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Frederick A. Henry
(1867-1949)
Captain Henry of Geauga

(Cleveland: The Gates Press, 1942)

  • Title Page   Preface
  • Contents
  • pp. 001-033  Chapters 01-02
  • pp. 034-066  Chapters 03-04

  • 1946 F. A. Henry paper

  • Transcriber's Comments




  • White's thesis (1931)   |   McKiernan's Rigdon bio. (1971)   |   Van Wagoner's Rigdon bio. (1994)
    Wm. H. Whitsitt's Rigdon bio. (1891)   |   C. M. Brewster's MS (145)   |   Criddle's essay (2005)
    Pioneer & General History of Geauga Co. (1880)   |   Memorial to the Pioneer Women (1896)

    Excerpt provided below, copyright 1942 by Frederick A. Henry

     






    C A P T A I N    H E N RY
    O F    G E A U G A


    A  Family  Chronicle



    BY

    FREDERICK A. HENRY












            CLEVELAND:  THE  GATES  PRESS        

    MCMXLII




     

    [ v ]



    Preface


    The following pages are intended to mirror a life which, though not great, had yet incident enough to have furnished forth a score of sensational romances; part enough in matters of public moment to enliven and explain not a few of the historian's chapters; worth enough to attract the intimacy of divers men of note, including a president of the United States; and personal charm enough to thrill ever and anon with numberless affectionate memories the filial pen that has essayed with diffidence this grateful task.

    During the last two years of my father's life, after the partial blindness which finally became total had come upon him, he narrated from time to time at my request, and I forthwith set down as nearly as possible in his own words, the story of much of his early life. As long, too, as he himself by sight and touch could guide pen or pencil, he wrote what he humorously called "feeling" letters and reminiscences of log house days and other periods of his life. He was unable of course to read what he had thus written, and it therefore required correction at the hands of others. In the portions of these writings that I reproduce, such changes as were not made during his lifetime and under his own direction I have sparingly supplied, being careful however to make none that he himself would not certainly have indicated if his sight had not failed.

    From these sources and from the autobiographical material to be gleaned here and there from his letters, diaries, official reports, contributions to the press, and other miscellaneous writings, I conceived the idea after his death of piecing together a fairly connected account of his life as told by himself. But upon trial this project proved not to be feasible, for the results were too palpably patchwork, without unity, completeness, or finish. It was with reluctance, however, that I abandoned this plan; for autobiography, whatever its defects, must be acknowledged, in its use of the first person, to afford a liveliness of style, and in its unconscious revelations, a vividness of portraiture, to which the life of the same person when written by another can not be expected to attain. My father's style, moreover, though not elegant, was both forcible and interesting, and the autobiographical fragments already mentioned are such as to inspire the wish that they formed a continuous whole.

    This wish grew even stronger as I came more and more to realize the disadvantages under which a son must labor in writing his father's life. He is confronted at the outset with the petty but awkward dilemma of either writing impersonally as of a stranger or else of obtruding his own personality in every direct reference to that of his subject. The one course is as unnatural as the other is tedious. How greatly do the younger Tennyson's constant though scarcely avoidable repetitions of the phrase "my father" interfere with the liveliness of his excellent biography of the laureate.


     


    [ vi ]



    Again, the son is always under the suspicion and perhaps the temptation of not discovering "the nakedness of his father" respecting any fault or frailty which might seem, however slightly, to dishonor him. The consciousness as well as the solution of such difficulties is expressed in that greatest of biographies, Boswell's Life of Johnson, a work which my father often read and greatly relished. "Wherever narrative is necessary to explain, connect, and supply, I furnish it," says Boswell in his Introduction, "to the best of my abilities;"

    but in the chronological series of Johnson's life, which I trace as distinctly as I can, year by year, I produce, Wherever it is in my power, his own minutes, letters, or conversation, being convinced that this method is more lively, and will make my readers better acquainted with him, than even most of those who actually knew him, but could know him only partially.... And he will be seen as he really was; for I profess to write not his panegyric, which must be all praise, but his Life.

    On this point, Boswell quotes from Johnson's Rambler:

    If the biographer writes from personal knowledge, and makes haste to gratify the public curiosity, there is danger lest his interest, his fear, his gratitude, or his tenderness, overpower his fidelity, and tempt him to conceal, if not to invent.

    The greatest of biographers, then, has served as my monitor in these respects, far below its classic model, in the eminence of both author and subject, though my modest work must rank. By what means and with what success I have met the special difficulties of closest kinship between the biographer and his subject I must let the results themselves reveal.

    For the privilege, always graciously accorded, of quoting from various books and periodicals things written by, or about, or in some way related to my subject, and incorporated herein with specific credit noted in loco, I record here generally, without needless recapitulation, my sincere thanks to those in proprietary control of the sources cited.

    Finally I may add, in justification for including homely minutiae of household, farm, and business affairs, and for excursions into ancestral reminiscence and local history, that this book was projected for the family, the friends and associates in various connections, and especially for the succeeding generations of him who is its theme, with no serious thought of its being read or published noticeably further afield. Even so, no other means of honoring the memory of the dead can be so effective or durable as the intimate formal biography, where the worth and interest of the subject warrant such commemoration; for of my father's name and merit it must soon be said, as of all the sons of men,

                           ...neque
    si chartae sileant quod bene feceris
    mercedem tuleris.
                       
    Geauga Lake, Ohio
    June, 1942



     

    Contents


    Chapter
    01 Family Tree and Fruitage
    02 Log House Days
    03 Reminiscences of Boyhood
    04 Fanaticism and Follies
    05 Working and Learning
    06 Under Principal Garfield
    07 Under Colonel Garfield
    08 Circling Eastern Kentucky
    09 Cumberland Gap to the Mississippi
    10 Fierce Fighting Before Vicksburg
    11 Provost judge Under Colonel Pardee
    12 Marriage to Sophia Williams
    13 With Bride in Baton Rouge
    14 A Fresh Start in Ohio
    15 Mailbags and Politics
    16 A Friend at Court
    17 Guarding the Mails
    18 Defamed and Vindicated
    19 Politics, Work and Play
    20 Four Years in Cleveland
    21 Political Piloting
    22 Aide to the Commander in Chief
    23 Marshal in the Mourning Capital
    24 Scapegoat for the Star Route Fiasco
    25 Farming and a Startling Scene-shift
    26 Railroading in the Southwest
    27 Irksome Exile
    28 Happier Days in Dallas
    29 Sacrificing for Children's Education
    30 Longing for God's Country
    31 Final Years in Texas
    32 Restless at the Farm
    33 Hunting a Fugitive in Brazil
    34 A Second Suspect
    35 Two Birds with One Stone
    36 Home and Hiram
    37 An Absconder at Trail's End
    38 Extradition's Aftermath
    39 Old Things and New
    40 Crises Public and Domestic
    41 Hinsdale and Pardee
    42 Corporations as Bondsmen
    43 Expansion Stifles Anti-Imperialism
    44 All in the Day's Work
    45 Monuments
    46 Religion, Politics, and Football
    47 Texas Ten Years After
    48 joy and Mourning under the Maples
    49 Putting off the Harness
    50 Where Every Prospect Pleases
    51 The Farm in Winter, and Vicksburg Revisited
    52 Failing Sight and Thronging Memories
    53 Cheerful and Uncomplaining
    54 Whither the World Must Follow
    Index


    Page
    001
    020
    034
    050
    067
    083
    100
    116
    134
    149
    165
    184
    196
    208
    218
    233
    242
    256
    266
    274
    288
    300
    311
    323
    334
    353
    367
    376
    386
    400
    412
    425
    438
    450
    460
    472
    483
    494
    507
    519
    530
    542
    555
    571
    584
    604
    614
    625
    640
    651
    666
    678
    694
    711
    727

    Illustrations


    Captain Henry of Geauga

    John and Polly (Jaqua) Henry, and Children: Charles, Maria Goodsell, Newton, Eliza Brown, Edward, Ann Brewster, Simon.

    Hiram Commencement. Members of the Faculty, and Ladies, of the Western Reserve Eclectic Institute, 1858: Lucretia Rudolph, J. M. Atwater, J. H. Rhodes, Hannah S. Morton, H. W. Everest, Mrs. Everest, J. A. Garfield

    "Deacon" Henry Brewster and Wife Ann (Sister of Charles E. Henry, who lived with them at Bridge Creek 1856-1861). Sophia Williams and Charles E. Henry, Students at Hiram 1858-1861

    Frontispiece

    010



    078




    090
    Charles E. Henry as Sergeant (1861-2), and as Lieutenant (1862-1864), Company A, 42d Ohio Volunteer Infantry at Young's Point, La.

    Lieutenant Colonel Don A. Pardee, Provost Marshal, District of Baton Rouge, La. (1863-4), and his Assistant First Lieutenant Charles E. Henry, Provost judge

    Frederick and Martia (Underwood) Williams, and Children: Sophia Henry, Major Frederick Augustus Williams, Mary, Annis Newton
    178



    182



    186
    Charles E. Henry and Bride during their Wedding journey (November, 1864). Steamboat Landing, Baton Rouge, La

    Charles E. Henry and Daughters Marcia and Mary ("Babe"). Mrs. C. E. Henry and son Frederick (September, 1876)

    Marshal Charles E. Henry, of the District of Columbia (1881-2)

    Captain Henry's Lifelong Earliest Friends: James A. Garfield, B. A. Hinsdale, J. H. Rhodes, Joseph Rudolph, Don A. Pardee

    Texas and Pacific Railway Claim Department: "Colonel" Henry, and Office Assistants Arbuckle, Prudhomme, Quick (Chief Clerk), and Wright, Dallas, Texas, August, 1889
    200


    270


    308


    340



    390
    Captain Henry, Mrs. Henry, and Son Jimmy (New Orleans, March, 1890)

    Henry Homestead at Geatiga Lake, Geauga County, Ohio. Map of 400 Acres Captain Henry Acquired (1865-1882), his Birthplace and Lifelong Home

    Captain Charles E. Henry (last photograph, 1900)

    Mrs. Sophia M. Henry, Widow of Captain Charles E. Henry (last photograph, 1910)

    406


    430



    628

    720



     

    [ 1 ]




    I. Family Tree and Fruitage


    The Scotch-Irish country in the province of Ulster, whence sprang the Henry line that is herein dealt with, is substantially the Northern Ireland of today. The region so peopled comprised, with some overflow, the coastal counties of Londonderry, Antrim, and Down, and southwest of them the inland counties of Tyrone, Armagh, and Fermanagh. Of these, Tyrone and Londonderry occupy the area encircled by the broadly curving valleys of the Foyle and the Bann, which flow northerly by the ports of Derry and Coleraine, thirty miles apart, through lake or estuary into the sea.

    In 1610, under James I, most of this territory became crown land, by confiscation from the rebellious Irish nobility -- an exercise of arbitrary power which, whether wise or unwise, has kept the Irish question white-hot in British politics for over three centuries. The famous Plantation of Ulster ensued, under royal favor, and soon repeopled the region, chiefly with thrifty and intelligent Scottish Presbyterian colonists, whose descendants became the celebrated Scotch-Irish -- a race tall, angular, and sinewy in body; in habit pious, opinionated, and untidy; but, on the whole, fitted both physically and mentally to excel.

