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THE BOX
By Gaylen K. Bunker
Copyright 2008 Gaylen K. Bunker
Introduction A beautiful Saturday morning in the middle of May is without doubt perfection. On such a day in 1980 and with the unlimited opportunities of the world arrayed before me the telephone rang. I was surprised to hear Uncle Elwood on the other end of the line. Living across the valley from one another and absorbed in our own lives, we usually saw each other only at family get-togethers a couple of times each year. After briefly catching up on family news, he said, "I've got a box of Grandma Bunker's records in my garage. I've had this box of records ever since she died in 1944, and I'm about to clean out the garage and get rid of it. I know that you're interested in genealogy, and so I thought you might like to rescue it. If you come right out I'll give the box and everything in it to you." "I'll be right there," I said quickly. I had heard stories for years about Grandma Mary Bunker’s research into her ancestors. It
was a passion for her and resulted in uncovering much of what the family knew
about bygone generations. Her investigations
and sleuthing were more fascinating and interesting to her than any world travel
or mystery novel. It was said that she had traced her roots back as far as the
Mayflower, but when she applied for acceptance into the Mayflower society was sumarily rejected. They said that somewhere along the way a
polygamist marriage was considered illigitimate and
she could not claim direct succession. She was crushed, but continued on to be
one of the pioneers in what was to become the greatest collection of geneological materials in the world, The LDS Church Family
History Center in No one can understand the exitement and anticipation I felt as I drove across the city to Uncle Elwood's home. I've always been interested in family history, and the prospect of a great discovery of old family records filled me with anticipation. He lived on a cul-de-sac in one of the nicer subdivisions of the city. It was a well cared for red brick home with a white lamppost set on a neatly manicured lawn. I parked in front and walked up the newly swept cement drive as the two-car garage door raised to the sound of a motor. As I walked into the garage to greet Uncle Elwood, I tingled with excitement. We walked to a corner where he pulled back an old canvas to reveal a strange-looking wooden box that seemed so totally out of place among the contemporary garage parifanalia. There was no telling how old it was for the outer surface was dark and well worn. Not wanting to appear too anxious, I patiently listened as Elwood explained how Grandma Mary Bunker had kept all her genealogy work in the strange box under her bed when the papers were not covering the dining room table. Mary had a vision of people knowing who they are by learning about their ancestors. This box of records was the work of that dream. When she suddenly died, her genealogy files and the box were given to her youngest son, Elwood. He took the box home and though moving several times it remained virtually untouched for thirty-six years. When our brief visit ended, he helped me carry the box to my car and place it on the front seat. Sitting in the driver's seat next to it, a spiritual warmth filled my soul as I gently ran my hand across the top of the box to gather a sense of its character. The box was approximately 24 inches long, 15 inches wide, and ten inches tall. The lid resting on top appeared to have once been hinged at one side. At home, I carefully set the box on the kitchen table and inspected it more closely. The box was obviously well made by a skilled craftsman who took great pains with every detail, but the intervening years had added significant character to the it. I thought the box must be extremely old for it seemed almost petrified with stains, nicks, and gashes everywhere. Also, the box appeared to have been dropped several times judging by its damaged edges and corners. I lifted the lid and began to look through the jumbled mess of letters, papers, and notes, carefully removing the first document that I came to. I had just begun to read when I heard a knock at the front door and the voices of my parents. As I greeted them, they entered the kitchen and Mom, noticing the box, said, "What have you got?" Before I could respond, Dad enjoined, "Why, it's Grandma Bunker's box! Where did you get it?" "Elwood gave it to me," I responded. "Do you know anything about it?" "I know everything about that box. In a way, it saved my life," he said. I was taken aback as we all sat around the kitchen table and Dad related the following story. Chapter 1 In 1903, when Grandma Mary Terry Bunker was expecting her first child, she and Grandpa Ezra were living in the small rural town of Bunkerville Nevada. One day as they were visiting Ezra's mother, a skilled mid-wife, she looked at her daughter-in-law and said, "Ezra you must take Mary to St. George where she can have a doctor's care. She is going to need one." "Well, there's plenty of time. It's more than a month off yet," Ezra said. "No, there isn't plenty of time. You must go as soon as you can. There are going to be two babies," she replied. At first Ezra and Mary thought she was joking. They talked it over and didn't see how they could make the trip just then, as St. George was 50 miles away and would take most of two days by horse and wagon through the narrow canyon passes. A few days later, they visited Ezra's mother again and she said, "Are you ready to make the trip? You have a team and a wagon, and as to affording it, you can't afford not to go." Finally
convinced that the lives of his wife and babies hung in the balance, Ezra fixed
a comfortable bed in the back of the wagon. Taking Mary’s mother, Hannah
Leavitt Terry, they set out in the wilting heat of late August for St. George,
in the southwestern corner of Not long after Ezra left the babies came. One was a fine, healthy full-term girl, but the other was a much smaller, almost-premature boy. The doctor worked tirelessly for several hours with the baby boy, but became discouraged about his prospects for survival. Ezra was on his return to St. George when a ride came with news that the babies were born and boy had died. Ezra hurried on his way and when he arrived found Mary comforting a new baby girl. He asked about the boy and was directed to a box on the kitchen table. There wrapped in a blue blanket was his tiny son laying very still. Hannah, Mary's mother, approached Ezra and told him the boy was just sleeping and getting stronger. Ezra was amazed to hear the news, “I thought he was dead.” Hannah responded, “We almost lost him last night, but after the doctor had left I remembered the box. This box has been in my family for many generations and always benn an inspiration and comfort to anyone who possessed it. I removed my travelling things from the box and carefully placed the struggling infant within. Almost immediately his color improved and he began to show more life.” Ezra watched his son for a long time and when he went to Mary she said that her mother had promised that if the baby was kept in the box whenever she wasn't caring for him he would survive and grow to be healthy and strong.” Dad looked at me and said, "I'm that baby boy, and the box you have there was Hannah's. When I was very young my mother would sit and tell me the stories of that box." "You mean there are other stories involving the box?" Dad said there was more to tell, but he would save it for another time. Fascinated, I couldn't wait to hear more, and so I went to my parents' home often to listen to the tales of the box. Over the next several months my father related many remarkable stories that I meticulously recorded. Each word he spoke was a strand in the loom of a tapestry depicting a heritage that I became heir to. Dad said, "That box is hundreds of years old. Each stain and mark represents a significant event in our family's history." The following is a compilation of all he told from beginning to end. Chapter 2
