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 the Cornell University Library. 
 
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Cornell University Library 
 CS71 .B44 1888 
 
 Narratives, traditions and personal remi 
 
 oiin 
 
 3 1924 029 819 186 
 
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OlartteU Hmucraitjj ffitbrarg 
 
{Inscription on the south side of the Monument : ] 
 
 COL. BENJAMIN BELLOWS, 
 
 A WISE, COURAGEOUS, AND HONEST MAN, 
 
 BY A LARGE HOSPITALITY, 
 
 BY FAITHFULNESS AND ABILITY IN PUBLIC TRUSTS, 
 
 BY BRAVELY PROTECTING, 
 
 PRUDENTLY COUNSELLING, AND LIBERALLY AIDING 
 
 THE FRONTIER SETTLERS, 
 
 GAINED 
 
 THE RESPECT AND LOVE OF HIS CONTEMPORARIES, 
 
 AND MADE HIMSELF A PATTERN 
 
 FOR THOSE WHO SEEK TO BE 
 FATHERS OF COMMUNITIES. 
 
 {Inscription on the north side : ] 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 BENJAMIN BELLOWS, 
 
 THE FOUNDER OF WALPOLE, 
 
 WHO DIED 10 JULY, 1777, 
 
 AGED SIXTY-TWO YEARS, 
 
 THIS MONUMENT WAS ERECTED 
 
 IN THE YEAR 1854, 
 
 BY HIS NUMEROUS DESCENDANTS. 
 
MEDALLION ON THH WKST SIDE, 
 
 
 ON THE EAST, 
 
6flittitVgI|^^ 
 
 ARMS OF THE FAMILY OF BELLOWS OF U. S. N. AMERICA, from EN&LISH 
 BELLOWES OF LANCASHIRE.CORflUPTEO FROM THE BELLEWS OF DEVONSHIRE 
 AND IRELAND, FROM THE NORMAN OE BELLESEAUX, 
 
Narratives, Traditions 
 
 AND 
 
 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 CONNECTED WITH THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE BELLOWS 
 
 FAMILY AND OF THE VILLAGE OF WALPOLE, 
 
 NEW HAMPSHIRE. 
 
 BY 
 
 Mrs. EMILY R. BARNES, 
 
 THE OLDEST SURVIVING DESCENDANT OF COL. BENJAMIN BELLOWS, THE 
 FIRST SETTLER OF THE TOWN. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 GEO. H. ELLIS, 141 FRANKLIN STREET. 
 
 1888. 
 
 
COPYRIGHT, 
 BY EMILY K. BARNES, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Walpole, N.H., November, i8S6. 
 
 A BRIEF historical sketch of our race was given by Rev. 
 Dr. H. W. Bellows, at the time of the consecration of the 
 monument erected to our common progenitor, Col. Benjamin 
 Bellows, in 1854. A few copies of this were printed, and 
 eagerly purchased, by those who could be served from so 
 limited a number. 
 
 Since that time, more than twenty years ago, this book 
 has been widely sought by our kindred wishing to obtain 
 more knowledge of their ancestors ; and I have often been 
 urged to supplement that sketch with my own recollections, 
 as I am now the oldest living descendant. 
 
 In complying with this request, I have found a pleasant 
 occupation in these last years of my darkened life ; and I 
 would say to the kindred who may read these pages, do 
 not criticise too severely the work of one who has attained 
 nearly eighty-six years of age, and who for many years past 
 has been almost totally blind. I may add, that I have 
 drawn almost entirely upon my own recollections, and not 
 upon manuscript records or printed matter, for whatever this 
 book may contain. But, as Dr. Bellows' address at the 
 family gathering, in 1854, garnered up much which properly 
 belongs to this present narrative, I have felt at liberty to 
 make such extracts from the account of the family as seemed 
 of service in carrying out my plan. 
 
 Your friend and kinswoman, 
 
 Emily R. Barnes. 
 
[The following note accompanied the circular which was sent 
 to relatives and friends. It is inserted here, as setting forth the 
 character of this volume, as looked at by one of the kindred who 
 was familiar with many of the facts and scenes that are there in- 
 troduced.] 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 By Rev. Frederick N. Knapp, of Plymouth, Mass. 
 
 I have read the manuscript which Mrs. Barnes has pre- 
 pared for publication, entitled " Narratives, Traditions, and 
 Personal Reminiscences connected with the Early History 
 of the Bellows Family, and of the Village of Walpole, N.H." 
 
 I commend the book most cordially to all our friends and 
 kindred. It is a book peculiar in its design and treatment. 
 It would be open to all sorts of criticism from a person who 
 should read it for the purpose of reviewing it, either as a 
 history, or as a biography, or as a story; and yet the very 
 features which would thus subject it to criticism are just 
 what give the book its attractiveness and interest to mem- 
 bers of the family. 
 
 It is nothing more nor less than a rambling talk about the 
 old folks who have gone and the younger ones, now old, 
 when they were children ; what they did, and said, and were ; 
 where and how they lived ; whom they married, and when 
 they died ; how they helped themselves, and helped one 
 another, and helped the community around them ; how, as 
 a family, spreading wider and wider with each generation, 
 they were still closely knit together by strong family feeling 
 and by marked inherited characteristics ; how the emer- 
 gencies of earlier pioneer life were met, while the refine- 
 ments and amenities of social life were never lost or 
 forgotten ; how the growth and prosperity of the town, 
 
lO PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 which the original settler, Col. Bellows, had founded, were 
 the constant thought of himself and of his descendants ; who 
 some of the marked men and women of the town were, out- 
 side the family, but helping with them to fill up the picture 
 of those times. 
 
 There seems to be nothing to be designated as a regular 
 plan or sj'stem in the arrangement or the treatment of 
 topics in this book. It is, as I have said, more like a talk ; 
 as if one who had seen and remembered actual events of 
 nearly a century, and had at her command all the traditions 
 which had come down to her quick ears from her great- 
 grandparents, — as if such a one, seated in her easy-chair 
 at a social family gathering, were called upon, first by this 
 one of the kindred, then by another, from all the various 
 branches, without any order of coming, and asked to tell all 
 she knew about their immediate ancestors, especially if she 
 recollected anything about them in childhood, or as youths 
 and maidens, their ways and doings and personal appear- 
 ance. It is as if, thus surrounded and thus seated, in the 
 quiet dignity of old age and in the sacred and tender con- 
 fidence of home-life and kindred sympathies, — thus called 
 upon, — she were, in her own free, conversational way, to tell 
 of this person, then of that one, and of the times in which 
 they all lived. 
 
 Such seems to me the only " method " which is evident in 
 the writing of this book; namely, absence of all method, 
 excepting such as directs a fireside talk, when the topic is 
 one of common and hearty interest to all who ask the ques- 
 tions and who listen. 
 
 Thus written, the same individual may be referred to 
 in perhaps a dozen different places, and at times far apart, 
 as connected with this or that incident ; and, too, one who 
 perhaps chronologically ought to have appeared early in the 
 book comes in much later, for the simple and sufficient 
 reason that he was best remembered in connection with 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES II 
 
 some event or story which was just at that moment recalled 
 to the mind of the writer. 
 
 One other point I may mention. Prepared in this way, 
 there are innumerable instances in this narrative where the 
 eccentricities of individuals, the home-life, and the more 
 homely phases of life, too, with their embarrassments, fail- 
 ures, and disappointments, are set forth with the simplicity 
 which would mark a free talk among friends, — incidents 
 altogether too trivial in themselves and too personal to be 
 introduced into a book written for the reading public. 
 
 I make these statements in regard to what the book is, 
 and also in regard to what it is not (and does not profess to 
 be or wish to be), not so much to forestall criticism as to pres- 
 ent to friends and kindred what I hold to be the peculiar 
 feature of attractiveness in this volume, dedicated as it is to 
 those only who cherish the sentiments which gather around 
 the thought of an old family homestead. 
 
It must be fully borne in mind, that these narratives 
 deal almost entirely with those of the kindred who have 
 gone; and that none of the descendants, now living, 
 are named, excepting incidentally in connection with 
 some incident or record of their ancestors. Hence, 
 any individual reading these pages must not be disap- 
 pointed, or feel overlooked, if he does not find his own 
 name registered, or any mention in detail of his im- 
 mediate family, however large a place such name or 
 family might rightfully claim in a history brought down 
 to the present date. 
 
 And there is another thing that must also be borne 
 in mind ; it is this, that the writer, drawing her ma- 
 terial chiefly from her own store of personal recollec- 
 tions, will naturally have a great deal more to say in 
 regard to her own particular branch of the family than 
 concerning those with whom she was not in daily 
 contact, although those other branches, perhaps, would 
 furnish equally interesting illustrations of the strongly 
 marked characteristics of the individuals, and of the 
 habits and life of the times in which they lived, pro- 
 vided similar reminiscences could be recorded of their 
 sayings, doings, and familiar social intercourses and 
 home-life. 
 
 F. N. Knapp. 
 
8*1 
 
 _^£&^MS 
 
 Mrs, EMILY R. BARNES 
 lot the age of 88). 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 According to the best information we can obtain, 
 the first Bellows of whom any trace can be found in 
 America was John Bellows, who embarked in the 
 " Hopewell," of London, for New England, April i, 
 1635. He is entered in the list of passengers as "John 
 Bellows, aged twelve." He married Mary Wood, at 
 Concord, Mass., May 9, 1665, and was the grandfather 
 of Col. Benjamin Bellows, the founder of Walpole, 
 N.H. John Bellows had ten children, the youngest of 
 whom was Benjamin, born 1677. He married, in 1704, 
 Widow Willard, of Lancaster, Mass. Her maiden name 
 was Dorcas Cutler. Their son Benjamin was born 
 May 26, 171 2. 
 
 The family soon moved to Lunenburg, where the 
 mother died, at an advanced age, in 1747. The town 
 records of Lunenburg furnish abundant evidence of 
 the public spirit and importance of both the father of 
 our founder and of his son. The old homestead occu- 
 pied by the son Benjamin, and probably by his father 
 before him, is still standing. It is located in the 
 centre of the town, and was connected with a well- 
 tilled farm of eight hundred acres. It was in 1735, 
 October 7, that the son Benjamin married Abigail 
 
14 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 Stearns, the sister of the first settled minister of 
 Lunenburg. In 1754, he moved with his family to 
 the valley of the Connecticut, and founded the town 
 of Walpole, N.H. 
 
 He seems to have been led to locate at Walpole 
 under the following influences : his father had, in 
 1736, been one of a committee appointed by the gov- 
 ernor of Massachusetts to lay out towns on Connecti- 
 cut River. Through him the son doubtless learned 
 of the exceeding fertility and beauty of this section. 
 Afterward, prior to 1750, there was a controversy be- 
 tween New Hampshire and Massachusetts as to their 
 boundary line ; and a commissioner, with an engineer 
 or surveyor, was appointed by each State to meet to- 
 gether, run out, and settle the division line. Col. 
 Benjamin Bellows, of Lunenburg — for the son had 
 now obtained this military position — was appointed 
 the surveyor on the part of Massachusetts. Thus he 
 made the acquaintance of Benning Wentworth, the 
 governor of New Hampshire, who offered him, if he 
 would settle there, the choice of the unappropriated 
 townships. Thus, in connection with his brother-in- 
 law, Col. Jonathan Blanchard, and Col. Theodore Atkin- 
 son, he obtained his charter, removed from Lunenburg 
 in 1753, built a fort, and organized a town government. 
 For several years, during the Indian wars, the family 
 were obliged to live in a garrison. He retained his 
 valuable estate in Lunenburg, which he afterward, by 
 will, bequeathed to his youngest son Joseph. Col. 
 Bellows soon bought up the larger part of the rights 
 of his associates, as named in the charter, and thus 
 virtually controlled the entire township of Walpole. 
 At this time, his family consisted of himself and wife 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 5 
 
 and five children : Abigail, the oldest, seventeen years 
 of age; Peter, fourteen; Benjamin, thirteen; John, 
 eleven ; and Joseph, nine years old. The wife died in 
 1757, and was the first tenant of the burying-ground. 
 She was a woman noted for her force of character, her 
 piety, and her motherly tenderness. 
 
 The garrison house or fort, in which the family lived, 
 was built of logs and earth, and surrounded by a^ outer 
 palisade. Although a private house, it was so impor- 
 tant as to be named among the fortresses on the river, 
 and formed one in the regular line of defences. The 
 other fortresses were maintained at the public expense. 
 This garrison house was a hundred feet long and 
 twenty feet wide, with an L of nearly half that size. 
 In 175s, we find that Col. Bellows had within his fort, 
 beside his immediate family, thirty men employed in 
 his service, who went out to their work daily in the 
 fields or at the mill, with their muskets in their hands. 
 I give this picture of the position of Col. Bellows' early 
 dwelling, in order to convey some idea of the sacrifices 
 which were voluntarily made by those who, as pioneers, 
 left a home of comfort and abundance, to plant a new 
 community. 
 
