Autobiography of Louise Thalmann Hasler
Autobiography of Louise Thalmann Hasler
In a mountainous part of Switzerland in the County of Thurgau, Parish Dussnang, I was born on
the 26th of August, 1843. My parents were Heinrich Thalmann and Anna Thalmann. They were
distant relatives to each other.
My first recollection of my existence in life came possible to me when I was four years old. I
have a faint remembrance, at that age of seeing my father in life. I had been in the garden on the
front of our house and plucked some of his choices flowers and given them to a girl who had
asked me for them. My father came home and chided me for taking his nice flowers. It must
have been shortly after this time that I saw, one day, a strange man coming to the house. He
went into the bedroom. I learned afterwards that it was our family doctor. When he went away
my mother followed him to the door and when she came in again she seemed to be in great
distress.
After that I saw more people going into my father=s bedroom, and my mother was in tears. Then
they told me my father was dead. Then another man came and went into the bedroom, and I
slipped in with him, and this man took his measurements. I noticed then, my father lying on his
bed B so tall and still.
I did not realize what death meant until I was led into the room again to see him lying in a black
coffin. His eyes were partly open and I thought my papa would soon wake up again. But then
the funeral came and I was to begin to realize that the people that gathered were going to take my
papa away. A stretcher was placed before the house and our friends found me working hard to
get that stretcher out of the way. I was then gently taken into the house by sympathizing friends.
When the procession started, my sister and I were led by the hand of an aunt. Our dear one was
carried to his burying place in the churchyard. I heard my mother ahead of us sobbing in grief. I
rushed up to her, then fully realized where we were all going.
When we came near the church, the funeral bells were tolling and I well remember how my little
heart suffered. When we reached the open grave, the coffin was lowered, oh so deep! There had
not been a vault made to place the coffin in to prevent the earth and rocks from falling upon the
coffin. Oh horrors! That sound to my child heart was so terribly painful I could not stand it, and
years after I could not stand near an open grave. It is just as plain now at my age as it was then.
My father died on the 15th of September, 1847.
I well remember the first winter that followed. I believe our mother was timid to be alone. She
would keep us children up at night as long as we could stay awake. We both would cuddle up
close to her, and she would tell us stories and so many things about our father that we got as well
acquainted with him as if he were with us. Mother=s timid feelings were occasioned a great deal
because our house was broken into three times that winter, but it seems the burglars were
frightened away every time without getting anything. Mother was grieving so much over our
loss that she could not stand us children having our frolic and laughter, especially when she
prepared our evening meal. She would come into the dining room and bid us to be quiet.
A friend of ours noticed our condition and told her that she should not grieve so much. She
deprived her children of the happiness that was due to them. After that time, she tried hard to
control herself, and allowed us more freedom.
Mother=s task was a hard one because much hard labor was required of her and us children. We
were too small to help her. But she adapted herself bravely to hard labor that was required of
her. In our country, the law required of a widow that was left with children, that the house and
property left at her husband=s death be appraised at its full value and a guardian appointed, that it
should be protected in case the mother should marry again.
The law was right, but such a guardian could exercise too much power sometimes. The times
were hard, everything was high in price, money scarce, taxes high, the farm did not bring in
enough to cover expenses. The breadwinner was gone. We had splendid timberland on our
farm, but we were not allowed to sell anything to tide us over. My mother had to do man=s work
on the farm. We had no money to hire. In the first few years a brother of hers came and helped
her considerable in haying time, for which she was thankful. Also, a sister of mother=s came and
helped in harvest time to cut the grain with the sickle.
Pleasant memories are those for us children when Aunt Katherine came. She was never married
and always so happy. She was so quaintly dressed. She had always some nice candy in her deep
pockets of her homespun linen dress, and in her satchel, a huge gingerbread man for each of us
children and for mother, some coffee cake. She brought us children our first dolls. I remember
mine was dressed in pink silk, trimmed with lace and gold beads. She could do anything but
walk. As soon as we children were able to carry a burden, we had to help. Everything that
would grow on our farm had to be carried. There was scarcely a level place to build a house on;
however, our land and meadow were all close to our home; and we raised enough hay to keep
two cows. We always raised our own foodstuff, potatoes and fruit, etc.
