USA > Connecticut > Hartford County > Newington > Early days in Newington, Connecticut, 1833-1836 > Part 6
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evening hour (for he had refused to go home earlier with the boy who had him in charge) sad was the little boy's condition. It was seventy years ago, but he will tell you to this day how one boy felt when he was drunk. His zig-zag course over the hills seemed the straightest and nearest way home; and al- though he was all right, the ground behaved very badly, for every little while it would rise up and hit him in the forehead. The lesson of that experience enforced by a wise father's careful control, kept him ever after that a sober boy. And though now near his eightieth year, he has never since known experimentally the power of drink. That experience was enough for a life-time, and he recommends total abstinence to all others."
The recollection of its well-patronized bar is the one draw- back to entirely pleasant associations with the memory of the Lusk tavern. In the early history of Newington, its influence upon the community was almost like that of a saloon of to-day. The New England rum, distilled from molasses, was not, indeed, the poison which our hard drinkers of today imbibe when they swallow our "Forty-rod whiskey," made largely of rotten corn and strychnine, nor did it do its deadly work so rapidly. But many a miserable family in Newington, and beyond, has felt the baneful power of that popular tavern bar.
When money was lacking drinks could be procured by barter. One woman was accustomed to pay in eggs-three eggs for a drink.
General Lusk himself I never knew, as he died some years before I went to Newington, but his children all settled in the neighborhood of the old home. The inn was sold, after the general's death, to Amos Fairchild, who continued the business until the railroad drew away the traffic from the turnpike, and an inn at the crossing was no longer needed.
General Lusk left no son, but four daughters. Prudence, the eldest, married Enos Deming, an intelligent, energetic . man. She was left a widow with three children, all of whom are now departed. The second daughter, Lucy, was the wife of Jeremiah Colton. After some years the family removed to Ohio, where they settled in an unbroken wilderness, felling trees for a log cabin, and clearing away the dense forest to make
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what became many years later a productive and valuable farm.
Mary, the third of General Lusk's daughters, married Jedediah Deming, in 1815. Harriet, the youngest of the sis- ters, married Benjamin Hopkins, a brave, patriotic man, and a good Christian as well. He was for some years captain of a flourishing cavalry company, but he died early and greatly lamented.
In the days of my Newington residence, Robert Rockwell lived on the farm a little to the east of the Lusk tavern. I am sure that I have been told that he was one of the boys who had resided with General Kellogg and had been partly reared by him. Certainly his after life showed the good results of right training in early days. Mr. Rockwell was another of those who were both farmers and mechanics. He was a highly ingenious man, and most useful in the community. Many farming tools and articles of furniture might still be gathered up about the town as mementos of his skill. He was the man thought of first as most competent and willing to tackle the job, when any plain work in wood or iron was needed. He was a good man too, of genuine piety, and never lending counten- ance to anything evil. . His son, Samuel N. Rockwell, now lives at Newington Center. At the old homestead resides his daughter Abbie, who is the wife of W. B. Dorman, a blacksmith.
The farm next south of the Rockwell place was at an earlier day the home of Elias Deming. He left three sons and two daughters. My recollections of them must be left to my next letter.
· Grinnell, Iowa, May 22, 1895.
XVI.
Elias Deming, who died in 1814, left three sons and two daughters. Mention has already been made of Enos and William, the two elder sons. William resided in the center of the town. My acquaintance with the daughters, Martha and Lydia, was but slight, as their church connection was with the Baptists at Wethersfield, but I heard and knew enough of them to warrant me in classing them with "the salt of the earth." One of them became the wife of Robert Francis, sr., late in his life.
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Jedediah Deming, the youngest son of Elias, inherited, with his sisters, the family estate, which lay just south of the Rockwell farm, in South Newington, and there he resided throughout his life. When I made his acquaintance, in 1834, he was a man 44 years of age, a widower with three children. As I was then boarding in the family of William Deming, his brother, I saw him often and learned to know him well, and greatly did I admire him for his modest manliness and great moral worth. He had married in 1815, Mary, the daughter of General Lusk, of whose four children one had died early; the others, Cornelia, Jedediah, Jr., and Hepsibah, were at home with their father. The first two were about entering their "teens;" the last was younger. In May of this same year, Mr. Deming brought to his home a second wife and a mother for his children. She was Miss Ann Wells, well known as an excellent teacher for many years at the Center School.
