On the banks of the river Mercy or nearby stood a little English cottage. Here lived John Sant, born January 11, 1811, and his wife, Mary Shaw Sant, born in 1813. John was a boatman and owned a bay mare and a river boat. He earned a living for his family of twelve children, himself, and his wife by freighting from Liverpool upriver to the towns and settlements. For the large merchant ships could not navigate in those days until later years when the River Mercy was then dredged out in order for them to sail inland as far as they do now. The seventh child was born to those goodly parents on the 8 of March 1846 at Middlewich, England (map). As Jane (they named her that) opened her steel gray eyes she brought a great love, comfort, and happiness into that home. She had a very pleasant disposition, great personality and always a pleasant smile. She was sent to nursery school at a very young age and due to her quick ability to learn she was kept in school while her other brothers and sisters were sent to work in factories to help earn a living for themselves and their family. Jane made friends in school and thus gained favor with school masters. When the fee for her schooling came due, she was not turned out of school but kept on going. The family belonged to the Church of England and Jane while very young was made a class leader in her hometown. She was blessed with a sweet voice and took part in many community gatherings due to this.
One day two young men from far away America came to their home. They told them of how the angel had flown through the midst of heaven carrying the everlasting Gospel. They told how Joseph Smith had received a manifestation, he had seen God our Eternal Father and his Son, Jesus Christ.
John, her father, said, "This is what I have been looking for all of my life,"
Mary, her mother, was not so quick to jump to conclusions. She being a more conservative type of person, said, "No, no, I have been told about these terrible Mormons from Utah, who build a high wall, take all the women they can get and hold them prisoners," and many more terrible lies that some of their ministers made up and told them about the Saints in Zion. She forbade the Mormon Elders to come to her home.
One night John went to a meeting. Mother Mary, and Janie were home. All at once Mary jumped up, saying: "John has gone and been dipped" (meaning baptized). She was walking the floor and wringing her hands.
Janie said: "Mother, how do you know?"
"I know and so do you, it has been made known to me, I know he has." Just then they heard his footsteps at the door.
"John," said Mary, "you have joined those horrid Mormons."
"Yes, Mary, I have joined the true Church of Jesus Christ, I know that it is true."
Mary said a great many more things that I cannot write here. Poor dear wife, mother, and true Christian as she believed to be was overcome by the evil spirit of Lucifer. No sense or reason could she use at this time. John bowed his head, Jane wept, and Mary walked the floor, cried, and wore herself out completely. Then John removed his shoes, climbed the short stairs and retired to bed. Mary thinking, "I will see how these terrible Mormons pray," crept up the stairs after him, went to his door that had been left ajar, and there she was, now in a very humble position kneeling to listen in quietly so as not to let him know she was near. She heard him pour out his heart and soul and feelings to his Father and God for his beloved wife, the mother of his children; he prayed in her behalf, that she might see and hear the truth.
Janie being about fourteen years old had listened to the Elders and had gone when she could with her father to hear them. She had learned of the Gospel, the angel, the visions, and a Prophet of God. She had prayed and cried, and prayed some more. So when John had finished his pleading with his Father in Heaven for his wife, she too had wilted as it were and crept in pleading for her forgiveness, of John, whom she dearly loved and the spirit of the Lord had made known to her that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was true and restored to earth again.
This put our Sant family back again in living condition. They all were baptized as members, all except Jane's older sisters who were married. They then made plans to come to Zion.
They all put their savings in an America box that was fixed up by Jane and her mother. They put every penny anyone in the family made into this box. Mary surely knew how to save. They served porridge for evening meals, sheep head for dinners and each penny for toffee, instead was put into the box and no more sweets for they were all saving to come to America, to Zion.
The minister came to them telling more evil things of the Mormons. They turned Janie out of her classwork, her friends and schoolmates turned against her, for if they associated with her, others would turn against them. This was one way that the evil ones had of tempting those who joined the true church.
