. . . The last gift of money your father received from home was about one thousand pounds. This was nearly five thousand dollars in American money. We decided to migrate to this country. We wanted to come home so we could be married in the Latter-day Saint temple. Frank was the baby at that time. George was not born until about six weeks after we reached this country. George was the first native-born American in this family. Arthur, Flo, Fred, Tom and Frank were born in New Zealand. We brought Mr. and Mrs. Larsen to America with us. Mrs. Larsen had five children too, and also expected another in about six weeks. Besides the Larsen's we brought Peter and Charlie Oleson, two teenage lads, home with us. Peter and Charlie were orphans (their mother was dead) and they continued to make their home with us even after we reached America. We were very fond of them and they were like sons to us. They found work herding sheep. They used to glean the bits of wool from the fences, left there by the sheep when they rubbed against them. I washed and cleaned and carded the wool and made quilts for them and us too. They gave me half of the wool for cleaning it. Peter Oleson fell from a loaded lumber wagon and broke his neck. [p. 4]

Your father made boxes out of lumber made from eucalyptus trees and in them we packed our belongings. The only piece of furniture I was allowed to bring with me was my old sewing machine. The trip across the ocean was a long miserable one. Frank was very sick. He had the bloody flux, a disease of the bowels which we call dysentery in this country. He was so sick I began to believe he would never make it. He became so thin and weak he was unable to walk so he crawled when he moved about. We had one terrible storm during the passage over. The waves were higher than the ship. When they broke on the decks every loose thing on deck was washed overboard. (She had told Becky how she had to brace herself to keep from being thrown from her bunk.)

We landed on the wharf and sat among our bundles just like any other immigrants. Dad had only $12 in his pockets when he landed. He left us on the docks while he went in search of lodgings. When he returned he brought with him a whole bunch of bananas for which he had paid only 12 cents. More than we could eat.

Dad arranged for lodgings for us in a tenement house in San Francisco. It was a place where one or two dark, poorly ventilated rooms sufficed to house a family. There was a long hall common to all who lived in the house and into which everyone disposed of garbage. It was a dark, filthy, ill-smelling place, and I was glad when we left there.

After a week in San Francisco we went by train to Brigham City, Utah. . . . [p. 5]

BIB: History of Louise Marie Koebbel Porter, copy in possession of Ann Zollinger. pp. 4-5
(source abbreviations)