USA > Connecticut > Hartford County > Newington > Early days in Newington, Connecticut, 1833-1836 > Part 2
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I remember that in that year of which I am speaking, my first in Newington, General Kellogg was offered what was regarded as an extra price, 30 cents a bushel for his potatoes if he would deliver them within a very short time on board a sloop in Hartford. Both the proprietor and all his men were full of interest in improving the opportunity, and we all went busily to work, not stopping to count the hours of daily labor. By the hearty efforts of all hands the job was done, the last load delivered on time.
Then came on the fall work. General Kellogg had, scattered about on the home farm, on out lots and up in "Ten Rod," a large quantity of cider apples. He contracted with Horace Seymour of Hartford to deliver the cider at his recti- fying establishment near the South Green in Hartford, for 50 cents a barrel. Would not the Newington people of to-day leave their apples to rot upon the ground rather than accept such terms? But in those days labor was cheap. I have said that I was employed at $16 a month besides board and lodging. That was the rate of wages during the driving work of the summer, but in the fall they were reduced to $8.33 a month. I thought then and I think still that I fully earned all that I received. It took many long days to get the cider crop to market. That was my business. I rose at daylight; was ex- pected to go over to Mrs. Whittlesey's cider mill, lay up a cheese of the apple pomace-ground out the day before by the boys in the old-fashioned, crude way, with straw-press out and put up twelve barrels of cider in the forenoon. In the afternoon, with a slow ox-team I delivered these twelve barrels in Hartford, returning after dark. When I had turned out my oxen into the pasture north of Cyrus Francis's and eaten my supper, I must hasten to bed to be ready to enter upon the same busy round at early dawn. This went on until I had delivered 400 barrels of cider, for which the general re- ceived $200. I have myself employed a great many men since those days, and I cannot recall one who was willing to work as long and as hard as I did then, even for the much larger wages which I paid. Sixty years ago the laborers of New England were mainly Americans, with the American industry and ambition, looking forward always to something better in the future. Many of my own workmen have been foreigners,
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and not seldom they have been too much inebriated with the spirit, not always so frankly declared, of a certain Irishman who once applied to me for employment. I declined to engage him, giving as a reason that I had not work enough. That reason did not seem to be adequate, and he replied with unc- tion, "An' sure, very little work will do me, sir!"
General Kellogg's hands never complained. He was an ideal employer and an excellent manager, with a profound knowledge of human nature and with the somewhat rare gift of keeping his men always interested in their work, ambitious to always meet or surpass his expectations of them, and content with what was for the time a fair return. At least that was my own experience. I greatly respected and admired the general. Before I had been with him three months he was my ideal business man, and I had become as eager to do my ut- most to advance his interests as if they were my own. I could not help knowing that my work was really worth more than I was receiving, but I had my own reasons for retaining the place. My eye was on that little New England academy a few rods away. I longed for more education. General Kellogg was to me not merely an employer; I felt that he was my friend as well. He manifested an interest in my best welfare, and had promised me a home through the winter, with the privilege of attending the academy.
It was a great pleasure to me to see that the general was satisfied with my work. Not that he said much, but he reposed more and more confidence in me, trusting me with difficult or responsible undertakings. Before the summer was over he often sent me to Hartford and New Britain to market the earlier products of the farm. On one occasion, in the latter part of the haying, I was sent in the afternoon to deliver a load of hay to a man living a mile east of New Britain (I think his name was North). The general looked the load over carefully before I started and said, "If he will take it at 2,500 pounds without weighing, let him have it, otherwise drive on to town and weigh it." As I drove along observing the drawing of the two yoke of oxen, I became convinced that 2,500 pounds was an underestimate of the weight of my load, and when the purchaser said as he examined the hay, "Can't we guess the load off, and save you the trouble of going to the scales?" I
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replied, "The load is well packed and draws heavy; you may have it for 2,750 pounds, or I will weigh it." He seemed a man who understood such business, and readily took the hay at my estimate. On my way home I came across some young cattle belonging to General Kellogg, which had been missing for some days. Of course I drove them before my team and turned them into their proper pasture, south of the river bridge, before going home. I made my report respecting the hay and was gratified with the general's satisfaction, but I did not think to mention the cattle. Next day at noon the general said to his son Welles: "You must manage the getting in of the hay. I must go and hunt those paltry cattle." "Why," said I, "I found those cattle and put them into the pasture last evening." "Well," he exclaimed, "you are a man of business!" I give the incident to illustrate General Kellogg's appreciation of a man's faithfulness to his employer's interests. I felt that his brief remark was intended as a high compliment to myself, and I was confirmed in my habit of using always for him not only my full strength of body, but my best judgment also.