    A century later, in 1718-1720, a prolonged drouth, a series of epidemics, and a depressed state of the linen export trade, together with the long endured and ever increasing oppression of extortionate rents and compulsory religious conformity, induced wholesale migrations of Ulstermen to America. 1 Though most of the Scotch-Irish landed in Boston, and settled mainly in the frontier towns of Massachusetts and New Hampshire, many were scattered through the colonies from Maine to South Carolina. Viewed by both Puritan and Cavalier with British prejudice against the "Irishmen," they nevertheless became in half a century a most important element of the population in both numbers and influence. 2

    __________
    1 The romance of this movement is nowhere more vividly or truthfully portrayed than in the Reverend Elijah Kellogg's Good Old Times. It is pleasant to recall that my boyhood copy of this stirring tale, when in 1880 I lent it to "Grandma" Garfield in Mentor, gave her such delight, with its pictures of pioneer struggles very like her own, that for some time afterwards, in token of her grateful regard for the lender, she treasured in her Bible some of his youthful letters to her grandsons.
    2 Says the Reverend Doctor Maclntosh in his "The Making of the Ulsterman" (The Berea Quarterly, October, 1908, at page 9): "The plantation of the Scot into Ulster kept for the world the essential and best features of the lowlander. But the vast change gave birth to and trained a somewhat new and distinct man, soon to be needed for a great task which only the Ulsterman could do; and that work --

     


    2                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    The patronymic Henry appears in the early eighteenth century town or county records of every colony where the Scotch-Irish settled. The petition of March 26, 1718, signed by over two hundred "Inhabitants of the North of Ireland," to Governor Shute of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, for "suitable encouragement" of "their inclinations to transport" themselves and their families to New England, bears the signatures of Robert and James Henry, Robert Hendre, and William and Robert Hendry. From eight different towns, moreover, in Tyrone, Londonderry, Antrim, and Down, nine commissioners and ruling elders of the name Henry, though none apparently of the name Hendry, figure in the records of presbytery and synod in Ulster between 1691 and 1718. In the next twenty years there appear on this side of the ocean, in the Massachusetts Bay Colony alone, at least nine distinct, though not necessarily unrelated, Henry families, besides one or more of the name Hendry. Like-sounding when uttered with the Celtic burr, the two names are perhaps identical in origin, as indeed, by the common dropping of the "d" in Hendry, they are often indistinguishable today.

    Descended from one of these Scotch-Irish Henrys in Massachusetts (for I set aside as incredible, the tradition current in one of the remote female branches of this family, 1 that their progenitor was "the Regicide Whalley, who went by the name of William Henry to evade recognition by the officers of Charles II"), CHARLES EUGENE HENRY, the subject of this narrative, was of the sixth generation of his family in America; the line being: William, Robert, John, Simon, John, Charles. The earliest record bears date an even century before his birth. It discloses that on June 24th, 1735, William Henry, husbandman, of Stow, Massachusetts, purchased from Nathaniel Page, of Lunenburg, one hundred and sixteen acres of land, besides eight acres of meadow, in the northeastern part of the latter town.

    A few years later, his eldest son Robert Henry, also of Stow, removed with his wife Eleanor and their first-born child John to that part of the neighboring town of Groton which was later set off as Shirley. Sometime after Robert's death in 1759, John, who became by occupation a mason and builder of chimneys, removed to Columbia, then a part of Lebanon, Connecticut, and known as Lebanon Crank. There he married Mary, youngest daughter of the Reverend William Gager (Yale College, 1721) and of Mary Allen, his third wife. There, too, their first child, Simon Henry, was born on November 27, 1766.

    _________
    1 Genealogy of the Fuller Families Descending from Robert Fuller, by Newton Fuller, of New London, Connecticut, 1898; page 11.

    _________
    which none save God, the Guide, foresaw -- was with Puritan to work the revolution which gave humanity this republic."

    Voluminous lists of persons, places, ships, etc., concerned in the movement of Ulstermen to America, appear in Charles K. Bolton's Scotch, Irish Pioneers in Ulster and America (Boston: Bacon and Brown; 1910), and in Stimner G. Wood's Ulster Scots and Blandford Scouts (published by the author, West Medway, Massachusetts: 1928).

     


                          SIMON HENRY  AND  RHODA PARSONS                      3


    At that time Lebanon was distinguished as the site of the Reverend Eleazer Wheelock's Indian Charity School, which Joseph Brant, the Mohawk warrior, then a youth, had recently entered as a pupil, and which, by evolution and transfer to New Hampshire, finally became Dartmouth College. Lebanon gained further renown, a few years later, from the efficient War Office there maintained under the patriotic eye of Connecticut's bluff old Revolutionary governor, Jonathan Trumbull. From this town John Henry had a brief record of service in the Revolution. He then removed successively to Bolton, Andover, and finally to Enfield, Connecticut, where he filled divers minor town offices, and died in 1819, aged seventy-six years. His widowed mother Eleanor had died there in 1807; his wife in 1812.

    Simon Henry married in the same town, in 1792, Rhoda Parsons, who, born March 13, 1774, was fourth of the nine children of John and Ann (Osborn) Parsons and came of most respectable ancestry. 1 His mother and wife thus brought into the Henry line of descent two successive strains of fine old Puritan stock, which was henceforth to preponderate over his father's vigorous Scotch-Irish blood. The young couple removed shortly to Middlefield, Massachusetts, and thence to Washington, Berkshire County, where for a quarter-century they cultivated their farm and reared a family of ten children. Here Simon Henry was repeatedly chosen moderator of the town meetings and first of the three selectmen elected annually, besides discharging many other public functions down to the very date of his removal to Ohio. In 1812-1813, a war-time period of especial responsibility, he was sent to the legislature, or General Court, and soon afterwards his three oldest sons served their country in the second war with Great Britain.

    Notwithstanding this prosperity amidst the lovely but sterile Berkshire Hills, New Connecticut (as the Western Reserve in Ohio was then often

    _________
    1 She could number among her forefathers Deacon Benjamin Parsons, and Richard Vore, as well as John Keep and John Leonard, both of whom were among the six persons killed at Pecowsick Brook on March 26, 1676, when, as they and others were proceeding peacefully with their families, under a strong but craven armed escort, to church in Springfield, Massachusetts,

    Seven Indians, and one without a gun,
    Caused Captain Nixon and forty men to run.

    In her veins, moreover, coursed the mingled blood of Robert Pease, William Warriner, Richard Montague, Thomas Marshfield, and of Deacon Samuel Chapin, in whose widely copied statue, as "The Puritan," by St. Gaudens, the city of Springfield publicly and worthily commemorates New England's pioneers. She descended, too, from Robert Goodell, John Adams (not the president), William Vassall, John Osborn, Richard Oldage, Begat Eggleston, John Talcott, John Stiles, and other worthies among the first settlers of New England.

    2 Among other committees to which he was assigned was one to "perambulate Peru": i. e. to join a representative of that town in walking along the boundarv line between it and Washington and in repairing or restoring the monuments or freshening the blazes on the trees which marked its course. Another was to "reseat the meeting-house," meaning thereby not the changing of the pews, but the assigning of the church sittings among the members and parishioners according to the respect due and the tribute received in each case.

     


    4                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    called) appealed to their imagination as a land of greater promise. In an obituary notice which Father wrote of one of the earliest pioneers of this region, Rachel McConotighey, the widow of his uncle William Henry, for the Chagrin Falls Exponent of September 13, 1888, he said:

    During the years... 1815, 1816, and 1817, settlers came in great numbers from the East, and the somber forest that covered a score of counties south of Lake Erie was dotted here and there with clearings. The burning brush and log heaps became a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. In every township one or two churches and half a score of schoolhouses sprang up as if by magic, and social life, together with township and county government, became more marked.

    Nearly a quarter of the people of the town of Washington emigrated west-ward in the decade 1811-1820, and Simon Henry, anxious to provide for the settlement of his sons, procured from Simon Perkins, of Warren, in exchange for the Massachusetts farm, a much larger tract in Bainbridge, Geauga County, Ohio. To Ohio, therefore, with his wife and eight children (two of the older ones, Orrin and John, having been sent ahead the year before) he removed in the autumn of 1817, a year described in Villard's John Brown (at page nine) as one not only of extreme scarcity of money "but of the greatest distress for want of provisions known during the Nineteenth Century."

    His terse diary of their forty-five days' journey 1 into the heart of the wilderness begins: "We started from home Sept. 18th on Thursday in the afternoon and staid at Wm. Noble's." The next night, at New Lebanon, they put up at Pierce's tavern, where the charge "$1.57" seems well worth recording. With a daily progress of about fifteen miles, their only long stops en route were a three days' visit at Smyrna with Rhoda's brothers John and Elam Parsons, and four days at Madison, near their journey's end, to await word from their sons at the new location before proceeding farther on the main road west or venturing from it into any doubtful byway. Finally on November 1 the last entry reads, "Saturday night home." From the Berkshire Hills to the Western Reserve they had come nearly six hundred miles, but their pilgrimage began and ended at "home." The advent of the Henrys is thus recounted in the Pioneer and General History of Geauga County (page 137):

    In Washington they were neighbors of George and Robert Smith and John Fowler, who had preceded them to Ohio by a year or two. George Smith's family were their nearest neighbors, and when they parted with them it was without hope of meeting them again. Two years after the departure of the Smiths, they decided to try their fortunes in the wilds of Ohio, so, bidding good-by to their friends, they started on the wearisome forty days' journey.

    _________
    1 They traveled via New Lebanon, Albany, Union, Sharon, Middlefield, Cooperstown, Sherburne, Smyrna, Nelson, Tully, Skaneateles, Geneva, Canandaigua, Bloomfield, Avon, Batavia, Btiffalo, Fredonia, Northeast, Erie, Conneaut, Saybrook, Madison, Painesville, Mentor, Chester.

     


                                PIONEERS  IN  BAINBRIDGE                             5


    The last night of the journey they stayed at Hudson's Corners in Chester. Between there and the center of Bainbridge there was but one house, and that without a tenant (built and afterwards occupied by Gideon Russell of Russell township). Orrin, the oldest son, met them in Chester with two fresh teams, and the Smiths and Fowlers came up soon after and kept them company through the day.... With George Smith and Simon Henry, especially, was this a glad meeting. They [had] worked together while young men, clearing their rugged mountain farms, and when, after a separation that both thought final, George Smith rode up to them, those men of fifty years could only clasp hands while the starting tears expressed what their tongues refused to tell.

    With the help of fresh cattle, their own jaded ones were enabled to be at nightfall within a half mile of their future home. This now smooth meadow was then a black ash swamp, and after struggling over roots and through mud till about halfway across, the wagon settled hopelessly down in the mire, and in spite of all the drivers could do, had to be abandoned for the night. The mother and smaller children were carried to dry land by the grown-up sons; the girls and Calvin (a boy of nine) had been sent off before dark on the horses of their old neighbors, and were already among friends. Packing on their backs the necessary articles for cooking, they went on foot to the cabin which the sons had built, whose ample chimney gave them a view of the tree-tops waving in the November wind. They were the ninth family in the township, and with the three young men and as many young women, made an important accession to the isolated settlement.

    The first settlement of Bainbridge township dates from 1811, with the coming of David McConoughey, of Blandford, Massachusetts. He was followed quickly by Jasper Lacy and Gamaliel H. Kent, of Suffield, Connecticut. In 1812 came Alexander Osborn, of Blandford, and two years later George and Robert Smith, of Washington. Enos D. Kingsley emigrated from the adjacent town of Becket, Massachusetts, in 1816, and was joined the next year by his neighbors, Joseph Ely, of Middlefield, and John Fowler and Simon Henry, of Washington. These were followed in 1818 by Deacon Jonas H. Childs, of Becket, Justus Bissell, of Middlefield, and by Daniel McFarland and Philip Haskins, of Adams, Massachusetts.

