I wish to preface this memorial by a little sketch of Cornwall,
especially those parts of it most nearly connected with our family
history. I have gathered the materials for it from a little book on
Cornwall, by Mr. Tregellas.
The long coast-line of Cornwall, the most southern and western county of
England, has been, like Italy, compared in shape to a Wellington boot,
the iron heel of which is the mass of serpentine rock which forms the
southern point of the Lizard, and the foot that part which lies between
Mounts Bay and Land's End. The instep is at St. Ives Bay, and the body
of the boot constitutes the main portion of the county, the highest part
toward the eastern end forming the Bodmin moors. Along the northern
coast, the mural cliffs, against which the Atlantic rollers forever
break, are in marked contrast to the tamer and more sylvan scenery of
the south and west shores; while across the low-lying lands between St.
Ives and Mounts Bay the sea often threaten to meet in the spring tides.
The climate of Cornwall, owing to its situation, is so remarkable as to
deserve notice. The month of January at Penzance is as warm as at
Florence or Madrid, and July is as cool as at St. Petersburg. There is
scarcely a country in the world with a climate so mild and equable.
The people are "ardent and vivacious, self-reliant and versatile." It is
no uncommon thing for a Cornishman to build his own house, make his own
shoes, be both fisherman and miner, and, possibly, small shop-keeper
besides; and wherever the Cornish miner emigrates, he is pretty sure to
take the lead in enterprise and danger.
Wilkie Collins says: "As a body of men they are industrious,
intelligent, sober, and orderly, neither soured by hard work, nor
depressed by harsher privations"; and the old poet Taylor, in 1649,
writes: "Cornwall is the compleate and repleate Home of Abundance, for
high, churlish hills and affable, courteous people. The country hath its
share of huge stones, mighty rocks, noble free gentlemen, bountiful
housekeepers, strong and stout men, handsome and beautiful women."
Many curious old customs linger in Cornwall, among them the ceremony of
"cutting the neck," or last few ears of corn at harvest time, the
lighting of bonfires on the hills at St. John's Eve, and the "furry" or
Flora dance at Helston, on the eighth of May. Among the peculiar dishes
of the Cornish cuisine, prominent is the pasty, the almost universal
dinner of the working class. It is a savory compound of meat and
potatoes, inclosed in a crescent-shaped crust; but one must be a
Cornishman to appreciate this dish thoroughly. The variety of pies is
truly marvelous. It has been said that the devil himself would be put
into a pie if he were caught in Cornwall. Most of them are richly
saturated with clotted cream, a real Cornish dainty, which is very
popular, as are also Cornish seed-cakes.
From time immemorial Cornwall has had a leading part in the mineral
industries of England. Mines of tin, copper, lead, and zinc abound, and
have been the chief source of revenue to the county. They give
abundant employment to the laboring class, and men, women, and even
children are freely employed in various ways about the mines. Since 1870
the mining industries have declined; the mines have been less
productive, and the great discoveries of ore in this and other countries
have greatly reduced prices and scattered the Cornish miners over the
world.
The fisheries of Cornwall have been another very important industry,
especially the mackerel and pilchard fishing. The pilchard is a very
delicious fish, similar to a herring, and is found almost exclusively on
the Cornish coast.
Cornwall abounds in interesting antiquities, and many of these are
claimed to be almost as old as the granite rocks and cliffs of which
they are composed. They are relics of the early Britons,--remains of
villages, various sorts of sepulchral and memorial stones, and also some
that were associated with ancient religious rites. Some of these, such
as the "holed stones," have given rise to many superstitions among the
common folk, who have been in the habit of dragging invalids through
the orifices in the hope of curing them. There are also "cliff castles,"
especially at Land's End and at other points on the coast,--retreats of
the native tribes from enemies,--and also earth-work forts on elevated
sites throughout the country. The early Christian antiquities include
churches and priories and the oratories or small chapels, frequently
associated with a Baptistery or holy well. Some of these are as early as
the fifth century. There is also an unusual number of crosses. As to
their uses an ancient manuscript says: "For this reason ben crosses by
ye way, that when folk passynge see ye croysses they shoulde thynke on
Hym that deyed on ye croysse, and worshyppe Hym above althyng." They
were also sometimes erected to guide and guard the way to the church,
and sometimes for the beautiful custom of leaving alms on the crosses
for poor wayfarers. The crosses were formerly far more numerous than
now, but recently some of them have been rescued from doing duty as
gate-posts and the like, to be reerected in the churchyards. There are
also inscribed stones, such as the Camborne altar-slab, and others.
Of the towns of Cornwall, almost all have some interest, ancient or
modern. Truro has recently become the episcopal town of the county; a
fine cathedral has been built, and the Bishop has his residence there.
Falmouth, at the mouth of the Fal, is a comparatively modern town,
beautifully situated. Its magnificent and famous harbor has given it
considerable commercial importance in former times. One of its chief
attractions is Pendennis Castle. It stands on a bold promontory two
hundred feet high, on the western side of the harbor. It was one of the
works of defense undertaken by Henry VIII, but the enclosure is of the
time of Elizabeth. It is an interesting example of the military
architecture of the period. During the Civil War, Pendennis Castle
played a prominent and interesting part, and was the last but one of the
old castles that held out for the King's cause.
A picturesque spot of much interest on the coast is the jutting headland
of the Lizard. The serpentine rock of which it is composed is very
beautiful when polished. The best time to visit this spot is at low
tide on a summer day, after a storm. Its soft yellow sandy beach, its
emerald waves, deep rock-pools and gorgeous serpentine cliffs, of green,
purple, crimson, and black, are then of astonishing beauty. Passing
eastward along the coast, we come to the little town of Marazion, in
front of which rises from the strand the far-famed St. Michael's
Mount--an isolated, rugged pyramid of granite, about a mile in
circumference and two hundred and thirty feet high at the chapel
platform. Several Sir John St. Aubyns have successively inherited it
since 1860, the date on which they acquired it from a Bassett of Tehidy.