In a little office in the back streets
of The assistant placed the precious box on the table next to the scholar who carefully removed the lid revealing the manuscripts whereon was written ancient biblical texts. As the scholar searched for the next manuscript to translate, he carefully took all of the items from the box and spread them on the table. The aide took the box from the table to allow more room for the scholar to work and noticed that one corner of the box had become damp. He placed the box in the adjacent room near an open window facing an alley to dry. The box sat on the window sill all day and into the evening as the scholar worked at his task of producing a new English translation of the Bible for King James. When the box dried, one bottom corner was imprinted with a small water stain, marking its days as a modern arc of the covenant. That evening a man of dubious character was on his way to the pub. As he walked down the street, he spotted a fellow to whom he owed a few quid, and he ducked into the closest alley. There he came upon the open window and the beautiful empty box just sitting there. It was more than he could resist. In a flash he seized the box and was off. He went to the pub with the box wrapped in his coat and slipped into a dark corner. As he sat contemplating how much he might be able to get for the box, a mate came into the pub spouting the news: "Someone stole a box of the King and his head will roll. Guards are out looking for the bloody beggar now." The thief became extremely anxious to unload the box at whatever cost. A fellow named John Billington was playing darts and taking wagers. The thief entered into the match and conveniently lost the box to the unsuspecting Billington. Billington was overjoyed at his good fortune, for he was recently married and the box would make a fine gift for his bride that he otherwise could not afford. Arriving home, John explained to Ellen, his bride, how the box came to be his. Ellen immediately seized the box for her own, and from that day forward it sat in the corner of her room and protected what few treasures she possessed. Eleanor
(Ellen) Longland was born in 1592 and raised in
Spaulding, Ellen and John were extreme opposites. John was a thin, spry, wiry man of independence and adventure. Ellen was a big woman, larger and stronger than her husband. Most gentle women viewed her as coarse and common. Ellen was a freedom-loving woman who loved to watch the great deeds and doings of the world. Her voice would jangle the ear but she was as brave as a lion. She had found her way in life by pushing herself forward and taking her fair lot. Chapter 3
By the fall
of 1620, John Billington was being sought for
numerous debts and was looking for a way out. Acquainted with Captain Jones of
the Mayflower, he became aware that the captain was looking for a few
Englishman to fill out the roster for an adventure to the William Bradford's wrote in his "History of Plimouth
Plantation"? that the Billingtons
were, "one of ye prophanest families amongst
them." From the start, John Billington supported
individual independence and freedom of speech, raising his voice in opposition
whenever he disagreed with those in control, which undoubtedly ruffled The Billingtons traveled to Peter Browne, a nineteen-year-old single man, curious for adventure and opportunity, had also signed up to be a passenger on the Mayflower. The owner of a large mastiff, he was one of only two men to bring a dog on the journey. (A noted descendant of Peter Browne was John Brown of Civil War fame.) Browne's funds were sufficient for the trip, but his trunk had been damaged when it fell from a wagon on the journey to the harbor. John Billington, always one to seize the moment and by now knowing the complete history of the box, offered the wooden box to Browne in return for the balance of the fare needed for his family. Browne was intrigued by the unique combination of simplicity and perfect craftsmanship of the box and paid the asking price. Browne was not aware the box was "hot" and that the person found with it could go to jail. When the ship Speedwell arrived at Southampton from Holland with a group of exiled English Pilgrim Saints, the Mayflower with its group of non-Pilgrims, called Strangers, jointly set sail for the new world on August 5. The Speedwell, however, began taking on water and the two ships returned to port. The Speedwell was found to be unseaworthy and was abandoned. One hundred and five saints and strangers consolidated onto the Mayflower and set sail on September 6. While many passengers elected to remain behind for the next opportunity, the Billingtons and Peter Browne stayed with the Mayflower. The
dramatic and eventful voyage took 66 days and arrived at William
Brewster was the ruling elder of the Separatist church that had left In early December the men decided that they needed some instruction on the use of firearms so they could secure food and defend themselves. As they met on deck one day, Miles Standish and John Alden came up the hatchway and across the deck carrying four matchlocks. The recently oiled guns with heavy downward-curving stocks were old and rusted. The men and some of the curious boys seated themselves in a semi-circle on the deck as Standish began his instruction. "Gar, that ain't no gun, man," John Billington called out from the back row, "that's for poking the fire!" Ignoring Billington, Standish told the men that the gun, simple but sure, was called a matchlock because it was touched off with a smoldering wick or match cord. He said that it had no wheels, flints or steel to misfire, and thus its simplicity provided assurance for consistency of firing? Young Francis Billington, John's son, watched intently throughout the demonstration as various men were trained in the gun's use. Francis wanted a turn but the precedent would open up the need to train all of the young boys, and so he was refused. Sometime
later, several of the men, including John Billington,
went ashore to explore the new land. The women, somewhat intimidated by the
captain’s rough demeanor, unitedly went to Ellen Billington to see if she would approach the captain and ask
if the women could go ashore to do laundry. With his parents thus preoccupied,
young Francis seized the moment. He went below deck where he found a small