The family was all ready to sail when Billie, the younger boy, became very sick. Doctors removed a stone from his bladder. It had to be removed without any anesthetic, ether, or chloroform, as they were unknown and not used at that time. Janie was taken to the hospital to hold little Billie's hand and lovingly talked to him and told stories while the operation was being performed. Jane never forgot this experience.
They set sail on April 16, 1860 on the old sailing vessel Brooklyn, and they arrived in New Orleans in June of 1860. As they left Liverpool Harbor the family sang "Yes, My Native Land I Love Thee." Margaret an older sister and Janie had to do cabin work to help pay passage way. Jane was very sea sick and the family as well as the Elders prayed for her. She often spoke about the fear of being fed to the fishes.
Janie and family joined a company coming to the West and a returning missionary, David Mustard, hauled the Sant families' food and clothing across the plains. While they, the father, the mother, and the children had to walk. With what means they had left they bought a cow for milk, some eggs, bacon, and flour. While out on the long weary trip they walked day after day in the hot sun and dusty roads. Where the wagon wheels and oxen went they cut deep ruts in the desert. The dust from the wagon train could be seen for miles.
Jane, being not too strong one day, lagged behind. The Indians in the West were on the warpath at this time, during the latter part of the Civil War, and so the wagons were pulled into a circle at night to form a corral for the protection of the oxen. When supper or evening meal was prepared, Mother Mary said: "Where is Janie?" All looked at each other and Margaret who helped to drive the cows of our camp said, "O mother, she was ill and faint and the last I know of her she had lain down by some bushes along the road. She must have gone to sleep or still worse, fainted with fatigue and weariness." All were excited for the Captain of the wagon train had warned them that very morning they were to stay close to camp for they were in Indian country and there were bands that were on the war path. Father John rushed to inform the captain of Jane's absence. While he was calling for ten volunteers to go back along the trail and for other men to prepare for an Indian skirmish, for they may have stolen Janie as was frequently known to have happened to former immigrants coming west. Father John with a prayer in his heart and on his lips started back, for it was now growing dark. Mother Mary called her other children together and knelt by the wagon and if ever the hearts of a family and prayer was poured out to one's maker this little group of Saints surely did seek God our Eternal Father at this time. Others of the camp prayed there under the stars in an untamed wilderness for the girl, or child as she seemed, and for her deliverance in safety.
In the meantime the sun had gone down behind the western plains and Janie had lost consciousness but the coolness of the evening and the loud blood-curdling howl of the wolf herd aroused her, imagine this city-raised girl's fear as she awakened and sensed what had happened for many were the stories she had been told about the wolves. The Indians and what had really happened to others who had crossed these desolate plains to get to Zion. John was praying and crying out "Janie, My Janie, answer me," above the long drawn out wailing howls that were piercing the air, there came a loud voice.
She arose and tried to run towards the direction of the welcome sound, when from weakness and fear she fell, just as her father had spotted her form in the fast growing darkness. He caught her up in his arms, though she was now blooming into a young lady, and started back to camp with his burden of love. They had not gotten far when the men from camp came to their rescue and aided them on their way.
When Mary Sant saw her poor pale sick child she fell on her knees with John and the family and offered prayers of thanks for Janie's safe return. The prairie schooners rolled on and in a short time as things were moving along all right and everyone was looking far ahead, they saw the dust of another wagon train coming to meet them. On passing one teamster called "Jee-Howe" and drew his ox teams to a stop by the side of the Sant wagon.
If I can only paint a true picture of the man with my pen you will look into the sparkling black eyes of a young westerner carrying a bull whip over his shoulders, clad in a full buckskin suit, fringe down each side of the pants and a beaded design on the front of the waist coat, his dark hair, a bit long as the westerners then wore it, curled back over his ears, a broad smile on his face and those black sparkling eyes that have been the family's inheritance for all of the future generations. He, Nathan Smith (cemetery marker), of Utah was called by Brigham Young to go back to the Missouri River, for that was as far as the railroads came at this time, to bring material that was needed to help build the Salt Lake Temple and the great L.D.S. Tabernacle and to also make it possible for the poor Saints to get to Zion. He was to get much needed merchandise and then take care of as many Saints as he could by having them ride on top of the load. Nathan was heard to say: "Is this the John Sant family from England?"