Upon the death of Deacon Levi Deming, in 1847, it seemed eminently fit that the good man's mantle should fall upon that other good man, kind, genial, active in good works, respected and beloved by all, his kinsman, Jedediah Deming. He held and honored the office throughout his long life. On Deacon Jedediah Deming's place were many large mulberry trees, which furnished food for the thousands of silkworms which he raised annually. He sometimes had as many as 60,000 of these, which, in favorable seasons, produced from twenty to thrity-five pounds of raw silk. It was the only enterprise of its kind in all the region, and visitors came from far and near to view the mighty marvel, the spinning of the delicate, shining fibres by those hideous, crawling creatures. Mr. Deming himself sometimes appeared in silk attire, for he had a famous suit of clothes made from the coarse odds and ends of the silk, which had been worked by hand into woven cloth.
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It was my great pleasure, in the year 1851, to entertain Mr. and Mrs. Deming at my own home in Illinois, for a brief but delightful visit. I took it as an especial honor that they were willing to go for some distance out of their route for the purpose, when they were upon the long and somewhat ven- turesome journey to the new State of Iowa, where Mrs. Dem- ing's two sisters were living. Mr. Deming died in 1868, and
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his wife soon followed him. Both went to receive the reward of noble and righteous living. The elder daughter married · William Wells. They lived worthy and useful lives, and when their work was done, passed over the river. Hepsibah was married in 1853 to Charles Stoddard, and, as I had already married into another branch of the same family, we now claimed cousinly relationship. After spending a few years in Newington, Mr. and Mrs. Stoddard became my neighbors in Illinois, where they made for themselves a pleasant home. But it was not many years before death separated them, and the widow re- turned alone to the home of her birth. East or West she has always commanded the respect of all who knew her.
Jedediah Deming the second was, when I first knew him, a manly boy, walking in the footsteps of his excellent father, whom he closely resembled in looks. He resembled him also in the ripe manhood of his maturer years, in his intelligence and strong principle. Coming into possession of the old farm at his father's death, he has lived there his steady, industrious, thrifty and successful life, adding to the acres of the estate, blessed with a happy home, and growing in favor with God and man. Difficult questions in church and society matters have been submitted to his judgment. Long ago he became one of the deacons of the church, and to this day he magnifies the office which he worthily fills. If such an honor were ever hereditary, we might say that he came to the dignity by in- heritance, for should we examine the records of the church, beginning with the year 1636, when Deacon John and Honor Treat Deming dwelt in Wethersfield, we should find that from that day to this, that line of the Deming family has furnished an almost unfailing supply of deacons for the church of God.
In 1846, the Deacon Deming of whom I have been speak- ing married Nancy A., daughter of Elisha Whaples, Jr., and two daughters were given them. Their happy wedded life came to an end in 1877, when the wife was called to enter upon the joys of the better land. Both daughters married. Alice the younger, became, in the year of her mother's death, the wife of the Rev. D. J. Clark, and their residence has been for many years in East Haven, where I learn that they are still much beloved by their church and people. Ellen, the other daughter, settled in Newington, and for some ten years now,
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she and her promising son, Jedediah Deming, have resided with her father, bringing happiness to his household and cheering his declining years. Mr. Deming brought a second wife to his home a few years ago. She was the widow of the Rev. Mr. Morris of Washington, D. C., where a part, or perhaps all, of their married life had been spent .. When I learned that she was the daughter of Franklin Griswold of Wethersfield, I felt that we were already acquainted, but it was not until some five years ago that I first met the charming lady. At that time I enjoyed, with my friend Kirkham, a most delightful call at the old Deming homestead. The two lovely women there, the wife and the daughter, seemed to fill the house brim- full of sunshine.
