Margaret Lloyd-Jones Evans Jones

January 13, 1895 - January 11, 1914

This picture of Margaret, seated quietly amidst her siblings, shows a woman already marked by widowhood. More sadness was on the near horizon. Her two sons, young men of immense talent and promise, would soon die—one trying to save a friend from drowning; one from a virulent throat cancer. A second marriage would end in a second widowhood. And yet Margaret was never, by any account, a bitter woman. Rather, Richard and Mallie’s third-born child was “Aunt Margaret the Peace-maker.” Gentle. Reasoning. The voice of calm in the midst of Lloyd Jones turbulence. 

Born January 13, 1835, in Llandysul, Wales, and named for Richard's remarkable mother, Margaret Enoch (Jones), our Margaret would have been nearly nine when the tears and embraces of friends and relatives sent the small family off to its future. Ahead were Utica, New York, the frigid winter of 1844, the sudden illness and death of her little sister, Nanny, and the final 1845 destination—Ixonia, Wisconsin.

One can well imagine that the growing Margaret was the prime distaff helper to "the little mother” Mallie, who had exchanged the familiar hills and valleys, language and loving friends of Wales for life as a pioneer wife and mother. Certainly, Mallie's lifelong love of the beautiful was echoed by her daughter. We are told Mallie gathered flower seeds from her native Wales to beautify her unknown American home. Aunt Margaret's homes, even in the most unlikely soils, blazed with native flowers and carefully tended herbs, a colorful splash of beauty that eased the heart and elevated the spirit.

By the time Margaret married Thomas Evans, she was 21 and the family had moved to Spring Green. We know little of Margaret's first marriage. The young couple lived in Old Helena before settling at York, Fillmore County, near the Iowa line of Minnesota. Thomas’ younger brother, Evan Evans, described the way they filled their wagon with a few chickens, a barrel of salt pork, and a few dire necessities and set out for Iowa, where they built their log hut and started their farm. When word reached home that they could do well if they had a few cows (milk being scarce there), Evan, after much pleading with his parents, started out on foot with two cows and a calf, driving them all that distance alone. He took with him a little money and lots of lunch, slept in the open, milked the cows, giving the milk to the pioneers who were willing to allow him to keep his cows and calf within their fenced lot for the night. His rap at one cabin door afforded him a refreshing face-hand-and-foot bath, a warm supper, a night indoors, and a fresh lunch. Another experience of that long trek to Iowa was that of crossing the Mississippi on a raft. He nearly lost his calf, but hung onto its tail. His life was saved by the raftsman, who grabbed him by the seat of the pants! Years later, that same Evan Evans became Jenkin’s tent mate and companion throughout their service in the Civil War.

Meanwhile, Thomas and Margaret lived the life of true pioneers in Fillmore County. There their two sons, Orren Thomas and Charles Henry, were born in 1858 and 1860, and there, two years later, Thomas Evans died, leaving Margaret a young widow with two small sons to care for.

By this time, the Lloyd Joneses had set their eye on “the Valley” in Wisconsin and it was to that refuge that Margaret returned.

In 1873, the second “Jones” of her name appeared when she married Thomas B. Jones of Arena, a widower with growing daughters. As there was already a “Thomas” in the Lloyd Jones family, her new husband was dubbed “Uncle Jones.” Descendants of his line live in Arena to this day, always welcome connections and additions to the lines from Richard and Mallie.

This union with Uncle Jones led to one of Jennie's Lloyd-Jones’ favorite riddles: “My eldest sister is my youngest brother's mother-in-law,” for indeed, Margaret’s brother Enos, the youngest of the clan, was married to Eleanor, the eldest daughter of Uncle Jones.

Tragedy struck Margaret again when 23-year-old Charley Evans, her youngest (1860-1883), drowned trying to rescue a companion who had fallen through the ice of Lake Pepin. One saw written in the snow the two skate tracks, the abrupt hole in the ice, the garments (Charley's) thrown off by the would-be-rescuer, the sad, unmarked emptiness surrounding the site thereafter.

From the Thomas diaries:

Wed. Dec. 5, 1883: About 3 PM Thomas Jones of Arena came here with the sad news that Charley Evans was drowned in Lake Pepin on the 3rd of Dec. Self took James over to Spring Green to go seek for Charleys corpse. Orren [Charley’s brother] went with him.

Thursday, Dec. 6: Met Brother Jenkin come home from Chicago. Jenkin started for Chicago but got a dispatch stating that Charley’s body was found and wood [would] be here tomorrow night.

Saturday, Dec. 8, 1883: All went to poor Charleys funeral at Arena Brother Jenkin preach the sermon very appropriate Sang Near my God to Thee and Life is Real Life is Earnest Poor Sister Margaret felt very bad

Uncle Jenk, who conducted the memorial, spoke of the loss with great sadness, for many expected Charles to join the clergy and continue to write articles for Unity magazine. “May it be that the twenty-three years without a mis-spent day, measured by the standards of realities, comprehend something of the fullness of threescore and ten; and mayhap the fall of the youthful standard bearer will nerve other hands to seize the colors and carry them along.” The peaceful Uncle Jenk still offered the military metaphors from his service with the Union army.

