The Story of the Toys Part 2

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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sisted 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 a.s.sist in every possible way. She was, in this way, a member of our family for many years, pa.s.sing with us through scenes of joy and sorrow, always identifying her interests with ours and giving the most faithful service and unchanging friends.h.i.+p. 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 superst.i.tion, 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 a.s.sist 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 a.s.sist her, which she gladly did. That evening my father, who was suffering from severe headache, asked my mother to offer prayer at the evening wors.h.i.+p, 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 G.o.d would make them His own, and would care for them if she was taken away from them. On Sat.u.r.day 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed 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 grat.i.tude 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed 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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 antic.i.p.ation, 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. Gra.s.sie, of Amherst College.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 ma.s.s 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed 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 s.h.i.+p was greatly crowded, and the voyage was made with many discomforts, but on March 8 they reached s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p 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, antic.i.p.ating 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 pa.s.sed quietly away on the afternoon of Sat.u.r.day, 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, a.s.sisted 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 anch.o.r.ed 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 crus.h.i.+ng 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, Ma.s.sachusetts, 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. Gra.s.sie 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 subst.i.tute. 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 j.a.ponicas. The ceremony was performed by our friend and pastor, Rev. I. Simmons, a.s.sisted 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 a.s.sist 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, Ma.s.sachusetts, and in the autumn he received a call to Gardner, Ma.s.sachusetts, which he did not accept. Later, however, he went to Yarmouth, Ma.s.sachusetts, 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 Hamps.h.i.+re, 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sistant; 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 friends.h.i.+p 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 pa.s.sed 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, "G.o.d 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 cla.s.smate, 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed quietly away, and entered into the "rest that remaineth for the people of G.o.d." 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 pa.s.sed 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 friends.h.i.+p 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 leaders.h.i.+p. 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, Ma.s.sachusetts, 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.