"I hope the Lord will give me strength according to my day, and by His
divine assistance, may I and all of you be led on by His grace in the
way to everlasting life."
Such was the love and blessing which descended to us from our godly
ancestors. As nearly as I can learn, my grandmother Osler died in 1842,
about three years after our coming to America. I well remember my
mother's grief when the sad tidings came, and the black dress she wore
for some time afterward. Her sisters Julia and Philippa soon returned to
the Cape of Good Hope, where their brother and sisters were, and both
were married there, but my Aunt Julia only lived a short time, dying
soon after the birth of her first child. The sad news came to my mother
just before the birth of my sister Julia, and she was named for this
dear sister. My mother always loved dear old England with a right loyal
affection. She always spoke of it lovingly as "Home," and cherished a
longing desire to revisit it at some future day, but she never allowed
any feeling of homesickness to interfere with present duty. Her whole
heart was given to her family. It was her highest joy to make home
bright and happy for her husband and children, though her heart was
large enough to take in the church and the neighborhood and every one to
whom she might do a kindness. From year to year she toiled patiently
and quietly on, with very little to relieve the monotony of her life.
Vacations were a thing unheard of in that day, especially for women, and
though my father made frequent journeys to various parts of the country
on business, it was not thought of as possible that the mother could
leave her post. But her life, so far from being dreary or unsatisfying,
was bright with the love and confidence of her husband and the affection
of her children. These were her "joy and crown," the approval of the
Saviour she loved and served was her constant inspiration, and her
well-stored mind, and her fondness for good reading furnished pleasant
occupation for her leisure hours.
So the years passed quietly and peacefully with little change in the
life of the family. Two other children came to bless the home, Ann Jane,
named for her two grandmothers, born February 23, 1842, and Julia Osler,
born June 14, 1845. I must not fail to make mention of one who played
quite an important part in the history of our family at this time. This
was a young woman named Lucinda Andrus, who came into the family April
1, 1843. She had employment in the factory and assisted my mother in
such ways as she could for her board. She was a woman of excellent
Christian character and great kindness of heart, though possessed of
strong peculiarities. She was warmly attached to my mother and the
children, and very self-sacrificing in her efforts to assist in every
possible way. She was, in this way, a member of our family for many
years, passing with us through scenes of joy and sorrow, always
identifying her interests with ours and giving the most faithful service
and unchanging friendship. She was a woman of shrewd good sense and
often quite witty, and her quaint remarks and amusing stories and songs
enlivened many an evening for the children. She was somewhat credulous,
and had great faith in dreams and omens, which we eagerly drank in,
somewhat to the discomfort of our mother, who was singularly free from
any trace of superstition, and was the very soul of truth in all her
conversation with her children. Lucinda married later in life old Mr.
Thomas Morton, who, as she herself allowed after his death, was not
always "the best of husbands," though she did think the minister "might
have said a little more about him at his funeral." Her married life was
burdened with hard work and poverty, but her last years were made quite
comfortable by the kindness of many friends who respected her and were
glad to assist her. She died in the autumn of 1896. She is remembered by
the young people of our family as "Aunt Lucinda."
We come now to the time when the clouds gathered heavily over the happy
family, and its sweet light went out in darkness. My mother had not been
in her usual good health during the summer, and had been at times a
little low-spirited. On Monday, July 19, 1848, my father went on a short
business trip to Boston, and returning found my mother quite poorly. On
Friday she felt decidedly ill and asked Lucinda to remain at home to
assist her, which she gladly did. That evening my father, who was
suffering from severe headache, asked my mother to offer prayer at the
evening worship, as she often did, and Lucinda, whose recollection of
those scenes was very vivid, describes it as one of the most remarkable
prayers she ever heard. The mother's whole soul seemed drawn out in
special pleading for her children, that God would make them His own, and
would care for them if she was taken away from them. On Saturday she was
much worse, and on Sunday her condition was very alarming. The disease
having developed as malignant erysipelas, one of the most experienced
and skilful physicians from Hartford was called, a good nurse put in
charge, and all that human skill could do was done to save the life so
precious to us all. But all in vain. It became evident during Monday
night that the end was near, and toward morning the family were gathered
at her bedside for the last farewell. She called each separately, and
commended them to God with her dying blessing.
Little Julia, only three years old, was in my father's arms, too young
to realize the sad parting. My mother asked, "Where is my little Annie?"
My father lifted her and she laid her hand on Annie's head, but could
not speak. My brother Joseph, always impulsive and warm-hearted, burst
into tears, and begged forgiveness for any trouble he might have caused
her. She spoke words of comfort to him and sank back exhausted. My
father asked her, "Is all well?" She answered, "All is well. It is well
with my soul." And so in the morning of July 27, 1848, at 6 A. M.,
gently and peacefully passed away one of the purest and sweetest spirits
that ever brightened this dark world. Her lifework was finished, and she
"entered into the joy of her Lord."
