George Spilsbury and Fannie Smith

The Conversion of Fannie Smith and George Spilsbury

Rather than tell the story of Fannie Smith and George Spilsbury myself, I will use words written by Maybelle Harmon Anderson. She wrote a history of Fannie in a story form as though written by Fannie herself, and titled it "You'll be Sorry--a story of a Christmas Present from God Delivered One Hundred and Twenty-three Years Ago In England". Here are some excerpts from this amazing story:

"'You'll be Sorry.' I can hear it just as clearly today as I did many years ago. The voice was that of my father, Richard Smith. The place was Liverpool England. Would you care to hear a true story about a fair, rather small young English Lady? It began about six thousand miles from here...The year was 1842. 

...My home in England was very comfortable because my father was a well-to-do squire. I was his only child and love was showered upon me. I loved him dearly, too. I was his Christmas present. I arrived on the soil of England...December 25, 1823. As my father cuddled me, his first-born and only child in his arms, he said: 'She is my Christmas present from God.'

As I grew up, our relationship was one of mutual admiration and love. Our household was taken care of by a housekeeper who trained me in the gentle art of beauty, culture and romances, as my mother wished her to do. She taught me sewing and fine embroidery work until I was a young lady. Then events electrifying and undeniable, seemed to take possession of me. 

Some girl friends came over to our house one evening and begged me to go with them to hear some funny men from America preach about a new religion that had started in America.

Now, it was a curious fact that they should ask me to go because I belonged to the Church of England. I was always filled with fear when they talked about Hell, and even our church's idea of Heaven seemed unreal and cold to me. I was truly not happy in my religion.

Well, we all went giggling to hear about the... religion and see the Americans. As the missionaries were Latter-day Saints, they preached of their prophet and the plates he had found in the hill Cumorah telilng of the civilization that existed on the American Continent in ancient times...everything he said seemed real and I was touched to the depths of my being. I believed every word I heard that night. Many nights after that, I sought out the preachers and attended their meeting. I wanted to join them, but knew that my father would never consent. If I joined, it would have to be done in secret.

Therefore, I went to them one night at meeting time and was baptized in a river where the ice had to be broken to perform the baptism. When walking home with my wet clothes freezing about me, my spirit carried me along as if I were a cloud...

Do you know who confirmed me a member of the church...? It was George Spilsbury, one of our own fair, curly-haired, blue-eyed English boys. Later when we became better acquainted, he told me that he was the fourth son of Joseph and Hannah Spilsbury and was born in Leigh, Worcestershire, England, April 21, 1823...

When George was sixteen he had a remarkable experience. He was lying under a large oak tree near his home when a voice declared: 'You shall be a minister of the gospel.' Consequently, he was ready and waiting when he heard Mormonism preached at the home of George Brooks in Leigh Parish. He was baptized and confirmed a Latter-day Saint that same evening, October 11, 1840. The following February he was ordained a priest and in July started on a mission in Wales, from which he returned in the summer of 1842, having baptized seventeen persons. 

I was one of those seventeen. My heart began its song of love as George and I spent more time with each other. We were joined in holy wedlock on the fifth of September, 1842... After our marriage, George went to work as a brick-layer and plasterer. I told my father of joining the church and he almost disowned me. He tried in every way he knew to dissuade me from my religion and husband. He now thought his gift from God was from the other place. He even tried to prevent me from leaving England for America.

He would not allow me to take any of my lovely things. How could my father feel so strongly against something which seemed so right to me? He made my life miserable until I went to work as a milliner. I was resourceful and soon became head milliner and saved the money that I earned to help pay our way to the home of our new religion. 

When we were ready to sail my father was broken hearted and came to me and said: 'Fannie, my daughter, if I cannot change your mind, I can warn you that those Mormons in their wild country are ruthless and will never allow you to write and certainly never allow you to come back to me. I will put this locket and chain around your neck. Send it to me as a sign and I will know that you are sorry, and I will make it possible for you to come home!'

As we sailed away from the shore, my young-girl heart ached and sorrowful tears streamed from my eyes. 'Farewell, my father, my mother, whom I knew such a little while, my native land, farewell!' I never saw them again.