barrel of powder about half full and a "fowling piece." He fired off
a couple of rounds from the gun before he was discovered. Besides almost
setting the room on fire, Chapter 4 Francis Cooke, was born in 1583 in Blyth, Nottinghamshire, two miles southwest of the parish of Scrooby, where William Brewster had given birth to the Separatist movement that led to the American Pilgrim adventure. Sherwood Forest was close by, and Francis spent scattered hours of his youth among the trees where the box came from. As a young man he joined with the Separatists in Scrooby and was with the Saints when they left England for the free expression of beliefs in Amsterdam, Holland, in 1608. There he met Hester Mahieu, and they were married. The Separatists moved to Leyden, Holland where four children were born to Francis and Hester: John, Jane, Jacob, and Hester. Hester and
the younger children remained behind while Francis and John went to the Shortly
after arriving at As it turned out, the two men had decided to take their dogs into the woods hunting. Near a pond, Browne's mastiff bitch and Goodman's small spaniel, surprised a big buck. The deer went bounding off deep into the woods, followed by the dogs, and the men chasing behind. Before long the men and their dogs were hopelessly lost and wandered about all afternoon in a cold drizzle that turned to snow. They huddled on the frozen ground as night fell, tired, hungry, and chilled to the bone. Suddenly they heard what sounded like two lions ferouciously roaring near by. The men ran to the nearest tree, intending to climb in case of attack and trying to restrain the mastiff that wanted to go after the lions. Browne and Goodman paced all night and then wandered about most of the next day until they got their bearings and stumbled into camp after dark, "readie to faint with travail and wante of victuals, and almost famished with cold." Though shoes were worth more than gold, Goodman's had to be cut from his swollen, frost-bitten feet. Later, to exercise his feet, a limping Goodman strolled along the edge of the clearing only to encounter two wolves that came out of the woods after his spaniel. With some exertion and the aid of a stout stick, he saved his spaniel and chased off the wolves. By the next day John Goodman, suffering severely from the effects of exposure, quietly passed away. Peter Browne was extremely ill and lay recuperating in the unfinished Common House when a spark from a fire ignited the roof of the Common House and it was a mad scramble. Francis Cooke rushed in to the crackling, smoke-filled structure and helped Peter to safety. Francis then took it upon himself to assist with Peter's recovery. That winter, half of the Saints and Strangers perished due to the harsh conditions. Peter Browne, Francis Cooke, and young John Cooke survived, but the Billingtons were the only complete family (father, mother, and children) to survive the winter untouched by death. Eventually, the first house along the street above the Common House was assigned to Peter Browne and the next to William Brewster. Here the street was intersected by Main Street and above this road the lots, in order, were assigned to John Billington, Isaac Allerton, Francis Cooke, and Edward Winslow. One evening, several years later, Peter Browne came to the home of Francis Cooke carrying a handsome wooden box under a cloth. When Francis opened the door, Peter asked to come inside. "I need your help,"Peter said. He went on to explaine that ever since the Mayflower had arrived in America he had sensed the Billingtons watching him and the box. He knew they wanted the box back, and they had made several attempts to get it. Peter said that more recently Ellen Billington had been heard to say that she would have the box soon. Peter had learned from the Billingtons the royal history of the box, and had determined that it must never fall back into their hands. Peter said that to him no finer example of Christian charity existed than that of Francis Cooke. He told Francis to take the box, hide it, and keep it always as a tribute to his friendship, kindness, and quiet strength. As Francis accepted the box he said, "I've seen this box somewhere before." "You sat on it at our first feast of thanksgiving when there were not enough chairs," Peter told him. In 1630 John Billington encountered Peter on the road and asked about the box. Peter responded that he no longer owned the box but had given it to a friend. Billington assumed that since Peter had befriended John Newcomen, a recent arrival, this new settler must be the one who now owned the box. Billington went to see Newcomen and an argument broke out. Newcomen did not deny having the box, but, being physically superior, threw the smaller man out of the house. Billington was so enraged that he went home, secured his blunderbuss, laid in wait until Newcomen passed, and shot him dead. This was the first act of fatal violence by any of the European residents in the ten years they had lived in the new land. Colony leaders didn't know what to do with Billington. One of the first laws passed in the new colony decreed that any criminal act was to be put before a jury of twelve honest men. Billington was tried by both a grand jury and a petty jury. Both juries found him guilty of "willful murder by plaine & notorious evidence." They didn't know if they had the authority to enact a death sentence, so they appealed to John Winthrop, the recently appointed Governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in Boston, which had been settled in 1629. Winthrop ordered that the murderer should die and purge the land with his blood. The colony of Plymouth complied with the order by duly hanging, drawing, and quartering their fellow Mayflower passenger and friend. John Billington became the first person executed in the new land and though frequently demonstrating a contrary nature was instumental in subjecting the prevailing wisdom to the test of investigation. He was survived by his wife Ellen and younger son Francis, for whom the first inland lake close to Plymouth was named; Billington Sea. The older son John, Jr. had died two years previously in 1628. Three years
later, during the "infectious fevoure" that
swept the town in 1633, over twenty people died, including Peter Browne. He
left a wife of ten years, Martha Ford, a passenger on the Fortune,.which arrived in The box remained with Francis Cooke for fifteen years, until his daughter Mary married John Tomson. At their wedding Francis presented the box to his new son-in-law and instructed him: Life spreads outward from yourself to others. You must first develop your own talents by serving others. Then you must make sure the needs of your wife are provided for so that she has a chance to develop her talents. As each child comes, the circumference of your influence expands and you must make sure each child individually develops their talents, learns to work and live uprightly. Finally, you must serve the community around you insuring that it is the best place it can be to live. John took the counsel to heart and was forever after a talented husband, father, and community leader. Chapter 5
The 140-ton
ship, "Anne," arrived at Plymouth Colony in 1623 with 60 passengers.