Grinnell, Iowa, October 30, 1894.
V.
November's waning days brought in one unique New England festival, now happily become national and, I trust, perpetual. The Thanksgiving Day of 1833 was celebrated according to time-honored custom. The usual avocations were suspended and a large assemblage of devout and thankful hearts gathered in the meeting-house where the Rev. Joab Brace delivered a carefully-prepared discourse appropriate to the occasion. The religious service ended, the remainder of the day was devoted to feasting and such varied forms of rejoicing as suited the diverse dispositions and circumstances of the Newington people. Were ever Thanksgiving turkeys and plum puddings and mince and pumpkin pies cooked and eaten outside the limits of dear old New England which to her wandering children had quite the flavor of those partaken of within her borders in the long ago! Trained by such recollec- tions the palate is evermore critical, fastidious and regretful.
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The Monday following Thanksgiving Day witnessed the opening of the Academy and my introduction to Newington school life. A Yale College student, Warner Hoyt, had been secured as teacher. Reaching the building a short time before the hour for the opening of the school, I found a goodly number of pupils awaiting the teacher's arrival. I was rather bashfully conscious of being a stranger to many of them, but Sophia Stoddard, who knew every one and was liked by all, introduced us to one another in her cordial, lady-like manner, which relieved all constraint. Of those present I remember Laurens Kellogg and his sister Mary, Martin Whittlesey, Samuel Brace, Frances Norton Welles, Charlotte and Edwin Welles, Martin Brown, Levi S. Deming, William F. Willard, Sarah Wells, Frances G. Wells, Charlotte Francis, Sophia Stoddard, Cornelia Stoddard, Elizabeth Seymour, John D. Seymour, Rufus and Charles Stoddard and Charles K. Atwood. There were probably a dozen more, whom I do not call to mind at this moment. Mr. Hoyt was an agreeable man and a good teacher. The school was promptly organized and set regularly to work. I do not remember that there were any troublesome scholars; all seemed to have come for a worthy purpose and were diligently studious. As my acquaintance with my schoolmates became more intimate I saw more and more in their characters and conduct to respect and admire. Com- ing as they did from the best of those well-regulated Newington homes, they gave evidence of worthy ancestry and careful training. A delightful spirit pervaded the whole village community at that time-I wonder if it has wholly died out now. It was a spirit of just pride in all that tended to build up and strengthen the best things in the "society," as it was called, Newington being then a part of the town of Wethers- field. The feeling seemed to be shared by old and young alike and imparted an admirable tone of friendly and cordial co-operation in all that could advance the common interest. It was the true "public spirit," always a part of the genuine New England life in large or small communities. The pupils of the Academy entered heartily into the village pride in their excellent school. The atmosphere was favorable to study, and I found only pleasure in my school work, till compositions and declamations began to be assigned. I can never cease to
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be grateful to Mr. Hoyt for the timely help given me privately in his own room, which taught me how to go to work upon a composition. My first declamation was an even greater trial than my first composition. It was easy to commit the piece to memory, but how could I ever muster courage to step out before that critical company of young people, who had all enjoyed so many more advantages than I, and were so far beyond me in all that gives self-possession and ease of bearing. When I tried to practice by myself I found that I did not know what on earth to do with my hands or with my feet. Indeed, the whole six feet three and a half inches of my bodily frame seemed only one ungainly mass of awkwardness and angularity. But I never thought of trying to evade the inevitable. When the dreaded moment arrived I marched out and faced the battery of eyes, as I should have faced a battery of cannon, had that been my duty. Well, I survived the ordeal, and it was not quite so bad as my fears. No one laughed; on the contrary, I met many a sympathizing glance, which gave me courage.
