USA > Connecticut > Hartford County > Newington > Early days in Newington, Connecticut, 1833-1836 > Part 8
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In "Colburn's Mental Arithmetic" (that excellent work, which I believe has never been surpassed), I had two fine classes; and there were classes, too, in geography, grammar and history. Reading and spelling were also among our daily exercises, and the teacher must not only be qualified to in- struct his pupils in writing, but also to keep the twenty or thirty goose-quill pens in repair by means of his sharp pen- knife. Little tots of 4 and 5 years old came to learn their A, B, C's, and I must turn from explaining the hard questions in "Daboll's" to call to my knee the timid little girl in her first schooldays, and try to induce her faltering tongue to spell b-a ba, and lead her gently after many trials to the proud satisfaction of spelling all alone that interesting word, b-a-k-e-r, baker.
I "boarded round" with my pupils, and an excellent plan it was, much as we make fun of the ancient custom in these modern days. The thorough acquaintance thus brought about between teacher and pupil and parent was of the very greatest value. It led to friendly relations between them; it gave the teacher an insight into the character of his scholars, which is impossible without some knowledge of their environment, and in many ways promoted his usefulness and efficiency. I re- member that the size of my school and the length of the term gave me, by simple division, the privilege of boarding three days and a half with each child in the school. We had only a half holiday on Saturday, and the forenoon of that day was devoted to the study of the Assembly's Catechism, which every New England child was expected to thoroughly master and carry forever in his memory. I was greatly pleased with my little school and very happy in my work.
Passing on now to mention others of the families residing in the northern part of the town, I recall the old colonial dwelling of Erastus Francis at the corner of the cross-road north of the home of Cyrus Francis. The house was already old at that time, and it has long since disappeared, but it was then a pleasant, homelike place, and sheltered in comfort the
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little family of Erastus and Bertha Stoddard Francis. I boarded with them the length of time allotted to one pupil, and there as elsewhere enjoyed the good living and kind at- tentions which were the country teacher's lot. The tenderest of the chickens, the choicest bits of pork and beef, the richest of mince and pumpkin pies were brought out for him. He lived upon the fat of the land, and the very best bedroom was none too good for his repose.
In the next house north lived Lester and Catherine Hunn with their one daughter. Their older children had already gone out to make their own way in the world. One of the sons I saw about the year 1848 in Buffalo, where he had a small store. The next house, still to the north, was the home of Captain Daniel Willard. He was the third to bear and honor-each in his generation-the name of Daniel Willard, and I am told that the worthy name has been steadily handed down in that branch of the family until the seventh Daniel has but just taken to himself a wife. He, however, dwells far from the home of his ancestors in another State. The Captain Willard of sixty years ago and his good wife were somewhat past middle age, but still active and prominent in church and society. Their four children then all at home. Rhoda, Daniel H. and Elizabeth had finished their school days. William F. was my schoolmate in the Academy, and for him I formed a strong attachment. · He was a fine scholar, a bright, genial youth, full of life and spirit. Through my association with him and with his brother Daniel, whom I was accustomed to meet in the Bible class, I became familiar with the family, and greatly enjoyed their society. Captain Willard was a most intelligent and interesting man. A farmer all his life, he was also a teacher, and had presided over the Newington North School nearly every winter for the twenty years pre- vious to 1830. The boys and girls who had grown up under his tuition were certainly a credit to him. He had antiquarian tastes also, and took great delight in the study of the early history of his native town. No man, it is said, has done more to throw light upon obscure periods of that history, while there is much of unpublished matter resulting from his researches yet to be given to the public. Captain Willard was the efficient superintendent of the Newington Sabbath-school, and
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a ready and interesting speaker. Through his mother, Rhoda Wells, he was descended from the famous Sir Robert Wells, * of whose family I shall have occasion to speak later.
