J OSIAH AND A NNA W OODARD F LINT

PARENTS OF WILLIAM FLINT

Josiah Flint was born in Connecticut in 1784. He was the youngest son of Luke and Mary Slate Flint. Shortly after
Josiah was born, his father Luke disappeared. After waiting seven years with no word, his mother remarried. While
waiting, when the boys were old enough, they were “bound out.” Josiah was bound out to his Uncle Josiah Hall and his
brother Nathan to his Uncle Elisha Flint. This meant that these men were responsible for educating and teaching the
boys how to work and be responsible citizens. In return, the boys were to show respect and a willingness to learn.
Josiah moved with his uncle to Onondaga County, New York where a square mile of fertile farm land was
purchased. Here he learned the art of farming. In 1810, he married Anna Woodard. In 1814, having learned that
western New York was open for settlement, Josiah and Anna loaded their wagon and went to Steuben County.
Land at this time was only 18 shillings an acre, but few people could buy it outright and preferred long term
mortgages. It wasn’t until 1832 when Josiah and Anna made their last mortgage payment on the fifty acres they had
chosen. They stayed on the land throughout the summer making what improvements they could and living by the “gun”
because the land was not yet productive. During the winter they moved into the village. Anna was expecting their third
child and they wanted to be near help when the time came.
They returned to the farm the next summer which turned out to be especially difficult. This second summer was
called the year without a summer because it froze every month of the year and nothing could be harvested. This meant
that again they had to rely on the gun rather than the soil to exist.
It was important to keep a fire going at all times for protection against wild animals as well as for cooking and
warmth. Occasionally when it went out, Josiah would have to go to the neighbors for some hot coals. This meant going
2 or 3 miles through heavily wooded areas. He got lost a time or two and had to spend the night in a tree before he was
able to figure out the way home.
It wasn’t unusual for Indians to stop by the cabin to trade. One day an Indian squaw with her papoose strapped to
a board came to trade baskets for bread. When finished, they started down the path. They were scarcely out of sight
when Anna heard a piercing scream. She ran to see what was wrong. The squaw was hanging onto a tree branch just
barely out of reach of one of the neighbor’s razorback pigs. An angry razorback pig was something to be feared. The
pig could reach the fringe of the squaw’s shoulder blanket, but could not get a good hold. Each time he tried, the squaw
would scream. Grabbing some rocks and a big stick, Anna yelled for the pig to get away. She was able to drive the
pig away and to keep him away until the squaw climbed down and was on her way. The squaw always considered this
a very brave deed and was forever grateful to Anna.
Their children were raised strictly in the Methodist faith. Their son, William, didn’t always do as he was taught. One
Sunday, he went fishing with his friends and soon had a nice catch of six fish. When getting ready to go home, he
realized his father would not be pleased for he would know that William had been fishing on Sunday. So he dug a hole
in the sand near the stream, wrapped his fish in leaves and buried them. When he reached home, he asked his father
if he could go fishing early the next morning. The next morning he retrieved his fish and returned home with them. His
family was so pleased that he had gotten such a nice catch in such a short time. They all praised him for being such
a good fisherman. It wasn’t until years later that the truth came out.
As a lad, William was strong with broad shoulders and weighed about 200 pounds. He was a real help to his father
as he learned the art of farming – their tool against starvation.
 W ILLIAM AND M ARY J ANE G OODRIDGE F LINT