    Surrounded thus by old neighbors, the Henrys for many years dwelt peacefully in their new home, till Simon Henry, often chosen a justice of the peace or a township trustee, died on June 26, 1854, in his eighty-eighth year, having survived his wife by seven years. His grandchildren remembered him as a stoop-shouldered, blue-eyed old man, with horny hands forever gathering highway pebbles into capacious coat pockets and lodging the same in some rut farther along his farm front; or, dim of sight, rising from his chair by the doorstep to accost some passer-by with a commanding, "Well, who are you?" while, with foot or hand on the wheel of the traveler's vehicle, he detained him willy-nilly till the inquirer's curiosity was appeased. His wife Rhoda, black-eyed, keen-minded, and kind-hearted, added her contribution to the strain of vigorous, assertive personality which they handed on.

     


    6                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    Their son John Henry, father of the subject of this book, was born in 1796, and had just attained to man's estate on the family's arrival at their new home in Ohio. The lad, it is said, had been selected by Mr. John Parsons, of Enfield, Connecticut, from among his daughter Rhoda's large family, to go back home with him from Berkshire and attend school in the older community; thus lightening the mother's growing burden, while enlarging the opportunity of one by no means the least promising of her children. Afterwards, when his father in 1813 was sitting in the General Court, John, then at Latin School near Boston, witnessed with him the great reception tendered to Commodore Bainbridge, on the latter's arrival there in February, with his flagship Constitution, after capturing the British frigate, Java. Inspired no doubt by this spectacle of martial glory, and chafing withal beneath fraternal gibes

    That one small head could carry all he knew, the lad ran away at seventeen and enlisted in the Third United States Artillery at Hudson, New York. His mother, however, gave her husband no peace for two or three months till he had procured the boy's discharge by writ of habeas corpus on the ground of his minority. From the initials "L.A." (Light Artillery) on his uniform, his soldier brothers, still teasing the inactive, bookish youth, whose career as a light artillerist was thus ingloriously terminated, sought according to their wont to nickname him the "Lazy Ass." But the name failed to stick; and, showing how they actually rated him, Orrin, the oldest brother, when directed three years later by their father to take one of the boys and go on ahead of the family to Ohio, chose John for comrade and coworker in their lonely and laborious task of home-building far away in the wilderness.

    The family had hardly settled in the new country, when the young scholar John Henry was finding welcome relief from the endless toilsome grappling with the forest by "keeping" school in winter. While thus engaged in the older settlement of Canfield, Ohio, some forty miles to the southeast, whither he had been called to teach in a select school for advanced pupils, including some with experience as teachers, he met and on the first of July, 1819, he married one of his teacher-pupils, Polly, the seventh child of Captain Simon and Ruth (Hanchet) Jaqua.

    Born in Salisbury, Litchfield County, Connecticut, on May 1, 1800, Polly Jaqua had come with her parents to Johnston, Trumbull County, Ohio, in September, 1804. Her father, said to have been a minute man in the Revolution (though I have never found any record of his service), was the first justice of the peace in that township; and his father, Aaron Jaqua, whose wife was Rebecca House, of Lebanon, had been a Connecticut soldier and "clerk" in the French Wars. The absurd tradition, often repeated by their romantic granddaughter Polly, that her "honored father was descended on

     


                                          JAQUA  LINEAGE                                       7


    the one side from Lord House, and on the other from Cardinal Jaques," if not always implicitly credited, stood at least unchallenged, until one of her grandnephews, who had taken orders in the Episcopal Church, became curious about his jaqua ancestry. Thereupon the scandalous cardinal's pretensions were speedily and indignantly shattered on the rock of sacerdotal celibacy. It is perhaps needless to add that neither branch of this family legend derives any support from the actual records of Simon Jaqua's honorable New England lineage. 1

    To some, indeed, Polly's vitality and Gallic impulsiveness lent color to the notion (derived originally, it may be, from the peculiar surname) that she came somehow of French descent, if not from the dubious prelate, then certainly from Huguenot stock. Old Doctor David Shipherd, for example, benignant and oracular, once flattered her prankish boy Edward by descanting upon his "Huguenot birthright of industry, longevity, the moles on your back" (he had seen the boys of both households "in swimming" together in the Chagrin), "your music, persistence of accomplishment, and liberality."

    But though the Jaquas came to Connecticut from North Kingston, Rhode Island, where indeed the Tourgees, Ayraults, and other French Huguenots found asylum after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes on October 18, 1685, the family settlement there antedates by some years that crisis in the world's history. At least four of the name Jaques (for so it was originally spelled) fought in King Philip's War, wherein the famous capture of the Narragansetts' fort in the Great Swamp Fight of December 19, 1675, occurred at South Kingston, only a few miles south of the seventeen hundred and forty acres granted on January 1, 1672, to a quartet of coadventurers, including Polly's ancestor, Thomas Jaques, one of the four. 2

    Of Polly Jaqua's grandfather, a curious relic still extant is a small leather-bound book of Gospel Sonnets or Spiritual Songs (Glasgow, 1760), much worn, and inscribed in a clerkly hand, "Aaron Jaqua's Book, a Present from his son William Tupper, in the Army of the United States, Jany 5th, 1782." First of these gospel sonnets is an old song entitled "Smoking Spiritualized," to which a second part is newly added. Each part has five pious stanzas, and each stanza ends with the admonitory refrain, "Thus think, and smoke tobacco." In The Oxford Book of English Verse, selection Number 390 (a poor variant of Part I) omits the most interesting stanza,

    _________
    1 The Jaqua (or Jaques) line, beginning with the immigrant to America, runs: Henry, John, Abraham, Thomas, Ebenezer, Aaron, Simon, Polly. That of Aaron Jaqua's wife: Samuel (son of the Reverend John House, of Eastwill, County Kent, England), Samuel, Jr., Nathaniel, Rebecca. That of Simon Jaqua's wife: Deacon Thomas Hanchett, Deacon John, John, Ebenezer, Amos (Hanchet), Ruth.

    2 Aaron Jaques, uncle of the Aaron Jaqua who married Rebecca House, served in that war tinder Captain Jonathan Remington, of Cambridge, Massachusetts, -- a circumstance corroborative of other evidence that the Rhode Island family descended from Henry Jaques, who emigrated from Wiltshire, England, to Newbury, Massachusetts, in 1640. In Shakespeare's "As You Like It," a Jaques, it will be remembered, attended upon the exiled duke in the Forest of Arden.

     


    8                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    which alludes to the old time smocker's habit of burning out his clay pipe in the fire to make it draw:

    And when the pipe grows foul within,
    Think on thy soul defil'd with sin;
         For then the fire
         It does require.
    Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
    The oddly blended odor of sanctity and nicotine, whereof Aaron Jaqua's memory is thus redolent, comports easily with the quaint fondness of his son Simon for Swedenborg's Heaven and Hell, a copy of which, early supplied to the latter's son-in-law, may have infused a deeper mystical flavor into John Henry's sturdy Methodism.

    Even more strongly in another particular did Aaron jaqua influence the lives of his descendants. After the early death, in 1782, of his daughter-in-law, Charity Grinnell, he counseled his widowed son, Simon, to choose for a second wife, Ruth Hanchet, "because," as he prudently observed, "the Hanchets live forever." This young woman, the daughter of Amos and Hannah (Holly) Hanchet, of Salisbury, Connecticut, and seventh in the line of Deacon Thomas, of Wethersfield, did indeed so happily unite in her own person the qualities of piety and longevity, as amply to justify her father-in-law's observation, construed either carnally or spiritually.

    In the flesh Ruth Jaqua lived to be ninety-one, and her daughter Polly to be nearly eighty-one; while each, during a long widowhood and almost until death, tended her own dairy throughout the week, and on Sunday journeyed horseback some miles to church. As throwing light on the personalities of these sterling pioneer women, whose scant advantages meant for them no lack of faculty of the non-academic sort, I quote verbatim the following letter, from mother to daughter, written from Crawford County, Pennsylvania, in the former's seventieth year, after she had visited the younger woman's rapidly growing family in Geauga County, Ohio, by horseback journey past their old Trumbull County home, sixty miles each way on the forest-girt roads:

    Followfield March 10 1832.                     
    Deare Daughter

    Throw the goodness of an all wise
    Being I am in the land of the liveing yet
    And enjoy my health very well Praised be
    The Lord for his goodness to me --
    I yest Receivd your leter dated febury 5 was very
    Glad to here from you it being the first I have
    Heard from you sence i came from your house
    You speake of troubles trust in the Lord he will
    Suport you yes in six and in seven he will
    Not forsake you take courage then his Grace is
    Suficient for you -- O my Child I feel for you and
    Yours -- But to tel you of my journey home


     


                                MOTHER  AND  GRANDMOTHER                             9


    When I got to Johnsone ponys back was hurt I
    Had to stay there 2 weeks A great meting
    Cauld 4 days meeting began thursday Continued
    Til monday morning Prayer meeting every night
    & every morning before sun rise -- Wensday evenig
    Before that meeting Mr Weeb caried me
    Up to here Elder Eddy preach and
    Carroline Bates was maried to A Dicson
    Next day the prispoterioti Meeting Began Mr. Johnson's
    Tow sons one Daughter was Converted to God
    Welthy hine Hirum hine Lucy ann Dickson
    Harret Hill and more to the amount of 40
    Charyty came here the first day of February made me
    A short viset it was very pleaseing to me
    I should be very glad to have a viset from you
    Mr Joseph Leech has lost there oldest Boy he
    Died happy in the lord, there little girl exsperienced
    Religion & tinited with the Church
    Brother Hitchcock is to preach here today
    And I must Conclude Wishing you health and prostperity
    My Respects to your family and all enquierin friends
    Ruth Jaqua              

    The following, written by her daughter seven years later, while both were visiting in Cuyahoga County, Ohio, is probably a mere memorandum rather than a letter:

    Orange, May 7th 1839 --    
    At cousin Hanchet's with my dear aged mother and her granddaughter Elen -- who is very feeble with liver coinplaint -- we have sent to Cleavland for medicine hope it will have a good effect

    Mother will be seventy seven next November she has rode horseback 60 miles to see myself and family -- arrived last tuesday -- wednesday T was 39 years old-thirsday we all attended the funeral of Amasa Russ -- died of inflamation in head -- yesterday Monday we started to visit a son of uncle John H[anchet] M. B. who died April 24th 1837 aged 73 -- found them well pleasant family -- call'd at good B. Fords -- had short and good visit b F prayed powerful 1 -- had a melting time -- with flowing tears. I remembered the happy times when we had met in days of other years -- feel if I could enjoy such privileges I could sincerely say fearless of Hell and gastly death I break through every foe -- The wings of love and arms of faith would bear me conquer through.

    My dear Father Simon Jaqua was born June llth, 1754 and died June 25th 1825 -- aged 71.
    Polly Henry    

    Before his death, the early date of which is thus carefully minuted, Simon Jaqua had not only somewhat tinctured his son-in-law with Swedenborgianism,

    _________
    1 Brother Ford's supplications were indeed "powerful." He would jump as high as the table and shotit loud enough to be heard a mile away. "We children," said Aunt Eliza, "were scared when he prayed in the old log house; Father never prayed that way.

     


    10                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    as already intimated, but had taught him also the elements of land mensuration and the convenient use of decimals therein. Under such influences the young teacher and surveyor, John Henry, continued in Johnston for a period of nearly four years, during which his wife Polly bore him two sons, christened appropriately Simon Jaqua and John Newton.

