USA > Connecticut > Hartford County > Newington > Early days in Newington, Connecticut, 1833-1836 > Part 3
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11
22
-
their multiplied necessities. Recalling those lengthened plead- ings before the throne, I am reminded of the pious deacon in Hanover, N. H., who was wont in similar fashion to spread before the Lord his daily petitions for the universe, using always the same words. As years went by his boys, more active and mischievous than devout, learned by heart the route by which the family devotions were at last brought to the welcome "amen," and fell into the habit of slipping out to play while the prayer went on, taking care only to be found in their places when the good father rose from his knees. On one occasion, it is recorded, one of the boys having been sent to listen and report as to the necessity of their return to a devotional attitude, came back shouting, "We can have an- other game, boys, he's only got to the Jews!" But I would be the last to make light of the prayers of worthy Deacon Loomis. You and I, Edwin, may owe to them more than we think. You remember his gentle, frail, old wife, old in years, but young of heart, and beautiful of soul. How kind she was to me. Inquiring about my home and my mother and finding how far I was from both, she strove in her sweet, motherly way to make up to me for their absence, even looking carefully after my shirt-buttons and my stockings, and speaking many kind words, which abide with me yet. Then, the son's wife, what a lovely woman she was. How soon we forgot the sad blemish by which one-half of her face was covered with hair as from a deer's hide, and remembered only the beautiful character which won one's admiration and love. But those days have been gone three score years, Edwin, into the eternity of the past! We used to walk back and forth between New- ington and East Windsor then; we could hardly do it now!
Across the street from Roger Welles's residence stood the old Center Schoolhouse. Miss Ann Wells was teaching there in 1834, and she continued to teach until she became the bride of Jedediah Deming. Mr. Brace held on Monday evenings in that school-house a young people's Bible class, which I attended. We studied the writings of St. Paul. Each of us would read a few verses in turn, and then Mr. Brace would fasten his large eyes upon us, asking us questions and giving us learned explanations. I remember that Marietta Wells was the best reader in the class.
23
١
In that same school-house I appeared before the august body known as the examining committee, when I applied for a certificate of fitness to teach the North School. Mr. Brace was chairman and asked all the questions. The last two were, "Will you teach the Assembly's Catechism every Saturday forenoon?" and "Will you pray once a day in your school ?" I pledged myself to both and I got the certificate.
Passing east to the corner we find a new blacksmith shop, opened about this time by Newman Francis, who about this time also took to himself a wife, adding one more family to our little community, started. A little to the north and back of the Common resided the elder Mr. Whaples, far advanced in life and very quiet in his declining years. Not so his son Elisha, who lived still farther north. He was in the prime of life and was one of the most active and useful of men in the "society." He was a carpenter and had two apprentices, William Roberts and Henry Tucker. They were always busy with building and repairing all over town. Mr. Whaples was a most genial, accommodating and agreeable man, and his early death was much lamented. His son, Warren D. Whaples, settled in Neponset, Ill., where, by his upright business char- acter-as merchant and banker, and by his pure and useful life as a deacon of the church, he has reflected honor upon his parents and his early home. He has passed away, but his two sons have succeeded to his business.
Deacon Origen Wells with his wife and their family of daughters was to be found dwelling on the little knoll to the · north of Mr. Whaples's. It was a most estimable family. The parents were already upon the downward side of the hill of life; the daughter Mary, as the wife of Deacon John F. Willard, came to Illinois in 1836, and with her husband did faithful and noble work in helping to lay the foundations of a Christian civilization in the new country. One of their sons, a grandson of Deacon Origen Wells, Deacon William Origen Willard, is to-day my nearest neighbor, and two still younger generations are also citizens of Iowa. A maiden sister of Deacon Origen Wells who had been blind from early childhood was long a member of his family in Newington. Chastened by her affliction, her character was one of great sweetness and beauty. She had acquired astonishing facility in going about
24
the house without eyes and making herself useful to the family.
Another sightless resident of Newington was Polly Shep- herd, blind from birth, poor and homeless. She was a member of the "Society" and the Newington church refused to permit her to be sent to the poor-house, the different families, instead, receiving her into their homes for a fortnight at a time, in turn.