My young-wifehood heart and eyes turned to my husband and together we turned toward the west, our new home and the hardships which we knew were ahead of us. Of course, we never dreamed of the persecution and tragedy we would have to endure as we sailed from Liverpool, England, on that day long ago. Would I be sorry? no, never. I shall have no regrets...

As my eyes start to fade as I near my eightieth birthday in my wheelchair, where I have been for some twelve years...I hold my locket in my hand and I can hear my father say, oh! so long ago: 'Fannie, you'll be sorry!' I wonder why he couldn't have known, as I did, that I was doing the right thing for myself and my children's children. I am glad that we are in America. We hope we have planted well, that our children's children might have the faith that was our choicest possession, and remember the last part of the thirteenth Article of Faith: 'If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.' 

My thoughts turn to things promised in this land of ours and the equal rights of all who come here, and, as my eyes grow dim and close to death this third day of June, 1903, I whisper: I was never sorry! No there are no regrets."

 A Few Accounts from the Journal of George Spilsbury

After arriving in Nauvoo, Fannie and George met the Prophet Joseph Smith. Here is a record in George's journal of this event:

"The question may be asked by some of my grandchildren, 'Did you feel disappointed when you saw him (Joseph) for the first time?' I will tell you. All my troubles and privations of leaving my father and mother, brothers and sisters and my native land seemed nothing compared with the joy I experienced when I first heard and saw him, the prophet Joseph, preach. I felt greatly blessed of the Lord in having such a glorious privilege. The first Sunday after our arrival, we attended a meeting on the first floor of the Nauvoo Temple...We were early in our seats and soon the leading men of the church began to arrive. It was not trouble to tell which was the prophet, not because of his fine clothes, but there was something grand and noble and innocent about this appearance. His very eyes seemed to look right through you. His very countenance beamed with intelligence. He was as bold as a lion, but humble as a child. He knew no fear."

George had a strong love for family, as shown in another journal entry:

"It is my wish that the family of George Spilsbury hold a reunion on my birthday every year and thereby renew our relationship and friendship with each other and not lose track of any of the family. Keep within close touch of each other by reunions and by correspondence. And those living in Old Mexico who can't come to the reunion in Toquerville, have all the family together in Mexico on my birthday, April 21st and at such meetings I want you to read my instructions to the family every year as long as the family are on earth. AND DON'T FORGET IT. I want you to forgive one another, be full of charity towards our own family and others. In case of sickness or accident or loss of property, help each other. If any should stray away from the Church, fast and pray for their return. (Tennant Family History, 54-65)

Appleton Milo Harmon and Elmeda Stringham

Appleton Milo Harmon

Appleton Milo Harmon was born in 1820 in Pennsylvania to Jesse Peirce Harmon and Anna Barnes. His mother Anna was baptized in 1833. The family moved to Kirtland, Ohio in 1837 where his father Jesse, sister Sophronia, and brother Amos were baptized in 1838. They all moved to Illinois and then to Nauvoo, where Appleton was baptized in 1841 by William Smith, one of the Twelve Apostles. Appleton was ordained an Elder in 1842 by William Richards served a mission in New York. Here is an account of his faith written by his grand-daughter, Maybelle Harmon Anderson:

"Baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints when scarcely twenty-one, he made his religion the dominant force of his life. For it, he became a refugee from Nauvoo, a struggling pioneer in the Salt Lake Valley, a rugged crusader in the forbidding cities of England, an indomitable colonizer among the bleak wilds of southern Utah. Faith pervades every page of his journal. It swayed his thoughts, shaped his aspirations, and justified to him all his sacrifices. And what he gave in service came with spontaneous willingness and humility." (Appleton Milo Harmon Goes West, xii)

One account of Appleton's faithful and obedient spirit is when he and some other men were reprimanded by Brigham Young for playing cards and gambling in his tent. In response to the rebuking, Appleton recorded the events of the day, which happened to be his 27th birthday: "On it I received quite a lesson, which I hope will result in much good and profit."

Appleton is well know for making the odometer. He came out with Brigham Young in the first company that left Winter Quarters, although he didn't go all the way to Salt Lake. Instead, he was one of nine men who stayed at the Plat River in Wyoming where there is a tribute to him still to this day at Fort Casper. Coincidentally, one of Steve's ancestors was also one of those nine men!

