for Kate ii

all-finding-aids.txt

Alexander, Thomas (1727-1801)
Military diary. May 27-Oct. 31, 1758; Mar. 6-July 18, 1776
1 vol. manuscript 15.5 cm
The first section of the diary describes a march from Northampton, MA, to Lake George,
NY, the unsuccessful attack on Ft. Ticonderoga under Gen. James Abercrombie, the
subsequent retreat and the “Half-Way Brook Massacre.” Thomas Alexander, of
Northfield, MA, was ensign in the company of Salah Barnard, part of Col. Ephrain
Williams’s regiment. The second section describes the march of Alexander’s company
from Northfield to Quebec to join Gen. Richard Montgomery’s forces, the retreat, and its
attendant hardships. Thomas was captain of his own Northfield company, attached to
Col. Elisha Porter’s regiment.
Includes transcription; some material published in History of the Town of Northfield
(1875)
Location: Alexander Family papers, Deerfield Families.

Allen, Eliel (1714-1844)
Diary, Aug. 1, 1838-Nov. 6, 1844. Deerfield, Mass.
1 vol. manuscript 20 cm
Note: Diary kept by a farmer in the Wapping section of Deerfield. Consists of single-line
entries concerning weather, farming activities, attending church, and family matters. The
diary is continued by Josiah Allen, Eliel’s son, on Nov. 6, 1844. Josiah resumes writing, and
describes Eliel’s final days and death on Nov. 12. See entry for Josiah Allen for more
information.
A listing of “Crows Cropped” is attached at the beginning; volume inscribed “Carlos Allens
Account Book March 8, 1831,” but no accounts appear.

Allen, Josiah (1814-1895)
Diaries: vol. 1: Nov. 5, 1844-Sept. 30, 1847; vol. 2, Oct. 1, 1847-Aug. 9, 1855; vol. 3: Aug. 10,
1855-June 30, 1861; vol. 4: July 1, 1861-Sept. 30, 1865; vol. 5: Oct. 1, 1865-Apr. 30, 1873; vol.
6: May 1, 1873-Dec. 31, 1882; vol. 7: Jan. 2, 1892-March 8, 1895.
[Deerfield, Mass., 1844-1895]
7 vols.

manuscript

15.5 to 21 cm

Note: A series of diaries kept by an educated farmer living in the Wapping section of Deerfield.
The initial diary commences after the death of his father, Eliel Allen, in the same volume in
which Eliel had kept as a diary (see entry for Eliel Allen for additional information). In
addition to recording weather and discussing crops, Josiah Allen briefly comments on a wide
variety of local events. Active in Deerfield cultural and social affairs, Allen attended lectures,
concerts, fairs, and Pocumtuck Valley Memorial Assoc. meetings, and was active in the First
Congregational Church. He noted such events as the ringing of church bells when Richmond
was captured in April, 1865, the ceremony when the Indian House door was returned from
Boston, the burning of the Connecticut River railroad bridge at Cheapside, and a
demonstration of a new mowing machine in Greenfield. Allen frequently mentioned trips to
Greenfield where he traded agricultural products for goods. As clerk and moderator of the
Wapping School District in the 1860s and 70s, Allen often recorded matters connected with the
school. Allen was the father of Frances S. and Mary E. Allen, the famous Deerfield
photographers. The activities of the two women often appear in the diaries. He stated, for
example, that his daughters had a severe case of the “mumps” in the winter of 1873 (possible
contributing to their eventual deafness), and that he added a skylight to his house “for
photography.”

Allen, Mary Electa (1854-1941)
Diaries, May 1912-Sept. 1913; Oct. 1913-July 1914;
April –Oct 1916; Oct. 1916-April 1918; April 7-Aug. 4, 1918. Deerfield,
Mass.; Calif.; Oregon; Washington State; British Columbia.
5 vols.

manuscript

sizes vary

Diaries kept by a former school teacher during the latter half of her
life in Deerfield. Along with her sister, Frances Stebbins Allen, Mary
Allen became a well-known photographer. Her diaries frequently
mention Frances and other family members, and discuss local events,
social visits, “rides” she takes, their photographic work, and the weather.
In 1912 and 1916, she participated in Deerfield pageants, held on the
Allen’s homelot. She makes note of meetings of the Village Improvement Society, Church remodeling, meetings of the Monday
Club, local art exhibitions, reading to George Sheldon just before his
death, the Presidential election of 1917, buying Liberty bonds and the
formation of a Home Defense Committee, and the influx of tourists in
the village. One diary, kept in 1916, records a trip to California and the
West coast that she made with Frances, Louise Allen, and Clara Ziegler,
then continues in Deerfield.
In Allen Family Papers, Box 3
See Suzanne Flynt, The Allen Sisters (2002) for information on her career
as a photographer.

Allen, Mary Electa (1858-1941)
Travel diary, March 24-July 2, 1908.
1 vol.

mss.

15 cm.

Diary kept by Mary Allen, a writer and photographer,
who travelled to England and Scotland in the company
of her sister, Frances Stebbins Allen (1854-1941), and
Florence and Nelly Birks, all of Deerfield. The diary
records their passage from New York City to Portsmouth,
and their journey overland as far north as Edinburgh.
Allen records their visits to museums such as the National
Portrait Gallery and the Tate Gallery, to historic sites such
as Canterbury Cathedral and Stonehenge, and to manor
houses.
In Allen Family papers, Box 2

Arms, Ellen Louisa (Sheldon) (b. 1847)
Diary, Nov. 5, 1859-Aug. 4, 1860. Greenfield, Mass.
1 vol. manuscript 21cm
Well-written diary of the twelve-year old daughter of a prominent Greenfield businessman.
Useful for information on social, religious, and domestic life in antebellum Greenfield.
Particularly good for descriptions of elementary education and children’s costume,
recreation, literature. The diary itself seems to have served as a tool for acculturation.
Includes descriptions of Christmas and Thanksgiving celebrations. Ellen was the older
sister of Jennie Maria Arms, who later married George Sheldon. Ellen herself, married
George Sheldon’s son, John. The Sheldon family appears frequently throughout the diary.

Ashley, Jonathan, 1816-1895
[Farm journal and accounts, March 1875-March 1887. Deerfield, Mass.]
1 vol. manuscript 34 cm
Kept in: The People’s Comprehensive Diary! Being a Concise and Systematic Form for
Keeping a Record of Transactions and Events as they Occur for Every Day in the
Year…by William Goodfellow (Syracuse, N.Y., 1874).

Avery, Francis Dean, 1876-1940
Diary, 1896, 1897, 1903-06, 1908. Buckland, Mass.; Greenfield, Mass.
7v. manuscript 12.5; 15.5 cm
Early diaries, kept in Buckland, contain brief entries mentioning livestock and
“giant” oxen. Later diaries, kept in Greenfield, consist of occasional entries
largely pertaining to meetings of the Franklin County Commissioners.
In Avery Family Papers.
Avery, son of James Dean Avery (1848-1922) of Buckland, worked with his
father raising and showing oxen. Francis attended the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology and was graduated in 1902. After briefly working for the New York
Central Railroad in western New York State, Avery moved to Greenfield where
he pursued a career as a civil engineer. His diaries are rather sparse and consist of
terse entries. The two early diaries mention trips to show oxen in New
Hampshire, New York State and Boston, and note a local murder and Avery’s
bout with typhoid fever.

Avery, Maria Joslyn (b. 1866)
Diary, Jan. 1- July 1, 1910. Buckland, Mass.
1v. manuscript

15 cm

A record of weather, household and agricultural events, and local news kept by the wife of a
farmer and 2nd wife of James Dean Avery. Avery notes a number of local deaths, records
household accounts (1909-1919), vehicle registrations until 1924, and lists books she read at the
end of the diary. Includes a letter dated 1919, regarding a female friend serving in WWI in
France.
Shelved in Avery Family Papers.

[Barnard, Samuel?] 1721-1788
“Diary of Sundays.” Dec. 17, 1780-Aug. 28,
1v.

manuscript

15.5 cm

Note: Very useful for religious history in Deerfield. Lists sermon texts and the
names of numerous candidates for the Deerfield pulpit between the death of
Jonathan Ashley and the settlement of John Taylor.

Billing, Edward, 1707-1760
Diary of the Rev. Edward Billing of Cold Spring (Belchertown, Mass.) and Greenfield, Mass.,
1743-1756.
1 vol. manuscript 14 cm
Interleaved in Nathaniel Ames’ An Astronomical Diary or an Almanac…1743-1752; 1754-1756
and Shepherd’s Poor Job, 1753.
Diary of a ‘New Light’ minister who served at Belchertown, Mass., between 1740 and1752. The
diary affords insights into the controversy over the Half-Way Covenant which led to his
dismissal; records his negative views about separatism and Arminianism; and sheds light on his
relationship with Timothy Dwight of Northampton, Mass. Billing was present in October 1749
at the death of David Brainerd. Good source for ministerial economics. Includes a great deal of
information on the early history and settlers of Belchertown and Greenfield. Full of nostrums,
recipes, and remarkable provinces. Includes accounts of skirmishes and military activity during
the French and Indian War.
See T. Packard’s History of Churches & Ministers… (Boston, 1854), pp. 174-76; Sibley’s
Harvard Graduates, vol. IX: 22-28.

[Bliss, Catherine Ramage] b. 1869
Diary, Jan. 1, 1907-Dec. 29, 1911. Holyoke, Mass.
1vol.

manuscript

15cm

Writer was the wife of Edmund C. Bliss, a paymaster at various mills in Holyoke.
Brief entries describe social and cultural life in turn-of- the-century Holyoke.
Includes observations on diet, clothing, and entertainment. Edmund Bliss was the
nephew of Celia Mann Kimball, formerly of South Deerfield, who lived with the
Blisses at the time of her death.

Briggs, Alden B. 1839-1924
Agricultural journal: v.1, Jan. 1, 1889-Sept. 5, 1890; v.2, July 1-Dec. 31, 1892; v. 3, 1893; v. 4,
Jan. 1-Sept. 30, 1908
Deerfield, Mass., 1889-1908
4 vols. manuscript 16 cm
Primarily a brief-entry record of farm life of a South Deerfield tobacco farmer. Includes
information on a variety of crops, but particularly strong for the study of late 19th-century
tobacco farming. Also includes various details of domestic life, farm tools, and recreational
activities.

Canning, Ebenezer Smith, 1809-1834
Travel journal, “Spawn from an Odd Fish or the Man of War’s Man Journal of a
Cruise on the U.S. Ship ‘Brandywine’ from Feb. 4, 1883 to July 15, 1833.”
[n. p., 1833]
1 vol. manuscript

30.5 cm

Note: Highly literate and engaging account of a voyage on the war Frigate
“Brandywine”, beginning at Port Mahon, Minorca; extensive description of
Centa, Gibraltar, St. Rogue and Algeciras; next to Tangiers, then Lisbon; then to
the Azores and Madeira; finally crossing the Atlantic ending in New York.
Romance and adventure in Madeira, a cholera epidemic in Lisbon – all related in
fine journalistic fashion. Brother of the “Peasant Bard” of Gill, Josiah D.
Canning, the author ppparently died in Detroit, MI. Volume concludes with
newspaper clippings titled “Leaves from a Journal,” apparently based on this
account.
Note: the travel journal, “A cruise on the ‘Constellation’ 1830-1831, thought to be
by Ebenezer Smith Canning (PVMA 13664) which came as a gift at the same
time as the above, was not written by Canning who was teaching school at the
time of the writing, see Canning family papers.
Gill vital records, p. 14.

Childs, Jonathan Root, 1822-1857
Journal, May 10, 1843- Jan 13, 1844
Deerfield, Mass., 1843-1844
1 vol. manuscript
Sheldon II:117

33.5cm

Note: Highly descriptive account of social, cultural and religious life in
Deerfield. Childs was a clerk at Charles Williams’s store, and the diary offers
some insights into store operations, the Boston to Cheapside route for wholesale
purchases, etc. Vivid description of a trip to Boston for the dedication of the
Bunker Hill Monument, an event at which George Sheldon was present. Diary
really brings many of the characters in the village to life. Concludes with Childs
removal to Chicopee where he opened his own store, attended with minimal
success.

Church, Henry Summer (b. 1829)
Diary, June 12, 1892-Aug. 4, 1897
Ashfield, Mass., 1892-1897
1 vol. manuscript 22 cm
An agricultural journal containing domestic matters.
Note: An agricultural journal of the economic life of a small farmer: planting,
harvesting, gardening, livestock (bred sheep), orchards, sugaring, domestic
chores, etc. Full of homely details on family and social life in Ashfield. For
example, “C.T. Barber and I rode around town most all day looking at old faces.”

[Clapp, Caleb] (died c. 1843)
Diary, May 24, 1828-Aug. 11, 1843
Greenfield, Mass., 1828-1843
1 vol.

manuscript

14.5 cm

Note: Primarily a record of arrival and departures of family members; some information on
the Rev. Wales Tileston of Charlemont, Mass. For an earlier period in Clapp’s life see “Diary
of Ensign Caleb Clapp” published in The Historical Magazine and Notes and Queries
Concerning the Antiquities, History and Biography of America April 1875. Edited by Henry
B. Dawson.

Clark, Elijah, 1791-1816
Diary and agricultural day book, April 22, 1813-Oct. 28, 1815
Deerfield, Mass., 1813-1815
1 vol. manuscript 18 cm
Although brief, the diary is devoted entirely to the sequence of events in planting, pasturing,
harvesting, shearing, carting dung, etc.
Sheldon II:125

Cochran, Martha (1808-1872)
Diary, 1854-59. Northampton and Boston, Mass.
1 vol. manuscript

24 cm

Cochran, a single woman, lived with her sister Mary Ann Cochran while keeping the diary. In it
she records family matters, social events, and local news. She describes the marriage of her
pregnant servant and mentions lectures she attended in Boston. At the rear of the volume are
random notes, dated 1841, 1852, and 1872, on books read, lectures attended, and conversations.
In: Fuller-Higginson Papers, Box 115 Fol. 2

Crawford, Robert (1804-1896)
Diary, vol. 1:1879, Deerfield; vol. 2: Jan. 1, 1884-Oct. 19, 1896 Deerfield (Cheapside)
and Clinton, Conn., 1879; 1884-1896
2 vol. manuscript 20 cm
Vol. 1 contains account of a sea voyage from Boston to England, May5-21, 1852.
Note: Minister at the “Orthodox Society” in Deerfield, an elderly gentleman who viewed the
world from the perspective of an evangelical, conservative Congregationalist. Vol. 1 is most
useful for Deerfield history. Crawford was active in politics, the temperance movement, and the
Pocumtuck Valley Memorial Assn. (frequently commenting on lectures heard). Attended an
exhibit at Dickinson Hall where he saw a telephone, phonograph and microphone. Described a
female temperance lecturer, saying she “would make a fine Lady Macbeth.” Provides a lively
and vividly descriptive account of the ocean voyage. Vol. 2 is chiefly interesting as a diary
written by a very old, but active, retired minister; his reading habits, his conservative theology,
his opinions of Henry Ward Beecher, Dwight L. Moody, the social gospel movement, etc.
Includes interesting descriptions of evangelical churches in Franklin County, Champagne, Ill.,
and Topsfield, Mass. Diary concludes in Clinton, Conn. Very well-written throughout.
Sheldon II; 806-7.

Dickerman, George
Diary, Jan.1-Dec.31, 1904; Jan. 1-Dec. 31, 1922. [East Randolph; Chelsea, Vt., 1904, 1922]
2 vols. manuscript 15cm
A weather record, with agricultural memoranda and some financial records and accounts. 1904
kept at East Randolph; 1922 kept at Chelsea.

Dickinson, Rebecca (b. 1738)
Diary, July 22, 1787-Apr. 5, 1795 [extracts]. Hatfield, Mass., 1787-1795
1 gathering of loose sheets

manuscript

25 cm

Extracts of diary by “Aunt Beck” (Rebecca Dickinson of Hatfield) copied by Margaret Miller.
In envelope in Margaret Miller Papers; photocopy in diary box
For further information, see Daniel Wells’ History of Hatfield, p. 390; Marla Miller, "My part
Alone": The World of Rebecca Dickinson, 1787-1802.

Note: Excellent source, even in extract form, for late 18th-century social, cultural and
architectural history in Hatfield. The diarist, who is usually discursive for the period, describes
marriages, funerals, musical events, a hanging, clothing and accessories (she wore spectacles, for
instance) and religious activities. She was a lonely, introspective single woman (a gown-maker)
who reflects on her own unhappy love life, respective roles of men and women, former amours,
even dreams… “this morning was more lonesome than a cat how wee are made for sosiaty.”
Diary includes descriptions of ministers such as Timothy Woodbridge and Joseph Lyman, and
other prominent figures, including Col. Israel Williams and Oliver Partridge. Material also
includes excerpts from the diary printed in the New York Evening Post, Jan. 9, 1892.

Doe, Jeremiah Madison (1811-1884)
Journal; describes a voyage from Newburyport, Mass. around Cape Horn to the gold fields in the
Stockton, Calif. area, Nov. 1, 1849-Sept. 25, 1851
[n.p.] 1849-1851
1 vol. manuscript 22 cm
Diarist was a shoemaker from Methuen, Mass. Methuen vital records, pp. 43, 177.
Note: A lively account of an adventurous and peril-fraught journey round Cape Horn, replete
with stowaways, a tyrannical captain and a drunken ship’s doctor. Also describes the lawless
world of the mining camps. Interesting descriptions of Rio de Janeiro and Valpariaso; includes
several admirable watercolor illustrations by Doe.

Field, Alfred R. (1815-1870)
“Autobiography.”
1 vol.

manuscript

26 cm

Brief (11 pages) reminiscence, covering the period 1815-1863, written by a well-known civil
engineer. A note indicates that this personal account was begun in 1857. Born in Northfield,
MA, Field describes working on his father George’s farm, and his early education at common
schools and Northfield Academy. He later taught school in Warwick and Concord, MA before
taking a position in the Boston engineering firm of James Heywood. In 1839, Field traveled
west to Danville, IL, where he worked with Arthur W. Hoyt of Deerfield, surveying for the
railroad. Field was appointed assistant engineer for the Vermont & Mass. Railroad in 1845, and
did surveys and other work for railroads throughout New England, New York and New Jersey.
Field settled in Greenfield, MA, in 1849 where he lived for the remainder of his life. He
mentions, but does not elaborate on, many of the public offices he held. These included
selectman, assessor, Franklin Co. commissioner, and state representative (1858-1861). Field was
killed in a railroad accident on June 9, 1870, roughly seven years after he discontinued his
autobiography.
Diary Collection - Field

Fuller, Agnes Gordon (Higginson), 1838-1924
Diary, vols. 1-5, 1855-1860; vols. 6-51, 1875-June 14, 1924
Deerfield; Boston area, Mass., 1855-1924
51 vols.
manuscript
8.5 to 17.5 cm
Fuller-Higginson Family Papers, Papers of Agnes Gordon Higginson Fuller, Boxes 19-21.
Sheldon II: 170
Note: An extraordinary record of the life of an active intelligent woman, commenced at the age
of 16 in 1855 and continued (with the exception of the 1860s) until her death in 1924 at the age
of 85. The 1850s period provides a record of social life in Deerfield, particularly the romantic
and recreational activities of young people; also education, clothing, family life (sewing, reading,
etc.) Includes accounts of balls at the Pocumtuck House; dancing at Stillwater; trips to Mt.
Sugarloaf, the Whately Glen, and “up to the rock”; skating; quilting parties; lectures in
Greenfield; plays; tableaux; and the local Shakespearian Club. Because of family connections
Miss Higginson (she married George Fuller in 1861) also had entrée to literary society in Boston
and Cambridge. She took tea with the Emersons, dined with Thoreau and walked with him to
Walden Pond; there is also a brief but very good description of a Christmas Eve in Deerfield
spent with William Makepeace Thackeray. Descriptions of social events in Deerfield are nicely
drawn—“Mr. Bartlett played the organ diabolically.” The 1850s period also includes lists of her
reading material and records the developing romance with George Fuller. The 1870s period is
largely an account of farming and domestic life in Deerfield, includes information on farm labor
(also a succession of housekeepers), home economics, farm techniques and crops (particularly
cranberries and tobacco). Records George Fuller’s artistic efforts and his growing reputation in
Boston, and describes his relationship with the Champneys, Mrs. Yale, and Madeline Y. Wynne.
The 1880s period records the great artistic acclaim for George Fuller (the reaction, e.g., to
“Winifred Dysart,”) and describes his major exhibition at Williams and Everett’s Gallery, March
10, 1884. Also describes the Memorial Exhibition and subsequent auction, including the
response of some Deerfield people to the exhibition. Fuller’s death and funeral are described in
the diary by his son, Robert. The 1880s also include a highly detailed account of summer
recreational activity in Deerfield; child rearing and play; farming at the bars; a finely drawn
portrait of the domestic life of the surviving Fuller family, particularly of Spencer and Arthur.
(Also mentions Winthrop Tyler Arms quite frequently.) The 1890s period describes Deerfield
society vividly, the Summer school; local literary society lectures on theosophy of Ibsen;
personalities such as the Sheldons, the Allen sisters, C. Alice Baker, and Emma L. Coleman.
The 1890-91 diaries provide an account of a trip to Europe with a fine description of life in
Dresden. Towards the end of the decade Agnes lived briefly with C. Alice Baker in Cambridge.
The 1900s period begins a more general focus on Boston, with Deerfield as a summer and
(often) an autumn residence. Agnes moved easily among Boston’s social elite and the diary
includes encounters with William Dean Howells, Phillips Brooks, John Singer Sargent, Isabella
Stuart Gardner, and very frequently with her uncle, Thomas Wentworth Higginson; also artistic
and theatrical events are described – an evening at the theater with Ellen Terry, Maud Adams,
Pavlova, or Kriesler in concert. In 1906, Arthur sketched Ethel Barrymore (Sept. 9).
Throughout this period, there is continuing information on the career of Spencer, Robert, and
Henry Fuller and their separate artistic achievements. Various vacation and health resorts are
described including Lake Saranac, Essex at Lake Champlain, Jamestown, R.I., and McMahon’s

Island near Bath, Maine. Descriptions of summers in Deerfield include the Arts and Crafts
Revival, “Old Home Week” in 1901, and the Blue and White Society. The 1910s period
includes a moving description of a display of Spencer Fuller’s work at the “Crafts barn” in
Deerfield, shortly after his death; also mentions Mary Williams Fuller’s “The Colonel’s
Conspiracy.” A short story about Deerfield (February 15, 1911) is described – Arthur Fuller’s
“Trail-Top-Inn” venture. Agnes Fuller remains aware of wider social issues and events such as
women’s suffrage, until her death, and her comment often involve a personal, historical
perspective, e.g., April 2, 1917: “A Pacifist in Washington hits Senator Lodge in the face and is
knocked down by him like antebellum days.” The last years of the diary reflect the characteristic
medical and personal concerns of an older woman.
Some interesting quotes:
1. Feb. 27, 1885. Spencer Fuller attended a “cooking class at Mary Allen’s at Wapping.”
2. Jan. 22, 1886. On Luther J.B. Lincoln. “He is cataloguing the Memorial Hall collection
for Mr. Sheldon.”
3. Sept. 11, 1895. “We had a family group taken by Miss Mary Allen.”
4. Sept. 28, 1911. “Mary (Fuller) is finding untold treasures of old documents in Williams
house.” (Including a 1707 letter concerning Eunice Williams).
5. April 15, 1915. “Mr. Crothers approves of Billy Sunday – singular taste.”
6. 1915 Memorandum. “We have bought the old Hitchcock House and lot with barn studio
of Annie Putnam for $900.”
7. Nov. 7, 1916. “Called on the Sheldon’s, took Mr. Sheldon an old Town Warrant…he is a
wonder—almost 98 years old.”
Place location of individual diaries:
1855-1857 Deerfield
1858-1860 Deerfield and Boston area
1875-1880 Deerfield
1881-1883 Deerfield and Belmont
1884
Deerfield and Brookline
1885-1887 Deerfield
1888
Deerfield and Magnolia
1889-1890 Deerfield
1891
Dresden, Germany, and Paris, France
1892-1894 Boston and Deerfield
1895
Deerfield
1896
Jamaica Plain and Deerfield
1897-1898 Boston and Deerfield
1899
Boston, Deerfield, McMahon’s Island, Me., Cambridge
1901
Boston area and Deerfield
1902-1904 Cambridge and Deerfield
1905
Boston area and Deerfield
1906-1907 Cambridge and Magnolia
1908
Cambridge, Magnolia, Deerfield and Pelham, N.Y.

1909
1910-1923
1924

Pelham, N.Y., Deerfield and Cambridge
Cambridge and Deerfield
Cambridge

Elijah Spencer Fuller (1827-1859)
Farm Journal; Deerfield, MA, May 1857-August 1859
1 vol.

Mss.