"Yes, sir," answered John. "Well sir, I have a letter from your son, George (cemetery maker). He is on his way by now to meet you and bring some food for the family, but why take your time, for here is the letter, it will explain."
As he came forward and came nearer to the small group who were all ears and waiting with great interest to every word, Janie and Margaret drew near. As Nate handed over the letter, he looked into the hazel eyes of Janie, her eyes were so understanding. They must have been sparkling with interest and joy from receiving a message from her long lost brother who had come to America twelve years before. Nathan being Nathan winked at her and then that long solemn look of, "I must have seen you somewhere before."
Margaret standing by was waiting her turn to be recognized in some way and she felt, "I have lost, Janie has won," for there was no mistaking that warm smile and the twinkle in his eyes. Janie was held spellbound; she never moved, she never spoke, she stood as if in a trance.
When the wagons drove on and this glorious vision that she had beheld was drifting out of sight in the distance, Margaret said, "He is only a man."
Janie said: "If ever I marry, it will be that man."
Mother Sant said: "But Janie, he may already be married and have a dozen wives."
"I don't care how many he may have, if I can ever see him again I know I can win him and gain his love."
They all smiled thinking Janie had gone over board, and she had, generally speaking, for she never saw another in all her mortal life who took his place.
In a couple of days their food supply had almost vanished and Mother Mary would measure out each meal, so many tablespoons full of flour for they were then on very short rations. All of the family were watching ahead for any sign of brother George. At the close of a long weary day a group of wagons were spotted in the distance. Soon a cry of joy came up from the Sant family. Our George, our American George and the weary worn travelers who had just felt as though they could not go any further began rushing ahead to meet the oncoming wagons and found to their great joy it was the long lost son and brother. Imagine if you can the feelings in each heart at this meeting out on the plains and in the great wilderness of North America. This family reunion was like passing into Paradise. Do you think this reunion of our families can surpass this joy when we return to our Father in Heaven and see and behold our loved ones who have gone before? I wonder!
When the wagons were in a circle for the night and the evening meal was prepared by Mother Mary, the great men of the West, who know how to live in the great open, were all gathered around the white cloth spread on the grassy mound and saw the good food spread thereon. "0", said one of the family, "we surely have gotten to Zion."
When Janie asked, "Mother may I have another cob?" (English folks called biscuits, cobs), Mother Mary said, "Nay, Janie, you have plenty this time."
Still Janie desired some more for she had felt the pangs of hunger so long and that faint tired feeling walking, waiting for just a spoonful of porridge made from the small amount of flour that was left. When the great deep voice of George rang out on the evening air, "Give her another cob, give her all she wants." From now on to Janie's dying day she would repeat these words and never in all her life had any words in the English Language ever sounded so good as these: "Give her all she wants."
When they reached the great Salt Lake Valley they reported to the immigration committee and then figured out what they would do next. George told of a small settlement on up north where he had moved his wife, Margaret (cemetery marker) and oldest son (George Sant, Jr.). He had built a log cabin in a fort first named Summit Creek. By this time it had been named Smithfield, Utah (map; see also Smithfield). So the decision was made, the John Sant family would go and make a home at Smithfield, Utah.
Janie was quite the young lady, a very gifted girl, quick to learn, educated, a very nice looking maiden, and so she made friends at once. One of these friends was Alice Smith Done (cemetery marker). She was not only a midwife and held a doctor's certificate, and Nathan's sister, but she was so busy helping others that she needed help in her home. So, Janie offered to go and help her in her home. Alice Done also taught young immigrants who wished to learn how to spin, weave, and take the wool off of the sheep's back and make the much needed clothing for their families. Winter was coming on and what they had gathered together to come to Zion was now threadbare and rags. Janie was sent to Alice Smith Done's to help her and to be taught.
