USA > Connecticut > Hartford County > Newington > Early days in Newington, Connecticut, 1833-1836 > Part 9
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It would be pleasant to mention the many interesting families that have dwelt, in recent years, in the various houses south of the point to which these reminiscences have brought us, but I must pass them over for the present. Deacon Jeremiah Seymour lived in the brick house where the post- office for Newington Junction is now kept. I count his family among my valued friends of the long ago. Mr. Seymour and his wife were on the sunny side of the half century. He was a most precise, methodical man, upright and strictly honest, conscientiously taking his part in all that pertained to the duties of church membership and good citizenship. Mrs. Seymour was of quite a different temperament, a cheery, com- fortable little body, and a fit complement to her husband's sterner type of character. She was a good mother, an ideal housekeeper, always looking out for the comfort of those around her, and she made a happy home. North Newington people now call for their letters in what was Mrs. Seymour's parlor. When I was last in the room I saw upon the floor signs of the use of that vile weed, whose presence in her parlor I am sure she would never have tolerated. Could she have be- lieved that her own dainty parlor, kept with such immaculate neatness, would ever sink to this?
The Seymour household was blessed with four children, all still at home when I first knew them. Wolcott, the eldest, was about my own age. He visited me in my Illinois home in 1837, and then went on into Iowa Territory, settling at Dan- ville, which became his permanent home. Numerous honors came to him in the course of passing years. He held the office of Magistrate for forty years, and represented his county in the State Legislature. Elizabeth became the wife of a son Walter F. Brown, of Zaccheus Brown, and shared his home. John D., who was for a time one of my pupils, remained near the scenes of his childhood. It was no mistake when he brought to his home as his bride a daughter of Roger Welles. I saw them both two years ago, still occupying the early home, and I saw that with them, as with myself, Time's graving tool had been busy. I am told that they have an attractive family of children, scattered now from Chicago to Chattanooga.
The youngest of the children of Deacon Seymour was Mary, a gem of a girl I thought her, when a child of 10 or 12.
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She sat among her mates in my schoolroom. She died early .in her married life at Tolland.
I have intimated that there had been a turbulent element in the North School in previous years, and I knew that sooner or later I should have to measure my strength with it. Be- lieving fully in the old adage, "Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do." I made special efforts to interest the large boys who were expected to give trouble in study, and gave them, as I thought, quite work enough to keep them from mischief. But they were not disposed to be studious, and as the weeks passed I could see that they were carefully watching the teacher and testing him, to see how far they might safely venture in disobedience I knew, too, that my employers were watching to see how matters would terminate. Parson Brace, with that fatherly care which he exercised over all the schools, questioned me rather closely one day with reference to my large boys, and there were signs of solicitude on the part of many of the parents. It was clear that a crisis was approaching and that the question of supremacy in the North School must soon be decided. I was but a boy of 22 myself, but I was determined that rule that school I would, or know a very good reason why. I stated to the unruly youths in the plainest of terms that no further violations of the rules of the school would be tolerated. The next morning, having brought another half-grown man to their support, they showed by an aggravated air of swaggery and defiance and an impudent persistence in their obnoxious practices, that they were ready for the fray. I, too, was ready. Mr. Camp's apple trees hard by furnished an abundance of the toughest of sprouts. My figure was not insignificant when size was the question, and I think I must have looked six inches taller than usual that day. I called the boys to the floor before my desk, and, to my surprise, they came promptly. Then I gave them a fatherly talk along the orthodox lines, winding up with an invitation to remove their coats. Just what the plan of the. rebels had been I never knew, but as they stood before me measuring me every now and then with their eyes, and glanc- ing furtively at the rods within reach of my long arm, I saw all the bravado gradually ooze out of them and a hang-dog look supplant the fire of insolent rebellion in their faces. Each
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bully became a cringing coward, as bullies always do before unshrinking determination, especially when backed by a fair measure of physical force. My address ended, the coats came off without delay, and I administered such chastisement as I deemed appropriate to the occasion, and that was also in accord with the practices and sentiments of the time and the community. It was my first and my last use of the rod at the North School. Henceforth, the master was unquestionably supreme, and, though the individual offenders never became the best of scholars, they were during school hours models of propriety. All the people seemed to say "Amen!" to the teacher's course, except, perhaps, the mother of one of the boys, who was deeply mortified, but I never knew that she blamed me. 'Squire Robert Francis, Sr., with whom one of the boys lived, sent me a letter of thanks the next morning, and re- quested me to repeat the dose, because the boy had played truant in the afternoon. Parson Brace asked me to come into his study and tell him the whole story. When I had finished he looked at me with his great, solemn eyes, and said: "You did right. It will do the boys good. They will carry the benefit of that punishment through life with them."
