Brother Heber has made a remark which I will take for a text. He said,
"It is whispered about that some of the brethren laboring on the
Public Works are living on dry bread." I want to preach a short
discourse upon this subject, and I will endeavor to do so to the
understanding of those present. I acknowledge that some persons live
very poorly, and are very destitute; but there is not one family out
of a thousand in this Territory of those who live poorly, but what
that destitute mode of living is brought upon them by themselves
through their own mismanagement or the want of economy. For this
reason I wish to confine my remarks to the principles of economy
necessary in obtaining a comfortable living.
I have been a poor boy and a poor man, and my parents were poor. I was
poor during my childhood, and grew up to manhood poor and destitute;
and I am acquainted with the various styles of living, and with the
different customs, habits, and practices of people; and I do know, by
my own experience, that there is no necessity for people being so very
poor, if they have judgment, and will rightly use it.
You may take the mechanics that are employed upon our Public Works. I
am very well aware that the great majority of them are splendid
workmen—that they can make fine buildings, with all the mason, and
carpenter, and joiner work, and the painting of the very best quality
of finish; and yet many of them are in poverty. We have some of the
very best workers in brass, iron, wood, &c., that there are in the
world; yet many of them are poor, suffer from hard living, and have to
live on bread and water.
There is no necessity for any persons living on bread and water. We
have not a man at work for us but what has had means put into his
hands sufficient to support from five to twenty persons, and many of
them could lay up from five hundred to a thousand dollars a year, if
they would use proper economy. I comfortably supported a family when I was poor, and that, too, in a
country where it was more
difficult to do so than it is here—where it often was almost
impossible to hire to do a day's work—where a man would have to run
and, perhaps, beg, and plead to be employed to do a day's work; and
when the labor was performed, it was frequently worth twice the
amount to get the pay, which would generally be only three or four
bits; though sometimes ordinary mechanics would receive five or six
bits, and good mechanics one dollar or one dollar and a quarter a day.
I have labored for fifteen dollars a month to support a family, and
that, too, in a place that was as hard again for a person to live in
as it is in this city. You could not have the free use of so much as
a quarter of an acre of ground thrown out to the public for a
cow to graze upon. You could not get a stick of wood, although in a
well wooded country, without paying for it. You could not get a pint
of milk, or even of buttermilk, unless you paid the money for it.
I have worked for nearly all the various grades of wages, and
supported a family since I was quite young. I know how to live, and I
have taught my brethren here how to live, and I know how many of them
do live. But you may take a hardworking man, one earning good wages,
and though he carries an abundance into his house, his wife may sit
there and toss it out again. You will find that much depends upon the
economy of women, in regard to the living of the poorer class of the
people—of the laboring class. For instance, let a man buy ten pounds
of fresh meat and carry it home, in the morning the wife will cook up,
perhaps, four or five pounds of that meat for the breakfast of the
man, the wife, and a little child. To begin with, it is often cooked
very badly, not properly seasoned, smoked up, part of it burnt, and
the rest raw, so that they cannot eat much of it; and there is a great
platter full left that cannot be eaten, and the uncooked portion has
probably been neglected until it is spoiled, and thus nearly the whole
is wasted.
Sisters, if you do not believe this, many of you go home and remember
what you cooked this morning, and see the platters full, and the
plates full, and the little messes standing here and there. By-and-by
it is not fit to eat, and it is finally thrown out of door. Is this
true? It is. The reason I say so is because I see it with my own
eyes. You may wish to know where I see it. Among some of my neighbors
where I visit, among some of my own family, and in many places where I
go.
If a man is a good husband, and knows how to live, let him teach his
wife how to cook the food he provides, as I have some of my wives,
more or less, notwithstanding I have some excellent cooks; but I do
not think that I have one but what I can teach in the art of cooking
some particular varieties of food, for I have at times been obliged to
pay considerable attention to this matter. And when I go into a house,
I can soon know whether the woman is an economical housekeeper or not;
and if I stay a few days, I can tell whether a husband can get rich or
not. If she is determined on her own course, and will waste and spoil
the food entrusted to her, that man will always be poor.
