ANDERSEN, Laust Anders

1817 - 1881  (63 years)  Submit Photo / Document

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• Name	ANDERSEN, Laust Anders
  Birth	13 Jun 1817	Gammelstrup, Viborg, Denmark
  Christening	15 Jun 1817	Stora Mellösa, Örebro, Sweden
  Gender	Male
  WAC	14 Nov 1862
  _TAG	Reviewed on FS
  Death	26 Jan 1881	Ephraim, Sanpete, Utah, United States
  Burial	29 Jan 1882	Ephraim, Sanpete, Utah, United States
  Headstones	Submit Headstone Photo
  Person ID	I21112	Joseph Smith Sr and Lucy Mack Smith
  Last Modified	19 Aug 2021

  
  

  Father	JENSEN, Anders ,   b. 30 Jan 1785, Gammelstrup, Viborg, Denmark Gammelstrup, Viborg, Denmarkd. 8 Jan 1839, Højslev, Viborg, Denmark (Age 53 years)
  Mother	LAURITSDATTER, Anne Cathrine ,   b. 26 Feb 1779, Feldingbjerg, Viborg, Denmark Feldingbjerg, Viborg, Denmarkd. 12 Dec 1779, Feldingbjerg, Viborg, Denmark (Age 0 years)
  Marriage	15 Oct 1807	Daugberg, Viborg, Denmark
  Notes	MARRIAGE: Also shown as Married 15 Oct 1817 ~SEALING_SPOUSE: Also shown as SealSp 5 Mar 1896, MANTI.
  Family ID	F11224	Group Sheet  |  Family Chart

  
  

  Family	PEDERSDATTER, Maren ,   b. 19 Nov 1819, Fly, Viborg, Denmark Fly, Viborg, Denmarkd. 22 Apr 1889, Ephraim, Sanpete, Utah, United States (Age 69 years)
  Marriage	1842	Salt Lake City, Salt Lake, Utah, United States
  Family ID	F11454	Group Sheet  |  Family Chart
  Last Modified	24 Jan 2022

  
  