Just let me paint the picture of when Nathan Smith had finished his mission, where he had been called by the President Brigham Young to take his four yoke of oxen, wagon and supplies and travel over a thousand miles back to get supplies for building and help haul the poor Saints to Zion. When this mission was finished he came to his sister's home in Smithfield not knowing where the Sants had settled, or maybe he did! When Janie heard that same voice again, she knew it at once and her feet seemed to force her to run away and this was the last thing that she desired to do. What a confused child or young lady she was.
(My dear mother, Janie, never did go into detail to tell me just how it did happen, it is too sacred for her to relate I am sure.) However, they let no grass grow under their feet in waiting to get married, for Nate knew a good thing when he found it and he had found Janie, the little lady of his heart. On October 3, 1861 they were first married by John Sant, her father, who held the Priesthood and the authority to marry. Margaret, her older sister, was married the same day to Charles Williams, there in Smithfield, Utah. From there they went in a covered wagon to the Salt Lake Endowment House to be married by the proper authority for time and all Eternity or sealed as husband and wife, so all of us children were born under the everlasting covenant.
At Smithfield they built a log cabin where the one L.D.S. meetinghouse now stands near the bank of the Smithfield creek. The first plowed furrow ever made to take water out of the creek for irrigation was made by Nathan and George Done, his brother-in-law, with a plow and ox team. So well trained were they that Nate was often asked to use a survey and make the plow furrow so water would follow the same around the mountain sides and across country. Nate was with the organized minutement of Cache Valley Utah for the protection of the settlers from the Indians. After the Indians had made a raid on the small settlement and they had stolen Nate and Jane's first span of horses, a bay and a black mare, the men were driving the Indians up the canyon when a Brother Merrill was killed. His was the first grave in the old Smithfield cemetery.
One day when the men folk were gone to the canyon for winter's wood, Jane was doing her washing in her front door yard, there in the Fort, when an Indian squaw with a papoose strapped on her back appeared with a very sad face and with a buffalo robe for clothing tied around her waist with a rawhide piece of leather or tong. The papoose was moaning and crying obviously sick, and the mother sat down on the dirt floor of the cabin weaving to and fro to comfort the baby. Janie asked what was wrong with the child. The squaw patting her own stomach explained the papoose had been kicked in the stomach by a Pongo or horse. Janie found bread and butter but the child was too sick to eat, so Janie took the last spoonful of sugar she had in the tea cup up in a dry goods box nailed up in the corner of the log cabin for a cupboard. The papoose tried to eat the sugar for this was a great treat for the white people let alone the Indians, but he vomited all over.
A very dark Indian man came following her footprints across a log that was cut down and laid across the creek for a foot bridge and up the trail to the house. He didn't knock but slowly walked in looking blacker than a thunder cloud. He went straight to the old squaw and began talking in the Indian tongue uttering strange sounds. Janie could tell he was wanting her to go but she would not, he kicked her, pushed her, but she would not go an inch farther than he forced her to go. She stood braced there in the dooryard and finally he took the papoose off its mother's back and swung it over his own. He took up a large boulder from the creek bed and began to beat her on the head, a measured beat, thud, thud, thud, the blood began to run down the buffalo robes and congealed around where it was tied at her waist. He would kick her, push her, beat her, and so by force he got her up the trail that ran along the side of the creek until they were out of sight. Just put yourself in Janie's shoes and what this terrible thing meant to her. She dared not to interfere for the settlers were told by Brigham Young not to interfere in any of the Indian's affairs, but Aunt Sally Noble, the wife of our late President Noble of the Logan Temple could speak quite well the Indian tongue so she came running saying, "Mean, mean Indian, no kill the squaw. God will punish you, the Great Spirit will not help you any more." On inquiry she was told that this cruel buck Indian, father of the injured child, had held the mother responsible for the child's being kicked in the stomach by a horse in camp. She learned that from his cruel beatings she had died that night in her wickiup a short distance up the canyon.