Our schooldays were very happy ones. In the long winter months, we had lots of sport with our
sleighs. They would carry us down to the valley below to the schoolhouse about as fast as we
travel now in our autos. It was not quite as pleasant going home in the evenings through the
deep snow that had fallen during the day. We had such long hard winters there, but the boys
would go in single file and draw our sleighs to make a path for the girls, and keep the road open
for the next morning. It was a half-hour walk to our school, to church - one hour.
We spent lunch time and recess on the mill pond skating. I fell in once and got under the ice.
The boys quickly formed a chain, got hold of my head and pulled me out. I worried more about
my wet clothes than about my cold head.
After we got out of school, we could be more of a help to mother. We got ingenious and had a
little wagon made to haul our products home, which helped us very much.
I just mention, at this time, our good neighbors B two or three families that lived not very far
from our home, who were so very good to us. One was a carpenter, and when any farming tools
or many other things in our home were broken, we could go there and they never turned us away
and mended many things for us without pay. How thankful we were for their great kindness to
us. We tried our best to show our appreciation in doing errands for them. Neither of them had
children. Mother advised us that if ever we could do any errands for them to drop everything
and do it. But we always felt that we never could get even with them. I have never forgotten
them, and I had been so thankful that I could do the work for them in the temple and for their
families. I want to meet them again in the life to come.
Our mother was quite strict with us children. We did not have as much freedom as many other
children had. We were kept at work. She taught us to pray, and was very particular to have us
attend Sunday school and meetings. We were taught in the Protestant Church. I well remember
how she would get us children up in the middle of the night when there was a thunderstorm and
she would pray with us, asking the Lord to temper the elements and that we would be preserved
from fire. Our large house was a wooden structure. There was danger of lightening striking the
building. We were mostly without water to fight a fire in the summertime and we had full faith
that the Lord would answer our prayers.
Mother loved nature and instilled that love of the beautiful in us children. Often I have seen her
working in the fields in springtime when all nature was in its verdure. The birds were singing B
the cuckoo calling. She would lay down her tools and fold her hands, thanking and praising our
Father in Heaven that in his loving kindness he was doing so much for us. When my sister got
out of school, she learned to weave cloth in the long winter months. Mother would be at the
spinning wheel working up flax we had raised in the summer, myself knitting and sewing our
family=s linen. Can anyone picture a happier, more contented, and more peaceful life with us
girls singing our patriotic songs which the Swiss love and believe in so much?
But the poet, Schiller, says, AWe cannot limit the threads of happiness for any length of time!@
My sister commenced to have her love affairs and when she was 19 years old, she was engaged
to a young man who was in good circumstances, was a baker by trade, and an only son. Before
she was 20 years old, she married and left the parental home.
By this time, we girls had learned to do all work that was needed on the farm, even cutting the
grass with scythes, curing it and bringing it home like men did. Now her leaving was a hard
blow for us, but Mother and I kept it up. By this time we could afford to hire a little more help in
the busy season. We had brought the farm into better paying condition and also in our country,
when we left school at 14 years of age, we entered into our religion class work with the
Protestant minister twice a week until we were 17 years old. During this time, we went through
the old and new Testament catechism before our confirmation and we then were admitted as
members and allowed to partake of the sacrament. I was fortunate to have a devout teacher as
far as he understood it. I was a favorite of my class and was religiously inclined. My teacher
said I was truly converted. His training, however, was a great help to me when later I received
the true gospel of Jesus Christ.
After about three years after my sister got married, she and her husband=s sister went on an
errand to a place where they met Mormon Elders and were introduced to them. The lady they
visited was a member. The missionaries engaged them in a conversation and explained their
doctrine to them. They both became very much interested and the Elders invited them to a
meeting the next Sunday that would be held in the woods away from town. They could not get a
place to meet in. After they got home late in the evening, my sister told her husband what they
heard and persuaded him to go with them on Sunday to attend the meeting. Strange to say, their
church was but a stone=s throw from their own house. More out of curiosity, he consented to go
with them.
They all got interested in what they heard. They were anxious to hear more. They made
frequent visits to the lady first mentioned who was a good conversationalist and was eager to
explain and teach. They later invited the elders to their home, and in the matter of a few months,
applied for baptism. My brother-in-law was very popular and jovial. They kept an Inn, besides a
flourishing baker trade and a very comfortable home. The news that these people had joined the
Mormons spread like wildfire. The opposition they had to face from relatives, friends and the
whole population was hard against them.