Going on still northward we come to the home of Mrs. Catherine Wells, familiarly known as "Aunt Katy Wells," the widow of William Wells. She had been left with a moderate property to support and educate her family of three daughters and two sons. Being in the vigorous years of life, possessed of great energy and faithfulness of character combined with ex- cellent judgment, no mother could have done better than she. The children were all energetic and self-reliant, and began early to bear the responsibilities of life. Abbie once interested me with the tale of her first effort to secure the teaching of a school. She went alone, when but 16 years old, to Southington on horseback, applied for the school, was examined, secured a certificate, engaged the position, and returned home, all in the same day. But it is with the life-history of Catherine that I have been most familiar. She became the wife of Deacon Milo Doty of Hartford, and after a residence of many years in that city the family removed to Illinois, where they were long my nearest neighbors. Mrs. Doty was like a sis- ter to my wife and our two households were almost as one. Could "Aunt Katy Wells" now revisit earthly scenes she would leave behind her in the spirit land all but two of her children. The widowed daughters who are still with us are two beautiful, sweet-tempered, white-haired old ladies, each residing with her children. Frances, the widow of William F. Willard, remains in Connecticut, living with her son, William A. Willard, on Clinton street, Hartford. Mrs. Doty has made her home since her husband's death with her daughter and only child, the wife of the Rev. Allen J. Van Wagner, now of Creston, Iowa. In the Creston parsonage she is the beloved "Little Mother," not only to the pastor's family, but throughout the parish also. Though past four-score she still retains her in- telligent interest in the affairs of the church and of the world. The grand-children of "Aunt Katy Wells" are to be found in Connecticut, Iowa, Nebraska, California and Montana, and
25
all are worthy representatives of this most excellent family. Grinnell, Iowa, December 11, 1894.
VIII.
In a little cluster of houses about the church lived a number of well-known families who had long occupied the same homes, and who were among the upright and reliable citizens of the parish. In one of these dwellings lived Dosi- theus Hubbard with his wife, one son, and two or more daugh- ters. They were all to be seen in their places in church on the Sabbath, and Mr. Hubbard's defective ears were assisted in their duties by an ear-trumpet of prodigious length which all who were accustomed to attend upon the services of the Newington sanctuary sixty years ago will surely remember. Young William Hubbard in due time left the parental home to establish one of his own near by.
In this neighborhood have dwelt many generations of Kilbourns, whose members have served the community in various capacities. They have been postmasters and mail- carriers, and I am told that for five successive generations the family furnished a man for the honorable office of church sexton, so that a Newington resident would hardly feel himself properly buried unless one of that name had given earth to earth and neatly fitted the sods above his bones. For years, too, Tithing- man Kilbourn was a terror to any mischievous or giggling boys who frequented the house of God. I never saw him engaged in the active discharge of his interesting and important duties, for the office of tithing-man was abolished before I went to Newington.
My brother-in-law, Mr. Simeon B. Stoddard of Rock Island, Ill., has recently, for the fifteenth time, spent Thanks- giving Day with me and my family, and, naturally, we have had much talk about old Newington days. He has given me many interesting incidents of life there in times prior to my acquaintance with the charming village. Speaking of tithing- men suggests one of Mr. Stoddard's stories.