The home of Nathan and Jane was blessed with three children while they lived in the fort in Smithfield. William or Willie, Mary, and Nathan Jr. (cemetery marker). Jane spent the summer while Nate went on another mission across the plains for more supplies and more immigrants, this took about three months time to go and come.
William P Smith, father of Nathan had accumulated a great number of cattle and horses and needed more open country for them to graze. He got Nate to take them on shares. So through necessity he and Jane had to look for a new home farther out on the frontier. During those years they had made many dear friends. Both were gifted and blessed with good voices. Jane could sing any part, soprano, high soprano, alto or tenor. In the Cache Valley they formed a dramatics club and made tours during the winter time to all the new growing settlements in this part of the territory. Jane took the leading part as heroine in the plays and was in great demand in the community. She was greatly loved by all who knew her. Thus I have been told by many of the old settlers. When her name would be mentioned the older folks would say, "O yes, we all remember her on the stage as one of our most outstanding citizens. She was so talented." Think what this must have meant to our Janie, to leave her home, her friends, loved ones, and this community life, being a leader, and move miles away from any neighbor.
It was while she dwelt in Smithfield that the Conner's Army from California came and almost annihilated the fierce tribes, who had taken so many lives of the settlers. Since then the Indians were more civilized. At the close of this battle, which was known as the Battle Creek Indian War, Jane and Nate moved to the old home, where what is now known as Banida, Idaho (map), but they thought they were settling in Utah.
Nate built a log cabin on the bank of a small creek, about two miles from where the head water came out of the springs and ran down a channel cut into the rolling hills and then opened out into a level valley; just a perfect sight for a ranch, smooth enough to irrigate every foot without levees, fills, flumes, or any other man-made ditches.
When this cabin, about 18' x 20', was built, a wagon load of home equipment, furniture, bedding, groceries, and not very much of any of these things, appeared. There was a young beautiful mother, three robust children, a western stockman for a husband, and a lonely prairie home, miles from anyone in any direction. Do you envy Janie? Of her new adventures she often has said, that she did not envy even Queen Victoria on her throne when she moved into her home with the love of her husband, her three children, some cows, horses, a few sheep; to use the wool and make blankets, a woolen cloth used for dresses, and plenty of milk, butter, and cheese; and health to milk, sew, weave, spin and raise a family of children here in the valley of the mountains that had been spoken of by the Prophets of old.
We were so far from any community, so that there were no schools. Mother knowing how to read, for she had attended high school in Middlewich, Cheshire, England, read everything she could get to read. She taught us children to read, write, and work; yes, to work, for if we did not work we could not eat. As you can see we had to earn our bread by the sweat of our face. We had stock on the shares and one half went to Grandfather William P Smith in Union Fort--South of Salt Lake City just out of the city limits.
So in Idaho in this log cabin, the following children were born: Margaret Smith Griffiths, 1871; John 1873; Thomas 1876: George Albert 1878; Alice 1880; Maria 1882; Harriet Ann 1885; Sarah 1888, thus making eight children.
Jane gave birth to twelve children, two died in early life: Eliza with diphtheria on Christmas morning and Johnnie, his mother's beloved child, at the age of three. Just picture what this log cabin could tell of the great grief and sorrow in this home on Christmas morning, for Eliza said goodby to her family, loving mother and father, and asked them to hang up her stocking. Jane often spoke about it, how just as the morning came to herald in Christmas in the Smith home Eliza died. The other ten children all grew up to man and womanhood. They all married and raised a family of children. They all went to the house of the Lord and were sealed for time and eternity. Just imagine the joy of Jane when she went to the other side to meet each one as they followed her, to know they had done this very important work.