32 cm

This journal chronicles farm work at “The Bars” in the Wapping section of Deerfield, and
includes notes on crops, business transactions, family activities, and local news. Farm work was
shared between the children of Aaron Fuller Sr., some of whom were adults in the 1850’s, and
various farm hands. The farm hands mentioned include Edward Chappel, David Crowley, “Irish
Dan,” Jim Allen, Mike Tainter, and Edward Childs. The Fullers grew many kinds of produce:
potatoes, cabbage, carrots, pumpkins, broom corn, rye, oats, Indian corn, popcorn, water melon,
and squash. Aaron Sr. introduced the cultivation of cranberries to the area. Everyday work on
the farm consisted of sawing wood, planting crops, digging ditches, and constantly moving
“muck” from the wetlands to the crop fields. Several entries discuss the price and use of guano
as fertilizer, and experiments of applying it to various crops. Other entries discuss grafting apple
trees.
Elijah Spencer Fuller (b. 1827) kept the journal until his death on January 13, 1859. One of his
brothers continued the journal, and wrote a detailed description of Elijah’s later life and death.
Elijah had been suffering from a “lung disease,” but had largely recovered after returning from a
trip to New Mexico and Mexico in 1854-1855. Also noted throughout the journal is Aaron
Fuller Sr.’s year-long battle with an illness that led to his death in June 1859.
Shelved in Fuller/Higginson papers, Box 125

Fuller, George, 1822-1884
Travel journal, Oct. 26-Dec. 25, 1837; also travel journal, Nov. 16, 1837-Jan. 8, 1838 and later
memoranda. [n.p., 1837-1838]
2 vols.
manuscript
24 cm; 14.5 cm
Also a later copy of the journal which includes some of the material of the originals together
with some apparently now lost.
Sheldon II:170.
Note: Kept as member of a railroad surveying team in Illinois. A lively and humorous
description of surveying and camp life on the central Illinois prairie. Sharply drawn sketches of
frontiersmen, log cabins, prairie customs, and social life. Good description, for instance, of a
Methodist preacher. Includes some pencil sketches.
Fuller-Higginson Family Papers Box 17, Folder 2

Fuller, George, 1822-1884
Travel journal, Jan. 17-July 9, 1860
[England, Sicily and the Continent, 1860]
2 vols. manuscript 16.5 cm, 13.5 cm
Sheldon II:170
Note: Fuller’s grand tour, during which he painted, sketched, made antiquarian notes, and
visited art galleries, museums and antiquities of nearly all the cities he visited. He also made
critical comments on many of the works of art, old and new, that he viewed. The journal
commences with his arrival in Devonshire, thence to London where he visited the National
Gallery, British Museum, etc. He then quickly proceeded through France to Marseilles and off
to Sicily. His descriptions of Messina, Catania and ancient Syracuse are the most detailed and
perhaps the best in the journal. He then proceeds to Naples (visits Pompeii), Rome, and
Florence, passing through Bologna, Parma, Verona, then to Venice where he spends some time.
Thence to Milan and off to Lombardy to Como, Lake Luguna, Meggiore, and over the Alps
through the Simplon Pass to Martighy. Next off to Geneva where he met and talked at some
length with John Ruskin. Then on to Neufchatel, Berne, Interlaken, Lucerne and Munich. From
Munich he proceeded to Nuremberg, which he loved, and on to Frankfurt where he visited his
friend Adolf Hoeffler. Then down the Rhine to Cologne, off to Brussels, Antwerp, the Hague,
Leyden, Haarlem, Amsterdam, down to Ghent and back to Paris. Vol. I includes notes, some
sketches, and a lecture-type summary of the trip. Vol. II is indexed.
Fuller-Higginson Family Papers, Box 17

Fuller, George, 1822-1884
Diary, Jan. 17-Sept. 5, 1850 [Augusta, Ga., 1850]
1vol. manuscript
13 cm
Portrait and landscape painter from Deerfield.
Sheldon II:170
Note: An account of Fuller’s experience as a portrait and landscape painter in Augusta, GA.
Provides insight into the social life of Augustan high society, and Fuller’s friendship with Adolf
Hoeffler. Diary concludes with account of his journey home, through Washington, D.C. and
New York, to Deerfield.
Fuller-Higginson Family Papers, Box17

Fuller, Mary Williams Field (1863-1951)
Diaries; Deerfield, MA, 1936; 1940-51.
13 vols.

manuscript

Fuller Family Papers, Box 46a

sizes vary

Diaries kept by a long-time Deerfield resident in the latter part of her life.
Mary W.F. Fuller descended from the line of Williams physicians in Deerfield,
and married George Spencer Fuller, son of Deerfield artist George Fuller, in
1889. She studied in Boston and travelled in Europe as a girl, returning to
Deerfield where she lived in the Fuller family homestead, The Bars, after her
marriage. Mary W.F. Fuller was an accomplished vocalist and musician, wrote
numerous articles on local history, and authored The Story of Deerfield, 16301930 (Brattleboro, Vt., 1930).
Her diaries record local and national events, family matters, books she read, her
various travels in the area, and cultural activities she participated in. Fuller attended
concerts regularly, and constantly listened to the radio. Her diaries describe the flood
of 1936, discusses her involvement in the unsuccessful campaign of John Haigis of
Greenfield for governor in 1940 (the “Haigis Club”), and mentions the attack on Pearl
Harbor in 1941, and other war news.

Goodhue, Joseph, 1762-1849
Diary, Sept. 12, 1811-Dec. 31, 1817. [Fort Constitution , Newcastle, N.H.]
1 vol. manuscript

33.5 cm

Sheldon II; 337, 385; Hemenway, Vermont Historical Gazetteer V:239.
Note: Diary kept by surgeon at a fort located in Portsmouth harbor. A great deal of weather
entries, but also a very good account of a surgeon’s life in a war-time military post. Describes
agricultural activities and social life at the fort. Several observations on Federalist anti-war and
secessionist activities from viewpoint of an ardent Republican. Describes privateer actions along
the coast and after the war, and a personal description of President Monroe’s visit to Portsmouth
and Ft. Constitution. Particularly good in description of medical problems and corresponding
treatments.

Gunn, Lyman O., (1834-1912)
Diaries; Montague and Erving, MA, 1879, 1881, 1882, 1884
4 vols. manuscript

sizes vary

Most entries relate to farming activities. Other topics mentioned include visits to the Hermit of
Erving Castle, meetings of agricultural societies in Sunderland, Greenfield, Leverett, and
Amherst, attending a hat braiding bee, seeing P.T. Barnum’s show, noting an earthquake felt
locally, attending a lecture by Henry Ward Beecher, and noting that a neighbor killed seven
rattlesnakes.

Hawks, Charles (1817-1864)
“Memoranda” book, 1843, 1847. Deerfield, Mass.
Listing of money received and expended, kept by a Deerfield
farmer.
1 vol.

manuscript

10 cm.

Charles Hawks moved to South Carolina sometime in the 1850s,
and died there from typhoid fever. His memoranda book was
continued in 1871, apparently by Dwight Allis Hawks (1848-1928),
who made numerous references to transactions with his brothers.
DA Hawks used the book until 1975. At the rear of the volume are
notes in pencil of a religious nature, begun on Aug. 26, 1838,
seemingly in the hand of Charles Hawks.

Hawks, Dwight Allis (1848-1928)
Journal of farm labor, weather, social events, auctions. Deerfield, Mass., June
1867 to January 1875.
1 vol.

mss.

20 cm

Journal kept by a young farmer living in the Wapping section of Deerfield.
Initially begun as a diary “to put in writing my doings and etc that are worth the
time and trouble,” Hawks quickly reverts to brief journal entries that principally
record his agricultural activities (e.g., planting, hoeing, spreading manure,
stripping tobacco, mowing, harvesting, etc.). He also mentions attending dances,
spiritualist meetings at Lake Pleasant, picnics in a variety of locations, dining at
the Pocumtuck Hotel, playing “ball” (baseball?), going to see the Hoosick Tunnel,
and attending numerous auctions. Includes an account of personal expenses, June
through November 1867, at end of volume.

Hawks, Horatio (1819-1865)
Journal, April 1, 1857-Dec. 30, 1864. Deerfield, Mass.
1 vol.

manuscript

24.5 cm.

Journal kept by a farmer in the Wapping section of Deerfield. Hawks
was active in town and church affairs, and served as moderator of town
meeting, justice of the peace, and state representative. He also held the
rank of colonel in the Franklin Cadets before the organization disbanded
in 1854. In single line entries, Hawks notes the weather and his farming
activities (planting, hoeing, harvesting, slaughtering animals), and mentions
elections, meetings, social events, deaths, funerals, visitors, and his local
travels. Hawks does not comment on the events of the Civil War that had
gripped the nation, other than noting that the 52nd Regt., composed of many
local men, had “left camp” in Nov. 1862, and that his brother Charles had
departed for Port Royal, SC, to work with freed slaves, a few weeks later.
Hawks’ final entry occurred on Dec. 30, 1864, just before he left Deerfield
to go to South Carolina to claim his brother Charles’ body. Horatio Hawks
died at sea when the ship he traveled on sank.

Hawks, Zur (1760-1844)
Agricultural weather journal, April 1, 1819-Aug. 21, 1821. Deerfield, Mass., 1819-1821.
1vol. manuscript

20 cm.

Sheldon II:195.
Note: Essentially a weather journal, but does note crops, planting, harvesting, (potatoes), some
domestic activity, and events in town. Refers to events in lives of various people in town—one
particular entry: Dec. 2, 1820 “Col. Stebbins moved his great ox for Boston about 1 o clock in
his Ark, great many spectators to see him move off.”

Higginson, Annie Storrow (1834-1913)
Diary, vol. 1, May 25, 1851-Oct. 22, 1852; vol. 2, Feb. 26, 1854-Oct. 22, 1855; vol. 3, Jan. 1Sept. 5, 1858; vol. 4, May 5-June 30, 1870. Jamaica Plain and Deerfield, Mass., 1851-1870
4 vols. manuscript 15.5 & 25 cm.
Vol. 1 kept at Jamaica Plain; vols. 2-4 kept at Deerfield.
Fuller-Higginson Family Papers, Papers of Annie Storrow Higginson, Box 104.
Note: Vol. 1 records the social, recreational, and romantic life of the teen-age daughter of a
merchant, living in antebellum Boston. Volumes 2 and 3 afford insights into the social life of a
young woman in Deerfield in the 1850s. The Higginson’s seemed to limit their associations in
Deerfield to a few families—the Williamses, Wares, and most particularly the Henry Stebbins
family living on Lot No. 5. They tended to have more friends in Greenfield where they
frequently attended theater and lectures. Activities in town included skating, bowling, dances,
boating on the river (with tea and lemonade), “table-tipping,” parties at Stillwater, Sugarloaf and
“the Rock.” [cf. diary of Agnes Higginson Fuller for these years]. Vol. 2 contains a library list
of Annie’s reading interests. Vol. 4 provides more mature insights into Deerfield social life in
1870 and some sensitive descriptions of the countryside. She also describes the visit to Deerfield
of Professor and Mrs. Louis Agassiz who stayed at the Pocumtuck House. Vol. 4 concludes with
memoranda of personal and household expenditures and expenses for “Horses and vehicles, etc.”

Higginson, Waldo (1814-1894)
Diary, vol. 1, 1862; vol. 2, June 9, 1868-Aug. 26, 1886. Cambridge and Boston, Mass., 1862,
1868-1886
2 vols. manuscript vol. 1, 20.5cm; vol. 2, 18cm
Vol. 1 kept at Cambridge and Boston; vol. 2 kept at Boston
Fuller-Higginson Family Papers, Papers of Anna, Waldo, Susan Louisa, and Thomas Wentworth
Higginson, Box 55.
Note: An account of life in the higher financial and social circles of Boston. Higginson is a
surveyor for the insurance agency of his brother Stephen. Vol. 1 describes financial dealings
(railroad stock) and social life in Civil War Boston. Vol. 2 contains generally terse, single-line
entries, dealing with Higginson’s services on the Harvard Board of Overseers and continuation
of his financial ventures. Vol. 2 includes a record of his 1872 trip to Great Britain with
“T.W.H.” (his younger brother, Thomas Wentworth Higginson). Both volumes record
Higginson’s literary interests.

Hitchcock, James Childs (1841-1864)
Military diary, Apr. 26-July 14, 1864
[n.p.] 1864
1vol. manuscript 15 cm
Serving with the 27th Regt., Massachusetts Volunteers, Hitchcock was captured at Drury’s Bluff
and imprisoned in Richmond, Danville and Andersonville where he died.
Sheldon II:210
Note: Lively, sensitive account of war, reads almost like a novel. At one point, exhausted and
sick, Hitchcock received permission to return to the rear. On his way “I met Gen. Butler and
staff and to my surprise he enquired how it was I was going to the rear. I informed him, he then
squinted me over, and passed on.”

Hitchcock, Nathaniel (1812-1900)
Travel journal, Aug. 18-Sept. 23, 1886, and Aug. 9, 1888. [Buffalo, N.Y., 1886: Readsboro Vt.,
1888]
1vol. manuscript
Sheldon II:210

17.5 cm

PVMA No. 5034

Note: Journal which reflects the interests of one of Deerfield’s 19th century historians. Most of
the journal was written in Buffalo, where Hitchcock stayed with his brother-in-law Henry Childs,
and attended a “Fireman’s Convention” commanded by cousin, Edward Hitchcock. Nathaniel
saw and described Buffalo’s churches, industries, principal cemetery, The Buffalo Crematory,
and the Buffalo Historic Room. He recorded an interesting visit to Niagara Falls where he
reminisced about his earlier visit, 52 years before. The journal also includes a one day visit to
Readsboro, Vt., where he visited the lumber mill and factories owned by the Newton brothers of
Holyoke, Mass. Journal begins and concludes with an index.

Hosmer, James Kendall, (1834-1927)
Diary, Nov. 1862-March 1863. Long Island and Louisiana.
1 vol. mss. 25cm
Incomplete copy by at least two unknown copyists of a military diary kept by Corporal J.K.
Hosmer, Deerfield’s Congregational minister, enlisted in the 52nd Regiment, Mass. Volunteer
Infantry, and was part of a detail assigned to guard the regimental flags or colors. The regiment
participated in the Port Hudson campaign, and was mustered out after nine months. Hosmer
later published his war-time experiences in The Color Guard (Boston, 1864). This copy includes
the transcription of a letter, filling 19 pages, from Hosmer to his parents describing the death of
his brother Edward in Baton Rouge on Jan. 16, 1863, and a poem, “the Dying Soldier,” dedicated
to Edward Hosmer. At the beginning of the volume, the writer notes the death of “Mr. Hosmer”
on April 24.
This copy is essentially the same as George Sheldon’s transcription of the diary (kept in Box 8HCivil War-fol.2), but it ends a few months earlier than Sheldon’s copy.
Shelved in Diary Collection, PVMA

Hosmer, James Kendall (1834-1927)
Journal, Nov. 23, 1862-June 17, 1863. Military journal, commencing at Greenfield, MA, and
ending outside Port Hudson, La.

1vol. manuscript

24.5 cm

Sheldon II:805
Note: This manuscript is a copy of the “Rev. James K. Hosmer Journal.” The journal formed
the basis for Hosmer’s The Color-Guard (Boston, 1864), an excellent account of General
Nathaniel Banks’ Louisiana Expedition. Hosmer describes the journey of Co. D, Mass. 52d
Regiment from Camp Miller in Greenfield to Camp Banks, Long Island, then by the ship
“Illinois” to Ship Island, La. The journal then vividly describes Hosmer’s activities as corporal of
the color-guard during General Banks Louisiana Expedition. Hosmer describes New Orleans,
Baton Rouge, the actions on Bayou Teche under Gen. Grover, the Red River campaign and the
siege of Port Hudson. Various Deerfield men are discussed, including Edward Hoyt, Edward D.
Galand, and George M. Wells. The journal has all the descriptive strength and poignancy of the
book, with some interesting material not found in the book. The journal concludes at about page
198 of The Color-Guard.

Howe, Estes, 1746-1825
Military Journal, May14, 1777-Oct. 13, 1778
1vol. typescript copy 28.5cm
Account of a Belchertown physician; action in eastern New York, from Saratoga to White Plains.
Shaw & Doubleday’s Belchertown, p. 32
In PVMA, Wars. The Revolution 8E, 14-23 folder 8E-14.
Note: Howe’s journal is valuable as a medical record and for its insights into life among the
officers in the Continental army. It records outbreaks of smallpox and other diseases and various
forms of medical treatment – emetics, cathartics, etc. The journal was kept among other places
at Peekskill, Albany, Stillwater, Fort Edward, Fort Miller, West Point and White Plains.
Provides a first-hand account of the First Battle of Stillwater, and the surrender of Burgoyne at
Saratoga. Describes Indian atrocities, and army discipline, and the general discontent with
General Schuyler. Howe knew many officers including Gen. Gates, Gen. Nixon, Col. Putnam
and others. Capt. Daniel Shays served in the same regiment. The journal concludes with
personal and military accounts and a description of the death of Capt. Nathaniel Dwight of
Belchertown on Mar. 22, 1784.

Hoyt, Elihu (1771-1833)
Journal, Nov. 11, 1820-Jan. 10, 1821. Boston, 1820-1821.
1vol. manuscript
20 cm
Kept during the Massachusetts Constitutional Convention of 1820.
Sheldon II:216
In Hoyt Family Papers, Elihu Hoyt Papers, Box 6
Note: A journal in which the daily proceedings of the constitutional convention were informally,
but carefully recorded. The journal conveys as much of the scene, the tedium and excitement,
the ladies at the gallery, as the substance. Hoyt’s efforts to defend the interests of Deerfield, a
small declining town, are recorded. The journal also describes his life outside the convention,
attending and commenting on all the great pulpit orators, Everett, Channing, Ward, and Palfrey.
The great men at the convention are described: John Adams – “looks old and venerable”; Daniel
Webster – “discovered powers of speech beyond my faculty to describe.” Appended is a May
23, 1821 list recording the popular vote on the 14 articles submitted to the people.

Hoyt, Elihu (1771-1833)
Diary and Legislative journal, Feb. 10-Feb. 28, 1820. Boston, 1820.
1vol. manuscript

19.5cm

Sheldon II:216
In Hoyt Family Papers, Elihu Hoyt Papers, Box 6
Note: The record of the Deerfield delegate to the General Court during the winter session of
1820. In addition to entries concerning committee meetings and debates, the diary reflects
Hoyt’s daily life in Boston, attending book auctions, reading in the Atheneum, attending William
Ellery Channing’s sermons at Federal St. Church, and recording the many fires of the period.
Visits of constituents such as Asa Stebbins, Orlando Ware, Thomas Barnard, and Rev. Willard
are mentioned. The journey to and from Boston by sleigh is also briefly described. The burning
issue in the legislature concerned the attempt to move Williams College to Northampton.

Hoyt, Elihu (1771-1833)
Travel journal, July 5-Oct. 20, 1825
1vol. manuscript

15.5 cm

Sheldon II:216.
In Hoyt Family Papers, Elihu Hoyt Papers, Box 6
Note: Journal records Hoyt’s travels as a member of the Canal Commission, charged with
evaluating feasible routes for a canal from Boston to the Connecticut and thence to the Hudson
River. Hoyt journeyed from Boston to Albany, very roughly along the current Route 2, making
observations about agriculture, geology, topography, and local industry as he went, all related to
the possible construction of a canal. He made a second reconnaissance for a southern route,
returning to Boston along (again very roughly) the current Route 20. There is a brief reference to
the Hall Tavern in Charlemont.

Hoyt, Elihu (1771-1833)
Travel journal, “Journal of a tour to Saratoga Springs,” Aug. 3-Aug. 17, 1827
[n.p., 1827]
2 vols.

manuscript 12.5cm

In Hoyt Family Papers, Elihu Hoyt Papers, Box 6
Note: For a summary of the contents of the journal, see the introduction to “Journal of a Tour to
Saratoga Springs: August 1827 by Elihu Hoyt”, ed. by Peter Rippe. S910.74/H868j. Mr. Rippe
has not included Hoyt’s “Appendix” to the journal, which is an engaging and sprightly
commentary on the trip and which should be read in conjunction with the journal.

Hoyt, Elihu (1771-1833)
Legislative journal, May 29-June 16, 1813. Boston, 1813.
1vol. manuscript

15.5 cm

Sheldon II:216
In Hoyt Family Papers, 1-111; Elihu Hoyt, Box 6
Note: Primarily a record of resolution, debate and committee hearings at the General Court.
Most discussion concerned the war: defensive capabilities, impressments, and New England’s
opposition to the war; also the propriety of admitting new states. Hoyt describes the prospect of
Boston afforded from his seat in the House made possible by the removal of Beacon Hill. He
also went on board the “Chesapeake”, meeting Captain Lawrence, just three days before the ship
was taken by the “Shannon.”

Hoyt, Elihu (1771-1833)
Journal, memorandum and account book, July 26, 1790-Mar.28, 1800. Deerfield, Mass., 17901800.
1vol.

manuscript

16 cm

Sheldon II:216
In Hoyt Family Papers, Elihu Hoyt Papers, Box 6
Note: Useful as an insight into the economic activities of the young Elihu Hoyt and as a source
for late 18th century material culture. The manuscript has three principal sections. The first is an
account book, which shows that Hoyt was a purchasing agent who made frequent trips to Boston,
etc. and could supply a great variety of items from bohea tea to a drum for Dennis Stebbins’ boy.
Accounts include beverages, books, clothing, grain, house-hold goods, spices and transportation.
July 26, 1790-Mar.28, 1800; there are also expenses listed for tutoring children. The second
section is the journal of a “tour” to Guilford and New Haven, May14-May 29, 1793, with
Consider Dickinson and his wife and “Ned”. While in New Haven he visited a “museum”
apparently on the college grounds and worshipped with some Sandemanians. The return trip
includes a hilarious account of a night spent at the Phelps’ Inn at Simsbury. The third section is
a weather journal – Nov. 12, 1794-Aug. 1795.

Hoyt, Epaphras (1765-1850)
Journal, Feb.-May, 1801
2 vols.

manuscript

16 cm

Account of a journey from Deerfield, Mass. to Phelps, N.Y. and back; most of the journal was
written in the Geneva-Phelps region.
Sheldon II:215-216
In Hoyt Family Papers, Papers of Epaphras Hoyt, Box 2
Note: A very important source for anyone interested in the Genessee County area and in central
New York in the days before the major canals. From his New England Federalist-Unitarian
perspective, Hoyt describes exhaustively the religious, agricultural, political, cultural and
commercial life of the Genessee region. He also discusses origins of the settlers, suggesting for
instance, a large number of immigrants from Conway. Hoyt made observations concerning the
Sandemanians, lunar eclipse, and the cultural life and domestic economy of the local Indians. He
was also an antiquarian describing early Indian earthworks and French forts. He collected shells
from Seneca Lake for “the Museum at Deerfield.” Hoyt also opened up a store in Geneva and
seriously considered going into trade permanently in western New York.

Leonard, Elizabeth Babcock (1810-1892)
Diary, Aug. 19, 1841-June 13, 1850. Greenfield, Mass., 1841-1850
1vol.

manuscript

20.5cm

Note: Diary recording daily events in the life of a child, Eliza B. Leonard (1841-1933), written
by her mother. Mrs. Leonard was the wife of Theodore Leonard, owner of the Greenfield
Manufacturing Company, maker of textiles. The diary commences with the birth of the child,
and deals entirely with the child’s progress. Excellent for antebellum child-rearing practices and
socialization in a prosperous family. Extensive travel, music and singing lessons, exercises in
charity, etc. Eliza’s teacher in 1850 was Luther B. Lincoln.
Thompson’s Greenfield, II:849.

Newton, Solon Luther (1841-1901)
Diaries, 1862-1866. Greenfield, Mass.
5 vols.

manuscript

12.5 cm

Note: Solon Newton became a collector of furniture and pewter beginning in the 1870s. His
pewter collection is on display in Memorial Hall Museum, Deerfield, MA.
Brief entries, sometimes several days per page, on the weather, family and local matters, going to
the “office,” and occasionally war news. Newton also listed personal expenses and letters
received and written. Diary for 1866 kept at Holyoke, Mass.

Nims, Edwin (1791-1852)
Agricultural journal, May 27-Oct. 19, 1830; Apr. 25-Dec., 22, 1831.
Deerfield, Mass.
1vol. manuscript

16.5 cm

Includes account book probably kept by Edwin Nims and his father, Seth Nims (1762-1831);
beverages, brick yard, general merchandise. [Deerfield, Mass., July 11, 1818-Apr. 30, 1830]
PVMA 5041
Sheldon I:618-19; Sheldon II:254, 256.
Note: Strictly a farm journal, but excellent in description of the cultivation and harvesting of
broom corn. Also mentions fertilization and other crops – Indian corn, oats, rye, turnips, apples
and potatoes. “Hiram, Baxter, Father and myself cradled the Rye from the Thomas Wells Lot in
the Meadow.…” The account book apparently refers to operations carried on at Frary House and
the old Nims Lot. There is a small general store account – probably the one owned by Baxter
Stebbins in 1835. Accounts include items such as “1 Jews harp” and paints – “verdigreen,”
“White Lead.”

Parker, Donald Cross (1895-1980)
Diary. Greenfield, Mass., 1911
1vol.

manuscript

15.5 cm

School and personal activities; Parker graduated from Greenfield High School in 1913. With
this is a summer travel log, 1912; and Greenfield High School graduation program, 1913.

