Ellen Phillips was born July 1813 in Pembrokeshire, South Wales. Her mother died when she was very young. Her father kept blood hounds and blooded horsed and she was very fond of riding and did a great deal of it. One day she met with an injury and was thrown off the horse and it stumbled on her in a way that it injured her shoulder. She never grew to be very large and was very retiring. When she went to church she always sat near the door and left quickly. Her father married again and died when she was but a girl. He called her to his bedside before he died and told her he had been a student of the Bible and that he knew the Gospel was not on the earth. He said that he had looked for it to come in his day, but it had not come, according to the predictions in scriptures. "It may be in your day, Ellen, so join it, my girl. You will know it by its organization or prophets and apostles, etc." She married George Duggan Gibbs and to them were born seven children, three sons and four daughters, my mother being the eldest. Six of them emigrated with their parents to this country [USA]. My mother came previously with an uncle, John Duggan Gibbs.
On Saturday morning she was roasting a piece of meat before the grate, for dinner. She heard singing down on the walk under the window. She went to look and saw two young men, one was praying, and she saw a few people had gathered, hearing the hymn. Then one of them began to preach on the first principles of the Gospel. For a time she spent her time between listening at the window and turning the meat. Finally she turned the roast over to grandfather; and she went out of the front door and listened. She was greatly impressed with what they said, and calling to mind what her father had told her, she invited them in to dinner. Leaving them answering questions, she went ahead and broke the news to grandfather, who was greatly provoked. After dinner she invited them to stay all night. At first grandfather refused them shelter, but afterwards consented. Grandmother went to their evening meetings once a week and received a testimony of the Gospel and its divinity.
She was shown in a vision that grandfather's eldest brother and his family would join the church; she tried to persuade him to go with her, but he would have nothing to do with them. He was a proud and very well educated man, a tailor by trade. Grandmother had little or no schooling, but she had strong reasoning powers and could quote much scripture. She visited her bother-in-law, John D. Gibbs, and tried to interest him. At first he could not be persuaded, but as she continued to reason with him he felt a convincing power that surprised him and he was impressed with her growth and development; so he resolved to visit this gathering and was attracted to them. In a short time he applied for baptism, he and his family. The next time grandmother went to meeting she saw him sitting at a table taking minutes just as she had seen him in a vision sometime before. He had been made clerk of the conference. She invited the missionaries to make their headquarters at her home. Much to the discomfort and chagrin of my grandfather. After meeting them and becoming acquainted, he attended meetings and was baptized and was later called to go as a missionary to open the gospel in a small town called Sutten. At their meeting he met a man named George Roberts, a farmer grandmother knew when a small child, and in a vision she received she saw where he would join the church, which he did later on. There was one man in the village who attended meeting every Sabbath afternoon and made a disturbance. He was an enemy to the truth. One Sunday he was there as usual and threw rotten eggs and broke up the gathering. Grandfather had walked seven miles to preside and returning he felt thoroughly discouraged. As he walked along he resolved to report to the mission headquarters recommending that they give it up, for the present at least. When he reached home grandmother persuaded him to try just once more, telling him of seeing Brother Roberts come into the church. From then he went again and again. The man was there and repeatedly did his annoyances. Grandfather again returned more crushed than ever in his feelings. Just then the hedge lit up and a voice spoke out of it saying, "Vengeance is mine in my own due time. I will repay." On the following Wednesday the man took sick with cholera, rolled up, and died in great agony. His body was twisted out of shape. After that a number joined the church, first among them being Brother Roberts. Grandfather was then sent to Pembroke where he opened a branch. He presided at each, alternating one Sunday at one place and the next at the other. He continued to do this until he was later called to preside over the conference known as the Pembrokeshire Conference. He continued that conference were very faithful Saints, all continuing staunch in the faith until death.
My mother was a midwife and continued in that practice form many years. She waited on Auntie and Carrie for several of their children before her death.