Times change and things were not the same, for the railroad came through as far as our home and the terminal was there in our field, the end of the Narrow Gage railroad. A town (Dunnville) grew up over night, tents, lumber offices, shops and mercantile institutions. Jane made a business of her own; she ran a boarding house. She had an addition put on the east end of the old log cabin propered out of wide boards, etc., where the men dined and then a lean-to at the north side that she used for a kitchen. She and the girls did the cooking and the waiting on tables. Quite a change from making cheese and golden butter on the shares to pay Grandfather Smith his rent on his cows.
By now the open stock range was getting more settled and Mary Ann Smith married George Stoll and they took the Smith stock and horses out the Wyoming way, but Jane had made thousands of pounds of cheese and golden butter that each fall Tom and Hyrum came with their father's big team and hauled it back to Utah for their use and part of the increase on the cattle. They had to break the new heifers and milk, by hand, carry it and strain it in tin pans, skim the cream off and mellow or ripen the cream. Then we had to churn it into butter, in a round wooden churn with an upright-dash, and it really took man power, but in this case it was furnished by woman power. We churned the butter, then worked the buttermilk out of it with a homemade butter paddle and salted it ready for use, then we worked it into a great round ball and put it into brine to keep it fresh until fall. That was the reason for building the cheese and milk room that joined on the west end of the Smith mansion. Four feet dug into the earth and two large logs laid on the ground around the top and then a foot of good dry dirt for roofing and to keep it cool. The milk cupboards were there for many years after the dairying was done and this new life came for Jane and her family. Can you imagine the work, the worry, the many steps, early and late a mother would have, to be raising a family and doing all these things at the same time. Jane's babies came along about every two years.
The boom of Dunnville came and went. When the railroad was surveyed about four miles west of our ranch and on through Pocatello and Boise, Idaho, and all other points west to the Pacific, Jane went back to a lonely life there in the ghost town. This had a tendency to make the older children dissatisfied and they began to look for other ways and means of living and making a living as you can see. Jane was the mother of little helpless children and yet she had to watch her older ones move away to find employment and so on. Can you see and understand her feelings, her heart felt sorrow, and the lonely home life.
It seems there were many who came to the old home for miles around for enjoyment, bringing accordions, mouth organs, violins, and almost all of that generation could play these musical instruments by ear. Jane's family and her side of the family are gifted with good voices and an ear for music. All could recite and all could sing. Mother Jane wrote many poems and short stories and all of us children remember well how Dad would take out his pocket size hymn book and we all would sing almost every evening. "The Seer, the Seer, Joseph the Seer" also "An Angel from on High" were Dad's favorites. He lived near the Prophet's home and was there when the two Smiths were murdered. Jane's family song was: "I'll Praise My Maker While I've Breath", Her mother, Mary Sant, as she passed away sang these words, her mouth was following the words until her spirit left her earthly body of clay. Jane asked her children to please sing this for her. Jane's father sang this in England and going on down the stream of life. Jane made this request, at the very last, that her children and grandchildren sing this at her funeral. She said, "I will, if I can, join in and help you sing it." The family, though it cast many tears, did sing this dear beautiful hymn. Some of the grandchildren said they couldn't sing for they all loved her dearly so Mary, her oldest daughter and noble minded as always, seeking to do the things her mother wished, said: "Why of course you can, and you will sing this song. It is our mother's last wish, of course we will sing it." So we did!