The Elders felt much concerned about them and the situation that confronted them, more so as
they were going to be released to go back to Utah. They convinced the family to try and get
ready and emigrate with them. But there were the aged parents to be left behind. The situation
was indeed critical. Their father refused them money to emigrate, being much influenced by
others. My brother-in-law, with his jovial disposition, and after marriage often found past-time
in card playing, which is most always accompanied with the wine glass. My mother had noticed
this habit soon and had worried over it. They were raising a family and she thought it would be
such a bad example to their children.
At this time when we too were agitated about this new and unpopular religion he came to our
home often to tell us about their trend of mind. He took pains to explain to us out of the bible
that this so much misrepresented organization was in accordance with the teachings of Jesus
Christ. We could, of course, not comprehend at that time; but mother said there must be
something very remarkable or it would not make such a change in a man=s heart who never
pretended religion before. She then came to their rescue and borrowed the money to help them.
They were determined to go and she said no child of hers should suffer if she had it in her power
to help her.
They got ready with their two small children and his sister and left of the 6th of May, 1864, to go
to Utah. My sister took from us the promise before they left us that is some missionaries should
come our way, we should entertain them and we would be blessed. We did do that for their sake.
They endured many trials on their journey. They had a child born on board the ship which died
before they landed, and a boy two years old across the plains, but their faith was strong and they
never wavered. When they wrote to us after they arrived in Salt Lake sometime in October their
testimony was strong, full of faith and cheer.
In 1866, I got acquainted with my future husband which ripened later into friendship. I had
suitors before this time, which was not uncommon with a young woman of some means in sight
at her marriage, but I was always very cautious for fear it was the money my admirers were after
and not just the girl. I was more afraid that the gospel was true and I would do a great wrong if I
would bind myself to anyone there and would be deprived of accepting it if I would be
convinced that it was true. I was not humble enough to accept it. I was generally frank to such
young men, and told them that I might go to Utah. This answer was generally sufficient. They
would not press the suit any longer.
But this method did not work so well with Mr. Hasler. He wanted to know more about it.
Before my brother-in-law went to Utah, he had some business transactions with him and came to
Mr. Winkler=s home a day or two before they were leaving. He wanted to know what could
induce him to leave such a good home and prosperous business to go to America. Mr. Winkler
took him to his private room and explained the gospel and bore his testimony to him. I was
present and asked Mr. Hasler if he wanted to become a Mormon. He then took a promise from
Mr. Winkler that he should write to him if he would find he was not deceived.
This incident must have been forgotten by both parties. But two years later, Mr. Hasler was led
to my home to ascertain how my folks had found their new home and religion in Utah. He asked
for their address. He wrote to Mr. Winkler who answered his inquiring letter, and again bore
testimony to him. He investigated in the City of Zurich the nearest branch where President Karl
G. Maeser, in his eloquent, convincing way, made many converts. A few months after in
November, 1868, he was baptized by Benjamin Brapbacher and confirmed by Karl G. Maeser.
My sister and husband continued to encourage Mother and me to give obedience to the gospel
message which we finally accepted. I was baptized on the 1st of April, 1869. I was married to
John Hasler on the 14th of May, 1869. We were then able to sell our home and farm at a great
sacrifice, but we were thankful that the way was open for us to go to Zion.
Leaving our home had not been so hard on us. Relatives and friends turned against us. Some of
them forbade us to come and take farewell. We now made preparations to emigrate. My
mother=s health was very poor. Hard work had weakened her constitution. The dreaded disease
of dropsy had set in. The doctor told us we should never attempt to take her on a journey. She
would never reach Liverpool. But Mother was determined to try. She had great faith in the
ordinances of the gospel. She was administered to and when we reached New York, she was
well and stood the overland journey just fine. Our was the first company of saints that traveled
in comfortable cars over the desert to Ogden, Utah.
My brother-in-law, Ulrich Winkler, met us in Salt Lake City. We bough us a yoke of oxen, a
wagon plow, some farming tools, and a cook stove before we started for Mt. Pleasant. I forgot to
tell that when we started from the city of Zurich, we took with us a little boy, three years old, of a
poor sister who had no money to emigrate. Another family took a little six-year-old with them.
Their mother had a promise to come the next year. When we left Salt Lake City our wagon was
heavily loaded. Another family followed us to Mt. Pleasant.