On board were not only Francis Cooke's wife and
children, but also Elizabeth Warren, wife of Richard Warren (another passenger
on the Mayflower) and seven children. Six were her own natural children, and
the seventh was her six-year-old nephew, John Tomson.
John grew to be a strapping six-foot three inch leader who, with his cousin's
husband, Richard Church, built the first frame meeting house in In 1645, John married Mary Cooke, the daughter of Francis Cooke, one of the Saints of the Mayflower. Francis Cooke saw John as a leader, one whom people would look to for guidance and he tried to mentor him. When Francis presented the wooden box to John and Mary, he told them of its history. He said that for over twenty years he had treasured and safeguarded the box; they must now do likewise. John and
Mary Tomson from that time forward stored their most
treasured possessions in it and always kept it hidden. They had moved from One day John Tomson brought home an Indian boy he named Peter Pringle and whom he intended to educate in civilized ways. Peter was treated almost as a member of the family, went regularly to church services, and lived with the family for some time. One day as they worked in the forest, John, sensing that Indians were becoming more aggressive, asked Peter, "I wonder why they never attempted to kill me?" John was astounded when Peter responded, "Master, I have cocked my gun many a time to shoot you, but I loved you so well I could not." When John and Peter returned home, John's wife, Mary, reported that three young Wampanoag braves had forced their way into the house. They had behaved rudely, kicking over chairs and creating havoc. One of them went to the pot and pulled out a fish that Mary had been boiling. Mary would have none of this and reprimanded the young warriors, whereupon one drew his knife and began brandishing it about in a threatening manner. Mary seized a splint broom and drove the three from the house. The next
day was Sunday. John and Mary woke at 4 a.m., ate breakfast, and, by sunrsie, had pressed a cheese as a special treat for the
Sabbath. Because of the Indian trouble the previous day, John stayed home while
the others walked thirteen miles to church services at When the family returned home that evening, John related that a group of rowdy Indians had burst in. He had sat in a corner with his seven-foot long gun in one hand, resting across his lap, his brass pistol in the other. When the Indians tried anything, he would motion with the brass pistol and they backed off until, finally, they left. As John told of the events of the day, he noticed Peter Pringle slip away into the forest. He took this as a sign that more violent Indian hostilities were imminent. John said to the family, "There is trouble ahead; we must pack up immediately and go to the garrison." The family worked through the early evening either putting all their worldly goods either into a wagon or storing them in a pit by the swamp. As the family traveled through the night they could see the glow of a great light behind them and knew their cabin was engulfed in flames. Along the road they passed the home of William Danson and urged him to join them. Danson said that he could not possibly prepare to leave until morning. By Monday evening most of the surrounding residents had arrived at the fort, except for Danson. Fires could be seen at various distances in many directions. In alarm, Mary remembered that the box had been left in its hiding place under some floorboards in their cabin. She came to John in a panic wondering what to do. Tuesday morning, twenty-seven-year-old John Tomson, Jr., and two others rode off on fast horses to make a reconnaissance. Along the road they saw Danson's leather shoes and beaver hat. They hurried to the Tomson cabin and found it completely destroyed. As they sifted through the charred wood, they discovered the blackened floorboards. Young John removed them carefully to find the box miraculously intact and with only minor blemishes where a few sparks had landed. As the young men hurriedly returned to the fort, they saw that Danson's shoes and hat were gone. Approaching a brook near Danson's burnt-out cabin site, they saw the remains of Danson, the first person killed in King Philip's War. Tuesday
evening the men in the garrison assembled into a military force with John Tomson, Sr., as commander. For the next several days
Indians assembled around "hand-rock," on the other side of As King
Philip's War continued for two year, John, Sr. was elevated to lieutenant and
braved every danger and met the enemy at every point. His vigilance never slept
and his prudence and mature judgment repeatedly saved the settlements of
Halifax and Middleboro. John's cousin and close confidant, Benjamin Church,
became a hero whose actions affected every settlement in When John Tomson arrived at Chapter 6 In 1664, 18-year-old John Thompson, Jr., married Mary Tinkham, granddaughter of Peter Browne, who had been a passenger on the Mayflower and one-time owner of the box. John's father died in 1696, and the young John inherited the wooden box. John Thompson (or Tomson), Sr., had been the first citizen of Middleboro, leader of the local military, and virtual father of the town. John Jr.'s younger brother, Jacob, was elected a selectman of Middleboro in 1697, one year after his father's death, and held that position for the next twenty-five years. Jacob also served as commander of the local militia. While Jacob was a civic leader, his brother John remained a quiet, hard-working land owner. In 1708, one of John's children, looking for something to carry food and other items to a church social, grabbed the wooden box. After the social, the youth forgot about the box when returning home that evening. Rev. Palmer, not knowing to whom the box belonged, placed it with other items in a "lost and found" corner. John and Mary Thompson failed to notice the box was missing. In the mean time, Rev. Palmer sold the unclaimed items to interested parties, and a neighbor bought the box. Mary noticed her lost box at the neighbor's home and found that it had come from Rev. Palmer. When she returned home, Mary said to John, "We have failed to instruct our children about that which is of value, and they have let it slip away." Rev. Palmer