Newington people well know the retiring dispostion and the native modesty of their present Deacon Jedediah Deming, and the difficulty of getting from him any information about himself. I asked him, the other day, for some particulars as to his history, and what do you think he said? Though he sent a very kind, friendly reply, there was little, indeed, of in- formation about himself beyond the assurance that he might make confession of "many sins of omission and commission which would not look well in print."
So it is from quite another source that I have learned of the existence of a certain quaint little suit of old-fashioned clothes, to which belongs the first pair of trousers ever worn by this good deacon whose head now bears the snows of more than three-score years and ten. I wish that he would celebrate his next natal day with a birthday party, and that I might be among the guests. I should ask permission of Mrs. Deming or daughter Nellie, to bring from the ancient chest in the attic the tiny jacket and trousers, and I should ask my big friend to stand out in the middle of the room and hold up beside his full six feet of ripe manhood the funny little suit of faded and rust-stained clothes, measuring but thirty inches from neck to heel, which once enwrapped the figure of the embryo deacon. There we would make him tell us (for no boy ever forgets the sensations with which he first donned his "first pants!") with what pride he tossed aside the ignoble petticoats and slipped his chubby limbs into the bifurcated garment and strove to make those brief legs assume a manly air and stride as he
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sallied forth to display his masculine attire to his astonished grandfather. I don't believe he would forget to mention the kind thoughtfulness with which General Lusk crowned the happy day by slipping a silver sixpence into that depository of trousers, the small boy's pocket. Nor would he fail to lament the missing glory of a number of those two dozen purple glass buttons which originally ornamented the costume. If such an occurrence ever should take place, "may I be there to see"- and hear!
Grinnell, Iowa, May 28, 1895.
XVII.
The nearest neighbor to Jedediah Deming on the south was Leonard C. Hubbard. His wife was a daughter of Solomon Churchill. She was for many years an invalid, with little prospect of long life. Two years ago, however, she died at the age of 97, having survived nearly all the strong and vigorous who entered with her on the race of life, and having been pre- ceded by her husband to the spirit land by many years. Mr. Hubbard came to Connecticut from the Black River country in New York, where wild game greatly abounded, and where he had become a mighty hunter. Wild creatures of any kind were very rare in the more civilized region to which he came, and Mr.Hubbard was led to direct his hunter's skill towards the large flocks of pigeons which appeared in spring and autumn. These he caught by means of a huge net set beside a bed pre- pared and strewn with grain, to which flying flocks were lured by means of decoy pigeons, trained for the purpose. There was a good market for the birds, and the enterprise proved quite a prosperous one. Mr. Hubbard's children are now residents of Berlin and New Britain.
Near by was a large farm, on the turnpike, owned by Oliver Richards. Three sons and a daughter composed his family. The land was divided between the sons, and to their inheritance they added very considerably by purchase. The owners of that generation are now all gone, but two of the farms remain in the hands of descendants of Oliver Richards.
In the southwest part of the town, at the north end of West street, was the farm and home of one whom I well re-
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member, the late Erastus Latimer. He had been a school teacher in his earlier days, in Newington and adjoining towns. When he taught the South school it numbered seventy or more. Mr. Latimer had the gift of making himself popular with both parents and pupils. The latter he controlled by gaining their good will; he was friend as well as teacher, entering heartily into the sports of the boys out of school hours. When he took the bat the ball soared higher and farther than the largest boy could send it. But there was no play allowed in the school- room. Mr. Latimer believed in Solomon's medicine for naughtiness, and when occasion required he could apply the rod with a vigor and skill which left the patient with no longing for a second dose. By his death the community lost an in- telligent and influential member. The handsome property which he had accumulated was divided among Mr. Latimer's three children. Franklin C. Latimer is now to be found on the old place, which he owns. I am told that he walks in the footsteps of his honored father, "interested in the welfare of church and community, and contributing liberally to pro- mote their interests." When I last visited Newington, I was driving with a friend about the once familiar streets, and he checked the horse at the door of the Latimer home. A fine- looking lady with brilliant black eyes came to the carriage. I found she was the wife of Mr. Franklin Latimer. There was a familiar look in her face which interested me, but which I could not place in my memory. I asked her if Newington had always been her home. "Oh, yes," said she, "I am a daughter of William Wells." Then I knew that it was her grandmother in her best days, good "Aunt Katy Wells," who looked at me from her bright eyes. Mr. Latimer's other son, Charles, resided in Princeton, Ill., where he practiced medicine. I used to see him often while I was residing in a neighboring town. Eunice, the only daughter, became the wife of Deacon H. A. Whittlesey.