When we came as far as Payson one of our oxen took sick, and we hired a man with another
yoke of oxen to help us along for a day. I was riding on the wagon that was loaded with trunks
holding the little boy on my lap. The man was not a careful driver. He crossed a deep ditch and
I lost my hold and was pitched from my high seat onto the wagon tongue, and the little boy into
the ditch. The heavily loaded wagon went right over his abdomen. After we were both
extricated, the little boy opened his blue eyes and just gave one gasp. Imagine my feelings when
I sat on the side of the road holding the little boy in my arms, apparently lifeless.
Mr. Winkler and my husband administered to him and before very long, he commenced to
breathe again. We worked very long with him and in the confusion I could not find any dry
clothes for him. We wrapped him in a blanket and my mother took him in the other wagon. I
stayed behind and washed his clothes. Evening had overtaken us.
After I had washed his clothes, I started to follow the wagon but my legs refused to go. I tried
hard to follow but my legs refused to go. I could not. It got dark and I could not overtake them.
They did not miss me until they stopped to unhitch. Thinking I was in the last wagon, my
husband came rushing back to find me and when he assured me that the little fellow was alive, I
began to get strength to walk to the camp with his help. What a wonderful testimony that was to
us all. The boy was all well the next morning when we continued our journey.
We arrived in Mt. Pleasant the last of September, 1869. Our joy and happiness was complete
when we were united again as a family. Mother often told me she would never be happy until
we could embrace one another again. We two sisters had always been so near to each other, such
close companions. My sister=s family had been driven from Richfield a year before on account
of Indian trouble, and had to make a new start again in Mt. Pleasant. They had a little house
partly built with two rooms. We lived together that year, but in the spring, both of our families
had welcomed an addition. My sister now had three children, and ours was our first son. We
called him Henry Hasler. We began to get crowded for room, and we now wanted to start a
home of our own. He was born June 14, 1870.
My husband had taken up a city lot and started to build a cellar. We did not have means enough
to start a new house, too. We had assisted several families to emigrate, but of course they were
not in a position to pay us back. My husband then put a roof on the cellar and divided it into two
rooms. We had lumber enough to make a floor in one room, made two small windows and
doors, and on Christmas Eve 1870, we moved into our new home. I had whitewashed the walls
and decorated them with pictures of relatives and friends. People may move into mansions, but I
doubt if anyone could feel more happy than we were. We held ourselves in each other=s arms,
shed tears of joy that we now had a home again of our own. But to the credit and gratitude I
must say that my sister and family had made us more than welcome and assisted us in every way
that they could.
I cannot remember that we ever had an unpleasant word between us, until we came to divide our
dear mother. My sister claimed that since she had left our home I had had her all the time and
that it was her turn to have her. We shed some tears together, both of us seemed to be selfish.
At last we concluded to let our mother decide where she wanted to stay. She said, ASince there
were only two city lots to divide us, she thought she could mother both of us.@ As I was the
youngest, she decided I needed her most, with a promise that she would always be where she
was most needed. This was satisfactory with all of us.
We started in with a will to make us a home, cleared the land off and fenced the two city lots
with cedar posts and willows, weaving them in basket fashion. We started some gardens, but the
grasshoppers ate up everything the first year. We got two pounds of lucern seed from Salt Lake
City and planted the first lucern in Mt. Pleasant. We had many rocks, large and small, on our
lots, which showed bigger when the sagebrush had been removed. Water had to be brought on
the land a mile away that could not be plowed. I had done hard farming at home, but this was a
new task. My husband was a hard-working man, but neither of us was skilled at pioneering. We
did not work to an advantage as an American goes to work.
I must admit that one day I say on one of these huge rocks and cried bitterly in front of the place.
He came and sat by me and tried to comfort me. He said this very rock could be made a very
romantic spot. The rocks could be made very quaint and scenic. He would plant shrubs and
vines around them, flowers would make it beautiful. The picture helped to comfort me. The
rocks are still there yet, but there is lucern grown around them and they do not look nearly as
large as they did then.
On February 11, 1871, another son was born to us. We named him John Hasler. He did not
come to stay very longBonly three months. He was sick only one day with convulsions and we
had to give him up. He was so sweet and bright. His papa often called him his little angel, and
an angel he was soon going to be.