Soon after I left Newington for the West, Daniel H. Willard bought the Lester Hunn place which he fitted up as a pleasant · home for his bride, Maria Deming, whom I have previously mentioned. Among the pleasures of my frequent visits after Newington was no longer my home, were the calls which I was wont to make upon this well-mated couple. One after another four bright boys came to add to their joys. The elder Captain Willard lost his wife soon after I left Newington, and, with his daughters, he removed to Hartford. William F. Willard made no mistake when he chose for his wife my early friend, Frances, the youngest daughter of "Aunt Katy' Wells. Their home was in Hartford also, and there the beau- tiful widow still resides with her dutiful son, William A. Wil- lard. His aunt Elizabeth is also an inmate of his home.
In the year 1857, I was attending the State Fair at Peoria, Ill., and came unexpectedly upon my old friend, Daniel H. Willard. He was making a tour through the West, visiting the State fairs in several States. I had the pleasure of a visit from him at my own home before his return to New England, and remember that he said: "I wish General Kellogg could visit you here."
Mr. Willard and his wife led a busy, industrious life upon their highly-cultivated farm at Newington, but they had time also to enjoy what life could give to persons of their fine social gifts and ample means. I have been told that these were used for the pleasure of their neighbors as well as for their own, for they shared with others the delights of their afternoon carriage drives and their entertaining conversation. Their four sons were in the vigor of early manhood when the first gun was fired on Fort Sumter and the days that tried men's souls were upon us. The fervor of youthful patriotism could not be restrained, had the parents wished, and all four sons were given to the Union cause. One, Eugene, was borne to a soldier's honored grave. "He died that the nation might live." The brave and noble mother went alone and brought her youngest son home from Petersburg on a stretcher.
*An error, as later investigations in England show.
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My last meeting with Mr. Daniel H. Willard was in the winter of 1867, when, with my wife, I visited him. Mr. and Mrs. Willard took us in their own conveyance to Hartford, and then for a visit to the State Prison at Wethersfield, of which Mr. Willard was a director. A former prisoner was giving a feast to the prisoners on that day, and distinguished speakers from various parts of the State were present. The festivities interested us so long that we did not reach home until 10 o'clock in the evening, but we found a hot oyster supper spread for us, and the warm, elegantly-furnished guest chamber ready for our reception. Fire devoured the beautiful home not long after, and ere long the father and sons were cut down, only one now remaining. He has become eminent among the most eminent of the medical profession in one of our largest cities, and from his home, tenderly watched over and cared for, his beloved mother entered into rest. She sleeps in an honored grave, but her influence yet lives, and her work will last through many generations. Soon after her death, in 1888, the "Sarah Maria Deming Willard bed for crippled children" in the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania was endowed. From this nucleus has been built up an orthopaedic depart- ment with beds becoming constantly more numerous, and already hundreds of children, poor and helpless, have been rendered capable of self-support, with all its attendant com- forts and happiness. The work still enlarges, and, as a result, there is now nearly completed a hospital which will each year extend its blessings-her blessings-to hundreds.
· Grinnell, Iowa, August, 1895.
XXII.
In my last published letter under the above title I gave some reminiscences of Captain Daniel Willard and his family, and in again taking up my pen I naturally recall that near the residence of Mr. Willard, a little to the north and on the opposite side of the street, lived, in 1835, the family of Orrin Chapman. Besides the parents there was then a daugh- ter, Sarah Anne, and a son, Robert. The former was in the attractive period of opening womanhood. She married Wil- liam W. Roberts, and, for the few years of life which remained to
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her, resided in Hartford. Robert, the son, a lad of some 16 years, was one of the pupils in my school, and I have pleasant recollections of having boarded for a few days with the family. Mr. Chapman was one of the thrifty traveling traders who in those days spread the name of the wooden nutmeg State far and wide. Not that he sold wooden nutmegs, Heaven forbid! He was too honest a man for that. But various Yankee products of genuine and worthy character were to be pur- chased from his peddler's cart. Great was the fame which Connecticut clocks were then beginning to win throughout the South and West, and fat were the profits which swelled the peddler's pockets. Mr. Chapman spent much of the year in traveling through the South selling clocks and other wares.