The chapel and the hall are the portions most worthy of examination. A
few steps below the chapel is a recess called the dungeon; near it, a
narrow winding stair leads to the tower. Near the platform are the
remains of a stone cresset called St. Michael's Chair, which is supposed
to bring good fortune to those that sit in it.
The town of Penzance, "the Holy Headland," is the place of approach to
the Land's End--a bold promontory standing out into the sea at the
southwestern extremity of England. Its granite cliff-scenery is the
finest in Cornwall. The tempest-scarred cliffs, the furious onset of the
waves in stormy weather, and the gorgeous sunsets, so frequent at that
point, invest Land's End with a deep and almost melancholy grandeur. It
is said that Wesley stood upon this point when he wrote the hymn,
"Lo! on a narrow neck of land
'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand."
But the chief interest of Cornwall for our present purpose lies in the
town of Camborne on the Cam, or "crooked river." It is one of the great
mining centres, and has numerous rich mines, of which the principal is
Dolcoath, one of the deepest and most ancient in Cornwall. It is a busy
town, built mostly of stone, with nothing of note in the way of
architecture. The plain parish church, with its three sharp gables,
contains nothing of special interest. It stands in the midst of the
churchyard, in which are found many monuments and inscriptions to
attract the attention of those who love to recall the past. About three
miles to the north is Tehidy, the seat of the Bassetts, with its fine
park and gallery containing pictures by Gainsborough, Sir Joshua
Reynolds, and Vandyke. In driving to the high bluffs on the north shore
it is easy to visit Carn Brea, a rocky headland seven hundred feet above
the sea, with picturesque granite blocks piled upon its summit. Here, it
is said, was the chief scene of Druid worship; here was the sacrificial
rock, in the hollows of which the victim was laid; and here were the
granite basins hollowed out to receive his blood. The castle, of Norman
origin, was built by Ralph De Pomeroy, and was occupied by a Bassett in
the time of Edward IV. There are also here the remains of ancient
British earthworks, and "hut circles," and a tall monument to Lord De
Dunstanville of Tehidy, erected in 1836.
A point of great interest to us is that Mr. Samuel Davey, the inventor
of the safety fuse for blasting and mining, was a native of Camborne,
and had his residence there, as did also his partner in business, George
Smith, LL.D. Mr. Smith was a man of high character, and great ability as
a scholar and writer, and the author of many works of theology and
biblical history. Among these are "The Hebrew People" and "The Gentile
Nations," which have been accepted as text-books in some theological
courses. The other member of the firm was Major John S. Bickford, a man
of wealth and influence, and the title of the firm became "Bickford,
Smith and Davey." The manufactory was located at Tuckingmill, a village
a little distance from Camborne. The business, at first small, has grown
and become very successful, and has branches in many parts of Europe and
America. The original firm, as represented by its successors, still
carries on the business in Tuckingmill.
One of the noteworthy features of the town life is the Saturday
market-day. On this day are gathered the people from all the outlying
country, with varied products of farm, garden and dairy, as well as
wares of all kinds, which are offered for sale in the great market-house
of the town.
"Camborne Feast" is a harvest festival answering to our Thanksgiving. It
occurs on November 13.
[Illustration: BIRTHPLACE OF JOSEPH TOY]
In the little hamlet of Roskear, an outlying village of Camborne, my
father, Joseph Toy, was born. The long, low stone cottage, with small
windows and overhanging roof, still stands. A narrow drive runs in from
the village street, and a low stone wall separates it from the plain
yard in front adorned with here and there a shrub or climbing vine. The
house is little changed since the large family of children were
sheltered under its eaves and played about the yard, and the dear mother
spread the simple food on the white table, and sanded the well-scoured
floor. My father was born in April, 1808. He was the son of Robert and
Ann Hosking Toy. He was the youngest of eight children: John, Robert,
Nicholas, William, James, Joseph, and his sisters Mary Ann (Mrs. Sims),
and Nanny (Mrs. Granville). His parents were honest, God-fearing people,
training their children to a life of industry and integrity, and early
leading them into the ways of piety and obedience. Joseph, being a
bright, attractive child, and possessing an affectionate nature, was
very naturally the pet and darling of the family. While he was quite
young his father died suddenly, and as the elder children were mostly
married, the home was broken up, and he, with his widowed mother, was
received into the family of his brother John, a man of much energy and
ability, who afterwards became captain of the West Seaton mine. In a few
years his mother, too, entered into rest, leaving her beloved Joseph to
the care of his elder brother, and well did that brother and his
estimable wife fulfill their trust. The home was full of love and
sunshine, and the most tender affection was lavished upon the young
brother. My uncle scarcely ever came home without the inquiry, "Where is
the dear boy?"
Mrs. Jane Gilbert, my Uncle John's youngest daughter, writes thus of the
family. "Their father died when Joseph was a lad, but he was always a
great pet with his brothers. I have heard my father tell how when he was
going courting Joseph had cried to go with him, and he has taken him
many a time. Their mother died when your father was young, and he came
to him at our house and continued to live with us until his marriage. So
my sisters looked upon him more as a brother than an uncle. I can
remember that when the letter came to father announcing your dear
mother's death, he wept aloud and said, 'Poor little Joe!' Their
mother's maiden name was Ann Davey, and she was born at Nans Nuke
Illogan. She was a grand old Christian, a splendid character and
handsome. I have always heard her children speak of her with reverence
and love. Our grandfather's mother's name was Andrews, and she was born
in the parish of Newlyn East."