I have always cherished a warm affection for my teacher and for my fellow-pupils of that winter. Surely no more worthy company of young men and maidens was ever gathered in one school-room. It is a pleasure to recall them one by one. Levi S. Deming possessed a fine mind and made an excellent scholar. I expected him to continue on through college and make a minister. Probably William F. Willard was pre- eminent among the young men for real brilliancy of mind, as Sophia Stoddard and Charlotte Welles were among the young women, but there were others of equally good mental endow- ments and of equally studious habit. Frances Norton Welles was one of those quiet, modest girls, who would occasionally flash out a bright saying, which delighted us. I can now recall only one of her quick turns-not one of her best, but it happens to be the one that sticks in my memory.
We happened one noon-time to fall to discussing a certain young man who spent a part of his time with friends in New- ington. Though he had a college education, he had more knowledge than wisdom, and our young people did not like the airs he put on, nor his sneers at what he regarded as the prudishness of the people, nor his grasping, selfish disposition.
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In course of this talk one of the scholars undertook to defend the fellow by remarking: "Well, after all, I guess he has a good heart." "Heart!" exclaimed Frances Welles, "He got a heart! No, when they were passing round hearts and gizzards he took two gizzards!" How we all laughed. We felt that the fellow was justly characterized. It was a happy, jolly set of schoolboys and schoolgirls, and I count that winter spent with them among the happiest of my life. My progress in my studies was reasonably satisfactory, and I now remember that I had so far mastered the dreaded task of composition writing as to be able, before the term closed, to render some aid to others who found it hard work. The closing day of school was an important occasion. Most of the parents and near friends of the pupils were present, besides the village dignitaries. General Kellogg and Mr. Brace occupied promin- ent places among them. The general had taken an almost fatherly interest in my studies. He was himself a fine reader and speaker, and had been a great help to me in my study of elocution, drilling me himself with patience and care upon my declamations. I was glad to see that he seemed pleased with my progress. Laurens Kellogg gave us on that "last day," a declamation on the character of Washington, then, as now, the ideal man, though today, without loss to himself, he divides the honors with Lincoln and Grant, our western heroes.
For some months after the close of the Academy term I continued my studies under a private tutor, a young Dr. Wadsworth, who had just completed a course in medicine under the celebrated Dr. Woodward of Wethersfield, from whom he brought the highest recommendations. While under his instructions I had a home with him at William Deming's. Dr. Wadsworth was an eccentric genius, but popular especially with the young men who were attracted to his office by his quaint and original sayings. He proved, however, to have a hatred for religion, which did not find favor with Newington people. Having little practice at first he used to experiment with his drugs upon himself, and I some- times feared for the result. The sudden death of a young daughter Martha, who died April 19, 1834, aged 13, of Enos Deming while under his care led to a post mortem examination, but the investigation resulted in favor of Dr. Wadsworth.
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After a year or two Dr. Wadsworth removed to Michigan where he died early.
Grinnell, Iowa, November 12, 1894.
VI.