Parker, Eben Newton (1882-1949)
Navigational workbook, USS Enterprise. Boston, 1898-1899
1vol.

manuscript

34 cm

Observations, mathematical exercises, etc., kept by Parker, a naval cadet-in-training from
Greenfield, Mass. He later served as an Ensign in the Navy during WWI.

Putnam, Elsie M. (1864-1949)
Diary. South Deerfield, Mass., Jan. 1- Dec. 31, 1888
1vol. manuscript

21cm

Record of family matters, social activities, and church services.
Note: Putnam moved with her parents (Elbridge and Emily Melendy Putnam) from Cleveland,
Ohio, to South Deerfield at the age of two. She lived the remainder of her life in the town. Her
diary, kept while she was a single woman, primarily records family matters, social events, and
church services. Putnam taught school at the Green River School in Greenfield at the time of the
diary, but mentions it infrequently. She appears to also have worked as a laundress.
Occasionally she traveled, and describes a trip to New York City and a visit to a cotton mill in
Webster, Mass. Putnam led an active life. She was a member of the Congregational Church, the
Women’s Club, the Ladies Aid Society, and the Garden Club – although only her church
activities appear in the diary. In 1902, she became a founding member of the South Deerfield
Needlework Club, and served as its first Secretary/Treasurer. The Club’s record book, kept by
Putnam and others, is stored in the Deerfield Town Papers, Societies & Associations, Box 10.
Putnam also served as correspondent for the Springfield Republican and Springfield Daily News.
She married late in life, becoming Mrs. Edwin Fairbank in 1914. She is buried in Brookside
Cemetery, South Deerfield.

Robbins¸ Julius C. (1815-1882)
Agricultural diary, Jan 1, 1840-Mar. 23, 1882. Deerfield, Mass., 1840-1882
35 vols.

manuscript

21cm

Essentially agricultural journals kept by a farmer in the Wisdom section of Deerfield, west of the
river. Extensive in both time covered and depth of detail.
Sheldon II:270

Sanderson, Martha Ann (b. 1854);
Abby Rice Sanderson (b. 1829)
Diaries of Martha Ann Sanderson and Abby Rice Sanderson, Jan. 10-Feb. 15, 1874; Jan. 1-Apr.
25, 1876. Whately, Mass., 1874,1876
1vol.

manuscript

33cm

Martha Ann Sanderson (called Mattie by her family) kept the earlier diary; her mother, Abby
Rice Sanderson (b. 1829), the later. Crafts’ History of Whately, pp. 552-53.
Note: Quite detailed on domestic life, particularly diet and cooking; also useful in description of
social activities of young women in the 1870s. Diaries are written on blank pages of a family
account book which contains detailed accounts of estate settlements for Thomas Sanderson of
Whately (1746-1824) and his son Eli (1795-1823). A very useful estate inventory of a wealthy
tanner and farmer.

Sheldon, George (1818-1916)
Diary, Apr. 2, 1860-July 12, 1867; “A Sort of a record of Farm operation Local events &
Micelanus [sic] matters generally commenced on the day of Fathers death.”
Deerfield, Mass., 1860-1867
1vol.

manuscript

40 cm

Sheldon II:300.
Note: Excellent source for Deerfield social, cultural and political history during the Civil War
period. Primarily an agricultural diary with very detailed information on crops (oats, corn,
wheat, rye, garden vegetables, tobacco), planting and harvesting, livestock, orchards, and farm
tools. Diary shows Sheldon’s activities as a Republican politician, insurance agent, surveyor,
historian, and antiquarian. Includes a long account of his part in the struggle to prevent the
annexation of Cheapside by Greenfield; information on interior and exterior repairs and
renovation in the Sheldon house; use of Wapping school as a meeting place for political
caucuses; decorations on the First Church at Christmas; Sheldon’s relationship with the
Reverend James K. Hosmer; and Sheldon’s war-time activities. Some quotes: Nov. 30, 1862 “I
am 44 years old today and feel 20 years older at least—which I never shall be.” Dec. 22 & 23,
1865 “Moved into the south rooms. Moved bed down stairs.”

Sherman, Clara Alquist (1877-1944)
Diary: vol. 1, Mar. 3, 1931-Dec. 9, 1934; vol. 2, Dec. 10, 1934-Feb. 2, 1939. Deerfield, Mass.
2 vols.

manuscript

27.5cm

Alquist-Sherman Family Papers, Box 1, folder 1
Note: Diary kept by a rather impoverished artist describing Deerfield life during the Great
Depression years. Much of the diary paints a sensitive, artistic portrait of the landscape, flora
and fauna on Eaglebrook Hill. Sherman was a good amateur ornithologist and naturalist,
devoting most of her pages to Golden Crowned Knights, Pileated Woodpeckers, squirrels, black
snakes, etc. She preferred them to human company, but nevertheless, the diary provides good
portraits of Deerfield citizenry. She had a keen ear for speech and records most of her
encounters with people in dialogue fashion. 1934: “Mrs. Biddle says: Mr. Boyden is not going
to let any more girls into the Academy.’ – ‘Take it with a pinch of salt, Claire.” The diary
includes Henry Wells, Lincoln Wells, Harriet Childs, Arthur Fuller, Richard Arms, Elizabeth
Boyden, and most particularly Kelsey Flower. Mrs. Sherman was apparently from the Hartford,
Ct., area originally, but had lived in Franklin County with her husband for many years. The
diary is interspersed with brief literary sketches and reminiscences. She was appointed an “easel
painter” under the W.P.A. “Dropped the prices on my town views Bunker Hill 50, Manse 50, J.
Williams Door 50.” She had a caustic wit and was something of a feminist. Vol. 2 concludes
with memoranda, sketches, etc.

Sherman, Ernest A. (1919-1971)
Diary, vol. 1, Jan. 1, 1939-Dec. 31, 1943; vol. 2, 1945. Deerfield and Springfield, Mass
2 vols.

manuscript

14; 19.5cm

Vol. 1 kept at Deerfield, vol. 2 kept at Springfield
Alquist-Sherman Family Papers, Box 1, folder 3
Note: Vol. 1 is a record of a young man (the son of artist Clara Alquist Sherman) who wandered
about Deerfield and Greenfield doing occasional odd jobs. Mentions shops and restaurants in the
area and faithfully records each motion picture that he saw at the Garden Theatre. Includes a
brief stint in the Navy (Caribbean) in 1942-43. Vol. 2 was written at the Springfield Y.M.C.A.
and is, likewise, a daily record of trips to the library or the various motion picture theaters in
town.

Stebbins, Dennis (1778-1842)
Farm journal, January 1838-July 1841. Deerfield, Mass.
1vol.

manuscript

33cm.

Ruled columns for labor record (?) and marginal notes of farming activities. Record of wheat
raised, listed at the end.
Sheldon II: 322-23; PVMA no. 15469

Stevens, Joseph Wells (1850-1926)
Diary, Jan.1, 1914-Dec 31, 1922. Greenfield, Mass.
2 vols.

manuscript

14cm

Stevens, a native of Millers Falls, Mass., moved to Greenfield in1871. He worked for the First
National Bank for 55 years, and was its president when he retired in1921. His diary consists of
brief entries regarding weather, local events, and personal news.

Stoddard, Charles N. (1877-1939)
Diary, Jan. 1-Dec. 31, 1895. Greenfield, Mass.
1 vol. manuscript 17 cm.
Born in Erving, MA, Charles Stoddard lived the majority
of his life in Greenfield where he kept this diary begun at
the age of 21. In 1903 he was admitted to the bar and
practiced law in Greenfield for the remainder of his life.
His diary records weather, local events, attending "school"
and studying, and working for his father.
Diary Collection, PVMA Library

Stowell, Myron E. (1839-1864)
Diary, Jan. 1-May 17, 1864. South Deerfield, Mass., Annapolis, Maryland, and various locations
in Tennessee and Virginia.
1 vol.

manuscript

17cm

Diary kept by Stowell, a resident of South Deerfield and soldier in the 21st Regiment
Massachusetts Infantry. Diary begins near Blaines Crossroads, Tenn. Stowell returned home in
early Feb. on furlough, and attends church, prayer meetings, and “singing school.” Several
references made to his brother Charles, a sergeant in the 34th Mass. Infantry, and sister Jennie.
Stowell makes a trip to Worcester and Springfield before returning to his unit in mid-March.
Stowell served in the Hospital Dept.; on one occasion he states that he bathed wounded “Rebs.”
Camp life consisted of writing letters, attending religious services, and washing clothes. Meals
are sometimes described, and there is one mention of playing football. Stowell’s regiment
marched from its quarters in Annapolis to the front in Virginia at the end of April. On May 6
they participated in the Battle of the Wilderness where he manned a rifle pit. They arrived at
Spotsylvania, Va. on May 12, and Stowell records erroneous reports that Richmond had been
captured. His last entry on Tues., May 17, notes that the bands of both armies had begun to play.
Stowell was killed in action the following day. Notes on distances between locations and
accounts of expenses such as food, clothing, stationary, newspapers, and photographs kept at rear
of diary.
Stowell Family Papers, folder 1

Strong, Hezekiah Wright (1768-1848)
[Diary of H.W. Strong and Jonathan Eastman], Jan. 9-Dec. 17, 1818. Amherst, Mass.
1 typescript copy
Note: Brief (approximately 5pp) diary that records weather and events of note in Amherst and
the nation. Particular emphasis on activities related to the founding of Amherst College. No
information available on the location of the original; diary entries made in a copy of the
Massachusetts Register and United States Calendar (1818).
Tuckerman’s Amherst Academy, pp. 173-74; Dexter’s Graduates of Yale College, VI: 380.

Tack, Agnes Gordon (1901-1941)
Diary, Nov. 16-Nov. 25, 1921, with later additions.
Cambridge, Mass.; Tryon, NC.
1 vol.

mss.

21 cm.

Brief description of the train trip to Tryon, where the
Tacks spent the winter. The writer mentions her brother,
Robert, her mother, “Violet” Gordon Fuller, and
father, Augustus. At rear of volume are notes on stationery,
song lyrics, notes on curing hogs, and a poem written by
Alice Pettigrew.
Fuller Higginson Papers, Box 52

Tack, Agnes Gordon (Fuller) (1873-1959)
Diary, Nov. 16, 1908-July 8, 1912. Saranac Lake, N.Y.
1vol.

manuscript

19.5cm

Fuller-Higginson Family Papers, Papers of Agnes Gordon Fuller Tack, Box 49
Sheldon II:170
Note: A sensitive account of life at a sanitarium. Includes sketches of both doctors and patients
in novelistic style, replete with dialogue. Describes her own physical and mental state of mind;
also the routine, diet, and general regime prescribed for tuberculosis. Illuminates her relationship
with her husband, Augustus, and provides sharp psychological insights. Entries are sporadic.

Taylor, Isadore Pratt (1850-1943)
Diaries and notebooks, 1890-1943.
24 vols.

mss.

sizes vary

Diaries and notebooks kept by Isadore Pratt Taylor,
detailing events in the artist's active life. Taylor was
a jewelry designer who lived in Greenfield and Shelburne,
Mass. The diaries detail her various jewelry projects, as
well as painting and embroidery that she did. Taylor was
active in the arts and crafts movement and many civic
groups, including the Greenfield Garden Club, Greenfield
Women's Club, and a drama club. The Deerfield Valley Art
Association features prominently in later diaries. Taylor
also reports on family and friends, local events, such as the
opening of the Mohawk Trail in 1929, world events (e.g.,
the war in Europe), and her travels. Marie Alexander, a
local painter and friend, is mentioned frequently.
In Diary Collection

Taylor, James (1729-1785)
Diary; Deerfield, Mass., 1755
1vol.

manuscript

15.5 cm

Sheldon II:339.
Note: Diary of a schoolmaster in Deerfield. Originally from Norwalk, Conn., Taylor had
graduated from Yale in 1754, and was now studying theology with Rev. Jonathan Ashley.
Although the diary is quite introspective and views all events in the context of God’s will, it does
provide several glimpses into the Deerfield community in 1755. In addition to his teaching
activities, which are described, Taylor also apparently worked in the store of his father-in-law,
David Field. Consequently the Field family is discussed, particularly Taylor’s very young (13year-old) wife, Mary. Other figures from Deerfield include Ashley, Joseph Stebbins, “Sergeant
Hoyt," Justin Bull, and Col. William Williams. One entry reads “After we had drank a Dish of
Tea with ye Ladies Mrs. Hannah Dickinson in particular, wh being over they insisted upon my
playing Button with em, wh I declined for some time but at last foolishly complied with….”
Taylor also mentions military preparations in the town and briefly the reaction to the great
Lisbon earthquake. He discusses Ashley’s sermons at some length and writes about his
predecessor at the school, Eleazer May. An excellent general portrait of a future minister during
that period when he studies theology with an older minister and keeps the local school, (usually
with great reluctance). A small portion of the diary includes a visit to Connecticut, preparatory
to Taylor’s settlement there in the ministry.

Ward, Mary Eliza (1856-1937)
Diary, Jan. 1-Dec 28, 1878. Greenfield, Mass.
1 vol.

manuscript

16 cm

A record of local events and family news. Pages covering the period June 8-July 13 torn
out. Miscellaneous cash accounts and bills payable recorded at end of diary.

Wells, Solomon Clapp (1808-1885)
Agricultural diary, Apr. 20, 1832-Apr. 18, 1851. Montague, Mass.
1vol.

manuscript

10 cm

Buckland, Colrain, Montague vital records, pg. 48
Note: Brief entries concerning pasturage, planting, farm labor and farm economics primarily
raising beef cattle.

Whiting, Margaret C. (1860-1946)
Diary and notebook, 1932.

1 v.

mss.

18 cm.

Margaret Whiting records notes from various early 20th century publications relating to ancient
civilizations, including Central and South America, Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. She
records information about Inca art, pottery and dyeing, as well as a history of the people. She
shows the most interest in the Mesopotamia region, drawing two maps and recording
notes on the civilizations and peoples of the area. She records some notes on color and textiles of
the region, but mostly focuses on the history and chronology of the area. She also has
some notes on the early Indian, Chinese, Egyptian, English, Roman, and Greek civilizations. All
notes are written in pencil.

Wilby, Margaret Anna Ingersoll (1852-1919)
Diaries; July 8, 1875-July 31, 1876; Aug. 1, 1876-Jan. 24, 1877;
Jan. 26, 1877-Sept. 8, 1879, continued June 1, 1904-Oct. 2, 1908.
Salem, Mass.; Portland, Oregon; Detroit, Mich.
3 vols.

manuscript

20 cm

Begun prior to her marriage to Richard Clark Wilby of Cincinnati in 1879, the diaries record
Margaret Ingersoll’s social life in Salem, Mass.. For a period she operated a school, but
ultimately it failed. Of particular note is her account of a voyage to Portland, Oregon, with her
father, Nathaniel Ingersoll, when she moved west to live with him. She later moved to Detroit,
where Richard Clark Wilby was minister of the First Unitarian Church, just prior to their
marriage. The last diary continues in 1904 and mentions a visit to Deerfield where Richard Clark
Wilby had served as minister of the First Congregational Church from 1892 to 1896.
In Wilby Family Papers

Wilby Papers
Papers donated in 2008 & 2009 by the heirs of Viola Hasty Wilby (1916-2007) of Deerfield,
Mass. The collection includes letters, diaries, and other documents relating to members of the
Ingersoll family of Salem, Mass., and the Wells family of Deerfield, Mass. related to the Wilbys
by marriage.
Individuals represented in the collection:
Margaret Foote Ingersoll (1794-1818) of Salem, MA. Wife of Nathaniel Bowditch Ingersoll.
Margaret Ingersoll Wilby (1852-1919) dau. of Nathaniel B. and Margaret F. Ingersoll; wife of
Richard Clark Wilby.
Richard Clark Wilby (1850-1936) of Cincinnati. Minister of Deerfield’s First Church, 1892-97.
Died in Detroit, MI.
Richard Ingersoll Wilby (1880 -1920) of Peoria, IL and Deerfield. Son of Richard C. and
argaret.I. Wilby; planning engineer of the Toledo, Peoria & Western Railroad.
Francis Bowditch Wilby (1883-1965). Son of Richard C. and Margaret I. Wilby.
Margaret Crowinshield Wilby (1890-1968) of Toronto. Dau. of Richard C. and Margaret I.
Wilby; commercial artist.
Richard Wells Wilby (1911-1997) of Deerfield, MA. Son of Richard I. and Katherine Wells
Wilby.
Viola Hasty Wilby (1916-2007) of Deerfield, MA. Wife of Richard W. Wilby.
George M. Wells (1833-1883) of Deerfield, MA. Son of Joel and Sarah Wells. Farmer and Civil
War soldier.
Elizabeth Hawks Wells (1845-1938) of Deerfield, MA. Dau. of Charles and Mary Hawks Wells
of Shelburne.
Abby Tirrell Wells (b. 1876) of Deerfield, MA. Dau. of George M. and Elizabeth H. Wells.
Helen Wells Field (1836-1919) of Conway, MA. Sister of George M. Wells.

CONTAINER LIST
BOX 1:

Ingersoll, Margaret Foote (1794-1878)
Correspondence, 1865. (5 items) Letters written by her grandson, Nathaniel Bowditch
Ingersoll, while on a voyage from New York to Oregon.

Wells, George Merrill (1833-1883)
Diaries; Nov.-Dec., 1862; Jan.-July, 1863. Long Island; Baton Rouge; Louisiana. 2
vols. A record of Wells’ Civil War service in Co. D, 52nd Regiment of Mass. Volunteers
prior to and during the Port Hudson campaign. With these is a small New Testament,
dated 1862, which Wells apparently had with him in the army.
Letters, Dec. 1857; 1858; April 1863 (3 items). Letters received

Wells, George Merrill (cont.)
Letters, Nov. 1862-June 1863 (36 items). Written by Wells while in the army, mostly
addressed to his mother, Sarah, and sister, Helen.
Misc. Civil War documents; samples of Confederate paper currency and promissory
notes (10 items)

Wells, Elizabeth Hawks (1845-1938)
Inventory of furniture, fixtures, and silverware in the Elizabeth Hawks Wells house (Lot
22.1) made by her in c. 1936. Includes notes on makers and previous owners of objects.

Wells, Abby Tirrell (b. 1876)
“The Deerfield Daisy,” a manuscript newspaper “published by Abby T. Wells and Maria
Mitchell Champney (b. 1877). Ten issues, June-Sept 1887.

Field, Helen Wells (1836-1917)
Documents regarding the settlement of her estate (10 items)

Wilby, Margaret Anna Ingersoll (1852-1919)
Diaries; July 8, 1875-July 31, 1876; Aug. 1, 1876-Jan. 24, 1877; Jan. 26, 1877-Sept. 8,
1879, continued June 1, 1904-Oct. 2, 1908. Salem, Mass.; Portland, Oregon; Detroit,
Mich. 3 vols.
Album of notes, clippings from magazines, and poems, 1868 with later (1913) edits
BOX 2:

Wilby, Margaret Anna Ingersoll (cont.)
Letters, 1867-1918 (17 items). Letters from her father, Nathaniel Ingersoll, her mother,
Deborah Hunt Ingersoll, her children, Carleton, Francis, Richard Ingersoll, and Margaret,
and from miscellaneous correspondents.
Manuscripts of lectures and articles, 1888-1894 (7 items); manuscripts of lectures and
articles, 1895-1900 (6 items)
Misc. notes and writings

Wilby, Richard Clark (1850-1936)
Letters, 1871-1919; misc. documents including “A list of Father’s Books” and a
manuscript of what may be one of his sermons (14 items)

Wilby, Richard Ingersoll (1880 -1920)
Notebook relating to his work as assist. engineer of the Toledo, Peoria and Western
Railroad, 1904; scrapbook of newspaper and magazine clippings, 1917 and undated.

Wilby, Richard Ingersoll (cont.)
Includes Class of 1901 Harvard College, a pamphlet addressed to graduates [SHELVED
IN SCRAPBOOK COLL.]

Wilby, Francis Bowditch (1883-1965)
Letter to his wife from France, 1918 (1 item)

Wilby, Margaret Crowinshield (1890- 1968)
Letter from “K” (Katherine Wells Wilby) describing the 1936 flood in Deerfield

Wilby, Richard Wells (1911-1997)
Documents relating to his Turnip Yard Pottery business (14 items); papers relating to his
death and memorial service (5 items)

Wilby, Richard & Viola
Miscellaneous cards and letters, 1959-1983 and undated (20 items)

Wiby, Viola Hasty (1916 -2007)
Letters to Lee (Mrs. Bartlett) Boyden, 1989-1994 and undated (45 items); miscellaneous
letters and other materials (6 items)

Miscellaneous photocopies & clippings
Includes copies of photographs of family members (originals in Memorial Hall Museum)
and biographical materials (14 items)

Anecdotes and Reminiscences. A small “labor of love,”
undertaken for the special benefit of Mary Willard Lincoln
by her aunt, Mary Willard
The Pinckney, Boston
June 18, 1892
transcript of the original manuscript in the P.V.M.A. Library

Page 1:
Anecdotes and Reminiscences
“Once upon a time,” as my mother & I were sitting quietly in our pew, a rather
singular looking man entered the church, aimed directly at us, & too a seat by me. First
he took two handkerchiefs, a white, one & a colored silk one, from his pocket, & laid
them on the seat; a smelling bottle also. Then he rose, and placed his hat on the
communion-table. When Mr. Moors read the parable of the Prodigal Son, he groaned
audibly, & (I think), covered his face with his handkerchief. He joined in the singing,
without my will knowing the tune. He was quiet during the remainder of the service;
but after it was over, said to me, “Give my love to the Dr. I am going up to Dennis
Stebbins’. Lord! I know where Dennis Stebbins lives.”
He proved to be a man by the name of Emmons, who had many years before lived
in Deerfield & who was well known among the under-graduates in Cambridge as “Pop”
or Orator Emmons.” I think he sold egg-pop, as well
Page 2:
as made speeches. After the afternoon-service he called on my father, whom I am very
sure he greeted with a kiss, saying, “Willard, I owe all that I am to you.” Then he fell
into a really fine paraphrase of the Lord’s prayer, in the mist of which he gave thanks
that he had “returned after an absence of twenty years with credentials, that would put
to the blush the diplomas of all our colleges.” Next he set out chairs, & danced about to
show us how he had decoyed Mrs. President Polk away from some grand partner at the
White House. It was with difficulty that we got rid of him.
William Barnard took him to see Gen. Hoyt, whom he also saluted with a kiss.
The General growled out, “Barnard, who the devil have got here.
Another insane person, who was a frequent caller at our house, was Mr. Sam.
Goodhue, a very gentlemanly person, who, as was said, had lost his reason in
consequence of an unfortunate love-affair. On one of his calls, he took up an AntiSlavery Almanac, & exclaimed, “What’s this? Dr. Willard, I hope you are not an
Abolitionist. If I had the niggers, I’d give them a dose of arsenic all round; & one
Page 3:
didn’t do, I’d give them another.”
One morning when a strange clergyman, who had come the day before to preach,
was calling on my father, Mr. G. appeared, & was ushered into the room without any
appointment fore explanation to Mr. Willington. My father soon afterward left the room
for a short time; when Mr. G. asked Mr. W. whether he had a family. Happily he said
that he had; for Mr. G. then turned to me & said, “They told me down street that this
gentleman had come courting you, & I might have to fight a duel.” Through Mr.
Willington was not easily discomfited, he was quite unequal to the occasion; but happily
I was able to say that I should be sorry to have any blood shed on my account.
While in the subject of insane people, I will give my mother’s experience when
she was young in Hingham. Ben Hammond, who had been under the care of my
grandfather, Dr. Barker, for some head-trouble when he was a boy, had become insane.
Thought he had not been in the house for many years, he appeared one terribly hot
evening. The parlor had been aired early, & the windows

Page 4:
& blinds closed to keep out the heat as much as possible. He threw everything open,
turned the chairs & tables upside down, & then seated himself between two mirrors very
much perplexed by seeing himself reflected so many times. He soon announced that a
ship was to sail that night for the Holy Land, which he evidently confounded with the
spirit-world. My mother, he said, was to be one of the passengers; & he wished her to
set down the names of such persons, as she would like for fellow- passengers. When she
took her work & sat down, he said, “You may employ yourself in any way you please; but
this will be the last night you will spend on earth. And how do you think you shall feel,
when you stand at the head of a dance,that will reach from the rising to the settingsun?”
He spent most of the day & it is not strange that my mother felt somewhat
superstitious when a fearful thunder-tempest came up in the afternoon. There was no
one else in the house, except her mother, who was very timid, & an old servant woman.
My grandmother in her alarm got in between two feather-beds. Ben Hammond
followed her into her retreat, & said, “Don’t be alarmed, Mrs. BarPage 5:
ker. It’s only artificial thunder & lightning. Take me by the hand, & we’ll advance above
it all.” My mother’s uncle came in at last, & persuaded him to go.
He appeared once more before he was sent to some place of confinement. It was
on a bright moonlight night, when he was very scary. His whole clothing was an old
black bonnet, & his mother’s short cloak. He seated himself in my grandmother’s front
fence, & imagined that he had the presidency of Harvard College for sale at auction. He
called in the neighbors, Tom, Peter, & Harry to bid, striking it off at last to the old
serving-woman. He called out, “Biels got the prise. Come here ‘Biel, & I’ll crown you the
Brother of Masons.”
This same Biel had a son, who “took sick” & died. As the end drew near, some
one thought it proper to read him a chapter in the Bible. He selected the one where
Sampson tied firebrands into the foxes’ tails, & sent them into the Philistines’ corn. His
mother said that, if he had lived a little longer, he would have learned to play “The girl I
left behind me” on the violin.
Page 6:
This little book will be a jumble as to dates & subjects, it would be so nearly
impossible to have any system in these reminiscences. When I was a very little girl, a
line at the beginning of one of Dr. Watt’s hymns troubled me a good deal. The line was,“Mistaken souls, who dream of heaven.” I had had one or two dreams of heaven, &
asked my father if it was wicked. I think he easily relieved my mind. I shocked him one
day, however, I think, by telling that an ant had bitten me, & I had given up the ghost.
One day when my mother dressed me in a favorite little white divinity gown, &
told me that she going to take me to a lecture, I certainly thought it was to be a ball. I
was a good deal puzzled when I found that we were going to church; but concluded that
the people would dance up & down the broad aisle. It was a great disappointment, when
the lecture turned out to be just like a Sunday service.