William and Permelia Brown Flint heard the gospel and were baptized in New York in 1844 by Orson Hyde. In
1848, they sold their land in Batavia, New York and moved to Nauvoo, Illinois. Before leaving to go west, William went
to visit his parents. When his father learned that he had joined with “those awful Mormons,” he ordered William out of
the house and told him never to come again. His mother followed him outside and told him “half of the house was hers
and he was welcome in that half whenever he wished.”
Shortly after arriving in Nauvoo, Permelia took their two children – a son and a daughter – and left William to return
to her family. The children died shortly after. While living there, William was part of Lt. Wells company of the Nauvoo
Legion.
While crossing the plains to the Salt Lake Valley in 1848, William drove a team for Mary Fielding Smith, the widow
of Hyrum Smith, from near Winter Quarters to the “three crossings of the Sweetwater.” Here he returned to help others
along the trail including being a scout for the Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball companies. In 1850, while assisting
some companies in their trek across the plains, he met Mary Jane Goodridge and her family in the Wilford Woodruff
company. Mary Jane was with her parents, five sisters and a ten year-old brother. She had driven the ox team all the
way from Massachusetts. Their father had been quite ill during the trip. They had brought along a cow which was tied
to the back of the wagon. Wilford Woodruff baptized Mary Jane in the Platt River, with her father and brother, while on
the trail. The others had been baptized earlier in Massachusetts.
Stampedes of ox teams were common. They would start without apparent warning. The teams usually had two
to five yoke of oxen for each wagon and there were usually thirty to forty wagons traveling together. Mary Jane had a
narrow escape during one stampede. She was barely able to get control her ox team. She often said that those who
had not witnessed a stampede could not imagine the confusion and dangers that were present. The oxen would just
run regardless of who or what was in the way. One woman lost her life during this one and many were injured.
After reaching the valley, William summoned up the courage to ask Mary Jane to marry him. She was surprised
and flattered, but answered “why I hardly know you, as a matter of fact it hasn’t been very long ago that we met.” William
agreed but asked her to check with Heber C. Kimball about his character and respectability. She was told that William
was an exceptional man and she would do well to marry him. Apostle Kimball married them on Christmas Eve, 1850.
William and Mary Jane were called on to help colonize Farmington – north of Salt Lake. They lived in a dugout
with a dirt floor until they had enough logs to build a cabin. The snakes were numerous. One time William, Mary Jane,
and her brother, George, were at the table, when a great snake dropped down, hanging by his tail, over a pail of milk.
Another time, William noticed a snake curled up under the chair where Mary Jane was sitting. He didn’t want to alarm
her because she was in “a delicate condition,” so he asked her to go outside for a moment. Then he stepped back in
and killed the snake, but didn’t let her know about it until much later.
William was an Indian war veteran and was called away from home often. One day when he was gone, an Indian
came into the home and demanded the rifle standing in the corner. Mary Jane said no, but he jumped across the bed
and grabbed it. He was pointing the gun at her, when the dog grabbed him by the leg. With a yowl, the Indian put the
gun down and begged her to call off the dog. He was badly hurt, so Mary Jane bathed and dressed the wound and
allowed him to rest. When William came home, he was permitted to stay all night. The trusty dog stood guard all night.
Although the family suffered many hardships, Mary Jane related of many times when she gave flour to the
neighbors and it seemed like none had ever been taken out.
In 1856, the family moved to Salt Lake City near Mary Jane’s parents. A log house with a sod roof was built for
the family. William grew vegetables on land nearby. People admired his garden for the rows were so straight. This
project brought food for the family and provided some income for they sold some of the produce. Mary Jane acquired
a loom and began the art of weaving linsey woolsey, a finely textured material for dresses. She also wove wool carpets
and rag rugs.
About this time Mary Jane’s sister, Harriet, lived with them while she taught school. Education was extremely
important to them.
In 1864 when on their way to have a family picture taken, William was trampled by a runaway horse. Mary Jane’s
mother wrote in her journal that he “was deprived of his reason for hours and was very much injured otherwise.” He was
ill for a long time and was never able to do hard work again.
William helped dig ditches and canals to bring water to the Valley for the crops and gardens. He also helped bring
