Cecilia Etta Brown, daughter of Charles David Brown and Sarah Ellen Dixon Brown, was born May 2, 1880, at Ogden, Utah.

Her mother, Sarah Ellen Dixon, daughter of William Wilkinson Dixon and Sabra Lake, was born October 11, 1861, at Harrisville, Utah. Sarah Ellen married Charles David Brown, son of  Captain James Brown and Cecelia Henrietta Cornue Robellez Brown, on June 26, 1879, at Salt Lake City, Utah. Sarah Ellen died January 23, 1924, at Ogden, Utah. Charles David died January 25, 1926, at Ogden, Utah.

Cecilia married LeRoy Eugene Cowles, son of William Henry Cowles and Sarepta Judkins Cowles, on March 3, 1904, at Salt Lake City, Utah. Cecilia Etta died September 21, 1982. LeRoy Eugene died January 5, 1957, at Orem, Utah.

LIFE SKETCH OF CECILIA ETTA BROWN COWLES 11A-1B

Cecilia Etta Brown was born in Ogden City. Her father was Charles David Brown. Her grandmother was Cecilia Henrietta Cornue Robellez, a widow from Luzanne and Neuchatel, Switzerland. Her father was the 34th child of Captain James Brown, a Captain of the Mormon Battalion and Custom Officer on the Mississippi River..

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When my baby brother was a year old, we came back to Utah and lived in Harrisville, Utah, in our grandmother's home. Mother was ill and broken in spirit. She was a sad old lady at twenty-six, never was well for the rest of her life and died at sixty-one after a long illness.

We lived in Harrisville for 13 years in a very poor little three-room house for the six of us. We had no water (carried all from across the street), no bathroom, no clothes closets, no lights and a long way to school.

My Father was not religious and very, very strict. "Children should be seen and not heard." We never could make one bit of noise when he was at home. We took our shoes off out-of-doors if we came home after 8 p.m. This was for all of our life at home. We had no fun and no company and no parties. I was twenty-one when I started to teach school. The family moved to Ogden and lived in an ugly old rented house. We were married from an inconvenient house which my Father bought close to downtown Ogden. It had too many stairs and too many steps.

When we were married, Roy [LeRoy Eugene Cowles] and I went to Heber City. We both taught school and saved our money to buy a home to put our baby in. Roy taught at Weber Academy and then we went to Chicago to the University. He graduated three times and then went to California and received a Ph.D. degree in 1926.

In 1904 Roy and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple. Each was twenty-four years old. We have had a very busy, happy life together. Many years we were very poor; but by pooling our energies and time, the latter part of our life was easy and profitable.

We had five children, four boys and one girl. They are all college graduates and are doing very well financially and professionally.

Roy and I paid college tuition for thirty-seven years and sometimes two at a time at the University. I graduated, too, when I was forty-six years old. We had a happy life together.

A College Student's Wife by Cecilia Etta Brown Cowles 11A-1B

We were sweethearts for fourteen years; and when we had arrived to the stage of teacherhood, we were married. Our beginning was very humble. As I had been teaching for three years, I was able to secure a good trousseau; but my sweetheart had been teaching only six months and, after paying the balance of his normal school course, there was not much left. He borrowed $50 to be married on when we thought that we were old enough to try our fate. The $50 paid for the license, the train fare, the rent on a two-room house, and the first list of groceries. He was working for $65 per month on an eight months' contract.

When the eight months were up, we were stranded. What were we going to live on until the fall term of school opened? We had never paid grocery bills before, nor rent, nor fuel. It was April and nothing to live on. As love was too thin a diet, we stored our belongings and went home. Strange to say, home was not the same as it used to be. Visiting around with relatives did not appeal to our feelings. We wanted to be alone and enjoy housekeeping and each other, but we could not. Except for a brief happy camping trip in Yellowstone Park, we were discontented all summer.

We managed to wiggle through until fall. My husband did farm work, sold books, and worked in a sugar factory. We did not know whether we were happy or not. Just before school opened in the fall, one of the teachers resigned. took her place and continued all year. This was a very happy winter. We taught school, corrected papers, and washed dishes together. It was much fun. The thermometer went to 35° below zero, but our spirits were not chilled. Our breakfasts were well-earned, after thawing out bread, milk, bacon and fruit.