We children had been told that a bear lived under the breast-work of the pulpit, &
would come out & catch us, if we were naughty at church. One Sunday, just as Samuel &
I were going into the church-door with our mother, we met a [*see page 40 & 42]
Page 7:
When Luther had a little passed his birthday of four, I took him in a lovely spring
morning for a walk to the railroad arch, about a third of a mile. Notwithstanding his
keeping a close hold on my hand, he had several falls in the wet snow. The dogs &
horses frightened him very much, & the shrill crow of a Donkey nearby finished him off.
He was in constant fear that we had lost our way; & when we came in sight of our house,
said in a tone of deep feeling, “There’s our dear old home. We were afraid we never
should see it again.
One day when he was playing in the yard with his little wheelbarrow, his uncle
Sam heard him, & called him, saying, “Lutie, while I have a glass of rum or a crust of
bread, you shan’t want for them.” Luther, a little vexed, perhaps, by being called from
his play, said, “Uncle Sam, I wish you’d mind your own business. I don’t want your rum;
& as for crusts of bread, we have enough of those at home.” He particularly disliked
them.
When Susan was a little thing, her uncle Sam took her to walk one day with
himself & a young
Page 8:
friend. They were engaged in talking with each other, & said nothing to her. Feeling
herself neglected, she said after a while, “you needn’t say anything to me, for I shan’t say
anything to you”.
When John was eight years old, he went for a walk with me in West Cedar St. My
knees used to give out when I was tired, so that I could not walk straight forward. I had
told John that when I began to stagger, I should turn & go home. I asked two or three
times if he had not got tired of walking so slowly; but he said he was not; At last,
however, his patience was exhausted, & he said, “Auntie, when are you going to begin to
stagger?” I took the hint, & went home.
One day, when Mary was about five years old, she took a fancy to play with my
screw-pincushion. I had my doubts about letting her have but on the whole did not
think she could hurt it. She screwed it on a table, gave it a great pull, & snapped it into
two. Then she said, “Whose fault do you think it was that I broke this? You are older
than I am, & you let me have it. I think it was your fault.” Some time afterward, when
she saw the pieces, she said, “I remember that I broke that, & I was a very
Page 9:
little sorry.” She pulled her grandmother’s scissors apart; & said, “Two scissors. No
matter, Janjam,”- her name for grandma.
In my childhood Henry Hoyt, a handsome boy, living opposite, was our only boyplaymate, except little John Williams, who was some years younger. Henry was often
invited in. One afternoon we had a little tea party, & as our cousin by marriage, William
Pomeroy, was staying at Mrs. Hannah Williams, it was necessary to invite him with
Elizabeth & Caroline Williams. Henry had already arrived when they came; but when a
second boy came, Susan crept in under a table, instead of going to meet him. That same

afternoon we had just apples enough to go round; & as it happened that Henry had
already had one in another room, we did not see fit to offer him one again.
One evening we invited him in to make molasses-candy. He came looking very
nicely dressed, but went home much dilapidated, - Susan, who was then generally much
more quiet then I was, having become very antic. She had torn the ruffle from his collar,
& made
Page 10:
his nose bleed by throwing a ball of candy, which hit it. He referred to this in more
comic verses, written about forty years afterward. I think they are in The Family Book.
It was our custom to exchange pies with him (Henry Hoyt) at Thanksgiving-time.
Once he took a fancy to carry our squash pie to the hen-pen to eat. He set it down &
went back to the house for a knife & fork. While he was gone the hens naturally took
possession of the pie, and, as his mother said, he went back to the house yelling (pg. 13).
The Thanksgiving before we left Deerfield-1860-he sent us the verses mentioned above.
To make another skip, when Susan Lincoln was three years old, her grandfather
was very much pleased with the answer she made to his question, “do you think you
have much character, Sussy?.” She said, with a pert little air, that she sometimes had,
“Mary Perham says I’m no great things.” About that time she had a bad habit of
throwing things into the fire for which her grandfather thought best to reprove her,
Accordingly he said to her, “Sussy, if you do such things, you can’t come into our room.”
Fiddlestick, said
Page 11:
she, “what does that signify?” He said no more.
While the family are living at Sunny Side, Mary went into the street on morning
with the young girl, Rosie Bumer, & came home alone, saying that Rosie had died in the
street. When Rosie appeared soon after, Mary said that she had come down from
heaven. One of M.’s worst deeds was throwing her Uncle Sam’s silk hat into a well.
When I was a child I was delicate, & troubled with coughs all winter. Probably it
would have been better that I should have been sent out regularly, instead of being
housed almost entirely during the cold months. One lovely spring day the children took
a walk up in “the lot”, as it was not thought prudent for me to walk, Adam Williams, who
was boarding in the family, offered to draw me in Samuel’s little wagon. When we came
to the ditch, he was sure that he could draw me across. I was equally sure that he could
not. However, I yielded, & the consequence was that he tipped me over backward into
the ditch. The water filled my cape-bonnet, & ran down my back, so that I was obliged
to go home ingloriously. I think he never forgot it.
Page 12:
Gen. Barker used to come now & then, & stay two or three months. When he
came he used to think that we children behaved better than Mrs. Jerome Cushing’s
children with whom he spent much of his time; but I think he always changed his mind
before he left. He always brought us a present. Once he brought a jackknife to Samuel,
who of course wanted to use it. So he rose from the breakfast-table before the rest, &
tried his knife by cutting notches in the edge of a solid mahogany table. When my father
knew it, he told Samuel that if he did such things, he must be sent away from home.

Susan & I concluded that we would go with him, and the began our preparation by
cutting a pair of flannel mittens for him. Our plan was to go to the top of “the lot”, & set
some boards sloping against the fence till we could build something better. We thought
that Ellen Roberts would bring us potatoes once in a while, & that we should go down to
“meeting”, as it was called, on Sunday. We were quite disappointed when we found that
Samuel was not likely to be sent away.
About that time, I presume, a menagerie
Page 13:
was quartered in a barn not far from us, & mother took us children to see the animals.
Samuel had boasted before of the great things, that he should do to the lion. He would
run a stick into the cages;- he should strike him, & he should kill him. As we
approached the barn, however, he heard the lion growl, not roar; & his courage failed
him, that he was obliged to go home, without entering the barn. When we returned,
however, & told him of the elephant, the ichneumon, &c., & most of all, I think the
“Dandy Jack,” he summoned courage to go again with Ellen Roberts, & came home
alive. For some time afterward, when he boasted of what he was going to do, we told
him to remember the lion. He certainly was not given in his mature years to boasting
either of what he intended to do, or of what he had done.
One evening little Parkhurst undertook to have what he considered a churchservice. His sermon began, “One day I went to Buffalo, & I met a buffalo.” He called on
his imaginary choir to sing Robinson Crusoe. Then in a very reverent tone he began to
repeat the Lord’s Prayer. The incongruity struck his mother & me so forcibly, that we
both
Page 14:
laughed, especially his mother. This so surprised & grieved the poor little boy, that he
burst into tears, & could not to on with his service.
He was a wonderfully wise & thoughtful child, thought fond of fun & frolic. While
the family lived in Greenfield during his eighth year, his mother was greatly tried by the
vexatious ways of a person, whom she had taken to board. She very seldom spoke to
Parkhurst of these trials; but one day she was sore-tempted to tell him. She said that he
was very sympathetic for a while; & then said to her, “Mother, you should forget those
thoughts.”
When he was six years old he was very fond of hearing me tell the story of Mary,
Queen of Scots. I used to repeat the Latin lines, composed by her on the eve of
execution, which he always wished me to translate. Once when I had translated “paena”
punishment, instead of pain or suffering, as I generally did, he looked very thoughtful, &
then said, “Punishment for doing nothing wrong! That isn’t punishment. It is trial.”
Perhaps I had given him too favorable view of the character of the unfortunate queen.
Once, when I exclaimed, “O, my goodness!” he said “Auntie, have you goodness
enough to call upon?” I doubt whether
Page 15:
I had ever used that exclamation before, & one may easily believes that after that
implied reproof. I have not often done this since. (# pg. 16)
When Parkhurst was four years old his mother

brought him & Susan from Hingham for a visit of several weeks. Mr. John G. Williams’
family then occupied the north part of our house. The children, Kitty & Sammy, spent a
great deal of time in our rooms, one being denied an entrance, except for a little while
after dinner, when we stipulated for rest. One morning, while Parkhurst was with us,
little Sammy, who was somewhat younger than himself, came to the door of the room
where we were sitting, hoping to come in. Parkhurst opened it a few inches, & said with
great dignity, “We’re engaged here,” adding, “ I don’t believe you know who made you.”
When I was a child I had unbounded faith in Susan’s wisdom & veracity,
sometimes to my misleading and sorrow, though I do not think that she was
intentionally told be a falsehood. I was very timid, somebody having told one ghost &
hobgoblin stories, till I was afraid to cross a dark entry alone. I sometimes seemed to
see dreadful faces after I went to bed. Susan told me that, if I could see them with me
eyes closed, they were really there. Of course I did see them, & knew that they were
certainly there.
Page 16:
It cost me much effort for years after I grew up to overcome this fear of darkness.
It was only by going about the house a great deal without a light, standing still when I
felt as if something were about to lay hold of me from behind, & investigating any
mysterious-looking object when I could, that I overcame it at last.
When Susan was married, & I for the first time had a room alone, I took one that
looked out on a long dismal-looking range of tombs in the Hingham cemetery, then so
forlorn, & now so beautiful. I resolved to overcome any shrinking from the night; in
order to do this, made it a rule to look at it every night; after putting out my light. Being
faced with granite, it was visible whenever the night was not very dark. It is now so
draped with vines, that everything revolting is hidden. I think it must be owing to this
experience, that I have since been almost invisibly drawn into doing things, from which
I shrink at first.
When Susan W. Lincoln was very young, though she never was a deceitful child,
she told me a great many lies, or what appeared to be so to us. Perhaps some of them
were the offspring of a vivid imagination. She was fond of dictating little letters to
friends, in one of which she said, “Myself is coming discouraged about telling lies.”
There never was a more truthful person than she afterward was
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She would send “kiss-messages” in her letters. Once when Mr. Parkhurst sent her a kiss
in a letter, she said, “I will wear it on my forehead.” When I sent her a little letter, she
kept it tightly in her hands for some time, & would not give it up long enough to have it
read. When she had her first pocket, she told a young minister that she expected to be
perfectly happy. Mr. Rufus Ellis, then a young man, talking with her one day, told her
she was a “little old-fashioned thing,” as she was in her style of talking from living
entirely with grown people, she answered, “Old fassens are as good as new fassens.”
She had an imaginary acquaintance, of whom she talked a great deal;- Mrs.
Fingleton. We never knew what her idea was, nor what put the name into her head.
Her first sight of a colored person occurred to strike terror into her. He was a
clergyman of great height & wide. She opened the door of our dining-room, where he

was standing, gave him one look, & fled without a word. This same “Brother Lear’s”
delivered a lecture in our church in Deerfield, in which he told his adventures on board a
steamer, where he had occasion to spend a night. He was told that, an account of his
color, he must sleep on deck. He remonstrated, saying that he did not wish to
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“cause any inundation on board the boat,” but that other weakness of his lungs could
make it impossible for him to bear the exposure of sleeping on deck. Notwithstanding
this pulmonary weakness, he had a stentorian voice, & as Geo. M. Rice said, “roared like
one of the bulls of Bashan.”
The name of G. M. Rice reminds me of a little scene while he was preaching in
Deerfield. He came a great deal to our house, sometimes reading aloud very agreably;
sometimes talking, playing checkers or chess, & one evening at least playing checkers to
his own accompaniment on the flute. As he sat at the piano singing in a powerful
barritone voice, Sussy, “who sat by me, spread out her dress, as was her habit when she
had anything special to say, & said, “Uncle Sam hollers sometimes.”
When Sussy was very small her uncle Sam told her once that he was very hungry,
& she must get him something to eat. When she asked him what she should get, he
answered, “Some mustard.” She ran off & soon returned, bringing everything, which of
course, he could not see. She told him to open his mouth, & she popped in a teaspoon of
mustard, thinking that it was the thing he wanted. He exclaimed, “The devil!” For
sometime after that, whenever she went to the post office, Mrs. Williams would ask her
what Uncle Sam said
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when she gave him the mustard; & she would answer, “Unc Sam say debol.”
When John was very small, I told him one cold autumn morning that Jack Frost
had been round, & pinched the flour, he said very earnestly, “I shall punish Jack Frosty.”
The first time I think that he notices frosted windows, I told him that Jack had marked
them; & he said, “Jack Frost knows how to make pretty pictures.” Perhaps some
moralists would say that I did wrong in leading him to think that there was such a
person as “Jack Frost”. Perhaps I did, but I do not think that it’s harmed him.
He used to be very bewitching when he came to me early in the morning, his eyes
with their beautiful pupils dilated in the dim light. Sometimes he would be very quietly,
wishing of course to be entertained, tell it was time for me to rise. Then I used to wrap
him in my long dressing sacque, with a pair of velveten slippers too large for myself on
his feet, & set him down by the stove till he was called. Once for a considerable length of
time, he wanted some new plaything every morning; which, as I had no toys, put me
very much to my trumps to find something that would answer.
“Once upon a time,” when there was no organ in our
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church in Deerfield, or no other instruments were used by the choir, The chorister being
absent, the bass stared out in the tune Dresden on a different key from the other parts.
The effect may bring be imagined. My father endured until the second verse had been
begun. Then he brought down his cane with three loud thumps on the pulpit floor. This
put an immediate end to the performance; but some leading members of the choir were

very indignant, & said that they were going to take a new pitch at the beginning of the
second verses, not realizing that they had already begun it. (opposite page- top par)
On another Sunday, when Geo. M. Rice was preaching for us, there was a
disaffection between members of the choir, & we were left without singing for a time.
After a Sunday or two Mr. Rice took it upon himself to name the tune after reading the
hymn, & to lead the congregation in singing. Unluckily he selected a long metre tune for
a common
metre hymn, or vice versa. Of course at the end of the second line there were two
supernumerary notes or syllables, as the case might be. I forsaw the evil & had not
joined in singing; but those who had came to grief, especially Mr. Rice. He had his full
share of self possession, but found the situation rather trying. He changed the tune &
made a new departure.
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On a certain Sunday when Rev. G. F. Simmons , a very delightful man, but with
some little peculiarites, had come on an exchange, the organist & chorister both were
absent; & the choir felt distrustful about attempting to sing without a leader. Mrs.
Simmons read the first hymn & sat down. A dead silence followed. Mr.S gave out the
hymn again, & again seated himself. Then one of the choir plucked up sufficient courage
to say, “We shall not be able to sing this morning.” Mr Simmons answered, “I wish you
would try.” When the choir found that apparently the service would not go on without
their aid, they made the attempt & succeeded well I believe. (#p. 64)
As Mary wished me to give my earliest reminiscences of Deerfield, I will try to
describe the street as I first remember it. From our front windows we had a fine view of
mountain, meadow, & river also, when it was high, unbroken by any building, from the
Indian house, standing in the site of the house lately owned by Mrs. Kate Hoyt, to the
large hipped-roof house, new occupied by the Whittleseas, I think;- then occupied &
owned by Baxter Stebbins. Next north of that was Mr. Eliphalet Dickinson’s then next
beyond Major Dickinson’s afterward Henry Stebbins’; beyond those houses Seth
Sheldon’s, Col. Ashley’s, & Col. Dickinson’s. Crossing
Page 22:
the street, as the brick house in the common was not built, -(by Asa Stebbins)-until
some years later, first came Mr. E. Hinsdale Williams’ house, quite imposing, with a
balustrade on the roof. To the south of that were the houses of Dennis Stebbins,
William Dickinson, Mrs. Bardwell, Zur Hawks, [Stearns] Zenas Hawks, David Sheldon,
[Pink house] a little cottage, occupied by Mrs. Russell & Mrs. Merrill, Col. Stebbins
[Mrs. Lamb] brick house, & then ours. [Manse] To the south of our was a very old
house, owned by Deacon Arms, the roof at the back [site Orthodox Parsonage] sloping
nearly to the ground. Then came Deac. Arms store, William Russell’s house, the
“tavern”, kept by Deacon Nims, Mr. Augustus Lyman’s house, now Miss Baker’s, [Frary
hse] Edwin Nims in the corner of the old Academy Lane, Mr. Orlando Ware’s [Thorn] in
the other corner, Mrs. Thomas Williams’ cottage, Mrs. Catllin’s, [Cyrus Brown] Mr.
Quartus Wells, [Henry Wells] Joel Wells, [Elizabeth Wells] though I think this latter
was not built for several years. Mr. William Barnard’s [Delano], on the corner, Mr. Tyler
Arms’. Again, crossing to the west-side, on the corner lived Mr. Rufus Sexton’s
[Abercrombie]. Toward the river from that were Mrs. Tom Bardwell’s one other house,

[Mrs. Burke Lincoln] I think & then Mr. Amos Temple’s, afterward undermined by the
wearing away of the river-bank. To the north of Mr. Saxton’s was a little shoemaker’s
shop, then Gen. Hoyt’s,Mr. Horace Hoyttt’s,[Estabrook] Mr. Eben Saxton’s [Herbert
Childs], Mr. Cooley’s, now moved to the old Academy Lane.
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Mr. Elijah Williams’, [Champney] the blacksmith’s shop, [Mrs. Catlin’s house] –(Mr.
Ray’s house not having been built till I was about fourteen year old,)- Mr. Ephraim
Williams’, [Ada Brown] familiarly called “Uncle Bob,” Widow Williams, of ‘Squire John,
who endowed the old Academy, Uncle Bill Russells’ [Whiting], Mr. Reeds [Sam Well],
grandfather of Mrs. Delano, &c. Williams’, Mr. Consider Dickinson’s [academy], Mr.
Ware store, Capt. William Wells [?], then the Indian House, Col. Hoyt’s. On the lane
toward the river were the two Hitchcock houses.
About in the centre of the common stood the old “meeting-house”, (described by
me in my childhood as the “squash-colored meeting-house”.) It was a wooden building
fronting on the street; the front-door opening directly into the auditorium. Toward the
north was another entrance through a porch, which was in fact a tower, supporting the
belfry & a very handsomely shaped spire, surmounted by the vane now on the brick
church. There was a clock under the belfry; but at had ceased to go before my
recollection. The pulpit was at the western side; - a solid structure of oblong shape, with
many panels. In a point under the breast-work, I had been told that a bear had his
habitation, & would come out & carry off children who did not behave well during the
service. Once, when I had been overcome by some little thing, that happened
Page 24:
just as I entered the church, & I had laughed several times in thinking of it, but without
being carried off by the bear, I quite lost my faith in him, & he was no longer a terror to
me. (A repetition)
All the pews were large & square, & finished with a railing, supported by very
small posts, if they could be called so, some of which squeaked delightfully when they
were turned. The seats, too, were raised on hinges while the congregation stood in
prayer, & went down with a great slam at the close. People were seated according to
social rank. We sat in a pew next but one to the pulpit on the right, in company with
Mrs. Deac. Arms & the widow of Squire John Williams. In the large gallery was a long
pew, called “the old maids” pew, though I do not know that anyone of the sisterhood
ever availed herself of it. I think too, that there was a “widow’s” pew. Behind a door was
“the negroes’ seat.” While the new church was in process of building, the old church was
still used for Sunday services, though the pews on the ground floor had been taken out,
& the space used as a workshop by the carpenters; those of the congregation, who could
not be accommodated in the galleries, sitting on barrels & work benches. It was quite a
picturesque scene. One morning my mother found a snug little seat for herPage 25:
self & her two young daughters, but soon received a message from a lady in the parish,
to the effect that it was the negroes’ seat. Of course it was not thought proper that she
should remain there.

The church was built in 1729, & taken down in 1824, when the brick church was
built. I recollect the long line of men, stretched toward the north of the common,
pulling down the spire, in order to take off the vane. The pillars of the belfry had been
partly sawed off, in the expectation that the peak would come there; but the tower did
give way several feet below. I am indebted to Mr. Sheldon for the fact that as men had
been with difficulty dissuaded from staying in the belfry while the spire was being pulled
down. Had he remained there, he would have fallen to the ground with the wreck.
A little to the south of the church stood the schoolhouse;- an ugly, square, brick
building of two stories, the upper one of which was a hall, which was used for lectures, &
c., with a dark, break-neck flight of stairs leading to it. After the removal of the church,
this building became still more conspicuous & offensive to the eye of taste. Though it
was regarded very much as a nuisance, it is entirely doubtful when it would have been
removed,
Page 26:
if some unknown person,- (though I think my brother was one of the initiated), had not
set fire to it in a very raining evening. Some of the leading men, who were apparently
trying to extinguish the fire, took care to let it burn, until the building was beyond the
expense of repair. Soon afterward the brick walls were taken done. When they had been
removed as far as the hall-floor, Col. Clay sent for a violin, & the workmen celebrated
the occasion by a dance in eight of all the neighborhood. I think that this was early in
the forties.
Probably during the winter of 1823-4, my father, feeling that his blindness might
make it necessary that he should resign his parish before very long, & that the condition
of the old church might be an obstacle in the way of securing a satisfactory sucessor,
preached a sermon from the text, “Is it time for you O! ye to dwell in your ceiled houses,
& the Lord’s house lie waste.” Whether or not it was the effect of the sermon, measures
were taken very soon for the building of the brick church in the summer & autumn.
Through the vigilance & experience of Mr. William Russell, the very best lumber was
secured, & the church was considered a fine specimen of its kind. Before the pews were
put in, there was a very remarkable echo that would repeat words spoken inside three or
four times at best,
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I think.” While the church was going on, standing in our parlor one day, I heard a cry or
groan, & a heavy fall. It proved that a plank had broker under one of the workmen, &,
he had fallen from the bell- deck forty feet, to the floor below. He was taken up for dead,
& laid under one of the elms in front of deac. Arms’, - now the site of the parsonage, but
revived, & was at work again in six weeks. It was thought that the plank, going down
with him, had somewhat broke his fall.
Mr. Russell did not profess to believe much; but was quite a large pewholder,
though I think he never made any personal use of his pews. After his wife’s death, he
called on my father, & said, “We’re going to carry the old woman out tomorrow. She was
an old customer of yours, & I wish you would come & say something to the people.”
When both churches needed a bell, for some reason, Uncle Bill [Mr. Russell] was
sent to New York, I think, to make the purchase. He said that on must be keyed on U.,
the other in O. At that time there had been a recent importation of Spanish Convent

bells, to be cast into cannon. I believe they were to be had in reasonable terms. There
was something very
Page 28:
poetic in the idea of a Spanish Convent bell. The inscription on ours in Spanish & Latin
was beautiful, too. “Santa Maria de la Pax, Ora pro Nobis.” (Saint Mary of Peace, pray
for us.) I was living in Shelburne when the bells were hung. I do not know whether or
not at that distance I might have been tempted to woo the Muse, if I had not received a
note from John Williams, warning me against any attempt of the kind, by saying that he
had a like idea’ “but lo! when the first sound came creeping forth from the belfry,” his
Pegasus had taken fright, & had not been seen since. Indeed never did bells send forth a
less musical sound, cracked & dismal as it was. I think that our bell, at least, was soon
superseded by a better one.
The school-house, built to the north of the church, was but a poor structure,- the
walls bulging before it was finished. At the dedication of the building, I think it was my
brother who gave a toast, that was considered by some to be rather incendiary: “The
new schoolhouse, May she follow in the footsteps of her illustrious forecessor, & become
a burning & shining light.
The church-music for many years after my recollection was entirely vocal.
Deacon Hitchcock found the key with his pitch-pipe, & gave it to the choir. I never
heard a violin in church.
Page 29:
till my summer of seventeen, when Susan, Samuel, & I spent a Sunday in Belchertown.
The tuning of the violin in that Orthodox church reminded us so much of the ball-room,
that Samuel said afterward that he “did not know but that it was the custom for the
minister to dance in the aisle.” At the age of fourteen I attended my first singing-school,
though I had sung for years. When we took our seats at the close of the school, I think
we entirely filled the very long double row of choir-seats. I should think that there
might have been more noise, than genuine music.
In 1843 or 1844, the first organ, a single parlor one,- was placed in the church. In
the autumn of ’45, a few weeks before Mr. Moor’s ordination, it was sold to the other
parish, & a church-organ was purchased for our own church, -the one lately superseded
by the present instrument. Charles Hawks of Wisdom was the organist for many years,
& Joseph Fuller for at least part of that time led the singing with his beautiful voice.
We decorated the church with much labor for two or three days, winding the
pillars, festooning the galleries, & hanging
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the like heavy wreaths from the chandelier to the corners of the ceiling, beside the other
decorations, & had our first Christmas Eve service in 1842, - George M. Rice officiating.
We were so tired with our work, that when we had finished, we declared tht we would
never do it again. The service was delightful, however, with the one great draw-back,
that our beloved young pastor, Mr. Parkhurst, was presented by what proved to be fatal
illness from being with us, that we reversed our decision, though I do not think so much
labor has ever been bestowed since that time.