In September, 1872, my husband came down with typhoid fever. I will not repeat this long and
severe trial. It is described in my husband=s diary, but I must mention how faithful and true the
brethren holding the Holy Priesthood had been to us. They came to visit us for months almost
every day to comfort, help and bless him. It was hard for us all to exercise faith. He was so very
low so long. To human appearance, it would seem impossible to think he could live. The
nearest doctor was living in Nephi. I telegraphed for Dr. McEwan, but on account of sickness in
his household, he could not come. We were often told it was not right for us to fast and pray for
him to live. It would be better if he could be released from his suffering, but as long as there is
life, there is hope.
Those were trying days. My little boy, Henry, then two years old, had also taken the fever. Both
were lingering between life and death for a long time. My mother was a great support to me in
tending and nursing the little boy. Never will I forget the help and support of my sister, her
husband and the faithful elders who exercised faith, prayers and fasting in our behalf. Surely our
Father in Heaven will reward them. They have all of them since gone to their rest. Blessed be
their memory.
His condition was very low all winter. His body was reduced to a skeleton. He had to be lifted
around. He could not help himself in the least. On March 25, 1873, under this condition, I was
delivered of a little baby girl. She came indeed to bring hope and cheer and gladness under this
condition. I had for weeks and months carried my husband in my arms from one room to the
other. My strength was much spent and overtaxed by night and day. At this time, my sister was
with me and when I was made comfortable she wanted to go home and bring the glad news to
her family, intending to be right back. As she turned to me as she was leaving, she noticed that I
had at once become unconscious. She rushed to my bedside and tried hard to bring me to notice
her, but to no avail. I can remember I heard her pleading, but I could not speak. At last she
rushed off to find some elders, but she had to run a long way as we then had no near neighbors.
During this time, my husband had managed to get to me without assistance from his bed, and in
the anguish of his heart and soul, prayed over me and asked the Lord to let me come back. More
than an hour must have elapsed when my sister returned and an elder with her. He administered
tome and after he took his hand from my hear, I came to again. My sister tenderly nursed me
and in about two weeks, I was able to do my work again and take care of my dear ones.
My husband was lifted up from the cellar the first time on the first day of May to enjoy the
sunshine, and soon after was able to walk on crutches.
About July, papa was still not able to walk without his crutches, and we had to have hay for our
cattle. We owned some hayland in what is now called Chester. Everyone was so busy getting
their own hay home, but some kind brethren told us they could cut and load our hay if we could
get our team down there. We managed to yoke up our oxen. I got a little ladder for my husband
to get on the wagon and we drove to the hayfield. There were always kind people to load our
wagon, and then put us both on the load again. Our home journey was mostly in the night. Ox
teams are slow. I was told to always put my arms around the binding of the pole so if we got in a
chuck hole I wouldn=t fall off, but one night I went to sleep and fell down from the load
unnoticed. Papa drove on. He did not know what had happened. After I gathered myself up I
started limping after the wagon. He had quite a start. It was not far from town when I caught up
beside the wagon and called to him to let me ride with him. Papa was not a little frightened,
thinking it was my ghost calling. Happily, I was not hurt much. We were thankful to get our
hay home.
In 1875, we joined the United Order which delayed, somewhat, the building of our house. We
had the adobes made. I handled those adobes two and three times until they were in the wall. I
helped to bring them from the yard, unloaded them, and then handed them up again. I can
remember how sore my hands were. My husband gave up his land, oxen, wagon, cows and he
had to teach music in school, brassband and the choir. Mason and carpenters were assigned to
do the building, but before the house was up to the top the mason drew out of the order and the
carpenters likewise. It was a six-room house, intended. However we had two rooms ready ready
to put the roof on. It was getting late in the all. I was determined there should not be another
baby born in the cellar. I put the shingles on myself so that we could move into the house. Papa
did the carpenter work in the house, so we were able to move into the house about December. In
January (the 31st), 1875, another son was born to us. We named him Walter Hasler.
In 1875, I was called as Secretary to our President, M. F. C. Morrison, in the Relief Society,
which position I held for 32 years until our President died and another organization was effected.
At the time of my calling I was ill-fitted for the position. I was greatly handicapped, not having
mastered much of the English language, but I went to work with a will, with my papers and
dictionary. I translated the minutes into English from my mother tongue.
This work was a great joy and blessing to me. I was associated with the best and truest of sisters.
I was the youngest of them. The experience of associating with them was a great joy and benefit
to me. I am ever-thankful to my Heavenly Father that this great privilege came to me. When
later my sons were called on missions, I could correspond with them and encourage them in their
work.