    From Johnston to Bainbridge, thirty-five miles due west, they removed in March, 1823; and for the rest of their lives made their home on the north half of lot twenty-seven, tract three -- a part of Simon Henry's long strip of land, lying remote from his own residence and just west of the Aurora fork of the Chagrin River. Five years later, the father, continuing the partition of his lands among his sons, put this parcel of a hundred acres at John's disposal, conveying it on February 16, 1828, as follows: fifteen acres at the west end, by John's request, to his brother Calvin, in pursuance of some dealings between them; fifty acres at the east end to John himself, for the consideration of one hundred dollars; and the remaining thirty-five acres to the same, for the consideration of love and affection. This ancestral farm of eighty-five acres John eventually conveyed to his sons Simon and Charles. Simon sold his south half to Charles, in whose family accordingly both parcels have since remained.

    Besides the two sons in Johnston, seven children were born in Bainbridge in the fifteen years from 1826 to 1841: William Ray Babcock, Mary Maria, Martha Ann, Emma Eliza, Charles Eugene, Harriet Eliza, and Edward Everett. Of these, William (or Babcock, as the child's father has it) and Emma died in infancy. Nearly two years after the former's death, John Henry penned this tribute in the back of his Methodist class-meeting record book:

    Monday Dec. 7th 1829.     
    Happy is that people whose God is the Lord, my soul says amen today for my enjoyment is sweet in my Savior! O the bliss of Heaven! Thrice blessed bliss inspiring hope to cheer me through this gloomy vale. By faith I view those blessed abodes, those sacred realms of eternal day, where the saints of old, Moses, Elijah and Enoch are reaping their great reward. The Apostles and Martyrs of old surrounded by the many thousands who were not ashamed of their bonds here in this world are now joining their voices in songs of Redeeming Love. Yea, from the hoary Patriarch to the sweet smiling Infant, are all joining their acclamations of Praise to him who Died on Calvary. Yes, my sweet little B__k, I trust thou art there and hast forgotten thy last suffering day when thy parent's heart was wrung with anguish on account of thy pain. I dandled thee in fond affection on my knee here in this world. But my Savior hath taken thee to his lovely bosom, there to enjoy the rich provision of Heaven. Sweet babe, thou wert a choice Loan of Heaven bestowed on me for a short time. But the Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the Name of the Lord. The Lord hath taken thee from the evil to come and thou hast no more to suffer, thy ashes sleep in peace and thy immortal spirit is soaring on Cherubic wings through the realms of endless day.

     


    [ facing 10 ]




    John and Polly Jaqua Henry (bottom) and children: Charles (top)
    Maria Goodsell and Newton (middle) Eliza Brown & Edward (left)
    Ann Brewster and Simon (right)


     


                            STATE  IN  GRACE  AND  IN  LIFE                         11


    The same book records the attendance at eighty class meetings from June 28, 1828, to May 1836. 1 The class comprised twenty-one members much of the time; but by deaths, removals, withdrawals, and one expulsion, it dwindled to a third of that number and finally flickered out. Some of the members came from the adjacent townships of Aurora and Solon, over the county lines. The "State in Grace" of each one is marked "B," perhaps for Baptized; the "State in Life," "M" or "S." Heading the lists of names throughout the record are John and Polly Henry. Then follows Joseph Witter (a Revolutionary soldier and one of the guards at the execution of Major Andre) with his wife Hannah. 2

    John Henry's worldly condition at this epoch is indicated by a tax receipt of November 30, 1831, which discloses a charge of $1.464 for that year on his eighty-five acres of land, and $0.504 on his chattels; making a total of $1.968, which, less road tax worked, left a balance of $1.33 paid by him in money. Trivial as this exaction now seems, it was then more burdensome than the far heavier taxes of today; and with the growing public needs of the new community, the burden was bound to increase rapidly. Between 1831 and 1835 the tax valuation of this farm rose from $163 to $240, probably implying the erection meanwhile of the split-log house hereinafter described. The tax rate fluctuated from $9 per thousand in 1831, and $5.50 in 1835, to $10.48 1/3 in 1837.

    The civic side of John Henry's life is further illustrated by a certificate dated April 17, 1830, and signed by Aaron Squire, Simon Henry, and Enos Kingsley, of Bainbridge, as township trustees, appointing him supervisor of highways in District Number 9, a humble but exacting office to which he was probably often called. Teacher's certificates were also issued to him by George Wilber, of Auburn, and O. Henry, on January 21, 1832; by David Shipherd and M. Henry, of Bainbridge, on January 14-19, 1833; and by Nelson Eggleston and S. D. Kelley, of Aurora, on November 8, 1833. For twenty-nine terms, in all, he is said to have taught school, not

    _________
    1 During this period the conference and circuit were thus officered: presiding elders, William Swayze (1828) and Ira Eddy (1830); circuit preachers, Ignatius H. Sackett and Cornelius Jones (1828), John Chandler and John McLean (1829), Caleb Brown and John Ferris (1830), Thomas Carr and Lorenzo D. Prosser (1833); class leaders, John Henry (1828-1831, 1833-1836) and Jarvis McConoughey (1831-1833). John Crawford, circuit preacher, had previously certified at Bainbridge, on March 5, 1828, "that John Henry is an acceptable member of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and a Class Leader in Cleveland Circuit, Pittsburgh Conference."
    2 Also Abraham and Laura Witter, Lucius and Hannah Eggleston, Harvey and Catherine Waldo, and James H. (or J. Harvey) and Cornelia Henry. The last named were neighbors of John Henry, but not akin to him. They are marked as having moved away after the meeting of June 12, 1831, but a relative, Reuben Henry, afterwards lived in the vicinity for many years.
    Married members, whose consorts apparently had not joined, were Jarvis McConoughey, Fanny Bull, Sally Herrington, Harriet A. Prior, and Lewis Olney. Of the single "State in Life" were William Witter and Elvira Woodward, who, however, were joined in wedlock in 1830; also Amelia M. Bull, Amelia Ann Herrington, and Maria, Sophia, Lucy J., and Eliza Ann Robbins. Abraham and Laura Witter moved


     


    12                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    only in his own and surrounding townships, but also, because of the higher pay in older settlements, as far away as Crawford County, Pennsylvania, near the last home of his widowed mother-in-law, Ruth jaqua, and her daughter Drusilla, of whose husband, David McGranahan, uncle of the hymnist James McGranahan, he was very fond.

    A rough plat, made by John Henry, on February 18, 1833, of Bainbridge School District Number 1, where he lived, locates the farms of his neighbors, Graham, Giles, William Henry, Witter, Squire, Eggleston, Mason, Russ, Waldo, Kent, Marshall, and Benjamin Rush, besides his own homestead. This corner of Bainbridge was about as populous then as it has been at any time since; but the great forest, abounding in wolves, occasional bears and deer, and other wild things, loomed omnipresent, with small, slow-spreading clearings surrounding the log houses of the settlers and connected by threading trails that but tardily attained to the dignity of roads. Said Father, in his obituary of Mrs. Rachel Henry, above cited:

    The woods were full of game, and the streams and lakes of fish; and when one became sick a ready and curative remedy was found in roots, herbs, or bark.

    With scarcely any inequality of fortune among the pioneers, envy's tooth gnawed them not. All alike were poor; all struggling towards better things for their children in the years to come. And the children, at least, found happiness in this environment. Born amidst the forest, they grew up in the glamor of it. Unconscious of the limitations to which it subjected them, they knew only the manifold riches of nature's wilds.

    But not a few of their elders, who had tasted of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, suffered vain regrets for what they had found and lost in the life they had left behind them. Many, never acclimatized in the new country, burned and shook their lives away with fever and ague, or sank slowly beneath subtler and yet more fatal visitations. Even the consolations of their religion of otherworldliness served often but to emphasize the gloom of their life in this world. One source of alleviation of their lot was, however, unfailing: neighborliness and hospitality abounded, and the social intercourse of log-rollings, quilting and husking bees, of spelling schools, training days, church and camp meetings, lawsuits, elections, raisings, weddings, and even of

    _________
    away after the meeting of February 14, 1830; and Harriet A. Prior after February 21. The Waldos and Lewis Olney withdrew or removed, while Lucy Robbins and Amelia Bull were "dropped." Joseph Witter died in February, 1831, and his widow moved away, to reappear later, however, with a Joseph and Esther Witter.
    In the winter of 1834-1835, Jarvis McConotighey, a mighty hunter before the Lord, who brought haunches of venison from time to time as welcome gifts to the Henry household, "removed to Solon," having sold his farm to Gideon Kent; and Sophia Robbins "removed to Streetsborough class." Lucius Eggleston was "expelled for bad conduct to his wife"; and in May, 1836, Fanny Bull "joined the new divinity men." This crowning apostasy appears effectually to have closed a chapter, which is thus minutely reproduced as helping to make clear the surroundings amid which the subject hereof was born, some six months before.


     


                                  TRAITS  OF  PARENTS                               13


    funerals, afforded variety to toilsome lives. Every device to relieve the somberness of existence was eagerly welcomed unless forbidden by their moral code. Many of the pioneer women and most of the men sought and found solace in smoking, and to Polly and Rachel Henry, Deborah McConoughey, and many other of the neighboring housewives, when they forgathered for an afternoon visit, clay pipes and tobacco were no less important adjuncts of the occasion than their knitting.

    John and Polly Henry were not ill mated. Both were God-fearing and home-loving, fond of reading and of the society of good people. In most other respects their temperaments were complemental. Her democracy brooked no patronizing, and her effectual foil to such offending was either a plainlv feigned surprise at unfounded pretensions, or else a naive blundering on skeletons in the offender's closet. Her husband, no less sensitive, but more reticent on such occasions, preferred to shtin those who gave him offence.

    Like the rest of the Henrys he was given to nicknaming. To his children who "peeked" over his shoulder, or otherwise manifested undue interest in business not their own, he would shout, "Lyman Fowler, go and sit down." If any of them talked too much or too freely, "Joel Giles, be still." His son Simon's father-in-law, Mr. Wesley Whipple, was always "Old Crescent" after he had presumed to explain to Schoolmaster John Henry how to spell "Crescent City." Grandfather called his daughter Ann "Skit" from the agility with which in girlhood she eluded Father's playful pursuit by taking a tremendous leap through one of the open windows of the old log house. A little later, Henry Brewster, triumphing over all the rest of her many suitors, was brevetted "The Little Corporal," for his resemblance to Napoleon in frame and stature and in accomplishing whatever he undertook. The name "Captain Jaqua," which Grandfather applied to his son Newton, long remained uninterpreted, despite the other children's searching inquiries, until Uncle Edward came home on furlough from the army, when, said he,

    Father was so glad to see me that in the woods I cautiously asked him for the thousandth time why that nickname to Newton. "Why, I don't know, unless it was that Newton was so full of roguery."

    Beneath the jest lurked this hint of seriousness: Grandmother always maintained that her father was "more spiritual" than her mother; but Grandfather, having discerned some real or fancied limitations on Captain Jaqua's spirituality, preferred the sound piety of his mother-in-law. Truthful always, and plain-spoken when plain speaking was required, Grandfather Henry impressed one as habitually "Careful in speech, forbearing toward men, and faithful to God." Of this draft of his epitaph, which, after his death in 1869, his son Charles had worded, General Garfield, the friend of both, on its submission to him for criticism, exclaimed, "That is splendid, Charlie; I can suggest but one change: for 'men' read man; it is more comprehensive."
     




