USA > New Hampshire > Hillsborough County > Antrim > History of the town of Antrim, New Hampshire, from its earliest settlement to June 27, 1877, with a brief genealogical record of all the Antrim families > Part 17
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It was with extreme gratification that I received the kind invitation of your committee to be present on this very rare and very interesting occasion, - a pleasure of which I should very unwillingly have been deprived. As I have already intimated, my desire was to be a hearer and learner of your history from others, rather than to take any prom- inent part in the exercises of the occasion myself, for which I am not qualified, either by literary attainments, or by a knowledge of the history of your town, especially in its details, which are of chief interest on an occasion like this. Although a native of the town, I left it in early childhood, and my lot has been cast far from it, in another State. But I thankfully accept your greeting of welcome, and am here to claim my birthright, and to " stand up and be counted " among the sons of Antrim, - a privilege and an honor in which I have always felt a pride, and that feeling, I assure you, is re-enforced and brightened by the surroundings of this meeting. Indeed, it always occurs to me when I visit Antrim, and never more sensibly than on this visit, that my leaving it was a mistake, - a mistake, however, for which I was not accountable. New Hampshire is proverbially said to be " a good State to emigrate from," but I have always found it to be a most delightful State to visit, - especially this town of Antrim. These beautiful hills, by which we are surrounded,
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were among the objects which first greeted my young eyes. They have never been forgotten, but have ever been dear to me, and will be among the last of earthly scenery to fade from my memory.
It is both a duty and a pleasure to meet you, my brothers and sisters, and join with you in this family gathering; to greet this good old town, our common mother, now a hundred years old, yet beaming in perennial beauty and youth, smiling in every feature to welcome her children as they gather around her, to celebrate this, her centennial birthday.
I have been accustomed, from year to year, to visit this my early home, a stranger to nearly all its inhabitants, calling upon the few remaining acquaintances of my father's family when they resided here; but year by year the number has diminished, and now I find most of their names " grav'd on the stone " in your several places of burial. In my visits I have never failed to make a pilgrimage to the ancient cemetery on the hill above us.
" Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep."
There in unknown graves rest some of my ancestors and other rela- tives, and I have looked in vain for any indication of the particular spot occupied by their dust; nor has any one now living, relative or stranger, any knowledge or recollection of it. In my wanderings and musings among the graves, I have sometimes thought, that, with a hammer and chisel in my hands, I might easily be mistaken, by the readers of Walter Scott, for "Old Mortality " himself, renewing and recutting the epitaphs upon the headstones of the old Scotch Covenanters. In these wanderings, I find myself literally fulfilling what may now be considered a prophecy, uttered by Rev. Dr. Whiton, in his farewell to the old meeting-house, December, 1826. He said : " In the progress of years, even though this house should not be removed by the hands of men, yet its walls, already dilapidated, must totter and fall. Still, this spot, consecrated by so many sacred associations, will long retain a peculiar interest. Unborn generations will remember it as having once been holy ground. Tradi- tion will hand down something of its history to those who shall live in this place after the very name of each one of us shall have been totally forgotten. Pointing to this eminence, they will say, 'There stood the first house of prayer erected in this place; there our fathers worshiped ; in yonder burying-ground sleeps their dust;' and tho' no business may call the traveler here, yet a contemplative spirit will invite, now and then, an individual in future generations, to ascend this hill to examine the moul- dering monuments of the dead, and to indulge imagination in recalling the scenes of an age then past and gone."
I suppose, Mr. President, that I am not the only one who, uncon- sciously, has already verified these predictions.
