in Holdensgaard Albak Sogn Hjorring Amt or County Denmark. I am now nearly 83 years old.

My father's name was Christen Larsen, born 1 May 1802 in Lemding Sogn Hjorring Amt or County, Denmark. My mother's name was Johanne Marie Christiansen, born 21 January 1814 in Kragelund, Wolstrup Sogn Hjorring Amt or County, Denmark.

On the 6th of April 1854, Father, Mother and myself were baptized into the Mormon church and in the month of October 1855, we left our home and began our trip for America. We went to Aalborg and stayed there a few weeks until all the people from that part of the country were ready and we all got on the steamship "Iris" to sail to Copenhagen. We went down the river named Lumfjorden and came to Copenhagen in the afternoon next day, and there we stopped a few days until the steamship "Lyon" was ready to take us on bord for Kiel in Sliesvig.

Here we got on a railroad train through Holstien to Glukstad whre we got on anther steamship for England. He had a terrible storm on the North Sea. It took us two days and one night to reach England, where we arrived in the afternoon, and got on a train for Liverppol and traveled all night, and we were both tired and hungry when we got to Liverpool. There they had a dinner for the company. Some kind of soup. There were little bits of meat in it and lots of potatoes, but it was so strong of pepper and ginger and salt I could not eat it. Here we were left in a large hall for one week and we were glad for that, for we could go in to town and buy all kinds of food ready to eat. We got good soup and meat and potatoes and rice and milk and anything we liked, until we had everything ready. The sailship "John J. Boyd" was loaded with water and provisions for the trip across the Atlantic Ocean. We were on the ship several days and the doctors came to look at everybody to see if there were sick folks among the emigrants, and if so they had to be taken away (measles).

The 12th of December we were hauled out of the harbor in Liverpool by a steamboat, and it went alright as long as we were not out where the waves were rolling high, but after that our troubles began. Nearly all the people were seasick and hollered for help and they were tossed so, all our boxes had to be tied to the posts with ropes and we had to hold to what we could get hold of so we didn't fall. And we had heavy winds all the time until Christmas Eve. Then we had a tornado. Our boxes tore loose and slid from one side of the ship to the other, and we had to climb up in the bunk so we wouldn't get hurt, while the men got everything tied fast again. Sometime in January our ship got on fire on the first deck and went through the floor to the second deck and filled that with smoke so we nearly strangled. Lots ran up and wanted to jump over board. Our leader, Knud Petersen, said, "Stay on the ship we will get the fire out and the ship will get to New York", and it did. One night after that we had a collision with another ship and it just about knocked a hole in our ship. The captain had always been mean to the sailors, but after that he got worse because they had not been on their guard, so they were nearly all sick and couldn't work. But we had good luck and on 2 February 1856 we picked up 36 men from a ship that had sprung a leak and was sinking. We steered for them for four days, and we needed the sailors, too. We were on this ship 66 days. We were 512 emigrants on board, but lots of children died and were buried in the ocean. My two little brothers died. One the 30th of January, the other one week later.

We landed in New York the 16th of February 1856, and stayed in a large place, Castlegarden. The 21st of February 1856, we left New York on a train for Dunkirk, Cleveland and Chicago and to Burlington, Iowa where we arrived on the 1st of March 1856; and we crossed the Mississippi River on ice and pulled our boxes and bedding loaded on top of the boxes across the river and the ice cracking under our feet. We stayed in Burlington, Iowa, till next day and we went out to hunt work. My parents went out in the country.

My father got in a blacksmith ship; my brothers got work in the field, and a Swedish woman got me a place in the country to work. I got 75 cents a week. A third little brother died in this place, Burlington, Iowa, and was buried in a graveyard out in the forest. After a while my parents moved to Burlington Iowa where my father and the boys got steady work and to save money to go to Utah. I worked out for one year on the 21st of February 1857, was marred to Peter Ahlstrom in Burlington, Iowa. We moved out in the country where he worked in a nursery all the time until we started West.

Peter Ahlstrom was born in Malmo, Sweden 15 April 1835. His father's name was Ole Nielsen Ahlstrom; his mother's name was Ingeborg Bunderson. They and all the rest of the family came to Utah in 1860, and walked all the way. We lived in this place until the month of May, 1859, when we also started for the West.