June, 1834, found me again on the Kellogg farm with another three-months' engagement on the same terms as before, $16 a month, and about the same set of men, Edwin Gaylord being added in haying time. There was the same routine in summer work. After sheep-shearing came the hoeing and haying, which, in turn was followed by the har- vesting of the rye and oats. Bear in mind that this was before the days of farm machinery. Reapers, and mowers, and rakers, and binders, and loaders, and stackers were not. As these have come in, the poetry of farm life has vanished. Gone is the picturesque scene in the billowy hay-field, where a dozen men, stepping with military precision, bent all their strong backs together and swung their powerful arms to the musical "swish" of the gleaming scythes through the tall grass, like a crew of perfectly-trained rowers bowing to the rhythmic dip of the oars. Gone the graceful tossing and turning of the hay in the sweet July sunshine, the wide sweep of the shining cradles amid the golden grain, the steady tread and deft movement of the binders following behind. Gone the days when the laborer putting himself into his work could rejoice in the achievements of his hand; with the coming-in of the age of machinery we have gained much, but we have also lost much. . I realized this second year that I was on a somewhat different footing in the family than a year ago. The general was commander-in-chief of all the forces, with his son, Welles, as his chief aid. They were now my personal friends. Welles often invited me to his room for the night, and sometimes, as boys will, we talked for long hours over our plans for life. It is betraying no confidence to say now that even then Welles had determined to remain at home and devote himself to the relief of his father's cares, and to watching over his parents during their old age. He told me he should never marry while they lived, lest he should be turned from his filial purpose. I, on my part, confided to him that my eye had been attracted
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to a new face which I had seen in the "singers' seats" of a Sunday. It was that of a bright, intelligent-looking young girl, with dark hazel eyes, rosy cheeks and long black ringlets hanging about her shoulders. I saw that she was modest and shy as a partridge. I learned that she was Simeon Stoddard's eldest daughter, who had been at school in New York during the past year.
Some time after I again alluded to the new face among the singers, and then Welles turned upon me with this vigorous assertion, "L-, you can't get that girl. She's the prettiest girl that was ever in Newington since Delia Whittlesey married Homer Camp." I had no thought then that I should ever want to "get" the lovely girl, but I will just say here that when, two years later, I finally left New England to make a home for myself in the wilderness of the great West, that same lovely face was by my side.
These were the days when the air was full of new ideas respecting transportation. Five years before the first loco- motive (an English engine built by George Stephenson) to actually run on rails in America had been set going, and already a multitude of short roads were in operation in various eastern and southern States, and the great era of railroad building had begun. A charter had been given for a railway between Hart- ford and New Haven in 1833, though the road was not actually opened until six years later: The little town of Newington was stirred to the bottom by the agitation concerning the building of that road. It must pass through Newington, and many and fearful were the forebodings as to its effect upon the welfare of the town should the iron monster be allowed to rush through the center, even at the very moderate speed which had then been attained. Through the influence of wealthy citizens the road was finally crowded to the west to be run through back lots, but every survey ran near to Mr. Seymour's house, and nearer still to Allen Stoddard's, which last was finally moved to one side, conceding the right of way to the new mode of loco- motion. Now a multitude of trains daily thunder over the two lines of busy roads which traverse the town.
It was at this time, too, that all Connecticut and, indeed, all New England, were disturbed by the great theological controversy between "Old School" views and "New School"
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views. Newington was firm in the faith of the fathers, and was inclined to look askance at novelties in doctrine preached by the famous Dr. Taylor of New Haven and the great evangel- ist Finney in New York State. Nearly all the people took sides with Dr. Tyler, who had been placed at the head of a new theological seminary, which had been established at East Windsor, and manned with Old School professors. Even the great and good Dr. Nettleton joined with many other earnest and worthy men in striving to stem the incoming tide of a broader and more liberal theology. But the new seminary was never greatly prospered at East Windsor, while the mighty work done by Taylor and Finney has greatly redounded to the glory of God and the good of man.
Perhaps some of those who take an interest in reminiscences of days long past in Newington will find it pleasant to visit with me some of the homes which memory still preserves unchanged in all these sixty years.
Mrs. Electa Whittlesey, who was the widow of Heman Whittlesey and died December 5, 1838, aged 45, a sister of General Kellogg, lived in the house next south of his, and managed the good farm on which the house stood, with the help of William Blinn, who had been for years her capable man of business, and guided in time of need by the ready and wise advice of her elder brother, the general. I recall Mrs. Whittlesey as at that time an enterprising, intelligent woman about 40 years of age. She was small in stature, but dignified in carriage, and active in all good works of Christian benevol- ence and charity. I well remember the great earnestness and kindness with which she urged me to become a decided Chris- tian. I shall never forget the sweet tones of the voice with which she said to me on that occasion at her own home, "The Spirit and the Bride say, Come, and whosoever will let him come and take of the water of life freely." As I left her to go home it was hard work to keep back the tears, and I said to myself, "She, at least, is a true Christian." There were two sons and a daughter in Mrs. Whittlesey's family, all of them in school. They were Martin and Heman and Cornelia. Mar- tin, after graduating from Yale College and Theological Sem- inary, came to Illinois, and was for many years the beloved pastor of the Congregational church in Ottawa. Later he
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held for some years the responsible position of superintendent of home missions for the State. There has been no break in my acquaintance with him. I saw him a few years ago at the Illinois State Association of Congregational Churches, where he acted as registrar.
