The History of Union County, Ohio, containing a history of the county; its townships, towns military record;, Part 83

Author: Durant, Pliny A. [from old catalog]; Beers, W. H., & co., Chicago, pub. [from old catalog]
Publication date: 1883
Publisher: Chicago, W. H. Beers & co.
Number of Pages: 1254

USA > Ohio > Union County > The History of Union County, Ohio, containing a history of the county; its townships, towns military record; > Part 83

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GEORGE W. COURT, retired, Marysville. George Court was born March 26, 1835, in Marion County, Ohio, where he was left with limited means and education, and only through his in- domitable energy and frugality has made life a pronounced success. He was raised on a farm,

PARIS TOWNSHIP.

and in 1856 began learning the carpenter's trade, and teaching school during the winter. In 1859, he entered upon the mercantile pursuit in which he was engaged until 1868, when he re- moved to Richwood, Union County. Here he became associated in business with T. P. Cratty, with whom he has since been more or less connected. Mr. Court engaged largely in building and improving property ; erected several dwellings and storehouses in Richwood, and otherwise aided in the improvement and growth of the town. In 1877, he was elected County Treasurer, and the following year became a resident of this city. He pursued the hardware trade during the year 1881, since which time he has been dealing in real estate and landed property. He was married in Marion County, Ohio, in March, 1861, to Miss Eliza, daughter of Thomas Phillips, of that county. Two children born to this issue are living, viz .; Minnie and Edward. Frederick Court, grandfather of George, was a native of Germany, who settled in Virginia in -. Joseph, the father of this subject, was born near Harper's Ferry, Va. He was married in Marion County, Ohio, to Miss Maria Sherman, a native of Vermont. Frederick and family moved and settled in Ross County, Ohio, in 1816, thence to Marion County, where he died in 1842. Joseph raised a family of nine children-six boys and three girls-all of whom are living, as follows . George, eldest; William, Sarah, Mary, Louisa, John, Joseph, Stephen and Frank.

OTWAY CURRY.

It is impossible, in this volume, to give an adequate sketch of Mr. Curry, for the thousand particulars which might be included can only be dwelt upon in an extended account of his life, such as only he who is most intimately acquainted with his character and career is competent to prepare.

Otway Curry was born March 26, 1804, on the site of what is now Greenfield, Highland County, Ohio, and was the son of Col. James Curry, a veteran officer of the Revolution, who came with his family to the territory now included in Union County in 1811. Otway Curry was a pupil in the log schoolhouse near the home of his boyhood, and also received much instruction from his parents, of a higher order than that imparted by the half-educated teachers whose serv- ices were in demand among the pioneers-even though they performed a good work in their way. The father was summoned to Chillicothe, a member of the Legislature, in 1812; the eld- est son went out with the army to do battle for his country, and the rest of the family remained upon the farm under the superintendence of the prudent and patriotic mother. Alone in the wilderness, surrounded by savages, they were never molested, though often alarmed. On one occasion their horses showed every indication of fear ; their dogs barked furiously, now rushing into the cornfield, and then retreating with bristling hair, as if driven. The family, concluding that , Indians were near, prepared to fight as well as pray. The mother, in marshaling her forces, stationed young Otway and his brother Stephenson on guard, Otway at the house corner, and Stephenson at the bars, with loaded guns at a rest, and charged them to take aim and fire as soon as they saw an Indian. Fortunately, there was no attack made upon the domestic fort.

As the boy grew to man's estate, he read the small but choice collection of books in his father's library ; and, before he came of age, he attended a select school in the neighborhood taught by Mr. C., a farmer of good education. In 1823, being determined to learn a trade, he went to Lebanon, Ohio, and there learned the art of carpentry. He was subsequently located a short time each at Cincinnati and Detroit, and later at Marion. Ohio. In company with Henry Mason, both possessed of a romantic nature, he made and launched a skiff at Millville, a small village on the Scioto River, and descended that stream to its mouth, proceeding thence down the Ohio to Cincinnati. At the latter point he engaged passage for himself and a box of tools, on a flatboat, and voyaged slowly down the Ohio and Mississippi to Port Gibson, where he spent one year. About this time he summoned courage to offer anonymously some verses to the newspapers, among which were his sweet poems, " My Mother," and " Kingdom Come." His lines wen for him admiration at the outset, and it never diminished in degree during all the subsequent years. Returning to Cincinnati, he contributed more freely to the press, over the signature of " Abdal- lah," and at this time formed the acquaintance of William D. Gallagher, who was induced to seek, upon perusal of his stanzas, " The Minstrel's Home." This acquaintance was improved by time, and unbroken by jealousy, envy, or serious misunderstanding.