On the 12 of February 1858 our first baby was born. We named her Anna Olena Ahlstrom and she died on 22nd of February 1858. (I forgot to tell that Ole Nielson Ahlstrom was accidently killed on 13 June 1856 in a forest south of Burlington Iowa. He never came to Utah.)

Well, we started in the first part of May 1858 for our trip. My baby, John, was born on the 24th of March 1859 and we were with my father's team. We had four oxen and a covered wagon. We were ten persons with our wagon; a young girl and an old maid that paid father to bring them to Utah. On the 9th of May 1858 we left Burlington Iowa and a few other teams on our road West. We traveled 50 miles and came to a place named Fairfield where more teams were ready to join the company. Ours were wild and would run away out of the road and we had to walk, and we had to look and pick up what spilled out of the wagon when the oxen ran away. We didn't travel very fast for 300 miles. Here we reached Council Bluff and we crossed the Missouri River on a ferry boat. We drove the oxen and the wagons on the ferry and all of us got in the wagons and all were well. Here we were in Omaha, and could get something good to eat; new potatoes and strawberries and cream. Next day we went six miles up to Florence, Nebraska, where a large company were at camp and loading up with provisions for the journey across the plains, 1000 miles to Salt Lake. We had to have 100 lbs. of flour for each person and other things, sugar, coffee, tea, salt soap and matches sure; and everything we could think of for our camping outfit, as we could not get any more supplies till we reached Salt Lake. We started sometime in June and we were 70 wagons in our company. A few were horse teams and their people could ride every day. Some of them had cows and riding horses, but we had to walk every day because we were heavy loaded and the poor oxen got sore shoulders. After a while we came to a small settlement where we got some potatoes and butter, and that was mighty good. Here were were just from Omaha and we felt tired, but on we went. We passed several Indian camps and they would sit by the road and spread their blankets and beg for us to lay something on their blankets. They wanted flour, sugar, tea, coffee, salt, matches and tobacco and shirts and they ran up to every wagon an if we didn't give something they would get mad.

Now we came to the Platte River; there were quicksand bottoms here and we had a serious time to cross. They had to hurry and not stop for then the oxens feet would go down in the sand, also the wagon wheels; they had to hitch on 4 and 5 yoke of oxen to one wagon to pull them across, and that would take a long time. All of us women had to wade and we had to hurry so we wouldn't sink in the sand. My husband carried our baby and I held to his arm so I wouldn't fall. We all got across and started further West. We jogged along till we could see Chimney Rock. It looks like a chimney a long way off, and it took us several days to reach it. We saw no settlements, only Indian camps until we came to Fort Laramie, and it was only a few houses with a wall around them to protect them from the Indians.

On and on we went; we had two deaths on the road, a baby and an old man. They were buried by the road side. At last we came to Green River; and that is a big stream of water and a dangerous stream to cross and it took us several days before all the teams got over. Here there were good feed for the cattle and also wood to burn. Women folks could not wade across the river; we had to ride in wagons. One Irish woman wouldn't ride and she got out in the stream and nearly went under, and lots of men had to get out to help her to shore. We had bad roads all the way and poor feed for the cattle. Lots of them died from alkali water. My father lost one ox. We waded lots of streams of water and we had to sit down and dry our feet and put our shoes and stockings on again. The road was full of sand, prickly pears and snakes; we nearly stepped on them sometimes.