Grinnell, Iowa, March 10, 1897.
Six Weeks in Newington
XXIV.
In the early spring of this year, I planned to spend a part of the summer and autumn in dear old New England. The latter part of August I found myself at the home of my child- hood in Hollis, N. H., and spent several weeks there and in Massachusetts.
I was so much interested in the scenes of early days that I forgot that I was more than 82 years old, and struck out with much of my old-time vigor, but soon was obliged to call a halt, and even to take my bed.
As soon as I was able I came to Newington, but the journey proved too much for my strength, and soon after I reached Mr. Pratt Francis's, I was snugly tucked away in bed,
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where I had all the care and good nursing that skillful hands could give. In a few days the two good ladies of the house sat by my bed and told me of their plans for an entertainment on my account, as soon as I was able, and of the rides we were to have over the town, and I went to sleep happy with the pros- pect before me. Before very long I was awakened by the younger Mrs. Francis, who told me that lightning had set the barn on fire, and for my safety I must leave the house. With her help my trunk was hastily packed, and I was taken to the home of Mrs. Charles Francis, and kindly cared for by the family there, and Mrs. Kate M. Francis.
When morning came my old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Kirk- ham, came to take me to their own home, where I remained six weeks. If there is any one who does not know what good nursing is, let him go down to New England, and especially to that corner known as Newington, and learn what it is to have just the right "tuck" about the bed, the hot soap-stone at just the right moment, the pleasant words which make one forget the aches and pains, the cheerful countenance which "doeth good like a medicine." One can almost afford one sickness to experience this, especially if he can have Dr. Howard of Wethersfield at the helm. To those who so kindly cared for me during my sickness, I must forever remain a debtor.
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As soon as I was able I rode out, and was delighted to see the old homes once so familiar to me. The people on every side greeted me so cordially, and some whom I had not known waived all formality and introduced themselves. Surely I never felt so happy in a visit to Newington before. Cedar Mountain on the east, Talcott on the north and Farmington on the west, all stood there in their dignity, as of old. It seemed to me that the God of nature had never dressed old Cedar so beautifully as this autumn, for me to feast my eyes upon, and I never wearied in gazing upon it. Those who were riding with me often said, "How beautiful the mountain foliage is." How much more beautiful and wonderful it was to me, who had spent most of a life-time on the prairie! I presume many a man who has driven his tired and jaded horses over that mountain has wished it sunk to a level or into the sea. Squire Robert Francis and family for a life-time went over that
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mountain on the Sabbath to their Wethersfield church. One dark night he was coming home with his wife in the chaise and they were upset on the mountain side. I do not know what he thought or said on this occasion, but I do know what he said at another time when he was high up on the steep of the mountain and his sled load of wood got the start of him, and throwing him one side into the snow went down the steep alone, at breakneck speed. People have generally placed too little value on the acres of Cedar Mountain. God never makes mistakes. When by His almighty power those stones were heaped there, and when He caused the trees to spring up to cover and beautify the great hill, he knew that it was not alone to feast the eyes of his children, but that those stones would be wanted for the higher civilization of man, that they would be used to make good roads in the valleys below, and for other purposes, and still the mountain would be left.