More than seventy years ago, for Mr. Stoddard is now a venerable gentleman of 82, he and his cousin, Marcus W. Stoddard, were, one sacred Sabbath day, sitting according to
26
their custom in the gallery of the old church. Something oc- curred in the midst of the solemn service which appealed to their boyish love of fun. The muscles of their faces relaxed; they smiled. I am afraid they giggled. Perhaps they even nudged each other. At any rate they drew upon themselves the watchful eyes of both the tithing-men, seated on elevated, conspicuous seats in different parts of the church. Both rose and stepped softly along the aisles. The eyes of the whole congregation turned toward the point to which their ways converged. Covered with confusion and shame, the two boys cowered trembling in their places. On came the tithing-men, steady and unswerving as the march of fate. They paused; they seated themselves on either side of the shame-faced young sinners. These smiled no more; they scarcely breathed; they dared not raise their eyes, while the long service dragged on. Meeting over, the boys glided swiftly away from the presence of the dreaded officers and hurried to their homes, exulting in their escape. But that was not the last of it. Monday came, and Mr. Kilbourn with his official brother appeared at the North school, where Mr. Daniel Willard was then teaching, and called for Simeon and Marcus Stoddard, whom they pre- pared to march off to their homes that in the presence of their respective parents the awful crime of "laughing in meeting" might be properly considered and punished with becoming severity. Even the heart of a New England tithing-man, however, has its soft spot, and so moving were the lamentations, and tears, and entreaties, and promises of the small culprits, that the stern souls of the officers were touched, and they were finally allowed to return to school under pledges to never, never laugh again.
-
.
The rights of a parson in his own parish were, in those early days, a matter of extreme importance. I know that any efforts on the part of the Methodists to hold meetings within his parish greatly troubled good Mr. Brace, and I am told by Mr. Stoddard, that he even declared from his pulpit that he would as willingly see a Methodist come into his home and rob him of his property, as to see him take from his church "these my sheep and my lambs." He felt himself to be the pastor of all the souls who dwelt within the boundaries of Newington parish, and responsible to God for them.
27
So large a part of the life of the community centered in the old church, that I find my thoughts of Newington days al- ways leading me back there. I can see the good people of the worshiping congregation with the eye of memory now, as they appeared to my natural eyes looking down upon them from my seat in the gallery. More than one of the excellent wor- thies, wearied with the busy out-of-door labors of the week, found the quiet and calm of the sanctuary more conducive to repose of mind and body than was altogether seemly. Some- times I saw funny things down in the big square pews below. I grieve to remember that I sometimes smiled, yielding to the levity of youth and unhaunted by fear of the vanished tith- ing-man.
Does any body else remember, I wonder, the two good deacons with very large noses who used to sit on opposite sides of the same square pew? As soothing slumber gradually wrapped them in oblivion, Deacon-began to gently nod and bow, lower and lower, to Deacon-across the pew, and nearer and nearer across the intervening space approached those mighty nasal organs, till an actual collision threatened.
In another pew I would see "Aunt Mary" Stoddard softly touch the drowsy ones, and silently pass round the "meet- ing seed." Often Mr. Seymour, and sometimes others would rise and stand erect in their places to relieve the sleepiness. Many found the "meeting seed" a help to wakefulness. It consisted of dill, caraway and fennel, raised in all the gardens and carefully saved for this special purpose. The hymn-book itself was not a more indispensable part of the church-goer's outfit.
On the east side of the street near the church lived William Deming and his wife. I knew them well, for I was for some months a member of their family. Their son and daughter had already left the parental home. Mr. Deming, besides being a wheelwright and carriage-maker, was postmaster also, and, by way of accommodation to his townsmen rather than for the profit of the business, kept a few goods for sale. Mr. Deming was more than a merely "good man," he was devoutly religious, and I have never known a man who lived up more fully to the spirit of Christ's teachings in the Sermon on the Mount. He was genial and kind and Christlike, and his wife
28
was a worthy mate for him. How kind she was to me, and how homelike was everything about the house! How I wish I could get this minute a great slice of just such rye bread as that with which Mrs. Deming furnished her table!
But were there none but good and pious people in that wonderful. old town of Newington? On that favored spot had the millennium really dawned? Alas! no. I have no knowledge of any town where a larger proportion of the people were intelligent, upright and strictly religious than in the Newington of sixty years ago. But even in Newington there were some who left the narrow way to walk, from choice, in the "broad road." It is not pleasant to dwell upon the dark side of the picture, yet, as a faithful chronicler, I should per- haps show something of it. Two men, with whom I labored side by side my first summer in Newington, were among those whose unhappy career and wretched fate might point the moral to a sad tale of Newington life. Father and son they were, whom not even the excellent example and the prayers and entreaties of wife and mother could turn from the down- ward course they had chosen. Though the father had, years before, publicly joined himself with the people of God, and though upon the innocent brow of his infant son good Pastor Brace had laid his baptismal hand in the name of the triune God, yet all the powerful influences for the right could not deter them from walking deliberately in the way that leads to death.