When a new bell was purchased for our church, heavier, I think, than any former
one, several men attempted to ring it, but were unable to set it. Samuel exceeded in
doing this; and not being too proud to do anything real dishonorable in itself, & within
the power of a blind man, he continued for many years to ring the bell for the Sunday
services, & also the G.P.M. bell. One day when it was to be tolled for a funeral, he
wished to experiment in the morning whether it could be tolled in the belfry by tying a
rope to the tongue. The belfry was built with a very large window, as it were, on each of
the four sides, unglassed, but closed by a stationary blind. As these blinds appeared to
confine the sound of the bell, many of the slats had
Page 31:
been taken out. On this particular morning, Samuel had tied one end of a rope round
the tongue of the bell, & the other to a slat of the blind. In pulling on the rope it gave
way; & he was precipitated to the icy, slated roof, four feet below the floor of the belfry.
He thought that he lost hold of the window-sill, but this could hardly have been, as he
could in that case, have had no support in the steep, slippery roof. He called aloud for
help, thinking as he afterward said, that I should hear which I did not,- happily,
perhaps, for I am afraid that I should have been but a poor dependence. Luke Wright
did hear the cry; but at first did not see from what place it came. When he did see
Samuel’s peril, he ran to his assistance just in season to see him climbing in at the
window. In the afternoon he asked me to feel his hand. It was cold & clammy still from
the terrible shock.
While the brick schoolhouse stood, the hall was used for Lyceum-lectures, &c.
The stairs, as I think I have said, were break-neck, being perfectly dark, steep, &
winding. Mr. Pliny Arms introduced the speakers one winter at least, saying, “Ladies &
gentlemen, Capt. Hitchcock will exhibit, The Old Oaken Bucket; which meant that he
would sing that song. One evening when
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was to lecture, he announced him in his usual form, adding the question, “What’s your
subject, Gen’ral?” I’ll tell ‘im myself, growled the General somewhat (soto voce), but still
loud enough to be heard by those nearest him. When the General spoke of the
“prismum mobile, as he was quite in the habit of doing, he always gave the word mobile,
the pronunciation of the southern city. I recollect another of our lecturers speaking of
tobacco as “delicious snorshoo.” [?]
But very few of the older men of my father’s parish ever entered his doors. If he
wished to see them, he must visit them himself; though I think that several of these
men, who were called, attended church regularly. I do not think that I ever heard our
next-door neighbor, Col. Stebbins, speak. They were friendly, no doubt, & some of them
occasionally sent presents, I think, of meat or other provisions. Col. Hoyt was a very
agreeable neighbor. Mr. Consider Dickinson, “Uncle Sid”, -entertained us with his
Indian stories. Two of the four Williams-brothers, Dr. William Stoddard & Ephraim,
nicknamed Uncle Bob, called pretty often, especially the latter. Mr. E. Hinsdale
Williams, a graduate of Harvard, but sadly ignorant of his mother tongue & I should say
of all other languages, called now & then. These, with Mr. Pliny Arms, Mr. Orlando
Ware, & Col.

Page 33:
Wilson, are almost all whom I remember as calling. Perhaps this was not & at the
present day is not anything uncommon in.
[Odd Characters]
“Uncle Sid” was one of the oddities. When he had reached the age of eighty years,
& long, I think, after the death of his first wife, “Aunt Phily”, as she was called,- he
thought of taking to himself a mate. Accordingly he called on day on Miss Harding,- a
woman of mature years, who had once kept house for him,- & made his proposals,
telling her that he was going to mill, & would call for her answer on his return. It was in
the affirmative, & I think that they jogged on amicably together for his remaining twelve
years or more. As he had no relatives, to whom he cared to leave his quite large property
for a country-farmer, he made her sole heir; & by her will she founded the Dickinson
Academy. In the old burial ground stands a handsome marble slab, which, in addition
tot he usual epitaph on Mr. & Mrs. Field, the parents of Mr. D’s first wife, bears the
following remarkable inscription: “This stone was gratuitously erected by their son-inlaw, Consider Dickinson.” For years his answer to the question, “How do you do?” was
always, “To as to be crawling”. He was in the habit of rising at
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three o’clock in a summer morning to work in his garden. He never wore an overcoat,
even in the worst weather. [# bottom of page]
Mr. Joel Saxton was another of the oddities in his way;- a man of very good sense,
but entirely uncultivated. He did not profess to have any religious belief; but enjoyed
attending church, When we were hearing candidates, after some new person had
preached for one or two Sundays, Mr. S. would call on my fatherError! Bookmark not
defined., and say, Well, Dr., how do you like this man?” It was a teat to hear Mr. Lincoln
talk with him. My dear brother-in-law had taught school so long, that he was rather
precise in his language, & never seemed to realize that everyone else would not
understand the rather uncommon word he used as well as himself. One day when Mr.
Saxton had been describing the lofty airs of “Parson Ashley, his minister in his boyhood,
Mr. Lincoln said, “Mr. Saxton, if you should see Dr. Dewey, you would think he was Mr.
Ashley’s prototype, or rather post-type.”
Mr. Moors furnished me with an excellent story about Mr. Saxton. It was in a
time of great drought that Mr. Moors asked my father to offer the principal prayer
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in the afternoon-service, as he often did. As Mr. M. expressed it, “The Dr. prayed lustily
for rain,” & before the congregation reached their homes it had begun to rain. Mr. M.
met Mr. Saxton soon afterward in the street, who said to him, “I was glad you asked the
old Dr. to pray. I thought he’d fetch it.” This was the more remarkable, as I suppose Mr.
S. would not have allowed that he had any faith in the efficacy of prayer in general.
Little Mary Hawks was one of the notabilities of Deerfield,- very diminutive in
size, but very intelligent & full of energy. One of my early reminiscences, perhaps in
1823 or 1824, is of her presenting to the Cadets a handsome standard in the name of the
ladies of Deerfield. The ceremony took place in the common on July 4, I think. She was
not able to held the flag herself but made a little speech, which was responded to by
Capt. Williams 2d , I believe.

I remember her as she stood on her high foot-stool in the old church, at the head
of the female singers, her slender reed-like voice distinctly heard above the other voices
of the choir. One of her favorite songs was “I’d be a butterfly,”- much more
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appropriate to her, than to the lame hand organ man, whom I once heard singing, “I’d
be a butterfly born in a bower.” Being thirteen years younger than she was, it was a treat
to me to see her go up the steps to the new church in her little bonnet & feathers,-a
miniature woman.
Many & many a year afterward, wishing to make a home for herself & her father,
she took charge of the board-house in the old Academy, & had, I think, at one time
twenty in the family. She was a very decided character, & not averse to giving a little
advice. Once when she was at our house Mary Lincoln, then a little girl, did not quite
like the idea of setting the tea-table, as her mother wished her to do. Miss Mary
encouraged her to it it, adding, “It is a good plan to learn to do everything.” Luther then
about six or seven years old, said, “Miss Mary, is it a good plan to learn to swear?”
The poor little woman in middle-life or later, lost all her scanty property through
failure of memory from age, in the person, who had charge of it. She bore the loss of it &
her consequent dependence for a home on the kindness of friends in a truly Christian
manner.
Mrs. Bradley, mother of Mr. Joel Saxton by a first marriage, was a funny little old
women, who lived on a corner at
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the end of the old Academy Lane & spent most of her time in piecing patchwork bed
quilts, which she gave away. She gave me one & inquired of some one whether I “was
mad” because she sent it. When some woman in the village was very ill, Mrs. B. sent her
a quilt, thinking that she might be entertained by looking at it. “And don’t you think,”
said Mrs. Bradley, “the critter up & died!”
My mother once asked Mrs. B. to call at our house. “No,” she answered, “I don’t
want to go to no such place. Nobody wants to see my old profile.” Her sight returned
after the age of ninety, so that she could sew without glasses, & she had a few new teeth,
which were rather a trouble than a comfort.
Mrs. Deacon Arms, our next door neighbor, was a very bright old lady. She said
that her first offer was from a widower with three children, whom she refused. Next
came another widower with six children. She thought that if the number of children was
doing to double every time, it would to best to accept this suitor. She said, too, that he
wrote her a note, asking leave to lay his hat & gloves on her table, & that she did not say
him nay, because she never would find a pen for answering his note.
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There was a little peddler of sweet-herbs, catnip, &c. who used to cal on us now &
then. He said that all the cats were glad to see him. His name was Sam Duello, vulgarly
pronounced Dwelley. He was mildly insane, I think; -saying that his health was poor, &
that his physicians had ordered him to drink wine, take drives, see pictures, & I think,
agreeable company. A very pleasant prescription.

There were two demented tramps, too, who made us occasional calls;--“Old Joe,”
who could never be entrapped into saying “No.” The reason was said to be that he had
received that answer to a declaration of love. The other was Levi Hayden. I know
nothing of his former history; but having been in the habit of calling on us in Deerfield,
when he by mistake came to our door in Hingham, & discovered who we were, we were
obliged to take him in for the night. He was very cross & fractious until we perceived
that we must treat him as if he were sane. He had a beautifully packed trunk with him.
My mother, noticing how neatly each article was folded in paper, spoke of it, & added, “I
guess you have a mother or sister.” He answered, “Folks aint all alike. I always heard
that they were a rough set here on the seashore.” My delicate, gentle mother was very
much amused. We felt a little timid about him at night; but he was quiet,
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except that he got up to put the cat out of his room. The cholera visited Boston for the
first time that summer, & my mother was quite anxious about it. One of the first things
Hayden said when he came to the house was, I’m one of the neatest folks in the world.
There’s no cholera about me”; which was just what my mother had in her mind, as she
did not know where he might have been staying. He had intended to take the morning
stage to Plymouth, but as it was a pouring rain, my father & mother would not liet him
go. He was very pleasant, & brought out tow handsome, large, silk handkerchiefs,
saying, “If I give him these, don’t you think he’ll let me stay?” Of course my father
would not take them. So Susan & I hemmed & marked them for Hayden.
This was on Friday, & as the Plymouth coach did not pass through town again
until Monday, Samuel drove him five or six miles to meet it on Saturday morning. we
were very glad to be so relieved of our guest. We heard afterward that he had attended
church in Plymouth, & frightened two ladies.
There was a crazy Mrs. Bacon, too, when I was a child, who sometimes came
round. She was very quiet & orderly, unless something excited her. Then she would
give a scream louder than it
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would have seemed possible for any woman to give vent to. This she did once at our
house, when she asked to see my , but was told that he was in his study, & could not be
interrupted. I think she fell on her knees, with a mingling of a prayer & a most terrific
scream.
Gen. Barker was an interesting character, full of brightness & originality in his
conservation, when he was at his best, very low in his mind when at the other extreme.
He was in the habit of spending three or four months at a time with us. I think that it
must have been as a boarder, though being so young, I never heard. The remain of his
time he lived with his other niece. Mrs. Jerome Cushing as long as she remained in
Hingham, I think; after which he boarded at Mr. Martin Lincoln’s, where he died in the
autumn of 1828, leaving his little personal property of about L400 equally to my
mother’s & Mrs. Cushing’s children. He remitted the remainder of my father’s debt to
him for purchase money on the house in Deerfield. This debt of 300 my father would
have paid some years before, but, as the General preferred to let it stand, my father put
it into the hands of a merchant in his parish, & lost it all by the failure of the man.

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When the General came to us, he always thought for a while that we behaved
better than Mrs. Cushing’s children, but changed his mind before long. I presume that
he went through the same process after his return to Mrs. C. [repitition]He almost
always began the morning by feeling nervous & miserably, improving as the day went
on, & ending as a full-fledged beau in the evening among the young ladies,
notwithstanding his fifty years & more. A conundrum was made in Hingham, running
this:--“Why is the only beau in Hingham like a mastiff. Because he is a General Barker.”
When my father went on his exchanges, he was gone over two nights, as he was
principled against driving on Sunday, even the short distance of ten miles, - his nearest
exchange. It happened, however, that once while the General was with us, it was
necessary for my father to start for Boston early on Monday morning. This made it
unavoidable that he should return from his exchange on Sunday. As he would not drive
before sunset, the family had retired, & the house was almost closed when he reached
home. He knew, however, that he could raise a back window in the General’s room on
the [?] floor. Now it happened that the
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General had three hundred dollars, I think, in his trunk by the window, & naturally
thought, when he heard a man entering in that way, that he was about to be robbed.
“Wh- who’sthat?” he called; but my father was so much amused by his evident terror,
that he was unable to speak for some little time. The General said afterward that if he
had had a pistol he should certainly have fired.
*Accidentally omitted at the bottom of page 6.) little dog, that barked so furiously
when Samuel tried to pat it, that we laughed now & then through the service in thinking
of it. We knew very well that we had been naughty & as the bear did not appear, our
faith in him was very much shaken.
As this little book is somewhat on the plan of a rosey-quilt, with little regard in
general to index, I will mention here Samuel’s reply to a woman who came to him in
emergency of some kind, telling him that she had heard of him as “a benevolent
individual.” He told he(r) that he thought is must be a mistake. She probably did
mistake him for his father, who was, of course, much more widely known, & moreover
was more easily imposed upon by tales of wo[e]. We were victims in several cases. My
father came in my room one day
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very much moved by the story of a woman down stairs, who said that she was a bookagent, that she had been overturned by a boy in driving, had broken her collar-bone, &
lost all her money, except a small sum, that she had kept in her pocket for immediate
expenses. She was anxious to return to Boston, if she could get the necessary four or
five dollars. My mother & I were doubtful about her, However we gave her one dollar,-all we could spare, & my father took his to Mr. Moors, who let her have four dollars on
her pledge of a silk dress, which he was to find a certain place in Greenfield.
Accordingly he drove to G., & found the dress as promised,--a neat plaid silk prettily
made; & with it a very moving? note from the owner, saying that the dress was the gift of
one, who had stood to her in the place of her God;- that the idol had been broken, as all

idols must be, &c. No doubt she hoped that Mr. Moors, after this appeal would not have
the heart to take the dress; but he was not the man to be caught upon in this way.
He brought the dress home, and amused himself & as by saying that Mrs. Moors & I
could take turns in wearing it. However, we never had that pleasure, for the woman
appeared at our house a day or two afterward, saying nothing
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about the money, but inquiring about some opportunity for doing light work. She went
to Mr. Moors, & redeemed the dress by paying the four dollars. So ended that episode. I
could mention other similar ones, if it were worthwhile.
I will mention one more, somewhat similar, though involving no loss of money.
One terribly sultry morning a handsomely dressed woman called, who introduced
herself as coming from Texas to procure subscribers for a volume of her own lectures,
which she proposed publishing. She asked for my father’s name only, if he felt unable to
pay the subscription price of two dollars, I think. She had in fact a very long list of
names, some of them eminent, or to all appearances genuine autographs. She was very
airy in her manners & conversation, said that there was no atmosphere that morning; &
on my father’s answering to her inquiry for his health that he was as well as he could be
on such a morning, she said, “You are supportable.” She was so much delighted with the
idea of reading her lectures to my father, that she kissed me; but the lectures never
came. Neither did those of one or two others, who had paid the money. Some of our
friends in Dorchester had a like experience with her. When
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I was visiting Dr. Nichols’ in Portland a year or two afterward. I think, I was very sure
that I heard her voice in his study one morning, but had no opportunity to warn him
against her. I think, however, that he did not subscribe.
Of our most distinguished guests,- the first whom I remember, though Dr.
Channing has been a visitor at the house before, was Ralph Waldo Emerson. He was not
then distinguished, as he had but just entered in his professional life, it being in the
summer of 1827 that he spent a week with us. He was very gentle & quiet, and there is
nothing really worth noting in my reminiscences of him at that time. I was a shy girl of
fifteen.
1851 [?] Charles Sumner spent a few hours at the house where his first election as
U.S. Senator was pending before our Legislature. He said that he had no desire for
political life, or that he should be glad to be quietly let down to earth again. It was
necessary to take several ballots before his diction was carried. While he was with us a
telegram was brought him of the latest ballot, on which he remarked very quietly, “Then
I have fallen after many [?]
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[?] since the last ballot.” He told us some amusing incidents of the campaign, one of
which was that, after he had spoken in some town, a man had said to him that he did
not care what platform he (Mr. S.) laid down for himself, if he would promise not to
stand on it in case of his election. From the time of his visit as long as Mr. S. was able to
remain in the Senate, he sent my father from time to time congressional documents
until the death of the latter.

Horace Greeley spent a night in Samuel’s part? the house. Whether is was his
“natural habitude,” or whether the zero weather, after a mild season in New York, was
too much for his equanimity, he certainly was not in a genial frame of mine. He said
that the weather could not be praised. His face, eyes, hair, & clothing being very nearly
of a uniform whitish hue, he might have represented a human icicle. He came into our
room to warm his feet by the open fire. I had a very severe cold, which he evidently
thought was entirely unnecessary. He did not hesitate to say that it was nonsense, or
something of the kind, that I should want the doors fastened, as least the many back
ones, when I was to be left
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alone in the house for the evenings. Mrs. Greeley, “he said, “stays in the house alone, &
she doesn’t want the doors fastened. Everybody knows there’s nothing to steal”. The
poor man slept in the coldest room in the house, where there was no possibility of a fire.
He wanted a pail of cold water for his bath, & when he came down to breakfast his
benumbed fingers had made it impossible for him to button his waistcoat.
James G. Birney, afterward Anti-slavery candidate for the presidency, was a
delightful guest. Strongly Anti-slavery as he was, I think he was a southerner by birth, &
his manner had all the charm of old-time elegance and courtliness. He spent a night at
the house in 1836 or 1837, sitting up with my father until midnight, & by his
conversation & the books, that he sent, or left, converting him to faith in immediate
abolition.
We had a multitude of other most interesting, agreeable, & welcome guests,
among whom may be mentioned Judge & Mrs. Howe, Judge & Mrs. Lyman. Mr. & Mrs.
Edward B. Hall, his sister, Miss Mary, the English people, Dr. Wells of Brattleboro & his
daughter Hannah. In later years Rev. George F.
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Simmons of Springfield & Rufus Ellis of Northampton were among the most welcome.
Dr. Sprague of Albany, an “Orthodox” clergyman, came occasionally for years, & made
himself agreeable. He was a great collector of autographs, & on one of his visits, about
the year 1829, I think, took away those of forty different people. He brought out &
looked over many old letters’ & I remember how much amused we were by stumbling on
a letter from one of my father’s classmates, who had just heard of his engagement, &
hesitated about believing the rumor. He began by saying something of this kind: “I am
now about to mention a subject, that should make that long face of yours a yard longer;”
& ended by saying, “If it is true, how are the mighty fallen!”
I must not omit mentioning a delightful call from Rev. Henry Giles, a dwarf &
fearfully deformed in figure, but with a fine countenance, full of intellectual fire. I have
no distinct recollection of his conversation, except that it was most delightful. The
subject was in part, I think, a journey through magnificent scenery, of which he gave a
glorious description. Whatever the subject might have been, I remember making the
basis of my next Sunday’s

Page 49:
conversation with my class; & I never allowed myself to give them mere entertainment,
or secular instruction. I count the opportunities I have had for intercourse with these
choice spirits as among the richest blessings of a favored life.
Later years, through the Summer School especially, have brought me into
communication with many others, whom it is a privilege to have met; but these are so
fresh in the memory of the younger members of the family, that I shall not enumerate
them here.
I might have mentioned in the proper place the multitude of clergymen, who
were at least occasional callers at the house, some of them very interesting; the two Drs.
Henry Ware, Rev. William Ware & John F. W., Dr. Hall, Dr. Parkman, Mr. Colman, Mr.
Brooks, Dr. Strong, rector of the Episcopal church in Greenfield,- a man, whom it was a
pleasure to meet, even in the street. Our dear young minister, Daniel B. Parkhurst,
during his few months in Deerfield, was a more than daily visitor; & though only twentythree years old, his conversation was one of the richest treats I ever enjoyed. Among our
candidates, Dexter Clapp
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& George W. Packard were charming in their different ways. The latter died a few weeks
after leaving Deerfield. I think I once counted nearly two hundred Unitarian clergymen,
whom I had seen at our own house, beside the many, whom I had met elsewhere. I have
met too, a large number of the clergy of other denominations, especially Episcopalians,
including seven or eight, who were bishops at the time, of have made so since. Dr. Hale
& Rev. John Heywood in these later years stand out among our delightful visitors among
Unitarian ministers.
To go back to our early days, when Samuel was a very little boy, he expressed his
idea of poverty & riches in a few words. He had asked his mother to buy him something,
that she was obliged to deny him, giving as a reason that she was poor. “O! no,” he said,
“you’re not poor. You have a few little girls, & a few little boys, & a few marigold-seeds
out in the front yard.
His bed stood by the side of his mother’s, & he depended in getting into her bed
when his father rose in the morning. Once when this happened later than usual, I
suppose, Samuel said, “It’s time for one body to get up”.
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I have heard that when Susan made her first visit to me, I being a few hours old,
she brought me a newspaper to read, & invited me to dance a minuet. Of course she was
obliged to give up her place in her mother’s bed to me; & as she lay in her cradle, she
was heard singing in her fashion, “Poor little Suns lies in the old books.”
When she was a little thing her father & mother took her to Wapping, where she
saw a flock of geese by the wayside, & exclaimed, “O Ma! see those winter squashes!”
She had been in the habit of seeing crook-necked squashes, & thought that the geese
must belong to the same family.
I think I have not mentioned the many happy hours we used to spend with our
dolls in the great “garret”, with its six Domer-windows. Susan took the north side, & I
the south. We had our pretty dolls & dainty little mahogany bedsteads, for which we
made the sheets & little patchwork quilts ourselves. We each had a window seat for a

chamber, & the floor for other rooms. We made cornstalk chairs, very fragile, but pretty,
& little toilet-tables in imitation of my mothers. (By some means we got possession of
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fragments looking-glass, which we framed with the imitation gold-thread bordering of
muslin. It seemed quite a journey for our dolls to visit across the garret. Sometimes we
wrote letters for them under or over very romantic names. We thought it a pity that
Samuel should not share our enjoyment, & set him up accordingly on the west side with
a doll, but soon discovered her hanging by the neck from the handle of a large chest.
Our Saturday evenings were among the happiest hours of the week. “The sabbath
was considered as beginning at sunset. Then all work was put away, & the family
gathered with their books; more frequently we children with our slates or paper &
pencils. Our parents always encouraged our juvenile attempts at composition, whether
in prose, or what we were pleased to call poetry, & never made game of their crude
results.
When we moved to Hingham in 1829, my father wished it to be understood that
we did not wish to receive calls on Saturday evening; so it was a rare thing that anyone
called, but we often had quite a circle of friends or acquaintance in Sunday evening.
I well remember the shock I experienced on my first visit in Boston
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from seeing Mrs. Codsman & her daughters take their swing on Saturday evening. I
think it was the only time, when I saw the daughters employ their hands in that way. I
presume that putting out their swing may have been one of their charities. I daresay that
I shocked them even more by taking my work on Sunday evening; but I discussed &
explained my mistake very soon. Afterwards Mrs. Rice gave me another shock by taking
her work on the afternoon of Fast-Day. We had always kept it even more strictly then
Sunday, inasmuch as, beside attending church all day, we had no dinner but
doughnuts,- symballs, we called them, instead of the full dinner, provided on Sunday,
partly in account of the distant parishioners, who must be invited in. [pg. 50]
Among the most frequent of these guests were a venerable-looking pair, -- Mr. &
Mrs. Samuel Smith from “on the mountain. He said one day, “The first time I saw her
she was in her cradle.” Another was a very lugubrious woman, Mrs. Frederic Boyden,
who came from Mill River, where I suppose she was surrounded by the Orthodox, “so
called,” who worried her very much about her spiritPage 54:
ual condition, & I dare say, her heresy in attending on my father’s preaching. I think he
always cheered her somewhat for the time being.
Since the brick church was built in 1824 a furnace was put into the cellar; I do not
know of what construction, for it was not until many years after that the modern furnace
came into use in private houses, at least. The heat was intended to be brought up to the
auditorium by means of two very large pipes, open at the top, places on either side of the
broad aisle, one being directly in front of “the ministers’ pew,” where we sat. These
pipes were called tin deacons. An accident befell the flue of the chimney, with which the
furnace connected, so that it never could be used. If any draught passed through the

pipes, it was only the cold, damp air of the cellar, & the church remained for many years
without any artificial warmth. In connection with this, we had an amusing illustration
of the power of the imagination as affecting the body. A Mr. & Mrs. Hanson drove from
Shelburne one winter Sunday snowing to attend church. On our return at noon my
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mother asked Mrs. H. if she had not been cold. “O no,” she answered. “That pipe in
front of me kept me very comfortable.”
Sally Marsh, who must have lived with us a year or two when I was growing up,
was a remarkable character. She might well have passed for the original Deborah Lenox
in Miss Sedgwick’s “Redwood,” which appeared about that time. Her conversation was
a strange mingling of the yankee vernacular & its pronunciation with very elegant
expressions. She combined a delicate complexion & features with a masculine voice &
manner. She was thirty years old, or more, had acted as housekeeper, & felt herself on a
par with the aristocracy of the little town of Heath, from which she came. As she said to
me on day, in speaking of a departed silk gown, “That was when I went round with the
gentry.” Still she occupied her inferior position apparently without any hesitation or
regret. She was the perception of neatness, & this without the ill-temper that sometimes
accompanies neatness & love of order, from dislike of having things
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disturbed. She was invaluable to my mother in my grandmother’s very last illness, as
my mother could give up everything down stairs to Sally, & devote herself to nursing
knowing that everything would go on as well, as if she herself were around.
Once when the stage was to have taken a passenger, but passed the house without
stopping, Sally went out, called it back, then mounted the steps, & took a look at the
passengers, who as she said, “looked rather disconsolate.”
She waited on the table, but instead of standing in the dining room, she was
allowed to sit in an entry close by. Once when Mrs. Judge Lyman was dining with us, a
question happening to come up, which none of us could answer, we were surprised by
hearing Sally’s voice from the entry, giving the desired information. Luckily Mrs.
Lyman was a person fully to appreciated & be amused by the situation.
Whenever my father knew that a clergyman of whatever denomination was to
spend Sunday in town, he was in the habit of inviting him to preach. It hapPage 57:
pened one of these occasions that the person, a Baptist minister, I think, was a most
peculiar-looking individual. He was tall, extremely lank, his spare figure made even
more apparent by a gown of Canton crape, which clung closely round him, & close
sleeves instead of the large bishop-sleeves, worn by the city-clergy. His hair standing
out in every direction gave him a wild appearance. Sally said he looked “like some kind
a creature, that came out of some kind of cave.” His sermon, too, was very remarkable.
I well remember the manner, in which he uttered the opening sentence:--“The
schoolmen have told us many frightful stories of the Being who made us.” In the course
of the sermon he said, “Suppose a scroll should come down, made out in Heaven’s
counting-room, with the names of those who were to be saved on one side, & or those,
who were to be damned in the other, there would be con-sid-er-able excitement, even in