Some women will set emptyings in the morning, and let them stand until
they sour, and mix up the flour with them, and sweeten it with
saleratus, and then knead it ready for baking; and if sister Somebody
comes in, they will sit down and begin to talk over old times, and the
first they know is, the bread is sour: "Dear me, I forgot all about
that bread," and into the oven she puts it, and builds up a large
fire, and again sits down to visiting with her neighbor, and before
she thinks of the loaf, there is a crust burnt on it from a quarter to
half an inch in thickness. So much of the bread is spoiled; there goes
one quarter of the flour; it is wasted, and the bread is sour and
disagreeable to eat; and the husband comes home and looks sour, and is
sour, as well as the bread. He finds fault, and that makes the wife
grieve, and there are feelings and unhappiness and dissatisfaction in
the family. The husband may be a good man, and the wife may be a good
woman, and try to please her husband, and to do as much as the old
lady did, who said, "It was impossible for her to please her husband
in baking bread; for if it was half dough, he did not like it; and if
it was half burnt up, he scolded about it."
You may say that it is hard work to please a man; yes, and
woman too. But when a man does his duty in providing for a family,
there can reasonably be but little complaint on the part of any
sensible woman.
A man may be good and industrious—may be an excellent mechanic, and in
many things a diligent man, as is the case with a number with whom I
am acquainted; yet go to his house and ask, "Have you a pig in your
pen?" "No, I have nothing to feed a pig with; I cannot keep one." Sit
down to his table, and he has not a mouthful of meat from week's end
to week's end, unless he buys a little. "Have you a cow?" "No, I
have
nothing to feed a cow; I cannot hire a pasture; and were I to hire one
driven to grass as far as the herd boys go, she would not give milk
enough to pay the herd bill." I have been in worse places than this,
and kept a cow.
I have taught the brethren how to live upon less than five, three, or
even two dollars a day for the support of a small family; and when men
complain that they live here on bread alone, they do not reflect that
they do not know how to provide for themselves. Years pass away, one
after another, and I see more and more that there are but very few men
and women that are even capable of taking care of themselves
temporally.
You will see women, if their husbands have got fifty cents, who must
buy crackers with it, or something nice. Johnny, Susan, Betsy, and
Billy come along, and want a cracker, and the first you know is that
the crackers are in the hands of the children who are outdoors
playing with them, breaking them up, wasting and scattering them
abroad. I will leave it to you, sisters, if some of you do not act in
this manner. When children crumble up the bread, what do you do with
it? You throw it into the fire. I learned my wife in the first place
what the swill pail was made for, and said to her, do not let one
crumb or kernel of anything be wasted, but put it into the swill pail,
and when night came, I had something to feed the pig with. But often
out of door go the pieces of bread and meat; or if half a gill of corn
should be on the floor, it is swept out of doors, or more frequently
into the fire to be wasted.
A great many men do not know that they can keep a pig; but there is
not a family in this city, where there are two, three, four, or five
persons, but what can save enough from their table, from the waste
made by the children, and what must be swept in the fire and out of
door, to make pork sufficient to last them through the year, or at
least all they should eat. When you know enough to put a pig in a pen,
do so; and when you have all opportunity to buy a bushel of corn,
oats, or bran, get your bins ready and lay it away.
I say to the mechanics, especially to those who work for me, make your
bins in the mornings and evenings, and do not spend the time we hire
you to work for us to do your chores in. And another thing I will
caution you about; do not steal the nails from the Public Works. Some
of you have stolen our nails and lumber to work into articles for your
own use. Do not do this.