The circumstances of the family made it necessary that all should share
in its support, and, as soon as he was thought capable, my father was
put--as were other children of his age--to do such work at the mine as
was then almost the only employment open to children. They were set at
picking up the ore for wheeling from the opening, and other light work
suited to their age, the labor and responsibility being increased as
they grew older. The advantages of education for the children of the
working classes were few indeed at that day, and where so many mouths
were to be fed, but little could be spared for books or schooling. My
father early developed a fondness for reading which grew into an earnest
thirst for knowledge, leading him to devote much of the time spent by
other boys in play to the search for it as for hid treasure.
There was considerable natural musical talent in the family, and, as my
father had a sweet voice, he was early taken into the surpliced
boy-choir of the parish church, to which one or two of his brothers
belonged, though his family were devoted members of the Wesleyan church
of Camborne. The beautiful ritual of the church and its impressive
services had a refining influence upon the sensitive boy, and the
musical training he there received was of much value to him, and gave
him much enjoyment in after life. He used to speak with enthusiasm of
this experience, and I have often heard him tell of the delight with
which the boys would go forth in the frosty air of the Christmas morning
to sing carols under the windows of their friends, and how eagerly they
would catch the pennies which were thrown from the windows in response
to their greeting. The drinking habit of those days was universal, and
total abstinence was a thing unknown; and I have heard him say that the
good rector, Parson Rogers, would often pat the boys affectionately when
they had done particularly well, and say, "You have done well, boys. Now
come with me and have a little drop of something warm." His connection
with the parish choir was also the means of attracting the notice of
some people of influence who were afterwards of much assistance to him.
As he grew older, his interest in education increased greatly, and
produced a distaste for the drudgery of his life at the mine. The
conviction grew upon him that he was fitted for something better, and
while he patiently bided his time, he was diligently improving every
opportunity for study. Kind friends soon noticed the boy's struggles,
and began to encourage him by lending him books, assisting him in
evening studies, and giving him help in every possible way. Prominent
among these were Mr. Thomas Davey, Mr. Thomas Garland, Dr. George Smith,
the author and scholar, Lady Bassett, and Lord De Dunstanville of
Tehidy, whose kindness and sympathy were very helpful.
At the age of nineteen my father passed the religious crisis of his
life, and his conversion was thorough and complete. He united with the
Wesleyan church, and threw himself with all the ardor of his nature into
its Christian work. He was very active in the social meetings, and
showed such decided talent in that line that he was soon appointed a
class-leader. He was also a teacher in the Sunday School, where he
showed such aptitude for the work as to incline him to the profession of
teaching as a vocation. He became Superintendent of the Sunday School,
and was soon licensed to preach, receiving an appointment as local
preacher on a circuit.
By untiring diligence he had qualified himself for the position of
teacher and obtained a situation in one of the Lancastrian schools, so
popular at that day, located in Camborne. He filled this position for
some years with much acceptance, continuing at the same time his own
studies, until he acquired, almost wholly by his own exertions, a solid
and excellent education. He was a good English scholar, a fine reader,
carefully exact in spelling and pronunciation, well read in history, a
good mathematician, fairly proficient in algebra and geometry, with
considerable knowledge of Latin, Greek, and French. He demonstrated
clearly what can be accomplished by any boy with a good mind, by energy
and perseverance, in the face of the most serious obstacles.
[Illustration: BENJAMIN OSLER]
About this time he formed the acquaintance of Miss Jane Osler, a young
lady of refinement and culture, who was at that time proprietor of a
millinery establishment in Camborne; and he married her in 1833. My
mother was the daughter of Benjamin and Jane Osler of Falmouth, and was
born August 1, 1802. The family was a very excellent one. Benjamin Osler
was the son of Edward Osler and Joan Drew, sister of the famous Cornish
metaphysician. He was a man of very decided character, a "gentleman of
the old school." His discipline in his family was very strict, though
kind, the rod always occupying a conspicuous place over the mantel for
the admonition of any child inclined to disobedience. A fine miniature
of my Grandfather Osler is in my possession, and it is our most
cherished heirloom. It is in the form of a locket. The picture shows a
fine oval face, with delicate features, powdered hair, and the heavy
eyebrows we have learned to call "the Osler eyebrows." On the reverse
side it has the hair of my grandfather and grandmother, smoothly
crossed, and upon it the monogram, "B. J. O.," in exquisite letters
formed of tiny pearls. This locket was given to my mother by her father
when the family went out to the Cape of Good Hope, South Africa, in the
year 1819. It was painted in London some time previous to that.
In April, 1797, according to the Falmouth church register, my
grandfather married Jane Sawle, the daughter of Stephen Sawle of
Falmouth, an officer in the British navy and afterward Captain of a
Falmouth packet, the _Hanover_. A solid silver tankard is preserved in
our family, which was presented to our great-grandfather by the
British Admiralty. It bears this inscription: "For twenty years'
faithful service"; and on the side, the letters, "S. S." It is now the
property of my sister, Mrs. R. H. Ensign. There is also somewhere in the
Osler family a picture of our Grandfather Sawle, an old gentleman in
naval uniform.
My mother was also one of a large family, which consisted of eight girls
and two brothers.[1] They were: Susan, Eliza, Mary Ann, Amelia,
Philippa, Jane, Julia, Sarah, Stephen, and Benjamin.