A little to the south of the regular road eastward resided Mr. William Kirkham, prominent among the intelligent citi- zens of the town, and especially to be remembered for his long and useful career as a teacher. He followed that profession from 1821 to 1855. During my residence in Newington, Mr. Kirk- ham was engaged in teaching in Springfield, Mass., and I saw him only occasionally during the vacations which he spent at home. My acquaintance with his young sons was also very slight during those early days, and it is only within the last dozen years that I have come to count among my honored friends one of those sons, the Hon. J. S. Kirkham, in whose delightful home I have been repeatedly entertained with generous and charming hospitality, and placed under obliga- tions which I fear I can never repay. Mrs. J. S. Kirkham is an acquaintance of earlier date. She was my pupil at the tender age of 4 years, and I well remember her interesting ap- pearance at that youthful period, as she sat demurely on a low seat in my schoolroom. I hope those first school days gave her some little impulse toward the thorough educational career which she enjoyed as she grew older. After completing a course of study at Mount Holyoke Seminary, as a pupil of the famous Mary Lyon, she was for several years a teacher in Illinois, and was during some of those years a beloved member of my family and an efficient helper in the education of my own children. Broadened and developed by her years of western experience she returned to Connecticut, and Newington is still gathering benefits from the presence and influence in the community of her strong and worthy character and her ripe, well-rounded life.
Grinnell, Iowa, November 27, 1894.
VII.
A little west of the Center School-house stood a stately old mansion, in which Dr. Hall resided when I first saw New- ington. It was known to all the region as "the Williams house,"
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and I conjecture it was the residence of the first pastor of the Newington church, the Rev. Elisha Williams, whom Yale College enticed away to fill the presidency of that growing institution. Be that as it may, the house was a noble structure, a fine specimen of colonial architecture, built in the most substantial manner, with caps of doors and windows covered with sheet lead. Evidently the building dated back to very early days, and had long been a well-known landmark, but about this time it was left tenantless and forsaken, the owner not caring to keep up the property. After standing for years a prey to decay, the beautiful old house at last vanished one night in smoke.
The residence next east, just back of those grand New England elms, was the home of Roger Welles and his family, one of the old and greatly-respected families of the place. From this large and commodious dwelling, General Kellogg had taken his wife, and it had been also the early home of her brother, Judge Martin Welles of Wethersfield, who was said to be the ablest man in the State. Mr. and Mrs. Roger Welles were then (in 1834) in middle life, a model couple, surrounded by their seven children, two sons and five daughters, to whom they were intensely devoted. The three eldest, as already mentioned, I knew as fellow-pupils in the academy. With the younger ones I had little personal acquaintance. In after years Roger, one of the youngest of the family, prepared with much credit to himself, that most admirable and valuable little work, "The Annals of Newington." Edwin, the elder son, after having been my associate in the Newington Acade- my, was also my schoolmate at the East Windsor Academy, whither we went together in the autumn of 1834. Just sixty years ago, Edwin. Could you think it? Do you remember how we roomed together and boarded with good Deacon Loomis? Have you forgotten what a patriarchal family it was of the old New England type-the old deacon and his wife, the son and his wife, with their children-three genera- tions dwelling together under one roof? You must surely recollect those long prayers of the good old man, setting in order before the Almighty in the same identical words, morning after morning the sins, and the needs of all the various classes of the human race and detailing the divine blessings suited to
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