On leaving Cincinnati, Mr. Curry returned to his father's house, in Union County, where he passed the winter of 1828-29, dividing his time between the muse and the young lady, Miss Mary Noteman, who was about to and did, in December, become his wife. In 1829, he again vis- ited the South, and spent four or five months at Baton Rouge, contributing, meanwhile, poetical productions both to the Cincinnati Mirror and the Cincinnati Chronicle. Upon his return, lie set- tled in Union County and engaged in agricultural pursuits, which he prosecuted with industry till 1839. While on his farm, he courted the muses as opportunity offered, and issued some of his best verses from his rural home. He first appeared in public life in 1836, as a member of the Ohio House of Representatives, to which he was re-elected in 1837 and 1842. While serving his last term, he purchased the newspaper known as the Greene County Torch Light, and removed to Xenia ; he changed the name of the paper to Xenia Torch Light, and conducted it in an able man- ner for two years, when he sold out and returned to Marysville. He had previously, in 1838,

HISTORY OF UNION COUNTY.

associated himself with William D. Gallagher in the publication, at Columbus, of a literary monthly magazine called the Hesperian. It was of a high order, but not being adequately sus- tained, was discontinued at the end of the third volume.

Mr. Curry had studied law before his removal to Xenia, but had practiced little up to that time. He became master of his profession, and one of his ablest competitors said of him that, " although he entered the law late in life, and practiced it scarcely ten years, yet he had no supe- rior as a sound lawyer, within the range of his practice, and bade fair, if his life had been spared a few years longer, to become an eminent legal mind." In 1850, he was elected a member of the second Ohio Constitutional Convention, and with manly firmness and dignity he resisted some of the principles of the instrument which that able body elaborated. In 1853, he purchased the Scioto Gazette, a daily paper published at Chillicothe, whither he removed. He continued to edit this paper with characteristic ability about one year, at the expiration of which time, owing to the failing health of his wife, he sold out and returned to Marysville, where he resumed the practice of his profession. In January, 1854, he was President of the Ohio Editorial Conven- tion, at Cincinnati, and made many friends among the members, who had before known him only by his writings. He became a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1843, and con- tinued in that relation until his death, which occurred February 15, 1855, after a severe illness of two weeks' duration. A well-known biographer (the late Bishop Thomson) wrote of him :

" Mr. Curry's name is without a spot. In early life he labored with his hands, in later years with his mind-always rendering either moral or material benefit for all that he received. When called to office, it was by unsolicited suffrages, and, when placed in power, he was no tool of party. No speeches for sinister ends, no motion for faction purposes, no empty declamations or busy demonstrations or crafty schemes disgraced his political career. Guided by a sense of duty to his country, he walked heedless alike of private threats and popular clamor. At the bar he was the shield of innocence, the terror of guilt and the moderator of Justice. Though liable, like other men, to be deceived by his client and influenced by his passions, he would not enforce what he deemed an unjust claim or prosecute a just one in an unjust mode. As an editor, he manifested the same integrity, though sorely tried. Once determined on his course, he stopped at no obstacles, heeded no persecution, and declined no conflict. He was, however, too modest, unambitious and averse to public life for a leader. He was a man of great social and domestic virtue. As a neighbor, he was considerate, peaceful, obliging and hospitable ; looking with pa- tience upon the weakness, and with silence upon the wrongs of others, he cherished no malignity, fomented no disputes, flattered no patron, and pierced no victim. Though not insensible to in- gratitude, meanuess and injury, he was too respectful of himself and too charitable toward oth- ers to indulge in any utterances that would give pain, unless they were necessary to a prudent maintenance of right. He was as far from being a cynic as a parasite. * * In his home he found a paradise. Thither his steps tended when the toils of the day wereover ; there, among his little ones, he talked as a child, he thought as a child, he played as a child; there, too, he rejoiced with the wife of his youth, and found in her smiles a recompense for his labors and a refuge from his cares. *

He was a man of fervent and unostentatious piety, and he delighted in simplicity of worship. *

* Mr. Curry's chief characteristic was his taste. His mind was in har- mony with nature ; he had a relish for all beauty. To him it was not in vain that God painted the landscape green, cast the channels of the streams in graceful curves, lighted up the arch of night, and turned the gates of the day on golden hinges amid the anthems of a grateful world. No thirst for wealth, no conflict for honor, no lust for meaner pleasures destroyed his sensibility to the harmonies and proportions of the universe. From a child, he was fond of nature and soli- tude ; as he grew up poets were his companions; with them he sympathized ; with them he sat, side by side, in the enchanted land of song ; to see, to enjoy what the idle, the worldly and the profane cannot-this was not merely his pastime, but his living. A luxurious melancholy chastened his spirit and mellowed the light which it reflected. * * *