No relatives were near enough to comfort and help the family in this
time of trial, but neighbors and friends were unwearied in their
kindness and sympathy. One instance worthy of mention was that of a
young girl named Delia Foley, who was living with the Phelps family and
to whom my mother had shown kindness as a stranger. She volunteered her
services in preparing the dear form for burial, which was the more
remarkable as the disease was of such a nature that there was great fear
of contagion. This fact became known to me by accidentally finding Miss
Foley, who was now a gray-haired woman, in the family of Hon. Joshua
Hale of Newburyport, where she had been an honored and trusted servant
for nearly forty years. It was a great pleasure to me to meet her, and
to express to her, in such ways as I could, our gratitude for the great
kindness rendered to the living and to the dead in the years so long
gone by. I gladly record this as an instance of unselfish kindness all
too rare in a world like this.
It was in the sultry heat of summer that our great loss occurred, and
the oppressive weather seemed to increase the burden of our sorrow. I
well remember the desolation which settled down over the home on the
evening of that first sorrowful day. To add to the gloom, the
storm-clouds gathered darkly. The picture is forever printed in my
memory. The father and his little motherless flock were alone in the
upper chamber. The rain fell in torrents, the thunder crashed, and every
flash of lightning lit up the surrounding country and showed the tall
row of poplars in the distant lane, standing stiff and straight against
the stormy sky. No wonder that my father gave way to the grief he could
no longer control, and the children mingled their tears and sobs with
his in unutterable sorrow. The funeral service was held in the Methodist
Episcopal church, which was filled with friends who loved and honored my
mother in life and sincerely mourned her death. A funeral sermon was
preached by her pastor, Rev. M. N. Olmstead, from Acts xxvi, 8,--"Why
should it be thought a thing incredible with you that God should raise
the dead?"--in which the sorrowing family were led for comfort to the
glorious certainty of the resurrection; and afterwards the sad
procession took its way to the cemetery on the hillside. The little
children with their black bonnets and frocks were a pathetic picture
which appealed to the sympathy of every heart. The last solemn words
were said, and we left her there to the peaceful rest of those who sleep
in Jesus. The inscription on the stone above her resting-place--"Blessed
are the dead who die in the Lord"--was never more fitly applied.
The months passed on, and life resumed its usual course, but the painful
vacancy was sadly felt in the family. A housekeeper was obtained who
did what she could to fill the dreadful void, and our faithful Lucinda
remained at her post. But there was no real harmony, and the children
began to show the need of a mother's care and love. In this dilemma my
father's thoughts were turned, as was natural, towards some one who
might fill the important place, and in February, 1849, he married Mrs.
Sarah G. H. Merritt. She was the daughter of one of the old and
excellent families of the town, and had been for years a friend of my
father and mother, and belonged to the same church. She was married when
quite young to Mr. James Merritt, a young man of much promise, and went
with him to Spring Hill, Alabama, where they were both engaged in
teaching. In little more than a year he died, leaving her a widow before
the birth of her first child, which occurred soon after. Her adopted
sister had married Mr. Rush Tuller, a merchant in good business at
Spring Hill, and with them she found a home and all needed sympathy and
help in this time of trial. She was a woman of strong character and most
indomitable energy, and rising above her sorrow, she bravely set
herself to the task of earning a support for herself and her child. She
remained in her position as teacher till her son was old enough to be
left, and then coming north she left him in the care of her mother and
grandmother, and returned to take up her work. She was a woman of very
attractive personality and pleasant manners, vivacious and entertaining
in conversation, and though she had not been without opportunities to
change her situation, she remained a widow about ten years. Such was the
person whom my father brought to us as our new mother, and to make us
happy again. There were no relatives to interfere or to make unpleasant
comparisons, and we received her with love and confidence, gladly
yielding to her the respect and obedience we had been accustomed to give
to our own mother, and so the family life flowed on harmoniously. It was
no light task she had undertaken, to train a family of five children,
and she addressed herself to it with her accustomed energy and courage.
She identified herself fully with the family, and made our interests
her own. She endeavored faithfully to improve our manners, to teach us
to have confidence in ourselves, and to develop the best that was in us,
and in every way to promote the best interests of us all.
She brought with her as members of our family, her son, a boy of nine
years, and her mother. It might have been a question whether the new
elements would mingle harmoniously with the old, but in this case they
certainly did. We were delighted with the idea of a new brother, and he
and my brother Joseph, who was near his age, became and always continued
real brothers in heart. They were devotedly attached to each other, and
were inseparable till my brother's death. Her mother, Mrs. D. G.
Humphrey, was a lady of refinement and intelligence. Though delicate in
health and nervously weak, she bore with commendable patience the noise
of children, and the rushing life of such a large family, which was a
great contrast to the quietness of her former life. We rejoiced in the
acquisition of a grandma, as we had no remembrance of our own. She was
an honored member of our family for many years, and as many of her
tastes and sentiments were similar to my own, we were much together and
enjoyed each other's society.