    14                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    Alike conscientious, John Henry was a moralist; his wife, a casuist. Doctor Shipherd often said, "John and Orrin Henry were the most honest men I ever knew." And Orrin, in his old age, wrote to his nephew Charles, "I always thought my brother John had a call to preach." As postmaster at Pond, for so the local railroad station and post office, now Geauga Lake, was called, John Henry, during this decade of his later years (March 11, 1857, to October 10, 1867), kind-hearted and obliging though he was, could not be induced to violate the Government's regulations by a hair's breadth for the accommodation of anyone. But his wife would take the locked mail pouch from her husband's hands, and, despite his mute protest, slip into it letters brought to the office by anxious patrons too late for regular posting. "It was a queer post office," said Mrs. Mary (Henry) Kennedy:

    "Have you any letters for me, Uncle John?" his niece Adelaide inquired.

    "Letters!" he replied, "why, you don't write letters."

    Behind curtains in a recess off the living room he would spend thirty minutes over his desk, carefully assorting the day's meager mail to the uttermost piece, while the neighbors waited, as patiently as possible till the end, for their letters and papers which, especially during the War, were always anxiously expected.

    So, too, as wife and widow, John Henry's helpmate scrupled not, among even her adult children, to appropriate a Peter's plenty to the relief of a needy Paul. Though never extravagant -- how could she be? -- credit to her was always as good as cash, especially in aid of her children. To each of her family in turn, even when they stood at cross purposes, the sympathetic mother and loyal wife lent her whole-souled support. The one in trouble at the moment always enlisted her aid.

    Ever resolute and aspiring, in contrast to her husband's resigned acceptance of their lot in life, for her it was emphatically not enough that they should "barely live and be content." He, on the other hand, never robust in body nor strenuous in action, implicitly accepted, not as a mere convenient pretext, but as from the divinely inspired word, his Master's injunction: "Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?"

    His brother William, thrifty and blunt, complaining of breaches made by cattle and Chagrin floods in John's part of their line, was wont to denounce the latter's "shiftless Jaqua fence" -- a double thrust, aimed not only at John's ineffectual poling of the river, but also at the enervating cause thereof, "the filthy tobacco habit." This vice, originating with the Jaquas, had ensnared even his own wife Rachel, whose secret supply of the weed he once slipped angrily into her teakettle, and at another time besprinkled with gunpowder, to the acute discomfort of the smoker and her family. In the following quatrain he frequently proclaimed his antipathy to my Lady Nicotine:

     


              JOHN HENRY, SURVEYOR  AND  SCHOOLMASTER          15


    Tobacco is a nasty weed
    And from the devil doth proceed;
    It picks your pocket, burns your clothes,
    And makes a chimney of your nose.

    Thus as time went on, the amenities of fraternal intercourse between these brothers devolved more and more upon their wives and children.

    John Henry's avocations, as schoolteacher, surveyor, and later as postmaster, interfered necessarily with his efficiency as a farmer. I have the field notes of over forty surveys made by him between 1833 and 1846 in Bainbridge, Russell, Auburn, Troy, Aurora, Solon, and elsewhere; and these are doubtless but a portion of all that he made. On one of them is marked, "Charge $4.00," a rate of pay that could hardly yield a competence. His son Edward wrote me that John Henry was "commissioned surveyor by the fourteenth governor of Ohio," Wilson Shannon. "This commission," he added, "I let Governor McKinley or Governor Hayes take as a curiosity, and I cannot find it." The record in the governor's office at Columbus discloses that on October 29, 1840, when the division of the county had created vacancies in some of its offices, a commission was issued to John Henry as county surveyor of Geauga County for three years, thus qualifying my father's impression that he "was elected county surveyor one or two terms, and declined to serve any longer, as he lived twenty-one miles from the county seat." But the courts sometimes appointed him to ascertain boundaries, lay out highways, or partition estates.

    I have also five of John Henry's neatly kept teacher's records, the earliest of which is marked in his fine hand: "School journal, Commencing Nov 24th, 1834, in the Southeast corner of Bainbridge; Enos D. Kingsley, Park Brown, Thomas Smith, Directors; Horace Crosby, Treasurer; John Henry, Teacher; compensation 12 Dollars per month." The school was in session six days each week, Christmas and New Year's included, and it closed on February 22, 1835. 1 During the next winter he taught in Solon, beginning on December 10, 1835, eleven days after the birth of his son Charles, and continuing, Saturdays and holidays included, and with only an occasional day missed to attend to surveys or other urgent business, until March 8, 1836. 2 The other three records in my possession cover terms which he taught in Pennsylvania during the winters of 1839-1840, 1840-1841, and 1842-1843. Many other such journals of his have disappeared.

    Trusting in Providence no less implicitly than her husband, Polly Henry's optimism was commonly translated into action. Hers was decidedly the more

    _________
    1 The pupils were E. D. Kingsley; George, Robert, and Thomas Smith; G. Smith, Jr. Also, William Russell, Horace Crosby, Park Brown, Samuel Creager, William Burgess, Seymour Dodge, Abner Bingham, David Baird, John Scouten, Alexander, Jr., and Russel Osborn, Cornelius Bowerman, and Susan Barber, the only girl!

    2 His pupils here were E. and John Trowbridge, W. Stannard, G. Mason, A., H., and W. Dunwell, Wid and J. Baldwin, A. and William Witter, Moses Shaw, Festus Merry, Warren Howell, Charles Warren, H. Phelps, J. Bartlett, and Jarvis McConoughey.
     




    16                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    intrepid spirit; her temperament more buoyant and volatile. If the tea was out, or they lacked money to pay taxes, his reply to her inquiry as to what they were going to do was apt to be "I don't know any more than the dead." But she would turn to her loom, finish a bolt of rag carpet and, throwing it on the old mare's back, ride with it to Solon, Aurora, or even to distant Warren, returning triumphant in due time, the crisis met. When the wolves followed her through the forest, she would sing in clear, ringing tones a Wesleyan hymn, and the wolves would stop howling and listen, but keep on following more distantly to the clearing in the woods.

    Doctor John Hatch, of Aurora, always maintained that his Aunt Polly -- he was her nephew by marriage -- had a "voice like an angel's, the sweetest he ever heard;" and I myself have heard her sing, when she was over seventy years old, in tones even then so melodious as to confirm the verity of his testimony. In all the Methodist meetings great and small which she attended in the early days, she was commonly the one to be called on or to volunteer to lead the singing. At church, people who did not know she was present would recognize her voice in the congregational chorus of Rock of Ages, Happy Day, the Missionary Hymn, or any of the grand old numbers, -- Nettleton, Amsterdam, Ardon, Bethany, and scores of others. "The Aurora folks," said my Aunt Ann Brewster, "often used to get her to sing there."

    Her appearance, too, was captivating. Mr. Austin Beecher, a competent if somewhat carnal-minded judge of female beauty, often asserted that in her youth she was one of the handsomest women be ever saw. I can answer for the regularity of her features and the brightness of her black eyes down to the time of her death.

    Added to these charms was her lively imagination, which lifted her constantly above the hardships of pioneer life. Though intensely practical in every-day affairs, she was no stranger to the world of dreams and romance. She had the full measure of superstition of those early days. To spill the salt was an omen of misadventure; to drop her dishcloth a sure sign of visitors. Of similar import was the crowing of a rooster on the doorstep or the floating of tea grounds in the cup. During the malaria epidemic of 1846 she, the mainstay of her stricken family, feeling that she at all hazards must be rid of the disease, resorted at last to mild diablerie:

    Ague, ague, you have bothered me;
    Now I'll tie you up to this old beech tree.
    When her husband asked her where she had been, she replied, half conscience-smitten, that she had been having "a chat with the devil." But not a shake after it did she suffer.

    The Bible was to her a book not only of divine revelation but of pious divination as well. Special providences were the constant attendants of family and neighborhood life. Dreams were as plainly significant to her as to Joseph of old. Her vision tales of "The Ox with Great Horns," and "The Two

     


                        POLLY  HENRY'S  THRILLING  TALES                     17


    Balls of Fire," held her children and grandchildren spellbound. Deaths especially were foretokened by dreams of the grim horseman and his pale steed. Thus she suffered double agonies when, as she averred, the dread visitor, so heralded, actually crossed her threshold. Conversely, "Dream of the dead and you'll hear from the living," was a favorite aphorism, its prediction seldom or never failing. The characters of fiction, moreover, in her vivid rehearsal of Scott's and Cooper's tales, donned robes of flesh so real that in after years, as the children came to read the books for themselves, the stories of "Di Vernon," "Harvey the Spy," "Leatherstocking," and all the rest, seemed like biographies of veritable persons.

    Her husband, John Henry, often reproving her for minor inaccuracies, could not only repeat from memory every word in Webster's Spelling Book when he presided at spelling schools, but he could recite the whole of Scott's "Lady of the Lake," much of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village," and all or large parts of divers other poems. She, however, could lift clear of the printed page and marshal in living pageantry "Fitz-James" and "Roderick Dhu" with all their border hosts. "Her account of the great meteoric shower in 1833," declared her son Edward, "was thrilling."

    It seemed as though the stars of heaven were all falling, and everyone but her husband, John Henry, thought the world was coming to an end. The effect on some of the neighbors was for good. Two or three wicked swearing fellows became almost converted to God, and behaved themselves for a long time. More meteors would have made them go to the mourners' bench. 1

    In conversation her vivacity was such that her words and thoughts sometimes tripped over one another. On the road to "the Center," according to a story which has certainly not deteriorated in the telling, she one day late in life reined in her pony at Charley Chase's blacksmith shop and, hailing the horseshoer, said, "I want you to set Dolly's shoe. Have you heard that George Shipherd's baby is dead? It has gone clickety-clack, clickety-clack, all the way up."

    Calling upon Mrs. Amanda Briggs, who had just finished baking a pound-cake, and whose child stood clinging to her skirts, Grandmother exclaimed, "Oh, what a beautiful cake! And what a beautiful child!" Then inquiringly. "Raised with empt'in's?" At another time, when one of her granddaughters, Cora or Florence Brown, made a new kind of cake at her house, Grandmother extolled it as being "so moist and so dry," meaning doubtless that it was neither crumbly nor heavy.

    An inveterate matchmaker and gossip, she was by no means a trouble- breeder; for she said to people's faces, frankly and with impunity, what others would only whisper behind their backs. When one of the same neighbors took his mother's hired girl to the county fair and stayed two or three

    _________
    1 One of the neighboring Henrys, a very intelligent man, unrelated to Father's family, is said to have even got his suit or robe ready to go up in the general ascension.
     




    18                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    days, the girl petulantly denied Mistress Polly's suggestion of a runaway marriage; whereat her interlocutor replied spiritedly, "It looks like the game without the name."

    The young man's mother, at another time, came weeping and wringing her hands to tell Grandmother that her son was drafted, and cried, "What shall I do?" Grandmother had three sons at the front already. But the oldest, residing nearby with his family, still remained. So she exclaimed cheerily, "Why, maybe Simon can go in his place!"

    Those who were in sickness or trouble knew well her neighborly kindness and tender ministrations. It became such a religious habit with her to go to funerals, that in later years she was wont to attend them even when her acquaintance with the households which death had invaded was but slight. Her own death from pneumonia on January 21, 1881, was due to imprudent exposure to inclement weather on such an occasion. She was a persistent letter-writer, and all of the Henry kindred who had moved farther west before the Civil War, including one who sided with the South in that conflict, were long kept in touch with their relatives in Ohio through her unfailing diligence as a correspondent. Her sympathies were so keen as often to engross her mind to the exclusion of all other considerations, however important. This is illustrated by Father's account to his grandchildren of "a little incident of childhood days."