When He caused the springs of pure water to flow down that mountain side, and for thousands of years to run to waste, He knew that some time those pure, limpid mountain streams, with all their health-giving power, would be needed for those who would dwell on the plains below. Now men begin to see as God saw, and have begun to utilize both. As I looked upon that mountain a few weeks ago, I said to myself, I wish some- one would compute for me the value of a mountain like that, on the prairie near my Iowa home. I was glad to learn while in Newington that an effort was being made, which was meet- ing with favor, to build a female seminary there, with aims as high as those of Mount Holyoke or Wellesley. Should such aims and expectations be realized, Cedar Mountain, so near, would be no small attraction to the ladies, who may become students there. Certainly Connecticut needs such an in- stitution as much as Massachusetts or any of the New England States, and what place can be more favorably situated than Newington ?
Just far enough out of Hartford, and surrounded by the best of influences, and with a prospect of the best of railroad accommodations, I was shown the plot of ground proposed to be donated by Mr. H. M. Robbins. No place could be chosen better adapted to the purpose. I devoutly hope this plan will be carried out, and that many will be induced to give
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$50,000 and $100,000 till the institution shall be richly en- dowed. May I not hope to live to see several hundred young ladies in attendance at such an institution in Newington? Newington is truthfully said to be a "staid old town," but it has not been without its steady improvement. As I looked at the church and houses about the town, this fall, and con- trasted them with those of 1833, as I first saw them, I noticed a wonderful difference, and thought, Newington has moved, and in the right direction. I have said in a former letter, that the church then had the plain, old-fashioned pews, and high, old-fashioned pulpit, with the "singing seats" in the east gallery. Now, the audience room is attractive, the old pews have given place to modern slips, with easy seats and nicely- carpeted floors. The platform and pulpit are of recent style, and are in keeping with the improvements of the present day. In the recess back of the minister's desk stands the organ, and seats for the singers are tastefully arranged around it. The organ is just adapted to the church, and as I listened to the melodious sounds drawn from it by the skillful fingers of Mrs. Ellen Deming, I could but contrast it with the instrument used by Mr. Joseph Camp, leader of the choir sixty years ago. That was a little pitch-pipe which could be carried in the pocket. If that pitch-pipe is in existence it should be preserved in the church, and its history written.
The church singing of to-day may be more artistic, but there were not one-quarter as many voices as were heard sixty years ago. Then the offerings of the church were taken up by Deacons Origen Wells and Levi Deming, probably in their hats; now by two young gentlemen who went up and down the aisles with a precision and grace I have rarely seen equaled. From the desk I heard the present minister, the Rev. Herbert Macy, preach with the true gosepl ring which I heard from the Rev. Joab Brace in the long ago. To this church edifice has this year been added a chapel, 52 by 35 feet, with all modern improvements, and beautifully furnished; a full account of which was given in The Times a few weeks ago.
Sixty years ago many of the houses in Newington were unpainted, and many painted red. White houses were almost the exception. Newington would present a sorry appearance if all the houses that have been built since I first saw the
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town were now removed. The Belden home was the first to be built; since then those of Deacon Jedediah Deming, Deacon Levi S. Deming, Mrs. David Robbins, the parsonage, Mr Lemuel Camp, Mr. Edwin Welles, Mr. Roger Welles, William Hubbard, Mr. Kirkham, Mr. J. E. Atwood, the Rev. Mr. Starr, Mr. H. L. Kellogg, John G. Stoddard and those of his sons, Mr. Robert Francis, John D. Seymour, Rufus Stoddard and others in the north part of the town, the owners of which I do not know. There is also a neat Episcopal church a little north of the depot. There has been a good deal of improvement in the building of larger and better barns than those of sixty years ago. The Newington people may have shared the fortunes of the country in the depreciation of their real estate, but have certainly advanced in education and morality, and are fully abreast of the times.
I cannot close this letter without stepping out of the borders of Newington, and saying a few words of the old his- toric town of Wethersfield, around which we had pleasant rides a few weeks ago. A balloonist who had made many ascensions in Connecticut once said as he was sailing over Wethersfield, "this is the prettiest town in the State," and I do not wonder at his remark. I lived there during the years of 1826 and 1827 with my uncle, Dr. Tenney.