We pay our mechanics from two and a half to five dollars a day, and
there is no necessity for many of them using more than fifty cents or
one dollar a day throughout the year. Why do you not buy a cow? "I
have nothing to feed her with." Yes, you have. In the course of the
season, you will find a time that you can buy a little straw, and
stack it up and take a good care of it. Buy now and then a bushel of
bran, or oats, or corn, and lay it by. When you have done your day's
work, take your axe, cut up the straw, throw a little meal on it, give it to the cow, and sit down and milk her yourself, unless your
wife is a good hand to milk, and can attend to it better and more
conveniently than you can; in that case, let her do the milking, but
do not set six or eight years' old children to stripping the cows.
Purchase cows, for if we have not already supplied you with cows, we
are able and willing to do so. Most, if not all, have already been
furnished with cows. What did you do with the calves? "We sold them
for a trifle." Why did you not raise them? Do you not know that they
would very soon be valuable? No, but you waste your calves, neglect
buying pigs, and live without milk, and many of the easily procured
comforts of life. Is there any necessity for this? No, there is not,
if people will try to use a little economy.
Go round this city now, and probably you will not see one garden out
of twenty, even where men have lived here four or five years, that has
a single fruit tree growing in it. Have they set out anything? Yes,
some cottonwoods; but they would not set out a peach tree, if you
would give it to them. In many lots there is not a fruit tree, or
currant bush, or anything to produce the little necessaries to make a
family comfortable.
If I lived as I used to, I would have my cow, and she would give milk,
and would not stray off; for I would always have a little handful of
food to give her when she came up at night; I would also feed her a
little in the morning, and at night she would come for more. I would
keep my pig in the pen, and have a few fowls to lay eggs. I would
raise my own pork, and in the spring I would not have to run to the
Public Works and say, "I have not anything to eat."
It is a shame that men and women do not pay more attention to the
prin ciples of economy in living. They want to have money to go to
market and buy everything ready made. They want to have somebody feed
them. I have thought, many times, that some persons would not be
satisfied, unless we baked plum puddings, and roasted beef for them,
and then fed them while they were lounging in big easy chairs; and
still perhaps they would think that they were ill treated, if we did
not chew the meat for them.
I worked hard when I first gathered with the Saints. I had to walk two
miles to my labor, and the sun seldom, if ever, shone on my work
before I had my tools in my hands and busily engaged; and I rarely
laid down my tools so long as I could see to use them. In the morning
I would get up and feed my cow and milk her, and do the other outdoor
chores while my wife would be preparing breakfast. My pig was in the
pen, and I would gather a little here and a little there, and a day
would not pass without its having sufficient food. Why do you not
think of these things? Because you will not.
Sisters, if you cannot properly attend to your bread making, and
manage to not let any more flour be wasted, tie a string round one of
your fingers so tight that it will hurt you, and every time you think
of the string, think of what brother Brigham tells you. When the
emptyings are in the flour, think of the string, also when the bread
is put in the oven; and if you are still afraid that you will forget,
tie the string a little tighter. And after your bread is beautifully
baked, do not let a crumb of it be wasted.
When your husband brings home meat, exercise sufficient judgment to
enable you to cook such portion as will be eaten, which is far better
than so much placed upon the table that a large part of it will be
wasted. Then take care of that which remains uncooked, put a little
salt upon it, and put it in a cool place where it will keep a
few days, and you will not be obliged to throw half of it away.
You may hear some woman here saying, "Husband, can you not go to the
store and get me some ribbon? I want a bonnet and a pair of new shoes.
Can you not get me some lining for a bonnet? I wish you would get me a
new dress, I have not had one for a whole month, and I want to go a
visiting; I cannot bear to wear these old dresses so often. I want a
few aprons and a few pairs of stockings." The man then has to buy the
bonnets, the linings, the dress patterns, &c., and also to hire them
made; and he has to buy aprons, shoes, and stockings, and even the
garters that are worn on the stockings. There is not judgment,
economy, and force enough in some women, to knit their own garters.