    If anything got into the eye and gave great pain, it was believed that a louse put under the eyelid would relieve the intense suffering. Cousin Jehu Brainard and his wife Maria lived in the old round-log house adjacent to ours. Cousin Maria one day began to scream with pain in her eye. Your great-grandmother, full of sympathy, got a little tin box ["her round black snuffbox, " said Aunt Ann, "with flowers on the cover"] and sent me up the hill as fast as my young legs could carry me. Brother [a grandchild] could not run faster or talk faster. Almost out of breath, I said to Mrs. G--, "Cousin Maria is in awful pain in her eye. Mamma wants a louse to get it out." With a look of haughty scorn I never forgot, she replied, "Go home and tell your mother to comb her own darn young 'uns heads." I returned with empty tin box, wondering why she had treated me so scornfully, as we had always been the best of neighbors.

    Long years afterwards, when "Aunt Polly," as the neighbors called her, lived all alone in her widowhood, declining the invitations of her children to live with them, I recall her smiling face at the door and her cheery greeting, "Oh you deary!" when the clicking gate announced a grandchild's coming. I remember the old-fashioned flowers in her dooryard, with its bachelor's buttons and marigolds, its meetin' seed, its yellow dahlias, larkspurs, and roses, its "pinies," poppies, and pansies, and its wonderful perennial shrubs, the "tree of heaven" and the "tree of life." I can still taste the mellow russets and pippins in her orchard below the house, and the pies and the peppermint drops from her cupboards. I fancy myself again driving

     


                              IN  HEAVEN'S  ENVIRONS                           19


    up her cows, Old Star, Little Star, Beauty, Spot, 1 and the rest; or bringing her mail from the post office-letters from children or from cousins in the West, the Guide to Holiness which she read alone, and Robert Bonner's New York Ledger which, as she sat knitting, sewing carpet rags, or paring apples, I was always glad to read to her, with its thrilling tales by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., or Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth.

    I see her now sitting by her fireside beneath the festoons of boneset and lobelia, wild berries and dried apples, that adorned her ceiling, and reading her worn and dog-eared "Testament and Psalms," all stained with tears and candle grease. I scent the pungent wholesome savor of her sage, catnip, and pennyroyal. I hear the clang of her loom at the head of the stairs, and see the swift-darting shuttles, as with aged but still deft hands and feet she wove into handsome carpet the rags she had patiently cut and dyed and sewn. My dear grandmother! She surely trod the road to heaven, for it was in heaven's environs that her children and their children always found her.

    _________
    1 One cow was curiously yclept "Stonewall Jackson," doubtless by Grandfather.




     

    [ 20 ]




    2. Log House Days


    Of the nine children born to John and Polly Henry, Charles was the seventh. Writing to me, April 18, 1901, from Cincinnati, about my birth, he thus digressed:

    By the way, Dr. Shipherd helped me into the world; also Aunt Maria, Aunt Ann, Aunt Eliza, and Uncle Ed; and I think took his pay in sheep at a dollar a head, sheep and babies, -- they were not particular about the count. Your grandpa and grandma had, I think, nine children, who lived to preach and do other things, [save that] two or three died young, probably the best ones. Your three aunts have averaged better than their brothers.

    The following note to one of these aunts he appended to a business letter, written in 1890, from Dallas, Texas, to her husband, "Deacon" Henry Brewster; but by an odd balancing of errors elsewhere rectified by him, he has here subtracted one from the number of the years of his age and added the same to the number of pounds he was said to have weighed at birth:

                                                                        November 29th.
    Dear Sister Ann: I believe Mrs. Russ and Aunt Rachel paid me a visit fifty-four years ago today. I do not remember much about the visit; but I no doubt thought it was a cold world, and have found it so ever since, with here and there a spot of sunshine. Tradition gave my weight at five and a half or six pounds. Mother confidentially informed me, years after, that I was "wove to death almost" in the world I came from. At all events I have been weaving and scrabbling about for half a century nearly, always getting ready for a cold winter, to get a chunk of pork for the pot, a little wood for the fire, and a little meal for a johnny-cake. I am getting tired of botheration to get these things, and think I will quit soon and rest. I believe I have earned my living so far. May God bless you.
                                      C. E. Henry

    On inspection of the frail mite of humanity whose nativity is thus recounted, the women, skilled in their neighborly office, could not in candor encourage the mother with even the conventional judgment that it was "a likely child." They took the minikin into the outer room, before the blazing fireplace, to wash and dress and weigh it; but could only whisper to one another, as they scanned the steelyard's beam, "They'll never raise it."

    Winter was at hand. Soon the husband and father must go away to begin his winter's school. The log house in the clearing on the west flood-bank of the Chagrin already abounded in little mouths to feed and little bodies

     


                        A  MAN  BORN  INTO  THE  WORLD                     21


    to clothe, and the night's baying chorus lurked uncomfortably near its threshold. Prostrate and helpless, with her puny new babe beside her, the mother, stouthearted though she was, saw little occasion "for joy that a man is born into the world." When the women 1 were gone she broke down completely, and amidst sobs besought her husband to "fetch the Book and let it fall open" where it would, for such comfort as Providence might provide in the first text to strike his eye. John Henry, acquainted alike with his Bible and with his wife, obeyed. Providentially the volume fell open at Psalm 128, and with twinkling eye he read the third verse: "Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house: thy children like olive plants round thy table."

    "Shut the book," impatiently commanded the mother. But her tears were dried, and with an appreciative grimace at her husband, she nestled the little babe to her bosom and contentedly fell asleep.

    "The spirit of her brief rebellion had, however, on one occasion," said my father, "the powerful aid of our maiden aunt, Father's strong-minded sister Mary, who had rejected numerous lovers in former days on account of their non-belief in some religious tenet. She was silenced by the strength of Father's faith, when he replied meekly to her lashing, 'Sister, if the Lord sends us children we'll not murmur.' "

    In a holiday greeting to my children, written on New Year's day, 1905, in Cleveland, Father told in the third person (lapsing midway insensibly into the first person), of his own infancy:

    Grandpa was only three weeks old his first Christmas and four weeks his first New Year's. He therefore can not remember them. He probably "rampaged" and made much fuss to enforce a "maternal contribution." Grandpa weighed four pounds, some say five pounds, in those days. Your great-grandma did the best she could with a large family of small children. Your Great-uncle Newton was much help to her that cold winter. He was 16 or 17 (really 13 or 14) years old and saved your grandpa's life many times. He relates the story of how he not up nights and waded barefoot, down outside stairs of the log house home, in snow a foot deep, and warmed a quart or so of milk two or three times a night to save the little one's life. It only took the milk of two or three fresh cows that winter to save your dear grandpa's life.

    Your great-grandmother cared for her large family quite well. She had them all vaccinated and a little bag of sulphur about each of our necks to keep off the itch at school. She also had one or two good fine-tooth combs that were used daily in our hair. Uncle Newton, however, was the best one of the tribe. He got religion young. His Aunt Mary, your Great-grandaunt Mary, got it for him. The rest of us were not good enough to get it till in after years we could make a record on our merits. Your grandpa was always grateful to your Great-uncle Newton for saving his life so many times that
    _________
    1 Mrs. Russ and Aunt Rachel. When the former's grandson, Joseph Price, was horn a year or two later, they blew a horn in the night to wake Grandmother and summon her assistance.
     




    22                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    cold winter. Your Great-uncle Newton was told by his Aunt Mary, when he was seventeen years old, that he had a call to preach. He rather thought so also, as it was easier than clearing land in pioneer days. He devoted himself to that toil through life, except for three years as a very good soldier during the Civil War.

    Your grandpa spent his second Christmas probably in trying to get his big toe into his mouth, but does not recollect about the details. He remembers one thing, however, about his early childhood Christmas days. He remembers that his two good [older] sisters, Aunt Maria and Aunt Ann, were good sisters and took good care of him as a little boy, and never bragged about it.

    All this rollicking is a little hard on Uncle Newton, whose sincerity I have never doubted. Two comments may explain Father's humorous ingratitude. In the first place, though he himself had, on occasion, a naive, inoffensive manner of boasting, he much disliked this quality in others, especially in a benefactor reminding his beneficiary of favors conferred. Secondly, as their sister Eliza recalled, Father's first earnings, sixteen dollars in silver paid him by James McClintock 1 for work as a farm hand, lay hid in the ground where he had buried it for safekeeping, when his elder brother Newton, who had obeyed the "call to preach," came home on a visit. Learning of the boy's little hoard, he asked him if he did not "want to lend it to the Lord," that is, of course, to the use of the Lord's needy circuit-riding vicar! It required but little persuasion to induce the lad to do as he was desired. He dug up his money and piously "lent it to the Lord," without then anticipating or thereafter delighting in the legitimate use to which, as he afterwards learned, his offering had been applied.

    Nevertheless, in after years, whenever Uncle Newton came back to Bainbridge on a visit and preached one of his excellent sermons in the old Methodist church there, Father regularly renewed his contribution, and Uncle Newton always acknowledged it with the phrase (sometimes humorously inverted), "He that giveth to the poor, lendeth to the Lord." Thus their fraternal intercourse, while not ardent, was by no means unfriendly. Both of Father's older brothers erred in trifling with the boy's pecuniary rights. How the iron entered his soul they never realized. Twelve or fourteen years later, when he was far away and had not seen them for years, he wrote to his mother from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, on April 25, 1864:

    I trust that your memory will recall to mind the fact that years ago I was an industrious boy, working for eight or nine dollars per month, at hard labor, and going to bed each night with my young bones sore from toil, and that the money thus earned was "borrowed" from me by those who could earn ten dollars to my one. I trust that you will forgive me; I mean no reflection on you nor Father.

    Three or four dollars to his one would have been accurate; the difference was aggravation.
    _________
    1 Aunt Ann thought it was four dollars and a half, which Father had earned at Carlos Henry's. But Aunt Eliza insisted that, though his first wages were as Aunt Ann said, he paid out that money for shoes, etc.

     


                                    EARLIEST  MEMORIES                                 23


    The following letter, about his infancy and later life, Father addressed to me when I was a senior in Hiram College:

                                            Dallas, Texas, Nov. 29th, 1887, 7 P.M.
    Dear Fred: I passed the 52nd milestone about two hours ago. What a change in half a century! I have been trying to remember events in my earliest childhood. The old log house with its stone fireplace and chimney, the kind of chairs, the color of the dishes, the buttery and what we had to cat; the cows, the oxen, and the old mare; of how Simon and Newton looked, and Father and Mother; of the neighbors as they came to talk religion and politics. I well remember a red woolen dress I wore till I was at least four or five years old.

    From that early day on till I was fifteen, the time seemed longer, many times longer, than from the time of my enlistment in the army to the present, twenty-six years. I am satisfied that the real growth, the strength of mind, is mainly attained before twenty-five. I have three notable examples in mind: Somers, the great English statesman, Alexander Hamilton, and Garfield. If a boy starts in correct methods of using his mind and does something every day till he is twenty-five, his mental and physical habits will be fixed; the machine will almost run itself after that.