The dwelling next north was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Hiram Stoddard and their children. The parents were scarce- ly yet in middle life, and there was a lively group of young children. I remember one bright little boy from the number, Heman F. who was enrolled among my scholars, but who sickened and died in the early winter .* The funeral exercises were conducted at the home by good Father Brace. The school attended in a body, and their teacher recalls with some satis- faction, even after a lapse of more than three score years, that the children were commended by the pastor for their orderly conduct. Mr. Stoddard lived to an advanced age. I remember an interesting talk which I had with him shortly before the rail- way accident which caused his death. So far as I have learned, his children grew up with a reputation among their neighbors for intelligence and enterprise. John G. has now a pleasant home on or near the old school-house lot. It is tastefully sur- rounded with fruit and shade trees, and not far off is the resi- dence of his son. Another son of Hiram Stoddard was lured from the comforts of his quiet Newington home, to the east of his father and brother, by the overpowering attractions of the great West.
Supposing ourselves to be still walking northward along the country road, we come now to the house where dwelt Colo- nel Joseph Camp and his family. The colonel had had in his younger days an honorable military career, but that was now past, and the warrior had settled down to a quiet and happy
*He died December 11, 1834, aged 5 years.
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domestic life. Like many a Newington bachelor whom I can recall, he had postponed those serene experiences until youth and its tumultuous joys had long departed. I boarded in the family when the colonel must have been some 50 years of age, and he had only a year or two before brought home Miss Lydia Francis as his bride. I have already mentioned Colonel Camp as the leader of the singing in the Sabbath services. He was an excellent citizen, and showed in many ways his devotion to the best interests of the town. At the time of my familiar acquaintance with the family there was a little Joseph, too small for school. He has "stayed by the stuff," and in the same house where I saw him in 1834-5 he dwells to-day with his charming wife and family. There was also a niece of the colonel, Miss Marietta Wells, a young lady of about 20, who was counted among the best Newington girls. Some four years later she married the Rev. Reuben Gaylord, a pioneer Christian missionary in the Territory of Iowa. Mr. and Mrs. Gaylord labored faithfully together for more than twelve years laying foundations for the Christian civilization of the grand State of Iowa; then the divine call led them far- ther West into Nebraska Territory, while in similar labors Mr. Gaylord spent the remainder of his useful life. He organized the first Congregational church in Nebraska, and, making Omaha his headquarters, he labored with single-hearted de- votion to the great object for which he lived until death came, a few years ago. The wife still lives at Omaha, where it was my pleasure to meet her two years ago. She has fitly crowned her long and active life by preparing and publishing in these recent years of widowhood and retirement an interesting and valuable life of her husband, in which the varied experiences of a pioneer home missionary family are vividly set forth.
I must not forget to mention the two maiden sisters of Colonel Camp, who also passed their lives under his hospitable roof. Misses Anna and Alma Camp were women admirable in character and useful in the parish. That was none the less true of Miss Alma that she was a cripple and a life-long invalid. Her sore affliction had developed in her one of those sweet, patient, trustful, spirits often found among those who bear a peculiar burden of suffering.