The little, old, unpainted house in which I was born, in which my early years were spent, and which was to me the dearest spot on earth, disap- peared many years since, and the place is now occupied by the very neat and attractive cottage of your townsman, Mr. Kelsea. The elm-tree, -
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small as I recollect it, shading the well, where hung "the old oaken bucket," is now a stately and most graceful tree of some two feet in diam- eter. That house, as long as it stood, was an object of my love and veneration, and I always visited it with peculiar interest. On one of my visits I found it occupied by strangers, who, however, knew by whom it had formerly been inhabited, for, on my asking the privilege of going into all the rooms, - they were not very numerous, - leave was granted, and the lady of the house, wondering, I suppose, at the enthusiasm I mani- fested, expressed the opinion that I was either a lunatic, or an Adams. The old school-house, too, where they taught my first " ideas how to shoot," - which stood opposite to the end of the road leading westward from the two churches in the South Village, was long since removed, and its site is now occupied, very nearly, by one of those churches. My first teacher was the late Hon. Daniel M. Christie, afterwards one of New Hampshire's most eminent jurists. He taught that school the winter of 1814-15, and also the succeeding winter, I think. The intervening summer it was taught by Miss Fanny Baldwin, - afterwards Mrs. Dr. Burnham, - who was my first female teacher. I was probably the youn- gest of the winter scholars. Among the older, were Luke Woodbury, afterwards, for several years, judge of probate for Hillsborough county, deceased many years ago; George W. Nesmith, afterwards, and during the entire constitutional term, chief justice of the supreme court of New Hampshire, and whose absence on this occasion is very much regretted by all; and Clark Hopkins, who rejoices all by his presence, and no one more than myself, as he is the only one whom I am able to recognize as a school-fellow. There may be one or two other scholars of that school, and of that day, present, - possibly more, - but, if so, we are mutually unknown to each other. More than sixty winters have scattered their , frosts upon our heads since we were school-fellows; many are disperse d to various parts of the country; but more have gone to " the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns."
I wish here to allude to a custom of that school at that time, which, on . a retrospective view, seems at least remarkable. At the examination at the close of the winter term, the ashes which had accumulated during the winter -and it was not a small quantity - were sold at a potash manufactory in the immediate neighborhood, and the proceeds invested in rum, sugar, gingerbread, raisins, etc., at the store; and teachers, scholars, and visitors, including the ministers, all united in a general symposium. This I suppose was found to be " a custom more honored in the breach than in the observance," for I was informed, from an authen- tic source many years since, that it was practiced but for a very few years. It is one of the customs of those early times, of which we may not boast except in its abandonment.
One feature, however, in the school-house landscape still remains, - the brook just west from the school-house, where we thoughtless boys -- and girls, too -during the noon intermission, in the sultry summer days, were accustomed to wade, sometimes for the refreshing coolness of the stream, but oftener for the fun of splashing each other with water. The bridge, and each rock in the bed of the stream above it, seem to me at
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this day just as they did more than sixty years ago. And now that I have got into the brook, I will follow it up to the scene of a very notable event in my life. In my fifth year, as I remember, hearing some older boys tell of their wonderful exploits in fishing, I caught the piscatorial infection, and could not be satisfied till I had tried my luck. Accordingly my mother rigged me out with a fish-pole, something like a long whip- handle, which I think it was, attached a line to it of her own making, extemporized a fish-hook from a pin and baited it for me. With this offensive gear over my shoulder, I took leave of my friends and the pa- ternal roof, and wended my way westward to the aforesaid brook in quest of adventures. In some previous age a large tree had fallen across this stream, and in the process of time had gradually settled into the ground, till it became a dam, over which the stream poured, forming, and falling into, a basin below. Standing on the end of this log, I threw my hook into this basin or pool of deep water, when the bait was at once taken by a trout, which I was about to say was instantly landed; but that would not be in strict conformity with the facts. It was withdrawn from its native element, elevated in the air, and carried dangling at the end of my line, like a flag or pennon, to grace my triumphal and very rapid march back to head-quarters. Achilles, dragging Hector at his chariot wheels, did not feel more exultant than I did on this occasion of catching my first fish. I have usually, when in town, visited the place and stood on the old log; but the last time I was there the log had decayed, its ends only remaining imbedded in the bank on each side of the stream.