In 1877, on the 16th of July, another little daughter came to bless our home. We named her
Louisa Hasler. She was such a sweet treasure to gladden our home, but only for a short time.
She died of scarlet fever when she was only eight months old. Parting with those little treasures
was a very hard trial for us.
On the 22nd of December (1878 or 1879) another son was born to us. We gave him the name of
Emil Hasler. He was very welcome because the other children had grown out of their babyhood.
About that time another sorrow awaited us. My dear mother took very ill. She took to her bed
after Christmas time and lingered all winter. We hoped that springtime would have an
invigorating influence over her, but the Lord had destined it otherwise. She had lived 76 years.
Mother was always so thankful and happy that she was able to reside in America and receive the
gospel of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. She was the only one of her family that was able to
come to this land, and be united with her children and live with the prophets and apostles.
She was greatly handicapped at her age. She was not able to learn the English language, but she
had received the spirit of the gospel. As soon as she was baptized, she gave of her means to help
different families. She was generous to a fault, as some of the people did not appreciate her
kindness, and did not prove worthy of it.
In the fall of 1880 my only sister=s health seemed to be failing her. It caused us some alarm, but
we attributed it to her delicate condition and we hoped when her time would come she would
soon be restored to her former health and strength again. Her hopeful and cheerful disposition
gave us reason to hope for the best.
In October, she was delivered of a baby boy. In our joy in her new delivery, we did not notice
that a change for the worse had come over her. The dreaded disease of dropsy had rapidly
developed, to which she succumbed on the 9th of December, 1880. Her little baby had preceded
her a few weeks before in death. This was a hard blow to her husband and family of five
children, the youngest not two years old. And indeed it was a very hard trial for me, we having
so recently parted with my dear mother. But then we felt our loss together. Now I mourned
alone. We had been more than sisters to each other. There was a companionship that few enjoy.
I, too, was in a delicate condition, and the shock came so unexpectedly to me, I took sick and in a
few weeks gave birth to a premature child, we named him Edward Hasler, but he died the day
after he wa born. Thus we added another grave to those we had already laid away.
In the spring at April Conference, my husband was called to go on a mission to his native
country. He had only two weeks to get ready. We were quite destitute for clothes to wear at this
time. We had used our means to finish the house, but we had plenty of breadstuff. The good
people of Mt. Pleasant donated enough money to take him to his field of labor. He was given a
farewell party together with another missionary. Many were invited. I had nothing to wear to
accompany him to the party. I had a silk wedding dress, but I had taken it to pieces, thinking I
could make it a cloak for my little seven-year-old girl. I intended to make it warm with some
woolen home-made lining, but when I was invited to the party, I say up all night and put the
dress together again. And to the surprise of my friends I came out in the silk dress and wore a
pair of home-made shoes which sounded quite loud to the rustle of my dress. Fortunately, it was
quite long and I was careful to cover my dress over my shoes.
I worked very hard while my husband was a way. I worked in the harvest field. We did not
have self-binders them, and I was not the only woman that worked in the field. But it came hard
on me because I was not used to that kind of work. I left my four children alone. Oh, how I
missed my mother! It was always late at night when I came home. I told the children to sit on
the floor when they were beginning to be sleepy as they would not be apt to fall from their
chairs. I would most generally find them all four in a row on the floor asleep.
From that time on my little girl mothered my children. I could always depend on her to be with
them. In the winter, I got work crocheting hoods for the school children. I earned enough
money to make us comfortable, thus we got along just fine until papa returned in the fall of 1882.
When he returned, he brought some emigrants home with him in fulfillment of his patriarchal
blessing that he would return bringing his sheep with him. Four followed him to Mt. Pleasant.
He also had charge of an emigration of 72 saints from Switzerland. Among them, he brought
home to Mt. Pleasant, and old lady who just recently had lost the only daughter she had, who
was also to emigrate with her mother when death overtook her. This sister before her death had
taken a promise from Brother Hasler who had visited her at her deathbed that he would take her
mother home with him to Utah and take care of her as long as she lived.
When she came we all were very glad to have another grandmother, which she indeed proved to
be to us and out children in every sense of the word. If she had been our very own grandma, we
could not have loved her any better and she loved us. She lived with us for fifteen years and died
in August, 1897. Her name was Elizabeth Muller, born in Langenhart at Zurich, Switzerland.