Let me tell you one thing, husbands; determine this year that you will
stop buying these things, and say to your wife, "Here is some wool;
knit your own stockings, or you will not have any: you will have to
prepare the cloth for yourselves and children: I will provide the
wool, the wheels, &c.; and if you will not make the cloth, you may go
without." Also raise flax, and prepare it for the women to
manufacture into summer clothing.
I remember going into a friend's house, one afternoon, when I was
quite young: I think I was about fifteen; and pretty soon a couple of
neighboring women came in to visit. They had not been in the house
more than twenty minutes before the woman of the house went and
brought out a pillow, and began to rail against her husband, saying,
"He is a dirty, nasty man; he is the filthiest man in the world; that
is the pillow he sleeps on." I thought, you miserable fool, Why do you
not wash that slip? Those women see that the blame rests on you, and
not on your husband. And she continued telling them how nasty, filthy,
and lazy he was. I knew enough about a family, at that early age, to
know where the fault lay. At the same time there was plenty of wool
and flax lying in her chamber, for I saw them; and a wheel and the
other implements were on hand, all of which the husband had toiled
for. He had also provided the cows, flour, and meat in abundance; but
because he did not do everything, he was a "nasty, lazy man." He must
feed the hogs, spin the wool, wash the pillowcases and sheets, and do
everything else, or be bemeaned by his wife. I said to myself, I
expect I shall be married when I am old enough, and if I get such an
animal as you are, I will put hooks in her nose to lead her in a way
you have not thought of.
I have seen a great many persons live in the neglect of all the
comforts of life, because they would not take hold and make themselves
comfortable. Others do not know what to do with the comforts of life,
when they have them. I have been in places where people had an
abundance, and yet they lived, figuratively speaking, at death's door,
with regard to food.
I recollect once walking up to a house in Illinois, where a young
woman was sitting just within the door dressed up, I may say, within
an inch of her life, in calico that cost ten or twelve cents a yard in
my country; and she was, according to her ideas, titivated out to the
ninety-nines. Fourteen milk cows, with calves by their sides, were
feeding on the prairie. I first asked her, "Can I buy some butter
here?" "No, sir." "Can I buy a little milk?" "No,
sir." I then asked
her whether her father owned those cows; "Yes, sir." "Do you
milk
them?" "No, sir; only a little in the morning to put in the coffee." I
wanted to laugh in her face, but politeness forbad me. There stood
fourteen new milk cows, and not a drop of milk in the house,
nor a pound of butter, and everything else was in keeping. An
abundance of good things was around them, and yet they had nothing
comfortable and wholesome.
It is just so with some people here. Every facility is in the
possession of this people for living in the very best manner, if they
would only learn how, and practice upon that knowledge. How much do
you have to pay for your cow's running on the range, or for the use of
a lot? Nothing. How much rent do you pay for your land? Not any. What
hinders you from raising something to feed a cow? Nothing. Who hinders
you from planting your garden with corn, and saving the suckers and
the fodder? Who hinders you from raising carrots, parsnips, squashes,
&c., to feed a cow with through the winter? This you can do on a
little more than a quarter of an acre, but will you do it? No; many of
you will not. Does anyone hinder you? No; and yet some of you
complain that you live poorly, and lay the blame upon me and brother
Kimball, and brother Wells, and those men who dictate the Public
Works.
We pay the public hands higher wages than they earn, and if they are
obliged to live on bread alone from day to day, it is for want of
economy and proper management. Am I to blame? No. Will I milk your
cows for you? No. Will I buy butter for you? No; we will give you all
that is brought in on tithing, and when we have done that, you may
calculate to do without, or make your own butter. I know families that
milk one cow for eight or ten in the family, and yet have butter on
the table all the time, and occasionally sell a little. Others have
six or eight cows, and seldom have any butter in the house; they do
not take care of what they have.