Even eternal love and mercy can never save a soul who will not save itself.
At about 50 years of age the younger man Samuel, son of Giles Smith was found dead in a barn, December 23, 1862. Rum, cold weather and his own voluntary act had ended his earthly life.
It may seem deeper degradation yet that a Newington wife and mother should have been known to go from house to house in beastly intoxication, begging for cider when she could not get rum. These are shadows to relieve the uniform bright- ness of my picture.
Grinnell, Iowa, January 17, 1895.
29
IX.
How customs and sentiments change with the passing years! Let me illustrate. In the days of my residence in Newington, St. Paul's injunction to the little church in Corinth -new-born to the light of Gospel liberty in the midst of the gross darkness of heathen immorality-"Let your women keep silence in the churches," was regarded as binding forever, even upon the purity and intelligence of a refined New England community. Only once in all those years did I ever hear a woman speak or pray, even in the little prayer-meetings com- posed of a few neighbors and friends. It would have been thought unseemly, unwomanly, bold, immodest, and con- trary to Holy Writ, for a woman to speak of a Saviour's love, or to give audible thanks to God for his unspeakable gift in the presence of men; while for a woman to presume to preach from the sacred desk-that indeed would foretell the crack of doom! Women were graciously permitted to sit with their husbands and brothers, and gather such spiritual help as they might from the labored narrations of the religious "exercises" of those worthy masculine relatives, and their somewhat monotonous pleadings before the throne of grace. But when they themselves approached the mercy seat, or made mention of their own joy in the triumph of redeeming love, they must first look carefully about that no masculine ears should be afflicted by such utterances. But once upon a time, in a little neighborhood prayer-meeting in the old North school-house, good Aunt Mary Stoddard's full heart overflowed, and out of the abundance the mouth spoke gracious words of peace and · wisdom and love in the ears of both men and women. It was a memorable innovation, but such was the regard of the com- munity for the excellent "woman who dared," that no serious scandal followed.
A few years ago, being on a visit to the staid and peaceful village, I found that even in that quiet retreat the world had moved. Attending there, as I delight to do at my own home, the meeting of the Young People's Christian Endeavor Society, I listened with edification to prayers and remarks by quite young girls, and by women of maturer years, and I noted that all spoke freely, without embarrassment and with heads un- covered in the presence of their brothers. Could old Pastor
30
·
Belden or good Parson Brace have been convinced by any prophet of their day that the church of their love, and even their own children according to the flesh, would in so few generations depart thus widely from the doctrines they had so faithfully instilled?
But already in the days of my first acquaintance with Newington there was much discussion of coming changes along many lines, and many a timid soul looked anxiously into the future. The vigorous New England mind then, as ever, delighted to wrestle with the knottiest problems of theology, and as they thought and studied some believed that they saw glimmerings of the "more light" which wise Pastor Robinson had assured our Pilgrim Fathers was "yet to break forth out of God's holy word." The great Dr. Taylor was preaching and teaching with power at New Haven, and was gaining a considerable following. In various parts of New England and New York, Finney was melting the hearts of hardened sinners and striking down with irresistible logic the defenses of the self-righteous and the rationalists who thronged by mul- titudes to hear him.
"New School Theology" was in the air, and Newington saints were stirred with others to the defense of the faith once delivered to their predecessors. Parson Brace was deeply concerned lest a fatal wave of deadly heresy should sweep the land to the ruin of immortal souls and sound theology. Many sympathized with him, and some were in danger lest their intemperate zeal for what they deemed truth should lead them away from faithful, aggressive Christian work into the unworthy business of heresy hunting. The new Theological Seminary at East Windsor, of which I have previously spoken, was established shortly after 1830, in the interest of conserva- tive orthodoxy, and to combat the threatening hosts of heresy. I fear that at the first it made that last part of its mission un- duly prominent. One instance of the spirit which seemed to animate some, at least of its instructors I will venture to give.