The schools in our town were very unsatisfactory, and when I reached the
age of fifteen it was thought that some better advantages should be
given me. Accordingly, I was sent to Wilbraham Academy, one of the
oldest and best schools under Methodist auspices in all that region. I
was to room with my friend, Miss Mary Weston, of Simsbury, but as she
was not quite ready when the term began, I had to begin my experience
alone. I was taken by my father and mother in a carriage to Wilbraham, a
distance of about thirty miles. I was full of anticipation, and all was
well as long as they were with me, but I shall never forget the
heart-sinking which overwhelmed me when they left me the next day. When
I settled down at evening in my little bare room alone, I could not keep
the tears from falling as I thought of the pleasant home circle, and
heartily wished myself among them. The school buildings were in sharp
contrast to the beautiful and nicely adapted appointments of most of
the schools and colleges of to-day. They were plain to severity, and
some of them showed marks of years of hard usage. The halls and rooms of
our dormitory were uncarpeted. Each little room was furnished with a bed
with dark chintz spread, a small study table, two wooden chairs, a
little box stove for burning wood, and a triangular board fastened in
the corner, with a white muslin curtain, for a wash-stand, with a small
bookcase above it. These, with a small mirror, completed the furniture,
and dreary enough it looked to me on that sad evening. But with the
young, though "weeping may endure for a night, joy cometh in the
morning," and as my room-mate soon came, and I began to be acquainted
with the students and interested in my studies, I was very happy. The
two years I spent there were among the happiest and most profitable of
my life. My sister Susan joined me there the second year, and afterward
my brother Joseph. He was also sent later to a school for boys in
Norwich, Connecticut, and Susan afterwards attended a private school in
Milford, Connecticut. My sisters Annie and Julia were educated in the
Hartford schools. Annie also studied music at Music Vale Seminary,
Connecticut. Brother James Merritt studied with a private tutor, Mr. T.
G. Grassie, of Amherst College.
[Illustration: THE HOME ON CHESTNUT HILL]
It was the wish of my father that Joseph should have a college
education, but though he had a very bright mind, and was very literary
in his tastes, and himself a good writer, his choice was strongly for a
mechanical training. Accordingly, he was placed with the firm of Lincoln
Bros. of Hartford to learn the business of a machinist, and afterwards
worked with Woodruff & Beach of the same city. He became an expert in
the business, and some of the finest work was entrusted to him.
I should mention here the birth of two other children who were most
welcome additions to the family circle--George Bickford Davey, named for
the business partners, who was born March 18, 1852, and Sarah Jennette,
born October 26, 1857.
The year 1857 was one of severe financial crisis. Business of all kinds
was almost at a stand-still, and hundreds of workmen were everywhere
discharged. The younger men of course were the first to go, and both
Joseph and James, being unemployed, resolved to set off for the West and
take any chance that offered. After a short experience as farmers' help,
they both obtained schools in Illinois. This, however, continued but a
short time, as business revived, and Joseph came home and took a
position as machinist in the factory. James remained West, and was with
his uncle Humphrey's family in Quincy most of the time till he settled
later on a farm of his own.
That year was also marked by deep and extensive religious interest, and
both brothers became Christians during that year. So all of our family
were united in their religious life, as in all other things. In
December, 1859, a sad accident cast its dark shadow over us. My father's
factory was destroyed by fire. It was about 8 A. M. My father was
preparing to go to Hartford, and I was standing by him near a window,
when suddenly a sheet of flame shot from beneath the eaves of the
factory, lifting the roof, and instantly the wooden building was
enveloped in flames. The alarm and excitement were intense. A crowd soon
collected, and every effort was made to check the fire and to save those
in danger. But the explosion had done its deadly work, and eight of the
girls employed were instantly killed, while others were rescued with
great difficulty and were badly burned. My brother Joseph, who was at
that time employed in the machine department, found himself almost
without warning buried beneath a mass of falling timbers, while flames
and smoke poured in all about him. He managed to extricate himself, and
made a brave dash for his life. Carrying the window with him, he plunged
into the race-way of the water-wheel, and so escaped, though terribly
burned. The sad occurrence shrouded the town in gloom. The funeral of
the eight unfortunate girls was an event long to be remembered. The
company did everything in its power to care for the sufferers, and to
help the afflicted families, bearing all expenses and erecting a
monument to the dead.
My brother lingered through months of terrible suffering. For some time
his life was despaired of, but at last, by the blessing of God on the
efforts of the most skilful physicians, and with good nursing, he slowly
recovered. His nervous system, however, had received a shock from which
he never fully recovered. As mother was not at all well at that time,
most of the day nursing fell to me, while kind friends freely offered
their services for the nights. It was a long and trying experience and
was followed for me with quite a serious illness, but I always rejoiced
in the privilege of ministering to him in this time of greatest need.
In the autumn of 1860 occurred the exciting political campaign which
resulted in the election of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United
States. I need not describe here the gathering of the clouds nor the
bursting of the storm of civil war, whose mutterings had long been heard
in the distance. My brother was elected a member of the Connecticut
Legislature for 1861, and, though the youngest member, he was very
popular and made a fine record as a speaker on the floor of the House.