 In 1758, Col. Bellows had married, as his second 
 wife. Widow Jennison, whose maiden name was Mary 
 Hubbard, a sister of the wife of Parson Stearns, of 
 Lunenburg. Their children were : Abigail, 2d, Theo- 
 dore, Thomas, Mary, Josiah ; so that at the time of his 
 death, in 1777, Col. Bellows had nine children living, 
 the youngest being ten years old. The Walpole news- 
 paper of February, 1794, contained the following 
 notice : — 
 
 "Died in this town, the 21st inst., Madam Mary 
 
1 6 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 Bellows, in the sixty-ninth year of her age, relict of the 
 late Col. Benjamin Bellows. As he had been a father 
 and chief proprietor of the town, so she was a mother 
 in our Israel. She was a woman of exemplary piety, 
 who made it her endeavor to keep a conscience void of 
 offence, both toward God and man ; a steady attendant 
 upon the public worship of God, and observer of the 
 institutions of the gospel ; an excellent economist, and 
 a charitable friend to the industrious poor. In her 
 death, the town hath lost one who contributed much, 
 in her sphere, to the building it up in its infant state. 
 As a wife, she loved and reverenced her husband, and in 
 her widowhood behaved with wisdom and propriety. 
 She was an indulgent as well as exemplary parent to 
 her numerous descendants, who have cause to rise up 
 and call her blessed. 'Blessed are the dead that die 
 in the Lord!' and their memory is precious. Her 
 funeral was attended by a great concourse of people, 
 from within town and without." 
 
 I have felt that these few pages, partly historical, 
 might seem a fit introduction to my somewhat rambling 
 narratives, which are now to follow; which, be it re- 
 membered, I do not attempt to present in any chrono- 
 logical order, but merely as, one by one, they come 
 to me. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 In recording the memories of so many years, leading 
 back to an early period in my life, I shall put down 
 my recollections of persons and events just as they 
 occur to my mind ; and, in gathering these scattered 
 fragments of the records of our race, it can easily be 
 imagined how unsatisfying this banquet of memories 
 may prove to many, who, coming to learn a little, may 
 have a keener appetite awakened for more knowledge 
 of their ancestors. Yet I trust that these homely affairs 
 of every-day life, when viewed from such a distance, 
 may not seem without interest and importance. The 
 stories written on the following pages are the simple 
 narratives of incidents and events, of most of which I 
 have had personal knowledge. 
 
 The traditions of our great-grandparents' home-life 
 always held out an especial attraction to me, and I once 
 had a glimpse given me into this ancient abode, which 
 my young imagination had always filled with beings 
 quite unlike other people. My child-mind had taken 
 strange fancies, when listening to the stories that were 
 related of the perils and dangers encountered, while 
 converting a wilderness into this lovely town, which 
 has been the birthplace and home of so many of our 
 kindred. 
 
 It was my Uncle Ben, when in a mood to tell stories 
 of his boyhood, who gave me an account of an early 
 visit he once made to these grandparents. " I don't 
 
l8 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 think," he said, " I was ever much of a boy, as I look 
 back upon the time when I should have been one." He 
 was quite young in years when called upon to perform 
 tasks for which much older boys at this time would 
 not be thought competent. He was not twelve years 
 of age when his father sent him from Lunenburg, 
 Mass., to Walpole, N.H., to carry an important busi- 
 ness message to his grandfather. It was in November, 
 and the weather cold for such a ride on horseback. 
 There was no other way of travelling at that time. 
 His mother, with some misgivings, prepared him as 
 comfortably as she could for the journey, drawing a 
 pair of his father's long woollen stockings over his legs 
 and shoes, and lining his mittens with fur. With a 
 few other preparations for his comfort, he set out 
 with all a boy's enthusiasm for an unknown country, 
 mostly through the woods. His father directed him to 
 reach a certain place the first day, and there put up for 
 the night. He was very plucky, bravely bearing the 
 cold and fatigue until within a few miles of the desired 
 haven, when he suddenly broke down, and, seeing a 
 comfortable looking farm-house not far distant, on 
 reaching it drew rein, and, with a few tears and some 
 explanations, asked a motherly-looking woman who 
 came to the door if he could have supper, and stay that 
 night. She quickly bade him dismount and give his 
 horse to the little boy, who stood with a look of vague 
 curiosity, examining this young traveller. He followed 
 the woman into the house, when she soon took o£E his 
 wrappings, and brought him before a huge fireplace, in 
 which was blazing one of those fires of the olden time, 
 such as we never see, but only hear about, in these days. 
 The warmth was very grateful, but still more so was a 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 19 
 
 large pot of boiled corn, — the unfailing supply of those 
 days, — hanging on the crane. It had evidently been 
 cooking through the day for the evening meal. His 
 look in that direction was quickly interpreted ; and a 
 bowl of milk, with a generous portion of hulled corn, 
 was placed in his hand ; and my uncle said, although 
 so many years had elapsed, he had not lost the sweet- 
 ness and savor of that delicious repast. 
 
 After a good night's rest and a substantial breakfast, 
 he set out again on his weary and lonely journey. He 
 met with no startling adventures, beyond occasionally, 
 though seldom, meeting some one travelling in the 
 same manner as himself, over a long, lonely stretch 
 of road. A pedestrian inquired where he was going. 
 He quietly answered, "To Walpole, N.H." — "Guess 
 so," the man gruffly said. "And what are you going 
 there for ? " — " That is my business, and none of 
 yours," he answered, giving his horse a spur, putting 
 some distance between himself and his questioner in 
 a short time. 
 
 He reached his grandfather's home at dusk, the sec- 
 ond day. The old gentleman received him with much 
 surprise, but great kindness, patting him on the head, 
 with evident pride to find in the boy so much courage 
 and endurance at such an early age. When supper 
 was ready, his grandfather ordered a chair to be placed 
 beside his own for the boy who had come alone from 
 Lunenburg, on horseback, at this inclement season. 
 When he had taken this seat of honor, he became so 
 strongly impressed with the magnitude of the table and 
 the great number of persons surrounding it, that a 
 feeling of shyness took possession of him, and for a 
 few minutes he would have preferred going without 
 
20 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 his supper. The old gentleman, who kept his eye 
 upon him, observing this, commenced talking merrily, 
 evidently for the purpose of reassuring him ; and, load- 
 ing his plate, at the same time, with a marvellous slice 
 of steak and a potato plentifully covered with gravy, 
 the temptation proved irresistible, and his appetite got 
 the better of his bashfulness. When he had gained 
 courage to look about, he was not surprised at the 
 variety or bountifulness of that hospitable board ; for 
 he was accustomed to all that at home, — the only 
 difference, it was not on quite so large a scale. His 
 father didn't kill a beef creature every week, as was 
 done here. 
 
 After thanks being given by the chaplain of the 
 family, one of the sons removed his father's chair to its 
 usual place, and he called my uncle to come and sit 
 by him, as he wanted to make some inquiries. He 
 then asked about everybody and everything at his 
 home, and then told him to give all the particulars of 
 his journey, which he did, not omitting the answer he 
 gave the man who inquired what his business might be. 
 His grandfather, patting him, laughingly said, "That 
 was right, my boy ; never feel compelled to answer im- 
 pertinent questions." 
 
 The old gentleman then called for his pipe, which 
 his wife filled and brought to him, seemingly as a labor 
 of love on her part, as she sat down quietly by his side 
 with her knitting, and watched the curling smoke as 
 it went upward ; and who can tell what thoughts ac- 
 companied it .■" 
 
 After one or two naps in a big chair in which my 
 uncle was seated during the process of smoking, he 
 suddenly awoke to the consciousness that the duties 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 2 1 
 
 of that (^ay were coming to a close. The grandfather 
 was giving some directions to one of his sons, and the 
 grandmother was bustling about with seemingly a good 
 deal of business on her hands. The subject of break- 
 fast was discussed with the girls, and other matters 
 arranged for the morrow, when she turned to her hus- 
 band, saying, "All is ready," and then seated herself 
 in a chair which she drew close to his side, placing her 
 hand in his, which he tenderly took ; then a tall, grave- 
 looking man arose with the younger members of the 
 household, who had all come in to this evening service 
 of pra}'er. 
 
 There were a few last things to be attended to after 
 this. Josiah, then a lad of ten, was called by his 
 mother to unbuckle his father's shoes, and turning to 
 my uncle, she said, " I guess you can hunt the cat and 
 bring her to me, and also the broom." It was her cus- 
 tom, according to an old-time fancy, to examine old 
 puss, to make sure that no stray coal of fire had lighted 
 on her back. And the broom was thoroughly inspected, 
 fearing some latent spark might be concealed some- 
 where, in readiness to burst into a blaze as soon as they 
 had all retired. It is a tradition that our grandmother 
 daily declared, " They will all be burned up, some- 
 time." 
 
 My uncle then, as ever afterward, had a keen sense 
 of the ridiculous ; and I have thought his humorous 
 way of telling this story, as no one else could, giving 
 a description of his wonderful activity in catching the 
 poor frightened creature, has done much toward per- 
 petuating the tradition of this particular weakness of 
 Uncle Ben's grandmother. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 There were seven sons and two daughters in our 
 great-grandfather's, Col. Benjamin Bellows' family, all 
 of whom I distinctly remember except three, Peter, 
 Benjamin, and Theodore. Although I had no personal 
 knowledge of these three uncles, I learned a great deal 
 about them through other members of the family. 
 
 My grandmother would relate the particulars of 
 some of her visits to this parental home, when she 
 and her husband would think they could safely leave 
 home by bringing two of the youngest children with 
 them ; and on these occasions it was expected they 
 would visit, in turn, all the brothers also. Peter, the 
 eldest son, who had married into a highly respectable 
 family in Charlestown, N.H., made his residence in 
 that place, having a large farm which his father as- 
 signed to him. 
 
 I can remember nothing of Uncle Theodore but a 
 few traditional anecdotes. He was a man of mighty 
 proportions and Herculean strength, — a warning to all 
 to beware how they aroused that sleeping lion, which 
 on suitable provocation could bid defiance to a dozen 
 common men. It is a tradition, that he stored many 
 barrels of cider each year for his own use, and would 
 take them into the cellar on his shoulder as easily as 
 most people could a pail of water. 
 
 I have only a vague recollection of Uncle Benjamin, 
 better known as " Uncle General." I could not have 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 23 
 
 been much more than two years old when I made the 
 attempt to crawl through a very narrow space, under 
 the gate, that led into his front yard; but it only 
 proved sufficient to admit head and shoulders, and then 
 the struggle commenced, as also did the terror in being 
 caught in such a trap. It was Uncle General who 
 released and carried me in his arms into the house, 
 where I was beguiled out of my trouble by a watch 
 held to my ear, and the bright buttons on his coat- 
 sleeve held up for my admiration. I suppose these 
 circumstances, also his kindliness, which children so 
 quickly recognize, served at that moment to impress 
 him forever on my memory. He died in that year; but 
 "Aunt General," as every one called her, lived until 
 I was sixteen years old. Her maiden name was Phebe 
 Strong, and she was the sister of Gov. Strong, of 
 Massachusetts. How well I remember her tall figure 
 and imposing dignity ; but still better the long sermons 
 I was sent to read to her on Sabbath afternoons. I 
 think it will not be irreverent to admit that I was more 
 deeply impressed at that time with the length than the 
 sentiment they contained, frequently reaching to the 
 sixthlies and seventhlies ; and I can now see the 
 wearied look on her face as she reverently listened 
 to the close. She would then say, " Thank you, child. 
 I think Parson Fessenden gives us pretty lengthy dis- 
 courses." She was an invalid a long time, and eventu- 
 ally had paralysis, losing the use of one arm entirely 
 for two or three years before she died. She had an 
 efficient and devoted attendant in a person by the 
 name of Maria Smith. I shall never forget the great 
 happiness we all had in planning for a visit, which was 
 brought about with some little difficulty. Aunt Louisa, 
 
24 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 who had come from Boston to spend the summer with 
 her brother, Mr. Abel Bellows, with whom my grand- 
 mother resided, was also deeply interested, knowing 
 what pleasure it would give her mother to receive one 
 more visit from this much beloved sister-in-law, "Aunt 
 General," the widow, too, of that brother whom they 
 had all loved so much. The difficult problem to be 
 solved was. How shall we bring her, helpless as she is .' 
 Aunt Louisa disposed of that difficulty very quickly. 
 She was always full of resources for all emergencies, 
 and said at once, "Why not bring her in a sleigh.'' 
 No matter if it is not sleighing ; it is only a short 
 distance." 
 