granite slabs for the temple and nearby buildings. It took four span of horses to haul one block of stone. The temple
blocks had to be perfectly cut and sized.
One November day in 1866, a severe snow storm came. The snow was so heavy and deep that the roof of the
home fell in – burying Mary Jane, who was eight months pregnant, and two of the children for a brief time. The new baby
came before the roof had been completely repaired and rain came through the holes. Several umbrellas were used to
keep the rain off of the mother and baby during the birth.
Mary Jane died in January 1883. She had been suffering for a year with breast cancer and was bed-ridden most
of this time. Very little was known at that time about how to alleviate the pain. Her family had high praises for her
fortitude in enduring the pain. Her children were grown – the youngest being seventeen. Five of the eight were married.
William spent the last few years of his life with his daughter Valeria and her husband Edward Laird. He died in 1890.
 B ENJAMIN AND P ENELOPE G ARDNER G OODRIDGE
P ARENTS OF M ARY JANE G OODRIDGE
THE WESTWARD TREK
The Goodridge family crossed the plains in 1850 in the Wilford Woodruff company. The following is a description
of their family: “In Capt. Hardy’s camp there was a family by the name of Goodridge, father, mother, several young girls
and an ll-year-old boy. They were a musical family, full of fun and possessing the happy faculty of making the best and
most of every situation. The girls sang and danced; they gathered berries on the way; they laughed. But they also
counted the graves and wondered about the sadness and hardships of the travelers and wept for those who were left
behind on the prairie. They helped nurse the sick, washed and mended, cooked and carried water; they knew how to
work. When necessary they would wade streams without complaining, shake the dust out of their clothing without
resentment and gather buffalo chips without disgust. They could fall on their knees night and morning and thank their
Heavenly Father for their health and strength, their safety, their food and clothing, and the boundless sea of grass that
paved their way to freedom.”
One of the daughters, Sophia, kept a daily journal and wrote about finding gooseberries, and later picking twelve
quarts of cherries. One time they picked thirty-three quarts of buffalo berries which look like red currants and made good
sauce and pies. Another time they picked twelve quarts of hawberries to make vinegar.
She recorded a stampede of the animals in one of the divisions. Mary Jane was driving a yoke of oxen and
narrowly escaped death. Mary Jane told of the helpless feeling during one. One could only pray that what they did
would be enough. After the animals were settled down and camp was made to repair the damages, the buffalo cows
nearby kept bellowing which sounded like distant thunder. There was a worry that they would come down through the
camp.
One time some horses had turned up missing and some Indians came into camp saying they had found some
horses and wondered if they had lost some. A few men went with them taking some items to trade. When they reached
the Indian village there were about three hundred warriors and a thousand horses. As it turned out the Indians had taken
the horses and expected to be paid for returning them. She told how the Indians had lost one of the horses, an “ugly”
horse which took several Indian horses with it.
Sophia made note of the graves they passed and commented on the sadness they signified. Many had no
markers. She recorded those in the group who had sicknesses or died. Her writings show compassion for the families
who had to endure these tragedies.
The Goodridge girls, especially Sophia, had beautiful voices and they sang as they traveled. Sophia had studied
music in Massachusetts and they brought along her melodeon which is a small keyboard organ which operated with
bellows.
Stops along the way were necessary for repairing wheels and other needed items. Often during these stops the
men “burned coal.” This means they burned the wood slowly in such a way as to make charcoal which burns hotter and
the iron rim on the wheels could be heated and the wheels repaired.
She described the prairie as a sea of grass and one camp on the Platt river as a great place to bathe. Devil’s Gate
was described as a curious freak of nature with perpendicular rocks rising 400 feet in the air. In one place the gap
between them is only two feet wide. The Sweetwater River flows through the gap. She wrote how some of them crossed
it on foot for the novelty of it.
The Goodridge trip from Massachusetts to the Valley took 188 days. When they reached the Valley in the middle
of October, Sophia wrote “I thought at first: ‘Have I got to spend the rest of my days here in this dreary looking place?’
But I soon felt all right about it and loved my mountain home.”
 B ENJAMIN AND P ENELOPE G ARDNER G OODRIDGE
P ARENTS OF M ARY JANE G OODRIDGE
PENELOPE ’S JOURNAL
Shortly after the death of her husband, Benjamin, Penelope started a journal which she called “My Book.” She