The war was the absorbing topic of the time. Energetic measures were
used to raise troops in response to the call of the President. A
committee of the legislature, of which my brother was one, was appointed
for this purpose. He threw himself into the cause of his country with
all the ardor of his nature. As he labored to induce others to enlist,
the conviction grew upon him that he must go himself, or he could not
ask others to do so, and when the news of the disaster at Bull Run
filled the country with dismay, the question was settled for him. Duty
called and he must go. The company of young men he had raised chose him
for its Captain, and in November, 1861, leaving his home and promising
business prospects, he with his company, Co. H, joined the Twelfth
Connecticut regiment, which was soon encamped at Hartford for drill. His
health was far from strong, and our family physician declared he should
never have consented to his going, but he passed the examination and was
accepted. He was very popular with his men, and they were ready to do
and dare anything with him.
The regiment was encamped at Hartford for the most of the winter, and in
the spring was ordered to join Gen. Butler in his expedition against New
Orleans. Before the departure, my brother was presented with a beautiful
sword and sash by his fellow-townsmen, as a testimonial of their
appreciation of his bravery. They left Hartford Feb. 26, 1862. The ship
was greatly crowded, and the voyage was made with many discomforts, but
on March 8 they reached Ship Island, where they were encamped for some
weeks. They were not ordered up to New Orleans until just after the
taking of the city, much to the disappointment of the young Captain, who
was ambitious to see a little of actual warfare. They were stationed at
Carrollton just above the city. The situation was low and unhealthy, and
my brother, who was greatly weakened by an attack of dysentery while at
Ship Island, was poorly able to resist the malaria of the region. He
felt his danger, and wrote home that if he felt it would be honorable,
he should be tempted to resign and come home. But as the young men he
had influenced to enlist had not the privilege of resigning, he could
not feel that he ought to leave them. He was attacked by typhoid fever
soon after the hot weather became intense. He was ill a few days in his
tent, but as he grew worse, he was removed to the regimental hospital, a
large house near the camp, where he had comfortable quarters and
excellent care. Kind comrades stood about his bed, anticipating with
brotherly kindness his every want. But the most skilful surgeons and
faithful nurses were powerless to save him. His system was too much
weakened to resist the disease, and after a short illness he passed
quietly away on the afternoon of Saturday, June 21, exchanging the
scenes of strife for the land of everlasting peace.
The sad news was flashed over the wires, carrying the deepest sorrow to
the home he had so lately left. The family gathered and waited in silent
grief for further particulars. A letter from his friend and First
Lieutenant, George H. Hanks of Hartford, soon told the sad story. He
gave full particulars of his Captain's last hours, and spoke of a
conversation they had just before his sickness, in which they mutually
promised that in case of the death of either, the survivor should take
charge of his effects and inform his friends, and said that he had
requested that if he should fall, his body should be sent home to
Simsbury. Lieut. Hanks says, "I promised, and to the extent of my
ability I have carried out his request, assisted by some of his townsmen
and personal friends who were at his bedside at the last hour. The body
is sent by steamer _McLellan_, in a cask of spirits, carefully fastened
in a sitting posture, dressed in full military uniform, and when it was
adjusted he looked so natural, one might imagine it was our dear Captain
sitting asleep in his chair, with his hands folded across his lap. But
alas! it is the long, silent sleep of death. Dear afflicted friends, it
is the saddest duty of my life, thus to return to you him who a few
months since took leave of you so buoyant and hopeful, and many a tear
have I shed while performing it. Possessing but few faults and many
virtues, generous to a fault, and honorable to the extreme, he was
universally esteemed and beloved by the entire regiment."
On arriving at New York, the body was transferred to a metallic casket
and sent to Simsbury. It was met at Plainville by a delegation of the
citizens, who with saddened hearts received him who had recently gone
out from them brave and bright and hopeful. The sad home-coming was
almost overwhelming to the family. They gathered sorrowfully to mingle
their tears for his early death. The body was taken to the Methodist
Episcopal church, but the public service was held in the Congregational
church, as the other was too small to accommodate the numbers who wished
to attend. The large church was filled with a throng of citizens of our
own and neighboring towns. Comrades, friends, companions, the Masonic
fraternity, all came to mingle their tears and sympathies with the
family and relatives, for the brave young life so early sacrificed, and
to do honor to him whom they all loved and lamented so sincerely. The
funeral discourse was given by the former pastor and dear friend of the
family, Rev. Ichabod Simmons of New Haven, from the text, II Timothy
iv:3--"A good soldier." It was a beautiful and appropriate tribute to
the departed, with words of hope and comfort for those who mourned him
so truly. After the service he was borne tenderly from the Methodist
church to his last rest in the hillside cemetery where he had requested
to be laid beside his beloved mother. The solemn burial service of the
Masonic order closed the services, and so the second great sorrow
settled down upon our home.
My brother was a young man of fine natural endowment and a most genial
disposition. He was greatly beloved at home, and popular everywhere,
especially among the young people, with whom he was always a leader. Mr.
Simmons said of him at his funeral: "It is a part of my mission to-day
to say that a young man of promise has fallen. An earnest and close
debater, a great reader of history, with a good memory, and an
imagination sparkling with poetry and beauty, he would have stood high
among the men of his day. He was a close thinker and reasoner, but never
anchored outside the clear, deep waters of the Bible. He was keenly
sensitive to the ridiculous, and on occasions could be very sarcastic,
yet his tenderness of feeling prevented his wit from wounding the most
sensitive. His nature was cast in a merry mould, his wit was original,
and in the social circle he was the happy pivot on which the pleasant
moments swung. The death of our friend is a general loss to this
community. He was a representative spirit among you. As a citizen you
had already learned to rank him high in your esteem. His large circle of
young friends are especially called to mourn. A bright light has gone
out among you."