Among the cherished recollections of these early years, are those of my school-books. I have at home a copy of each book used by me during all my school-days, - a collection to which I find myself frequently refer- ring, with more interest, perhaps, than when it was my duty to study them. Those in use here by scholars of my age were, first, thie "New England Primer," from which we learned the alphabet, connected with, and made attractive by, the accompanying wood-cuts and verses, commencing with " In Adam's fall we sinned all," and ending with " Zaccheus he did climb the tree, his Lord to see." There was also a picture representing the mar- tyrdom of John Rogers at the stake, in presence of his wife and an uncer- tain number of children. But, in the estimation of our orthodox seniors, the little volume was chiefly valued as being the only book among us that contained "The Assembly's Shorter Catechism," of which every scholar was expected to know the answers, from the question " What is the chief end of man? " to " What doth the conclusion of the Lord's prayer teach us ?" The young children understood very little of the meaning of these answers at the time; but they learned the " form of sound words," which was of great value to them in riper years. Second, " The Ameri- can Spelling Book, by Noah Webster, Junior, Esquire," from which we were taught to spell words of two or three letters, and from that up to full-grown words of seven or eight syllables, -" words of learned length and thundering sound." Here, also, we learned the sounds of vowels and consonants, punctuation, numerals, abbreviations, and other element- ary principles, which were quite as thoroughly taught then, I think, as in more modern times. But the great attractions of the book were the
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fables, - each headed by a square wood-cut, which we could understand, and ending with a " moral " which to us was not always so clear. . Among these fables, " The boy that stole apples " came first. This was a case of conflicting claims between him and the " old man," touching some fruit, which was, after some very powerful arguments, settled in favor of the latter. The next, I think, was " The country maid and her milk-pail." She appeared to be surveying, with woful visage, the contents of her overturned pail, flowing upon the ground at her feet, and the ruin of a plan quite as reasonable as many speculations of the present day involv- ing millions, and by far more honest than some of them. Moral: " Don't count chickens before they are hatched." Then followed "The cat and the rat," undoubtedly the origin of the phrase, " A cat in the meal," much used in these days by our very astute and far-seeing politicians. Moral: "Caution, the parent of safety."
Then there was " The bear and the two friends." These two friends, when entering a forest through which they were to travel, formed an. " alliance offensive and defensive " against danger, which soon made its appearance in shape of a large bear, when one of them, who was very agile, went " up a tree " out of the way of harm, leaving his less active friend to arrange matters with the bear, as best he could. By a shrewd piece of deception, which, however, I have always considered justifiable, he succeeded in humbugging the bear and getting clear of him, besides learning from him the valuable moral of this fable, which he repeated to his deserting comrade, " Never associate with a wretch, who, in the hour of danger, will desert his friend." I would remark that the bear, for- merly very dangerous, has now become nearly extinct in this part of the country, being seldom seen except upon the stock exchange in New York, where he roams as fierce and untamable as ever. He is hunted there sometimes successfully by " bulls," but sometimes the " bulls " get the worst of it.
Lastly, " The unjust judge," a fable well known to all this audience, and also known to be so exclusively applicable to the legal profession, of which I see around me several of high standing, that it might appear personal if I proceeded further into the " case." The obvious moral is, " Don't go to law nor to lawyers expecting to obtain justice." I should not omit to say, the " bull " of this fable is not of the kind used for hunt- ing " bears " in Wall street.
The only reading-books used in that school, besides those mentioned, of which I have any recollection, were the " American Preceptor," by Caleb Bingham, A. M., and " An American Selection of Lessons in Reading and Speaking," etc., " being the Third Part of a Grammatical Institute of the English Language," " by Noah Webster, Jun., Esquire, Boston, 1802."
And now, Mr. President, after begging pardon for occupying so much time in giving my boyish recollections of the neighborhood where I was born, always interesting to myself, but tedious, I fear, to my audience, I will say a few words upon the characteristics of our Scotch-Irish ances- tors, - a subject laid on the table a few minutes ago, where I really think it had better remain, as the history of the first settlers here,
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which you have already heard from others, has necessarily, to a great extent, covered the subject, and presented it more ably than it is possible for me to do.