recorded some of the events in her life as well as her thoughts and memories. She starts out: “For the past few months
I have at times felt very lonely, having no one in my family but my son, George, and he, like other youngsters almost
always away, and so to pass off some of my lonesome hours methinks I will pass some of them in writing down a few
incidents as I pass along through life.” George was about 21 at this time.
Benjamin’s death and her thoughts (Feb 1860)
My husband, Benjamin Goodridge died on the 2nd day of last December (1859) about 9 o’clock in the forenoon.
He had been in a very strange and singular way for some years. I know not the cause, but I know he was a great
sufferer in his mind by spells. I passed through so much with him I don’t want to reflect upon it. . . . Although he was an
invalid for many years, he seemed like a kind of a protector which I very much miss. . . . I believe he is happy for he
showed himself to me immediately after we started from the graveyard. He looked so fair and pleasant and so very
natural, he could not be otherwise than happy. I felt that it was but a step between us and that I should soon be with
him. . . .that evening as I was reflecting on the transaction of the day, came near saying to Harriet and Esther . . . “I want
you to have my burial clothes in readiness,” but did not say it for fear they would think it strange for mother to make such
a request. . . . I have no work but the work of salvation . . . . I have all the necessaries of life . . . . My children . . . are
very kind, not one of them would willingly hurt my feelings in the least but rather would try to make me happy as far as
their circumstances will admit. My sons-in-law are equally kind. My grandchildren appear to be fond of me. I have a
pleasant home which as yet I can call my own, but it is so lonesome at times.
(She refers to her sons-in-law as Mr. Flint, Brother Hovey and Bishop or Brother Hardy.)
A blessing (Dec 1860)
Brother Hovey called to see me. I was very glad he did. He talked with me, he prayed with me and he laid his
hands upon my head and blest me with the blessings of health, that my age should be renewed from that very hour and
that I should feel like as if I was in my teens, that I should live many years, even as long as life was desirable. I should
go to the center stake of Zion if I desired it, that I should go into the Celestial Kingdom, should be one of the one hundred
and forty-four thousand that should come up on Mount Zion, that the holy angels should be roused about to protect me.
The Holy Ghost should comfort me and teach me things present and things to come, and that my blood should course
through my veins from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet and renovate my system, I should be like Sarah of
old, and many more things that I do not recollect at this time. . .”
Her son, George, and his family (Mar 1861)
George has just come in and says: “Mother, they have called on me to go with one of the teams back East to help
fetch in the poor Saints. Do you think you can spare your dear son to do so?” It was giving me something of a trial, but
I considered it for the best and said “go” . . . (Apr 1861) George started for the East. I accompanied him as far as the
Bishop’s and there parted with him with a heavy heart, asking God to protect him. After staying at Brother Hardy’s a few
days I returned to my lonely home for I was in truth alone.
(Bishop Hardy had married three of the Goodridge sisters and one of their homes
was Hardy’s Station in Parley’s Canyon. It was a stop-over for travelers.)
(Nov 10, 1862) George started with me to go to the Station. We called at Brother Taggart’s. Took Eliza along with
us. Found a new married couple there and as the disease is catching. George was attacked so he came home with
a wife by his side. They were married by Elder James Laird. (Nov 20, 1862) George has taken his wife, Eliza Taggart,
to live with me. I hope I shall like her. It will not be so lonely.
Stroke, daughter Lusannah, son George
 (Jan 1, 1869) The first day in the year 1869. It is such a long time since I have kept a journal. Well, I have been
hither and thither so much that I have not settled anywhere. Two years ago I had a stroke of numb palsy, or a paralytic
stroke or something of that nature. It was not severe. Last May, Joseph Hovey died, left his wife, my daughter
Lusannah, with seven children. In a few months had another, and she only 35 years old. Last October conference my
son, George, was called to go south to help build up a new place called St. Joseph, Nevada Territory, and on the 4th of
November 1868, he with his family, six in number, started for their new home. It was rather hard parting with my only
son, but I believe it all for the best.
“Better Than Them All”
(The following poem was written in the album of George’s wife, Harriet.)
A moderate share of wealth is good to cheer us on our way,
For it has oftentimes the power to make December May;
And so is beauty, so is health, or genius, at our call;
But a happy, loving, careless heart is better than them all.