In those early days there was but one wash board and tub in the village, both of wood, the board had grooves in it. I saw one of hard wood when I visited Honolulu. When I think of how these pioneers in those small settlements applied themselves, coming to this wide open country, void of anything, to work with, their resourcefulness was amazing. What many of them really accomplished, how established they were following the wise pioneer leader Brigham Young; entering the principle of plural marriage as some did; together with all the handicaps for making a living. Grandfather was sealed to a woman who emigrated later from the port they came from. I remember their integrity to truth and their faithful prayers-- the wisdom and good common sense my grandmother exhibited in her lifetime. I remember her appearance and simple surroundings when Uncle George Gibbs married Lorenzo Snow's daughter and brought her to meet his people. He had been living in President Young's family for about seven years, acting as his private secretary, taking down all his sermons in shorthand. Her children all had a very good education with the exception of my mother who attended school very little.
Her eldest son, Warren Gibbs, was called as a missionary to labor in the Liverpool office. He was there for seven years. Due to overwork and poor living conditions, he died while still a very young man. Her youngest son, John H. Gibbs was an educator for many years, a teacher at Richmond Utah. Many prominent men of Cache Valley received a training under him. Many who later became teachers, doctors, lawyers, and the biggest government engineers of their day, whose ambitions were aroused and encouraged to high education by him. Many became bishops, presidents of stakes, and very respectable citizens. In speaking of him it is only the history of many good teachers who worked with boys of this wilderness and directed them to noble attainments.
Her daughter Emma Gibbs died giving birth to her third child while still a young woman. One daughter married Swendsen and lived in Boise.
Her daughter Fannie Stoddard, Her baby girl living at Richmond celebrated her golden wedding.
Grandmother had not been in good health for some time; grandfather had made the fire one November morning about 1880, and was preparing to go out and feed the stock; she called him to her bedside. It is George's birthday, Father. "Yes, it is honey," he said. She just gripped his hand and then relaxed the hold and was gone. It was a great shock to my mother who lived on the farm one and a half miles away. She mourned deeply that she had not been privileged to do more for her at the end, just to pass on troubling no one. She was always helping the sick herself, going about day and night, quietly and almost unnoticed carrying with her many little conveniences to bless and make easier the suffering of those she waited upon. I slept at her house the night that Grandfather Thomas died. I woke up to hear her say, "Father, wake up you must get up; you are needed to wash and lay out Grandpa Thomas." Oh, have they come for me? Is he dead?" Not yet, "she said, "but they will be here soon; he has just gone and was just here." Grandfather go up coolly and before he was dressed they knocked at the door. I never heard her mention it to anyone. I presumed it was not new to her, but to me it was a miracle. Young as I was she was almost uncanny to me for awhile.
I went to Sunday School every Sunday morning; before we had a buggy I stayed up with grandmother until father came up for meeting. How I remember the good times and the Sunday dinners she cooked. A big fat hen boiled whole with a piece of salt pork, and the pies she made in the earthen baking dish filled with black native currants wit a cup in the center to suck up the juice so none would boil out in the oven; when the cup was raised the dish filled with luscious black juice; how my mouth would water. I was so happy then as now; I began to chatter. Grandfather would stand it for awhile. He was a man of few words. He never talked unless he had something to say, "Hold your tongue and eat your meat." sometimes he would say, "What a tongue you've got; you're never still." I've heard mother say that in the Old Country they stood up to eat. On Sunday they always had a good dinner and more times than one someone would do something that made someone laugh. Then all would start to giggle. Grandfather would tell one after the other to leave the table. Out they would go to their room. Many times they would soon all be up there regretting it and hungry, but the could not help but laugh. When away they felt sober and had only regrets. Sometimes they could hear them downstairs really indulging in a little merriment themselves when not seen by the children. After grandfather was gone grandmother would slip them a pan of pudding, or something, and spoons.
John Gibbs went to the Southern sates as a missionary. I guess you have all heard or read about his tragic death. How he died a martyr, shot through the head by a gun held in the hands of a mob while on his feet bearing his testimony. How Brother B. H. Roberts went stealthily in the night, disguised, and got the body sending it home by Brother Perry and Jones, missionaries of the Southern States. How I remember that procession, met at the depot by a brass band and the slow march at night by lanterns to the little town of Paradise where he was buried. The MIA young men of the stake erected a granite shaft to his memory. When he left for his mission he was escorted by a brass band as far a Logan.
How many the lives that have touched these I have penned. Magnanimous souls that have gone quietly to their rest I am reminded of the truthfulness of that beautiful and true hymn:
When first the glorious light of truth
Burst forth in this last age
How few there were with heart and soul
To obey it and engage.
Yet of those few how many have passed from earth away and in their graves are sleeping till the resurrection.