 Very soon a plenty of stout and loving arms were 
 volunteered to draw her over, and a nicely cushioned 
 arm-chair was set in a large sleigh, and she came to 
 the door in great state, and was most enthusiastically 
 received ; for it was, indeed, a triumph to get Aunt 
 General out of her room, where she had been so 
 long a prisoner. Each one, old and young, entered 
 into the spirit of the occasion. My grandmother was 
 particularly animated, it was an event so unexpected ; 
 and Aunt Louisa, who knew so well how to use her 
 fine powers of conversation, was made, in the excite- 
 ment, to almost surpass herself. And now this dear 
 old aunt, such a strong-minded woman, and for whom 
 we always had so much reverent respect, was once 
 more a child, and broke entirely down at the expres- 
 sion of so much kindness. There was one little 
 shadow cast over all this cheerfulness ; the thought 
 would come that this was in all probability her last 
 outing. Our foreboding proved only too true. When 
 the next springtime came, a little bird would come 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 25 
 
 and sit on the garden gate, and call, in its own plain- 
 tive tones, the name of her who had so recently gone 
 away ; and my grandmother, tearfully listening, would 
 say, in subdued tones, " Phebe can never come back 
 to us, but we are going to her." 
 
 For many years before her death, Aunt General, — it 
 was customary to distinguish these aunts by giving 
 them their husbands' titles, — with only one attendant, 
 occupied this home to which she was brought on 
 coming to Walpole, having known no other since leav- 
 ing the home of her girlhood. But what a picture 
 of desolation to those who had once shared its hospi- 
 talities, who had once sat in that large family circle 
 around the old hearth-stone, made even more invit- 
 ing by the bright brass fire-dogs and polished hearth ! 
 And who knows how many stories of early perils and 
 hair-breadth escapes may have been related, not for- 
 getting old Deacon Foster's humorous anecdotes and 
 sometimes very funny poetry ! 
 
 I gathered many interesting incidents of this home 
 of our ancestors from my Uncle Abel Bellows, with 
 whom I passed a few years before his marriage. My 
 grandmother, at this time, was considered the honored 
 head of this bachelor home, but was too far advanced 
 in years to assume any domestic duties. His house 
 was directly opposite the house of Aunt General's, 
 across the principal street. He always paid her the 
 most devoted attention, and spoke of her with tender 
 regard. He would never forget her kindness to him 
 while a member of her household, as he had been 
 during several years. His uncle employed him as a 
 clerk in the Register of Deeds office. He used to 
 say, that was the commencement of his business life, 
 
26 rF.RSONAl. RKMINISCKNCES 
 
 except the two days he was a tinman, and worked lor 
 Tom Swan. 
 
 Aunt General was fond of young iieo[ile ; their at- 
 tentions always seeraeil to jilease her, and she would 
 occasionally invite a few to "come and take leu with 
 her," as the invitation read. At one time, she was 
 employing a seamstress who liked a bit of inn, and 
 proposed to Aunt General to allow her to dress her- 
 self for our entertainment in an anticiue suit she had 
 discovered, which belonged to a very remote genera- 
 tion, and had long been an heirloom in the family. 
 When she entered the room in this quaint costume, 
 I think Aunt General enjoyed the scene quite as much 
 as ourselves. The girl put on the manners of that old 
 time, and she was declared by all present to be quite 
 an actress. 
 
 A touching incident occurred the winter following 
 the death of this dear old aunt. 
 
 A girl, by the name of Betsey, was a maid-of-all-work 
 in the general's family for more than twenty years. 
 She was a faithful and most efficient person in all the 
 departments of housekeeping, and received for her ser- 
 vices fifty cents per week, which was considered ample 
 compensation at this period. She must have com- 
 menced her services there when ipnte young, as she 
 was not yet forty when she was married to the faith- 
 ful sweetheart who had waited for her so patiently all 
 this time, consoling himself tlirough these lonely years 
 by working steadily to pay for the nice farm he had 
 purchased, so long ago, for " Ik'tsey and I." When 
 these two faithful hearts were at last united in the 
 bonds of matrimony, she brought to his farm such a 
 wealth of stock in cows, o.\en, horses, and sheep as 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 27 
 
 could hardly be credited by those who knew what her 
 yearly income must have been. My Uncle Abel, how- 
 ever, could throw a good deal of light upon the matter, 
 by giving a description — often in quite a humorous 
 way — of Betsey's toilet. Her working-dress in win- 
 ter was a coarse woollen fabric, spun and woven by her 
 own hands, and usually colored with a decoction of but- 
 ternut bark. One of these dresses was expected to 
 serve her a year, with the protection of a large plaid 
 woollen apron, which she invariably wore. Her shoes 
 were of the most substantial kind, able to go through 
 any amount of hardship with very little damage. It 
 might be supposed that, in such a costume, her appear- 
 ance could not have been very prepossessing. On the 
 contrary, my uncle said she always looked perfectly 
 neat, with her nicely kept hair; all which must be true, 
 for she served a family that could not have tolerated 
 untidiness. But Betsey's Sunday gown and shoes 
 were the two most important articles in her wardrobe. 
 Perhaps it will be well to say here, for the benefit of 
 the present generation who may not — in these days of 
 cheap calico — know that a nice print could not be pur- 
 chased for less than five shillings or one dollar per yard 
 at that period of time ; and Betsey's Sunday gown was 
 made of this material, and was worn with as much 
 scrupulous care as would have been a brocade silk. 
 Tradition says, that, when she stood up in it to pledge 
 her vows as a loving and faithful wife to this long pa- 
 tient man, it looked as fresh and bright as on that first 
 Sunday she wore it to church, twenty years before. The 
 calf-skin shoes that always accompanied this dress to 
 church for the same number of years, I am not prepared 
 to vouch for their presence on this important occasion. 
 We can only suppose it to be possible. 
 
2S PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 The stories I used to hear about Betsey, when I was 
 quite a young girl, were more deeply impressed on my 
 mind by quite a pathetic incident that took place the 
 winter following Aunt General's death. It was a cold, 
 stormy day in December, when, some time in the after- 
 noon, the knocker on the side door was vigorously 
 sounded. My grandmother, who sat knitting in her 
 warm corner, looked up with surprise, saying, "Who 
 can have come in such a terrific storm as this .' " I 
 went to the door quickly as possible, and saw stand- 
 ing on the steps a woman, quite advanced in years, 
 who hastily said, " I am told Mr. Abel Bellows lives 
 here.'' The fine snow was whirling through the open 
 door into my face, and I answered by taking her hand, 
 drawing her into the entry ; and then, opening the sit- 
 ting-room door, I took her in, and placed a chair before 
 the bright, blazing fire, where she seated herself, 
 nearly exhausted. She sat a few moments, looking 
 steadily at my grandmother, and then said : " Nobody 
 knows me ! I have come, for the first time in twenty 
 years, to see once more the old home where I lived so 
 long, and the folks I had learned to love so well and 
 can never forget ! " Breaking down at this moment, 
 she sobbed out, " They are all dead ! " My uncle coming- 
 in, and giving one look, exclaimed, "Why, Betsey! this 
 is more than I could ever have dreamed ! " and, turning 
 to me, said, " Help her to take off those snowy gar- 
 ments." When grandmother became aware it was she 
 who had served so long in the general's family, she 
 gave her a cordial welcome, while Uncle Abel went to 
 order some refreshment. 
 
 Her story was briefly told. She had improved the 
 opportunity to come with a neighbor, who had business 
 
PERSOXAL REMIXI5CEXCES 2C} 
 
 here. It was a two days' ride ; and, on this last day, 
 she was overtaken bv the storm, and with great diffi- 
 culty they reached here. She said, when they drove 
 into the yard where there was always so much activity 
 and life, the look of utter desolation gave her such a 
 heart-throb as she had never felt before. And, when 
 a stranger came to the door, and informed her those 
 she soUj,ht w-ere long since dead and buried, but she 
 would find a Mr. Bellows across the street, she could 
 hardly gather sufficient strength to come to us. My 
 uncle was busUj- anxious to make the old lady as com- 
 fortable as possible, beguiling her out of her trouble as 
 much as possible by talking over the old times, when 
 he was not much more than a boy, and how he had 
 not forgotten the good things she would cook with 
 especial reference to his liking. Although Betsey's 
 dress gave e\-ident signs that she still adhered to the 
 old-time economy, she was treated like a queen. In 
 this, as in other instances, I can remember my uncle 
 showed the Bellows' high ideal of hospitality and 
 politeness. He could understand there were circum- 
 stances which cou-d make it not only kind, but noble, 
 to waive all distinctions of caste. This poor woman 
 was detained two days, the drifted roads making it 
 impossible to travel. During these two da\'5, I had the 
 opp)ortunit}" to listen to several long conversations 
 which tnis woman entered into with much animation 
 and pathos, especially when calling up old memories of 
 the "gineral,'' as slie persisted in calling him. " \\"hy, " 
 she would sav, "'who could help doin^; just right who 
 lived there ? He never found any fault, only told us to 
 do a thing, and we did it the best we knew how, be- 
 cause it was for him. I shall never forget his picture," 
 
30 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 she continued, "as he sometimes walked through the 
 kitchen, when he would always have a kind word for 
 us. He was a dreadful handsome man ! But I was 
 scared once, when I laughed in prayer time. It was a 
 cold morning, and his brother Theodore, who came 
 pretty often to see him, was there, and came into the 
 sitting-room after prayer was begun, and left the door 
 open. The gineral turned round, and said : ' Shut that 
 door, Theo-dore,' emphasizing the last syllable of his 
 name in such a way as made INIrs. Bellows smile, and 
 I couldn't stand it." As she recalled this circumstance 
 to Uncle Abel's mind, they had a hearty laugh. 
 
 I can remember her grateful recollections of Uncle 
 General's care for her pecuniary interest, always telling 
 her when he paid her wages how she had better invest 
 it. It was customary, in those days, for people to put 
 a cow or a sheep out with some farmer to double the 
 stock, in so many years' time. Betsey had done this ; 
 and the general had made it a personal business to look 
 after her property; and, when she was at last mar- 
 ried, there was such a drove of cattle and sheep left 
 town with her that people turned out to see the sight, 
 and remembered it long afterward ! 
 
 On the third day, the roads were deemed passable, 
 and the man who had brought Betsey came to take her 
 home again. She left, feeling somewhat consoled for 
 her great disappointment by the kind and tender sym- 
 pathy given her by these relatives of the famil}- she 
 had come to visit. After preparing a generous basket 
 of lunch, they kindly shook, for the last time, the old 
 hand that had in the long ago done so many things for 
 their comfort, and then saying, not good-by, but the 
 good old Saxon phrase, farewell. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 3 1 
 
 At that time, Uncle General had been dead fifteen 
 years. There is no one living now whose eyes have 
 rested on that majestic form, moving about with so 
 much dignity of manner amidst his fellow-townsmen 
 as to command at once their respect. 
 
 At the time of the erection of the monument to the 
 memory of Col. Bellows, the founder, Rev. Dr. Bellows, 
 in his address on that occasion, gave a lengthy sketch 
 of the general's public services both in time of war and 
 of peace, paying a high tribute of praise to his many 
 excellences of character. No one had ever wielded so 
 much and so beneficent an influence in the town, since 
 the days of his father. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 When the general died, in 1802, he left only two 
 children, Col. Caleb Bellows, his only son, and Mrs. 
 Phebe Grant, his only living daughter. Their first 
 child, a daughter, whose name was Mary, died at the 
 age of eighteen. I used to hear her ver)- often spoken 
 of in my early life, and always as one of exceeding 
 loveliness of character and much personal beaut}'. 
 Her death was a terrible blow, casting a cloud over 
 that household, the shadow of which seemed ever after- 
 ward to rest there. Phebe married ^laj. Samuel Grant, 
 who for long )'ears, until his death, at a ripe old age, 
 was one of the solid, reliable men of Walpole, marked 
 by his suavity of manner, his sound judgment, his 
 success in business. 
 
 Mrs. Grant's home was within a few rods of her 
 father's mansion, — a handsome residence, which her 
 father built for her, and which she occupied as long 
 as she lived. There were six children, four sons and 
 two daughters. The oldest son died at sea. There is 
 but one of the six children now living. The second 
 daughter, Sarah, was nearly my own age, with whom, 
 during our girlhood, I alwaj's had pleasant companion- 
 ship, until marriage caused our paths to widely diverge. 
 
 As I now gaze over the wide chasm of nearly sev- 
 enty years, since I last looked upon that sweet, laugh- 
 ing face, so full of fun, how vividly I can recall every 
 lineament of feature and expression ! I can also re- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 33 
 
 member the many serious councils we have held upon 
 questions of dress or etiquette, on receiving invitations 
 to be present where we wished very much to be per- 
 fect in both. These two questions were often quite 
 puzzling to our young heads, left without a guide. 
 Our grandmother was so far advanced in years as to 
 take little interest in the conventionalities of society, 
 and Mrs. Grant had one strongly marked peculiarity, 
 which was never explained to her friends, whom she 
 always received cordially at her own home, but she 
 never mingled at all in society after leaving her father's 
 home ; therefore Sarah could not consider her as reli- 
 able authority on such momentous questions. 
 