* The love of beauty is usually associated with the capacity to reproduce it ; that is taste, this is art. Mr. Curry's art was not proportionate to his taste ; it manifested itself in the sweet music of his flute and the sweeter strains of his verse ; the former is lost in the empty air, the latter will float down the river of time. His poetry will not be relished by the masses; it has no pæans of battle, no provo- cations of mirth, no mockery of misery, no strokes of malice. It is the song of a religious soul; faith is the bond which links its stanzas, a faith that brings heaven near to earth and man into fellowship with angels. Like wine, it will be pronounced better as it grows older; not because it will improve, but because the world's taste will. What he uttered we may suppose was little compared with what he bore away with him into heaven, where he will take up the harp that he laid down too early on earth."

Rebecca S. Nichols, herself a gifted poetess, and a friend of Mr. Curry, speaks thus elo- quently of him : " Within the holy fire of poesy burned clear and bright, refining the material man and lifting the more ethereal element of our twofold nature up to the realms of love and faith and peace, where the indwelling soul preludes the feast of immortal joys. No petty am- bitions, no goading desires for name and fame among the great of earth ever soiled the bosom of our friend. To more quietly in his accustomed round of prescribed duties-to enjoy the com- munion of chosen and congenial minds-to yield himself up to the manifold enchantments of

PARIS TOWNSHIP.

inspiring nature-to utter in verse, smooth and musical as his favorite streams, the live thoughts of the passing moments, made up the sum of his daily happiness ; and if a shade of sadness, as of some secret and acknowledged sorrow, bordered the placid beauty of existence, it only added tenderness to the heart's of those who knew and loved him, and made them more eager to min- ister to his simple and unadulterated pleasures."

Mr. Curry was a man of fine form, tall and well proportioned, possessed a broad, lofty brow and an open countenance. He wore no beard and was seen always in office and street freshly and cleanly shaven. His taste was unacceptionable in dress, in language, in reading, and, in- deed in all things. He was extremely cautions and careful, both in his speech and his writings, and nothing from his pen was ever permitted to go to the press until it had first been scrutinized, word by word, for the sake of correctness and improvement. From this fact, the criticism which his poems will bear is easily explained. He was, in all respects, a man which any community could ill afford to lose, and the sorrow of his friends and relatives at his untimely taking away was profuse and most sincere.

Mr. Curry was married December 17, 1828, in the identical great frame house in which Zacharia Noteman now lives, to Mary, daughter of Andrew Noteman, of Jerome Township, on Darby Creek. Miss Noteman, born August 13, 1806. was a very handsome woman, and was known far and near as the " Darby Beauty." She had large, lustrous, dark eyes, dark brown hair, and was of a quiet, engaging disposition. She was for many years a member of the Methodist Church, an unassuming Christian woman, and a devoted wife and mother. Her father, it is said, was opposed to the marriage, because of young Curry's too great fondness for books, and the improbability of his ever, in consequence, becoming a thrifty farmer. But the old gentleman soon became reconciled and was, until the day of his death, a devoted friend of his son-in-law. Soon after the marriage, he gave his daughter and her husband a fine farm on Darby Creek, adjoining Plain City, at present knowa as the Jones farm. Mrs. Curry died at Marysville, Ohio, April 21, 1856, following her husband to the old Marysville churchyard in just one year two months and six days. By this marriage there were born to Mr. and Mrs. Curry but two children, a daughter and a son. The eldest, Mary Aletha, was born September 21, 1829, and the son, Llewellyn, November 23, 1831. Mary was married at her father's house in Marysville, June 24, 1846, to William Cooper, merchant, of Xenia, Ohio (deceased in 1849). She died at her home in Marysville March 18, 1872. Llewellyn studied law with his father and Hon. J. W. Robinson, and in the year 1857 he removed to Chicago, where, as successively lawyer, editor and broker, he has since resided.

The following are some of Mr. Curry's choicest poems :

TO MY MOTHER.

My mother ! though in darkness now The slumber of the grave is passed, Its gloom will soou be o'er, and thou Wilt break away at last, And dwell where neither grief nor pain Can ever reach thy heart again.

Sleep on-the cold and heavy hand Of death has stilled thy gentle breast ; No rude sound of this stormy land Shall mar thy peaceful rest : Undying guardians round thee close,

To count the years of thy repose.