Deerfield. Hands that had never done [done] anything more laborious, than sweeping
the keys of the pianoforte, would be engaged in trying to get a
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copy.” As there was but one piano in town beside our own, thought he could hardly have
known it, this had rather a personal sound.
Ellen Roberts filled an important place in the household for many years. My mother
took her from an Irish family in Boston when she was eight years old, -- a year older
than Susan, & she remained with us until she was eighteen. My mother used to say that
she could neither live with nor without her. She had very great capability, but was
hopelessly untidy, & had a temper, that at times was really frightful, when white circles
would appear round her eyes, & she would not eat for a day perhaps. But she was most
loyal, & very fond of us. On her first visit to her friends in Boston, when she might have
been about fourteen years old, she lay awake, as she told us, all the first night crying for
fear that the family might persuade her to stay with them. Her sister Honora, who
seemed to be a gushing young lady, had written her beforehand, that when she came
they would “have filial affection & conjugal felicity.”
We girls should probably have had more training in some branches of housework,
if it had not been that as soon as
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as we appeared the kitchen, Ellen’s head was literally turned as her face was round
behind her, & her work amounted to very little as long as we stayed.
In the afternoon or evening when her work was done, she was allowed to join in
our plays, & she never took advantage of this privilege by any undue freedom. Her
manners were very good, & her use of language almost as correct as our own. She made
a lapse, however, on one occasion, when she was sent by my father to ask Mr. Pliny
Arms to call on him, as he wished to consult him on a point of law. Ellen made the slight
mistake of saying that my father wished to insult Mr. Arms.
The point on which my father wanted information being connected with a rather
remarkable incident, I may as well describe it here. Couples sometimes came to the
house to be married by my father. On this particular morning, we saw a stout elderly
woman ushering a very meek-looking white haired man in at the gate. When they were
seated she announced their errand, which was that they wished to be married. My
father asked for their certificate
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of published, but found that they had none. Accordingly he sent for Mr. Arms, a lawyer,
that he might learn to what penalty he should become liable by marrying the pair. I
think it was a fine of five dollars. He declined to perform the service. The woman was
indignant; but the old man took it very calmly. He probably had a happy escape, as we
learned afterward that they were never married.
As I have said, Ellen was very capable. She would kill as well as dress a chicken.
In those days when icehouses were almost unknown, it was customary to hang meat, or
anything else, that needed to be kept cool, down in the well. One day Ellen had the
misfortune to drop a piece of meat into the well. Without telling any one, she went

down into the well, & brought it up. She could cut & make her own gowns, too. One
winter we made ourselves quilted bonnets. Susan’s and mine were of blue cambric,
trimmed with swan’s down. Ellen’s was of some dark silk, trimmed with foxskin. The
young men or boys teased her so much about her fur, that the poor girl did not take
much comfort with her bonnet.
The last year or two that she was with us,
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she was my mother’s only “help.” I think she wrote once, expressing regret for any
trouble, that she had given my mother. We lost sight of her after that time, except that
my mother once met her in the street in Boston, & asked her where she lived. “I don’t
live anywhere,” she answered. “I’m married.”
“Little John Williams,” now bishop of Connecticut, remembers some of these
domestics of ours very well. As neither he nor Samuel had any brother, he was a very
frequent playmate of ours, having the freedom of the house about as much as ourselves.
My first recollection of him is his being brought to the house by his mother, & his
repeating “How doth the little busy bee,” as he stood in a chair. I think he remembers
one of our favorite amusements, which was pulling the plugs out of Col. Stebbins
waterpipes, that we might see the water sprout up. Those wooden pipes passed through
our land, lying very conveniently for us, on the surface of the ground. We never thought
of doing any harm, until we were frightened one day by seeing Rowland Stebbins, the
Col.’s deaf & dumb son gesticulating at us over the fence.
In winter Samuel & John used to take the body off our sleigh harness the horse
on the remaining runners, & stills,[?]
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drive up a very steep hill at the back of “the lot”; then unharness the horse, lead him
down the hill, walk up, & coast down. This performance they would repeat as many
times as it pleased them.
Many years afterward one winter, when our family had broken up, my father,
mother, & I being in Shelburne, John & Samuel had a fine time keeping Bachelor’s Hall
in our dining room. They lived in a most fee & easy way, keeping a basket of apples
under the bed, & troubling themselves very little about tidiness. I came in from
Shelburne for a few weeks’ board with the Wilsons in the Academy, where Mr. Lincoln &
Susan were boarding. In the course of those weeks Samuel & John gave an evening
party, inviting about forty people, some of whom were much puzzled to know where
Bachelor’s Hall, from which the invitation were issued, might be. Mrs. Williams’s
(John’s motherError! Bookmark not defined.) Mary Wilson, & I went to make things
decent in their living room. Before we could sweep the carpet, it was necessary to bring
in snow to lay the dust. They had an open fire, & at no ashes had been taken up, the pile
had reached a great height, so that at last bands would roll out on the floor. Part of the
evening’s entertainment was going out to look at the ashes. The
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day after the party, they took up sixteen great grain shovel-fulls of ashes. The parlor was
opened for the occasion, & brilliantly lighted, as we thought my grandmother’s four tall
plated candlesticks with candles being set in front of the mantel-mirror. The young

ladies looked remarkably well, & the occasion passed off finely. The only refreshment
furnished was nuts, raisins, & water:--“a feast of raisins, & a flow of water,” as John said.
The house looked as might have been expected when we returned from
Shelburne. There seemed to be scarcely a clean dish, though the bachelors had taken
their meals out.
Our life in Shelburne was very comfortable. We had a large, sunny parlor, the
“spare room,” with a bright open fire; my father & mother a bedroom adjoining, & I the
“spare chamber” over the parlor. It has so much sun, that it was very comfortable for a
room, where, I suppose, there had never been a fire. I should probably think now that I
was nearly frozen; but then it seemed really comfortable. There was a good public
library, & we had plenty of books, & plenty of time for reading. The rest was delightful
after a very hard autumn of illness in the family, & insufficient help.
Everything was very primitive. We went out to tea one
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afternoon at half past, I think, & returned him by half past 4. John Williams’ mother
came out, & spent a week with us. She & I went to a ball soon after sunset in March.
Knowing that this would probably be considered a very wrong thing by the other
parishes, as a kind of peace offering, I attended their church the next Sunday. It was a
warm day for the season, but I did not dare to leave off my wadded pelisse. The
churchError! Bookmark not defined. was heated from below, & while we spent the
short intermission in the church, I, sitting with my back near the stovepipe, heard some
one below replenishing the fire, which I think I heard rushing up the pipe. After that
minute the choir was singing,
“But, O! their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so.
On slippery rocks I see them stand,
Any fiery billows roll below.”
On another occasion when I attended that church, the choir was led by a group
singing-master, whose grand aim & purpose seemed to be to show himself off. The
choir seats ever amicably arranged for carrying out this object, being placed in either
side of the platform on which the pulpit stood. As the floor sloped down from the back
of the church to the
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pulpit, he was a conspicuous object to all the congregation. He stood in the centre of the
platform, the women of the choir being seated on one hand, the men on the other. In
one of the tunes there was a fugue, which gave him an opportunity for bowing low to the
women at the proper time, then whirling round with agility; that would have credit to a
dancing-master, to bow to the men. When he sang the lines,
“O glorious hour! O, blessed abode!
I shall be near & like my God.”
with all his airs & flourishes, it seemed absolutely profane. I was vexed with myself for
looking at him; but my eyes seemed to be irresistibly attracted to him. I used to imitate
him to the best of my ability for some time afterward, omitting the sacred words, &
singing, only the figure.

On one of my visits in Hingham, I attended church on one of the hottest days, I
have ever known, when it seemed to be almost all we could do to get through the service.
Mr. Dall preached, & read George Herbert’s hymn, beginning
“Sweet day, so calm, so cool, so bright.”
As I was not then familiar with the hymn, & Mr. D had exhibited the word pure for cool,
I did not notice the absurdity of the
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thing, until the chorister, who was too much of away to lose such an opportunity, having
given himself a solo on that line, brought out the unlucky word on three notes, with the
full force of his powerful voice. Of course it was disrespectful to the place & the
clergyman, who had unfortunately laid himself open to such an occurrence, as it was but
following the words of the book.
I might have mentioned in the proper place an interesting visit from a Greek,
Chritophous Plato Castinis by name, who came to this country with Dr. Howe, I think.
He called one afternoon, accompanied by his dog, Minos. He was delighted that we had
just seen his marriage in the paper. My mother invited him & his bride, when he had
left at the hotel, to take tea with us. They came, & he was beaming with pleasure to be at
a private table, & to bask in the warmth of our open fire. He gave a very interesting
lecture in the evening, describing the war between the Greeks & Turks, in which Lord
Byron fought. He exhibited what he said was Lord Byron’s sword, in an elegant silver
scabbard, embossed with the crescent, though Lord B. fought for the Greeks. Mr.
Castanis, who was very dark, wore the capote & camise, that is, a fur cap & a white shirt,
measuring as he said, twenty yards round the bottom, & tapering up to
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the waist, like the covering of an umbrella. This was a great puzzle he said, to American
laundrettes, who sometimes came to him to inquire how it should be ironed. He quoted
Byron’s lines,
“O! who is so brave the dark Suliote,
With his snowy camise & his shaggy capote.”
He wore a very rich crimson silk mantle, with a deep border of gold thread, passed over
one shoulder & round the waist, as a sash. He danced a Greek war-dance, & sang the
war-song.
The dear old house has had two narrow escapes from destruction by fire in the
last sixty years. After we left it in Sept., 1829, it stood empty through the winter; but in
the following spring, I think, it was let to two very agreeable families; one of which
seemed to have arranged everything favorably for setting the north side of the house on
fire. For many years before we left, a chamber over the kitchen had been tempered by
the pipe of the kitchen-stove passing through the floor, & entering the chimney near the
top of the room. When we moved to Hingham, we took the stove with the pipe, leaving
an opening into the chimney, where the pipe had passed through.
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This the family had stopped by pasting paper over it, & had filled a shelf below it with
pamphlets & papers, set a bed under it. One day a member of the other family, smelling
the fire, after looking through the rooms on the south side of the house, opened the door

into this north room, & found the fire not blazing, but creeping over the bed. It was in
the winter of 1835-6, when the winter had set in suddenly with the springs low. A
bucket was let down into the well several times, but without bringing up any water to
speak of. There was no fire-engine, for fires in Deerfield were almost unheard of then.
The fire was extinguished at last, but on side of the room was charred when we returned
in the following spring.
The second time was where Samuel & his family occupied the north side of the
house, & the Saxton family the south. Mrs. Tirzah Williams had the south front
chamber. On this particular day she had gone out to spend the day, leaving a large fire
in her airtight stove & a number of cotton articles hanging near to air. Miss Saxton
discovered the fire in the afternoon, when it had probably been burning for considerable
time. She called to Sister Sarah that there were all on fire. My brother went into the
attic and
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“found the smoke so thick that it seemed as if it might be cut.” Mr. Sheldon was soon on
hand, as he was sent to be in case of need, giving orders as to what should be done. He
said afterward that he “would not have given a red continental for the house,” when he
first saw it, with smoke pouring out from under the eaves. The very handsome panelled
woodwork, that made one side of Mrs. Williams’ chamber, was destroyed; but then was
little or no other damage done, except by water. An insurance officer said that if there
had been one fire engine, the house would probably have gone in the time required for
getting the engine into operation.
Until into the forties two noble elms, “old patrician trees,” stood side by side to
the north of the manse. The remaining one was mentioned in Boston Transcript not
long ago as one of the largest elms in the State. The companion tree had become so
weak, that large limbs sometimes fell on the sidewalk from being soaked with rain. My
mother & I plead for its life, until we realized that the danger to passers by was too great
to be risked longer. Very sad was the crash, that laid its “leafy honors” low. The little
man with an axe seemed so small in comparison with that noble structure, the growth of
nearly or quite ninety
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years! I could not help having a little superstitious feeling, too. These two trees had so
long spread their protecting arms over the homestead, that they seemed, as it were, to
represent the dear father & mother, who “kept watch & ward” over the little world
within; but the removal of the precious human life did not follow for a number of years.
When my sister & I were growing up, my father set out a house [?] for us in the
south-eastern corner of the south yard. It was oval in form, the trees being young elms
& the cornel, with its large white blossoms, cinnamon rose bushes being interspersed
with these. It was very pretty for some years; but during our first residence in Hingham
some one cut it down. I dare say that it had become badly overgrown, as it had begun to
before we left. Much to our regret, too, we found that at least one beautiful drooping
limb had been trimmed from one of the large elms.
My father was very fond of wild flowers, as he was of all the beauties of nature, &
tried with varied success to cultivate several different species. The azalea & raspberry
rose flourished finely, growing into very large bushes. The orchids did not thrive & the

mountain laurel absolutely refused to live. The flower borders from the front-door to
the gate were too shady to do very well;
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but at one time we had about the house eleven different kinds of roses including a
monthly? rose in the house. Among them were the cinnamon, blushing white,
Burgundy, Scotch or white wreath, purple velvet, & sweet bier.
I may possibly had mentioned that soon after leasing the house, my father
terraced the north yard, making two flights of grass steps, in which Mr. Reed says that
he was assisted by Mr. R.’s father, leading down to the low ground, in which he made a
fishpond, fed from a ditch, that must have brought water from the mountain. In my
early childhood I remembered that our guests were sometimes entertained by going
down to the pond to feed the fish with bread-crumbs. In the course of years the pond
became unsightly, & probably unwholesome for want of proper drainage, I suppose; &
my father, when quite beyond the age of seventy years, undertook to fill it himself. He
accomplished this by toiling down & up the steep banks, or broken steps, carrying, I
think, seventy or more large basketfuls of heavy earth.
When I was young, I once had a root of the sidesadall- flower, (Saracenia,) given
me, which I had sat out near the fishpond, as it likes a moist soil. Even after my father
became partially blind,
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he preferred mowing his yards with his own hand, rather than leaving his scattered
flowers to the tender mercies of a hired laborer. At the time of which I am writing,
however, he had become totally blind, & a hired man was mowing the ground. I sent a
messenger, asking him not to cut down my sidesaddle flower; but it was too late, & I
received word that “Miss Mary would never ride in her sidesaddle again.”
One morning when I was a very little girl my mother came to me, & told m to
guess what was lying in front of the parlor-fire. I wisely guessed that it was a bear; but
when I went down, found a very pretty gray & white kitten lying on the hearth. It had
followed my mother’s young servant-girl so far on her walk from Greenfield the night
before, that she had thought best to take it up, bring it home. It lived till I think I was
thirteen years old, & grew to be one of the largest cats I have ever seen. We named it
Rosetta, though it should have had a masculine name. This was my cat. Some years
afterward, my sister had a pretty gray & white kitten, which we named Serena. My
father then had a student in Divinity, who boarded in the family. He disliked cats, &, I
think was really afraid

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of them. One day hearing an uncommon noise in the hall, he (Mr. Williams,) opened his
door, & asked the cause. My little brother answered that he was “only playing with little
Serena.” “I wish you would be a little serener yourself,” said Mr. Williams. About this
time some “benevolent individual” probably dropped a small kitten at our door. She
made her presence known in the small hours by violent mewings. She was brought in, &
soon domesticated. She was not pretty, being a dark gray, streaked with black; but she

was very playful & fascinating. We named her Stella, & assigned her to my brother. One
day we dressed her in a gown & cap, belonging to one of our dolls, & took her into Mr.
Williams’ room. She looked very unhappy, standing on her hind legs, with her tail
trailing, it were, behind her dress; & Mr. Williams was not much more pleased than she.
Before very long, the higher power, thinking there was a superfluity of cats, took
advantage of a day when we children were out of the way, to have Stella disposed of,
much to our sorrow when we found it out. Soon after this my old cat disappeared, & was
never again seen by us, having probably come to either a natural, or violent end. I gave
vent to my feelings in
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some lines, most of which I remember, as I rarely do anything that I have written will
give what I can recall of this childish effusion.
Yes, poor Grimalkin, thou hast left the earth;The scene of all thy gaiety & mirth;The scene of all thy viper? exploits, too,
Which rats & mice have long had cause to rue
Oft have I seen thee sit demure & sage,
In all the received dignity of age,
Upon the fishpond’s green & grassy brink,
To watch the sportive fished rise & sink.
Oft have I
And gazed upon thy face all seamed with scars,The glorious marks of long-remembered wars.
And long shall kittens, warmed by martial fire,
To emulate thy warlike deeds aspire;
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And gray-haired cats to future ages tell
The praise which thou hast-long discovered so well.
I think that I must have lost a verse preceding the last, as the connection seems
imperfect.
Serena apparently mourned herself to death for the loss of her companions. She
was ill for a few days, & then died. The first record in a journal, begun when I was
thirteen years old, was that in the day “our dear little Serena departed this life.” That
journal was kept with few interruptions for thirty four years, & would probably have
continued for many years longer, if a partial failure of my eyes had not prevented. Years
afterward I burned this journal,- five thousand pages, or more. I have since rather
regretted that I made so wholesale destruction, reading comparatively little of the
manuscript. I do not think it would have harmed anyone, unless it were myself; & it
contained not only domestic history, but records of the many public events, I think, in

which I was much interested, as well remarks on books, &c. It was a kind of safety valve
for my feelings, as I went on in, through for some of the earliest years it was
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only a bare records of facts. I know that there were no eyes in the family to be spared
for the reading of so much manuscript, even if there were the inclination; & insignificant
as I am, with the modern rage for publishing everything old, I feared lest it might
possibly fall into the hands of one of those unscrupulous people, who make public the
most private annals, without regard to the intentions of the writer, or the fitness for the
publicity.
I was obliged, as it were, in self-discipline to take an early interest in politics, as
my father, who always took a great interest in the state of the country, wished to hear
the papers. The President’s Message was at first an annual weariness to me; but became
by request less & less so. The first Presidential election, in which I took any interest, was
that of Jackson, when I was sixteen years old; & that was in consequence of hearing
Judge Howe of Northampton say that, if Jackson should be elected, he “should feel
constantly as if we were a powder-magazine.” I was from my earliest childhood
indoctrinated in Anti-Slavery principles. An article in the North American by Alexander
Everett, I think, brother of Edward Everett, on the injustice & fraud, committed by our
Government against the Cherokees, enlisted me in the case of the Indians by the time
when I was twenty or
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younger; & not long after that an editorial in the Christian Register against capital
punishment, when Professor Sidney Willard had charge of the paper, gave me a lifelong
interest in that subject. This was strengthened by reading Dymonds’s Essays on the
abolition of capital punishment in England for minor crimes, & the consequent
diminution of those very crimes, is such they should be called.
I took a lively interest in the temperance cause, and peace-principles, with
abhorrence of war were very early instilled into me. Out of these early convictions have
naturally grown a deep interest in the subjects of arbitration & reform in prison
discipline & the oversight of convicts after their release. Alas! that I can do so little in
aid of these great causes, & in speeding the time, when nations, Christian in name, will
become so in spirit & in truth! I confidently expect that good time; though it may be yet
in the far-distant future. At present the little boy of the story might truly look in vain for
Christendom on the map; though the efforts for reform are many & great.
I might say here that notwithstanding the sufferings of my native town from the
bloody attacks of the InPage 78:
dians, Cooper’s novels, which were coming out in my girlhood, had invested the Indian
character with such a glamour, as to throw those early annals into the background in my
mind; but it needed on idealizing or romance to be alive to the wrongs the natives had
received, & were continuing to suffer from their white invaders.
Many years later, in 1849, our peaceful village was quite excited over the arrival
of a company of pretended Indians. One of them, the leader, a tall copper-coloured
man, with short black hair, called on my father, & introduced himself as a Caushugance,

one of the Ojibeway tribe of Indians, who proposed to give a temperance lecture the next
evening at our church. Accordingly he came in on Sunday evening, bringing a little
woman, whom he introduced as his wife. She was dressed in a white cambric gown,
with green moccasins, & a coronet of feathers in her head in place of a bonnet. I should
have been glad to take her to our pew in the gallery; but she marched in below, & took a
conspicuous seat in front of the whole congregation. There I had the honor of sitting
between her & two supposed Indian men. Another stood in the aisle close by, & fitly
represented on of
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Cooper’s ideal Indians. He was tall & stately, wearing a black ostrich feather on his
head, & standing with his arms folded across his breast, apparently in utter indifference
to everything around him. He bore the name, Oscable, the same with that of the
ambassador, who was sent by the Seminoles to our army in Florida, with a flag of truce,
& was shot down by our honorable & Christian army; a deed unheard of before, I
believe, in all the horrors of war.
In the course of the week after the coming of Caushagence, his company gave an
exhibition in our town hall, preceded by a furious gallop through the street, to the music
of the war-whoop. The exhibition was very interesting, including the treatment of a
patient by a medicine man, who was encased in an alligator skin, & flopped round his
patient, who lay on the floor. She gave us some of the funeral rites,--a eulogy in the
Indian language, translated into English, & followed by a very simple requiem in their
rich, deep voices. The music of those few notes has stayed with me ever since. They
ended with a war dance, which was not so pleasant, one of them crouching near my feet,
& springing into the air, brandishing his tomahawk nearly or quite over
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my head.
Singularly enough, I escorted, as it were, this same Cawshagance to the State
Prison in Charlestown a few weeks afterward. It came about in this way. It seemed that
he was no Indian, but plain Daniel _____; I have forgotten his last name. He had lived
among Indians long enough to learn many of their habits; & his figure, copper-colored
complexion & straight black hair served him well. After his performance in Deerfield he
was convicted of having carried off another man’s wife, & was sentenced to a year in the
State prison. It happened that I was going to Boston on a certain day; & at that time, as
it was for some years, it was necessary to make the journey as far as Fitchburg by stagecoach; Fitchburg then being the terminus of the railroad. When we reached Greenfield
the coach stopped at the jail, & the self-styled Cawshagance was assisted with much
difficulty to the top of the coach, as he was handcuffed & fettered to a poor fellow, only
sixteen years old, who had received a similar sentence for stealing six dollar’s worth of
silver. We women in the coach cried out against the severity of the sentence; but were
told by some man, probably the officer, who had charge of the prisoners, that it was not
his first offence. I thought of him when the year came round, Sept 1, 1849,