And now I come to the home of my early and valued
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friend, Mr. H. L. Kellogg. Even yet I can hardly make it seem right to place him elsewhere than in the well-known Kellogg mansion on Cabbage Hill, where I first saw him-a boy in his 'teens-more than sixty years ago. Those were bright, sunny days, Laurens. I labored on the farm-we labored together through the week. On the Sabbath, I, with the congregation, listened to your melodious tenor voice from among the singers of the choir. Our lives flowed on pleasantly together. Once, and once only, was there ever a disagreement between us. That was on this wise: We were down in the Williams lot picking apples, and, boy-like, fell to pelting each other with the rosy fruit. I was the stronger, and probably put too much power into the sport. No doubt I stung you severely. At all events I saw the angry blood rush to your face as you exclaimed indignantly: "You old New Hampshireite, you!" I felt rather guilty, but I nevertheless retorted with some pungent remark about a wooden nutmeg. However, neither of us was willing to let the sun go down upon his wrath, and our real regard for one another was not im- paired. Though I still love to think of you as that pleasant associate of the days when we were both in our vigorous young manhood, I must admit that you are now something in the patriarchal line. Let me see, there is now under your spreading roof your good wife, who was the daughter of Homer and Delia Whittlesey Camp, and the son who is the staff of you old age, Henry Laurens, Jr. But that is not all. The son, too, has taken to himself a wife whose amiable and cheery disposition sheds sunshine and happiness all about her. At that I do not wonder, for she is the daughter of my good friends, John S. and Harriet Atwood Kirkham. How well I remember her mother among my pupils sixty years and more ago. What a gem of a girl she was,-what a bright, studious scholar,- how prompt in all her recitations! I fancy I see her now in the spelling class, always eager for the hard words that carried her to the head of the class. There sitting in her carriage, is that blessed baby, Harriet Atwood Kellogg, representing the third generation of your household, and the unfailing joy of all. You must feel something as did the venerable patriarchs of early Bible days, standing at the head of their tribes. But you and I are growing old, Laurens, we are not far from the
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River. But may you be spared these many years while your . soul dwells in the Land of Beulah, and when you pass over to the Better Land may the waters be neither deep nor cold !*
Across the street from the home last described, on the top of the hill, stood the North School house, a plain, un- pretending building, furnished with simple pine desks and seats of home manufacture, for those were the days before school-seat factories existed. Long had that little schoolhouse stood upon the hill and many were its hallowed associations with the good men and women who had been teachers there, and the much larger number who had received their early education within its walls. Into that schoolroom I came as teacher in the fall of 1834, feeling somewhat abashed and anxious in view of the famous records of some of my prede- cessors. One of these was Allen Stoddard, who had been greatly beloved by his pupils. Captain Daniel Willard had also wielded the ferule there, perhaps for the larger part of the thirty winters which he had spent in teaching. He was an intelligent man, ready and apt to teach. I have heard many of his pupils speak of the days of his administration, and they never failed-even though years enough had passed to sprinkle their heads with white hairs-to mention that he held strong opinions upon the danger of sparing the rod. His views of discipline were those of his time and those of the parents of his scholars.
For two years previous to my undertaking the school the teacher had been a good, quiet, gentle man, with very little of a General Jackson in his make-up,-so little in fact, that when certain of the larger boys almost literally ran over the poor man, he saw nothing better to do than to sit helplessly down and weep over it. On the first morning I met some forty pupils, every family in the district being represented except two. I believe that there was never a brighter, better be- haved set of children gathered in a Newington school house. They showed that they came from careful, cultivated homes. Schools were not graded then. I had all ages, from the little tot in the primer to boys approaching manhood-the very boys, too, who had drawn the tears from the eyes of the former teacher. I began my work with a love for it and an ambition
*He died June 3, 1895, aged 79 years.
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to succeed. Certainly I did not spare myself, and I look back upon it now as a happy winter's work. I taught Daboll's Arithmetic, Colburn's Mental Arithmetic, also, (and no better book has ever taken its place), geography, grammar, reading, writing, history, and spelling. One busy half-hour was given each day to the making and mending of the twenty or more pens needed by those learning to write. Of course the pens were goose quills, furnished by the flocks of geese with which the town was well supplied. Once each week we had com- positions and declamations; on Saturday forenoons, I taught the "Assembly's Catechism," and about one evening in a week we had a spelling school. This was the winter's routine.
Grinnel, Iowa, January 18, 1897.
XXIII.
During that school year of 1834-35 I circulated about among the people of the North District, boarding with the various families represented in my school for a longer or a shorter time, according to the number of pupils from each. My memory loves to linger about those pleasant days-the delightful acquaintances made, which often ripened into warm friendships; the kindly urging to remain longer than the allotted time; the thoughtful invitations to dinner from those residing near the schoolhouse, saving the young teacher the long mid-day tramp to his more remote boarding place; the cheery evenings in the different homes round the great open fires, and all the simple comforts and gentle courtesies which gathered round the New England home life of two generations ago. Teachers of to-day know little of the charm which lightened the labors of those early pedagogues. They may smile at our quaint "ways" and our limited acquirements, of our ignorance of evolutionary science and of scientific "child- study," but I venture to say that for real satisfaction in our work, and for real success in giving to our pupils that measure of education which we undertook to give, and which time and place demanded, we would not yield place to one of them. At least many a man and woman of learning and influence in after years gained his or her first impulse toward scholarship,
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first thirst for knowledge, in a little New England district school.
