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I, Nellie Elida Hunt, was born in Monroe, Utah 4 Mar. 1883, the third child of Emily Casto and Moroni Hunt. At the time of my birth my mother was nearly 20, lacking 19 days, my father was nearly 31.1
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Maggie Warnock was my first teacher. We went to school in a small rock building, I think it is known as the “Town Hall.” It is just south of the present school House. There was an old wooden black board, charts, maps, and a water bucket and dipper in one corner of the room. The seats were made of rough lumber, made to hold two children, but my two brothers and I sat in one seat. We marched up to the front of the room, and read our lessons from a chart all in concert:
Good bye, little rake, Good bye little hoe
Up in the attic you must go.
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I haven’t mentioned that the Spanish American War took place in 1898. I shall never forget when my brother Alvin woke us up in the night to tell us about the destruction of the “Maine”. You can read about that in your history. I was about 15 then.…
Going back to the war again, the night they had a farewell party for the boys, I wanted to go to the dance, but my parents wouldn’t let me. Ed and Alvie went. After they left I wrote the first verse I had ever written, called “The Boys in Blue”. The next morning I read them to Ma, and she had me read them to Pa, I can see him now, with the tears standing in his eyes. Next I wrote a poem called “Remember the Maine,” I wrote one about Amy, only I used the name of Milly in it. I finally got me a notebook to write my poems in, but one winter in school some one “swiped” it or it was lost, I don’t remember which.
Ed, George, Alvin, Howard, and Nellie Hunt, about 1887
1. Nellie was born Nellie Eliza Hunt, according to the Monroe Ward Membership Records and the Marriage License signed in their hands by both Mother and Dad. She didn’t like the name so changed it some time during her adolescence—RWC
Spring 1900
About this time in my life I wrote a poem called “Two Flowers”. I sent it to Salt Lake City to the Deseret Sunday School Union Board. I was afraid they wouldn’t publish it and I didn’t want anyone to make fun of it, so I never told any one, not even Mother or Janie. It was printed all right, but I [didn’t] find out about it until years after. Here it is:
Two Flowers
By the old stone wall in the garden two flowers grew side by side
One was a beautiful rosebud, whose beauty, alas, was her pride.
The other, a fair sweet lily of such a modest hue,
Who lived for the love she gave and received and the good that she could do.
The rose bud was discontented with the simple life she led,
Warmed by the gentle sunbeam and by the dew drops fed.
She never thought of thanking the sun for his gentle ray
And gave no heed to the Zephyr who kindly came her way.
Tired of peaceful solitude, she longed to go away
Far from her safe and quiet homes and live a life so gay.
One day a stranger passing, from her stem the sweet rose tore,
And that haughty flower’s thankless heart was quickly stationed o’er
[Proudly content in her new career, unreasoning helpless thing,
Felt she no shame at that rude caress, no keen resentful sting
She knew she was leaving her birthplace, the lonely little spot,
But her heart had gained its fond wish, for which it long had sought.]2
Into the brilliant ballroom he carried the blossom fair,
Then farther into the gay saloon, with its vile and stifling air,
But her beautiful color faded, her breath no longer sweet,
And the careless hand that had plucked her, cast her out in the stony street.
Alone in the cold dark gutter, unwept and unhonored she died
This beautiful rosebud, whose beauty, alas, was her pride.
“Just a pretty flower, Mama,” was the dying baby’s call.
And the mother found the lily by the Old Stone Wall.
The flower was placed in the Darling’s hand and together they died the two,
The lily grateful and full of joy for the good that she could do.
[Aged 17, 1900, written in Monroe, Utah]
2. This stanza is included in RWC’s transcription of the poems, but not in his transcription of the journals themselves.
Nov. 4, 1904
My Dear Nellie:—I received your most welcome letter this morning as the train was late last night I did not go to the office until this morning and I can tell you I was glad to hear from you again, to know that you are well and getting along as well as you are. I am well and getting along nicely, as I have changed boarding places, and am staying with my sister Alice at present, but working for father just the same.… I wish you were here this evening for there is a grand theater on and I guess every body is having a gay time. By the way where in the world did you find that sweet little piece of poetry.…
Happiness—A Recipe
To make it: Take a hall dimly lit;
A pair of stairs where two can sit;
Or soft music, a bar or so;
Two spoons of—to spoons you know
Of little love pats, one or two,
Or one squeezed hand, instead, will do;
A waist—the size to be embraced!
Two ripe lips rose red, to taste;
And if the lips are soft and sweet
You’ll find your happiness complete.
—Selected
Ralph Collings, about 1903
1910