The affliction fell with crushing force upon my father. His heart was
almost broken, and it was years before he recovered from the blow.
The events which now came into our family life were of a more cheerful
nature. The first break in the home circle was occasioned by my marriage
to Rev. John W. Dodge of Newburyport, Massachusetts, which occurred
November 7, 1860. Mr. Dodge was a graduate of Amherst and Andover, and
had at that time accepted a call to be pastor of the Congregational
church of Gardiner, Maine. Our acquaintance began by his coming to
Simsbury, in November, 1855, to teach a select school. His friend, Mr.
T. G. Grassie of Amherst, had taught it the year before with great
acceptance and was engaged to return, and as our family were greatly
interested in him, my mother had promised to take him as a boarder. He
was taken very ill during the fall term of college, and being unable to
fulfil his engagement, he sent his friend as substitute. So apparently
trivial events often change the whole current of our lives. We became
engaged during that winter, which was Mr. Dodge's junior year in
college. I attended his graduation in August, 1857, accompanied by my
cousin, Sarah Jane Tuller, and visited his home in Newburyport in the
summer of 1859. Though hampered by delicate health and small means, he
completed his theological course at Andover in 1860, and our marriage
took place as soon as he secured a suitable parish.
The first wedding in the family was a great event, and no pains were
spared to make it a delightful occasion. It was an evening wedding,
with about fifty guests. My sister Susan was bridesmaid, and was
attended by my husband's brother Austin as best man. Our dresses were
similar, of figured grey silk, mine being trimmed with white silk and
lace, and I wore a bunch of white Japonicas. The ceremony was performed
by our friend and pastor, Rev. I. Simmons, assisted by Rev. Allen
McLean, the blind pastor of the Congregational church, to whom I was
much attached.[5] A wedding supper was served, followed by a pleasant
social evening. Mr. Dodge's mother and brother were the only friends of
his who could be present. The good-byes were said early the next day and
we set our faces toward our new home. After several pleasant days in
Boston, we went to Newburyport, only to be met by the sad tidings that
Mr. Dodge's father had died suddenly on the very day of our marriage,
and that they were delaying the funeral till our arrival. It was a sad
home-coming and clouded the brightness of those first days. We remained
in Newburyport several weeks, and Mr. Dodge prepared his first sermon as
pastor, in the study of his old friend and minister, Dr. Dimmick, who
had recently died.
We were most kindly received by the people at Gardiner. Mr. Dodge was
ordained December sixth, 1860. The sermon was preached by Dr. Chickering
of Portland, and the ordaining prayer was offered by the venerable David
Thurston. We found a pleasant home for ourselves, and my father and
mother and Mother Dodge came to assist in our going to housekeeping. Our
outfit would seem simple indeed to the young people of this day, but
love and content abode with us, and we were happy. Our first great
sorrow and disappointment came in the loss of a little one to whose
coming we had looked forward with joy. This was followed by months of
weakness and ill-health for me. My husband's health also gave way in the
spring, making necessary a long summer vacation. Six months of this were
spent in tenting on Salisbury beach, which resulted in great gain to us
both. Our three years' pastorate in Gardiner was pleasant and
successful, but a second break in health, in the fall of 1863, made a
resignation necessary, and we came to Newburyport to spend the winter
with Mother Dodge. In December, through the kindness of his friend,
Captain Robert Bayley, my husband was offered a voyage in one of his
vessels to the West Indies. He sailed for Porto Rico in the _Edward
Lameyer_, commanded by Captain Charles Bayley, and received much benefit
and enjoyment from the six weeks' trip.
After coming home he supplied for some time at Northboro, Massachusetts,
and in the autumn he received a call to Gardner, Massachusetts, which he
did not accept. Later, however, he went to Yarmouth, Massachusetts,
where he supplied for six months for Rev. J. B. Clark, who was with the
Christian Commission in the Army of Virginia. We found a pleasant home
with Mr. Clark's mother in the parsonage, and greatly enjoyed this
experience, and as it proved it prepared the way for our chief life
work. On the return of Mr. Clark, in July, 1865, we went to Hampton,
New Hampshire, where my husband was immediately called to the vacant
pulpit of the Congregational church. A pleasant pastorate of three years
there was followed in 1868 by a call to succeed Mr. Clark, who had
resigned as pastor of the Yarmouth church. During our second year in
Hampton we had adopted a little girl, whom we called Mary Webster. She
was at this time nearly three years old.
We broke up our Hampton home in the cold, dark, December days, and I
shall never forget how delightful the change seemed to the warmth and
cheer of the cosy Yarmouth parsonage, where we spent so many happy
years. A pastorate of twenty-three years followed. The union between
pastor and people was remarkable. Nothing occurred to ruffle the harmony
during all those years. The best of our life work was done in Yarmouth,
and it was amply rewarded by the love and confidence of our people. A
new church edifice was built the year after our coming; and though the
strain of feeling was very great in consequence of a change of
location, and threatened at one time to divide the society entirely, the
crisis was safely passed with the loss of only two or three families,
and the attachment of all to the pastor who had led them safely through
the conflict remained unshaken.