On August 13, 1883, Mina Otilia Hasler was born. We called her our missionary girl. She
brought much joy and happiness into our home. After my husband returned from his mission, he
started to teach music at our home. He had mostly students from out of town. They boarded at
our house. We had two instruments in different parts of the house. The first session would start
at 6 o=clock in the morning. There were generally three students. Four-hour lessons were given
a day and that many hours practice in a day. A term was three weeks. Many of the students that
had some talent would advance quite fast in the art of music. Many of them would return home
and would be able to play in Sunday Schools and meetings to play our church hymns, which was
quite a help in those days. Many of our organizations had thus been benefitted throughout the
counties of Sevier and Sanpete.
In June, 1886, our last baby was born, which nearly cost my life. It was one of the greatest
tesimonies we received of the power of the priesthood when my life was spared. Conditions
were such that it was impossible for me by human appearance to get through this ordeal and live.
No skilled medical help was obtainable. Nightly prayers were offered up to our father in heaven
by the priesthood and my dear ones, and in a wonderful way my life was spared. My beautiful
baby boy=s life had to be sacrificed.
It is hard, often in human life, when you have to meet with trials that will try your heart and soul,
trials you cannot share with any soul, however near and true. Your heart strings may be almost
ready to snap, but you will carry the burden alone. Hearts don=t break. It will be wounded, it
will bleed, and the wound will be hard to heal. Some try to find relief in the whirlpool of
pleasure. I doubt it! Fortunate is he or she who can go to their sacred alter, humble themselves
and bring before their Father in Heaven your load you have to bear when it seems to you that the
waters of sorrow will overflow it. Unload your burden to Him that lurks in the recess of your
heart; you will not ask in vain, his great mercy, his loving kindness will manifest to you the
healing balm of his holy spirit and there alone you will find peace and comfort. What wonderful
testimonies will be revealed to you.
In the year 1893, our oldest son, Henry, was called on a mission to Switzerland and Germany.
He worked one year in our native land, one in Germany, and one in the office in Bern as
Secretary. He returned in 1896. In 1898, our second son, Walter Hasler, was called on a mission
to our native country. After he graduated from the B.Y.U. in Provo he labored 2 2 years in
Germany. He returned in 1901.
We have been able to give our children, and not without sacrifice, some educational advantages
that would be a help to them through life. Our home was not a pretentious one, but hospitality
was given freely to all that entered it. We welcomed and entertained in our home such men as
Dr. Karl G. Maeser, Dr. Talmage, Brimhall, Keeler, B. Cluff of the B.Y.U. We entertained
sisters of the General Board of the Relief Society, Mrs. Annie T. Hyde, Elizabeth Grant, Lisa
Farnsworth, and many others. We harbored about 24 emigrants at different times, some of them
for weeks, some for months, until they could find houses of their own. All were made welcome
and at home.
Our home was a place where the young folks congregated, where freedom, music and song were
enjoyed and all made welcome. We also harbored a number of people that were hunted down
because they were accused of breaking the law of the land. We were loyal to our trust and not
any of our children betrayed the trust. I remember a little incident that happened some time ago.
It was a cold and dreary November night, rain had come down in torrents all day. At a late hour
we heard a loud knock at our door. As my husband opened the door, a man stepped in, all wet
and cold. He asked if he could not get a night=s lodging for two families. They came from Manti
where they had been in the temple. They aimed to reach Fairview where they had friends, but
their horses gave out and they could not get any farther. As they entered our town, they asked at
many places, but no one could make room for them. They had little children with them, both
women and children were cold, hungry and wet. My husband told them to come in.
We made a warm fire. I warmed a kettle full of hot milk with fresh bread, then I put the little
children in our warm beds. I kept a good fire all night to dry their wet clothes and bedding.
They told us that a man had directed them to our place where a light was still burning. AThere
lives Brother Hasler. He is a good man. He takes everybody in. He will make you
comfortbale.@
In later years I met one of the ladies in Provo. She told me that never in her whole life had hot
milk tasted so good to them as it did that night.
In 1897, our daughter, Lydia, was married in the temple at Manti to Arthur C. Candland of Mt.
Pleasant. Her husband left her a few days afterward on a mission to the southern states. Lydia
did not leave our home until he returned two years after. The same year my son, Henry was
married to Sophia Kelch in the Manti Temple.
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