I don't remember dates, but on my birthday, the 21st of August, we were out of flour and had nothing to eat. We had coffee, and that tasted good; and so we got a pan full of flour from a family and a boy had killed a rabbit and gave that to mother and we had a rabbit soup that night on my birthday. Mother made dumplings of flour and water and soda and it tasted good I guess. I ate the dumplings but I couldn't think of the rabbit. Next morning we had biscuits, just one for each person, and the same at noon and evening. After a day or two, we got some flour from somebody we we had bread until we got to Salt Lake City on the 29th of August 1859. But the last days before we got there we had a hard struggle up the big mountain. We had to stop every few minutes and pick up rocks and put them under the wagon wheels so they wouldn't roll back. The mountain was so steep the oxen couldn't hold them. That mountain was five miles high up hill, and I carried my baby all the way. When we got to the top we rested a little while. I don't remember how far it was across the top, but we had to get down the other side to camp where there was water and feed. That was dangerous to go down, too, so it took all the men to help so the wagons wouldn't tip over. Then there was a little mountain, it was steep too, but not so high. We came through Echo Canyon and Emigration Canyon and arrived safely on the camping place in Salt Lake, where the people came to look for old friends and brought watermelons and molasses cookies. We camped here for some days and the oxen were drove away to feed. Father intended to go to Ephraim. Your father looked around for work, but he had no tools to work with, so somebody told us to go to Sanpete where he could get work to help in the field, and get one bushel of wheat a day for his work, to find wheat and other grain. So he earned our bread stuff, and he helped to haul wood on shares so we had wood to burn, and we had to get pitch pine to burn to have a light in the fireplace, as we had neither candles nor coal oil. Our shoes were worn out and we had to get wooden shoes and were glad that there was a wooden shoemaker in Fort Ephraim so we didn't have to go barefooted. We went to meeting in our wooden shoes. Lots did that in those days; children went barefooted. We got some flour so we had bread and we got a little milk of the neighbors. After a while when they began to thrash we got wheat so I made malt and made beer, so we lived on bread and beer. We also worked and got some potatoes and squash and a little meat after people began to kill their pigs. There was no meat shops in those days. We made molasses of corn stocks and parsnips; that was all the sweets we had. They raised some sugar cane in Provo and made molasses but that didn't reach us. We got through the first winter we lived in a cellar. Next summer we got a cow for the 24th of July. Then we were well off and we built one house of dobies and had a dirt roof on it and and a floor of some flat rocks; they were better than a dirt floor. That was in 1860. We also got a city lot where we built our house and had a garden and we had a pig to kill that fall, and your father made dobies all that summer so he got lots of wheat after harvest. But everything cost so much; it was a bushel of wheat for one yard of calico and it was one bushel for factory and so on, but most everybody was dressed alike. Then we got one sheep so I sheared the wool for to make stockings and the next year we had a lamb and so I had more wool and carded and spun the wool and had it wove into cloth, for me a dress and your father a shirt. And so we got more sheep and more wool every year so I made more cloth and we got clothes to wear.

Next year the 6th of September 1861, James Ahlstrom was born. We still had a dirt roof and in the month of January in 1862 it rained for 22 days and nights, so there was not a dry spot in the house. We were lucky we had an umbrella we had with us from the States that I put over the baby and we got a few boards to lay on the top of the house next to the chimney, so there was a little dry spot next to the fireplace where we could be dry. We had to sleep in our potato cellar in the night. It didn't rain there. It was outside of the house and lots of dirt on top so the water ran off it, so we were dry in the bed. Next summer he made more dobies so he earned more wheat, so he got a few carpenters tools so he could make doors and window frames. He got a plank to make a kind of work bench. We had a shed with lots of straw where we kept our cow in the winter and that was the workshop. Before the winter of 1863, we got some boards and slabs on the house and made it slant to both sides so it didn't leak anymore and we got along better. The next winter 1864, February 21, Ole was born, and in the spring we sold our dobie house for some logs and we built a log house on the lot where I lived all the time I was in Ephraim."