In the summer of 1871 we adopted a boy of nine months. He was a sweet
and pleasant child, and for several years was a source of much comfort.
But as he grew older seeds of evil all unsuspected began to spring up,
and resulted later in bitter disappointment.
On the fourteenth of November, 1875, our dear daughter, Susan Webster,
was born. It was a boon we had not dared to hope for. Our home was
radiant with joy. The people showered congratulations, and gifts poured
in to attest the general joy at the advent of the parsonage baby. Our
Thanksgiving Day that year was one to be remembered.
This happy year was followed by one of severe trial. My husband's
health, never very strong, broke down entirely, and a long season of
complete nervous prostration followed. He kept his bed for months, and
at last rallied very slowly, appearing again in his pulpit after an
interval of nine months. The love of our people stood the trying test
bravely. They continued the salary and supplied the pulpit, and were
unwearied in their kindness and sympathy.
In the spring of 1882 we had the long-desired privilege of a journey to
Europe. Our people granted us a vacation of six months, and the means
were furnished by my father. We left our little Susie with my sister
Susan, the other children remaining with friends in Yarmouth. It was a
season of great enjoyment and profit. We visited England, Scotland,
France, Holland, Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. Returning, we
spent some pleasant weeks with friends in London and Cornwall, and came
home greatly benefited in mind and body.
On the 22d of April, 1884, Mother Dodge passed to the heavenly rest. Her
home had been with us for many years. She had been failing perceptibly
for some time, and disease of the heart developed, which caused her
death, after an illness of a few days. Her funeral was attended in
Yarmouth by Rev. Bernard Paine of Sandwich, and afterward she was taken
to her old home in Newburyport, and a service was held at the North
Church, conducted by Rev. Mr. Mills. She was then laid to rest in
Highland Cemetery, by the side of her husband. She was a woman of strong
character and large heart, and her life was full of devotion and
self-sacrifice for her family, as well as usefulness in the church.
In the spring of 1889 we took a very delightful trip to California,
visiting the famed Yosemite valley, and spending some time very
pleasantly with my brother James's family in Oakland. Soon after our
return I was seized with a very severe nervous illness which centered in
my head, causing terrible attacks of vertigo. It resulted in shattering
my health completely, and was followed by ten years of invalidism. The
next year my husband again suffered a serious break-down, followed by
another long season of nervous prostration. It was the result, in part,
of over-exertion in revival services, joined with unusual labors in
connection with the quarter-millennial celebration of the town of
Yarmouth. As his strength slowly returned, he attempted to take up his
work again, with the aid of an assistant; but it soon became evident
that he was unequal to the task, and he was reluctantly obliged to
resign the office of pastor. He was dismissed October 20, 1891. We
removed to Newburyport November 7 of the same year, and made a home for
ourselves there on land previously purchased, adjoining my husband's old
home. We occupied our new house for the first time June 2, 1892. It has
proved a comfort and joy to us, and we have both greatly improved in
health.
I cannot close this chapter of our history without making special
mention of our dear friends, Dr. and Mrs. Eldridge of Yarmouth, who
played such an important part in our life there, whose friendship and
sympathy were so constant and helpful during all the years, and whose
frequent and well-chosen gifts added so much to the brightness of our
home life, especially of the great kindness of Dr. Eldridge in providing
a night nurse at his own expense all through my husband's first long
illness. They have both passed to their reward, but their memory is a
treasure to us. Our people also manifested their love and appreciation
by numerous and valuable gifts. A full china dinner and tea service were
given us at our china wedding, and an elegant set of silver forks and a
fine cake-basket at our silver anniversary. A costly and beautiful
silver loving-cup was their parting gift to my husband. It was
appropriately inscribed with the text of his last sermon, "God is Love,"
significant of the character of his whole life work. The girls of my
mission circle also presented a silver tray and tea service to me.
These, and innumerable tokens of love scattered all along the way, form
a chain of adamant to bind our hearts to the dear friends of those happy
days, many of whom have gone before us to the heavenly home.
In April, 1896, Susie having left Wellesley College, her father took her
abroad. They were accompanied by her friend and classmate, Miss Effie A.
Work, of Akron, Ohio. My husband's illness on the way obliged them to
cut short their trip and return home, and another long illness followed.
He has now recovered, and my own health having greatly improved, we now
gladly "thank God and take courage."
After an interval of some years, caused by returning ill-health, I take
up again the story of our family life. Sadly enough, the first record
must be of the great sorrow which came to us in the years 1903 and 1904.