 At this time, I was fifteen years old, Sarah was a 
 little younger, and, as the distance was short that 
 divided our homes, it can easily be supposed our com- 
 munications were frequent, especially at this particular 
 period, when we had a dancing school on our hands. 
 There were also many excursions in the spring and 
 summer, — among other things, for wild berries. The 
 early strawberries known at that time were such as we 
 children sought in the fields, which were much more 
 delicious in taste and fragrance than those cultivated 
 now. Our raspberries were also obtained in the same 
 manner; but the way we picked them I think would 
 be worthy of imitation now. 
 
 How distinctly I can recall the dancing school we 
 attended, so unlike any other ever taught here ! Cotil- 
 lions were then introduced, and the fancy dances were 
 specially marvellous. But still more so was the 
 teacher himself. Were it possible, one might suppose 
 he was the veritable Mr. Turveydrop that Dickens in- 
 troduced or brought back to the world some years ago. 
 
34 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 Dickens certainly must have borrowed his costume 
 and deportment from our old-time teacher. 
 
 As most young people like to dance, we greatly 
 enjoyed this opportunity of learning something new 
 in that department, as well as some other lessons he 
 gave that were quite as important. He was a gentle- 
 man, and well-posted in the etiquette of that time. I 
 have reason to remember well the fancy dance that 
 Sarah and myself were to go through with on the last 
 evening of the school. It was necessary that our cos- 
 tume should be especially appropriate. There were 
 no dressmakers and costumers then as now. We had 
 only our own native genius to depend upon ; and, where 
 Sarah was interested, I was always sure of success, 
 for she was a born genius in many things. Wholly 
 unlike other girls I had known, she was full of eccen- 
 tricities, which would crop out in the most unexpected 
 ways. Her wild exuberance would as often surprise 
 as amuse us. I can see her, at this moment, hastily 
 coming across the street into the front yard ; and, 
 running up the steps into the hall with her light brown 
 hair hanging about her face and neck, just careless 
 enough to look pretty, she would take a peep through 
 the door which always stood open into the sitting- 
 room, where grandmother, when sewing or knitting, 
 would always be seen in her low-cushioned chair, and, 
 saying good-morning, she would vault out quite three 
 feet in the air, as a bird flies, calling me to come and 
 practise again with her those difficult steps in the 
 fancy dance we were to go through in the evening, 
 which was the close of that long-remembered .school. 
 
 How clearly I recall the many unsuccessful attempts 
 we made to conquer that wonderful leap, bringing up 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 35 
 
 just at the right place and ending with an indescribable 
 performance of toe and heel. But the most amus- 
 ing part of all this was at the end of every unsuccess- 
 ful effort, when Sarah would improvise a gymnastic 
 which only she could perform. Dear old grandmother ! 
 How she would try to look grave when we were in the 
 midst of those wild pranks ; but she would break down 
 at last, in a convulsion of laughter, for Sarah would 
 always have an extra touch that would compel it. 
 
 Perhaps I am lingering too long at this shrine of 
 our girlhood, — -that bright and lovely spot in my exist- 
 ence to look back upon, now nothing but a memory, 
 filled with flickering lights and shadows. 
 
 A few more years, and young womanhood is attained. 
 At this time, Sarah was married to Dr. Hosmer of 
 Watertown, Mass. Her matrimonial life was of short 
 duration. She was soon called away from her pleas- 
 ant earthly home, leaving a devoted husband and one 
 of her two daughters, the other having gone before her. 
 
 It is of this surviving daughter — this peculiarly 
 gifted one of our race — to whom I wish to call the 
 attention of those of our kindred who may know little 
 or nothing about her, as she has lived abroad the 
 greater portion of her life. But those of us who do 
 know her, how can we speak the name of Harriet 
 Hosmer without a thrill of conscious pride ! 
 
 I cut from a London paper, some years ago, a beau- 
 tiful tribute paid her by Lady Erskine, who was then 
 staying in Rome, and was the personal friend of an 
 old and celebrated English sculptor. It was he who 
 introduced to her ladyship Miss Hosmer, who was then 
 at work with him in his studio as a pupil. 
 
 Lady Erskine considered it the greatest compliment 
 
36 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 that could have been paid her, for she was the first 
 pupil he had ever received. She had many times be- 
 sought him to become her teacher, but not until he 
 had seen some of the marvellous specimens of her 
 genius would he consent. This great artist had be- 
 come an invalid from the long years of study and 
 work. He had also acquired many peculiarities, hav- 
 ing never married any one but his art, and had wholly 
 excluded himself from society. She, on her part, could 
 bring as many eccentricities to match them, and Lady 
 Erskine said, "It was delightfully entertaining to see 
 these two, so unlike, working together so harmoniously, 
 always yielding with the utmost respect to each other's 
 idiosyncrasies. But," she continued, "what was still 
 more touching, no daughter could give him more tender 
 care, or bestow more devoted attention than she, dur- 
 ing the last few painful years of his life." 
 
 Now the sad thought comes to my mind, — this 
 noble and gifted woman is the only one living who can 
 tell the story of her childhood's home ; but the memory 
 of her sweet mother's girlhood is as fresh and fragrant 
 as in the first hour of our parting. 
 
 It is so recently that the last and youngest son of 
 Mrs. Grant — she, the daughter of Gen. Bellows — has 
 passed away, that we have not yet become accustomed 
 to the void he has left. 
 
 For many years, of late, he has spent the winter 
 months in the city of New York, taking with him his 
 only surviving daughter, and returning in the early 
 springtime to his home, so long made desolate by the 
 loss of his wife and two lovely children. 
 
 Our cousin, George Grant, was one not soon to be 
 forgotten. He had too many characteristics that could 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 37 
 
 not fail to impress his memory upon his friends. He 
 had a fund of quaint humor, and he would often show 
 the kindness of his heart in the most peculiar ways. 
 If he wished to give poor neighbors some of his abun- 
 dance, they would find it put through a window where 
 he knew it would soon surprise them. I cannot for- 
 get the favor with which he regarded cats, animals to 
 which most gentlemen have an antipathy. It was very 
 amusing to see how he could enjoy the frolics of a pair 
 of playful kittens. 
 
 At one time, I was first made aware of his return 
 home, when, coming out of church, he laid his hand 
 on my arm, saying he had an important question to 
 ask. After walking a short distance, he said, in a low 
 tone, " Emily, can you tell me where I can find a pair 
 of gilt-edged kittens } I arrived yesterday, and I wish 
 to get them all ready for Nelly when she arrives." 
 
 I can recall much in his life showing the originality 
 and brightness of his mind. He left one son and one 
 daughter, to bear his name and honor his memory. 
 
 The honored name of her father, Benjamin Bellows, 
 was given by Mrs. Grant to her second son ; who, after 
 many years engaged in mercantile life in Boston, re- 
 tired to a delightful home at Walpole, where he passed 
 his remaining days, interested always in the improve- 
 ment and adornment of his native village. He mar- 
 ried Mary Bellows, daughter of Uncle Si ; their two 
 sons, Benjamin Bellows and Edward, both surviving 
 their father and mother. It was to Mr. B. B. Grant 
 that the kindred were very largely indebted for the 
 success of the delightful family gathering at the time 
 of the dedication of the monument, in 1854. He was 
 the efficient chairman of the committee of arrange- 
 
38 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 merits, and the presiding officer over the feast. His 
 thorough business methods, joined to his peculiar ur- 
 banity of manner, rendered him a fit man to fill both 
 these offices. Another child of Mrs. Grant was Phebe, 
 named for her mother, who married Leonard Stone of 
 Watertown, Mass., where she brought up a family of 
 sons and daughters ; one of whom returned to Wal- 
 pole as the wife of Dr. Kittredge, bringing with her 
 the energy and executive efficiency which have marked 
 so many of the race, and made them always foremost 
 in everything that concerned the best interests of 
 whatever community they might be planted in. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Col. Caleb Bellows, in his early life, was distin- 
 guished as the only son of that most honored indi- 
 vidual, Gen. Benjamin Bellows ; but he soon made a 
 name for himself. How he won his commission, or 
 from whom he received it, I do not know ; but, at that 
 period in our history, it seems to have been customary 
 for every gentleman of any force of character or posi- 
 tion in society to hold a commission, or have some 
 title appended to his name ; and, if we can be allowed 
 to distinguish this class exclusively by their titles, Wal- 
 pole was highly favored in that line. 
 
 I shall never forget the glowing description my 
 mother used to give of an event which took place at 
 this period. It was something in which a large por- 
 tion of the community seemed to have a deep interest. 
 There had been a long preparation for this event, 
 which was the marriage of Gen. Bellows' only son 
 Caleb to the only daughter of Esquire Hartwell, of 
 New Ipswich. As I was only eight or nine years old, 
 this story had all the charm of a romance ; and my 
 young imagination formed a picture that might well 
 compare with some of the marvellous things we read 
 about. 
 
 This union of Cousin Caleb, my mother would say, 
 with Miss Polly Hartwell was mutually approved by 
 her and his parents. She had the reputation of being 
 one of the best educated young ladies in New England, 
 
40 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 and, what was also of great importance, she had a 
 strictly religious training by her parents, who were of 
 the old Puritan type. 
 
 Notwithstanding the great difficulty of communicat- 
 ing with foreign parts in those times,— forty miles 
 at that time standing for almost half as many hundred 
 at the present day, — everything that could be known of 
 this celebrated young lady and her antecedents found 
 their way to Walpole. Speculation was rife, and curi- 
 osity on tiptoe. How did she look ? Did she know 
 anything but Latin and Greek } And, what was of still 
 more importance, would the colonel bring her home 
 on a pillion ? Well, these anxiously curious people had 
 not long to wait for an answer to these important ques- 
 tions. The colonel had imparted to two or three of his 
 familiar friends — the names of a few of whom I have 
 already given — the morning of his departure, and the 
 time of his return, when he would bring with him to 
 this lovely home, that was now prepared and awaiting 
 her, the bride he had long sought, and who had now 
 consented to preside over this beautiful establishment. 
 
 On the morning of his departure from Walpole, two 
 or three gentlemen stood on the sidewalk awaiting his 
 appearance ; and when, on his beautiful black horse, 
 his coat gleaming liked burnished steel in the sun, and 
 elegantly caparisoned, he bounded from his father's 
 door on to the highway, hats were raised, and circled 
 above their heads, he answering with a military salute 
 as he dashed on ; and many good wishes were shouted 
 after him until he reached the foot of the hill, when 
 he disappeared from sight. 
 
 On the day when he was to return with his bride, all 
 the nearest relatives, with a few invited friends, occu- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 41 
 
 pied the spacious parlors of the new mansion, while 
 a group of gentlemen stood in the grounds outside, 
 watching for their approach. A delegation on horse- 
 back had gone out to meet the bridal party on their 
 way from Keene ; and, as they swept by the old meet- 
 ing-house, the bell, in more vigorous strokes than ever 
 before, rung out the hour of noon. The distance was 
 now short, and in a few minutes the cavalcade came 
 dashing through the open gateway in gallant style up 
 to the door. She was mounted on her beautiful horse 
 called Sappho, whose splendid trappings nearly threw 
 the colonel into the shade. Her tall figure and dig- 
 nified bearing, as she alighted, won at once the admira- 
 tion of all ; and she was received outside as gentlemen 
 only know how to honor a lady, and was soon con- 
 ducted within, where she found hosts of warm hearts 
 and hands to give her greeting. 
 
 I have noted down this tradition of our Cousin 
 Caleb's wedding, perhaps not in the same words, but 
 with the incidents the same as my mother related them 
 to me. 
 
 There was one important item in which my memory 
 is at fault, or she omitted to say anything about it ; but 
 it will be in keeping with the traditions of our race to 
 suppose that there was a banquet prepared worthy of 
 the occasion, such as our grandmothers knew so well 
 how to set before their distinguished guests ; and this 
 may have foreshadowed the many hospitable entertain- 
 ments in the coming years seen at that bountiful board. 
 
 And now I have something to say about my own 
 grandfather, Col. Joseph Bellows, youngest son of Col. 
 Benjamin Bellows, the founder. He had always lived 
 in Lunenburg on the old paternal estate, which was 
 
42 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 his inheritance; and I have heard my uncles say it 
 comprised the greater section and best part of the 
 town ; and there was the birthplace of my grand- 
 father's fourteen children. I have heard my grand- 
 mother say, with evident pride, that she had ten boys 
 to cut and make for; and she always added, "your 
 grandfather kept me supplied with plenty of material." 
 
 I have often painted this dear old home in my imagi- 
 nation as I have heard it described. It must have been 
 more remarkable for its size than elegance. It was one 
 of the first large square houses built in that town, and 
 it was of necessity spacious, to accommodate his own 
 large family and the number of persons he always em- 
 ployed and the guests he always welcomed. 
 
 There were several servants regularly employed, and 
 in certain seasons of the year, particularly in spinning 
 time, a large increase of help was necessary ; and on 
 this large estate there were also many farm hands 
 constantly at work, making in the total an enormous 
 family. 
 