In that summer we built another dobie house with shingles on, and a board floor and loft and had the log house for a kitchen. We lived in this place in 1865 when the Indian War broke out and had many big frights and ran to town every time the big drum sounded "Come. Come." And when I and my three little boys were alone at home, we went to town and carried our quilts and slept in Rasmus Larsen's barn; and the Indian War kept up in Sanpete for three summers.
My brothers, Peter and James Larson were out in all the expeditions, the first one in Salina Canyon in the spring of 1865 when the Indians came down and took Salina Cow herd and drove up the Canyon. The Indians camped at the head of the Canyon where the boys could see them, but the Indians had their guards on both sides of the trails so when the boys came along they could kill them and when they could see the heard, then the Indians began to shoot from ambush and our boys were ordered to retreat.
But two of the Company were killed; one Jens Sorensen from Ephraim and Mr. Kearns from Gunnison. It was a miracle they were not all killed. The bullets came around them like hail and they didn't see an Indian. This was the first experience in the Black Hawk War. Then all that summer they had to keep guards up on the guard wall by the mill and on a tower in town where they had spy glasses so they could look if there was danger around. If the drum would sound, off to town I would go with my boys to find out what was up. Sometimes it was a false alarm then we would go home again. I have run away from my washing and I have left my bread in the bake skillet to bake or burn till I could be back to see it; and us that lived in the outskirts of town were in the fix. So I think we earned our pension and ought to have it. The later part of May the Indians killed a family in Tilstel Valley and drove off stock, so it went on all the time. We were never easy, and when your father had to go away from town and be on guard at night, I and my boys went down and slept in Rasmus Larsen's barn. That went on for two summers, 1865 and 1866. In 1867 we were a little easier.
In October 1866 the Indians killed seven people from Ephraim. A company went to the mountains to get poles and as they got up to where they left the wagons and had unyoked their oxen, the Indians were close on them and fired, and all of them had to run for dear life. The Indians caught Soren Jespersen and tortured him; they cut off his hands and feet and scalped him, and cut out his heart; and they killed two other men and then gathered up all the oxen and started them up the canyon and came down to do more harm. My brother Peter and Henry Green and Neils O. Anderson had run to town and gave the alarm and the guard in town came out to head off the Indians up behind the guard knoll, where William Thorp was shot and Lewis Larsen was wounded; he hid behind a cedar tree and kept pointing his gun at the Indians so they went back and scalped Thorp. Then lots more Indians came from the Canyon and got after a carriage that came from Manti; there were two men and an old Doctor woman named Mana Snow in the carriage. Cap. Whitlock was the teamster and my brother (Lars Christian Larsen) L.C. Larsen was with and the Indians came up to them and shot through the cover of the carriage and the old women layed down in the bottom of the carriage and prayed. Cap. Whitlock was shot in the back with an arrow. My brother (Lars Christian Larsen) had jumped out on the carriage tongue between the horses and was facing the Indian that was riding on the side of them. They knew that one; his name was Yenewood. Lars Christian pointed his pistol at that Indian and their team and outran the Indian pony so Chris (Lars Christian) got up and pulled the arrow out from Whitlock's back, but the Indian had shot the one horse and it was still running and reached town before it fell dead. Then a lot of other Indians went down south of Ephraim to take the cowherd and on their way they killed three people; a man, his wife and a girl. They were running toward town. The father carried his little boy when he was shot and fell. Some of the men from Ephraim ran out after the Indians so they never got time to scalp these people. The man and woman were shot with bullets, but the girl had an arrow shot through her body and not dead when found. But the little boy was not hurt, but was covered with blood from his parents. This boy is now a man and a President of the Jordan Stake near Salt Lake City. His name is William Kuhee.
That night the town was in mourning. Lots of the men that went in the Canyon had not come home; they had hid around in the brush away from the Indians and dare not come out until they knew that the Indians had left with all the cattle. The next day lots of men went up to look for them that had been killed, and brought them home. It was a terrible sight; all the dead were taken to a school house and laid out. We might not see them. The people stood in groups and cried. They buried them all in one grave by the school house. They dare not go out to the grave yard for fear there were Indians waiting around to kill more of the people. A week later they took them to the graveyard and buried them side by side.
Now fall was on and winter was coming. Then we would have peace for the winter while the snow was on the mountains, but in the spring of 1867 the Indians were lurking around again, but the people were more careful. In the summer the Indians came down Willow Creek Canyon and drove off a band of horses. The guard went after them and overtook them and had a fight with them and scared some of the horses back. There Pete Bishop's horse was killed from under him. I never heard of anybody else being hurt. Canute Petersen, having been sent to Sanpete by President Brigham Young to try and make peace with the Indians, and to be Bishop of Ephraim. We still were afraid and on our guard.