On the morning of August 8, 1903, my husband was taken very suddenly ill
with an attack of congestion of the brain, while standing by his library
table. He passed a day of great suffering and semi-unconsciousness, and
at night was carried up to his bed, from which he only arose after
months of utter prostration. He rallied at last very slowly, after an
alarming relapse, and so far recovered as to be able to come down-stairs
and walk about the house and mingle with the family at the table and
otherwise socially. He was able to read a little and join in
conversation, and greatly enjoyed his daily drives. On the evening of
June 14 he was suddenly seized with a hemorrhage of the brain as he was
retiring for the night, and became entirely unconscious. Every possible
effort was made to arouse him, but all was unavailing. He lingered
unconscious until the evening of June 17, when he passed quietly away,
and entered into the "rest that remaineth for the people of God." My
daughter Susan was absent from home, having gone to Simsbury, to act as
bridesmaid at the wedding of her cousin, Susie Alice Ensign. She
returned as speedily as possible, only to find that her father was
unable to recognize her. She was with him at the last, holding his hand
in hers as he passed over the dark river. The funeral services were held
in the North Church on Tuesday, June 21. Prayer was offered at the house
by Rev. Doctor Cutler of Ipswich, a lifelong friend. The procession
entering the church was led by the pastor, Rev. Mr. Newcomb, reading the
selections beginning, "I am the resurrection and the life." The music
was by the Temple Male Quartet, who sang the hymns, "Rock of Ages" and
"Abide with Me." Remarks followed by Rev. Dr. Cutler and Rev. Bartlett
Weston, both intimate friends, also a few appropriate remarks by the
pastor. The burial was at Oak Hill, the committal service being read by
Dr. Hovey, and our dear one was laid to rest in a quiet, beautiful spot
overlooking the meadows and hills he had loved so well. A granite
monument in the form of a St. Martin's cross, bearing the inscriptions,
"Resurgam," and "I am the resurrection and the life," marks his
resting-place. Beautiful flowers in profusion were sent by relatives and
friends and by different organizations in the city in which he had been
prominent in token of the love and esteem in which he was held. The
Yarmouth church, where most of his life work was done, sent two
representatives, and an elegant wreath of ferns and orchids.
The second marriage in the family was that of my sister Susan. She was
married July 21, 1863, to Ralph H. Ensign, a son of one of the oldest
and best families of the town. Their friendship began in early youth,
and was fitly crowned by this most happy marriage. The wedding took
place in the Methodist Episcopal church in Simsbury, and the ceremony
was performed by Rev. Arza Hill, then pastor of the church. It was in
the early days of the Civil War, not long after the death of my brother
Joseph. The family were in mourning at the time, and the bride made no
change, but was married in a gown of white crepe. The reception at the
home consisted only of the two families, and as it was a time of alarms,
the men of the family had been called in different directions, so that
only the two fathers were present. The wedding was followed by a bridal
trip to Niagara.
Mr. and Mrs. Ensign made their home in Simsbury, occupying the house on
the hill now occupied by their daughter, Mrs. Robert Darling. Mr. Ensign
was in the fuse business with my father, and soon became a member of the
firm. He has been its head ever since my father's death, and it has
steadily prospered under his leadership. Their present home, "Trevarno,"
was built in 1881, and they have lived there since that time. They have
travelled a great deal, especially in England and France. Their
children: Sarah Isabel, who died at the age of four years, Joseph
Ralph, Susan Alice, Julia Whiting, and Edward William, who died at the
age of three. They also reared to manhood a child, Ralph Newbert, whom
they took into their family shortly after the death of their youngest
child, Edward.
Next in order was my sister Julia, who was married on May 29, 1886, to
Rev. Charles H. Buck of Neponset, Massachusetts, at that time pastor of
the Simsbury Methodist church. He was a graduate of Wesleyan University
and a young man of much promise, which has been abundantly fulfilled in
his ministerial career. They were married in the Methodist church by my
father and Rev. Mr. Simmons, and left at once on their wedding journey.
On their return they removed to Westville, Connecticut, where Mr. Buck
had just been appointed pastor. Since then, Mr. Buck has filled many of
the most important appointments in the New York East Conference, serving
large churches in Brooklyn, Stamford, Bristol, New Britain, and others.
He has always been greatly beloved and appreciated by his people and
urged to return to them, particularly at Bristol, where he had three
pastorates. When he retired from the active ministry in 1900, he was
presented by his people there with a magnificent loving cup, as well as
other tokens of their affection. Mr. Buck had previously been given the
degree of D. D., and he was Treasurer of Wesleyan University for a
number of years after his retirement, besides holding other prominent
positions. The Bucks have always been great travellers, both in this
country and abroad, and spent a year travelling in the far East, in
1900-01, before settling in a home of their own. On their return, Dr.
Buck was for a time Presiding Elder in the New York East Conference and
also pastor of a large church in Brooklyn. In 1903 they built a
beautiful Colonial house at Yonkers, New York, on land overlooking the
Hudson River, where they now live, having their daughter and her
interesting family near them.
They adopted two children: William Henry and Sarah Humphrey.
On the 19th of October, 1866, my sister Annie was married to L.