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• Notes

  Anderson, Peter, farmer, son of Lars and Mary, was born in Denmark, November 16, 1844. The family joined the Mormon church and emigrated, crossing the plains in Canute Peterson’s train, and located in Ephraim in September, 1856, where parents died. Peter took part in the Black Hawk war, being in the Salina canyon and Circle Valley engagements. In’63 he went to the Missouri river after emigrants. In ’85 went on a two years’ mission to Denmark, during the last three months of the time serving as president over Rander’s branch. He owns seventy-five acres of land and residence. Was married in Ephraim, April 25, 1865, to Elsie M., daughter of Lars and Karen Paulsen, born in Denmark, October 18, 1847. They have nine children, Peter C., Louis, Hyrum, Alice M., Caroline I., Mary S., Joseph F., Seymour G., and Ida E. From p. 298 of History of Sanpete and Emery Counties, Utah **************************************************************************************** The following is a narrative portraying one of Patrea's experiences as she crossed the plains: It was a beautiful, warm, sunny morning--one of the first since the cold, snowy winter—and now Spring was waking everywhere. Patrea was singing, both inside and out, as she skipped along the wagon trail and shared the feel of freedom that the birds must have felt as they winged and darted about her, chirping and scolding and pouring out song. Forgotten was the sadness of leaving her home and friends in far away Denmark and of the voyage that had seemed forever across the stormy Atlantic. Only a dream was the comfortable house which had been sold so that her family and also some of their friends and neighbors would have enough money to come to America and build other homes in the new country. Also, here they could live their new religion as Latter-day Saints, with member who had come before them. Because of the bad weather, crossing the ocean had taken many unplanned weeks and Patrea had been one of the few children to survive the pestilence and near starvation that engulfed the ship. Her mother had taken care to pack a large chest with extra food such as cheeses and sausages and, although she shared it with as many as possible, there was not enough for everyone. During those twelve weeks of sailing, forty children and some adults (including her own grandmother) had been buried in the sea. Forgotten, too, was the train ride, which had taken them by a very roundabout way, to join the company of saints with which they were to travel across the plains. Because of these delays, Patrea’s baby sister was born on the train. The conductor was not going to allow her mother to leave the train. He said that she would die if he let her go. Nothing, however, could keep her from going with her family and the rest of the Saints. Since her feet and legs were too swollen to wear shoes, the men put their big woolen socks on here and wrapped her feet in socks and newspapers so that she could trudge through the snow to the place where wagons were waiting for them. It had been hard to travel in the snow and cold. Only those who were ill or were very old could ride in the wagons, and Patrea had to walk. She could not bear leave all of her treasures behind, so in one hand she carried her doll and in the other her own little frying pan, since there was no room for anything but the barest necessities in the wagons. As the days grew warmer and the fragrant flowers began to bloom along the road, Patrea looked forward to getting up early each morning and beginning to walk with her father before the wagons were ready to leave. He ad been ill and needed to rest along the way, so he would leave sooner in order to keep ahead of the others. Patreas was nine years old. She would run before him along the trail and play with her doll or fill her little pan with pretty flowers. One day, while her father sat down to rest, she ran quite far ahead of him. As the road curved around a small hill, she could no longer see him but knew that he would be coming soon, and the wagons were moving not too far behind. So she ran on, trying to catch a little squirrel that had scampered out of the bushes. Suddenly, there were two trails. Since they both looked alike, she followed the squirrel. This trail really looked better than the other. It must surely be the right one. It would between some low hills covered with a few bushes and a tree or two. The squirrel stopped to look at her and, when she almost had caught up with him, he turned and ran again. Now Patrea stopped to rest. She would sit down and wait for her father. She waited a long time. Where was he? And where were the wagons? She was getting very hungry. She looked up at the sky above her. The sun had already passed the middle. That was it! They had all stopped to eat lunch! Soon they would be coming. The sun was very hot. She would run to that tree farther up the trail and wait unter its shade for them to catch up with her. This wasn’t a very good road. It seemed to be getting narrower and hard to follow. By the time she reached the tree, the road had almost disappeared. Surely no wagons had come through here. Suddenly she felt icy cold and her heart began to beat wildly. She was lost! What was it he had heard about Indians? Could this be an Indian trail? The wagons must have gone the other way. That was the reason it was so quiet and they had not come. Now Patrea felt panic. Had they missed her? She had come a long way and already the sun was moving rapidly westward. Would she be able to run that long distance back and find the other trail before they were out of sight? Suppose some Indians found her and carried her away with them and on one ever knew what had happened to her. She ran faster, but the road kept winding through the hills. Maybe if she could climb to the top of a hill she could see the wagons. The perspiration trickled down her hot little face as she struggled up the steep slope, [then it was] followed by a sharp chill as sh reached the top and looked out over the valley. Far across a wide stretch of plains she could see the last of the wagons disappearing over the next rise of low hills. Frightened and trembling, little Patrea tumbled and slid back down to the road. With tears and dirt running down her cheeks, she ran—sometimes tripping and falling—until she at last reached the fork in the road where she had made the wrong turn. Eagerly she looked across to the distant hills, but now there was no sign of wagons, nor oxen, nor life of any kind. She was all alone. Could she ever reach them before the night became too dark to follow the trail, or would she fall and be hurt or maybe harmed by some wild animal? She walked and ran endlessly until finally—exhausted and now hopeless—she dropped into a little heap and sobbed. Over the hills, the company had found a small stream where the animals could be watered and a camp made for the night. Soon Patrea’s mother and father missed her. Her father thought that she had run on ahead of the wagons while he rested and dozed a little. And her mother thought, too, that since she start out early she had been just ahead of them all day. As a quick search revealed that no one remembered seeing her since early morning, terror seized them and several young fellows jumped onto horses and raced back over the plains. As she lay beside the road, praying and shaking with fright, Patrea thought she could detect some thumping sounds far away. She held her breath and listened. They seemed to be coming closer. She jumped up, looking for a place to hide. Could the Indians be coming now? She looked down the road and saw a cloud of dust moving toward her. As she was about to reun, she heard something. She listened again, and this time was sure that someone was calling her name. Now she could see the horses with men on them, and—frantically—she ran toward them. In a moment, she was swept off her feet and lifted onto one of the horses where loving arms held her tightly. Patrea knew that someone had washed the dirt from her tear-stained face and was coaxing her to take a few swallows of warm soup. But, hungry as she was, she was too tired even to eat, and fell asleep in her mother’s arms, with her precious doll still clutched in one hand and her little frying pan in the other. The following was a hand written letter sent to Christine Poulson, age 8, from her grandfather, James C. Andersen. It is about his grand father, Lars Andersen, and was used in a Sunday School talk given by Christine. The letter is still in Christine's possession. Mesa, Arizona Jan. 20 1960 Dear Christine, I just received your welcome letter and hasten to answer so you will get it in time. Both my father and grandfather were born in Denmark. Your great-great-grandfather [Lars Anders Andersen] when a boy in Denmark one day took his girl friend out to the beach. He was acting smart with her around a gypsy fortune teller asking her to tell his fortune that he was going to marry this girl friend. The fortune teller told him not to act so smart, that he would never marry this girl, but someone else and go with her and their family away across the sea and then a long way on land to many mountains. He laughed and made fun of her, but married my grandmother, had a family of six and became a successful whisky merchant. They always had whisky on the table until they heard the missionaries and were converted to the church. He then sold his whisky business and brought his family to Utah and settled in Ephraim. (The Gospel changes people’s lives for the better.) After they had been there some time the Bishop asked him (Lars Andersen) to take his team of mules and wagon and go to Salt Lake to bring an immigrant family to Ephraim. When he was getting ready one mule died so he hitched up an ox with the mule. When he got to Salt Lake it was an English family [named Williams] he was to take, Kenneth and Ariel’s grandfather. He couldn’t understand English and they couldn’t understand Danish. However others who could talk both languages helped them get on their way. At the first camp on the way they found they had the “gift of tongues” and could understand each other. They got along fine till they came to Salem Springs (near Payson). They camped here and the ox got into some quicksand at night and died. Grandfather then put a “stay chain” on the mule, walked and led the mule, and held up one side of the neck yoke while the mule pulled the wagon the rest of the way home (about 100 miles). As soon as they got home they couldn’t understand each other anymore. Grandpa [James Christian Andersen]