In probability, Charley was buried in the Arena graveyard where his stepfather’s two previous wives were buried. We know his funeral was in Arena. Then, when the Unity Chapel graveyard was created some six years later, he was one of the “two brave boys” to be brought there, along with his little cousin Eve-Jenk, and grandparents Richard and Mallie, whose caskets were brought from Spring Green.

Only three years later, Margaret's 28-year-old son (1858-1886), Orren Evans, succumbed to virulent throat cancer, leaving a wife, Sarah Lavinia Sims, and a five-month-old daughter, Orrena, who lived her life as a librarian and died unwed. The disease came upon him suddenly when his wife was pregnant, and it was his request to tell no one (save Uncle Jenk) until his baby was born. Stories of his fortitude and courage remain in the family.

From the Thomas diaries:

Sun. May 16, 1885: Self and Esther went to Dodgeville with Eve to see Orren found him very poorly.      

Saturday May 22, 1886: Self went to help fixing grave yard. Enos went to see Orren in Dodgeville.

Monday, May 31, 1886: Self went to church part of time. Tending mason. James brought Orren and family here in the evening

Sunday, June 20, 1886: Eve and family drove over to see poor Orren whom is going down the valley of death very rapidly.

Thursday, June 24, 1886: Had a religious service at Philip’s house to comfort Orren. Brother Jenkin officiate.

Monday, June 28, 1886: Orren back to Dodgeville.

Sunday, July 4, 1886: Found Orren very much better.

Sunday, Aug. 8, 1886: Home all day. John and Enos and Ellen went to Dodgeville to see Orren. Found him very poorly.

Thursday, Aug. 12, 1886: Working at the church and started the privy. At noon the man came from Dodgeville with the news that Orren was dead. Died about 9:00 AM this morning.

Friday, August 13, 1886: Had a shower of rain in the morning. Started to Orren’s funeral 10:30. Esther, Susan and Gannett rode with me. Took dinner at Hucking. Funeral at 4 PM. large one. Jenkin talked, Gannett prayed and Simmons spoke at the grave. “So ended the life of one of the best children and a noble young man leaving a wife and a babe to mourn his love.”

Orren was buried in Dodgeville in his wife’s family plot. But did he stay there?

In a letter written April 14, 1889, John wrote Jenk, “…today our forces were divided five men and three teams went over to the Green and brought back to the valley Father and Mother and the little name sake and the two brave boys...tonight they are laid down in the green garden of their affection by the little chapel. Now you will see that the little spot is dearer than ever. As it holds in its bosom the two grandparents and their five little grandsons."

Five grandsons? We know of three small children: Paul (James line) and Enos’ unnamed baby boy, who were already interred, and Eve-Jenk, who came with his grandparents from the Spring Green cemetery. Charley was disinterred and brought from Arena. So who was the fifth? Orren is the only remaining grandson to have died at that time, but there is no document that mentions bringing him from Dodgeville.

With Orren' s death, the Margaret line ended. But Margaret herself lived on, burying “Uncle Jones,” her spouse of nineteen years, in 1892.

Four deaths within her life. Where could she go?  What could she do?

The Spring Green Home News:

03 / 12 / 1891 Mrs. Thomas Jones of Arena visited her relatives at Hillside last week.

12 / 15 / 92 Mrs. Margaret Jones has moved into her new cottage.

01 / 19 / 93 Mr. David Timothy... is now at work upon a stone mantel for Mrs. Margaret Jones...

02 / 09 / 93 Mr. Timothy has finished Mrs. Margaret Jones’ mantel and it has been placed in her pretty cottage.

Once again, Margaret turned to her family. She and her widowed stepdaughter, “Aunt Annie” (Williams), built a cottage on an acre of Enos' land opposite Hillside. That charming gambrel-roofed cottage remains for all to see and has further entwined itself into the Lloyd Jones story by being bought and renovated by Enos descendant Jeffrey Lloyd-Jones in the 2010s.

As did many of her siblings, Margaret took in pupils from Hillside Home School from time to time. One in particular, a “Thomas L. Jones” defied identification until a message received at our website named him “Thomas Leslie Jones, grandson of ‘Uncle Jones,’” seen here reading to his classmates before his graduation from Hillside in 1910.

It was a fine arrangement. The borders could help the ladies with heavy chores around the house and the ladies could take interest and pride in the young people they were assisting.

The Aunt Margaret of Maginel Wright Barney's memory lived a peaceful life after the turmoil of her losses. As she became older, her thick Welsh accent developed a quaver and her hands were palsied, but she appeared elegant in the simplest garments and her voice of reason and peace was heard with appreciation, if not always attention. Another Uncle Jones descendant, Dannie Jones, remembered “She had the most beautiful voice that I have ever heard. It was a kind of sing-song voice with a kind of beautiful tremor, and just the right kind of Welsh accent—like icing on a cake.”

January 11, 1914, two days shy of her 79th birthday, Margaret Lloyd-Jones Evans Jones closed her eyes and her once-promising line came to a final end. The obituary published in the Home News of January 22, 1911 said: “Mrs. Jones was one of the world's quiet personalities of sober judgment and keen human sympathies. She lived in and for the community and gave to its life her best effort. Her two sons died in early manhood but her loss only broadened her sympathy and love for all those with whom she came in contact. Until failing strength prevented she was always active in the social and charitable activities of the community, and to the end of her life kept the supervision of the services in the family chapel.”