Instead of people being poor, we already have too much, unless we take
better care of it. I heard a man who is living in this city—one who
has always been well off—state that he used to keep twelve cows when
he first came here, and was often nearly destitute of milk and butter.
After a few years, the number of his cows was reduced to six, and he
said that the six did him more good than the twelve had done. In two
years more, they were reduced to two, and the two cows have done him
much more good than the twelve or the six did, for they could be and
were more properly attended to.
Let me have the privilege of dictating every chore about my house, and
I would soon put everything right. I do not have that privilege, for I
have so many and so much around me, that I have to depend upon others.
During the past six years, I have seldom kept in my yard less than
thirteen cows for the use of my family, and there has not been one
year of that time that we have had much more than milk enough the year
round to put in the tea and coffee. I have directed the men who feed
my cows to take a course to prevent such a variation in the supply of
milk. I have told them to feed the cows thus and so; to give them so
much in the morning, and so much at night, and to allow them as much
water as they would drink. And after all, though perhaps I would not
go to the barn as often as once in the week, I have frequently seen
from a peck to a bushel of good wheat meal shoveled into the yard out
of one cow's trough. And when I have asked what does this mean, "Why,
such a brother wanted to go a visiting, and would not be back for
three days, so he put the three days' feed before the cow at once."
Again, I might remark. "This cow looks poor; I have thousands of feed
to give her; what is the matter?" "She eat until she nearly killed
herself, and we have just made out to save her," and that is all the
satisfaction I would get. It is too often a perfect waste and
destruction under my own nose, because I cannot find time to look
after my private affairs.
I have asked myself, Shall I go and attend to my own business, or let
it go? And I have replied, I will let it go to hell backwards rather
than neglect my public duties. I will not neglect my public duties, if
my property all goes to destruction—if we do not have a drop of milk
from this time henceforth and forever. During the past winter, my
large family have had three cows, and they have done me six times more
good than ever the thirteen did. I prevailed upon one or two of my
women to do the milking for the first time, whereas heretofore I have
had to hire Jim, and Jack, and Peter Gimblet to do the milking, and
they would often pound a cow until she would not give down her milk,
and would kick her half to death, and then half milk her, and ruin
everything about me. Three cows now do us more good than fifty would
have done four years ago, under the old plan.
I expect that all persons who will not try to help and take care of
themselves the best they can, will see the time when they will wish
they had done so; yet I would like to turn away the evil day from
them, if I can possibly do it, by correct teaching and example. All
persons that will not try to take care of themselves, will see a day
of sorrow, and will regret the waste of time misspent in this life.
When I labored, I did the milking and feeding most of the time, and
fed the pig, and attended to all the outdoor chores; though, at the
same time, if I was absent, I had a wife, after I came into this
Church, who was always ready to feed pigs, milk and feed cows, and
work in the garden, or do anything that should be done, so far as she
was able. Wives, go into the garden and raise the salad and numerous
other articles within your judgment and strength. Who hindered you from
making a little vinegar last year? People are frequently running round
and asking, "Where can I buy some vinegar?" When I was keeping a
house, if my neighbors had a million hogsheads of vinegar, I had no
need to buy a spoonful of it, for I would make a plenty for my own
use, and would have eggs, butter, and pork, of my own producing, and
manage to secure beef, and salt it away nicely, and we had all the
essentials for comfortable diet.
