[Editor’s Note: This letter, written by Joseph Smith III to his cousin, John Smith, reveals something of the affection which ought to exist between cousins. It is a simple recall of childhood memories, and a plea that the affections which made childhood so wonderful might continue throughout life. It also tells of family news, of a recent visit to Nauvoo, and of the changes that city had undergone since their youth. These two cousins had been separated by strong religious differences, by hundreds of miles, and by decades of association. Still, their affections for one another overcame the years. Joseph Smith III was born Nov. 6, 1832, in Kirtland, Ohio; he died Dec. 10, 1914. He was the son of the Prophet Joseph Smith and his wife, Emma. John Smith, his cousin, was born Sept. 22, 1832, also at Kirtland, Ohio, the son of Hyrum Smith and his wife, Jerusha Barden. John Smith died on his cousin’s birthday, Nov. 6, 1911.]
Excerpts from a letter…
Dear Cousin John: Dec. 20, 1909
…I know what a task it is for you to write, but I would be pleased indeed if you would sometime take the pains to write me, or have someone write for you, and tell me about Loren Walker, whether he is living or dead, and the members of his family, who they are and where they are. I seem to remember meeting her at Ogden once, and when she and her family were on the road to Star Valley. Since then I have heard nothing about them. I understood that Sarah died many years ago. I met your half-sister Martha, the last time I was at Provo, but I have heard nothing about them or their children and really do not know how many children they have or what they are doing. I met one of them at Provo, I think in 1889, and he was then clerking for the cooperative store at Provo under the management of Bishop Smoot, and I have heard noting of him since, except incidentally I heard that he had gone into business for himself.
I know that I am asking considerable of you, but when I remember that you are some six weeks ahead of me in the race of life, and that we are both rapidly passing to the great beyond, to join the hosts that have gone before, I am reminded of the far off past when you and I used to ride through the streets of Nauvoo, you on the white horse and I on the black, the two most noted boys in the city. Some of those days come back like a flood to my memory, and I wonder how much of the past you may recall. Not many are left, Cousin John, of the band that we knew then. The Snyder boys, Edgerton, and John, the Haws boys (Alpheus and Albert), the Marks boys (William and Louellen), Jared Carter’s boys, the Turney children, Sydney Rigdon’s children (Sydney and Wycliff), the last named being at Salt Lake City now as I understand, the Laws (Richard and William), Edward Partridge, the Billings boys, the Decker boys, the Hancock’s, Joseph Clapp, James and Henry Lawrence, the Lytles, the Phelps (James and Henry), Loren’s brothers, (James and Henry), Allreads and others, most of which have gone on before, leaving but few of the little circle whom we knew, all admonished us that the places we occupy will soon be vacated for others now younger and stronger, who will take up with vigor the things we leave undone.
Please, cousin John, write me as fully as you can, or have some one do it for you, as I am having my letters written to you.
…Cousin Don and his wife, and daughters, Mary Deam, Emma Peterson, Dr. of medicine at Ottuma, Iowa, and Grace, the unmarried daughter, made a visit to Nauvoo with wife and myself and our youngest boy, and had a picnic dinner on the banks of the river at the foot of Main St., which you will doubtless well remember. The stone to which I used to tie my boat still lies on the shore, the ring bolt is broken off, but its rusted end still remains in the hole drilled to receive it. The river still runs by the town, but the streets are grass grown, and nothing remains to mark where you folks used to live but the barn standing on the site where your barn stood, and the well in front of where the house used to stand. It would make your heart ache to see the desolation into which all the lower part of the flat is fallen.
But perhaps this will not interest you, cousin, but I have been trying to think up the things of those days for the purpose of writing a book of memories, and some of them come quite clear to my memory. You will probably remember, William and Leuellen Marks, who lived next door east [of] you folks. They went into business in Mendota, Ill., were for a time engaged in the manufacture of the western cottage organ. William died at Sandwich, Illinois, leaving a small family, and Louellyn died at Mendota, not many years after William’s death. What family he left and in what condition, I do not know. William gave me his father’s book, as he said he neither cared for them nor the religion. Neither of them never paid any attention whatever to me, and so far as I know never engaged in any religious work at all. You will also remember John Brackenbury, I presume. He died at Riverside, California, but he has quite a family, most of whom are living here at Independence. I would like it if you could visit me this next Summer, should I be living, and we will talk those old days over. I am, dear cousin,
Yours in the hope of life,
Joseph Smith