Then there were many of the aristocratic families, de- scendants of old colonial times-the Chesters and Webbs, Judge Mitchell, Judge Williams, and the Bucks. Then there was Deacon Timothy Stillman and Deacon Ebenezer Stillman, besides a large number of families of that name. Joseph Hale and Richard Robbins were among the merchants. Deacon Willard lived at the south end of Broad street. His son was a long-time warden at the State Prison. Now his grandson, William Willard, with his family, resides in a beautiful home near the Buck residence. I have kept up an acquaintance with the Willard family in their generations since the Deacon Willard of 1826. By invitation, Mr. and Mrs. Kirkham and myself took dinner at Mr. Willard's in October. Around his table were their four children, the fourth generation of the family which I had known. Mrs. Willard was a Miss South- worth, and soon after their marriage Mr. and Mrs. Willard went to Grinnell, Iowa, where they resided a year or more.
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Now the daughter, the eldest child, who was born in Iowa, the "Hawkeye" State, has grown to womanhood, and presided
. with grace at the dining table in the absence of her mother, who was ill. The next, a son, is a clerk in a Hartford store, and the two younger are in school. The old brick church is said to be the oldest in the State, and yet presents a fine ap- pearance. Wethersfield is a grand old town, filled with in- telligent and wealthy people.
Grinnell, Iowa, November, 1895.
Stray Leaves From a Journey to the "Far West" in 1835
XXV.
This letter and perhaps one or two more which may follow are only incidentally connected with the. "Early Days of Newington." I have that manuscript, and it may find its way into print ere long, and possibly in permanent form. It includes the histories of the Stoddard families and those who reside in the north part of the town.
I have been often asked to write some account of a journey to the "far West," as Illinois was called, in 1835; to tell some- thing of this new, strange country, its inhabitants and how they lived, what part in the new life was taken by those who left the comforts and luxuries and culture of Newington and Wethersfield, and braved the dangers and privations of a pioneer life at that early day.
It was while I was teaching the North School in Newington in 1834 and 1835, that I made the acquaintance of Mr. Simeon Stoddard and his family. Mr. Stoddard had the "western fever" badly at this time, and his thoughts and ambition turned toward the young State of Illinois.
He had secured "Peck's Guide to Emigrants," a book which gave a very good account of the beautiful and fertile prairies of Illinois; of its timber, coal and stone, its rivers and climate, and all of the numberless good points of the growing young State. At that time more than three-fourths of the land of Illinois belonged to the United States government, and was for sale without restriction for one dollar and a quarter
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($1.25) per acre. As time went on I became more and more interested in Mr. Stoddard and his family, as well as in the State of Illinois, and often spent the evening there to read in "Peck's Guide" and talk of the Western country. I found all the family even to the quiet, dark-eyed eldest daughter in- terested in the far-off West.
Mr. Stoddard's wife had died a few years before this time, and Fidelia presided, queen of the household. Easy in man- ner, dignified, yet gentle, she filled for years the mother's place in the family, ministering to the father and the children younger than herself in a way worthy of one of more than her nineteen years. Beautiful indeed she seemed to me, and yet as I be- came more acquainted with her, I found that a beautiful character and rare mental qualities exceeded all else. Mr. Stoddard kindly invited me to go West with his party, and matters were finally decided on this wise, I was to go to Illinois in the spring (1835) and spy out the land. If my report was favorable, equal to Peck's representations, he would follow in the fall with his family. When this decision was reached, the younger children were elated, as may well be imagined. They urged me to go "and teach school for us there" as they said. Rollin, a lad of 16 years, said, "Write back about the game of that country, and I will bring a gun and a rifle." Lucy, 12 years old and the youngest of the family, was in high glee and said "Tell us all about the prairie flowers."
The other member of the circle made less demonstration, but I could see that she, too, listened approvingly. All this made a great change in my own plans for a life work, as I had already begun the study of medicine, which of course, I now gave up. As soon as my school closed I began my preparations to leave New England. Few now live who can fully under- stand the magnitude of this undertaking. As there were no railroads the journey must be made by water or stage. To go by the lakes to Chicago required a month at least. Chicago had then Fort Dearborn and two or three thousand inhabitants; from there to the settled parts of the State was more than one hundred miles of prairie without settlement.