Elmeda Stringham

The Stringhams were of English descent--early settlers in the New England States. The family lived on a farm in Jamestown, New York when my great-great-great-great grandparents George Stringham and Polly Hendrickson joined the church in 1832. Elmeda Stringham (my great-great-great grandmother) is one of their six children, born in 1829. The Stringhams later moved to Kirtland, Ohio, where Elmeda remembers gathering bits of glass and broken dishes for the building of the Kirtland temple as a young child.

Swen and Thilda Swenson

My great-great Grandfather, Swen Swenson, was born in Kristianstad Sweden in 1850. My great-great Grandmother Bothilda Pehrsson Swenson was born in Kristianstad, Sweden in 1848. They were married in 1873 (the picture above is them on their wedding day).

Swen became a schoolteacher, and my great-grandfather, Helge Vincent Swenson, was born while the family was living in the schoolhouse where Swen worked. Swen lost his teaching position after fifteen years, and the family was forced to find another home. They found a small cottage owned by a widow, who they later found to be a Mormon convert. It was through her that they met the missionaries.

When Mormon elders came to the Swenson's, they found them able to comprehend the glorious principles of the Gospel. The family treated the missionaries well whenever they came to their home. Here is an account written by Helge about the conversion of his mother:

"I still remember when the Mormon missionaries came to our home. Father seemed a little interested in their teaching, but mother was hesitant until one time when they came back to talk to father she went outside, and kneeling behind a lilac bush, she prayed that she might now if their message was from God. After that she never faltered but remained faithful and true to the gospel all her life."

In June of 1892, Swen and Thilda were baptized in a small lake near their home. The next evening three others were baptized, including my great-grandfather, Helge Swenson. Here is a brief record written by Helge of his own conversion:

"Father and Mother and my oldest sister had been baptized at the same place the night before. This night my brothers Orson and Dan and my sister Ada were going to be baptized, Father thought I was too young to understand the importance of such an sacred ordinance. As they were ready to leave, I said to one of the missionaries, 'If one is 8 years old and has faith, is one then not old enough to be baptized?' Brother Olof Monson the senior missionary said, 'You certainly are both old enough and ready for baptism', so mother had to go back into the house to find some clothes for me. (Swenson, 84-85)

Over the next two-and-a-half years, each member of the family (except for Swen, who went on a mission for the church), traveled to Utah and settled in Pleasant Grove. They made great sacrifices to earn money for the trip, including selling furniture, borrowing money, and selling Thilda's gold watch and earrings. (My Life and Loves, by Calvin Helge Swenson, pg. 5-8)

Fredrick Walter Cox and Jemima Losee

Fredrick Walter Cox was my great-great-great grandfather,  born in New York in 1812. He joined the Church while living in Ohio and was baptized by Thomas B. Marsh in 1838. After his conversion, Fredrick traveled to Far West, Missouri. From there he was driven to Lima Illinois, and then to Nauvoo after his home and property were burned by a mob.

Jemima Losee was my great-great-great grandmother, born in Canada in 1823. She grew up a Quaker, but was never satisfied with this religion. When she was 17 years old, she listened to a Mormon sermon for the first time, delivered by Elder Henry Lamnoreau. He baptized her parents David Losee and Lydia Huff. Three months later, Jemima was baptized by Elder George Johnson.

The next winter, Jemima left with her parents for Nauvoo. They arrived in 1841, weary and destitute. Shortly after they arrived in Nauvoo, everyone in the family but Jemima came down with with chills and a fever. This was a difficult trial for her, but she escaped the illness while nursing the rest of her family, and without any complaint.

Jemima learned privately of the revelation on plural marriage. At first she looked upon it with such antagonism that "she wished with all her heart she could die". She was a thorough believer in Mormonism, however, and it came to her gradually that this principle also was from God. She accepted it as such a thorough principle that she privately married Fredrick Walter Cox in 1844 as his second wife. She didn't even tell her mother about her marriage for nearly a year, and although she experienced trials and sorrows, never for one moment did she regret this step, nor doubt the principles of plural marriage.