On the 1st of September 1867, my little boy William was born and I had to be in the house alone and the children outside. Everybody was out fighting grasshoppers. They came in big clouds and settled down on the grain and bit off the heads of the grain that was not ripe. At that time there were no machines to cut the grain. Some went to cut with butcher knives and some had sickles to help save the wheat for bread. The summer of 1868 we had a grasshopper war. I went out with my baby and the other three boys to help fight to save the wheat and I guess there was enough saved for bread.
That summer lots of men were called to go out in Echo Canyon to work on the railroad and Papa went. He came home a few days and had money, so we got some flour and shoes and cloth to make some clothes. He went back again to work till winter came on so they couldn't work. In 1869 the train came to Ogden, Weber, Utah. Now we had better times. That fall I got my first stove. (Well, I have never had only two and I've got the last one yet).
In the summer of 1870 Hannah was born on the 14th of June. That summer we built our last house in Ephraim. We moved in it one week before Christmas. We had just got everything fixed nice, our floors were scoured white. We had no carpets; not many had carpets in those days, but I was glad that I had two rooms finished. The boys had one apple each and a few sticks of candy in their stockings. That Christmas Eve the ladder slid down off from the porch and I broke my arm. I could feel the small bone was broke two inches above the wrist. There was no doctor to do anything and a man came in and put splints on it and wrapped some cloth around it. We got a girl for a few days but she could not milk the cow so I had to milk with my left hand.
(My little boy, William, died the 9th of September 1869, in Ephraim, I forgot to get it in the right place.)
Now we were doing tolerable well. Your Father was working in Uckerman's shop and people came from other places and got furniture and brought fuit and preserves and all kinds of stuff to pay for them so we got alright. The first money your father made in Ephraim was One Hundred Dollars and sent them to Sweden to his Uncle Victor and then in 1872, Mary came and in November that year he went to Salt Lake to the Endowment House and married her. On the 21st of March 1872, Delbert was born in Ephraim. In September 1873, Mary's Tilda was born on the 7th. Then we had two babies in the house. Then we got one of the small rooms fixed for the boys to sleep in and Mary had the big room. I had the north room.
In the fall of 1874, fourteen men were called from Ephraim to go down to St. George to work on the Temple and your father was one of them. He was away nearly all winter and we got along as best we could. Towards spring we had word that he had been hurt and had to come home, but felt very bad. He got a supporter but it did not help him very much, but he had to try to work anyway.
On April 4th 1875, Frank was born, and on May 24, the next month, Mary's Linda was born; then there were two more babies in the house and a crippled father. He could hardly work. Then the boys went across Sanpete and put in some grain and we raised a nice crop that year.
The boys went wading across the slue and carried their food every week. The next year, 1876, they did the same and they raised a crop, but in the fall after thrashing and hauling the grain to town, the boys stayed home and had a little rest.
In February 1877, Ole went across the river and took a sheep herd for the summer. Then I couldn't stand it any longer for them to lay over there alone and no one to do for them, so I told the boys I was going over with them. We had only a small log house where there could be two beds in the one end and I took my stove to cook on, we had some boards for a table and a few stools and a bench. I took some dishes and a wash tub and my cows and a few chickens and the boys dug a cellar and a well. So we got along, and after Jonny and Jimmie had the grain in, they hauled some logs for a bigger house. They put up the logs and got the roof on but it was never finished. The boys slept in it the summer. Their father helped to put up that house, but he was in town and worked when he could, nearly all the time. Mary lived home with Pa and her children. (I forgot that in the summer of 1876 Lizzie was born on the 25th of July.) Mary's parents lived over in Snaver's house and they were lots of company for her.
We raised a crop this year too, and after we thrashed, I went home the last day of October, and on the 16th day of November, 1877, Sarah was born. The people took their sheep home in the winter so the boys were home a good part of the time, but in February 1878, we went back. The boys had to work; the ditches had in the saleratus beds, so I took my baby girl, three months old, and left home again to be with the boys.
The first part of December 1877, your father went to Manti, Sanpete, Utah to help tear down the mountain where the Temple now stands; and first he worked for donation but he could not keep on doing that very long, and they needed a man every day when they broke some of their tools, so they had to have a carpenter and a blacksmith, so daddy got work all the time after that. I stayed over the river till after thrashing was done and that fall I believe Johnny was married, so they lived over there. I never went there any more to stay and I was glad of it. The boys got a horse so they did not have to walk, and in the summer the boys went out and worked on the railroad.
In 1878, one week before Christmas, Minnie was born, and the winter of 1879, Mary moved to Manti. The spring of 1879 the cornerstone of the Temple was layed and we went up to see it, and your father worked there till it was completed in 1888. In all those years we used to walk up there many times, you and I. Sometimes we had a chance to ride. In the spring of April the 2nd, we moved to Manti and rented for four months. After that we got a little home of our own where I lived till the fall of 1908.
Now you know your own history and boys must do the same. This is to my Sarah Ahlstrom Nelson in Rexburg, Idaho.