felt he had done nothing wrong and failed to see how he could reverse what had
been done. But to Jacob Thompson, John's brother, this was the straw that broke
the camel's back. Increasingly irritated with some of the more liberal sermons
delivered by Rev. Palmer, he decided to take the lead in deposing the pastor.
Jacob identified several "scandalous immoralities" perpetrated by the
reverend and "quit the church," transferring his attendance to the
congregation at As a result of this action, Rev. Palmer went to the neighbor who now possessed the box, and with great effort was successful in repurchasing it. He took the box home and said that because it resulted in his leaving the ministry, he would keep it always as a reminder.. Palmer said, "I'm leaving the ministry, but not the community. I've decided to take up medicine. Perhaps I'm like the fellow who first studied divinity, tried to preach, but soon found that people generally cared less for their souls than for their bodies. He then went into the practice of medicine, but found that people cared less for their bodies and souls than their own vain pride, so he finally practiced law and found eminent success. I don't know if I will ever become a lawyer, but for now I shall try medicine." Palmer practiced medicine with much success for the rest of his days. He never bought a horse but would often borrow his patient's steed for the return ride home. When he arrived home, he would turn the animal loose to wander back home with the following note attached: Don't take me up, but let me pass, For I'm my master's faithful ass; To Doctor Palmer I was lent Who rode me to his place. A pottle of oats he did grace And now to home again I'm sent. Chapter 7 John Thompson Jr.'s son, Shubael, had five children, and the third was named John Thompson. (This third John Thompson will be referred to by adding a "(3)" to distinguish him from his grandfather and great-grandfather.) The box never passed from John Jr. to Shubael, but remained in the possession of Dr. Palmer until it strangely came back into the family and the possession of John Thompson (3). In 1733, at the age of 48, Shubael died suddenly following an accident. This left his wife, Susanna Parker Thompson, and the five children to fend for themselves. The next year when the town of Halifax, Mass. was created out of a division of Middleboro and other surrounding communities, Susanna became ill with the flu. For several days the family lovingly cared for their mother while she continued to grow weaker. One evening, sixteen-year-old John Thompson (3), a sensitive and intelligent youth, turned to his oldest brother and said, "Why don't we go and get the doctor?" "You know we can't," was the reply. "But why?" John asked again. His brother looked at
him with a mixture of disgust and despair. John ran out of the house where he
paced back and forth like a penned-up cat. All at once he turned and ran down
the lane to Ever since
young John could remember the Palmers had been "off-limits." Whenever
the Thompsons had needed medical help they called for
a "I need the doctor, my mother is very ill," John said urgently. "Wait," she said and was gone. In a moment an old gentleman came to the door, looked at John, and with a wrinkled brow asked, "What's your name?" "John Thompson. It's my mother, she's sick," John said. Dr. Palmer looked deep into the boy's eyes and said, "Come in." They walked back to the doctor's office where his shelves were lined with bottles filled with all kinds of potions and ointments plus other devices for the treatment of the sick. "What is the problem, and did the family send you?" the doctor asked in quick succession. "It's the flu." John answered the first question, and then after a pause added, "No, I came on my own." The doctor was taken away in thought for a long moment and then looking at John said, "Thank you for coming." He continued, "I've seen a lot of flu lately. I'm not going to go with you, but I will give you the only thing that might help." He took a small dark-colored bottle from the shelf and handed it to John. He said, "Give her a spoonful of this every two hours." John turned and was about to leave when the doctor touched John's arm. "I've got something else to give you." He went to a table where a wooden box sat, opened the lid, and unloaded bottles and equipment. He closed the lid and handed the box to John. "This box has great value. I'm giving it to you and to you alone. If anyone from your family says anything, tell them that Dr. Palmer said to please forgive him." John did not question, but left quickly carrying the box and the bottle. When John got home, he went immediately to his mother's side and set the box aside. As he was struggling to open the bottle and pour a spoonful, his mother opened her eyes and saw the box. "Where did this come from?" she asked. "Dr. Palmer gave it to me," John replied. "And I have some medicine for you." "Bring it closer," she said, pointing to the box. She ran her hand over it and said, "So this is the cause of twenty-five years of heartache. Did Dr. Palmer say anything when he gave this to you?" "He said to forgive him," John responded. Tears swelled in Susanna's eyes as she said, "It is foolishness to harbor resentment or ill will toward anyone. John, promise me that you will forgive everyone always. Do not let it be a burden on your soul. Promise me, John," his mother pleaded. "I promise." Susanna lingered for several more hours and about midnight opened her eyes and called out for her husband. Then she was gone. She was buried beside her husband, Shubael, in the Thompson cemetery. That same year, 1736, the family planted two "high tap" or "summer sweeting" apple trees on the old homestead as a remembrance of Shubael and Susanna. In 1876, when these two trees were over a hundred and forty years old, their yield by actual measurement was thirty-five bushels of apples. Dr. Palmer made peace with the local congregation and was admitted back into full faith and fellowship. When he died, someone placed a sign with one of Palmer's poems on the wall of the cemetery that read: All ye that pass along this way, Remember till your dying day, Here's human bodies out of sight Whose souls to hell have took their flight, And shall again united be In their doomed eternity. The sign was later removed by relatives who found it distasteful. Chapter 8