    My life has been one of anxiety and toil. I have worked hard enough-too hard, indeed, some years, -- and yet I look back over years of miserable failure, over nothing but a pavement of mistakes. I have had a reasonably happy life, yet not so happy because of anxiety that availed me little. I feel that I have been a type of the average American, making each day a day of toil to get money instead of to grow. I quit the district school at sixteen, and didn't go to Hiram till after twenty. Those four years I put into the hardest work with no letup winter or summer. When I first went to Hiram I had saved over $500 from my work and had quite a little library. I could hold up my head among the students there for I could pay my way. You are far better equipped now than I ever was, and I am glad of it. Do your level best on the last quarter, the home stretch, of school life and I will be content. Mamma joins in love.
                                    C. E. Henry

    The red woolen dress, which Father mentions, was of his mother's coloring and weaving. It gave place, on the occasion of his Grandmother Jaqua's visit in May, 1839, when he was three years and a half old, said Aunt Ann, "to a mouse-colored suit, Simon's castoff clothes made over. Ellen McGranahan, her granddaughter, afterwards Mrs. Coulter, came with Grandma Jaqua. Newton 'slied' Charlie into the bedroom and changed his dress for the new suit, and Grandma exclaimed, 'Why, what bright little boy is this?'" Her departure for home marks Father's first remembrance of any event and, I believe, his only memory of her. The mental picture portrayed his grandmother seated on her pony ready to go, and his mother in tears on the ground by her side.

    At another time (October 11, 1886, from Dallas) he wrote: "My earliest recollection of the hills and valleys about my birthplace was that the hills were very high and the valleys deep. They looked smaller as I grew older." 1

    _________
    1 In fact, as shown by the United States Topographical Map, the entire range of variation in surface levels in Bainbridge is about 320 feet. The Chagrin River, opposite the site of the old log house, lies 940 feet above sea level; Father's birthplace, 960;

     


    24                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    The southwestern corner of Bainbridge is indeed a rugged and beautiful region. Much of it, too hilly to cultivate, was best suited to dairy farming and to maple sugar-making. The rock maples of the original forest thus largely escaped the woodman's ax, and with the new ones since allowed to grow, they perpetuate through the revolving years the romance of "sugaring" in springtime, and in the fall the glorious color symphonies of autumn leaves. The hills abound in springs and spring brooks, whose chill waters, meandering into the Chagrin, afforded here and there, in pioneer days, a natural home of brook trout. The lake, also spring-fed, and teeming with fine fish, has, curiously enough, no connection with the river, a tunnel of only a few hundred yards towards which would drain the deep basin dry.

    Of Father's birthplace, thus bounteously environed with nature's charms, I quote his description, which I wrote out, as nearly as possible in his own words, from my notes of a conversation with him at my home in Cleveland on Tuesday evening, March 27, 1906, after he had become blind and unable to write:

    Our home was really two houses, each about twenty-five by thirty-six feet. The first stood nearer the river, but faced north, broadside towards the highway. It was built of round straight logs, halved in at the corners, with the cracks filled with mud, and with a broad fireplace. The chimney, constructed of stones or bog ore chunks, was topped off with sticks. A few years after, but before I can remember, the other log house was erected more comfortably of split cucumber, with half logs neatly dovetailed at the corners. Like the cap of a "T," it stood at the west end of the first house, separated from it by the great chimney with its fireplaces opening into each.

    We lived in the new house, but used both, though I can remember several families living from time to time in the old one: Jehu Brainerd, 1 the son of Mother's older sister, Aunt Chary (Charity Jaqua); a man named Roberts, (whose wife was a sister of Russell G. McCartey, but) whom I knew as Rell Robber's father; and some others. "Uncle" Ben Williams lived much with us one winter, while he and Carlton McCartey were building, on the hill a quarter of a mile west, 2 the fraiiie house of your Uncle Simon, in which Father and Mother died. I remember well his smooth counterhewing of the timbers with a broadax.

    Among other familiar figures at our house were the shoemaker, who came around periodically "whipping the cat," and Harriet Squire, the "tailoress," who turned Mormon, as, long before my day, Sidney Rigdon, the Campbellite preacher and sojourner in Bainbridge, had led in doing.

    In the split-log house, two bedrooms were partitioned off at the north end, and a pantry or buttery in the southwest corner, each with a window. About
    _________
    1 "Or rather," said Aunt Ann, "his brother-in-law, Lawyer West, a brother of Cousin Maria. Cousin Jehu lived opposite Gideon Kent, though he may have lived in the old log house a little while first." This was about 1841-1842. See the Brainerd-Brainard Genealogy, volume 2, page 148.
    2 "It was Mother's building spot," said Aunt Ann, "but she gave it up to Simon."

    _________
    Geauga Lake, 1007; Father's and Grandfather's homes in later life, 1020; and, on the east side of the Chagrin, the land rises abruptly to about the same height, and then gradually to the level of 1260 feet at a point east of "the Center."

     


                          LOG  HOUSE  HOME  AND  NEIGHBORS                       25


    fifteen paces from the south door the spring bubbled tip at the foot of the hill, where wild plum trees grew, loaded with plums; and in the opposite direction the outdoor oven, half as far again from the house, was reached through the east or front entrance, which opened near the northeast bedroom.

    Father's sisters, Ann and Eliza, recalled more particularly a large brick oven in the old log house, heated with "oven wood" or kindlings until, after raking out the coals, "they could hold their hands in only long enough to count eleven." Then it was ready without further heating to cook rye and Indian bread, pies, etc.

    Half a mile northeast of us across the river, the Russ family lived among the rocks on the hills; and east about the same distance, Uncle William's comfortable home overlooked the valley. Farther east, Uncle Orrin's house sheltered another large family; and beyond them, in the old homestead, with Grandfather Simon Henry, on the Chillicothe road two miles away, lived Uncle Calvin's family, and also, until her marriage late in life to Elijah French, our pious, outspoken Aunt Mary. Over in that neighborhood, too, dwelt Aunt Rhoda Root and Father's beloved and early widowed sister, Aunt Anne Lacy, with their numerous children.

    On our side of the valley the rye lot on the little bluff above the river, Father's favorite field to work, yielded each year a sure crop of some sort. In the gully and brook between it and our house I used to play a great deal. Up the valley, around the bend of the river, stood Aaron Squire's tannery on the other side of the stream; and on this side, his home, now our "Brewster house." These, with the mill just above, and other buildings, made up quite a hamlet, Cold Spring Mills. 1

    A mile south of us stood the red schoolhouse at the edge of the township. Our nearest neighbors were the McClintocks to the southwest, and Joel Giles's family on the hill near the corners to the northwest; besides Banyor Mason, the Shaker, across the road from us but some distance off. Many other old residents lived in the neighborhood, and Hopkins's Mill, with its little settlement and ague-breeding mill pond, lay a mile down the river.

    My notes make mention also of the "buzzing flax-wheel," of the "trundle-bed, which stood against the west wall near the bedroom door," of the odorous dye-pot, and of the outside stairs which descended from a platform next the chimney northwards alongside the east wall of the split-log house to the ground. In loving remembrance of his oldest sister Maria, amidst those scenes of their childhood, Father wrote from Geauga Lake on September 25, 1904, two days after her death in East Cleveland, to her daughters Jennie and Kate:

    I wish to give a word of comfort in your deep sorrow for the loss of a dear mother and noble woman. From my early childhood she was always a dear sister to me. I can just remember how she soothed my childish sorrows by
    _________
    1 Also known as Eggleston's Mills; later, as Fuller's Mills, and to the unregenerate as Hell Holler." There Captain Norton, with his cultured wife from New York city, resided, and above the mill, the Goodsell, Rogers, and Thompson families reared their log houses.


     


    26                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    gentle words. Oh, how beautiful her face in those moments! The picture is clear and lovely across the bridge of years. The tender tone of her voice was my sweetest music. Her lullaby songs, sacred with my mother's, still linger in memory, tender and holy. They cheer and comfort me with advancing age....

    I love to think of her in the log house, with the bubbling spring, the roses, hollyhocks, morning glories creeping up the logs, the apple blossoms, and sunflowers, nursed and cared for by my oldest sister and my mother in spare moments from the busy spinning wheel and loom.

    I recall Grandmother's telling me of their neighbor Mrs. Russ' fondness for Father when he was a child in dresses. She often brought him sweetmeats of her own making, and from her place of playful concealment behind a bush or around the corner of the house she would beckon him to come and get them. The first tidings of her coming would often be the little boy's gleeful prattle to his mother, "Mis' Russie, custard!" From Mrs. Warren, too, the tanner's wife, the child frequently received gifts of cake.

    Playing around the house in summer was not without its dangers. Even after they had moved into the home on the hill, Grandmother once saw the boy almost in the act of stepping barefoot on a yellow rattlesnake or copperhead coiled in the front dooryard; and at an earlier time, as Aunt Ann recalled, a great spotted adder appeared before her in the old round-log house. Fortunately the reptiles were seen in time to escape the peril of their fangs. Winter, too, had its drawbacks for the children. Besides Uncle Newton's tale of walking barefoot down the outside stairs in the snow at night, it was a common experience in the loft to wake of a winter's morning and find the bed all spread with a white coverlet of snow that had blown and sifted in through chinks in the log walls. No vestige of those walls remains, though when I was a boy their outlines were traceable in the sod of our pasture. Some weeks after my brother Jim's death Father wrote to me from Geauga Lake, on October 25, 1901:

    Today I wandered about the place of the old double log house where I was born. I had just spent three hours looking over Jim's papers. He was a gentleman indeed, from babyhood to the grave.

    Only a few apple trees mark the spot of the old double log house. What memories came to me! My noble father and mother, long since gone. How I recalled Grandma's delightful stories, far better than the stories of today. I cuddled at her knee as she sung her beautiful songs and hymns and told her splendid stories more than sixty years ago.

    I sat down in the sunlight of an October afternoon. What glorious foliage!

    Bowed with age and sorrow, he sought the spot where he was born, to find comfort once again at Mother's knee! The few gnarled old trees, surviving there, grew from apple seeds she long ago had planted in rotten stumps of the clearing to shield the seedling shoots from browsing cattle. Later his father and "Uncle" Ben Williams grafted them, and they bore good fruit

     


                                THE  WILDERNESS  MARCH                             27


    abundantly. Among his mother's old songs that he recalled there under the old apple trees was doubtless "The Wilderness March," 1 of which he wrote

    _________
    1 The old Israelites knew what it was they must do
       If fair Canaan they ever possessed,
    They must still keep in sight of the pillar of light
       Which led to the promised rest;
    That the camps on the road could not be their abode,
       But, as oft as the trumpet should blow,
    Then all glad of a chance for a further advance
       They'd take up their baggage and go.

    I am thankful indeed for the heavenly head
       Which before us has hitherto gone,
    For that pillar of love which onward doth move
       And gathers our souls into one;
    While that sin-hating throng is advancing along
       Into closer communion they flow,
    So all that would stand in that heavenly land
       Must take up their crosses and go.

    Here the way is all new as it opens to view
       And behind is a foaming Red Sea,
    So none needs to speak of the onion or leek
       Or talk about garlic to me;
    I'm engaged in pursuit and must have the good fruit
       That in Canaan's rich valleys doth grow,
    Though millions of foes should arise to oppose
       For on I'm resolved to go.

    Though some in the rear preach terror and fear
       And complain of the trials they meet,
    Though the lions before with great fury do roar,
       I'm resolved I will never retreat;
    We are little, 'tis true, and our numbers are few
       And the sons of old Anak are tall,
    With the resolute few I'm resolved to go through,
       Keeping on at the risk of my all.

    On Jordan's near side I can never abide
       For no place of repose I can see,
    I shall come to the spot and inherit the lot
       Which the Lord God shall give unto me;
    It is union I seek with the pure and the meek
       And an end to all discord and strife,
    I have fixed my eyes on the heavenly prize
       And press on at the risk of my life.

    My honors and wealth, my pleasures and health,
       I am willing should now be at stake,
    And if Christ I obtain I shall think it great gain
       For the sacrifice which I shall make;
    All that I forsook like a bubble will look
       From the midst of that glorified throng,
    O then let us agree and from bondage be free
       And to Zion be moving along.