The father of Erastus Latimer occupied the place next south. His daughter and her husband, Lester Luce of Tol- land, resided with him. Old Mr. Latimer was known as an inveterate joker, and many stories of his merry tricks and practical jokes are still circulated, nearly half a century after his death. Mr. Luce succeeded to the ownership of the pro-
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perty. He was a man esteemed for his good judgment and generous disposition, which led him to be always ready to assist in enterprises which promised to benefit the community. He was also a good farmer, keeping many oxen, cows, and other kinds of stock. It is still remembered that he worked with his team in the construction of the first railway between Hartford and New Haven, about 1843-4. Mr. Luce's son Joshua, who lived in the old place, died in 1884, and his boy Charles now runs the farm. Henry, the other son, built a new house a little to the north of his father's home. He received a share of the farm, and continued in the business of farming throughout his life, which came to a close three years ago. He married Flora Francis, daughter of Erastus and Bertha Stod- dard Francis, with whom, through my wife, I have always claimed cousinship.
Selden Deming and his sister Jerusha owned the farm next south of that of Joshua Luce. Their father was a brother of Deacon Levi Deming. Selden Deming was an energetic, busy man. The management of his own property was not sufficient for his activity, and he found time to do a good deal of teaming for others. Then he cast his thrifty eye upon those splendid giant oaks and other monarchs of the forest-primeval which seventy years ago abounded about Newington. He bought and felled a large quantity of the timber suitable for ship building, which he delivered at Portland, twelve miles away, on the Connecticut River, where the business of building ships was then carried on. Probably we have him to thank that so few of those fine trees now remain to delight the eye and gladden the hearts of Newington dwellers.
Opposite, was the place belonging to Elizur Deming, who was like Thomas, the father of Selden, a brother of Deacon Levi Deming. Here representatives of three generations were born and lived. About twenty years ago the last of three *Elizur Demings died, and the property has gone out of the family.
Sylvester Webster lived at the extreme southwestern corner of the town. He was a bachelor of the typical New England type untiring in industry, thrifty and economical in habit, and fond of money. He lived to a great age, and saved a handsome
*He died August 27, 1876, aged 61.
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fortune. As money accumulated, he was accustomed to loan it out at 6 per cent., declaring that he wanted "no more and no less." Though somewhat eccentric and a little "close," he was strictly fair and honest in his dealings, and commanded the respect of all who knew him. The property descended to John Webster, a favorite nephew. I found him at the old place when I called there five years ago. He had thoroughly repaired the house, and the good wife's womanly touches had made it delightfully homelike. It was a great pleasure to me to find in that same good wife and mother one of my well- loved pupils of 1834-5. She was then a most interesting young girl, the daughter of Robert Francis, Jr. I remembered her well, and when we met, after a separation of fifty-five years, I saw that her hair was still dark as of old, and the general appearance was still that of Lydia Francis. Her children had grown to maturity, and nearly all had flown from the home nest. While I searched her features for the reminders of long ago, she closely watched mine, striving to catch expres- sions which would remind her of the immature young teacher of her young maidenhood, and as we chatted and laughed together each was able to see in the other the lineaments of long-departed youth. How happy I should be to be able to accept the cordial invitation which I then received to visit that pleasant family once more.
The present Newington meeting-house was built in 1797. It seems that the people were not wholly agreed as to its location. A small number were so disaffected that they with- drew from the Congregational Society and determined to build a church for themselves. With considerable effort they succeeded in erecting the body of the edifice, and for a time Episcopal church services were held there. But the interest both in the building and in the services soon passed away. The neglected structure, probably poorly constructed and with imperfect materials, after a time fell to the ground as the separate-church movement had long before collapsed. I do not know that any memorial of the enterprise now remains beyond the fact that the street, which had been named West street, has ever since been quite as often called Church street. Many a more important fact of history is thus imperishably embalmed in a name.