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& wondered how much wiser he had become by his sojourn with older & greater
criminals. The train stopped at the back gate of the prison, & we left our unhappy
fellowmen at their dismal quarters.
I think that I have said nothing of Miss Mary Moody Emerson; a most unique
woman,-- the aunt, to whom has distinguished nephew felt that he owed so much in the
forming period of his life. She was a woman of much strength of mind, as well as a great
cultivation, I think, for that day, & of very decided opinions on various subjects;-opinions, which she never hesitated to state in strong terms. I think she must have
started in life with the determination of “speaking the truth,” without paying much
attention to the later clause of injunction. Her grandnephew, Dr. Edward Emerson, says
that she had too much sharpness in her nature to be an agreeable inmate for any length
of time. Toward her last day of her long life, I think that she became nearly or quite ; &
earlier in life, as Whittier says of another,
“The outward wayward life we see.
The hidden spring we may not know.
Nor is it given us to discern
The sorrow with the woman born
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What forged her cruel chain of moods,
What set her feet in solitudes,
And held the love within her mute.”
My intercourse with her was most peculiar. During our residence in Concord in
my youth, we saw her more or less. She applied for board with Mrs. Buttrick, with
whom we were boarding. Of course we said nothing to influence Mrs. B., but were very
glad when she decided not to take Miss Emerson. When the latter received her answer,
she said to Mrs. Buttrick, who was somewhat deaf, “Which is your best ear? Dr.
Willard’s family don’t want me,” which was very true, though we had never said so.
Many years later, when we were living in Deerfield, Miss E. appeared suddenly at
our house, hoping, I suppose, that she could board with us. This being out of the
question, I took considerable pains to find her a boarding-place, which I succeeded in
finding a house next our own. She was not very well pleased, & complained to me of the
noise made by washing dishes when she was late at breakfast in another room, I think;
& the enthusiasm of a young girl over a former teacher was offensive to her. She
depended on me for occasional little services, & now & then came in for a private
conversation; one of which was the question whether or not it could be proper for her,
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then at the age of eighty or more, to take board at a place, where one member of the
family was a divorced man, certainly not more than forty years old. I could not see that
there would be any objection on the score of delicacy. In that same conversation she
expressed her displeasures at having received a call from my father & mother on the
preceding Sunday evening, saying that she should not have been more surprised to see a
ghost come in; & she added, “Your father & Mrs. Eldridge talked about thermometers.
She had manifested her displeasure at the time by returning to her own room before my
father & mother went. We learned afterward, however, that she had been quite

disturbed with the family for neglecting to call her down to see that same divorced man,
who called after my parents left.
It happened that a few months previous to this time, on one of my visits to my
friends, the Williames, in Hartford I had been so much pleased with a very simple
wrought-collar worn by Mrs. W., that I had worked one for myself, & also for my mother
& sister. I was wearing mine one day, when Miss called & said to me, “If you bought that
collar to help some poor milliner, it’s all very well; but if you did not, I will say that is in
very
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bad taste.” In another day, when she sent for me to do an errand for her, as I had not
called in her for some little time, I thought that I would sit a little while, there being
apparently no haste necessary about the errand. Presently, however, she said, “If you
are going, you may go now.” It is needless to say that I went.
I had other much more trying experiences with her, which, though they disturbed
me at the time, are only a source of amusing reminiscences now, & had better fall into
oblivion. I was much of an invalid at that time myself, with no spare strength, & with
little for home-duties; & as Miss Emerson had maladies, that might at any time become
very serious, I became quite anxious lest she demand & need aid that I could not give.
Therefore it was a great relief when she decided to leave town. When I made my
farewell call, she said, “I have not thanked you for what you have done for me because I
think that those who can help others are blessed of God!” Verily they are, & it is a grief
indeed to lose the power of helping others.
When I was young, it was customary to drop down on one’s friends for a visit
without special invitation & without warning, trusting that a visit would be convenient &
agreeable.
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We received multitudes of friends in that way, & legions of strangers for a shorter time.
During our first residence in Hingham, when I was from seventeen to twenty-three
years old, I think that nearly or quite all the young ladies, who had friends in Boston,
spent a few weeks there every winter. I did among the rest, including my visits to
Dorchester & Cambridge also. I enjoyed a great deal in these visit; & formed an
affection for those places, which I have never lost.
My first visit to Boston, after I was four years old, was made in the company of
my father early in the winter of 1829-30, very soon after our arrival to Hingham. I think
that we must then have been invited by Mrs. John Codman of Rowe Place, on the
corner, I think, of Chauncey Place & Essex St.; or at least that we must have announced
our intention of spending a Sunday there, for though she was a friend of my father &
mother, they were not so intimate with her, as to make an unheralded arrival of two
people suitable. It must have been on Monday, that Mrs. C. invited Dr. Channing, & Dr.
Joseph Tuckerman, minister at large, that is, to the poor of Boston, to dine with her, &
meet my father, who was already well acquainted with Dr. Channing. I

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do not know whether or not he had ever met Dr. Tuckerman. Dr. C. had an engagement,
& could not come; but Dr. T. came. I was very much impressed by the saintliness of his
appearance. He had brought from England the idea of a ministry at large, & was himself
the first person to fill the position. I remember his saying on that day that he should
wish nothing better after death than to be allowed to come back, & minister with his
poor in Boston.
My father returned home that afternoon, I think, but I stayed a few days longer at
Mrs. Codman’s, & then visited at Mr. Rice’s in West Street, Dr. John Ware’s in Howard
St., then the court-end, as Mrs. Codman said, & at Judge Jackson’s in Bedford Place,
close by the Chauncey Hall school. There I must have gone by special invitation, & spent
some days very pleasantly. Judge & Mrs. J. are charming in their entice simplicity of
manner, & the daughters very friendly. From that time when they knew of my being in
town, I was always invited to dine on some Sunday, & attend service at King’s Chapel
with them in the afternoon.
It must have been this same winter that Mrs. Codman invited me to dine at her
house, & meet her “two favorite nieces,”
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Misses Anna Cabot Loarll & Cornelia Amory, afterward. Mrs. Chas. G. Loring by a
second marriage on both sides, & step-mother of the present Colonel C.G. Loring. Miss
Sewell afterward invited me to a cotillion party at her house. I went with Francis
Codman & met the very elite of Boston, I suppose, dancing with Mrs. Codman’s nephew,
Mr. Bethune,--the late Rev. Dr. George Bethune, I believe.
Before my return home I made my enjoyable visits at the houses of Dr. Ware Sen.
& Prof. Willard in Cambridge, & at Dr. Thaxter’s in Dorchester. Afterward I used to stay
at Mr. Benjamin Thaxter’s in Boston, & Mr. Joseph Willard’s also, at Mr. Treadwell’s in
Cambridge. There were a number of other places, where I used to be invited to spend a
day, both in Boston & Cambridge, & others, where I only called. I sometimes attended
President Quincy’s [?], & other parties in Cambridge.
One evening is memorable, chiefly from subsequent events, though it was
charming at the time. My cousin Adeline Lincoln, was then engaged to Prof. Treadwell,
& I were staying at old Dr. Ware’s, & in Mr. Treadwell’s account the Ware family &
Adeline were invited to spend an evening at the house of Dr. John White
Page 88:
Webster, afterward so well known through the terrible tragedy, which he enacted?. He
was exceedingly fond of music, & on that evening Miss Helen Davis, daughter of the
Solicitor, sang finely. One of her songs, which I had never heard before, destroyed by
me ever since, though I did not hear it again for more than sixty years.
Among the people, whom it was a privilege to meet at their own house &
elsewhere, were Dr. Henry Ware Jr. & his wife, nee’ Mary Pickard. They were charming
in their simplicity of manner, & so excellent! I was staying in Cambridge when they gave
up their home there, & moved to Framingham, for the sake of economy, as Dr. Ware had
resigned hie professorship, on account of ill-health, I think. His little daughter Hattie
said to Mrs. Rice, “We are going to be poorly now.”

It must have been at this time that I had the privilege of joining in a communionservice, at which he officiated probably one of the last times. I heard some pleasant
anecdotes of the family-life in Framingham. Some lady who was visiting them, heard
frequent mention of “the butter money,” and was told after a while that the children, if
they were willing to give up eating
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butter,” were allowed to give the money, that it would have cost in charity. This they
did.
One day when Mr. Abbott Laurence called, the oldest daughter, Elizabeth, was
washing windows upstairs. When she saw him coming she ran down to meet him with
her sleeves turned up. This pleased Mr. L. so much, that when not long afterward he
sent a package of presents for the family, it contained calico “for a dress for Miss
Elizabeth when she washes windows.” She was a fine girl, & as I have been told, refused
some offers of marriage on account of an inherited disease. I had an exceedingly
pleasant acquaintance with John F. Ware, though his moods made him very uncertain.
I once hear him preach a sermon on “hereditary tendencies,” in which he said that,
though they may be a palliation, they are not an excuse for our wrong-doing;--that it
should be our life work to counteract them. In the course of the sermon he said that he
recognized in himself traits, that belonged to an ancestor, whom he had never seen;--his
maternal grandfather Dr. Waterhouse, no doubt, whose reputation for evenness or
pleasantness of temper was not good. John F. W. felt that he owed a great deal to the
beautiful influence of his stepmother. I think he never
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lost an opportunity for paying her a tribute of grateful love. I was told in good authority
that when he & his older sister, Elizabeth, being children, learned that their father was
to bring them a new mother, they determined not to like her. She came in the evening,
& went to visit them in their beds so lovingly, that they were completely disarmed, &
surrendered at once.
I remember a delightful call from Mr. William Ware, author of Zenobia, with his
lovely wife. He was a very handsome man, as well as very pleasing otherwise. He
brought the first aeolia I ever saw, & played the Cromack [?] with much expression.
It is so long since I began to write these “simple annuals,” that I have forgotten
whether or not I have mentioned the meetings of the Franklin Evangelical Association,
which, notwithstanding the present meaning of the word, “Evangelical,” was composed
of Unitarian clergyman. They were a very small number at first, being only my father,
Mr. Rogers of Bernardston, Mr. Smith of Warwick, & one other, perhaps Mr. Harding of
New Salem. As the number was so very small, they took their [?] with them. Before my
distinct recollection, however, they had increased to a goodly number, & membership
was by no means confined to Franklin County, as Dr. Peabody of SpringPage 91:
field, Mr. Hall of Northampton, & even Mr. Sullivan of Keene, N.H., were attendants at
the meetings, & I certainly think, members. The meetings were held often, & at the
houses of the different members; I do not know whether in regular rotation, or at such
time as was most convenient to any member to invite them.

After the Association grew to the number of ten or twelve it was a very serious
matter to entertain them for the three meals that are included in the session, & the
night, of course. As many as the house could accommodate remained for the night.
Others were quartered round among such parishioners, as were ready to offer their
houses. Neighbors were very kind, too, in sending in bread, pies, &c to help the hostess.
Matters were complicated by the utter uncertainty as to how many to provide for. I
think that it was on the last occasion when they met at our house, long after my father
resigned his parish, that the meeting was a very full one. I think twelve dined together,
probably including my mother & myself. Our faithful & competent American servant
was taken ill that morning; so that we were not only obliged to do the work, but to wait
on her. Just before dinner I went to take a last look at the table, & to my astonishment
found a slip
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of paper lying upon the table, on which was written, “They will be starved.” This seemed
very discouraging, & was utterly unaccountable to me, until I remembered that we had
played “Consequences” some time before to entertain some young people, & that
probably the slips had been put into the same table decor with my sister’s knives &
forks, which we had borrowed for this occasion.
We had imprudently invited Dr. & Mrs. Parkhurst & their son, our beloved young
minister just ordained, to take tea with us; but my mother & I found ourselves so
completely used up when the clergy departed after dinner, that we were obliged to
countermand the invitation. Mr. Lincoln was dispatched with the message, quite
against his inclination, no doubt. I can see & hear with what a serious face & voice he
would give the message, which he prepared by saying, “I am under the painful
necessity.” Mr. Parkhurst was out, & Mrs. Parkhurst, an anxious mother, immediately
conjectured that some harm had befallen him, & was quite startled.
Never was a parish happier then we were when we thought that we had secured
the services of this remarkable young man. He was not particularly striking in the
pulpit; though his
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services were good; but his conversation was wonderfully rich & varied for a man of
twenty-three years. His mind seemed a storehouse of knowledge, from which he could
draw at any time, & on any subject, without any parade of learning. He was at the same
time a great talker & a most respectful listener, being almost too profoundly attentive, as
it seemed as if one ought to say something well worth saying to deserve so much
apparent interest.
All was joyful for about six weeks, or perhaps considerately less. Several informal
evening parties were given, any of the parish being invited, who chose to come. No
refreshments were furnished. Mr. Parkhurst’s more than daily calls at our house from
his ordination July 21, 1841, until Sept. 4, were a delight & a rich treat to us; but they
were brought to a very sudden end. Some time in August a dreadful epidemic of
dysentery broke out, six cases, I think, being fatal. Almost every member of our family
either had the disease seriously, or threatenings of it. Sept. 4 was a day never to be
forgotten by me. On that day Mary Wilson, perhaps the most brilliant girl in Deerfield,
& a particular friend of ours, died. In the afternoon there was a funeral of a child. Dr.

Williams that morning reported Mr. Parkhurst as being in a high fever, & my father sent
him word that he would officiate at
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the funeral. However Mr. P. came in, & went with us to the church saying that he did
not wish to alarm the parish needlessly. He read a passage of scripture, but as my father
rote to offer the prayer, I noticed that Mr. P. left the body of the church, followed by Dr.
& Mrs. Williams. When I went into the vestibule after the service, I found him seated,
perfectly composed, though as pale as he afterward looked in his coffin. He was raising
blood, & we learned for the first time that he had had a previous hemorrhage. When he
first came to us, he struck as a looking very delicate; but his cheerful spirits, his firm,
quick step, & the zeal with which he entered on his duties, wore away the impression;
though Saint-Beruc’s [?] description of Joubert applied perfectly to him:--“He looked
like a spirit, that had accidentally met a body, & had little to do with it as possible. "This
effect was much heightened by his perfect transparency of character. I never saw any
other being, in whom I seemed to look directly on the soul.
On the following day, Sunday, --six people were to be admitted to the church, as
it was called, Samuel among the number. Mr. Parkhurst had looked forward to the day
with peculiar interest. It was to be his first administering of the Communion. After his
death, in looking over his manuscripts with a view to writing the Memorial
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of him, which my father published, we found an unpublished sermon from the text,
“With desire I have desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer.” Undoubtedly
he had intended to deliver it on that occasion. Of course he could not be present to at
the church, & my father took his place, going through the two regular services,
administering the Communion, & officiating at two funerals, though he was then sixtysix years old.
Mr. Parkhurst soon went to his father’s house in Petersham, but returned for two
or three days to perform a Sunday’s service with a great deal of help from my father;-about an equal share;--& also to officiate at Helen Williams’ marriage, Oct. 4. After
staying a while longer in Petersham, he put himself under the care of Dr. Twitchell, a
distinguished physician in Keene, N.H., where he was treated not only for lung-troubles,
but for a white swelling on one elbow. Here he lingered until Feb. 16, 1842, where the
pail tenement set its occupant free. On the following day a special messenger brought
my father a letter from Rev. Mr. Livermore of Keene, announcing the sad tidings, &
saying, that after the funeral services in Petersham on Sunday, the Parkhurst family
would give over the
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remains to the parish in Deerfield. The solemn tolling of the bell for an hour through
the winter twilight gave the first tidings to the parish that their young pastor had “risen
to his place.” A parish-meeting was called at once, a delegation of six of whom my
brother was one, was chosen to represent the parish at the services in Petersham, &
bring home the sacred trust. My father requested that all that mortal of one dear friend
might be brought to our home,--the first & the last that he had entered in Deerfield.
Accordingly in the still moonlight on Sunday evening he again entered those doors,

where his presence had brought so much joy before; & we left the visible form to its rest
by the soft light of the astral lamp. The next day almost every member of his father’s
family & some of the clergy came to our house; & in exactly seven months from one of
the hours when we were in the church for the ordination, we were there for the funeralrites. “Sic transit!”
It would seem that this sad experience would have been a warning to the parish
in choosing another pastor, but near the close of the year 1843, they called Mr. James
Blodgett, evidently in consumption, with a racking cough.
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He was ordained Jan. 17, 1844, but was obliged to leave us in April 1845, though he did
not resign his office until the next July, I think. He was able to perform all the Sunday
services but once after his ordination, & after a few months lost his voice entirely. I
think that he was a fine man, though he had but small opportunity for showing what he
really was. It was recommended that he should go South for his health; but I think he
felt that he could not endure the sight of slavery in silence, & that if he spoke his mind,
he shall not be allowed to remain there, or should be seriously molested. “I would
rather lose my voice,” he said, “than be afraid to use it.” He died before the end of 1845,
I think, & his lovely young wife, whom he had brought as a bride, & a remarkably pretty
one, when he came for his ordination, very soon followed him, having apparently taken
his disease.
To go back into the past, I will say that both of my grandfathers died before my
birth;--and my maternal grandfather, Dr. Joshua Barker of Hingham in 1800. My
grandmother Barker was a very dear member of our household. She died Feb. 20, 1828,
just before my birthday of sixteen. I believe that my grandPage 98:
mother Willard died in the autumn of the same year. She made long visits at our house;
but though her strong good sense & her wit made her conversation interesting &
entertaining, she had a certain austerity of manners & ideas, that kept me aloof, & I do
not think that I at all knew her real worth. Indeed I do not think that she was much at
our house after I was old enough to appreciate her. She died at the age of eighty-six,
having retained her faculties of body & mind to a remarkable degree, I should think.
She was tall, & large framed & masculine, as she needed to be on a farm in town, where
wolves still devoured sheep, especially with so much care, as came on her, of six sons.
They loved as well as reverenced her. My father resembled her very much. As a proof of
her great strength, I have heard him say, that when he was six weeks old, she took him
in the saddle, & rode from Petersham to Lancaster, her native place, a distance of about
thirty miles.
My “grandma” Barker was rather taller than my mother, but even my recollection
very thin & wrinkled, & very delicate, as I think she had been for many years. She almost
always kept her chamber for a considerable part of the winter, at least; but she was very
good company, & often entertained

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us children with stories of her girlhood, & with other devices. In winter she sat by her
fire in the great easy chair, where my great-grandfather Barker had sat, & where five
generations after him sat before the flames destroyed it. In summer it stood by one of
the west windows in her charming south front chamber, her old family bible lying on the
window seat close by.
She was said to have been very pretty indeed in her youth, as the little miniature
of her shows. No doubt her [?] in Joshua Barker thought so. I believe that it was the
first & only love with them both. They were first cousins, as Miss Cushing said that
almost as quite all the young people of Hingham were at that time. They were married
in the year 1779, I suppose, as my grandmother was twenty-four when she was married.
Their first child, Joshua, died a little before my mother’s birth, Oct. 18, 1782. They lived
with my great-grandfather, Capt. Francis Barker, in the house ? Mrs. Adams now lives,
until my mother was two years old, when my grandfather purchased the house opposite
the old church, on the corner of Main & Elm streets. Here he died April 1, 1800, of
nervous consumption, his birthday of 47 having just passed,--March 24. He promised
my grandmother that, if it were possible,
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he would manifest himself to her. She said that she had many times gone into a dark
room alone, thinking that she might see him, but in vain. He had also made her promise
that she would never place herself in such a situation, that her coffin could not be placed
on his. I think that this promise may have increased reluctance to leaving Hingham to
make her future home with my mother in Deerfield. Distances were so great, &
travelling so slow in those days, that it could hardly have seemed possible when that her
mortal remains could be carried to Hingham. The day before her death, however, when
she was aware that that event was close at hand, my mother inquired whether it would
be any comfort to her to know that my father would accompany her to Hingham. “To be
sure it would,” she answered with great earnestness. Accordingly he went, Col. Wilson
driving him. The winter was breaking up very early,--the last week in February; & the
journey of three days was a sad & trying one. Sometimes wheels & sometimes runners
were necessary. When the Barker tomb was opened for the reception of its new guest, it
was found that in the interval of almost twenty-eight years, my grandfather’s coffin had
decayed so much that his beloved wife was laid by his side, instead of being placed
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on his coffin. Dr. Thaxter of Dorchester, whose mother was my grandfather’s sister,
many years afterward had the interior of the tomb put in order, & erected the small
monument, that now marks the spot. He was laid there himself, & Dr. Cushing, in view
of the future, calls it his house in Hingham. In addition to the share that my mother
must already have owned in this resting-place, Cousin Debby Barker bequeathed her
own right to her.
When my grandmother Barker died she left to my mother her furniture & her
homestead in Hingham, & to my sister & myself her very small personal property,-$700,saying that my father would provide for his son. It had been very much the
custom of the Hingham men to have their property almost wholly to their sons at the
expense of justice to their daughters. When Gen. Barker died during the same year with

my grandmother, he left $400 each to Susan, Samuel, & myself. My mother sold her
place in Hingham to Mr. Lincoln some time in the forties, & he soon sold it for a very
low price out of the family, quite to our regret, though the house was not conveniently
arranged.
Mr. Lincoln probably inherited his roving propensity, or love for change from his
father, a sea-captain. He soon tired of a
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place, & thought that he had a “call of Providence” to go to some other. Then, though he
was exceedingly careful in small sums, he would sometimes make a very considerable
pecuniary sacrifice. Then, too, notwithstanding his uncommon love for order, he never
seemed so happy, as when everything was turned upside down in preparation for
moving.
Before my mother’s marriage my grandmother had a little colored servant,
named Phoebe. The family then consisted of my grandmother, my mother, & “Aunt
Peggy” Lincoln, who was, I think, hardly even a distant connection. She spent a year or
more with my mother in Deerfield, & took a great deal of care of me in my infancy. It
was she, who said, when Napoleon was terrifying the nations, “I do ? he ought to be
taken up.” One of the very few things that I remember of my visit in Hingham when I
was four years old is my unwillingness to kiss her on account of her being strongly
scented with snuff. Not many years afterward she was found dead in her bed, with a
pinch of snuff between her thumb & finger. She had been well when the family retired
that night.
When my grandmother’s family had been spending an evening out, they found on
their return home that Phoebe had prepared a little treat for them of raisins & candy, I
think, bought at “Ma’am Lorings” shop, the little house next Derby Academy, toward
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the old church. On being asked where she got the money, Phoebe answered very simply,
“Out of Miss Peggy’s drawer.” My mother enlightened her on the subject of meum &
tuum [?].
One very cold winter evening, my grandmother, thinking that no one would call,
told Phoebe that she might sit with the family in the parlor. Of course, it was not long
before there was a knock at the front door. Phoebe was ensconced behind the great easy
chair where my grandmother sat, & a gentleman entered, bringing dog, which being of
an inquiring turn of mind, like most of his race, soon discovered Phoebe in her hiding
place, & made things uncomfortable for her. She was very much displeased with him &
said, “Darn him! Why couldn’t he let me alone. This isn’t any of his house.” The poor
child was greatly troubled by her black skin, & not irreverently, I presume, wondered,
“why the Lord made two kinds.” She was “sure it was more trouble.”
Captain & Mrs. Lincoln are very indulgent to their two little sons, Luther Barker
& Joshua Barker. They are said to have been allowed each to carry a salt fish to bed one
night; & that if they had fancied a hammer & looking-glass to play with, they would not
have been prevented. Consequently they were not the most desirable

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visitors; but Capt. Lincoln said that he did not wish to go where his children were not
welcome, & my mother was very fond of her cousin, Elizabeth Barker Lincoln, his wife,
then years her senior. When Mrs. Lincoln was about to sail for England with her
husband, some Hingham woman said, “I wonder that Betsey will go by water.” Their
first child, a little girl, was born in England, & I think died there. I have heard my
mother say that the “little things,” made in preparation for the occasion, were ironed
with a mangle, which instead of the ordinary ironing leaves some pretty pattern, made
by pressing, instead of passing the iron over the article. I think that Mrs. Lincoln had
kept some of the little robes just as they were down up, as the small stranger did not live
to wear them. Mrs. L. was buried in Havana.
Capt. L. gave up his seafaring life, & bought a farm in Westford, Mass., where the
little boys were born. He was uneasy, as seamen generally are when on land for a length
of time, & I am not sure that he did not make some voyages after that time. Indeed, I
think that he must have done so, from the fact of his wife having been buried in Havana.
The manner in which Capt. Lincoln began his maritime life, deserves to be
recorded as showing both his
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shrewdness & his daring. Wishing for a position as master of a vessel, he went to
Philadelphia, with a very small sum of money in his pocket; but instead of finding some
cheap boarding-place, he went to a first class hotel, thinking that he might find some
ship-owner among the wealthy Quakers. All turned out as he expected, & he was soon
in command of a vessel, & his successful began.
He showed his courage in a very different way in another occasion. Passing the
old cemetery in Hingham late one night, he was a figure in white near one of the tombs.
He entered the cemetery, & approached the figure, which, as he came near, ran round &
round the tomb, followed by him. At last, being closely pursued, it darted down into the
tomb, still followed by him. It proved to be an insane woman, who had wrapped a sheet
around her, & gone to the cemetery.
Mrs. Louis was a noted character. She was in some way a relative or connection
of either the Barker or the Lincoln family, I think, but do not know how, or in what
degree. Very soon after her marriage to Capt. Louis, he sailed for a voyage, which in
those days was a thing of time, sometimes for months.
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Her mother hired her by the promise of a “red ridinghood,” to go to Boston, & see her
husband off. She went to Boston on her saddle horse, & returned with the ridinghood,
but did not take the trouble to see her husband off. I think that she was the torment of
the poor man’s life when he was at home. On his return from one of his voyages, instead
of trying to make herself attractive, she put on a cap so badly soiled, that he set it on fire
on her head. Rather a dangerous way of expressing his feelings! After a time she began
to make preparations for a flight by laying in supplies of clothing from time to time, as
she was able. After quite a length of time this was accomplished & she disappeared
during one of his absences, I think. When he discovered her flight, he expressed his
indignation in nautical terms, saying, “I’ll reef her sails for her, main-top- gallant-sail &
all.” What was the end of the affair, I do not know.