>About 1741,
young John Thompson (3) married Lydia Wood, a great-great-granddaughter of
Mayflower passengers John and Ellen Billington. Thus
the circle was closed and the box found its way back into the hands of the Billington family through Lydia Wood. John and Lydia
Thompson raised a large family, including Isaac who was called up at the
Lexington Alarm when the first shot of the Revolutionary War was fired at In the
winter of 1788, his sister Priscilla and her husband, Lemuel
Sturdevant, traveled from their home in Lime, As
Priscilla and Isaac prepared to return to New Hampshire, her brother, Isaac
Thompson, was about to travel to Boston with several others to represent their
communities at a state convention to vote on ratification of the newly proposed
Constitution of the United States of America. Priscilla and Lemuel
decided to travel as far as In
preparing to go to Priscilla sat quietly listening to the men carry on for almost an hour in the tavern. The sentiment seemed to grow in pitch to a rally in opposition, revealing an underlying uncertainty and need to strengthen their commitment to their communities. Finally, there was a short break in the discussion, and Priscilla said quietly, "I think you're wrong." The men all turned in shocked amazement at the quiet but sincere voice in their midst. Suddenly, one of the men, with stern disapproval in his voice, challenged, "Woman! What do you mean we're wrong?" Isaac
jumped to his feet and with arms outstretched came to Priscilla's defense.
"Now wait just a minute, gentlemen, let's not cut her off just yet. Let's
hear what she has to say." Tolerance was stretched to the limit. These
were men engaged in high decisions of state who were being challenged by a
woman, and a With Isaac standing beside her, Priscilla took a deep breath and proclaimed with spirit, "I think you have lost sight of larger issues. The terrible revolution that we went through was built on the principle that everyone is born with an equal right to liberty and property. Those who are officers have no right to any power but what is fairly given to them by consent of the people. The constitution that is now proposed provides for this. I have been led to believe it is written in such a way that it enhances rather than takes away from individual rights. It guards against the invasion of other rights or the abuse of power. The door is now open for the establishment of a righteous government and for the security of equal liberty, as never was before opened to any people on earth." Having voiced her opinion, Priscilla retired to her room. The men sat
in silence watching Priscilla leave, and then all decided to retire for the
night. The next morning everyone set out for another day's travel. When they
finally reached Later, when
Priscilla had time to open the box, she found inside the copy of the
Constitution her brother had left for her. Of the thirteen colonies, nine were
needed to ratify and enact the Constitution. Many other colonies looked to Chapter 9
In 1817
when Sarah Sturdevant was about to be married, her
family was living in the town of Sarah
experienced many challenges and adventures as she and her husband Jeremiah
Leavitt moved to In 1846,
the family had been driven out of Before he left, he and Sarah stayed in the house and talked all one day and long into the night. Jeremiah was a man of few words who rarely expressed any affection. Sarah never knew until that day how much Jeremiah loved her, and she treasured the time when the world rested for a moment. As Jeremiah was preparing to leave the next day, Sarah walked out to the wagon carrying the wooden box. She placed it in the wagon and said, "You must take this box with you as a protection." Jeremiah looked deep into Sarah's eyes and said, "Don't have anything to say to anyone else while I am gone." Sarah was astonished and replied, "Why do you make that request? Did I ever give you reason to doubt my honor?" "No," he responded, "but it came into my mind to say it and I did." Sarah had a strange feeling about this trip and it frightened her. She went to Jeremiah just before he was to start and said that she couldn't let him go. "Why?" he said, "You know that I must get breadstuff, I know you are a woman of fortitude." They embraced, and he was gone. During those two weeks everyone around Sarah became ill, and over three hundred people died ((of ___?)) Sarah also became deathly ill with chills and fever. At the end of two weeks, in frail condition, she waited earnestly for her husband's return. Sarah knew that everything would be all right once Jeremiah was back. Finally, a man came with a letter explaining that Jeremiah had died ((of ___?)). A feeling of despair overwhelmed Sarah with such intensity that she could not even cry. How could
God let this happen? The box had always provided her with comfort and apparent
protection, why had it failed now? She could not imagine going on into the
wilderness without Jeremiah, and she had resolved to give up when her son came
from Bonaparte with the wooden box full of food. Sarah sat for a long time
trying to understand and gain strength. Finally, she knelt by the box and
offered up a prayer for help. The words of her mother came to her, "Faith
that would sustain her through bitter trials." Then she remembered the
last words of her husband, "A woman of fortitude." It was not the
answer she wanted, but it must be the right answer. She must go on and live, if
not for herself, then for her children. The strange words of her husband, "Don't
have anything to say to anyone else while I am gone," came back to her,
and she vowed never to remarry. Sarah courageously led her family a thousand
