More letters from Mormon children in 1893, telling about their lives and surroundings:

A Pet Pigeon

I have a pet pigeon. Its name is Robbie. Its color is a light blue. We all think so much of him. Every morning when papa gets up to build a fire, Robbie is watching at the door, waitinhg to have it opened, so that he might come in to get his breakfast.

When I get up and go out he is so glad to see me, and flies right up on my shoulder. Then I get some wheat for him, and he will walk down my arm, and eat out of my hand.

When Robbie gets done eating he will fly up on one of the pictures that hangs on the wall. If anyone goes to get him down he will pick at him and fight. He does not like to be taken down.

My pet likes to stay in the house, and when he is put out he will fly right back against the door and try to get in.

One very cold day my brother put him out. We were in the front part of the house. He darted down against the window and tried to get in; and when he found he could not he would sit outside on the window-sill and looked in so innocently, as if to say, “Let me come in.”

Robbie washes himself in a wash dish of water every day. Sometimes we are quite busy and forget to get him some water; then he will fly on the wash stand and help himself to the water in the wash dish.

Sometimes my little sister Nellie will get him and wrap him up, and play he was a baby. Robbie rather enjoys this. He will come right to her at any time. She cn go right up to him, while none of the other children can do so except when he is hungry and wants his wheat.

– Millie Curtis, Springville, Utah, age 9

On a Dry Farm

I live on a dry farm in the northern part of Utah. We have no running water to irrigate our land with, but the Lord blesses us with plenty of hay and grain. We have a windmill to draw water for our stock.

I have a nice pony to ride after the cows. We have to go two and a half miles to Sunday school. We enjoy the ride very much. I am anxius to get the Juvenile to read the little folks’ stories.

– Delbert E. Hess, age 13

An Indian Dance

About a block south from our residence is a Moquis village. The Moquis are a very peculiar people, being in some respects quite civilized.

A short time ago I witnessed one of their dances, and it was quite amusing.

They first gathered a short distance from their village and dressed themselves in all sorts of ways, to represent different persons and animals. Some looked very much like bears, dogs, and many other different things. Then one beat the drum, and they all formed in a line and marched to their village, and there they all danced and kept time with the beating of the drum.

Two elderly Indians stood apart from the rest and gave orders and sprinkled consecrated cornmeal on each one of them.

The general way in which they danced was this: They all stamped with one foot and then the other, and as the managers gave orders they would make motions with their hands and turn around. They would dance this way for some time, and then they would go away and change their costumes. While they were doing this they had some of the other Indians dressed very comically, and they would act as clowns. They kept this up from sunrise until about an hour before sunset. Our family has been in this country only a short time, and it was quite a curiosity to us.

– Grace Nebeker, Tuba City, Arizona, age 13

Our Trip to the Salt Lake Temple

We started out on Monday, April 10th last, to attend the dedication of the Salt Lake Temple. About nine o’clock we were traveling down Provo Canyon.

When we were in sight of Pleasant Grove my two little sisters were upon the seat with papa, and he was driving at a fast trot. Suddenly we came to a deep ditch in the road, and papa thought it was only a shallow one, and he let the horses trot over it. As the ground was covered with slush, he could not see it very well. In trying to save the two little girls papa fell out against the horses, which frightened them, and they ran some distance. Papa caught on the wagon tongue. I asked God to keep papa and my sisters from getting killed, and he did so. Papa only had his foot and hand hurt quite badly.

We traveled on to Lehi, and stopped at Brother Brown’s place. He was very kind to us. Next morning papa’s foot was quite lame and sore. So Brother Brown came and harnessed and hitched the horses on the wagon for papa, and we thanked him for his kindness. then we traveled to Salt Lake City.

– Grace Greer, Wallsburg, Wasatch Co., Utah, age 12

Our Primary

I have read all the stories from the little folks in the Juvenile this year, and have thought for a long time I would like to write one, but hardly knew how to begin.

We have a very good Primary Association, although there are but few members. I joined the Primary Association when I was five years old. I always feel bad if I have to miss a meeting. I have not missed one this year.

Our president was telling us not long ago of one of our boys who was healed in the primary meeting when it was first organized. Sisters Eliza R. Snow and Zina D. Young were here at the time. This boy was very sick and weak, and had to be carried to meeting. He wanted to be prayed for, so at the close of the meeting Sister Snow told the children to arise to their feet, close their eyes, and repeat after her the prayer, one sentence at a time. She prayed for the sick boy. When they got through praying he got up, walked home, and got into a wagon without help. He was well from that time.

This boy is a young man now, but I guess he will never forget how he was healed in Primary.

Such things should strengthen our faith as children, and I am sure they do. If we are humble and prayerful the Lord will bless us and hear our prayers in times of sickness or trouble.

– Mabel Knell, Pinto, Utah, age 11

Our Mountain Home

About four years ago we moved to the Sierra Madre Mountains, to a beautiful little cove near the Piedres Verde River. There were only two families of us together, with another one on a ranch about a mile and a half distant. The nearest town was a small settlement over three miles away, where we sometimes attended meeting. However we did not get lonesome or feel the least fear, although we had often heard that we lived on the trail of renegade Apaches traveling through the country. This fact has since been proven by the sad fate which befell Brother Thompson’s family last summer, who were attacked by the Indians. Two were killed and one wounded in this same place.

We did not have much chance to get lonesome, as we were so busy looking after our crops and cattle during the week. Then on Sunday we held Sunday school at our neighbor’s house, which was quite a pleasure. Often in the afternoon we children would take a walk to gather moss and flowers, or else we would visit the caves, which were quite numerous.

There were many pretty caves, pillars and arches of solid rock, some of which we named after objects we fancied they resembled. Some of the arches were over fifty feet high. Under one of them grew a huge grape vine, that looked as though it might be a century old. From this, as well as other vines and trees, we gathered fruit to make pies.

There were four or five caves about four miles distant, which were much larger than those where we lived. One of them was so formed that twenty men might have resisted an army of five hundred men from gaining an entrance into it. It also contained a large olla or pot six or eight feet high, which was likely used to store grain in. Two or three of the caves had been walled up into different rooms. It is believed that these caves were inhabited by ancient people.

The Piedras Verde River, which passed our home, is a clear, mountain stream. It afforded us much pleasure, as we used to bathe in its cool waters very often. There were a great many fish in the river, which we used to catch and use.

One 4th of July my brother and I went to hunt some cows, and took our fishing tackle along with us. We returned home with one cow and a large basket full of fish as the result of our day’s hunt and exploit.

Another pleasing feature of our mountain home was that there was plenty of game, as deer and turkey. There were also some of the fiercer kind of animals, as the bear, mountain lion and wild cat. One day my older brother had been hunting. About sundown he waw two large bears. He fired at them and they started after him. He kept on firing until he killed one of them, and thought he had wounded the other. It turned and went into the willows. Being about two miles from home, and having no horse, he concluded to leave the bear and return for it the next day, which he did. It proved to be a pretty good sized one, and pretty well marked with bullet holes.

– Junius Romney, Colonia Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico, age 15