A heart that gathers hope and faith from every springing flower,
That smiles alike at winter storm and gentle summer shower;
That blesses God for every good or whether great or small;
Oh! A happy, hopeful, loving heart is better than them all.

A heart that with the magic notes of music is beguiled;

A heart that loves the pleasant face of every little child;
That aideth weakness in distress and heareth duty’s call.
Oh! Such a loving, human heart is better than them all.

(May 1869) Brother Hardy has lately had a letter from George. Poor boy, he seems sadly tried in the furnace of
adversity. I hope he will come out unscathed; it is a good school for him. Hitherto, he has not had the trials which have
been the lot of many of the Latter-day Saints. I hope he will bear it all with patience, come off the conqueror, have plenty
of faith with good work.
“If a weary task you find it, persevere and never mind it.”
Writing her history
(Jan 21, 1869) The last time I met with Female Relief Society they made a statement that they wanted the sisters
to write something to be read in the meetings. They did not care what the subject was whether poetry, dialogue, history
or anything they chose. So I wrote the following bit of history:

I am seventy-five years old, and when I look back upon my past life it seems but yesterday, or but a few years
at most, since I, in my childish glee, was playing with my brothers and sisters around my own father’s hearthstone,
and where are they now, an Echo says where, ah! Some of them are gone to that bourn from whence no traveler
returns, and gone too without hearing the sound of the everlasting Gospel as it is declared to us in this last
dispensation.
As I grew to womanhood my mind became more serious, being impressed with the idea that here was something
more for me to do than to eat, drink, and be merry; and as religious meetings were common, revival meetings frequent,
I attended many of them and in the process of time had my name enrolled with the Wesleyan Episcopal Methodist,
and for nearly twenty years I was a member of that Society. Had many reasons of rejoicing with them, believing they
were the best people there were in the world, because they were the most persecuted of any people or sect that I
knew of in those days.
Something over twenty years ago my brother, George Gardner, (who is now in Arizona) came to make me a visit.
 He brought the truths of the Gospel with him, taught them to me. I believed and embraced the same. I came out from
the Methodist, was led into the waters of Baptism by an Elder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on
the 2nd of September, 1849; in the spring of 1850, I, with my family, started from the Eastern states, even
Massachusetts, for the valley of the mountains and arrived here in the October following. Did I make any sacrifice?
Not in my feelings, but as the saying is “our property went for a song.” I did not care for that if, I only could get to the
Valley. I am here, and not for one moment have I ever wished myself back again. I can see the hand of the Lord has
been over me for good even from my childhood up to the present time; nevertheless, I have had many trials, troubles,
and afflictions to pass through, but the Lord has sustained me. Even now in my old age He is my comforter and my
guide, praise be to His Holy name.
The Elder who baptized me first into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was L. W. Hardy, and it was
through his instrumentality that I and my family were gathered to the Valley of the mountains. He has proved to be
an undeviating friend to me and mine ever since I came here. He has three of my daughters for wives, he fitted out
George for his southern mission by taking my lot, and is to provide for me while I live and I feel pretty safe in his care.

The Tabernacle (Jun 1869)

For the past three Sabbaths we have had strangers preach to us in the new Tabernacle. There has been many strangers
passing through here of late and many distinguished guests have made it their pleasure or profit, or out of curiosity, or
whatever you have a mind to call it, to stop a few days and some attend meetings.
The Grasshoppers (Jul 1869)
The grasshoppers were very numerous 5 or 6 weeks ago. The day they came we heard them in the air. The sound for
hours was like a mighty rushing of waters at a little distance. Then they began to come down to earth, and the way they eat
everything ain’t slow! I fear if they stop 24 hours there will not be much green stuff left even the fruit trees are covered.
The Old Folk’s Excursion (May 1875)
We were to start out on the Western train at 7 o’clock, but on account of getting us old cripples seated, there was a delay
of an hour. Then we started, and a most lovely ride we had for over 20 miles. Came to Clinton’s Hotel where we stopped and
were refreshed with food and drink. With prayer and singing, speech making, with music on the organ, having a good time
generally, about one o’clock we went aboard the steamboat on the Salt Lake. It was a very calm day and the way we did skim
it over the lake for about 2 hours was delightful. Then after this was over, music was resorted to, and songs, with more
speeches, until 5 o’clock when we again took to the cars. There were 244 people on that excursion. One old gent in his 96th
year, one old lady 91 . . . The cars were soon on the easy move for home. For a few miles we were deliciously carried along;
all at once there was a thud, a crash, and the cars stopped. On examination it was found that the baggage car had some bolt
broke which let the bottom down with the contents of the car, no great damage. By throwing off the damaged car and adjusting
the rails for several feet, in about an hour we were moving again. Arrived at the depot about 8 o’clock in the evening, and all
free of cost except the cup of tea. It was the most enjoyable day that I can ever remember having in my long life. Even the
break on the road did not mar my feelings.
Her final entry (May 1875) (She died seven months later.)
Well, my book is nearly full, and I guess it is time for I can scarcely see the ruling on the paper. I have been a long time
in writing it, but it has afforded me some comfort, and amusement, in some of my lonely hours which have not been a few.
I am now 81 years and 5 months old lacking one day. I do feel thankful to my Heavenly Father that I can do as well as I have.
. . . God be praised for all his goodness to me. I close this 26th of May 1875.
“I am waiting by the river, I am watching on the shore,
Only waiting for the boatman, Soon he’ll come to bear me o’er.”