After spending a year in Iowa, Fredrick was arrested and tried for practicing plural marriage. He was required to have only one wife or to leave the county. His response was "I will never desert these girls, so help me God!"

Fredrick was still preparing wagons to move west, so he had to find a place to move Jemima and another wife, Cordelia, and their five babies to keep the peace while he finished his work. He tried in vain to find a suitable home for his beloved wives. The only shelter he could find was a stable about 25 miles away. The room was about fifteen square feet with no place for a fire and no window for light. "Oh the misery of that home, and yet it became a hollowed place."

Fredrick made them as comfortable as he could and then left them alone in the care of "One who knows when a sparrow falls." God did not forsake them. Three documented miracles are evidence of this:

1. One night a mob came to burn down their home, but then left them unharmed after having a quarrel among themselves.
2. The stable was located on the road of the California gold seekers, so Jemima and Cordelia often did laundry for these men. One time a man demanded a gold piece he had left in his shirt, which they had not seen. They were afraid and Jemima went out to look with a prayer in her heart for help to find the gold. Jemima found it on the ground and thanked God for this miracle. 
3. After six weeks of living in the stable, Jemima was ready to deliver a baby. "She had no one to go to but her God who rules the destiny of all. The dreaded night came on February 29th, with no help and no chance of obtaining it. In the evening while Jemima and Cordelia were wondering what to do, someone knocked on the door. Cordelia opened it and a woman walked in. She asked how they were doing and and if she could do anything to help. 'Surely this was a Ministering Angel!' Who had sent her this cold winter night? And why, at this hour, so unexpected? She was a perfect stranger. They discovered she was a nurse and immediately gave her something to do. Before midnight, a baby girl was born. After performing her task and seeing that all was well, this woman departed as suddenly as she had come. They had never seen her before, and have never seen her since." Their prayers had been heard and answered.

Jemima and Cordelia were well cared for and protected from harm. Eventually they began the journey west with Fredrick. After a difficult journey that brought death to many, the Cox family arrived in Manti. Here Fredrick died in a logging accident in 1879, and Jemima died a "beautiful death" 22 years later at the age of 78. (Tennant Family History: 11-22)

Margaret Stenhouse

Margaret Stenhouse is my great-great-great grandmother, born in Scotland in 1824. Margaret married my great-great-great grandfather, Charles Tennant, Sr. when she was 25 years old and he was 32. Six years later, Charles, Sr. died of a sudden fever with chills. Margaret gave birth to twin girls only three months later, one of which died at 14 months. Margaret was now a widow with four surviving children (two of the six had died).

The story handed down says that Margaret took in boarders. One of the boarders was John Grier, who she married in 1859. John Grier was also born in Scotland and was baptized when he was nine years old. He was the one who brought the gospel to the Tennant family.

Margaret and John brought Charles Tennant, Jr.--my great-great grandfather--from Scotland to Salt Lake City along with three siblings. They lived in Manti (where Margaret died), and later Touquerville where they helped build up the area, including the building of the Manti and St. George Temples.
(Tennant Family History: 3, 4, 346)

Charles Peter Warnick and Christine Marie Larsen

The story of a faithful hero from a Sweden and a faithful heroine from Denmark who met in Pleasant Grove, UT and were married. Charles Peter Warnick and Christine Marie Larsen.

Christine Marie Larsen

Christine lived in Denmark as the youngest of three siblings. When she was about six years old, the Mormon Elders came into the area. Her parents, Lars Christen Larsen and Maren Bertelsen, soon became interested in their message. Their plans for the future changed as Lars and Maren were baptized in June 1860. Christine was not old enough to be baptized with the rest of the family, but she was blessed by the Elders and her name was entered on the records with her parents.

The family soon gained a desire to go to Zion. Lars worked as hard as he could prepare for this long journey by spinning and weaving and making clothing. In the spring of 1863 they were ready to start, leaving behind those things that had been their life's ambitions, their new faith and hope prompting them on to face new fields and to strive for new goals.

They were at sea for eight weeks before traveling across the plains to Utah where they spent their first winter in Draper, UT before moving to Pleasant Grove (Warnick Family History, Volume 1 pg. 250).