Now going back to our home life after Dunnville had come and passed out of Jane's life forever. The water dried up, the land became less productive due to dry seasons and no irrigation systems were established. Nathan grew older and Jane's health failed her, for when we last girls were born, her nerves failed her and in the coming and going of things life became hard. Ann was even born on the front porch, which was the old side of a freight wagon that Nathan had used in freighting from Dunnville to mines up north in Boise, Eagle Rock, Idaho Falls, Butte, Montana, and all the older settlements that were just mining towns. Nate had hitched old Joe and Dan, the family horse team, to a lumber wagon and had to drive about eight or nine miles to get to dear old Aunt Jane Howells home. She was a midwife, or a God-given gift to all women living in this vicinity for she was a learned person as far as midwifery was concerned, a woman of God, a neighbor, friend, and doctor all in one. Jane could not wait any longer for Nate, her nerves were too upset and Mother Nature pressed and due to this, baby Ann was born on the front doorstep. Just for a moment, please, mothers of today think of this dear pioneer life and what it all cost our mothers. I for one do thank my dear mother Jane for my chance to live, for her giving me this tabernacle of flesh that my spirit could come to earth and live in the flesh. May Jane's crown be pure gold for what she suffered to bare me and what she went through in pains, suffering in body and mind to give me a chance to live, for her teachings, for her love, for her pure clean living that gave me a clean body and mind. She lived and died in my home and if I gave her any sorrow for any fault of mine, I do pray today for her forgiveness and I still need her blessing and help ( ed. note: Spoken by Maria her daughter, one of the last three of her children who are left living at this time, July 1956).
She was a great teacher, a great leader and all who knew her loved her. And many of the younger generations remember her as our dear Sunday School Teacher. In politics she was learned and could tell anyone the government rules, laws, and organizations. She knew what ticket she was going to vote and why. She wrote on woman suffrage and added a great deal to the passing of the law to allow women to vote. She wrote poems on the theme of loving and kindness of mothers to children and everyone who ever met Janie Sant Smith loved her, I know.
Jane, Nate, and we four girls were left on the old farm. Due to sickness in the nearby brother's family, Mother Jane did a great deal of nursing. Nathan, as he had grown older and things were not going too well, sold the old log cabin and homestead and timber culture claims to Geddes. Jane moved to Cleveland with her children who had moved and made their homes there. Nathan bought a little home in Oxford, Idaho and lived there but neither of them were ever the same. I don't think a day ever passed but their hearts went out reaching for their mates.
Jane built a little house on a lot her son, Nathan, gave her, but I never can understand why, for it took from her the only real comfort she seemed to have in her declining years. Her little beloved home burned to the ground, and nothing of her life's long living and cherished things were saved. Her book of records and writings I would cherish today were also burned. The many poems, stories, and family records all went up in flames. I would prize today these things but we must replace them by compiling one of our own and for each family. If we could all know Janie, our mother, we would reverently love and cherish her and the memories of her and for what she forever stood, true to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The last words we girls could tell she was speaking were, "My children are so dear to me, and the Lord has always been so good to me." She dreamed (or was it a dream) two weeks before her passing, when she was not apparently as well as usual, that Nate came and held her in his arms. And oh, how she did cry, as if her heart would break. Ann asked, "Would you be happy to go back to the time Nate held you thus?" And dear Jane, our mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother answered, "Nothing could make me so happy, the queens of kingdoms could not know the joy this would give me." So we knew this was our answer.
Jane Sant Smith passed away from a stroke February 6, 1918 at Maria Smith Prescott's home in Cleveland, Bannock County, Idaho. Her funeral was held at Cleveland, Idaho, February 9, 1918 and she was taken and laid to rest by the side of Nate in Smithfield, Utah cemetery. We all earnestly pray he has taken her into his arms as the last words Nathan ever said before his passing, "My Janie, your mother."
Maggie Smith Griffiths and I, Maria Smith Prescott were appointed administrators of her estate after her death. The graves and lot on which they rest have a perpetual upkeep paid on them forever or as long as their bodies rest there in peace until the resurrection.
This is only a short sketch of Jane Sant Smith's life as she lived it, as I remember it and as it has been told to me from her own lips. Her greatest love was her family and the true Church of Jesus Christ. She worked and held many positions of honor and trust during her life. She was a gifted, talented, God-fearing woman and we all as her descendants can well be proud of her as our progenitor.
Amen.
May God bless and may his Holy Spirit make her happy always.
(photograph of Jane Sant with her brothers)