Yet, Mr. Stoddard, who was an advanced thinker, said that he believed his children would live to see the day when a man could breakfast in Hartford on Monday morning and
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take supper in Chicago on Saturday evening of the same week.
Sixty-one years later, while two of his children were living, that trip could be made every twenty-four hours or less. On the twenty-fourth day of October, 1895, a special train left Chicago early in the morning on the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Railroad, and ran to Buffalo, five hundred and ten miles, in eight hours, and on to New York in time for supper and theatre the same evening.
Mr. Thomas N. Welles, son of Judge Martin Welles of Wethersfield, who had the year previous gone to Illinois and settled in Peoria county, advised me to go by the Pennsylvania Canal, the Ohio, Mississippi and Illinois rivers, which I finally decided to do. We do not look upon a journey around the world now as so great an undertaking as was this journey upon which I was about to begin. During the few years I had lived in Newington I had formed strong attachments to the people, and from the many kindnesses I had received, had reason to believe that I had made many friends. It was truly home to me. I have now the autograph album which was passed around among my friends just before I left Newington, in which were written not only their names but the kindest words of farewell, and best wishes for a prosperous journey. Now in my old age I love to turn over the leaves of this old book and read the names and the kindly words written. Alas, alas, those dear friends have almost all gone "over the river." The time of my departure was come. I had attended the old church and heard Mr. Brace for the last time; last calls were made and goodbyes said. Never can I forget the kind words of good Aunt Mary Stoddard or her tears as she said good-by. Like her it was; that life so full of good deeds and kindly acts; to-day, she is enjoying a rich reward in heaven. During my last call at Mr. Simeon Stoddard's, he handed me a very long list of questions about the new country to be answered after I had had opportunity of making an investigation. As I left this home for the last time they all gave me the encouraging assurance that I so much needed, that they would all certainly expect to join me in the fall in the beautiful land of the prairies. By invitation I went to Mr. Atwood's to spend my last night in Newington. A large part of the evening was spent in talking over my journey, the children being quiet and at-
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tentive listeners. In the morning Mrs. Atwood bade me farewell with her best wishes, and Mr. Atwood's last act of kindness was to carry me to Hartford and see me safely on board the steamboat Oliver Ellsworth, bound for New York. Soon our boat was under way, and the face of my friend grew dim and at length the waving handkerchief was lost sight of. Now the city of Hartford and Wethersfield were left behind and I turned to look into the faces of strangers. My first night was spent in New York, and the next day I made my way to Philadelphia by strap railroad and steamboat. Here was the great center of Western emigration, and the numerous opposition lines on the canal to Pittsburg and steamboat to St. Louis were at war, and were giving reduced rates. As I went up Chestnut street I saw this announcement in startling letters, "Fare to St. Louis three dollars, John Cameron, Agent." I went into the office and found it was really true, and after satisfying myself that it was a reliable company, bought a ticket for at least 1,500 miles for $3 and board when on the canal boats. The next morning I took the railroad for Colum- bia, ninety-five miles distant, where we were to take the canal.
This was probably the longest piece of railroad in the United States, and the whole distance was made in one day. When we reached the canal boat, we found that it was crowded to double the capacity of the accommodations. There were not even berths enough for the women and children, and the men must spend the nights on the tables, in chairs, or on the floors. We were literally packed in like herrings, and it was almost impossible for the cooks to feed us. On and on we went, drawn by horses, which sometimes, but rarely, struck into a slow trot. It was interesting to note the difference in disposition of men under these somewhat trying circumstances, and I had plenty of time to make a little study of it. Growls from some, laughter from others, as they tried to look at the bright side. I chose the latter as associates, and made some very pleasant acquaintances as the days wore on. We finally reached Hollidaysburg, at the foot of the Alleghany Moun- tains; there we were drawn up the mountain on cars by a stationary engine on the top, and let down the inclined plane, on the other side, the same way. Now, we were transferred to another canal boat, and were off for Pittsburg, which city
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