    Now the morning doth dawn for the camp to move on
       And the priests each his trumpet doth blow,
    At the sound of the trump I am ready to jump
       And for one I'm resolved to go;
    Though my trials are great I submit to my fate
       For the storm it will shortly be o'er,
    I shall thankfully see what a blessing to me
       Was the cross mortifying I bore.

     


    28                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    out for me at different times the first stanza and parts of others. From different sources I have recovered the whole. It was sung, said Uncle Edward, to "music in the Lowell Mason collection, first stanza [four lines] low, fa-sol-la; second stanza high, la-sol-fa, by couplets." Father suggested the swing of the lines by writing drolly, "blow-wo," "Sea-ee," and "grow-wo." In the third and seventh stanzas Uncle Edward emphasized the pronoun in "I'm resolved." He recalled, too, how "Grandfather Henry would sing it in the woods, ringing out the words, 'from bondage be free,' "and how Banyor Mason, the Shaker, would dance and sing it with a "Lo-lo" chorus and a shout at the end.

    "The Lavender Girl," another old-time song, and always a favorite with Father, dated back in his recollection (as he wrote to his oldest grandchild, from Grand Rapids, Michigan, on May 9, 1901) to "sixty years ago":

        As the sun climbs over the hill
    And the skylark sings so cheerily,
        I my little basket fill
    And trudge along to the village merrily.
        Light my bosom, light my heart!
        I but laugh at Cupid's dart!
    I keep my mother, myself, and brother
        By trudging along to sell my lavender.
    Ladies, try it! come and buy it!
        Come, come, and buy my lavender-come.

        Ere the gentry quit their bed
    (Foes to health -- I'm wisely keeping it)
        Oft I earn my daily bread
    And sit beneath the wild hedge eating it.
        Light my bosom, etc.

    To my children he wrote from Detroit, on Julie 13, 1901:

    Your great-ganma used to lullaby your ganpa to sleep, with sweet voice and loving words:

    Where now is good old Elijah?
    Where now is good old Elijah?
    Where now is good old Elijah?
        Safe in the Promised Land.

    Other lines, with like repetition and refrain, were:

    Where now are the children of Israel?

    and

    They came up through great tribulation.

    There might have been, and doubtless were, an endless number of verses -- enough, at least, to put babies to sleep. On the margin of a newspaper clipping, reproducing the following old-time favorite "piece" from the

     


                                        SPEAKING  PIECES                                     29


    Columbian Orator, Father noted: "I 'spoke' this with pride when seven or eight years old."

    You'd scarce expect one of my age
        To speak in public on the staore;
    And if I chance to fall below
        Demosthenes or Cicero,
    Don't view me with a critic's eye
        But pass my imperfections by.
    Large streams from little fountains flow,
    Tall oaks from little acorns grow;
    ...
    These thoughts inspire my youthful mind
        To be the greatest of mankind;
    Great not like Caesar, stained with blood,
        But only great as I am good.

    No doubt he also memorized and declaimed, in view of his Berkshire parent's avocation as "Old Master Whackemwell," that other old favorite, "The Smack in School," beginning:

    'Mid Berkshire hills not far away
        A district school, one winter's day,
    Was humming with the wonted noise
        Of three score mingled girls and boys.

    To children of a soldier of the War of 1812 nothing could be more natural than the use of the following "choosing-in rhyme," which Aunt Eliza recalled their using in her youth. 1

    We are marching forward toward Quebec
        And the drums are loudly beating:
    America has gained the day
        And the British are retreating.

    The wars are o'er and we'll turn back
        Never, nevermore to be parted;
    We'll open the ring and choose a couple in
        For we trust they are true-hearted.

    From Dallas, Texas, on December 10, 1887, Father wrote to his "Dear Sister Ann":

    On the twenty-ninth of November I passed the fifty-second milestone of life. On that day I fell into a retrospect of my early childhood. The great dread of several years of my childhood was the oft-repeated talk of Simon that I must be bound out. just what "bound out" meant I hardly knew, but it scared me whenever I heard him talk about it.

    Men who came to the old log house sometimes gave me pennies, which I took good care to bury in the ground as soon as I could do so without anybody seeing me. I had heard Mother tell about Captain Kidd burying his
    _________
    1 America rhymed with day, and are was pronounced air.

     


    30                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    money, and I thought that was the proper thing to do with it. Of course, I nearly always forgot where I buried it, and I sometimes think I have foolishly gone on burying money in the ground ever since.

    You may remember about Mother telling about my saving the house from burning one day when I was quite young. She swept the hearth up, and hung the broom up and went out. Some fire caught from the fireplace in the broom when she was sweeping and she did not see it. She left me alone in the house and went into the other old log house, 1 and soon I ran to her and yelled,

    "'Moke, Mamma, 'moke!" and pulled her dress till she returned just in time to put out the fire. I remember a great black burnt place remained by the side of the fireplace for years. On calling the occurrence to mind on my birthday,

    I wrote to my Jimmie some verses about it, and I send you a copy for your own amusement. We are well, and Sophia joins in love to you all.
                                     
                 C. E. Henry


                HOW THE HOUSE WAS SAVED
    Little Boy Blue was left all alone
        In the old log house in the valley,
    With no one to love (and no telephone)
        Not even his old Aunt Sally.

    All alone was Little Boy Blue
        When he saw the broom on fire!
    His folks all gone and nobody knew
        Where was Simon or Sister "Mariar."

    A look of alarm overspread the face
        Of Little Boy Blue, and he broke
    For his mamma, who thought him a hard little case
        When he pulled at her dress and yelled "'Moke!"

    Little Boy Blue then blew up his horn,
        But nary a word more he spoke
    But to tug at the dress with a look of alarm
        And earnestly yell, "Mamma, 'moke."

    Only five years old was Little Boy Blue
        When he showed that he was no "bloke,"
    A bright little boy, as every one knew,
        When he pulled at the dress and yelled "'Moke'"

    "Aunt Sally" (mantle of Charity) and "five years old" (what precocity!) must, of course, be set down as figments of poetic license and imagination -- humorous concessions to rhyme and reason. Father was always writing doggerel to his children, and affecting to be deeply hurt when reflections were cast on its poetic merit. He had, however, attained to the age mentioned when the following letter, postmarked, "Harts X Roads, Pa., Feb. 9. Paid 10) 99 and addressed, on the outside of the folded foolscap sheet, which answered

    _________
    1 Or rather, said Aunt Ann, "into her bedroom to pray."

     


                    DOLEFUL  SCHOOLMASTER  WRITES  HOME                 31


    for both envelope and enclosure, "Mrs. Polly Henry, Bissels P. Office, Bainbridge, Geauga Co., Ohio," was written by her husband while teaching school in Crawford County, Pennsylvania:

                                 North Shenango, 7th Feb., 1841.
    Dear Companion: While my mind is often drawn to the scenes around our own fireside at home, and fancy, or the imagination, sketches in strong and lively colors my suffering little children, laboring under a distressing disease, and the anxiety of their mother in watching their disease in its progress, I find myself so affected that it almost unfits me for the discharge of the laborious duties of my station for some minutes perhaps in the course of the day. But I find myself obliged to check my wandering thoughts, as the Herculean labors of every day need the whole energy of both body and mind to attend to the wants of over fifty scholars every day-very many who are backward and some vicious. I have worked hard for many weeks. I have tried to pray and, thank God, I have found some comfort. God in mercy has kept me from distraction, and I have enjoyed tolerable health of body; although sometimes I have thought that my body must give way to the mountain labors of the day-school ranging almost constantly from fifty-two to sixty. Thus much I can say, that no money would tempt me to take such a school again without an assistant; it has made me heartily tired of school-keeping. I now have seventeen days longer to close my contract, which, if I am alive and well, I hope to complete about the 26th of this month. I may possibly visit Newton; but uncertain, as a journey of sixteen miles and back on foot does not suit my limbs at the present age. I have had two letters from him, and have sent him two short ones and the first that you wrote; I have sent him newspapers twice. I have heard from him twice the past week; he has got into a good neighborhood, they all say. He writes me that he has eighteen scholars that are grown to full stature. S. Cotton tells me that they all think much of him, and that Newton told him his time passed pleasantly away. I sent him all the news in your last, which probably he will receive this evening.

    I expect by this time [you] wish to know something of David's family, your Mother, etc. Your letter was brought to me from the office one week ago yesterday in the afternoon. I dismissed my school soon after, and went down to David's, which was the first visit (a period of almost five weeks) that I made after the funeral. I found them all in tolerable health; but the solemn deportment and the vacant place told in strong language that Death had been there. The little children more still than common; David carries a countenance strongly marked with sorrow; Ellen tells plainly by her countenance that something has brought a grief on her spirit. Ruth is the same odd, droll, witty being as ever, and bears not so much the complexion of sorrow; but still she is not airy as she was in the fore part of the winter, when she was sharply rebuked by your Mother telling her that her mouth would be stretched open on the laugh if her Mother was dying.

    But enough of this. Your Mother enjoys tolerable health, with the exception of a rheumatic pain in the shoulder; but she rode out the day I went down there, and went to meeting the next day. I showed her your letter, spoke to her in regard to her staying there; [she] is undecided yet, but thinks she must stay there, as the girls can not be reconciled to the idea of her leaving them, Ellen having received her in charge from her dying Mother. She likewise thinks that perhaps she may become helpless, and thinks they are

     


    32                             CAPTAIN  HENRY  OF  GEAUGA                            


    bound to do for her in that case on the score of justice. I told her she need not be uneasy on that account, but feel entirely at home with us. She looks more thin and poor in the face than I ever saw her before. She thinks she may visit us next summer, if well; but says she can not be reconciled to staying out, around home, nights, as she could once; for she thinks much of tending upon her cows, saving all her milk, and making all the butter she can, and living quite independent and upon her own resources. She remarks frequently that in all probability she will not need help much longer. She thinks much of her new saddle and some other things got within the course of the year. I think myself that there is a kind of sympathy existing between her and the girls at this time on account of their mingling their sorrows in the hour of trial.

    I think much of your trials that [you] have to go through in taking care of our children. The whooping cough has been in these parts; some children in my school have the remains of it, as they will yet cough and whoop when warmed with running. None have died, and I know of no new cases. The rash has likewise prevailed some, but no new cases and no deaths by it. I have seen a receipt for the whooping cough which I think good, viz., one teaspoonful of molasses and one of castor oil given occasionally.

    Methodism is prospering tolerably in these parts; the Holiness fog has died away in a measure, and better feelings have taken [its] place. But the Holmes fray went beyond everything I ever thought of. It almost shattered Hayes's class to pieces.

    I have been so much hurried and worn out the week past that I have not had time to answer your letter, and I had some thoughts of not replying at all, as it will take all that remains in my purse to pay the postage. I expect that my school may be near its close before you receive this, or within eight or ten days, as it will not leave H_- until Thursday or Saturday. But [I] know my own feelings in regard to hearing from you, and concluded to write, as it is now more than one month since I wrote. If well, I probably may start for home the week after my school closes. Newton will be likely two weeks behind, as he has not kept as steady as I have. Since I began, I have only been out three days, besides Sundays: one day in visiting Drusilla the week before she died; one day at the funeral; and Smith, the union priest, occupied my schoolhouse in the examination of the people.

    I have [neither] seen nor heard anything of Charity since her return home. She then said she would return in two or three weeks, but probably has been prevented by the uncertain condition of the sleighing. The winter has been mild, not more than four or five days of snapping cold; some sleighing for ab