The emigration from Scotland to the north of Ireland, about the year 1612, was chiefly from Argyleshire. There are reasons, however, for believing that some portion of it went from Ayrshire. From the descendants of that emigration to Ireland, came those who settled in Londonderry and its neighboring towns in this State, in 1719, and subse- quently. From this stock the early settlers in this town are derived, - that is, those of Scottish descent. I have endeavored to find some record of the names of the families who emigrated from Argyleshire to Ireland, but without success, though I find in the "statistical account " of that shire, in nearly every parish, names identical with those of the early set- tlers in this town and vicinity. The characteristics of those who emi- grated to this country were substantially the same with their ancestors in Scotland. Very little change took place during the century they were in Ireland. Scotch when they came there, and very proud of it, their descendants were just as Scotch, and equally proud of their descent, when they left Ireland for America. The native Scotchman is proverb- ially proud of the country of his ancestors. Although it is a land rough and sterile, a large portion of which is, and always has been, totally unfit for agricultural purposes, or in any way sustaining a numerous popula- tion, the native Scotch are nevertheless strongly attached to the " land of the mountain and the flood." At times obliged by necessity, or for other causes choosing, to emigrate, they never forget the hills, mosses, straths, banks, and braes of " bonnie Scotland," or cease to speak of them with affection, and with the hope of some day returning there.
Our Scotch-Irish ancestors, although generation after generation of their progenitors were born in Ireland, never seem to have formed any strong attachment to that country, nor to have acquired, to any great extent, the manners, customs, or political or religious notions of that people, nor to have looked back to the country as once their home, or the home of their ancestors. Their religion, and the treatment they received on account of it, probably more than all other causes, created in them an antipathy to the Irish people, which was kept up, not only during their sojourn in that country, but survived it, and came with them to this ; and, according to my observation, seems to be one of their charac- teristic, and perhaps unreasonable, prejudices, to the present time.
The Scotch are naturally a serious people, and, to whatever religious denomination they may belong, are strongly attached to it, and may be said to be " terribly in earnest " in regard to it. Their national religion has for centuries been Presbyterianism, to which order our ancestors generally belonged. Any history of it on this occasion is unnecessary. Perhaps no Christians, as a denomination, ever suffered more for "con- science' sake," than they in the early years of the sect in Scotland, or exemplified more "grit and grace " under their persecutions, or held more tenaciously to their faith under the most trying conditions. In Ireland, also, great trials awaited them. The Irish Catholics, who had been dispossessed of their lands by these Scotch Presbyterians, soon
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began to annoy them whenever opportunity offered. In addition to the expense of supporting their own church, they were compelled to pay a tenth part of all their increase to aid in the support of a minister of the established church. They could only hold the lands they occupied as lessees of the crown, and not as owners of the soil. With their ardent aspirations for liberty, they could not endure to be thus deprived or trammeled in the exercise of their civil and religious rights. By these and other deprivations and trials, they 'were finally prepared to abandon the land to which they never were strongly attached, and where they had met so many discouragements, and set their faces toward this land of freedom. The motives for emigrating from Ireland to America, as stated by Rev. Mr. McGregor, in a sermon addressed to his people on the eve of their embarking to this country, were : " (1) To avoid oppres- sion and cruel bondage; (2) to shun persecution and designed ruin; (3) to withdraw from the communion of idolaters; (4) to have an opportu- nity to worship God according to the dictates of conscience and the rules of His inspired Word." With these motives and with an unfaltering confidence in Divine Providence, our fathers left the place of their birth and all the associations and comforts of home, and took the perils of a passage across the ocean " to a land which they knew not "; neither for wealth, power, nor earthly honor, but for "freedom to worship God "; and this the very sublimity of " grace," if not of " grit."