A day of the far years will break On every sea and every shore, In whose bright morning thou shalt wake And rise, to sleep no more- No more to molder in the gloom And coldness of the dreary tomb.

I saw thy fleeting life decay, Even as a frail and withering flower, And vainly strove to while away Its swiftly closing hour : It came, with many a thronging thought Of anguish, ne'er again forgot.

In life's proud dreams I have no part, No share in its resounding glee ; The musings of my weary heart Are in the grave with thee. There have been bitter tears of mine Above that lowly bed of thine.

HISTORY OF UNION COUNTY.

It seems to my fond memory now, As it had been but yesterday, When I was but a child, and thou Didst cheer me in my play ; And in the evenings, still and lone, Didst lull me with thy music-tone.

And when the twilight hours begun, And shining constellations came, Thou bad'st me know each nightly sun, And con its ancient name ; For thou hast learned their lore and light With watchings in the tranquil night.

And then, when leaning on thy knee, I saw them in their grandeur rise, It was a joy, in sooth, to me: But now the starry skies Seem holier grown and doubly fair, Since thou art with the angels there.

The stream of life, with hurrying flow, Its course may bear me swiftly thro'; I grieve not, for I soon shall go, And by thy side renew The love which here for thee I bore, And never leave thy presence more.

THE BLOSSOMS OF LIFE.

Life is like a sweeping river, Ceaseless in its seaward flow - On whose waves quick sunbeams quiver, On whose banks sweet blossoms grow -

Blossoms quick to grow and perish ; Swift to bloom and swift to fall; Those we earliest learn to cherish Soonest pass beyond recall.

Shall we lose them all forever ? Leave them on this earthly strand ? Shall their joyous radiance never Reach us in the spirit land ?

Soon the tide of life up-flowing Buoyantly from time's dim shore, Where supernal flowers are growing, Shall meander ever more.

There the hopes that long have told us Of the climes beyond the tomb, While superber skies enfold us, Shall renew their starry bloom.

And the bloom that here in sadness Faded from the flowers of love Shall with its immortal gladness Crown us in the world above.

AUTUMN MUSINGS.

'Tis autumn, Mary, and many a fleeting age Hath faded since the primal morn of Time ; And silently the slowly journeying years, All redolent of countless seasons, pass.

PARIS TOWNSHIP.

The spring-time wakes in beauty, and is fraught With power to thrill the leaping pulse of joy, And urge the footsteps of ideal hope With flowery lightness on. In peerless day Resplendent summer garlandeth the world ; And contemplation through her sky serene Ascends unwearied, emulous to lead, To marshal, and to proudly panoply The votaries of ambition as they rise. These, with their gilded pageants, disappear, And vestal Truth leads on the silent hours Of autumn's lonely reign. The weary gales Creep o'er the waters, and the sun-brown plains, Oft whispering as they pass a long farewell To the frail emblems of the waning year, The drooping foliage, and the dying leaves. This is the time for care; to break the spell Of ever-fading fancy; to contrast The evanescent beams of earthly bliss With the long, dread array of deepening ill. The ills of life are twofold: those which fall With lead-like weight upon the mortal clay Are transient in their kind; for the frail dust Erelong shall blend with the innumerous sands, And atoms of the boundless universe, Absorbed in the unfelt, unconscious rest Of lifeless, soulless matter, without change, Save when the far-off period shall arrive Of shadowy nothingness.

The deadlier ills That tinge existence with unbroken gloom Are lost to melioration, for they hold The ever-during spirit in their grasp, And in their kind a withering permanence. To linger in unrest-to be endowed With high aspiring, endless, limitless ! On thought's unshackled pinions to outride The air-borne eagles of the Appennines ; To pierce the surging depths of endless space; To revel in the stalwart fervidness Of its careering forms! to sweep sublime Through the far regions of immensity, Then fall astounded from the dreaming height, And wake in wildering durance: these are things That well may dim the sleepless eyes of care. And thou, too, Friendship, pilgrim-child of heaven ! The balm that brings the spirit sweet relief From the keen stings of sorrow and despair, 'Tis thine to give; yet the deep quietude Of the bereaving tomb hath shrouded oft The morning-prime of beings formed for thee.

THE GREAT HEREAFTER.

'Tis sweet to think, when struggling The goal of life to win, That just beyond the shores of time The better days begin.

When through the nameless ages I cast my longing eyes, Before me, like a boundless sea, The Great Hereafter lies.

Along its brimming bosom Perpetual summer smiles And gathers like a golden robe, Around the emerald isles.