miles across the plains to She taught her children to love life and not fear the unknown. She would aften say, “The person who loves life and serves others will find joy, while the person who is filled with fear and can’t get out of their own problems will find only saddness.” Chapter 10 Sarah Sturdevant Leavitt was "the mother of Southern Utah; because the early leaders of that area often went to Sarah for advice. In 1855, Dudley Leavitt (Sarah's son), Jacob Hamblin (Sarah's son-in-law), and a handful of others left Salt Lake City for Southern Utah to take the gospel of Mormonism to the Indians. They took their families and traveled by covered wagon the rough trail south about 300 miles. Sarah took the box with her to the group's new home on the Santa Clara River, where they set up camp. The Indians of the Santa Clara were generally friendly because the missionaries always tried to help and feed them, but it wasn't long before rumors started that Indian hostilities were spreading in the north. Sarah became anxious regarding Dudley's safety because he was often among the Indians for days at a time. One day she called Dudley to her and presented him with the box, saying, I want you to take this and keep it. As long as you possess this box, I promise the Indians will never harm you." Shortly afterward, Dudley had to transport some food and clothing to a group of Indians a few miles down river. Experimenting with the box, he mounted it on the back of his horse, packed the supplies, and proceeded to the village. On his return trip, the sky darkened with great thunder and lightning, but no rain fell. As he rode along the Mogotsu Creek, he talked to his horse and sang some favorite songs. Dudley was a big man whose sturdy singing voice alerted others of his approach, so he did not surprise or alarm them. He had been friendly to all the Indians and felt he had little to fear. After riding over some slick rock, he came to a little clearing, and all at once his horse shied, threw up its head, and stopped. Dudley could sense his mount was nervous, and instinct told him that danger was near. Suddenly the sky lit up with a flash of lightning, and Dudley saw that he was in the middle of a circle of Indians with their bows drawn, all arrows pointed at him. The Indians slowly tightened the circle around him. Dudley called out "Me Wamptun Tunghi, Wamptun Tunghi!" which was his Indian name. Then he called out "Tick-a-boo! Too-wich-a-weino-tick-a-boo." meaning, "friend, a very good friend." The next thing Dudley knew, the Indians pulled him from his horse and grabbed him by the arms. In silence they marched him some distance to a place where a fire blazed. They pulled the box from his horse and set it by the fire. The Indians began to discuss how they were going to take revenge on this white man for the death of two of their comrades. Their talk focused on what form his death would take. Some suggested that since it was two-for-one justice, the death should be twice as painful. Dudley thought of all the possibilities of death the Indians might inflict, and an idea came to him. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a little pad of paper and hunted for the stub of a pencil in another pocket. The Indians grew quiet and intently watched as Dudley began to draw circles and stick figures. When the page was full, he walked over to the fire. stepped up on the wooden box as though it were a platform, and held the paper out to the fire. Dudley was a strong, robust man whose physical appearance, especially as he stood on the box, was impressive. When the paper started to burn, he extended it toward heaven and said loudly, "Pi-ump Shanob! Epawk-i," which meant: "Great God, hear my distress cry and give me help!" He then petitioned God, saying that he had always been a friend to the Indians, giving them food, and now they were going to kill their very best friend. The Indians stepped back a few paces. Dudley continued to cry out to God with arms outstretched, when a clap of lightning ignited a tree across the valley and illuminated the sky. As thunder rolled through the valley, Dudley suddenly realized that he was standing alone. He picked up the box, mounted his horse, and slowly rode home singing loudly, "God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform." Chapter 11 Dudley's oldest child was a girl named Hannah, who married Bishop Thomas Terry and moved to Hebron, Utah, about 60 miles north of St. George. Hannah had a baby girl named Maude and a year later, in 1881, bore another little girl whom she named Mary. When Mary was just six weeks old, Hannah bathed the baby and wrapped her in a blanket ready for a nap. With morning chores to do and a one-year-old to carry, Hannah placed little Mary in a large rocking chair because the cradle was broken and had been sent for repair. The weather was chilly, so Hannah drew the rocker up in front of the large open fire place. She put a big pine log on the fire and propped a stick under the front of the rocker so that it wouldn't rock forward. After Mary went to sleep, Hannah prepared to take care of her cows and chickens and do other chores. Just before leaving the house, she checked her baby once more and pushed the log to the back of the fireplace, leaving a bed of live coals in front. Hannah picked up Maude, the milk pail, and chicken feed and went to do chores. She hadn't finished her work when a feeling came over her that she must hurry to the house. As she rushed into the room she saw the baby lying on the hearth with her head in the live coals. Hannah quickly picked up little Mary, who let out a whimper and fell limp, apparently dead. Hannah rushed to the door and called in agony to her neighbor, "My baby has burned to death!" Her neighbor came running, surveyed the situation, and ran for help. She returned with her husband and another neighbor who was also a Mormon Elder. The two men performed the ordinance of administration, gently laying their hands on the baby and offering a blessing. The baby showed no signs of life, so Hannah and her three neighbors knelt down and offered a prayer for help. Afterward, the two men again administered to the baby, and immediately