The Rev. Dr. Jonathan Cogswell, one of the professors in the seminary, was visiting at the home of the Rev. C. J. Ten- ney, pastor of the Wethersfield church, when a young man called to confide to Dr. Tenney his newly-formed purpose to lead a Christian life. The good pastor was deeply moved, and
31
went at once to another room that he might call his friend, Dr. Cogswell, to rejoice with him, and to extend the hand of Christian sympathy and welcome to the young convert. The learned professor had scarce a word to offer in loving greeting, no tender word of joy that the lost was found. The spirit of the controversalist seemed hot within him. Almost his first words, given with vigorous emphasis, were, "I hope you are not a Taylorite or a Finneyite!" I know of the chill which struck the young convert to the heart, for I was, myself, that young man. I did not then know what it was to be "a Taylorite or a Finneyite," but I knew that I was not a Cogswellite and I said to myself, "I will know something of the theology of Taylor and Finney." Perhaps I have Dr. Cogswell to thank that I afterward accepted the teachings of Dr. Taylor, and that in later years I listened with whole-hearted delight and wel- come to the preaching of the great Finney.
The East Windsor Seminary led a struggling life for a few years, for it lacked the true vital principle. Finally it was re- moved to Hartford, where, on a broader basis, and with the addition of new life, it has had a useful and worthy history. A great loss, however, came to Hartford Seminary, when, a few years ago, Chicago, with her accustomed audacity, called away one of her most valued professors, the Rev. Graham Taylor, D. D., whose work in the great city of the interior has made him already a leader in the most aggressive and the most hopeful lines of Christian effort.
This is a long digression in the midst of our Newington rambles. Let us call next at the parsonage and renew ac- quaintance with the honored pastor's household of sixty years ago. Mrs. Brace was a most useful woman in the parish as well as in her own home. Six children, with their parents, composed the family. Mary and Martha were the two daughters. The sons were Collins, Joab, jr.,-"the poor boy who was always lame," but blessed with a sweet and lovely disposition and gifted mind,-Samuel, a strong, promising lad, and John, the pale, fragile child, who was often brought into church in his father's arms. A few years before I came to Newington it happened that the peaceful serenity and orderly routine of life in the well-managed household was broken by the appearance of a young man at the parsonage, a stranger,
32
tall of figure and with strongly-marked features. Though intelligent, his face was positively homely. A letter which he presented to Mr. Brace; by way of explaining his intrusion, read as follows:
"Dear Sir: Will you allow me to introduce to your acquaintance Mr. John Todd, a student from Andover, and now on his return? Should he find it in his way to call on you, you will find him an agreeable and intelligent visitor, and ready for any good work which you may propose to promote the cause of the Redeemer among your people. Your af- fectionate friend.
The signature was that of a friend, and unusual as the request was, Mr. Brace could not refuse to receive the young man so recommended. The occasions when he had been ac- customed to call for outside help in his small parish were not frequent. A few times only he had been assisted by the great evangelist, Dr. Nettleton. But who was this callow youth whose services a distant friend had thus thrust upon the Newington pastor? Upon the stranger's introduction into the family circle, Mary Brace and John Todd met as old acquaintances, and it appeard that "Mr. Todd, while a student in Yale College, had been also a teacher in Mr. Herrick's school in New Haven, which Mary Brace attended as a pupil." As these facts were made known to the young lady's father, and he meditated upon them in connection with the mysterious letter of introduction, his gravity and reserve deepened. I can see in fancy the stern lines of those compressed lips as the uneasy parent gazed upon the unprepossessing countenance of his unwelcome visitor, and I am sure that John Todd was not so obtuse as to fail to understand the situation. "But those who knew John Todd knew that he was not easily discouraged." Opposition only strengthened his determination. Although it was plain that he had not come to Newington solely in the hope of finding opportunities for religious work in the parish, yet the genuine Christian earnestness of the man's character, his amiable disposition, his intelligence and learning, soon won him more favorable regard from both pastor and people. The very interesting and appropriate remarks which he made in prayer-meetings, and his real devotion to his chosen calling,
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.