While my mother was still young, her father went out to the Cape of Good
Hope, in charge of a colony of settlers. Dr. William Osler has kindly
loaned me a diary of my grandfather's, containing lists of provisions
and supplies purchased for the party, as well as other items. The
entries extend from January 3, 1815, to January 25, 1821. There seem to
have been in the party fourteen men, sixteen women, one boy, and three
girls. All payments were to be made in a proportion of the products of
the land. My grandfather settled in Simons Town, with most of his
family, and was probably a magistrate of the new colony. Two of the
daughters, Julia and Philippa, being in business in England, had
remained behind. My mother was left in the care of her mother's sister,
Mrs. John Harris. They were people of some culture, and having no
children of their own, were very fond of my mother and gave careful
attention to the cultivation of her mind and manners. Her uncle took
special delight in training her in reading and elocution. I have often
heard her recite with much spirit:
"My name is Norval. On the Grampian hills
My father feeds his flock";
also many selections from the Iliad and Odyssey, taught her by her
uncle. Her home with these dear friends was most pleasant, and she
cherished the loving memory of their kindness all her life. It found
expression in the name she gave to me, her first-born, of Mary Harris.
She learned her business while she remained with them, and became the
head woman in a large millinery establishment in Falmouth, and
afterwards set up in business for herself in Camborne. My mother became
a member of the Church of England, to which all her family belonged, at
the age of seventeen, and so continued till near her marriage, when she
united with the Wesleyan church in Camborne.
My grandfather Osler died at Simons Town, after some years' residence
there. My grandmother returned to her English home, but most of the
children, being married and settled in business at the Cape, made their
homes permanently there, and their descendants are now living mostly in
Simons Town and in Cape Town. After my grandmother's return to England,
she taught for a time a school for girls; but later came to Camborne and
made her home with her daughters who were in business there. Her home
was with my mother till her departure for America.
While my mother remained in Falmouth, her Aunt Osler, the last of the
old family, lived near her with her two daughters, and they were a
great comfort to her. This Aunt Osler died in April, 1864. She was Mary
Paddy Osler, the wife of my grandfather's eldest brother, Edward. Their
eldest son, Edward, has descendants in Canada, with whom we have had
very pleasant relations, and a daughter, Mary, was the mother of Mrs.
Truran of Truro. Another son, Rev. Featherstone Osler, came out to
Canada as a missionary, and became the founder of a large and
influential family there. Our own relationship to them has been only
lately discovered, and has been the source of much pleasure to us. Mrs.
Featherstone Osler died at the age of one hundred, in 1907, a woman very
remarkable and greatly beloved; and her large family of sons, including
Dr. William Osler of Oxford, Hon. Justice Osler of Toronto, Britton Bath
Osler, the eminent lawyer, and Mr. Edmund Osler, the financier are all
distinguished in public life.
Of my mother's sisters, Susan married a Mr. Fineran of Cape Town, and
had an interesting family of children. She was early left a widow. Her
daughter, Mrs. Kate Divine, has written me several times, and given me
interesting details of the family. One daughter went to New Zealand to
live after her marriage; one son, Charles, died early. Mrs. Divine's
son, Edmund, went to sea quite young, in a British ship, and coming to
New York, visited us all, which was a great pleasure. Mrs. Divine is now
quite an invalid, and with her unmarried daughter, Maude, lives in
Plumstead, a suburb of Cape Town, very near two of her sons and their
families.
Mary Ann married Mr. Sayers of Simons Town, and her children are still
there. She was a very lovely character, and died about 1855, after a
long and severe illness borne with great fortitude and patience. The
inscription chosen for her tombstone was the same as that on my
mother's: Rev. xiv: 13. Her daughter, Mrs. Eliza Storrier, has written
me under date March 13, 1882, from the address: Mrs. J. E. Storrier,
Patent Slip, Simons Town.
Eliza Osler married Mr. Jordan, and lived at Wynberg, Cape of Good Hope.
Her husband was in good business, and they had a family of seven
daughters and one son. She was also left a widow.
Philippa married Mr. William Cogill, a merchant of Simons Town, who had
several children. She had three of her own--two sons and a daughter,
Julia, who married a Captain Bray and went to England to live. She was
left a widow with two children, in rather unpleasant circumstances. I
corresponded for some time with my Aunt Philippa, and her son Arthur,
who was at sea, came into the port of Boston at one time and we went to
see him while in port. Aunt Philippa died February 14, 1879. She had a
stroke of apoplexy and lingered for twenty-four hours, but never
regained consciousness. She was a woman of lovely character, and an
earnest Christian.
Julia Osler, who, with Aunt Philippa, went out to the Cape after we left
England, was married there and had one child, but died early. I have not
the name of her husband.
Amelia married Gilbert Williams of Falmouth, who followed the sea. She
sometimes went with him, leaving her two children, Gilbert and Amelia,
with her mother. The son, Gilbert, lived in Falmouth. He was an
engineer, and had a large family. We visited them while in England. One
daughter was named Mary Harris Dodge, for me, and one Julia Osler, for
my sister Julia. My cousin Gilbert had a good mind and was well
educated, but was never very successful in life. He died several years
ago. His children are doing well, and are still located in Falmouth. His
sister Amelia had always lived with them, being of feeble intellect and
a great care. My Aunt Williams had a hard struggle in life. She was
early left a widow, and her health was delicate, but she supported her
family by teaching, and educated her children. Her health failed,
however, and at last her reason gave way. She was for some time in the
Bodmin Asylum, but later her reason returned, and she lived some years
with her son, and died in Falmouth a few years ago.
Sarah, the youngest daughter, was nine years of age when the family
returned from the Cape. She was adopted by her Aunt Harris and her
husband, and through them received an excellent education--a thing very
difficult to acquire in those days. She remained with them till their
death, then went to Camborne to her sisters, and afterwards secured a
situation in Truro, where she became engaged to a man much older than
herself. She lost her interest in him as the time drew near for her
marriage, and determined not to marry him. Hearing of a family who were
going to Gibraltar and wished a governess, she at once secured the
position, and after a hasty farewell to her mother, having gained her
very unwilling consent, she left England in two days. This was in 1838.
