I, Thomas Henry White, was born 25 Nov. 1846, about one mile from Charlcutt Hill in a small village in England. When I was six or seven years of age, my parents moved to Calne. I was baptized 12 July 1855. At the age of eight years of age, I became on [an] apprentice to the blacksmith and machinist trade until I was fifteen. My father, George White died when I was thirteen, leaving my mother, Mary Rivers White, in very poor circumstances. She was a very good seamstress and made her living, for herself and her family, by needle work and dress-making. She also kept an open house for the Latter-day Saint elders, to hold meetings. They were always welcomed to her home.

Being a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she left her native country, with her four children: Thomas Henry, Amelia, George Ofred, Joseph, and Earnest Authenia White, and sailed for America in the old sailing vessel, Antarctic, an old sailing vessel, white-washed and covered with coal tar. On the journey the sailors were kept busy several hours each day, pumping water out of this ship, which leaked badly. We were on the ocean seven weeks after we left Liverpool, England. The drinking water was bad and we couldn't drink it without boiling it. The "hard-tack" we had to eat was eight or ten inches across. With the hardtack, bacon was served on our menu. The bacon was usually thick and fat and poorly cooked. Before sailing, mother toasted a quantity of bread, very dry and put it in a sack. We enjoyed this bread while it lasted. During our journey, seven emigrants died and were buried at sea.

We arrived in New York, 4 July, 1863. This being a holiday, the emigrants were not permitted to land until next day. They landed in Castle Garden and left soon after for Missouri. To make this journey, the emigrants were put in box or cattle cars, like so many sheep. They had to lie on the bare floor, dirty as it was. On a long train there were three passenger cars. At every station the soldiers would ask: "When are those Mormons coming through?" No one seemed to know. This was during the time of the Rebellion War. The emigrants were in danger, especially the boys, of being drafted into the army. We landed safely at St. Joseph, Missouri.

St. Joseph was a desolate looking town, no families, only soldiers of the Rebellion War were to be seen, who were looking for men to draft into the army. The soldiers would get one dollar for each man or boy they could get a pin or a ribbon on. If the ribbon was pinned on the man was counted as in the army, his word was out of the question. No one would believe him.

At St. Joseph I was on guard to watch the luggage, as the soldiers would take anything that was not guarded. They tried to pin a ribbon on me but they did not succeed. The soldiers stole one girl from the company. One young boy ask a soldier to let him get on his horse for a ride, the soldier at once reported that the boy was stealing the horse. The boy was hidden three days or he would have been taken by the army.

While sailing up the river to Florence, Nebraska, we met many Josephites who were eager to tell us what would happen to us if we went to Utah and did not do as we were told. The emigrants were met by the captains of the different companies. The wagons were loaded with telegraph wires and roofing for Salt Lake Tabernacle. Eight or ten passengers were assigned to each wagon. Peter N. Nebeker was the captain of our train. William Green, who afterwards lived in American Fork, Utah, was teamster. He was still living in 1912.

We traveled along the plains until we reached the Platte River. Some of the emigrants died, through walking so far and from exposure. Some very hard storms were experienced on the journey. One incident, worthy of note, three young girls who always traveled side by side, as usual, were walking together. And electrical storm came up. The lightning was very bad. It struck the middle girl, entering the top of her head and coming out the soles of her shoes. It also killed seven of the oxen in the train of about seventy wagons and knocked down some of every every [UNCLEAR REDUNDANT] yoke running along the chain. One of the teamsters had the skin taken off his nose, while sitting on his front end-gate. [p. 1]

Suffice it to say, after the long and perilous journey across the plains, building bridges, making roads, etc., we landed in Salt Lake Valley the fall of 1863, close to Oct. Conference. . . . [p. 2]

BIB: White, Thomas Henry. Autobiography (formerly in Msd 2050), pp. 1-2. (CHL)
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