At the Teacher's Institute at Christmastime, Professor R. R. Lyman from the University gave a very inspiring address on higher education. He said there was plenty of room at the top and that there were not enough qualified men for the big positions. He set us to thinking. What were we going to do for a living? How were we going to bridge over the long summers? That night, in our little rented kitchen, while washing dishes, we decided that he must have a college education.

The spirit of enthusiasm nearly died away in the next two years. Our expenses were very high and our income low. Our first boy, a delicate little fellow, came during this period. Our cares and worries were many, but we never entirely lost our purpose. We believed in the old sayings, "Where there is a will, there is a way" and "You can be anything that you will to be." We did not know anything about psychological tests and never dreamed that failure might come through lack of brains. Our only problem was how could we finance such an undertaking. Our families on both sides were very poor. Such a venture seemed a fool hardy undertaking and not more feasible than a daydream. We were "green" and had never seen much of the world so that we did not know what an undertaking we were planning. We did not plan on going to the state university, for that would take a longer period of time; and then we thought that we might get discouraged in living so poor, near home. We planned to enter what we thought was one of the largest and best universities in the United States, the University of Chicago, but we had not decided when to go.

Another college man, Professor Henry Peterson, came to our home for dinner. He revived our determination to go. It was fall; we decided to go in the spring, come what may. Our biggest problem was where to get enough money to start on. I taught school again for a whole year, and this helped greatly. Spring came and we decided to go for the summer school and stay the year around until he was through. We sold our equity in a little home and our few household belongings. Our baby then was nearly two and beginning to talk. At every piece of furniture that went out of the house, he cried as if his little heart would break; and when a velour couch that was a wedding present from my Mother went to a neighbor, he climbed on it and tried to hold it and cried and cried. This was very touching, but we had decided to go.

We were blessed with strong willpower. Whatever finished no matter how hard. It is easier to plan than found out later.

We had many new experiences before the real work began. We had our first ride in a Pullman car. We were very proud as we climbed in with a lunch basket, suitcase, and a baby.

Just think of a lunch basket and a baby in a Pullman car and a big black porter looking on. Every crumb of cookie or bread, brought the broom and the dust pan. Of course, we were made to think that we were considered low and dirty. The silk gowned ladies and the fat overfed men gave us black looks. I never want a baby in a Pullman car again.

When we arrived at big, dirty, noisy Chicago, we were frightened of every man and of every woman. We thought they were after our money. (We had a little sewed to our underwear).   I would not even trust the porter to wheel my suitcase in the handcart at the depot. After an interview with a policeman we held on to a strap in a crowded street car and rode miles and miles, only to change cars again and again. We passed more miles of business houses than we had ever seen and then came to tall stone front mansions.   (They looked so to me.) We found the address and climbed up three flights of carpeted stairs to a one-room apartment. We looked out the window upon a dark court. We were living on the fourth shelf of a big flat building in Chicago.

Our pleasures were many, although it was hard to adjust our living customs to those of a large city. We visited the museums, libraries, and the Midway Plaisance. We ate our dinners frequently out in Jackson Park on the shores of Lake Michigan.

Being green and unsophisticated, we made many mistakes. In the early fall a big reception was given in one of the large buildings; all the freshmen students were invited. We were very much excited, for meeting college students was new to us; and we were anxious to get acquainted. We went quite early and pushed our little $2 go-cart into the hall. Of course, the wheels made an imprint on the beautiful red plush carpet. We were rushed out of there with very forceful language by a Negro porter. We were so abashed, we did not return, so that was our first public venture into a college gathering.

The first year passed slowly. We saw and heard many wonderful things. It was hard to economize enough and to make our allowance hold out. We sometimes went hungry, for our 15 cents worth of steak and one loaf of baker's bread did not satisfy the day's appetite for the three of us.

We had been poor before but not like this. I never saw such stingy tradesmen in my life. Not a lettuce leaf nor half a peach escaped them.

My husband worked part time in a chemical laboratory to pay for his tuition, thinking this would help, but it only wasted his strength for the long hard months ahead.

The sacrifice was harder than we had planned, and we made many mistakes. The hardest part was for me, and this is where we made the most serious mistake. I had given up everything--home, relatives, loved ones, clothes, and a good teaching position--to go to college with my husband. The days and weeks were ages long. I just killed time waiting for him to get through school so we could begin to live. We were poor, desperately poor. I could not leave the baby to go to work, so I just eked out a miserable existence. It would have been easier if I could have done a little college work or taught school. I would have had a better opinion of myself. We could have lived a little easier, and I would have been a better companion to my husband; but I am not sorry now that I went through the sacrifice. If I had my life to live over, I would go through it again.

