Part 2

Almer, Laun and Walt all went to the Muddy in 1867, the year Mary was moved. In 1868 Philmon, fifth son of Elvira, a very promising lad of thirteen, died of appendicitis, at that time called inflammation of the bowels. Then Mary lost a little daughter, Lucy for whom she grieved many years.

Financially the prospects were more promising than ever before. They had planted a large orchard, and a vineyard that was just coming into bearing. Then a new line was run between the states of Utah and Nevada, which gave this section to Nevada, and Nevada demanded back taxes; and they amounted to more than their farms and houses were worth. So Brigham Young said, "Come home to Utah." They came.

Elvira, with Orville a grown son, Walter 17, Tryphena, Amasa and Euphrasia, returned to the old home in Fairview, leaving all of their beautiful peach orchards and vineyards, fields of cotton, cane, wheat and the comfortable houses in the most fertile of lands, which they had subdued and made to "Blossom as the Rose" by seven long years of toil and privation. They rendered absolute obedience to their great leader; and so they hitched up their teams, took their most choice belongings, and wended their way back to Utah, leaving their settlement and farms to pay Nevada the back taxes it had demanded.

One company which had thoroughly learned the trick of building a dam in quick sand of the desert, stopped at an abandoned settlement in Long Valley, Kane County. O.S. Cox and sons began the engineering of irrigation canals and dams, and so on, as they had cleaned and repaired the deserted cabins, so that they offered partial shelter from the February storms. The people named this town Mt. Carmel.

When the former settlers learned that they had builded dams that would stand, they came back and said, "Get Out, this is ours," So the weary pioneers moved again, this time only a few miles farther up the valley into a pleasant narrow cove, and went to work to build more dams, more ditches and more cabins. In one place the water had to be carried across a gulley, and it gave more trouble than all the rest of the canal. After a while Cox, without comment or consultation, went into the timber and found a very large log and felled it, made of it a huge trough, placed it across the gully and it reached far enough to secure a solid bed above the quicksand. Thirty years later, this "Cox Trough" was still doing successful service as a flume.

In 1875, when Brigham strongly taught the principle of Cooperation, this company of saints were organized by unanimous consent into the united order of Enoch, and named their town Orderville. Their little property, mostly cattle, horses and wagons, were owned jointly. Twelve years father labored joyously and unselfishly in the "Order". The town grew and thrived; the arts, schools and trades were remarkably well represented by the young. Prosperity and a measure of plenty was there, in spite of the fact that there were more infirm people in that ward than any ward in the church.

Then dissatisfaction and disunion came, and the "Order" broke up. There was not a great deal of property to divide, although some people came out with more property with others, according to the amount they consecrated in. Mary and Eliza, father's second and third wives, each received a team and wagon. Mary and her family located in Huntington, Emery County, Eliza and her family in Tropic, Garfield County. Father well along in years, and broken in health, could do little more than advise his sons. Eliza was dying of cancer. In 1886 Orville S. Cox came to Fairview to the best-provided for branch of his family. One year he remained an invalid, and on July 4, 1888 he laid his exhausted body down to rest. The passing was quiet and peaceful. His two wives Elvira and Mary and many of his descendants were with him at the last.

The following are some of the thriving towns O.S. Cox assisted in founding: Lima, Ill.; Pisgah, Iowa; Salt Lake City, Bountiful, Manti, Gunnuson, Fairview, Glenwood of Utah; St. Thomas, St. Joseph, Overton of Nevada; Mt. Carmel, Orderville and Tropic of Utah.

If man ever earned his salvation, surely O.S. Cox did. Always found in the van where the hardest work was to be done, and if he advanced the cause one iota, no matter at what loss, or cost to himself, he considered he had been eminently successful. Never was there a murmur from him.

To illustrate the ingenuity of O.S. Cox's ditch making, here is the story of the Pig Plow as told by an old settler of Fairview, Pappas Brady.

"When the ditch was first laid out that was afterwards called "City Ditch", every man and boy was called on to come and work on it every day til it would carry water. This was in the spring, and it had to be finished before the fields were ready to be plowed and planted. The men turned out well with teams and plows, picks and crow bars and shovels. There was a rocky point at the head of the ditch to be ut through, and it was hard pan, about like cement. Couldn't be touched by plow, no siree; now more than nothing. We was just prying the gravel loose with picks and crowbars, and looked like it would take us weeks to do six rods. Yes, six weeks. Cox looked at us working and sweating, and never offered to lift a finger. No sir, never done a tap; just looked and then without saying a word, he turned around and walked off. Yes, sir, walked off! Well of all the mad bunch of men you ever saw I guess he was about the maddest. Of course, we didn't swear; we was Mormons and the Bishop was there, but we watched him go and one of the men says, "Well, I didn't think Cox was that kind of a feller." His going discouraged the rest of us, just took the heart out of us. But of course we plugged away pretendin' to work the rest of the day, and dragged back the next morning."

"We weren't near all there when here came Cox. I don't just remember whether it was four yoke of oxen or six or eight, for I was just a boy, but it was a long string and they was every one of a good pulling ox. And they was hitched on to a plow a plumb new kind, yes sir, a new kind of plow. It was a great big pitch pine log, about fourteen feet long, and may have been eighteen, with a limb stickin' down like as if my arm and hand was the log and my thumb the limb; he had bored a hole through the log, and put a crow bar down in front of the knob; and cross ways along the log back of the limb he bored holes and put stout oak sticks through spikes. They were the plow handles; and he had eight man got ahold of them handles find hold the plow level and he loaded a bunch of men along on that log, and then he spoke to his oxen."

"Great Scott, ye oter seen the gravel fly, and ye oter heard us fellers laugh and holler! Well, sir, he plowed up and down that ditch line four or five times and that ditch was made, practically made. All that the rest of us had to do was to shovel out the loose stuff; he done more in half a day than all the rest of us could a done in six weeks."

"Why didn't he tell his plans the first thing, so we wouldn't be so discouraged, and hate him so? Why, cause he knew it wouldn't do a might of good to talk. He wasn't the Bishop; and even if he had been, plans like that would sure be hooted at by half the fellers. No, siree! His way was the best when a bunch of men and a thing a workin' they see believe; yes, sir, seein' is believin."

The Pioneer Mother

Upon a jolting wagon sent she rode Across the trackless prairie to the west, Or trudged behind the oxen with a goad, A sleeping child clasped tightly to her breast, Frail flesh rebelling, but spirit never-- What tales the dark could tell of woman's tears!!-- Her bravery incentive to endeavor; Her laughter spurring strong men past their fears.

O to her valor and her comeliness A commonwealth today owes its white domes Of State, its fields, its highways, and its homes-- Its cities wrested from the wilderness. Its bones in memory above the hand That gentled, woman-wise, a savage land.

--Ethol Romig Fuller

Transcriber's Note

The original pamphlet contains many images that were omitted in this electronic version. Scans of the original work can be found at https://archive.org/details/biographicalsket00sidw. The poem "The Pioneer Mother," originally presented in a sidebar, has been moved to the end of the work for improved readability on typical e-reader devices.