 It may be readily inferred that our grandfather was 
 one of the leading citizens of the town, and he was 
 called to hold some of the most important public 
 offices. His judgment in difficult cases was often 
 sought, and no one who knew him ever doubted his 
 courage and stanch integrity. 
 
 A little story, of not much importance in itself, 
 occurs to me here, which grandmother used to relate 
 when there was a sufficient number of us together to 
 listen ; for, when she related any adventure, especially 
 if grandfather happened to be the hero, she always 
 liked to have a pretty respectable audience. As I 
 now look through the long vista of intervening years. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 43 
 
 how vividly I can see that little circle around her 
 chair, each one striving to get the nearest place beside 
 her, but which was usually accorded to our younger 
 cousin Harry, — a frail little fellow then, but who lived 
 to become a vigorous man, and the chief justice of the 
 State of New Hampshire. 
 
 She would usually commence her story, by giving 
 a description of the two girls who had been in the 
 family a long time, and not at all given to foolish fears. 
 The sleeping apartments of the girls opened upon a 
 long piazza on one side of the house, and at one end 
 a few steps led down into a large woodshed. 
 
 It was in the early part of winter, and a number of 
 men were employed in cutting and drawing wood from 
 the forest, providing thus the yearly supply, and huge 
 piles of logs were lying about in the yard. Our grand- 
 mother's domestic affairs were conducted with much 
 system and order; and, at the usual hour for closing 
 the doors for the night, she went into the kitchen to 
 give orders for breakfast, and see to many other things 
 which she made her especial duty to attend to, the 
 most important of which was to see that the fires were 
 all left safe. There were no stoves in use at that time, 
 but large open fireplaces in each room. The kitchen 
 fireplace was a marvel of comfort and convenience, 
 affording ample room for a dozen persons or more 
 at a time to make themselves comfortable before its 
 bright and genial warmth. This winter fire was not 
 permitted to go out from the time it was lighted in 
 the autumn until the warm spring weather made it no 
 longer necessary. Perhaps some of our readers may 
 ask in what these winter fires differed so much from 
 those at other seasons of the year. They were made 
 
44 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 by placing two huge green logs of six-foot wood in 
 the back part of the fireplace, the lower ones some- 
 what larger than the top, — often two feet in diameter, 
 and six or eight feet long ; and they were kept burn- 
 ing, by piling smaller wood that was dry in front, which 
 was easily kept ablaze, making the room look so bright 
 and cheerful ! After she had looked to the safety of 
 things in general, and the fires in particular, she no- 
 ticed that the girls were gazing anxiously out of the 
 window, and inquired what they saw. They answered, 
 " Not anything ; " but, as they still lingered, she be- 
 came a little impatient, and bade them go to bed. 
 They then told her they were so deeply impressed 
 with a feeling that some one was hanging about the 
 premises, intent on mischief, that they did not dare to 
 cross the piazza. Grandmother then took the candle, 
 and said, " I will go with you, and we will hunt up this 
 mysterious being that so haunts your imagination ! " 
 She then looked in every nook, closet, and corner of 
 their room, and then said, " Now, we will go down into 
 the woodshed ; " and, giving no time for words, she 
 hastily ran down the steps, bidding them follow her. 
 After looking behind everything that could conceal a 
 burglar, and discovering nothing, the girls were suffi- 
 ciently reassured to go to bed without any further 
 trouble. 
 
 It was the custom, in this house, to retire early to 
 rest, and rise early in the morning. I think it must 
 have been a lifelong habit with our grandmother, as 
 she would almost daily remark that an hour in the 
 morning was worth two in the afternoon. Five o'clock 
 was the hour appointed for rising, in winter, as well 
 as in summer ; and, as all were expected promptly to 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 45 
 
 observe this family rule, we can easily imagine the 
 bustle and stir of such a house full of men, women, and 
 children getting ready for breakfast and the duties of 
 the day. On this morning that followed the search 
 for burglars, grandfather was awakened by a great 
 uproar and confusion in the kitchen. His ears were 
 assailed with a strange vocabulary of words, for that 
 house. He was soon in the midst of the confusion, 
 however, and there was no need of inquiring the cause, 
 as it was already apparent. The table showed the 
 remains of a banquet, and his men all stood there, with 
 no clothing but their pantaloons. The weather was 
 severely cold; and, at such times, the workmen were 
 allowed to place their boots, coats, and caps, with other 
 things for comfort, around the huge fireplace, to make 
 them warm for an early departure into the woods ; and 
 not a thing could be found to put on their backs or 
 feet. Grandmother was quickly up, and searching for 
 garments ; but the greatest trouble was to find some- 
 thing for their feet. It was now sufficiently evident 
 that burglars had really been in the house ; and, as 
 soon as breakfast was despatched, grandfather ordered 
 his horse, and was off like the wind. He soon rallied 
 a force, and procured a warrant, finding that his house 
 was not the only one robbed. 
 
 There was a family named Scott, living about a mile 
 from the village, who had been harboring some suspi- 
 cious looking characters, and it was their house he in- 
 tended to search. The sun had but just risen, when 
 he with his men were at the door ; and, placing them 
 so as to prevent any escape, he gave a heavy knock on 
 the door. After waiting a few minutes, a chamber win- 
 dow was raised, and a woman put her head out, inquir- 
 
46 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 ing what was wanted. He told her he had come with 
 authorit)- to search her house for a burglar she was 
 suspected of harboring. She declared there was no 
 one but herself and daughter in the house ; her hus- 
 band was away. He then answered that he would 
 be more sure after looking for himself. He told her 
 to open the door, or they would be compelled to open 
 it for themselves. When she saw what a force of 
 men was gathered about the door, she opened it in 
 great agitation, still declaring that no one but herself 
 and daughter w^ere there. The men followed grand- 
 father into the house, when he ordered her to show 
 them every apartment. After looking over the base- 
 ment, they proceeded up-stairs. After examining sev- 
 eral apartments, which she said were all, one of thfe 
 men pointed to a dark entr}'-wa}". at the end of which 
 he discovered a narrow door. When she saw them all 
 going towards that, she threw up her hands, saying, 
 " Now there will be blood-shed ! " They soon discov- 
 ered the door was locked on the inside ; and, when 
 admittance was demanded, a voice within answered, 
 "The first one who enters this room is a dead man I" 
 At this, there w-as a short consultation, which ended 
 by three of the most powerful of their number offering 
 to throw themselves simultaneously against the door 
 with grandfather, thus making their sudden entrance 
 a surprise, which was their only safety. He quickly 
 said he would lead if they would follow ; and, giving 
 the signal, with one bound the}- stood before the 
 wretch, whom they now had entirely in their power. 
 He was armed with a bowie knife, and other weapons 
 they found in his room. He proved to be a notorious 
 burglar, and was arrested. The famil)' also were im- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 47 
 
 prisoned, and when his guilt and theirs was proved, he 
 was sentenced to be hung; and the Scott family, ac- 
 cording to the style of that day, to be branded on the 
 forehead as thieves. He made a confession, in which 
 he said it had been his intention to kill the first person 
 who should discover him, on the night that grand- 
 mother searched in the woodshed : and, at one time, 
 she was not more than two yards away from the place 
 of his concealment. It was his intention to have taken 
 all the silver he could find. But he had only finished 
 his banquet, finding a goodly supply of dainties, when 
 he heard some one moving, and, knowing there were 
 quite a number of men in the house, he thought a re- 
 treat most prudent, and had only time to gather up the 
 men's clothing hanging about the fireplace. 
 
 At this period, we were governed by the English 
 code of laws, which still retained some of their me- 
 diaeval barbarity. They would hang a poor man as 
 soon for stealing a rabbit, or a poor mother for taking 
 a loaf of bread to keep her little children from perish- 
 ing with hunger, as they would for taking a large sum 
 of money. I hope that they have learned to make 
 more just distinctions. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 • 
 
 I HAVE many times been asked for my Grandmother 
 Bellows' maiden name. I will answer here, it was Lois 
 Whitney, — a name, that of Whitney as well as that of 
 Bellows, that has never been found on a criminal cal- 
 endar. She was the daughter of Benjamin Whitney, of 
 Littleton, j\Iass. He had an extensive landed estate, 
 which he inherited, and on which he lived, occupying, 
 perhaps, a house of his ancestor. It was a large and 
 convenient house, giving sunshine and shade to all who 
 dwelt within, and a warm and kindly welcome to the 
 many who liked to visit this rural home. 
 
 In some of the sketches grandmother gave of her 
 early life, she would sometimes allude to the struggle 
 her Mother Whitney had in taking care of this place 
 while her father was away, as he, with many others in 
 that vicinity, had been drafted into the English army 
 to fight the French, who were then holding possession 
 of Canada. All the steady help our great-grandmother 
 could obtain was a boy of eighteen years, and who was 
 not remarkable for his courage. There were a few men 
 who were not thought fit for service left behind, and in 
 haying and harvesting time would unite and help each 
 other. At this time, our grandmother was a child of 
 fourteen years of age, and she, with her sister Susan, 
 who was eleven, were the only children of this house- 
 hold. 
 
 This little Susan was a fair-haired, pretty child, and 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES. 49 
 
 a great pet with her older sister. There is a story our 
 grandmother would tell us, with which we were always 
 greatly entertained ; and she seemed to enjoy relating 
 it, for the reason her little sister had such a prominent 
 place in it. It was in haying time, and the neighbors 
 were now aiding in getting the hay from a meadow 
 which could be distinctly seen from the house. To 
 reach this field, it was necessary to cross a strip of 
 swampy land, where a causeway had been made. She 
 would explain this to us as a kind of bridge or drive- 
 way, made by filling in a low place until it was solid 
 enough and sufficiently broad to enable the teams to 
 pass over, bringing the produce from the fields to the 
 barn and house. On each side of this bridge, im- 
 mensely tall grasses and cat-tails were growing in the 
 murky earth. It was on one side of this bridge a 
 battle was fought, which may not have found its way 
 into history, but is none the less worthy to be kept 
 as an incident of the family journal, telling of courage 
 and perseverance. These two qualities, it has been 
 many times proved our great-grandparents possessed 
 in large measure. 
 
 As I have already said, it was haying time, and this 
 little Susan was sent every forenoon with refresh- 
 ments to the men in the field. It was observed that 
 she looked a little pale on returning, one day, and, 
 being questioned as to the cause, said she thought 
 there was a great snake in the swamp, that looked at 
 her when she crossed the bridge. Her mother, think- 
 ing it was all imaginary, as she was a timid child, said 
 it must have been a big cat-tail which her imagination 
 had conjured into a snake. On the next day, when 
 she saw her mother preparing the basket for her to 
 
Jo PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 take to the field, she refused to go, until her sister 
 coaxed her, oy saying she would stand at the door, 
 where she could see her all the way. As she reached 
 the field, giving no sign of alarm, her sister turned 
 from the door to perform some household duty, intend- 
 ing to return to her watch before the child had time 
 to reach the causeway ; when she soon heard a pierc- 
 ing scream, and, rushing out to meet her, the child 
 pointed to an object that might intimidate something 
 more than a little child : it was the head of a monster 
 serpent, raised a foot above the tall grasses ! Its neck 
 was curved like the nose of a tea-kettle, and, as it rap- 
 idly turned its head, which was as large as a person's 
 hand, its eyes seemed to throw out livid streams of fire. 
 
 As soon as Grandmother Whitney heard what the 
 children had seen, she at once bade them follow her to 
 the woodshed, where she gave each a long weapon, tak- 
 ing one herself, and ordering her boy to do the same, 
 and follow her quickly as possible. She took no time 
 to calculate the ' probabilities of victory or defeat ; if 
 she had done so, the combat probably would never have 
 taken place. When the boy began to show some re- 
 luctance, she told him she would give the first blow, 
 and, at the first sign of cowardice on his part, she 
 would put the blows upon him. 
 
 They soon reached the place, and saw the monster 
 who was there, seemingly awaiting them. True to her 
 word, she commenced giving the most vigorous blows ; 
 and the boy, seeing it was do or die, followed her ex- 
 ample. The monster, in his writhings, seemed to have 
 become entangled in the tall weeds, and not until they 
 were all nearly exhausted could they see any sign of 
 victory. The grass and cat-tails were beaten to the 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 5 I 
 
 ground a long distance around before it became evident 
 they had conquered him. At this moment, the men, 
 who were in a distant field, saw that the family were in 
 some trouble, and, hastening up to see what was to be 
 done, said it was a miracle they were not all killed. 
 When the dead enemy was dragged out of the swamp, 
 and stretched upon the grass, they said no such horri- 
 ble serpent was ever seen in this country before. The 
 news of this battle and victory brought a great many 
 persons to see the monster, some living even thirty 
 miles away. 
 
