1857-03-30-Escort
Autobiography of Henry Frederick McCune
McCune, Henry Frederick. Autobiography and diaries (Ms 2267-CHL) 1-2, vol. 1, pp. 5-9,13
On the 28th day of March, 1857, we arrived in New York, 108 days from pilot to pilot. My father rented a house in Williamsburgh, now Brooklyn, #75 Grand Street, and we moved into it on a Saturday evening. He had also hired a servant girl, Irish, and redheaded. Sunday morning came and with it the first trial of my young life. You must [p.6] know that I was raised an Aristocrat, my beloved parents were before me, but they in their wisdom, were doing their utmost to overcome their false pride and desired that their children should follow their example, but it was born and bred in us. For instance, on this particular Sunday morning, father called me early, and requested me to go down into the kitchen, and start a fire in the stove which I eagerly started to do, as there appeared to be some fun in it, and besides that there would be no one to wit me, and touch my dignity. I got to the stove, and old fashion step stove, I found two doors in the thing, one opened into a very small place, which I afterwards learned was the fire box. I thought that was entirely too small a space to make a fire in, so I choose the larger one, the oven, and filled it as full as it would hold with paper and kindling, and set afire. You can imagine the result, my father came rushing downstairs in his nightie, "Harry, what ever is the matter." I couldn't answer for coughing and sneezing. Father was no wiser than his son, who though he knew it all. Finally the servant arrived on the scene, and when she saw what was the matter, she rushed to the door, and laughed and screamed, which made me very angry and I scolded her for her impudence, which made her laugh the more, and I began to realize that I was in the free land of America, where Jack is as good as his master. Next, father handed me two buckets, and told me to go [p.7] across the street to the pump and bring two buckets of water, for the first time in my short life, I refused to obey my father. He did not get angry, but reasoned with me, but to no purpose, finally he picked up the pails and started to go out. Oh, how dreadful I felt, to see my aristocratic father demeaning himself. So I watched him as he walked deliberately, to the pump, where a dozen or more servant girls were waiting their turn, what do you suppose that dear aristocrat, my father did? He went to work, and pumped water for all those girls, and they giggling and snickering, all the time he was pumping. It made me so mad to think that my father would so disgrace himself by pumping for those servants, but he finished his task and filled his own two pails and brought them to the house brimming full. The girl soon emptied them, and father said, "Now my boy, you try it." Well I couldn't refuse, after seeing him do it, so I very reluctantly picked up the pails and ran across the street to the pump waited until some girls had filled their vessels, then I pumped vigorously, and filled the buckets full, and carried them on the run to the house, and when I set them down they were only half full. I had spilled half of each pail in my rush, but thank the Lord, in due time, I got over such foolishness.
Apostle John Taylor was in New York publishing "The Mormon," and was very kind to us, and the Church Meetings were held in Brooks Assembly Hall, I have forgotten the [p.8] the [SIC] name of the street, on the occasion of a sociable, given by the Saints, in this hall. Us boys saw for the first time in our lives snow. During the party a light snow had fallen, and my younger brothers thought it was sugar and shouted in Hindoostanee, Dako cheyney hai, (look it is sugar) and grabbed a handful each, but their joy soon turned to grief as the cold snow nipped their fingers. We left New York about the first week in May for Iowa City, the outfitting point.