In 1840 she married Mr. Watson, of Edinburgh, Scotland, who belonged to
the Royal Artillery. At the end of two years they returned to England,
and were stationed at Woolwich, but in 1845 they removed to Edinburgh.
In 1852 the discovery of gold in Australia created a rush to that
colony. My Aunt Sarah with her family removed there, her husband joining
in the search for gold with varying success, while she labored
energetically to rear and educate her children.
She was a widow for some years before her death. Her children, of whom
six lived to grow up, were a great comfort and an honor to her. They are
all respectably settled in Australia. Her eldest daughter, Julia Osler,
married a Mr. Thomas Sayle, and they now live at Queenscliff, Australia.
My sister Julia met them in her journey to the East, in 1900, as well as
another daughter, Mrs. Evans, and two sons, William and Arthur, the
latter of whom has since died. My Aunt Watson died after a short illness
a few years ago,--I have not the exact date. In a letter received from
my Aunt Sarah, dated June 10, 1872, she thus speaks of my mother:--
"My first recollection of your mother was when we returned from the
Cape. I was then nine years old. She was much occupied by business, but
often on evenings she would take a walk in a quiet, beautiful lane near
our home, with your Aunt Phillis and myself. In these rambles I first
learned to love nature and poetry, for, to our delight, she would repeat
to us choice poems which I have never forgotten. She sowed the seeds of
a love of literature in my mind, which time has never effaced and which
has been a solace to me in prosperity and adversity. I never think of my
dear sister Jane but as the most perfect and consistent Christian I ever
knew."
She also quotes from a letter written to her by my mother, August 15,
1844, in which she says:--
"Mary is smaller than our other children, but she is a kind-hearted
little creature, and is able to render me many little services. I think
her disposition resembles that of our dear mother. Joseph is naturally
self-willed, and little Susan volatile. Ann Jane is now two years old.
She is an engaging little creature, and can sing and talk remarkably
well. She is named for her two grandmothers."
Of the two sons, my Uncle Stephen Osler remained at the Cape. He was for
many years a teacher in the government schools. I had for some years an
interesting correspondence with him. He had two sons, Stephen and
Benjamin, and a very sweet daughter, Katherine Jane, who died quite
young. The sons were both men of position and influence at the Cape. My
uncle and his wife both died some years ago.
My Uncle Benjamin returned to England and established his business
there. He lived for some years in Barnstaple, and died of apoplexy,
February 3, 1864. He left two sons, both of whom were men of character.
One of them, Rev. Benjamin Osler of Exmouth, afterwards became a Baptist
clergyman. I have recently had a delightful correspondence with him, and
my sister Susan has met him and his family. He has two sons, John
Stephen and Ernest Edward, both of whom have children.
I should have inserted before a sketch of the family of my Uncle John
Toy, with whom we have been more intimately connected than with any
other branch of either family. My uncle married Jane Rule of Camborne,
and they had four daughters and one son. The eldest, Mary Ann, married
Mr. Josephus Snell. He was a builder and contractor, and had a
prosperous business. They removed to London, and most of their life was
spent there. They had a very pleasant home, and Mr. Snell owned several
houses which he rented. They have both died within a few years. The
second daughter, Amelia, married James Snell, a brother of Josephus.
They had two daughters. Asenath, the elder, was adopted by her Uncle
Josephus, as they had no children of their own. She married Edward
Brundell, and their home was in London. Louisa, the younger, always
lived with her parents. My cousin Amelia died quite suddenly about two
years ago. Jennefer married Philip Morshead of Camborne. They had two
children: a son, John, who has always been a teacher, and a daughter,
Annie Davis, who has been also a very successful teacher. My cousin
Jennefer was a little older than myself, and was very fond of us as
children before we left England. She was a favorite of my mother, and I
always corresponded with her occasionally. Both she and her husband have
recently died. Jane, the youngest, married John Gilbert, since captain
of one of the large mines, and a man of much intelligence and influence.
He has made several visits to America in the interest of the mines, also
he was sent to India, where he was employed for two years by the
mine-owners. They have a pleasant home in Camborne and three fine
children: two sons, Arthur and Bertie, who are both in business, and
Leonora, a sweet girl who is soon to be married to a Wesleyan
minister.[2] The only son, John Toy, was not as successful as the rest.
He came to America, and went from here to Australia, where he died some
years ago.
I wish also to mention the family of my aunt, Mrs. Mary Ann Sims. She
was my father's only remaining sister when we visited England in 1882.
She was then living with her daughter, Mrs. Arthur, in Camborne, and was
about eighty years of age. She was a lovely old lady, petite in figure,
exquisitely neat in dress, her face beaming with kindness from beneath
one of the snowy caps with which her grandson, Johnnie Arthur, delighted
to keep her supplied. She was greatly beloved by her grandchildren, and
the pet of all the nieces and nephews. She reared a large family of
children, who are widely scattered. One son has long lived in Norway,
and is the father of Joseph Sims of Simsbury, Connecticut. One is the
Rev. James Sims[3] of Council Bluffs, Iowa, who was for many years a
Methodist minister in Wisconsin. Reverend and Mrs. James Sims celebrated
the sixtieth anniversary of their marriage in 1907, when they were both
over eighty. They had ten children, of whom seven are still living, Mrs.
Mary Bainbridge being best known to us. Two sons and two daughters are
living in England.
My Aunt Sims had a cosy cottage at Carwinning, in the country, a few
miles from Camborne; and it was one of my mother's chief pleasures to
take her little children to this pleasant country home, where we were
always cordially welcomed and treated to the best of Cornish cream and
gooseberry pasties. It was a pleasant relief from her busy and confining
life in the shop where she personally superintended her millinery
business.