Stoughton Ellsworth of Windsor, Connecticut. He came of the straitest
of Puritan stock, including the historic Ellsworths and Edwardses of
Windsor, and has most creditably borne up the reputation of those
families. The ceremony took place in the Methodist church and was
performed by his brother-in-law, Rev. C. H. Buck, who was assisted by
Rev. J. W. Dodge. They resided for a short time in Windsor, Connecticut,
after which they removed in April, 1867, to Oakland, California, where
Mr. Ellsworth had charge of a branch of the fuse business, which had
been established there. They remained there only a few years. Two
children were born to them there, but both died very young, which
hastened their return to Connecticut, in the autumn of 1871. They
settled on a fine farm in East Weatogue, but in 1889 they built and
occupied their present residence in Hopmeadow, and Mr. Ellsworth also
became a member of my father's firm. Their children: Lucy Stoughton,
George Toy, Annie Stoughton, Henry Edwards, John Stoughton.
My brother George was married October 6, 1875, to Mary Seymour of
Granby. They were married at the bride's home by Rev. C. H. Buck, and
took a wedding trip to Canada. They lived afterwards in my father's
family, as George was associated in the business. There were no living
children.
My sister Jennie was married April 19, 1876, to Mr. Charles E. Curtiss
of Simsbury. They lived for a short time with Mr. Curtiss' parents, and
then removed to Westfield, Massachusetts. Mr. Curtiss was afterwards
taken into my father's business, and they lived in the house adjoining
his on the hill. Their children: Joseph Toy and Grace Gilbert.
Having been divorced from Mr. Curtiss, my sister Jennie married Mr.
Charles A. Ensign, December 2, 1890. They settled in a very pleasant
home in Tariffville, where they have since lived, with the exception of
a short residence in Ottawa, Canada.[6] No children.
[Illustration: JOSEPH TOY]
On November 7, 1873, our grandmother, Mrs. D. G. Humphrey, who had long
been an honored and valued member of our family, died at the age of
81. She was a very intelligent, and interesting woman, and was loved and
mourned by us all.
My brother George died March 25, 1881, after a long and trying illness,
which eventually weakened him in mind as well as body.
My stepmother, Sarah G. H. Toy, died September 24, 1881. She had a long
illness, resulting from a shock of apoplexy which partially paralyzed
her and ended in softening of the brain. I was with her when she passed
away, and closed her eyes for the last long sleep. She was a brilliant
and interesting woman, a devoted wife, and a kind mother to the children
whose care she undertook.
After her death my father married Mary Seymour Toy, April 11, 1882. One
child was born to them, Josephine Seymour, born January 19, 1884. They
continued to live in the house on the hill until some years after my
father's death, which occurred when Josephine was three years old. As
she grew older and the question of a suitable education for her arose,
Mrs. Toy removed to Hartford, and the old house was closed. It was
later divided into two parts; the back portion was moved away and used
as a small tenement for the employees of the factory, while the rest was
rented as it stood. Later, in 1904, it also was removed to its present
position just back of the old site, where Mr. Joseph Ensign's house now
stands. Mrs. Toy and Josephine settled in a very pleasant home in
Hartford, and the latter attended Miss Barbour's school, and later went
for two years to Miss Porter's school in Farmington. On June 5, 1907,
she was married to Mr. Frederick Starr Collins, a son of one of the old
and prominent families of Hartford. The marriage was a very happy one,
especially as Josephine and her husband still remained with her
mother.[7]
On the second of April, 1887, my father entered into rest. He had been
growing rather more feeble for some time. He was very ill during most of
the winter, and was confined to his bed a great part of the time. His
trouble was of such a nature that it was impossible for him to lie down,
which was very distressing, but he bore his sufferings with great
fortitude and patience. He improved as the spring came on, and was able
to walk about the house, and had even been out of doors once or twice. I
had not been able to go to see him during the winter, but on the last of
March I went to Simsbury. He was occupied by business on the first day
of April, so that I did not see him, but on the morning of the second, I
went in a driving snowstorm to see him. He was just coming out of his
room as I came in. I was greatly struck by his altered and feeble
appearance, but he received me cheerfully, and we talked pleasantly
together for an hour. His physician, Dr. R. A. White, came in at that
time, and suggested that he be given a little liquid nourishment. As he
attempted to swallow it, there was a struggle, and he threw back his
head, groaning heavily. I took his head in my arms, and in an instant
he had passed away. We laid him quietly down, and even amid our tears,
it was a relief to see him lying peacefully after his winter's
sufferings. The funeral took place in the Methodist church. His pastor,
Rev. C. W. Lyon, officiated, assisted by Rev. C. P. Croft. The
procession passed up the aisle, preceded by the pastor reading the
beautiful words of the burial service, "I am the resurrection and the
life." The choir sang "Servant of God, well done," and "It is well with
my soul." Mr. Lyon preached from the text, "I have fought a good fight
... I have kept the faith," and the choir sang, "Thy will be done."
Two wreaths were laid upon the casket, one of white callas, and in the
center was a sheaf of wheat. The church was thronged with friends and
neighbors who came to pay their last tribute of love and respect. Over
one hundred of the employees of the firm were present. The bearers were
S. C. Eno, D. B. McLean, A. G. Case, Erwin Chase, J. N. Race, and A. S.
Chapman. So he was carried forth from the church of which he had so
long been a pillar, and laid to rest on the hillside, in the midst of
his family who had gone before. So closed a long, honored and useful
life. "The memory of the just is blessed."