after the last words were spoken, life returned to little Mary. A doctor was unavailable, so Hannah was both doctor and nurse to her tiny infant and never undressed or went to her own bed for six weeks. The whole top of the baby's head was burned so deeply that several small pieces of bone fell out, leaving a slight depression in the skull. The side of Mary's head was also burned where she had rubbed it back and forth on the burning hot hearth, and there was some damage to the cheeks. Neighbors and friends offered little comfort to Hannah, commenting that if the child did live, her mind and intellect would be gone forever. What a terrible thing for Hannah to hear when she was working so hard and doing everything in her power to save her baby's life. Most of the community agreed that, "death would be sweet, compared to the life the child would have." One day as Hannah sat in a chair in front of her home in the midst of despair, she looked up to see her father, Dudley Leavitt, riding toward the house. He took a wooden box from his wagon, carried it into the little house, and told Hannah that it had been in the family for many years and would be a comfort to her. He instructed Hannah to let the baby sleep in the box and that, not only would little Mary's mind be restored, but she would grow to be a beautiful young woman, who would marry a good and understanding young man and raise a noble posterity. Hannah did as her father suggested and, through the years, Dudley's words were literally fulfilled. Even though hair never grew on the top of Mary's head for the rest her life, she learned how to fashion what hair she had so that few people knew of her disfigurement. She grew to be a beautiful young woman, married a good man, and raised a fine family of ten children. Hannah Leavitt Terry's strength became legendary in Southern Utah. In 1889, when U.S. Marshalls were chasing Mormon polygamist men, her husband decided that Hannah and her children should live in far-off "Beaver Dam Wash," where they would not be so visible. Just before she left civilization to travel the forty miles into the wilderness, she gave birth to a little girl. When her husband asked what they should name the little girl, Hannah replied, "We had better call her either Exile or Bannish; that is what is to become of this family." Hannah named the girl Exile, but called Exie. In the midst of the arid Joshua Tree Forest, in a remote oasis of trees and water, Hannah lived alone with her children from 1889 to 1912. She built a cabin and planted a wonderful garden and orchard. She fed everyone who stopped to rest or visit her, especially the Indians who took special care to watch out for her, and she never charged a cent. It was Hannah who brought the box with her to Bunkerville and then accompanied Mary to St. George. It was the box that she presented to Mary to shelter and save the life of her baby grandson, Elvin Bunker, born to her daughter, Mary, for whom the box had also provided life some twenty years before. Chapter 12 As my father finished his last story, I could hardly believe all he had told me. I peppered him with questions. "You mean this box was built virtually as a modern Arc of the Covenant? Could this box be almost 400 years old? Are you telling me the box has been handed down as some mystical icon within the family?" "I suppose so," was his simple reply. "Then let me ask you this. If the box is so valuable, why did you let Elwood have the box when Grandma died, and why didn't Elwood keep it, instead of giving it to me?" I queried. "I'm not sure everyone in the family knows the history of the box. Grandma told a few of us older children these stories, but I'm not so sure the younger children ever heard them. You see, by the time the family was getting larger, we had moved to Salt Lake City, and Grandma was becoming so involved with genealogy that she perhaps thought the younger ones already knew the stories. Also, I loved the stories; but I don't know if some people she told the stories to believed her. That hurt her very much, and she stopped telling them." "Now, as to why I didn't pursue the box more aggressively. Well you see, to me the box is only a symbol of the power of the family, and faith. Once I had learned that you really didn't need the box to have faith and a love of family, I was content to let someone else take it. I don't treasure the box as much as I treasure the stories about it." All that summer I sat at home and analyzed all the documents in the box. From Grandma's papers, I was able to verify almost all of the people, dates, and places Dad spoke of. I had to assume that the actual details of the stories were as my father had related them. Today, the box sits on a table in my study still holding all of Grandma's papers. Occasionally, I sit in an old rocker, contemplate the well-worn surface of the box, and recall all the stories my father told me. I wonder how many more stories the box could tell about an existence spanning almost four-hundred years. I wish that everyone owned a box filled with the wonderful stories of his ancestors. Each of us is a product of progenitors who were strong or weak, quick or slow, and who braved the challenges of life. Some of the noble deeds of our parentage were celebrated and well known; others were quiet moments of courage and faith that went relatively unnoticed, but were profound in molding the course of mankind. If our ancestors could speak to us from the past I wonder what they would say. If I could speak to my descendants, what would I say? I would give them each a box and tell them:
1. Patients: with God is faith; with self is hope;
2. Without compromising who you are
3. Listen to others for eveyone can teach you
4. Do not compare yourself to others
5. Find joy in your talents, dreams, and plans,
6. Let no-one diminish your selfworth, but find
7. Be careful and selective in business
8. The world is full of high ideals and virtue
9. Learn how to bear misfortune
10. Do not invent or imagine problems
11. Forgive yourself and others
12. Remember to find beauty in the world
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