My father lived, for over five years after his marriage, in Camborne,
holding the position of principal of the Lancastrian School, and making
himself very useful as local preacher and class-leader in the Wesleyan
church. Three children were born to them in these happy days of their
early married life. I was the first-born, and was ushered into life
October 31, 1834, at about 8 o'clock in the morning. I have often heard
my father speak of the joy he felt when I was placed in his arms for the
first time. The second was my brother Joseph, born July 23, 1836, a
bright, active boy, who made life busy for those who had the care of
him. Then came my sister Susan, born June 3, 1838. She was the household
pet when we turned our faces from the dear old home to seek a new one in
a land of strangers. This great change which now came into our family
life was in connection with the introduction of the manufacture of
safety fuses into America. The firm, having an established and lucrative
business in England, naturally sought to enlarge and extend it, and
America was considered an inviting field for the new industry.
About this time Mr. Richard Bacon of Simsbury, Connecticut, was
travelling in England in the interest of copper-mining, which was then
carried on at the old prison in East Granby, Connecticut, known as
Newgate. He met with the firm of Bickford, Smith & Davey, and they
determined to make an effort through him to introduce their business
into America. The first attempt was accordingly made at the old prison,
with some success. It had been transferred to Simsbury, and was in
successful operation there, when, in the summer of 1839, my father, who
was well and favorably known to the firm, and had been greatly
encouraged and befriended by Mr. Smith and Mr. Davey, and in their
employ, received from them an offer of a position as bookkeeper in the
American establishment, which was known as Bacon, Bickford & Co., with
what was for those days a good salary. The accounts of the new branch
were confused and unsatisfactory, and the company desired to have
accurate statements rendered. It was a fine opening for the future for
my father, as was proved a few years later when he became a member of
the firm of which he was afterwards the head.
This startling proposition brought a season of anxious thought and
prayerful consideration into the little home. My mother was well
established in her business; her mother and two sisters were with her;
her love for her English home and friends was deep and true; and she
shrank with all the force of her loving nature from the separation. The
journey was long and trying. No ocean steamers made the voyage a
pleasant pastime of a few days. Long weeks of tossing on the stormy
ocean were to be followed by the search for a new home in a land of
strangers. But with my mother the voice of duty was always the voice of
God. The prospects of a wider field for her husband, and enlarged
opportunities for her children, were not to be neglected. Her decision
was made, and saying, as did Ruth, "Where thou goest, I will go," she
bravely put away the arms of love which would have held her back, and
set herself to the task of closing her business and arranging for her
journey. At length the preparations were over. The last farewells were
said to the dear little home, to the church they loved and had served so
faithfully, and to the dear ones from whom it was so hard to part. The
van laden with luggage for the voyage, with space reserved for the
family, was ready to start; and amid the tears and prayers of those who
loved them, the dear old home faded forever from the eyes of my father
and mother.
The first stage of the journey was to Falmouth, my mother's early home,
where we remained for a rest of a day or two with my mother's sister,
Mrs. Williams. Pleasant days they were, of loving sisterly communion.
The children, wild with the excitement of the new experience, were
eagerly spying out the wonders of the city, in company with their
cousins. My brother Joseph, a bold, adventurous little fellow of
scarcely three, wandered off one day, to the great anxiety of his
mother. He was found, after a long search, by my aunt, gazing intently
into the mysteries of a rope-walk. Seeing his aunt, he exclaimed,
eagerly, "Oh, here comes Aunt Philippa! Now we'll go through the gate!"
These pleasant days soon passed, and with renewed good-byes, we left for
Portsmouth, from which port we were to sail. A vexatious delay of some
days was experienced there, but at last the good ship spread her sails
and stood off down the harbor. With tearful eyes they stood on deck and
watched the receding shores of their dear native land fade from their
sight. Then, with new devotion to each other and to the God who was
leading them, they turned with hope and courage to the new life opening
before them.
For six long weeks the vessel ploughed its way over the heaving sea. My
father was almost immediately prostrated by sea-sickness, and for most
of the passage was confined to the stateroom, unable to render any
assistance in the care of the family. My mother bravely rose to the
emergency, caring for her sick husband and the restless children, and
bearing the weariness and discomfort of the voyage without a murmur. My
brother Joseph, being of an inquiring mind and full of restless energy,
was constantly wandering about the ship, exploring every new place,
talking with the sailors, trying to climb the ropes, and requiring
unceasing vigilance to keep him from harm. Little Susan, then just past
her first birthday, learned to walk on board the ship, and one of her
first exploits in climbing about was to upset a teapot of hot tea into
her bosom, making a bad scald of which she carries the scars to this
day, thus adding much to the care and anxiety of her mother.
At last the weary weeks wore away, and their eyes were gladdened by the
sight of land. On the eighteenth of August, 1839, they made safe anchor
in the harbor of New York. From there an easy sail by the Sound brought
them to Hartford. Once more the luggage was mounted on a heavy wagon,
with space reserved for the family, and they were off on the ten-mile
drive over the mountains to Simsbury, their place of destination.
As the afternoon was wearing away, they came to the top of the high hill
rising abruptly at the eastern end of the street of East Weatogue,
where their journey was cut short by the breaking down of the wagon. The
prospect which opened before them was beautiful indeed. The little
village which was to be their home nestled at the foot of the mountain
range, while fertile meadows stretched away in the distance, through
which the Farmington river with its wooded banks wound its peaceful way,
the horizon bounded by the range of mountains west of the town. It was a
lovely picture, but the way-worn travellers could not realize its
beauty, as they alighted from the broken wagon, and took their weary way
down the hill to the village, leaving the driver to repair the wagon and
follow later. My mother, walking on, came to a hospitable-looking home
and ventured to ask a drink for the tired children. A pleasant-faced
matron greeted them kindly, invited them in to rest, and offering my
mother a cup of tea, proceeded to regale the hungry children with bread
and molasses. This was their first welcome to their new home. My mother
rejoiced to find that her new friend was from the dear home land, also
that her husband was in the employ of the same firm. They became
lifelong friends, and in sickness and in health it was their delight to
show a sisterly kindness to each other. This good woman was "Auntie
Whitehead," a warm friend of our family, who has since joined my mother
in the heavenly home.