The "Master" was an honored personage in those days. Preparations for his suitable reception were made beforehand. The best bedroom was appropriated to his use, with its fat feather bed, its snowy linen and warm homespun blankets. Generally, it is true, there was neither stove nor register nor radiator in the room, but on cold nights the comforting warmth of the indispensable warming pan dispelled every trace of chill and soothed the sleeper to quiet dreams. All good things were heaped upon the table to tempt the schoolmaster's appetite. Chickens, fattened to exactly the last grain of wheat, went cackling to execution, that they might come smoking from the pot or the oven to delight his palate. The fatted calf was sacrificed without waiting for any returning prodigal, and never was such delicious rye bread as came from the depths of those yawning brick ovens, or such toothsome. pies and cakes as Newington housewives knew how to con- coct, to say nothing of rosy apples sputtering before the fire, flanked by foaming pitchers of cider to give sparkle and zest to the merry talk which went on in the long winter evenings. Ah! would I were once more a Newington schoolmaster, "boarding round!"
Mr. Richardson then resided on the Lowrey Seymour farm, next the north line of Newington on the West Hartford road. I became well acquainted with his family, for there were many of them, and the rate of three and a half days to each scholar kept me with them longer than with most of the families. I remember still what a pleasant time I had there and what pride the children seemed to take in introducing their teacher to their home.
A little to the south was the old Seymour farm, then occupied by Mr. Theodore Seymour, familiarly called "Uncle Thode." He was past middle life and unmarried, his two maiden sisters, also past their youth, making up his family. I recollect "Uncle Thode" as a quiet, industrious man, con- scientious and upright, always in his place in the meeting- house on the Sabbath, and faithfully contributing his just share to all good objects.
Not far to the east, on a pleasant spot of ground, stood the
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south-fronted house where Mr. and Mrs. David Hunn resided . during all their married life. In the characteristic Newington and New England fashion, they kept the even tenor of their systematic way, accumulating, year by year, some little store of worldly goods. Albert was their only child-a boy of about my own age, and in the same Bible class at Sunday- school. He remained at home, and inherited the farm from his parents. He became an enterprising man with an apti- tude for business, which led him to add to his property. An inclination for politics, moreover, led him twice to a seat in the State Legislature. His wife was a Mrs. Hart .* I remember her as a somewhat tall and stately lady, and I recall vividly the bashful tremors with which, in my verdant days, I once acceded to a request of Mrs. Kellogg that I should escort her home to her brother-in-law's, Mr. Elisha Whaples's, on a certain evening. Both Albert Hunn and his wife died some years ago, leaving no children, and the home came into the hands of Mr. Shubael Whaples, son of my old and esteemed friend, Elisha Whaples. When I was last in Newington, in 1895, I called at the home of the latter and then met for the first time his interesting wife and daughter. Rather to my surprise, and very much to my interest, I learned that the home of Mrs. Whaples's childhood had been in Illinois, some twenty miles north of my own home of many years, at Ke- wance. She had much that was entertaining to me to say of her early life in that new country in the midst of prairie chickens and wolves and deer. She knew, too, many of the old settlers of that region who were my own familiar acquaintances.
Still farther to the east stood what was called the Andrews house, a red structure with a front two stories in height, but, as in many of the old New England houses, the roof sloped steeply down at the rear, so that the hinder part consisted of but one story. In the year I speak of, a family named Andrews oc- cupied the house. The one daughter, Maria, just blooming into womanhood, helped to make up the good society of the town. Mr. Warner lived in this house later. He was the father of the well-known Norman Warner of Kensington, a carriage manufacturer, famous for his energy and executive ability.
*She was Minerva C. Rogers.
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