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I have taken much satisfaction in these fancied rambles about the south part of the dear old town, recalling my former knowledge of the inhabitants and extending that knowledge through the kindness of others. No more intelligent, enter- prising and industrious families were to be found in Newington.
Grinnell, Iowa, June 3, 1895.
XVIII.
The spring of 1834 found me at the home of Homer Camp, who had employed me to assist him in supplying his barn with the new sills which it was found to need. I look back upon that time as of great value to me, because of the opportunity it furnished me to become well acquainted with a man whom I have ever since held in the highest esteem for his sterling and admirable qualities. Mr. Camp had been a merchant in New Preston, Conn., but, having been so fortunate, a few years before, as to meet, and, after a time, to marry, the beautiful Delia Whittlesey of Newington, he soon after removed to the early home of his wife, and settled upon the Whittlesey farm in "Ten Rod." He was an intelligent and genial man, and a thorough gentleman in every respect. As we worked to- gether, side by side, fitting the new timbers to their places, the accomplished and experienced man of affairs chatted sociably and pleasantly with the raw, undeveloped lad, upon whose plastic mind he made impressions never to be affaced. He showed what seems to me still, as it did then, a remarkable knowledge of human nature and an especially keen insight into characters of his neighbors, the Newington people, whom he had known for only a few years. Nor shall I ever forget the charm of that melodious voice. In all the years of my long pilgrimage, I have scarcely heard another like it.
One of the tales which Mr. Camp related to me during those long days of close companionship, dwells in my memory yet, and, as it illustrates the man's characteristic shrewdness and good judgment, I will give it here.
A certain colored man, known to the neighborhood in general as "Bill," but whom Mr. Camp always spoke of re- spectfully as "William," worked on his farm, and boarded there, also; but went to his own home and family at night. I remember that we were beating the mortises, laboring to get
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the heavy beams in place, when I made some allusion to "Bill," who was at work in the field. "William is a good hand to work," said Mr. Camp, "but a little experience which I had with him last year, showed me that his fingers were a little too long. I managed, however, to save myself from loss, and without losing the man's services, too."
It seems that Mrs. Camp had observed, with her thrifty housekeeper's eye, that the family pork-barrel was getting low more rapidly than could be accounted for by what she knew to be the demands of her own family upon it. Mentioning the fact to her husband, she roused his suspicions respecting the absolute honesty of his laborer, "Bill." Requesting his wife to say nothing on the subject to anyone else, Mr. Camp quietly kept his eye on the outside door of the cellar. Just as darkness was coming on, the colored man, who had finished his supper and was about leaving for home, was seen to slip slyly into the cellar and return with a large piece of salt pork in his hand. Mr. Camp was not the man to rush forth and seize the thief with the stolen property in his possession, or to raise a great hue and cry over the matter. On the contrary he sat calmly looking from his window while "William" gently closed the cellar door and walked deliberately away with the generous provision for his rejoicing family. Then Mr. Camp simply fastened the cellar door, and bided his time. In due time William's year of employment came to an end and the day of reckoning arrived. The laborers on the farm were accus- tomed to receive from their employer certain supplies, such as flour, vegetables and fuel, which were charged to them and their value deducted from the wages due at the final yearly settlement. "Well, William," said Mr. Camp, "you have had so many bushels of potatoes, so much flour, so many cords of wood." To each charge mentioned, William, with an ob- sequious ducking of the woolly head responded, "Yes, sah, dat's right sah!" "But there is one thing, William, that we shall have to guess at as best we can. The pork, you know, that you have taken all along as you wanted it, without weigh- ing, about how much should you think there was in all, Wil- liam?" William stood the shock like a veteran, and replied coolly, "Well, Mr. Camp, sah! I guess I took about seventy- five pounds, sah."
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"Are you satisfied then to call it seventy-five pounds, William?"
"Yes, sah. Dat's far, sah. It was mighty good pork, sah!"
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