 The thought presses upon my mind that I am the 
 only person living who can relate anything of this 
 remarkable woman, Great -grandmother Whitney ; and 
 my heart is filled with regret, that I didn't learn more 
 about her when I had the opportunity. My Grand- 
 mother Bellows never lost an occasion when she could 
 tell of some remarkable quality her mother possessed, 
 but I was too young to take other interest than that 
 of being entertained. I remember well her description 
 of the struggle she had in taking care of this large 
 estate in the absence of her husband, — for he was 
 gone a long time on business and in military service, — 
 and how she managed to gain something, as she would 
 say, "for a wet day," beside supporting the family; 
 also the high respect in which she was held in her 
 native town, where she had always lived; her perfect 
 system and order in housekeeping, and also taking upon 
 herself the education of her two little girls. Grand- 
 mother would say, all they knew of books her mother 
 taught them, and then added, " We were quite as good 
 scholars, if not a little better, than children averaged in 
 those days." The sick, and those in need, were espe- 
 
52 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 cial objects of her care; and Lois was often sent, 
 sometimes against her own inclinations, to aid in some 
 way the family where a mother or child was ill. Their 
 home was some distance from the village, and the 
 family walked a mile to church. I should think she 
 considered herself responsible for the morals of all 
 that little community in this rural district, as my grand- 
 mother said she would frequently rap on some door, as 
 she passed along, and inquire if the family were ready 
 to accompany her. 
 
 When Grandfather Whitney returned to his family, 
 after a long campaign of nearly four years, he came 
 with broken health, resulting from the many hardships 
 he endured; and they found the "wet day" she had 
 been preparing for so long ; and what she had laid up 
 proved, grandmother would say, to be a great bless- 
 ing to them, for it took all their time and strength to 
 minister to his varying wants, the few months he lin- 
 gered with them, when he died, and was buried in the 
 churchyard with his kindred, in Littleton. 
 
 Grandmother Whitney lived a widow many years on 
 the old homestead, taking care of herself and daughters, 
 as she had learned to do so well. She made the addi- 
 tion to her family, in the way of help, of a slave girl ; 
 her name was Lucy. It was not against the laws of 
 the State, at this period, to employ slave help ; but 
 there were only a few families comparatively who 
 availed themselves of this privilege. 
 
 This girl, Lucy, proved to be a faithful creature, 
 and became strongly attached to her mistress. Grand- 
 mother found great comfort in her when her two 
 daughters were married, and had homes of their own, 
 leaving their mother in the faithful care of old Lucy. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 53 
 
 It may be well here to follow the eldest of these 
 daughters, as our lives are so closely connected with 
 hers. 
 
 How my Grandfather Bellows became acquainted 
 with, or where he first saw this daughter of Littleton, 
 I cannot say. His own life had been passed in Lunen- 
 burg ; and, as he was left at an early age with the in- 
 heritance of the paternal estate, it is reasonable to sup- 
 pose he looked about early for a companion to keep 
 him company in this old home, which must have been 
 very lonely after the family had all come here to con- 
 vert this wilderness into a Walpole. As Lunenburg is 
 not very far from Littleton, as we now calculate dis- 
 tances, — though probably considered quite a journey on 
 horseback at that period, — we can suppose that the 
 personal charms of this country lass, with many other 
 qualities that would serve to recommend her to a sen- 
 sible young man, might in some way have found their 
 way to my grandfather's ear ; and it has certainly been 
 made evident that his suit to this fair dame was not 
 rejected. 
 
 It is to be regretted I cannot give any particulars 
 of the wedding that must have taken place, but I am 
 inclined to think it was a very quiet one, as she could 
 never tolerate what would seem like ostentation or dis- 
 play, on any occasion. I also cannot give any assur- 
 ance to their posterity, that our grandfather did not 
 bring her home on a pillion, but I have more reason to 
 believe she came on her own horse ; as I have heard 
 her say more than once her mother didn't let her 
 daughters go from their home empty-handed. 
 
 We may readily suppose this dear old home was 
 made very desolate, when no one was left there but 
 
54 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 the mother with her faithful slave-woman, Lucy, and 
 we cannot be surprised that she improved an opportu- 
 nity to brighten up her lonely life by accepting old 
 Deacon Foster's offer, " to go the rest of the way with 
 her to heaven." I can recall many anecdotes I have 
 heard related of this old gentleman, — one in particular 
 which grandmother used to tell us. He rode up to 
 the door one morning, seemingly in haste, and told 
 her mother that their neighbor, Mrs. Carter, was in 
 trouble, and in need of help ; that she had been vio- 
 lently taken with " a serious and painful breaking out 
 about her mouth." He didn't wait to be questioned, 
 knowing that she would go at once to her neighbor, 
 to see if any assistance could be rendered. When 
 she reached the house, she saw the woman about as 
 usual, and discovered nothing about her face unusual ; 
 she then told her of the message Deacon Foster left. 
 "Well," was the response, "I understand pretty well 
 what he meant ; for, when he came this morning, I 
 was giving Ben Carter a piece of my mind for his 
 carelessness, and the good Deacon Foster thought my 
 temper made my speech a little unscriptural." 
 
 I think this good old deacon, who seemed to have 
 no family of his own, entertained a strong partiality 
 for this Grandmother Whitney during her long widow- 
 hood, as I now recall how many times Grandmother 
 Bellows would speak of him as their friend, and her 
 mother finally found him a comforting and pleasant 
 companion during the rest of her walk in life. 
 
 After a few years, it was thought best they should 
 pass the rest of their days in Lunenburg, where they 
 were cordially welcomed to the home of their daughter 
 and son-in-law. I have reason to suppose the property 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 55 
 
 they carried with them to Lunenburg was more than 
 sufficient for their continued support. 
 
 Grandmother Whitney died not many years after 
 their removal from Littleton. My mother, who was 
 named Sarah Farr for her grandmother, remembered 
 as a child waiting upon her when in bed, and the 
 loving words she would bestow upon her grandchild, 
 when receiving at her hand the cup of drink and 
 other things prepared for her comfort. 
 
 Her grave was made in Lunenburg, beside three 
 little graves, where her daughters — the three first chil- 
 dren — were laid. Deacon Foster, who came to Wal- 
 pole with the family, sleeps with our kindi-ed in the old 
 family burying-ground. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 When hearing my Grandmother Bellows describe 
 the home of her childhood, in Littleton, — the large 
 orchard back of the house that filled the world with its 
 fragrance ; their many beehives filled with honey, add- 
 ing not a little to this sweetness ; the garden, where 
 a patch was always reserved for herself and sister to 
 plant their hollyhocks, pinks, and caraway ; their play- 
 house made in the old spinning-room, where the music 
 of the wheels was possibly quite as charming as Patti's 
 strains could be to some ears, — my young imagination 
 would paint for me a rare picture of loveliness, and 
 I would resolve to see, sometime, this, to me, incom- 
 parable place. Many years had elapsed, when the long 
 waited-for time came at last. It was on a bright and 
 lovely summer's morning, nearly, or quite, fifty years 
 ago, I took my mother and set out for Littleton, about 
 fifteen miles distant from where we then were. As 
 we approached the town, I began to scrutinize every 
 house, as I drove slowly along, but could see nothing 
 that looked familiar, — certainly nothing of that dear 
 old home and its surroundings that in my girlhood I 
 had painted so minutely ; but, still going on, we reached 
 a respectable-looking farm-house, where I drove up 
 to the door, and inquired if they knew any one living 
 in town by the name of Whitney. They replied in 
 the negative, but said the name was familiar, as they 
 had often seen it on some old tombstones in the 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 57 
 
 churchyard, about half a mile distant. As they saw 
 we were strangers, they kindly offered to show us in 
 what part of the ground we could find the stones. 
 As we followed on, I began to awaken from this long 
 dream of the past, seeing how futile were the hopes 
 of that bright morning, as we started on our voyage of 
 discovery. Our guide soon brought us to the sacred 
 spot, where a whole family by that name were sleep- 
 ing, and our great-grandfather was apparently the first 
 one of the family laid there. I never saw my mother 
 so deeply moved, as we silently stood by that sacred 
 mound. Ours were perhaps the first kindred feet that 
 had wandered to this lonely spot for more than a cen- 
 tury. The old moss-covered stones were sunken so far 
 below the surface as to leave no part of the inscription 
 visible, excepting the name and date; but "forgotten " 
 was too legibly written upon all around not to feel 
 the full import of that word. After contemplating this 
 forlorn and dreary place sufficiently .long to make an 
 indelible impression, we slowly turned away, bidding 
 adieu forever to that narrow strip of earth, hallowed 
 by the dust of one so near of kin to us, and whose life 
 had been so true and strong. Thus ended my lifelong 
 dream of a visit to this ancestral resting-place, fully 
 impressing me with the truth of the old adage, that 
 time is the besom of destruction ; for I found no trace 
 of anything I sought, — not even the causeway, made 
 memorable by the great battle of — not Bunker Hill — 
 but the big snake. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 During the few last years of our grandparents' resi- 
 dence in Lunenburg, there was much in public as well 
 as in private life to make it an eventful period. The 
 struggle had commenced for our independence, and 
 grandfather received from the governor his commission 
 as colonel, which took him from home much of the 
 time, leaving a heavy burden of care upon grand- 
 mother. He was detailed to furnish recruits for the 
 Massachusetts regiments, and also furnish supplies for 
 the soldiers from this State. It was on one of these 
 campaigns that grandmother was waited upon by a 
 party of British officers. It was midwinter, and a 
 severely cold time. They coolly informed her they 
 had come into the country in quest of comfortable 
 lodgings, until their army should again commence op- 
 erations in the spring. It was about this time that 
 orders were received from the mother country that 
 their soldiers should billet themselves upon the inhab- 
 itants, here, and make themselves comfortable at their 
 expense. We can well imagine how the loyal women 
 would receive such guests ; and grandmother found 
 herself equal to the occasion. She told them she 
 didn't take boarders, whether friends or foes ; and her 
 house, large as it was, was certainly not large enough 
 to entertain gentlemen of their cloth ! At this, one 
 of their number, who took it upon himself to do the 
 business, said they were obeying the king's orders, 
 and, as she was still considered one of his subjects, 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 59 
 
 any opposition would be useless. They then politely 
 informed her they should return at three o'clock, to 
 dine with her. As the family had their second meal 
 at twelve, she had no idea of submitting to this incon- 
 venience, with her great family to care for ; and she 
 made her plan accordingly. At the appointed time, 
 she placed on the table a dish of rather indifferent 
 cold meat, a plate of brown bread, some pickles, and 
 a piece of cheese for desert ; she then retired to her 
 sitting-room, awaiting results, but careful to leave the 
 door which opened into the dining-room partially open, 
 so that she could hear the opinions they would prob- 
 ably give of their new boarding-place. They were 
 punctual to the time ; and, when the girl showed the 
 way to the dining-room, a volley of oaths soon greeted 
 her ears, and in a moment more the spokesman of 
 the party presented himself at the door, and, in tones 
 of suppressed rage, inquired if she considered what 
 was on the table a dinner fit for gentlemen and offi- 
 cers ! Grandmother, not in the least daunted, calmly 
 rose from her chair, confronting him, and replied, if he 
 and his friends were not satisfied, they certainly had 
 her permission to go where they could find better ac- 
 commodations. He stood for a moment, looking her 
 over, apparently surprised at her courage, and then 
 turned away, saying he should return in the evening 
 for lodging. 
 
 When she saw she could not easily starve them out, 
 she decided that she would see what effect freezing 
 would have. There was a large chamber on the north 
 side of the house, with a very small, deep fireplace, in 
 which a fire had seldom or never been made, — for it 
 was wholly inadequate to warm the room at any time, 
 and especially at such a time as this. In the early 
 
6o PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 part of the evening, she had a moderate fire kindled 
 there, and told the girl, when the officers came, to 
 show them to this apartment. It was after the time 
 when the family usually retired that they returned, 
 and, on going into this cold room, they were seemingly, 
 judging from their language, reminded of a warmer 
 place ; telling the girl to show them where the fuel 
 was kept. As they were repeatedly heard carrying up 
 wood, grandmother feared some mischief, and did not 
 retire until towards morning, when she called up one 
 of the men to keep watch. It was hardly light when 
 he aroused her, saying he was sure he could smell 
 smoke ; and, bursting into the chamber where these 
 men were, it was filled with smoke almost to suffoca- 
 tion, and they were all in a dead, drunken sleep. The 
 household were soon awakened ; and the men, after 
 dragging these stupefied creatures out of their beds, 
 commenced tearing up the floor, where they found 
 the large beams under the hearth charred to a coal ; 
 and, when the air was admitted, it burst into a blaze, 
 but was soon extinguished. Grandmother said they 
 had hardly recovered from the excitement this had 
 occasioned, before grandfather, to her great joy, most 
 unexpectedly returned home, after several weeks' ab- 
 sence. When he was informed of the outrage, he set 
 out quickly in pursuit of these villains ; and, finding 
 them where he expected, — at the tavern, — (as houses 
 for entertainment were then called), he told them if 
 they were not out of town within two hours, he would 
 march them out at the point of the bayonet ; and, as 
 they saw he was in command of a military camp where 
 he had soldiers in training ready to be summoned for 
 service, they thought best to hasten their departure. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It was seventy or seventy-five years ago, that my 
 Uncle Abel Bellows used to enliven his household by 
 gathering five or six of his young nephews and nieces 
 under his roof, during the winter school-term. His 
 residence was such a convenient distance from the 
 old brick school-house that the winter storms afforded 
 us no excuse for non-attendance at school, and the 
 thought of escaping our uncle's vigilance in that re- 
 spect could not be entertained for a moment. Our 
 grandmother dispensed the honors of this bachelor 
 home. A colored woman and man, Becky and Cyrus, 
 were the servants ; and they would hail with great 
 delight the coming of those noisy boys and girls. 
 "Jes' seems like cummin' to life agin, arter bein' 
 dead," they would say. But this sudden awakening 
 was not wholly confined to the kitchen ; every part 
 of the house seemed reanimated with just such life 
 as only boys and girls can put into it. I can now 
 vividly recall the merry group that gathered in the 
 large kitchen when games were to be the evening 
 entertainment ; but when our grandmother proposed 
 stories, and she had a marvellous treasury of that kind 
 to draw from, how eagerly we sought our places in the 
 sitting-room around the low-cushioned chair, which was 
 placed in the warmest corner, the room all aglow with 
 the bright, blazing fire. 
 