At last, as the evening shadows were falling, the heavy wagon came
slowly down the mountain, and we were lodged in our first home in
America. It was an old-fashioned New England house, with long sloping
roof and lean-to running down behind. It is still standing and in fair
repair, just opposite the Cornish house, which stood by the old
schoolhouse in East Weatogue. One half the house was occupied by the
family of Mr. Joseph Eales, who was a member of the firm. We remained
there for a time, and afterwards removed to the house standing where Mr.
Aman Latimer's house now stands. But, desiring a more permanent home, my
father bought the farm owned by Mr. Roswell Phelps, lying just at the
foot of the mountain. It is now owned by Mr. Henry Ensign. My mother
rejoiced to feel that at last her wanderings were over and she was
settled in a home of her own.
[Illustration: THE HOME IN EAST WEATOGUE]
How plainly I can see it now! The plain house with its gambrel roof and
double front-doors kept secure by a stout oak bar resting in sockets of
iron; the narrow front hall, the family sitting-room on one side, with
the east door opening on the grassy yard; and the wide stone steps, our
only piazza. The parlor was on the west of the hall, with its ingrain
carpet and plain furniture, which then seemed quite fine to my childish
eyes. The best bed standing in the corner with the heavy English
counterpane was one of the conspicuous features of the room. Behind was
the long kitchen with its great fireplace, my mother's bedroom at one
end, and a smaller one for the children at the other. Plain and simple,
indeed, and even bare as compared with the homes of these days, as was
this home of our childhood, it was "sweet home" to us, for it was bright
with the love that made our lives all sunshine, and peace and
contentment were our constant guests.
Two large buttonwood trees stood at the front gate, up to which led
some stone steps. By the street was an open shed under which wagons
could drive, and beyond was the garden with the great apple tree at the
top of it, flanked by peach trees, whose fruit was "sweet to our taste."
Behind the house was the well with its long sweep and its "oaken
bucket," which was our only refrigerator. It sometimes befell that a
luckless pail of cream or butter fell to the bottom. Then one of the
children was despatched in haste over the fields to borrow neighbor
Bissel's iron creepers, and great was the excitement as we watched the
grappling which surely brought up the pail, if not always the contents.
There, too, was the old pear tree, in the back garden, whose fruit was
so delicious as we ran out in the early morning to gather what had
fallen during the night; and the orchard with its long grass, often
trampled in our hasty search for the "golden sweets" which strewed the
ground. The hill rising at the back of it was crowned with the fine
spreading chestnut trees, which were such a joy to us in the autumn when
the frost had opened the burs and strewed the brown nuts on the ground.
Behind the house was the barn, with the cow which we early learned to
milk, and the white horse which carried the family to church on Sunday,
and my father on his semi-weekly journeys to the post office in
Hopmeadow. For daily mails were unknown in the peaceful valley then. The
yellow stage rumbled through the streets on its semi-weekly trip from
Hartford and was hailed with joy as a messenger from the great world
beyond.
Across the brook and farther down the street was the little brown
schoolhouse, with its stiff hard benches, and open Franklin stove.
Behind was an old apple tree, and a barnyard flanked it on the north
side. There was a row of maples under which we played, and built stone
houses in the soft sand, making wonderful china closets of bricks and
shingles and filling them with bits of bright crockery laboriously
gathered from the children's homes and carried to school in our aprons.
Early rising was the rule in our house, for the early breakfast was
always preceded by family prayers, from which none might be excused;
and after it my father went to his office and the children to school. We
were happy children then; our simple sports and homely pleasures had a
zest which, it seems to me, children in these days of multiplied means
of diversion know little of. The free life of the fields and woods; the
fun of driving the cows to and from the mountain pastures, and, in
spring, carrying home pails of maple sap, and boiling it into sugar;
scouring the mountain-sides and pastures for berries and nuts, picking
up apples and potatoes in the fall, by which we gained a little money
which was all our own; and, in winter, the joys of coasting down the
steep hill and far across the fields below by moonlight. The wonderful
snow-forts our brothers built and stormed, and the rides over the snow
behind the frisky steers on the ox-sled they made; in-doors the
home-made dolls and pleasant games, and in the evenings the delightful
stories and songs with which our mother entertained us--all these were
enjoyed with a relish so keen as to leave nothing more to be desired.
As was most natural, my parents immediately connected themselves with
the church of their choice in their new home. The little band composing
the Methodist Episcopal church, which answered to the Wesleyan they had
left at home, had at that time no church edifice and were holding
Sabbath services in the schoolhouses, mostly at West Weatogue, about a
mile from our house. I well remember pleasant Sabbath morning walks down
the village street, through the "River Lane," bordered by a tall row of
Normandy poplars, over the bridge and by the sheep-fold of Squire Owen
Pettibone at the corner, where we were allowed, much to our delight, to
stop to look at the young lambs with their soft white coats and bright
eyes. I remember, too, the weekly evening prayer-meetings held at our
own schoolhouse at "early candle-light," when lamps and chairs were
brought in by the neighbors, and the simple service, generally conducted
by my father, was often as "the house of God and the gate of heaven" to
the earnest worshippers. It sometimes happened in the spring-time, when
the swollen river flooded the meadows and made the roads along its
banks impassable, that the brook which crossed our street was raised to
a small river, and the street could be crossed only by boats. When this
occurred on a Sabbath the young men would bring a boat, and to our great
delight we were rowed over, and the neighbors gathered at the
schoolhouse for a Sabbath service at which my father preached.