The second year was a little easier. We sent home and borrowed some money from a friend and from our church. We adjusted ourselves to living conditions and fairly enjoyed the winter. We met many fine students, some of whom have been our best friends since returning home.

After attending school continually for two years and three months, my husband was graduated. We returned home, and he began teaching at a salary of $1,325 in our town high school where we had both graduated. We felt that we were really paid for our hard struggle. During that winter, we built a little four-room bungalow, with a clean white bathroom and a pretty sun-lit bedroom and kitchen. We bought some new furniture prettier and better than we had before we left home. I was proud of my round dining table, princess dresser, and a new velvet rug.

We were thankful to know we had accomplished what we had striven for; we had been successful.

There have been several years of pleasant college and university life since then. It is very much easier to be a "Professor student's wife" than a >second trip to Chicago was greatly enjoyed. We were gone only for the summer and had a very good time. We had saved enough money to pay all of our expenses so we had sun-lit rooms, a sleeping porch and a private bathroom. graduate student received more consideration than an undergraduate. My husband could enjoy the libraries and have many private consultations with the Professors and the Dean. Social functions were more often indulged in. We both could attend school and everything looked brighter. The world has different color when you feel you are a success. We were accustomed to the living conditions and enjoyed every minute of our stay in Chicago. The boat rides on Lake Michigan, the walks in those beautiful parks, auto rides with rich friends, and the delightfully cool nights on the lawns in the parks were appreciated; and at the close of the summer when my husband received another degree, we were indeed happy.

Later we went to California for a year. It was the seventh year of teaching in a state university. They give a leave of absence with half pay for the sabbatical year; we spent ours at the University of California. It was indeed a glorious year. We attended college lectures and entertainments together and had the same point of view about our life work. We enjoyed every moment of our stay in Berkeley. We had our automobile and drove all around the country, enjoying the new sights and the beautiful views, which the boulevards afford. We explored the Berkeley Hills and enjoyed to the full the Sky Line Boulevard and the Tunnel Drive.

We rode on the ferry across to San Francisco time and time again. One of my greatest pleasures was boat riding, so I never tired of the ferry boat. We visited Chinatown in San Francisco where we saw the "upper class" Chinese people and admired them very much. We had seen only the lower working Chinese men before.

We rode on a little tram car to the top of Mount Tamalpais from which place we secured a bird's eye view of the entire Golden Gate region.

The Pacific Ocean from this point is inspiring; one feels like stretching one's wings and soaring away into space. The city of San Francisco and the small bay cities appeared to us as if we were seeing them from an airplane. The church steeples and the roofs of the high houses presented a new view for us. The green and yellow hills rising from the deep blue made an entrancing picture.

The campus itself at Berkeley is a never-ending scene of delight. The stately white building, fringed round with red geraniums, or half hidden in vines and shrubbery, invite one to enter and study. The meandaring paths with frequent benches accommodate one's dreamy moods. The grand old oak trees, some of them old even when the Spanish father's explored their shades, stand as emblems of strength and fortitude. We took time to enjoy these things; we were not in such poverty, nor in such feverish haste to "get through" as when we were in Chicago.

When our year of study was ended, we toured Southern California by automobile. We were four weeks from the time we left Berkeley until we reached home. On the coast route, for miles and miles, we skirted the ocean and at night were lulled by the dull booming of the surf.

We picked real oranges from real trees, to say nothing of lemons, figs, and almonds. On the way home we sidetracked long enough to see the world famed Bryce Canyon and Zion's National Park.

Our California experience and our homecoming was quite a contrast to our first Chicago trip and our return from there.

Now if some young girl should ask me whether or not she should marry college man before he is graduated, I should say from my experience, "That all

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depends." If he is ambitious and a good student, I should say, "Yes." But if he is inclined to be lazy, or just sentimental, without getting down to the ive grind, I should say, "No."

Why should a young man endure all of his long hard struggle alone, while the young woman is enjoying all the pleasures of home, waiting for him to finish so he can secure for her the luxuries she desires?

was undertaken was to carry it out we