Charles (Carl) Peter Warnick

Charles, or Carl as he was called, was the youngest of seven children living in Sweden. His father, Anders Petter Warnicke, worked as a sharecropper (almost equivalent to being the work of a slave) and the family lived in a one room house. His mother was Anna Helena Andersson.

Carl was attending a service in the Swedish Lutheran Church, where children weren't taken to church very often. On the ceiling of the small chapel was a painting of the devil in a red costume with horns and tail, pushing back with a pitch fork the poor unfortunate people. This painting made such a vivid impression on Carl's sensitive mind that it haunted him by night and worried him by day. He thought he was just an ordinary boy and could never be good enough to go to heaven so, of course, he would have to go to this burning lake.

One Sunday an aunt came to visit. She was so interested in a new religion which she had heard about from two men from Utah. One thing that caught the attention of the ten year old Charles was that these Mormons, as they were called, didn't believe in the lake of fire and brimstone. After hearing this he listened eagerly to the discussion of the older members. He was ready right then to join a church that didn't believe in that terrible picture. Of course, he couldn't understand all of the principles of the gospel at that age but even after many years of study and experience, he never doubted that he had embraced the only true Church of Jesus Christ.

The priest in that little Swedish village was very antagonistic to the Mormon religion and encouraged the people to make life unpleasant for anyone who joined it. After a few years of hardship, 11 members of the family set sail (the oldest son stayed to complete a mission in Sweden, and the oldest daughter also remained in Sweden for a time). The following account of their journey comes from "Life Sketch of Anders Petter Warnick and Anna Helena Andserson Warnick written by Effie Warnick Adams"

They arrived in New York, July 31st, 1866  in Staten Island. Cholera had broken out among the passengers while on the ship. The supply of water had been very limited, and they were allowed only one quart of putrid liquid per family each day. Other rations were likewise limited and poor in quality. Carl, only 16 years old at the time, had been so ill that his mother worried he wouldn't be allowed to land. His sickness was evident in the fact that he had lost all of his hair.

The route they had been informed they would take needed to be changed. The railroad companies, whose lines went out from New York, took advantage of the "Mormons" and asked an unusually high price to take them west. Elder Thomas Taylor, who arranged their travel, was able to close a satisfactory contract by a new route that would be several hundred miles longer, but much cheaper. One drawback to this plan was that the saints would have to ride across the country in cattle and freight cars.

The saints then traveled to Connecticut on a large freight steamer. From there they went by train through Connecticut, Massachusetts, and vermont to Montreal, Canada. Here they boarded the uncomfortable and dirty freight and cattle cars to travel through Canada before they were ferried to Michigan.

During their travel, many of the immigrants developed cholera and died. The cattle cars were kept clean as much as possible so that the sick could lay on the floor and rest, being too ill to raise their heads. The roughness of the ride added to the discomfort and the journey became almost unendurable.


Anna Helena (Carl's mother) was one who was suffering greatly. She endured three days of the terrible ride across Canada, but on the third day she passed away. According to a record by Carl, she was left dead on the station platform on August 5, 1866. This was most likely in Marcella, Michigan.


Many other members of the family also suffered intensely. For five more days they endured the agony of the bumps, and the discomfort of their condition. They traveled across Illinois, the Mississippi River, and through hostile Missouri. Just before the train reached St. Joseph, Missouri, one of the cars caught on fire where the sick were removed to escape the fire. Some of the sick and dying had to be left on the platform of the depot, including Anders Peter Warnick and his daughter Anna Christina. "Death had not completely claimed them, and loved ones obtained no further knowledge of their fate."


Here is a record of Carl's feelings, written later in his life sketch: "When I look back and think of that awful scene, I wonder how we could do it and I can only think that we saw so much suffering and death, that our sense of feeling and sympathy must have been paralyzed. We thought that we were all doomed and nothing mattered--the sooner the better."

We do not know where Anna Helena or Anders Peter were buried. "We have none of their earthly possessions to tie us to them, but the tie we have is stronger than any material thing. It is the bond of appreciation, love and respect, which fills our souls when we contemplate our debt to them." Because of them, we have our "precious, dearly bought heritage. Because of their courage, we live at liberty, in a place of beauty and bounty." We have the Gospel of Jesus Christ.