His talents as a preacher and religious leader were soon perceived and
appreciated by the people, and his services were in much demand. It is
said that he preached in the schoolhouse at West Weatogue on the evening
after his arrival in Simsbury. In those early days he preached
frequently, supplying every alternate Sabbath for many of the weaker
churches in the vicinity which could not afford a regular pastor. He
preached in this way at North Canton, Granby, Bloomfield, Washington
Hill, Newfield, Burlington, and many other places. He would often start
off on Saturday afternoon for a drive of ten or fifteen miles, leaving
his little family to get to church on Sunday as best they could. In cold
weather he would wrap himself in his long cloak brought over from
England, and with the faithful white horse, go forth to wrestle with the
wintry winds and snows, often not returning till Monday. In 1840 the
Methodist Episcopal church edifice was built, on land donated by Squire
Ensign, a Congregationalist. My father, J. O. Phelps, Esquire, and Mr.
Edward C. Vining were appointed building-committee. Through their
earnest efforts, it was finally located at Hopmeadow, in spite of strong
opposition from some of the most influential members, who resided at
"Cases' Farms," now West Simsbury, and who favored its erection there.
It was said of my father by his pastor, Rev. I. Simmons, "He was one of
the most efficient workers and liberal givers in the erection of the
Simsbury church." A contribution was secured by his efforts from the
English firm to aid in building the church. It was a plain white
structure with long windows and green blinds. The steeple much resembled
that of the present Congregational church, but was smaller. They have
been not inaptly compared to two boxes piled on one another. The
pleasant-toned bell still hangs in the church tower, and it was music
in the ears of the little company of Methodists, when its clear notes
rang out over the meadows and hillsides, calling them to worship in a
church of their own.
The interior was very simple: the plain pews with high doors; the
swinging gallery at the rear with the stiff green curtains on brass
rings across the front, which were drawn with all due ceremony when the
preliminary sounding of the tuning fork announced the beginning of
preparations for singing; the plain white pulpit with its purple velvet
cushion and hangings and straight seat cushioned with green baize, its
door closed and carefully buttoned after the minister had ascended the
narrow stairs; the high altar railing inclosing the communion table at
which it was so tiresome for children to kneel;--all these form a vivid
picture in my memory. Some years later an improvement(?) was introduced
which was thought to be a marvel of art, in the shape of a fresco behind
the pulpit. It represented two heavy curtains, supported by pillars on
each side, looped back by a large cord with immense dark tassels. This
was the wonder of our childish eyes for many years. Two large box stoves
stood near the entrance doors, at which I used to stand tremblingly to
warm myself after our cold ride in winter, while the stalwart young
sexton, whose rough manners concealed a kind heart, raked at the glowing
coals with his long poker and thrust in the big sticks which soon sent a
glow through our chilled hands and feet. The plain little church has
been transformed into a neat modern one with a corner tower,[4] and the
worshippers with whom my memory fills those pews all lie quietly
sleeping on the hillside in the neighboring cemetery. Only their
children remain to remind us of them and the good work they did in those
early days, but their memory is green, and the fruit of their labors is
enjoyed by their children to-day.
In 1844 my father served as pastor of the Simsbury church, giving his
services that the church might free itself from debt, which it did. He
conducted during all those years a Bible class of ladies in the Sunday
School, by whom he was greatly appreciated and beloved. The Sabbaths of
those early days were far from being "days of rest" to my father and
mother. They were obliged to rise early to get the family ready for
church, leaving home at about half-past nine for the two-mile ride to
Hopmeadow. Then the two services with Sunday School between, and the
drive home occupied the time till four P. M. Then my mother had to
prepare the warm supper, and when all was over it was nearly time for
the evening prayers, which were never omitted. Not until the restless
children were in bed and soothed to sleep by the sweet hymns she used to
sing to us, was there a moment of quiet rest for the dear mother. My
father at that time always drove to Hopmeadow for the evening service,
and later one or two of the older children were allowed to go with him.
In pleasant weather, when my father was absent on his preaching tours,
my mother would take such of the children as were old enough, and walk
to church on Sabbath mornings, leaving the little ones with her friend
Mrs. Whitehead.
One of the chief pleasures of that early time was the receipt of letters
from the dear mother and sisters left behind, for letters were indeed
like angels' visits then. They were full of tender memories and loving
messages for the dear ones over the sea. One of my most cherished
mementos is a letter written to my mother by my Grandmother Osler in
October, 1839, in which she speaks of her joy in hearing of our safe
arrival and settlement in our new home and of how much she missed my
mother, and her affectionate longing to see the children who were so
dear to her. She says,--
"Kiss the three darling children for me. I cannot express my love for
them and you, nor my feelings on account of the great distance between
us. I shed many tears in reading your much valued letter over and over
again. You are all generally uppermost in my thoughts, and I find you
wanting more than I can describe. I am very glad you like the appearance
of the country and that you were so kindly received. I hope the winters
will be more mild than we expected, and that by the blessing of the
Almighty you will all be happy and comfortable. Oh! how I would love to
see my beloved little Mary, and my darling little Joseph, who seems
inclined to remember me by expecting to find me in his new home, and I
should have been much pleased to see my dear, sweet, pretty little Susan
take to run off, but suppose the misfortune of pulling the hot tea over
into her tender bosom put her back some time. Pretty dear! I used to
love them all as if they were my own."