HISTORY OF UNION COUNTY.

There in the long blue distance, By lulling breezes fanned, I seem to see the flowering groves Of old Beulah's land.

And far beyond the islands That gem the wave serene, The image of the cloudless shore Of holy Heaven is seen.

Unto the Great Hereafter- Aforetime dim and dark - I freely now, and gladly, give Of life the wandering bark.

And in the far-off haven, When shadowy seas are passed, By angel hands its quivering sails Shall all be furled at last.

THE CLOSING YEAR.

The year has reached its evening time, And well its closing gloom May warn us of the lonely night That gathers round the tomb.

But many a distant year and age May slowly come and go, Before the sleepers of the grave Another spring-time know.

And yet, beyond the gloomy vale, Where death's dark river flows, On sunniest shores our faitli is fixed- Our deathless hopes repose.

We trust that when the night of time Shall into morning break, We shall, from long and heavy sleep, With song and gladness wake.

THE TIME TO DIE.

Part not when the sleepers wake

At the young day's glimmering break-

Part not in the golden light

When the early morn is bright,

And the mist-clouds dark and dim

All around thee sweep and swim ;

Through the radiance of the dawn

Let thy spirit linger on.

Part not in the fervid noon,

When the worlds where, swift and soon,

Thou with plumy wing shalt stray,

Seem so far, so fallen away.

Part not in the balmy eve, When the passing sunbeams leave

Wavering crimson all around,

And the free wind's lulling sound

And the tones of human mirth Bind thec to the homes of earth.

Rest thee, till the light and power Of the waning twilight hour Leave thee, girt with shadows dread- Gathering darkness round thee spread.

PARIS TOWNSHIP.

Linger till the stars outshine, With their long and silent line, Winding up the solemn sky, To the zenith steep and high ; Then along the fearful track Let thy spirit wander back, Where the times eternal came, Ages without end or name.

Muse upon the millions vast

Of the unremembered past-

Older than the hills their birth,

Changing with the changing earth ; Countless host succeeding host,

Order after order lost ; Planted in existence bright, On the verge of endless night, In this flickering life of pain But a moment to remain ; Hurrying to eternal sleep In their rocky mansions deep.

Muse upon the coming time, When the ancient hills sublime Shall be desolate and sere,

And the seas shall disappear. All shall be one mighty tomb,

In whose overwhelming gloom

Every form of life shall bow ;

And of all that greet thee now, Many a loved and loving one, Not a whisper, not a tone,

On the wave or on the shore, Shall be heard, forevermore. Musing in the feeble light Of the still and starry night, Soon shall thy sad spirit yearn

For the time to part, and turn From the shadowy things of naught

To the land of life, thy thought- From the things of lowly dust To the far-off Heaven, thy trust.

Then upon the closing eye Heavy shall the midnight lie- Then shall be the hour of doom ; Gird thee for its fear and gloom ; Calmly from thy cumbering clay In the silence pass away.

It is said by one who saw Mr. Curry dying, that his dissolution was even as described in the last lines of the above poem-calmly and in the silence his spirit left the " cumbering clay " and the poet's heart was still.

The following " Fourth of July Ode" was written by Otway Curry," and was first sung at a celebration held at Bigelow's Grove, Pleasant Valley, Madison County, Ohio, July 4, 1833, under the leadership of Nelson Cone. The same gentleman led in singing it forty-five years later-September 27, 1878, at a re-union of the Curry family on Mr. Cone's farm in Jerome Township :

God of the high and boundless heaven, We call upon Thy name ; We tread the soil that Thou hast given To freedom and to fame. Around us, on the ocean waves, Our starry banners sweep ; Around us, in their lowly graves, Our patriot fathers sleep.

* The song as here given is found in The Hesperian for July, 1838.

HISTORY OF UNION COUNTY.

With fearless hearts and stalwart hands, They bore their eagles high O'er serried arms and battle brands, Careering in the sky ; For freedom, in her darkest day, Their life-blood bathed the plain ; Their moldering tombs may pass away, Their glories shall remain.

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The History of Union County, Ohio, containing a history of the county; its townships, towns military record;, Part 83

Author: Durant, Pliny A. [from old catalog]; Beers, W. H., & co., Chicago, pub. [from old catalog] Publication date: 1883 Publisher: Chicago, W. H. Beers & co. Number of Pages: 1254

Author: Durant, Pliny A. [from old catalog]; Beers, W. H., & co., Chicago, pub. [from old catalog]
Publication date: 1883
Publisher: Chicago, W. H. Beers & co.
Number of Pages: 1254