Arriving at this their adopted home, then an unbroken wilderness, they were subjected to all the trials and deprivations incident to new settlements: the want of roads, bridges, mills, mechanical and agricultu- ral tools and implements, the destitution of educational and religious privileges, sickness, the depredations of wild and savage beasts, and the constant fear of more savage men, - their condition during the early years of the settlement was peculiarly hard and rigorous. From many incidents that might be cited, showing the perils of the time, and also indicating the "grit and grace " with which they were encountered, I will relate a single one which was told me by my mother, who resided in Dea. Boyd's family some nine years, and who had the story directly from the heroine herself. Joseph Boyd (afterwards Dea. Boyd) with his young wife Mary, or Molly (McKeen), were among the very early set- tlers here, and had begun a clearing and built a house and barn, of logs, on the spot now occupied by the fine residence of Mr. D. H. Goodell. During the absence of Mr. Boyd at a neighboring town on business, his wife, being entirely alone, heard a sudden outcry from the swine, of which they had only two. Presently one of them rushed past the door toward the barn. As the other did not appear, Mrs. Boyd started at once to reconnoiter, when, at a little distance from the house, she discov- ered the missing animal held fast in the embraces of a huge black bear, whose biting and hugging caused the outcry of the pig. Here was a call for " grit " if not for " grace," and Mrs. Boyd was equal to the emergency. Thinking the loss of the animal would, in the beginning of their married life, be almost irreparable, she braved the danger, and, approaching within speaking distance, screamed at the top of her voice, hoping to frighten away the bear. But he cast a look of contempt upon her, as much as to
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say, " Who cares for you, Mrs. Boyd? This pig is mine." But Mrs. Boyd was not disposed to concede this claim. Laying hold of a partially burnt stick of wood which she could conveniently wield, she boldly advanced within striking distance, and gave the bear a violent blow upon his back, at the same time raising her voice with all her power; whereupon, astonished, if not damaged, by this unexpected attack in the rear, he at once dropped his prize, and, marching off a couple of rods, seated himself upon his haunches to take a view of the situation, when the intrepid Mrs. Boyd, executing a strategic movement, placed herself between the bear and the pig, and drove the latter up to the barn and shut him in with his mate. She then hasted to the nearest neighbor, Mr. Daniel McFarland (who then lived where Mr. N. W. C. Jameson now resides), for re-enforcements ; but so much time was consumed in preparing ammunition, that when the allies appeared on the battle-field, the bear had made good his retreat. Mr. Boyd arriving home about this time, a bear-trap or pitfall was constructed, and baited with a portion of the pig, which it was found necessary to slaughter, and the next morn- ing a three-hundred-pound bear was found in the trap. Bear-meat was generally considered a welcome delicacy by the new settlers, but Mrs. Boyd declined to partake of the feast. In describing this involuntary tete-a-tete with the bear, as he sat gazing at her, she said she could hardly avoid the impression that it was the evil one himself, and always there- after mentally associated them together, as having a striking family resemblance at least. I have no doubt the young wives of this day have inherited the "grit." of their foremothers, and would emulate their courage in encountering danger under the same circumstances. But that they are not called to the trial is fortunate for the young wives, and for the bears too.
Few years only were required under the exercise of the indomitable fortitude and industry of these ancestors of ours, to materially change these rigorous conditions. The wilderness gradually yielded to the aggressive inroads of the husbandman.
" How jocund did they drive their team afield, How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke."
Green meadows, fertile fields, rich and broad pastures, supplanted the forests ; the meeting-house early made its appearance on the hill above us; school-houses multiplied as they were needed; the din of the smith, the carpenter, and the mason began to be heard; the smoke curled up from the chimneys of neat and comfortable dwellings on every side, indi- cating the industry and thrift of the new settlers. These were the beginnings, one hundred years ago, of what we see to-day in this town, and in many other towns having the same common origin.
The sojourn of our Scotch progenitors in Ireland may be compared with the crystal stream having its source high up among the Alpine glaciers of central Europe, augmented by tributaries as it descends, till it becomes a large and rapid river, pouring into and passing for a long dis- tance through a lake, with whose waters, however, it does not appear to mingle at all, but continues its course, maintaining its own distinctive
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