62 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 "There is no need to light the candles," she would 
 say ; and we were very glad to avoid the interruption 
 occasioned by snuffing them, especially when so un- 
 fortunate as to snufE them out. 
 
 There was sometimes a little struggle to obtain the 
 nearest place, but that was soon accorded to Harry, 
 our youngest cousin, whom I have named before, and 
 a favorite with all. One glance at that partially use- 
 less little hand, which he liked to nestle in grand- 
 mother's lap, when sitting beside her, would awaken 
 our sympathies, and win for him any privilege ; but 
 his sweet nature would not allow him to take undue 
 advantage of kindness or indulgence. 
 
 There were two Indian stories we were never tired 
 of hearing. One, in particular, was a favorite with 
 Harry, for the reason that intended wrong was justly 
 punished ; thus showing, in his boyhood, the strong 
 sense of right and justice that qualified him so well 
 for the position he held in after years, — as Chief Jus- 
 tice of the State of New Hampshire. 
 
 Looking down upon us, as we had seated ourselves 
 upon the carpet each side of her, she would commence 
 thus : " It was when Burgoyne came sweeping down 
 from Canada, with his horde of Hessians and Indians, 
 threatening death and destruction to all that opposed 
 him, that Gen. Gates issued an order for more troops 
 to help him defend the fort at Ticonderoga ; which 
 stood directly in the wake of this advancing army. 
 Your grandfather, with all possible haste, started with 
 the men under his command to join his brother. Gen. 
 Bellows, somewhere, who was already on his way ; and 
 their timely aid was highly complimented afterward 
 in a letter from Gen. Gates. They had no pitched 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 63 
 
 battle there, but some pretty lively skirmishes with the 
 Indians, taking a number prisoners ; and your grand- 
 father brought three young squaws home to Lunen- 
 burg, and one old Indian, who followed them at a 
 distance all the way. Your grandfather would not 
 allow the soldiers to ill-treat this Indian, as they were 
 inclined to do. He said, 'White brother good.' " Per- 
 haps this kindness awoke a kindred spark in the breast 
 of this ignorant child of the forest. He certainly 
 showed his attachment by lingering about grandfather's 
 dwelling, where he was fed and cared for a long time. 
 
 A suitable place was provided for the young squaws ; 
 they were to be kept as hostages, or to be exchanged 
 for our own people, who were in captivity. They were 
 permitted to go out about the street when they chose ; 
 they always showed themselves in full feather, looking 
 quite picturesque in their Indian costume. 
 
 Lunenburg was made quite lively at this time by 
 the number of young officers and soldiers that were 
 waiting there to be sent where most needed. Some 
 of these officers had not yet learned to wear their new 
 uniform with becoming dignity, and grossly compro- 
 mised themselves when riding through the town, one 
 cold, blustering morning. Seeing at quite a distance 
 these untutored children, decked in full Indian regalia, 
 one of the trio turned to his companions, saying, "Now, 
 look out for some fun !" and dashed on at a breakneck 
 speed. On reaching the group, he suddenly drew rein, 
 inquiring if one of them would like a ride ; she quickly 
 assented, and he pointed to something near, from which 
 she could mount behind him, intending to start his 
 horse when she gave the leap, and let her fall to the 
 ground. But he had sadly miscalculated Indian agility. 
 
64 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 She vaulted into the air, coming down astride upon 
 the officer's nag so suddenly that the affrighted creat- 
 ure started off with such speed that no power of rein 
 could check him. The maiden, however, had secured 
 her safety by winding her arms tightly around her 
 escort; and, as they flew over the road, the wind 
 lifted her long black hair from her shoulders, and kept 
 it streaming out straight behind her, lending no small 
 addition to the novelty of the scene. His brother offi- 
 cers, now understanding the game, started in hot pur- 
 suit, and, as they dashed along the street, shouted, 
 "An elopement! an elopement!" bringing the inhabi- 
 tants to the doors and windows, which were thrown wide 
 open ; and pedestrians stood in mute astonishment, 
 gazing after the retreating figures. When the horse 
 had reached his stable, on which he was madly bent, 
 he stopped voluntarily at the Public House, where, as 
 usual, was a crowd of many loungers ; soldiers, officers, 
 and idlers were standing and sitting around, discuss- 
 ing the times, and the latest arrivals. Their talk was 
 suddenly arrested, however, by the startling appear- 
 ance of this couple, followed closely by the other two 
 officers, who still shouted, "An elopement ! an elope- 
 ment ! " and for a moment they did not comprehend 
 the situation ; but when the young squaw triumphantly 
 leaped to the ground with Indian grace, saying, "Tanky, 
 sir ; tanky, sir ; had mighty good ride, but did make 
 my hair whirl ' gin ! " cheer upon cheer went up, to the 
 great mortification of the gaily decked young officer. 
 
 Report said it was long after Independence was 
 achieved when this ^officer heard the last of his attempt 
 to run away with a young squaw. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Nothing makes more rapid progress than memory 
 on the march; usually leaving many details behind, 
 making it often necessary to retrace our steps to pick 
 up some incident that is better found in its wrong place 
 than not found at all. 
 
 On waking in the morning, a new thought or scene 
 will sometimes present itself for contemplation. This 
 morning, to my great surprise, grandmother's wedding 
 dress flashed upon me in all its regal beauty. Where 
 could it have been concealed all this time, never once 
 coming to the light, when I have so recently had the 
 key in my hand to unlock this wonderful hiding place .'' 
 Well, here it is, just as it was spread out before my 
 admiring eyes one day, years and years ago, when she 
 called me to help her arrange a large trunk full of 
 ancient deposits. She took this out first, and began 
 carefully to remove the many wrappings in which it 
 had been laid away, and then spread out upon the 
 bed a light sky blue damask silk, of such remarkable 
 texture that the skirt would almost stand alone. The 
 bodice was made with a deep point behind, also 
 pointed in front. The sleeves were fitted tight to the 
 arm, reaching only to the elbow ; a deep lace fell over 
 the arm. The over-skirt was immensely wide. The 
 silk looked the same on both sides. The flowers were 
 roses, some in full blossom grouped with buds and 
 leaves. I think she enjoyed my enthusiasm over this 
 
66 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 dress, as she talked a good deal about it, saying it took 
 some thirty yards of that rich material to make it ; also, 
 that it was the only silk dress she ever had ; that there 
 were only a few people at that period who could afford 
 to purchase more than one dress of such costly ma- 
 terial. And when I asked her how she could have 
 kept it looking so perfectly fresh and new, she said she 
 only wore it on great occasions, and had worn it even 
 to church but a few times, and then at grandfather's 
 request ; but she took it off as soon as she returned, 
 for she had too many children who would want to put 
 their hands onto it. 
 
 She then took out a bombazine dress. This was pur- 
 chased for her, she said, when she was sixteen years 
 old, — at the time of her father's death. This material 
 was worn only for mourning, and she had kept this all 
 her long life with its sacred associations, having worn 
 it for her father and mother, and then for the three 
 little ones she left sleeping in Lunenburg. 
 
 Dear old grandmother ! How I like to recall these 
 incidents that seemed of so little importance at the 
 time, but now having gained all that interest that time 
 alone can give to all earthly things. I can see, at this 
 moment, that fair, placid face, encircled in the double 
 border on her cap, which was always so beautifully 
 crimped, and her cap fastened on with a broad black 
 ribbon around her head. How sweet, too, is the mem- 
 ory of that last visit I made to her the summer before 
 she left this earthly abode for the home that had been 
 so long awaiting her ! How like a pleased child she 
 would accompany me on my visits to our friends, stay- 
 ing with some of them two or three days ! A little 
 scene at Aunt Susan Robeson's — my mother's eldest 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 67 
 
 sister — seems worth relating, as I recall it so vividly. 
 We were to go in the morning, and the distance was so 
 short, that a little walk, she thought, would be more 
 pleasant than a ride ; so we set out after breakfast, and 
 as we went slowly along, we met two or three friends 
 who greeted us with much surprise, to see her walking ! 
 She replied, " I like to walk, when I have the right 
 company." I didn't let them detain her, knowing that 
 elderly people could better keep going than remain 
 standing. Aunt Susan came down to the gate to meet 
 us, and now I hear her saying, " My heart, mother ! 
 this beats all ! " The old tone is in my ear, and I 
 can distinctly see the look of pleasure that lighted up 
 her face, which any one, having seen once, cannot 
 easily forget. She was soon seated in the easiest 
 chair, quietly taking out her knitting, which always 
 seemed to rest her after any extra exertion. A few 
 friends dropped in during the day, to congratulate 
 grandmother upon her wonderful activity, at such an 
 advanced age, she being then nearly ninety-one. As 
 the day was closing, Aunt Susan said to me, " Your 
 grandmother looks weary, and we will go up-stairs 
 and sit in my chamber, this evening. The room 
 opening out of it is prepared for you, and she may 
 be induced to retire earlier, if we sit there for com- 
 pany. We had only sat a few minutes, when she 
 rose, saying she was a little tired, and would go 
 to her rest, but would like to have us sit by the 
 window which was near the door, so she could hear 
 our conversation. Hardly five minutes had elapsed 
 before we noticed a strange sound, when Aunt Susan, 
 going hastily to the bed, saw it was grandmother's 
 breathing; and for a moment she thought something 
 
68 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 serious had happened, as we had no idea she could 
 have had time to go to sleep ; but, when I touched her, 
 she opened her eyes, saying, "I am so sleepy," and 
 sunk again into that sweet baby-like sleep that mothers 
 love so well to sit and watch. We both stood over 
 her a few minutes, seemingly occupied with the same 
 thought. How beautiful is this rest, and how lovely 
 this second childhood ! She had dropped into bed like 
 a tired little one, and was asleep the moment her head 
 touched the pillow. 
 
 Having finished our visit to Aunt Susan, we were 
 to go from there to Aunt Louisa Knapp's, my mother's 
 youngest sister. This name is another key that un- 
 locks memories of nearly a lifetime, and this visit to 
 her with grandmother has ever found a place with my 
 most vivid and cherished recollections. It is pleasant 
 to recall the many little things that were done with 
 reference to her comfort : the food she could most 
 relish without harming her ; the comfortable cot bed, 
 brought in and placed beside the one I occupied, as she 
 said, to use her own words, she felt "more at home, 
 when she had company." And how we persuaded her 
 to take a nap after dinner, as she was at first unwilling, 
 saying, she " couldn't spare the time." Our dear Uncle 
 Knapp said, "It seemed so like a child, unwilling to 
 leave its play." After this refreshing rest, she would 
 join the group at the front door, in the wide, long hall 
 that led through the house. This was a favorite place 
 where the family and friends often gathered in a hot 
 summer afternoon. The view from this door was more 
 charming than I can describe ! Here I have seen my 
 uncle sit alone for hours, silently contemplating the 
 grandeur and beauty so widely spread out before him ! 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 69 
 
 As I now look through the mist of more than half a 
 century, I can distinctly recall each figure as we sat 
 there on this last afternoon of our visit, — my aunt in 
 her favorite costume, on a hot day, a white dimity 
 wrapper and black silk skirt ; the wrapper fastened so 
 snug and trim about her waist with broad strings, tied 
 in a bow at the front, and then her dainty cap, which 
 was always so becoming. Happening to make some 
 allusion to her personal appearance, my uncle quickly 
 replied, " Why, my dear, how can you ever look other- 
 wise than lovely to me ! " Perhaps it may not be 
 thought in good taste to repeat that here, but I take 
 a different view of it. Another member of this house- 
 hold, our cousin, Susan Knapp, sits here in this family 
 circle. Who that has ever seen and known her can 
 forget the expression of that face, beaming so full of 
 disinterested kindness to every living creature } Her 
 quaint remarks, this afternoon, about her work were, 
 as usual, very amusing. She was transferring some old 
 embroidery upon a new piece of muslin, making, as she 
 said, a pretty collar for aunt. But the especial charm, 
 this afternoon, was our uncle's conversation, which 
 was always remarkable for its perfect diction. It was 
 delightful to hear him relate an anecdote. No one, 
 I ever heard, could do it so well. On this afternoon, 
 he sought opportunities to say something that would 
 call out a quick repartee from aunt, for which she was 
 always remarkable, and he seemed always to enjoy so 
 much. I think this was more particularly intended for 
 grandmother's benefit, as he would frequently turn to 
 her, saying, " You see, mother, what a debt the world 
 owes you for giving to it such a paragon of wit," and, 
 with the most humorous expression on his face, would 
 
70 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 say, " I was about to add, beauty ! " I must say, here, 
 that he always found her quite equal to the occasion, 
 and no such railery ever went unrequited. 
 