Will the people continue to live? Many of them will merely manage to
stay, just as a family did in Illinois. During a conference held in
their neighborhood, we would sit down at the table, in the center of
which was a great big milkpan piled full of lean beef, and sour bread
to eat with it. After awhile, a plate of butter would be brought on,
quite white, and full of buttermilk; and those articles comprised our
dinner. When Sunday morning came, we had the rarity. In the mean time,
I found out who owned the farm, the sheep, the horses, the cows, the
oxen, the turkeys, the geese, the fowls, and the fine orchards. They
were all owned by Esquire Walker. On Sunday morning, we sat down to
the meat and bread, as usual, and clean butter was on the table that
time, if I recollect rightly; but there was one plate with something
upon it that I had not deciphered. I looked at it carefully, and by
and by I concluded that it faintly resembled a pie. Sister Walker
came along, saying, "Brother Young, there is some pie; it is peach
pie; do eat some." It was made of dough rolled out into a thin cake,
and put on a plate, with a thin streak of poor, refuse, fuzzy peaches
that had been merely halved, and the pits taken out; and then another
thick tough crust put over them. I took a piece, and said to brother
Kimball, What is this? at the same time giving him a wink.
"Why, brother Young," replied Mrs. Walker, "It is peach pie." I
remarked, "Brother Kimball, I never saw the like before in my life; did
you?" "Never." I went into the orchard, where they had been making
brandy out of the best peaches for three or four weeks. Could they be
put into a pie? No; but they must use the little, nasty, withered up
ones.
I have related that circumstance to show you how much they knew about
living. That family had plenty of fowls, cattle, and milk; and if they
had known how to manage their abundance, they could have had every
comfort of life served up in the richest and best style. They could
also have made hundreds of pounds of maple sugar, which is the best of
sweetening; for they had a sugar orchard on the farm. Yet, when I was
there, they had a house with five or seven beds in one room; and when
you walked across the floor, the planks would go clatter-to-bang. And
when they wanted to see in the day time, they had to open the door, or
draw up to the fireplace, and benefit by the light that came down the
chimney. I asked Esquire Walker why he did not put a good floor in his
house, and put in windows. He replied, "I have been thinking I would,
for several years. Friend Young, I have a good deal of money and
property on hand, and I think of going to Nauvoo, to invest several
thousand dollars." I state this to show you that many people do not
know what to do with what they have.
You may see some little girls around the streets here with their
mothers' skirts on, or their sun bonnets, and with their aprons full
of dirt. Your husbands buy you calico, but you do not know what to do
with it. It is to be carefully worn until the last thread is worn out,
and then put into the rag bag to make paper with.
Some men do not know what to do with their means. You may take the
poorest mechanic here, and one who has nothing but bread to eat, and
you may see him paying half a dollar or a dollar for a meal of
victuals at the Globe. You may see the barber shops crowded with our
poor mechanics, who pay from three to five dollars a quarter for being
shaved. I bought a razor, when I began to shave, that cost
thirty-seven and a half cents, and used it for fifteen years. Some
black their boots, so that they will not last more than two or three
months. I keep my boots well oiled, wear them two or three years, and
then give them to the poor.
Nearly all who grumble about their poor scanty fare, would be rich if
they would do as I do. Take care of your articles of food, of your
clothing, of your boots, and hats, and you will have plenty; and let
the women take care of what is taken into the house. If you do not go
to now and prepare for the day of trouble, you will be sorry, and will
lament and mourn.
I now want to tell you the feelings of several in this community: "I
do not want to build a good house, because I shall have to move away
by and by; our enemies will come and possess it. I do not want to lay
up corn, because our enemies will come and take it from me." If this
people will do as they are told, will live their religion, walk humbly
before their God, and deal justly with each other, we will make you
one promise, in the name of Israel's God, that you will never be
driven from the mountains. And instead of mobs coming here to break
open your granaries, they will come to this people, bringing their
gold, and their silver, and their fine things, and plead with them for
something to eat.
I told you last Sabbath, that if this people had not stepped forward
to help the poor last fall, you would have seen harder times in 1857
than you did in 1855 and 1856.
Let us keep in the favor of the Lord, and be his friends,
live to our covenants, love the Lord, and walk uprightly in all our
acts and dealings, so that we will not be afraid to have them scanned
by the Lord and His angels, and all good men on the earth; and we can
stand justified. May the Lord bless you. Amen.