I think it may be well for me to give some account here of my grandmother
Barker’s brothers & sisters, as it is not improbable that I knew about them & their
children than is known by any other person, now living. Another place would have been
more appropriate; but I did not think of it in season. The oldest son, I think, the oldest
child of his
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parents was “Uncle Benjamin Thaxter.” He bought & resided on a farm in Worcester, in
which city some of his grandchildren still remain, I suppose I do not know the order of
his children; but their names were Martin, Sally, Fanny, Francis, Mary, & Benjamin.
Martin drew a prise of $10.000, wealth in those days, in a lottery in Philadelphia. This
was his ruin, as he left the farm, & went to seek his fortune in one of the Southern
States, where he died not long afterward, & it was never known to the family what
became of his money. –Sally married a Mr. Avery, a clergyman, I think; but had no
children.—Fanny & Francis died unmarried. –Mary married a Mr. Wheeler, of
Worcester, I think. Their children were Henry, Sarah, Mary, & Henrietta. Henry is
father of the young Henry, who went to Oregon with his distant cousin, Addie Cushing,
whom he married not long ago, after much resistance on her part from disparity in age,
she being old enough to be his mother. Benjamin Thaxter, Jr. was a highly respected
Boston merchant, partner of Mr. Nathan Rice. He married a handsome & very kindhearted Mrs. Haight, with whom he had boarded. They had no children, except one,
that died in the birth. Mr. Thaxter was spoken of “an Israelite indeed, in whom there
was no guile.”
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My grandmother’s oldest sister, Grace, married Solomon Blake, & lived in
Hingham, in the house between Sister Sarah’s & Dr. Spooner’s, her father’s house being
situated on the lot, where Mrs. Thomas Whitin’s house now stands. Her husband had a
violent temper, & I have heard my grandmother say that his wife hoped to be forgiven
for the lies she had told in trying to shield her children from his wrath. Their names
were Martin, Charles, Edwin, & Susan, or Sukey, as she was called. The Blakes were
noted for doing uncommon things, not always praise-worthy. Martin was engaged to a
lovely Miss Sally Winship, sister of the great gardener in Brighton. She had a supposed
friend, who proved very false to her. On one of this person’s visits to Miss Winship the
house was so full, that it was necessary that she should take Miss W.’s sleeping-room.
She took the opportunity given her for reading some of Mr. Blake’s love letters, &
afterward repeated passages from them to him. The idea that Miss. W. could be so
indelicate as to show these letters so disgusted him, that he deserted her, & married the
treacherous friend. She proved a curse to him. My mother once hear him say in his
wife’s presence, that he hoped to live to make reparation to Miss W. for
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the wrong he had done her. Afterward, I do not know for what reason, he fought a duel,
killed his antagonist, & was obliged to leave the country.—Charles, his brother, had an
unfortunate love-affair. He & Miss Lydia Barnes of Hingham, a handsome, finely
preserved woman, as I remember her, were very much attached to each other, & I think,
engaged; but her family objected to the marriage. So they both lived & died single.—

Edwin, Amelia Saxton’s father, married Hannah Lincoln, of Hingham. I believe she had
a great trial with him, but she was said never to have been known to be out of temper in
her life. Their children were Amelia, Lincoln, & George.—“Sukey”, sister of Edwin,
married Capt. Trott, and lived in Boston. I know nothing of their children, except that
there were at least two sons, to whom their father used to say in the spring, “Boys, I shall
whip you in the fall;” & in the fall, “Boys, I shall whip you in the spring.”
My grandmother had a brother Frank, who was married, but died early without
children. My grandmother, of whose marriage I have already written, was the second of
the daughters. Christiana was the third. She married William Cushing of Rocky Nook,
Hingham, & was left a widow & poor,
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with five children, Peter, John, Christiana, (Mrs. Pomeroy,) Fanny, (Mrs. George Arms,
& afterward Mrs. Dr. Stone,) & Silence, (Mrs. John Beale.)
I think “Uncle Tom Thaxter” must have been the next in order;--a charming old
gentleman, as I remember him, with his silver hair, & his handsome, benevolent face.
He married his cousin, Nancy Thaxter, sister of old Mr. Quincy Thaxter. Their children
were Anna Quincy, commonly called Nancy, & Susan Joy, both of whom married Mr.
Edward Thaxter, the first wife dying at the birth of her first child, & the child also. The
children of the second marriage were Annie Quincy who died very early, a second of the
same name, now Mrs. Benjamin Cushing, Susan Barker, afterward Mrs. Henry Peters,
who died leaving an infant son, her only child, & Thomas Edward, who also died young
unmarried.
Desire, the youngest of the Thaxter sisters, married Dr. Levi Lincoln of Hingham,
& was the mother of Mrs. Nathan Rice, Mrs. Dr. John Ware, & Mrs. Daniel Treadwell.
My grandmother’s father & mother were Benjamin Thaxter and Susan Joy.
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It would have been more orderly to have written of my grandfather Barker’s
family in another place. For some reason I know less or feel less certain about them,
than about my grandmother’s family. His father was Captain Francis Barker. His
mother’s maiden name I do not know. He had a brother Francis, the father of Cousin
Frank & Elizabeth, (Mrs. Capt. Lincoln.) Gen. John Barker, who used to make long
visits at our house. He died unmarried. He had also four sisters; one of whom, was
Polly, married Dr. Thomas Thaxter, & was the mother of Dr. Robert Thaxter, of
Dorchester, Thomas, & Mary, (Mrs. Jerome Cushing. Three of the sisters died
unmarried. My grandfather thought his sister Hannah a very superior woman, I think.
I have forgotten the names of the other two. I think that there were several other
children, who died in infancy.
I do not write my father’s pedigree, nor of his brother’s and sister’s, because they
are given in the published biography of him. As is said there, he first met my mother in
1806, when he went to preach to the New North Society, them just formed. He had been
told before going to Hingham, that she was the only young lady among their number,
whom the par-

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ish would be willing that their minister should marry. Of course this prepossessed him
in her favor, & her many attractions soon confirmed this impression. He paid her what
was marked attention for him; but his prospects did not warrant him in making an offer
for a year or more after that time. On her part, she was interested in him from the first
service that “any one who lived with him must be good.”
Among her charms, her used to speak of her music, vocal & instrumental. I think
that they sang together, & exchanged the written music of some of their favorite songs.
He spoke after her death of a Scotching [?] Bonnie Doon or The Highland Laddie as
among those which she then sang: After my recollection they sometimes sang together
The Wood Robin, & a rather varied ghost ballad, the first lines of which were
“The moon had climbed the highest hill,
The rises ov’r the source of Dee”
My mother sometimes played a little as long as she lived. Her style of playing &
singing was very soft & gentle, as was common in her day, & long afterward, so far as I
hear it. The piano, it is true, had but little power; but I think that was seldom really
brought
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out; & I am very sure that I never heard the full power of a voice brought out till I was
sixteen years old, when Mrs. Emily Williams, mother of the Bishop, had a visit from a
young Dutch niece, who sang at our house one evening. Sally Marsh’s comment on her
singing was, “I heard her yelling when I was over on the common.” Perhaps, if I had
been in the great world, I should have heard more of this style of singing.
My father had a very good bass voice. Sometimes he & my mother would sing
together some of the old sacred music, & his voice rolled out finely in the grand old
basses, that contained so much more music & variety than the modern basses, that they
were very enjoyable for their mere melody.
I remember on evening in my early childhood, as it were a dream. We children
were playing in the great south yard. It was the first time that I remember noticing the
flies. The air seemed full of them. When I went into the house, my father & mother
were sitting on the sofa in the south parlor, singing Away with Melancholy. I have
seldom or never, I think hear that tune since, without recalling the sweet picture,
associated with my first hearing it.
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As we children grew up, & learned to sing & play, the singing of a hymn was
sometimes a regular & very pleasant part of our family morning & evening worship. My
sister & I sang a good many songs together, her voice being soprano, mine alto. She
played with much grace, & was we then thought execution. I dare say she would have
played well the more difficult music in vogue today, if she had pratised it.
In our childhood she was very quiet, while I was full of vivacity & chatter. As we
grew up we seemed to exchange characters. She became very full of life & spirits, & very
fond of society. I do not remember ever being actually checked in very much talking;
but so much fun was made of it, that for years I seemed scarcely to talk at all. Naturally
when I visited I was considered very hard to entertain; while in fact probably no one was
more interested & amused than I by the conversation & doings of others. It was not

until I was twenty-four years old, that I set regularly to work learning to talk again, as I
used to say.
While my father continued in his parish, & we were flooded with company, as
indeed we continued to be after our removal to Hingham, Susan loved dearly,--better
than I did, --to hear
Page 115:
the falling of the tongue of the great gate, that announced the arrival of guests. It might
be two chaises. It might be a handsome carriage & pair, bringing as many people as the
carriage would hold. They might be friends, or there might be total strangers among
them. We might be already seated at the dinner-table; but my mother must always be
prepared with food & a suitable greeting for the unexpected guests, who were always in a
sense expected, & beautifully she filled this hard position.
It may be interesting to know something about the mode of travelling in those
days, which, of course, was either by stagecoach or by private conveyance. A handsome
private carriage & pair sometimes passed through Deerfield, or brought guests to
remain for more or less time. There was little variety in the vehicles generally used in
that neighborhood;--hardly anything but common wagons, & chaises. Old Dr.
Williams,--William Stoddard,--I think, always made his visits by walking, or by riding,
in either case taking his saddle bags, containing medicines, in his hand or on the saddle.
His son Dr. Stephen W. Williams, had a gig, which was an uncovered set for a single
person on two wheels, I think. Old Mr. Huntington, father of the bishop, drove a sully,
which differed
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from a gig by having a top, like a chaise.
Our journeys in the stage-coach sometimes brought us into acquaintance with
very agreeable people. It would have been very unwise, as well as uncivil, to sit side by
side or vis-a-vis for hours without speaking, especially as there was no noise to prevent
conversation. I suffered so much from sickness in the state, that I hardly ever took a
journey until after our return to Deerfield from our first residence in Hingham. After
that time my desire to visit the seacoast & my friends in that region led me to have the
suffering, which sometimes did not come. The rate of travel was very slow. My cousin
Lizzie Rice & I once took the journey together from Cambridge to Deerfield on top of the
coach;--a very pleasant seat, when we had climbed up to it by wheel & steps. We took
the coach at Cambridge about 5 A.M., came down from our high perch about 9 for a
change of coaches, & did not alight again until we reached Cheapside about 8 P.M. The
three drivers did all they could to entertain and please us, picking flowers for us, &
telling us the various people, who lived along the route, ending with buying a tin wash
basin of strawberries for the road, to which we failed of doing justice. Long afterward I
rode on top of the coach again with Swan [?], the last of those three
Page 117:
drivers, who had then driven for thirty years. He told me that he near forgot a
passenger, whom he had once carried. I once took the journey from Worcester to
Deerfield, or rather Greenfield, when it was neither sleighing, nor wheeling. We left

Worcester at 1 Oclock, & did not reach Greenfield till 1.30 the next morning, a distance
of about sixty miles in fifteen & a half hours.
My first railroad trip from Worcester to Framingham was in Jan 1837, though the
road had been open from Boston to Worcester for some years. It was amusing when
railway trains were a new thing to see the terror of the horses & cows in the pastures
along the track, expressed by running to get out of the way of the frightful master?
When the first train passed through Deerfield, Henry Hoyt’s old horse, that had seen the
snows of twenty winters, ran away, & forded or swam the Deerfield river. I think his
owner heard nothing of him for three days.
Some of the inhabitants of the village, went up on the hill to see the first train
pass. Among them was Dr. Goodhue, an old gentleman of eighty years. On going out he
said to the family that he supposed that some young rash adventurers would cross the
bridge at Cheapside seventy feet above the river & meadow. When he returned home, it
proved that he had been one of those who crossed.
Page 118:
A little steamboat plied more or less on the Connecticut river as early as 1827, I
think. It was once expected to come up as far as Cheapside, which is somewhat above
the influence of the Connecticut & Deerfield rivers, but for some reason it failed to come.
For some years afterward it was a question whether the friction could be sufficiently
overcome to make land-carriage possible by steam.
My father’s family has been well-known from the coming over of his first ancestor
in this country, Major Simon Willard, who came from “County Kent,” England, & was
very prominent in the incorporation of the town of Concord, Mass., his name standing
next to that of the first minister of the place, Rev. Peter Bulkeley. Major Willard was
valiant fighter of the Indians. His son, one of seventeen children, I think, Reverend
Samuel Willard D.D., was the second pastor of the Old South church, Boston,--a very
learned divine. He withstood the persecution of the Salem witches, so called, though the
judge, who condemned the, was a highly valued parishioner & friend. Dr. Willard was
really President of Harvard College, though with the title of vice president, as the
president must reside on the grounds, & his parishioners were unwilling to give him up,
as he was to leave them. He had twentyPage 119:
one children, of whom my father’s grandfather, Rev. John Willard, of Biddeford, Maine,
was one. How my grandfather, William Willard, came to stray up to the wilds of
Petersham. I do not know; but he did buy a small farm there, & marry Katherine Wilder
of Lancaster. Afterward he bought a larger farm. I do not know whether he purchased
or built the quite imposing mansion, that has only within a few years been sold out of
the family. My grandfather Willard died before my birth, as did my grandfather Barker.
Both my grandmothers lived until I was nearly or quite sixteen. My grandmother
Willard was tall, large-framed, plain & rather severe in her manners. My grandmother
Barker was extremely slight, delicate, & graceful, & was said to have been remarkably
pretty in her youth. Both were bright & entertaining, & enjoyed each other’s society, I
think when they were together. Grandmother W. lived to the age of eighty-six, and to
the end of her life, I think, being nearsighted, could read her Bible in diamond-type. I
think she retained all her faculties bodily & mental in a remarkable degree to the last.

Her children were William, who had a family of five daughters & two sons;
Catherine, who died unmarried about the age of fifty. Being the oldest daughter, my
father used to say that
Page 120:
she was like a mother to the younger children. I remember her as a quiet, rather sad
woman; though perhaps she was not really sad. I might have said in the proper place
that my uncle William drove one of his daughters from Petersham to Deerfield on his
birthday of eighty. He was a very cheerful spirit, I think. Uncle Josiah I scarcely
remember, as he died in my childhood. His children were Zur, Sarah, (Mrs. Sanderson,)
Addison, & George. Susan, (Aunt Holland of Belchertown,) paired with him. Her
children were Marcia, Sophia, (Mrs. Aaron Arms of Deerfield,) Seneca, Jonas, & Susan,
who married a Mr. Wood or Woods. Aunt Holland was a lovely woman, & quite plump,
& a really pretty blonde at the age of eighty. She came to her end by a fall on the ice,
while still active at home and abroad. Uncle Ephraim, whom I never saw, came next.
He died while my father was in college, leaving two children, Horatio, who died young,
& Elvira, who married an Orthodox minister, whose name I cannot recall. Aunt
Sophronia was his pair. She married a widower with sons, Mr. Ballard of Lancaster. I
think that Rebecca was her daughter, but am not sure. Then came my father, & after
him Aunt Bridgman, of Belchertown, who was also quite a handsome woman at eighty,
with dark complexion & very black eyes; tall, also, as almost all the family were. Her
children were Charles, Willard, & Catherine (Mrs. Mugs,) I am not
Page 121:
sure that there was not another son.
I do not know where little Anna came in, who died of Scarlet Fever at the age of
seven. My father said that he remembered her; but spoke as if his recollection of her
were slight, though his memory dated back to an early age. Uncle Cephas & Uncle
Solomon were the last two of the family. I am not quite sure which was the older. Uncle
Cephas lived on the old place, & left it to his children at the age of ninety-three or four, I
think. He was well-known & much respected in Worcester county. His children were
Joseph, William, Elizabeth, & Cephas. Elizabeth, a striking handsome woman as well as
one of very good mind & much capacity, married Rev. William Barry, then of Lowell,
afterward of Framingham, and lastly a man of handsome property in Chicago. Uncle
Solomon was an architect, & so absorbed in his profession, that he seldom or never for
years visited hi brothers & sisters, or even his mother. He was the architect of Bunker
Hill monument for years, & was said to have given a thousand dollars toward it. He
never married. I am told that he did much for the town of Quincy, where he lived,
especially for the schools. I am not sure whether I ever saw him. If so, I was so young
that my recollection of his is like a faint dream.
Page 122:
A little incident, that befell Samuel on one of his stagecoach journeys when he
was young, may be of interest. Among his fellow passengers were two young ladies,
travelling with their mother, I think, with whom he became so pleasantly acquainted,
that he proposed correspondence. Two or three letters were exchanged, & then the
correspondence ceased, & nothing more was known by us of the young ladies till Mary

Lincoln went abroad in 1878, where she was put somewhat under the care of a Mrs. D.A.
Palmer, who had taken the voyage, I think, more once before. While on their passage,
Mrs. Palmer, finding that she had lived in Deerfield, inquired whether she knew a blind
Mr. Willard. She proved to be his former correspondent. So after the lapse of nearly or
quite forty years, I should think, she was heard of again.
I must record another remarkable & touching incident in Samuel’s life. When he
was about to enter college his g-mother gave him a small bible, on a fly-leaf of which she
had copied some verses from My Early Days, by Walter Ferguson, which I will insert
here.
“Remember, love, who gave thee this,
When other days shall come;
Page 123:
Where she, who had thy early kiss,
Sleeps in her narrow home.
Remember ‘twas a mother gave
The gift to one she’d die to save.
“That mother sought a pledge of love
The holiest for her son;
And from the gifts of God above
She chose a lovely one.
She chose for her beloved boy
The source of life, & light & joy.
“And bade him keep the gift, that when
The parting hour should come,
They might have hope to meet again
In an eternal home.
She said his faith in that would be
Sweet-incense to her memory.
Page 124:
“A parents’ blessing on her son
Goes with this holy thing.
The love, that would retain the one,
Must to the other cling.
Remember ‘tis no idle toy;
A mother’s gift, remember, boy.”
For some time after he graduated, Samuel boarded in the family of a Mr. Carter
in Boston, hoping to get pupils especially in German, as to his qualifications for teaching
which he had high recommendation from Dr. Follen [?] & Hermann Barker, his
instructors. He was also an excellent classical scholar, I think, he had the best of
references. Not succeeding, however, in obtaining pupils, & had the weather becoming
so severe, that he did not feel that he could afford to keep fire enough to warm his large

room, he came to our boarding-place in Concord, after reading proof for a few weeks,
which probably hastened, if it did not cause, the failure of his sight, that began the same
winter. Breaking up & moving his few effects somewhat hastily, I believe, it happened
that his Bible was left behind. As well as I can recollect, the Carter family moved before
long, & he lost all traces of them & of his book.
Page 125:
This was in the winter of 1835. In the summer of 1857, during my mother’s last
illness, as it proved, at a time when she seemed to be improving, sister Susan went to
Dublin, N.H., for the benefit of her health. There she met with a daughter of this same
Mr. Carter, who finding that sister Susan was sister of the Mr. Willard whom she
remembered, told her that she had in her possession a bible, belonging to him. As he
had failed to claim it, her parents had given it to her when she was a child. She valued it
very highly, but thought that if the rightful owner wished for it, she should certainly be
returned to him. This he did indeed; & she gave it up to my sister Susan afterward sister
Susan was called home by our mother’s increased illness, & accordingly returned home
about ten days before the end came. Her trunk, however, containing the bible, for some
reason, is by some accident, did not arrive until the day before my mother’s death.
Samuel wished her to take the book into her own hands, & give it to him again, which
she did. By his request it was used at her funeral.
With this incident, so remarkable & so touching to us, I will close these random
sketches & anecdotes, written by the request of Mary Willard Lincoln, & for her special
benefit. Many
Page 126:
of them undoubtedly, are hardly, if at all worth recording; but the family relationships
on my father’s side, & still more on my mother’s are probably now very little known,
except to an extremely small number of their descendants; or it may even be to other
person so thoroughly as to myself in the generations that I have undertaken to give. If
so, as the knowledge of them in anything like fullness would pass away with me, this
small memorial of them may be of value.
407 Marlborough St., Boston
Finished Jan. 15, 1894
Mary Willard, aged nearly eighty-two years.
b. March 1, 1812 [d. July 1, 1895]

Willard, Mary (1812-1895)
“Anecdotes and Reminiscences. A Small ‘Labor of Love,’ Undertaken for the Special Benefit of
Mary Willard Lincoln by her Aunt, Mary Willard. The Pinckney, Boston, June 18, 1892.”

1 vol.

manuscript

20 cm

Reminiscence roughly covering the period 1822-1870. Mary Willard, daughter of the Rev.
Samuel Willard and Susanna Barker Willard, was born in Deerfield and spent nearly all of her
life there. Miss Willard, who wrote articles and poems, kept a number of diaries that she
unfortunately chose to destroy. Although not strictly a diary, her “Anecdotes and reminiscences
…” records a great deal of information about local events and people. Written for her niece, the
volume’s contents primarily concern the members of Miss Willard’s family and their activities.
Particular attention is paid to her father’s tenure as minister of the First Church of Deerfield
(Brick Church), including a detailed description of the church interior, and sermons preached
there. Miss Willard also comments on such diverse topics as stagecoaches, Deerfield houses,
music, cats, and diseases. A transcription is also available.
In Willard Family Papers, Box 1, folder 3

Williams, Abigail (Davenport) (1696-1766)
Diary, 1756-1757 [Longmeadow, Mass.]
1vol.

manuscript

31 cm.

With this is a transcript copy. Sheldon II:379; New England Hist. and Gen. Register, IX:198
Note: Diary of the first wife of the Reverend Dr. Stephen Williams of Longmeadow. Essentially
a diary of pious, religious reflection and meditation; prayers and supplications to preserve her
community from disease (small pox and throat distemper), the French and Indians, earthquakes,
etc. Sharing her husband’s theological views she prayed to God to “make us sensible of our
perishing need of Christ, of his all sufficiency to help to relieve us in our deadly case as
descendants from apostate Adam.” She records sermon texts and does refer to her immediate
family, Nathan (at Yale), Warham, etc., also to the afflictions of members of the Longmeadow
Parish.
Williams Family Papers, Box 1, folder 11

Wilson, John (1782-1869)
Diary, Mar. 4, 1815-Dec. 20, 1860. Deerfield, Mass.
1vol.

manuscript

20 cm

Sheldon II:389
Note: Essentially a business and agricultural journal. Records print shop affairs from 18171821; thereafter a very precise and highly detailed account of his agricultural crops, garden
crops, and a very exact descriptions of his orchards.
Some interesting entries:
April 30, 1816
“Moved to Deerfield Street”
April 16, 1817
“Bot printing apparatus $250 Due 6 months
“Do Copy right Dickinsons Justice at $500”
Dec. 15, 1819
“Henry Catlin began to occupy the office chamber as cabinet shop…
April 28, 1820
“Doctr. Stephen W. Williams moved in, to occupy part of our house at 40
dollars pr year”
Mar. 29, 1821
“Removed from Town Street to Great River”
May 26, 1845
“Sent specification and drawings of my Share Harrow to the Patent Office
with $30 for the fee by mail”
Also includes record of paupers in the 1820s

Wilson, Mary (Hoyt) (1809-1841)
Diary, Aug. 17, 1826-Mar.15, 1828. Deerfield, Mass.
1vol.

manuscript

19.5 cm

Sheldon II:389
Note: Diary of the 17-year-old daughter of Col. John Wilson, one of Deerfield’s leading
citizens. A rich social portrait, particularly of the activities of young women from Deerfield’s
social aristocracy (particularly Susan Willard). Describes social and domestic life at the Wilson
home in East Deerfield. Mentions singing school, the Reading Society, and social events at Dr.
Goodhue’s, Dr. W. S. Williams’s, Rev. Willard’s, Ephraim Williams’s, and Col. Stebbins’.
Describes a semester at the Academy. “Papa told me this morning that if I was a mind to I might
begin and go to the academy tomorrow which I readily assented to….” She studied chemistry,
astronomy and painting. Various books that she read are mentioned, including Benjamin
Silliman’s Tour. The diary includes several interesting entries such as Louise Tenney’s school at
Bloody Brook, Governor Lincoln’s visit to review the militia, and a description of a crowded
steamboat (the “Barnet”?) plying its way up the Connecticut, with “a bugle a playing.” Mary
boarded at the home of Widow Lucy Wells (wife of Quartus), when in Deerfield Center.
Wilson Family Papers, Box 1 folder 11a

Fuller-George-1822-1884-Travel-Journal-II.pdf.txt:perhaps the best in the journal. He then proceeds to Naples (visits Pompeii), Rome, and
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