 Well, this delightful visit was fast coming to an end ; 
 I was to leave, in the morning, for my far-away home. 
 Susan, after tea, gathered one of her lovely bouquets, 
 to take in the morning ; and no one ever came or went 
 away without one of these ; it was her sweet benediction. 
 
 Dear old grandmother ! Her eyes were open much 
 earlier than usual that morning ; she said she wished to 
 read to me a chapter in the Bible without her specta- 
 cles, as it would make a more lasting impression upon 
 my mind ; so we sat down, and she read distinctly, 
 without hesitation, one of David's psalms. 
 
 After breakfast, she returned with me to our cham- 
 ber, helping me pick up the few things I had to take 
 away ; then going with me to the head of the stairs, 
 she said, "I think I will not go down again, but will 
 take my leave of you here." I can now feel the last 
 loving clasp of her hand, as she then and there bade 
 me farewell forever. The next March she went to the 
 home so long in waiting for her. 
 
 This visit was made in the summer of 1833, more 
 than half a century ago. Her death occurred in March, 
 1834. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 I MUST now return to Lunenburg ; having wandered 
 away from the old ancestral home, leaving much be- 
 hind that may be of interest to those who read these 
 pages. 
 
 The story of our grandfather's misfortunes there has 
 been told in many ways, but none to the letter, as our 
 grandmother's account of the unhappy circumstances 
 that led to his breaking down in health and mind. 
 
 In some of the iirst years of their married life, 
 before his boys were old enough to assist him, he 
 took charge of a lad, thirteen or fourteen years of age, 
 whose parents had died, leaving him a small amount of 
 property, which grandfather was asked to look after ; 
 also to take the boy until he was of age, giving him 
 sufficient employment to pay for his support without 
 infringing upon this little property, which, if saved, 
 would help give him a start in life. 
 
 This boy was uncommonly faithful, and, as he grew 
 older, he developed a talent for business quite beyond 
 his years. This boy's name was Fowler. Grandfather 
 came to feel that he was so much a part of his family, 
 he did not hesitate to trust him in any department of 
 his business, wherever he was most needed. 
 
 When the lad was twenty-one, he expressed a desire 
 to engage in the mercantile business, and the property 
 left him, which had been well taken care of, was put 
 into his possession, with an addition to it by way of 
 
72 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 compensation for his faithful services. He was also 
 allowed, to a limited extent, to use grandfather's name 
 when purchasing goods in Boston, and for a few years 
 he proved a successful merchant. When the Revolu- 
 tionary war commenced, he only saw a wider field for 
 his speculations, and he entered still more deeply into 
 his favorite business. It was on one of grandfather's 
 long absences from home, in answer to Gov. Hancock's 
 call for his services, that this young man made heavy 
 purchases to meet an army contract, and used grand- 
 father's name for a large amount, depending upon his 
 bank deposits for safety, and supposing no harm could 
 grow out of this until Col. Bellows should reach home, 
 when it could be made all right ; but before my grand- 
 father's foot pressed again his native soil, he was a 
 ruined man, and all of his large possessions were swept 
 away. The tidings met him on the road that the Con- 
 tinental bank was not worth a straw, — not a dollar in it 
 worth more than so much waste paper. 
 
 It can easily be imagined how much distress this oc- 
 casioned. I well remember how my grandmother, in 
 telling this story, would always say, "There was no 
 intentional fraud on the part of this young man, but an 
 unlocked for calamity had fallen upon him as well as 
 ourselves." 
 
 It can easily be conceived what a shock this news 
 must have given our grandfather, then far away from 
 home. He hastened to his wife and children, then 
 ten in number, nearly stunned and prostrated by the 
 blow. I have thought how inexpressibly comforting it 
 must have been to know he was coming home to one, 
 who, by her wonderful fortitude and equanimity, would 
 always sooth, rather than aggravate, a great trouble ; 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 73 
 
 for she was never given to complaining under whatever 
 circumstances she might be placed. 
 
 As soon as possible after his return, he arranged for 
 all those in his employ, also those with whom he had 
 personal dealings, to come on a certain day, that he 
 might cancel all accounts with them, determined that 
 no poor man should lose a farthing by him. This day 
 made a great draft upon his already nervous condition 
 of mind and body, and he requested grandmother to 
 prepare him something before retiring for the night. 
 
 It was soon after midnight when she was awakened 
 by grandfather, calling to her in anxious tones. She 
 quickly aroused some of the family, and sent for their 
 physician. She thought he had been violently taken 
 with fever, or some kind of illness ; she thought of 
 brain fever, in consequence of his great fatigue and 
 exciting work on that day. The doctor, who remained 
 with her, looked grave and thoughtful. When the 
 morning that followed that long to be remembered 
 night dawned, knd the doctor was preparing to leave, 
 grandmother besought him to tell her the worst, as he 
 seemed unwilling to express any opinion. And as she 
 insisted, he said, " Mrs. Bellows, you compel me to tell 
 you that I fear your husband is hopelessly insane." 
 Alas ! how terribly true was that prediction ! He never 
 saw a completely sane moment afterward. He was, at 
 this time, forty-three or four years of age. We will 
 pause here for a moment, and, if possible, realize the 
 condition of our grandmother. This was a supreme 
 moment in her life. What will she do .' She is fully 
 assured of their pecuniary ruin, — from wealth reduced 
 to poverty in a day. But this is a secondary considera- 
 tion, — of small importance to her at this moment. 
 
^4 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 The greater and more terrible thought was the condi- 
 tion of her husband. When she fully realized her situ- 
 ation, she felt that all this was crushing her ; but the 
 thought of her ten children came to her rescue, and 
 she said with that thought came strength ; and, as she 
 was leaving the room, she met her father-in-law, 
 Deacon Foster, who said, in a tone of sympathy she 
 could never forget, "Lois, my daughter, remember 
 there is an Almighty arm to lean upon, an Almighty 
 hand to guide you; take a fast hold of it, my poor 
 child ! " 
 
 This dear old gentleman, for many years a member 
 of the family, had reached that period when the infirm- 
 ity of years was bearing heavily upon him, and he could 
 only be considered as one more added to the number 
 of her children. As all these things were passing 
 through her mind, she was more deeply impressed with 
 the necessity of doing something quickly, and that 
 must depend upon her own decision. She had no one 
 to go to for counsel. She called her oldest sons, 
 although in years they were yet boys, and asked which 
 one of them could best take to their uncle's in Walpole 
 the tidings they must carry from this household, so 
 recently full of happiness and prosperity, but now in 
 deep distress ! As we look back upon this misfortune 
 through the long distance of time which has elapsed, 
 how distinctly we can see the different shape it gave 
 to the future of each individual life belonging to that 
 household. 
 
 It was during a cold winter that all this, which I 
 have been relating, happened; and a journey from 
 Lunenburg to Walpole, in the way it was usually ac- 
 complished, was a matter of serious importance. It 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 75 
 
 was soon decided, however, which one of her boys was 
 to speed away on this errand which was to be taken 
 to Uncle General. Col. John was at Exeter, then the 
 seat of government, and he was notified to meet his 
 brother Benjamin at Lunenburg, the day he should be 
 expected to arrive there. I cannot distinctly recollect 
 if it was Saturday evening or Sunday morning that 
 Uncle General received the news ; but I remember 
 it was said that he had started before church com- 
 menced in the afternoon, with a sufficient number of 
 teams to bring all the family and their household 
 effects to Walpole. There were ten children, grand- 
 mother and grandfather, and Deacon Foster. It gives 
 me a feeling of pride, as well as pleasure, to record the 
 fact that this old gentleman, now too helpless to care 
 for himself, and having no claim but that of marriage 
 with her mother at a late period of her life, was as 
 kindly and tenderly cared for as any other member 
 of the family. This was an act in full accord with the 
 noble-hearfed generosity of our race, at that period, in 
 all its branches ; and heaven grant that each one of 
 us may see to it that this feature of our ancestors be 
 preserved through all time by their children. 
 
 When the colonel joined his brother at Lunenburg, 
 their first work was to arrange matters with the credi- 
 tors, who were many of them unscrupulous harpies, 
 who demanded that their dues should be paid in hard 
 cash, since paper money had so depreciated, believing 
 that grandfather had large deposits somewhere. It 
 was fortunate that Col. John was there to deal with 
 these heartless scoundrels, who knew under what cir- 
 cumstances our grandfather was made responsible to 
 them, also how utterly impossible it was to obtain 
 
76 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 specie ; and still they refused to receive anything else 
 in payment. But it took the colonel to bring them to 
 terms ; and the estates were disposed of at forced sales, 
 realizing not half their actual value ; and, when this 
 unfortunate business was cancelled, there was little or 
 nothing left for their family, who had held the first 
 place in society, and also the largest possessions of 
 any of the people in that town, with their wide open 
 doors of hospitality. 
 
 When my grandmother related this story, it was 
 never given continuously, as I have been telling it, 
 but those portions of it that seemed pressing most 
 heavily upon her mind at the moment. As I have 
 put all these incidents together, to-day, each one find- 
 ing its own place, I have thought how reluctantly she 
 seemed to dwell upon any of these scenes, particularly 
 where it was necessary to speak of grandfather's con- 
 dition. It was from other lips than hers that I learned 
 that, like most other insane people, he had come to 
 think his dearest friends were his bitterest 'foes. It is 
 impossible for us to conceive how inexpressibly pain- 
 ful it must have been to hear anything like unkindness 
 from lips that had never before spoken to her except- 
 ing in terms of tenderest love. Whenever she referred 
 to him, it would be to relate something he had done 
 that was quite remarkable as a public man, or in his 
 important military service, or to give some instance 
 of his tenderness and devotion to his family. I have 
 many times heard her say, " Your grandfather, when 
 at home, never allowed me to get up with a single one 
 of our ten children. If they were restless and needed 
 quieting, it was he who would attend to them ; and in 
 the soft, soothing tones of his musical voice, they were 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 77 
 
 quickly lulled again to rest. In all their little ailments, 
 he was a most skilful nurse, always knowing just what 
 to do." It was in these lingering memories of his love 
 and tenderness that she mostly lived, seldom referring 
 to that which was painful. 
 
 As soon as our uncles had made the necessary 
 arrangements, they set out with this family for Wal- 
 pole. The three daughters, who were her youngest 
 children, were nearly babies, — the eldest of them not 
 six years : the youngest son, Thomas, was eight ; Abel, 
 ten ; with five more older boys. Perhaps it may be 
 well to dwell here, for a moment, upon the manner in 
 which this large family were received by their kindred. 
 Such an example of fraternal sympathy and kindness 
 we seldom have an opportunity of presenting, when we 
 consider all the circumstances : the father of this large 
 family in the condition named, and with him Deacon 
 Foster, an old gentleman, requiring as much care as a 
 child, from the infirmity of years; and then ten chil- 
 dren, of various ages from one year to eighteen ; but 
 all hearts were brimming over with sympathy and 
 kindness, and there was an abundance of room in every 
 house, which they were made to feel was in waiting 
 for them. Col. John chose to receive my grandfather 
 with his wife and her three youngest children, into his 
 house. The general invited Deacon Foster to become 
 the chaplain in his family, as Mr. Harding, who had long 
 held that office, had died shortly before. The general 
 also received the three youngest boys, Thomas, Abel, 
 and Levi ; they were the especial care of Aunt Gen- 
 eral, and nothing could exceed the motherly tenderness 
 with which she looked to everything necessary for their 
 comfort. The older boys were placed in other homes of 
 the kindred. 
 
7 8 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 As we now pause to look upon the condition of this 
 family, we can fully realize the truth of the old adage, 
 "There is no telling what a day may bring forth.'' A 
 few short weeks ago, they were enjoying all that a 
 happy and prosperous home could give them ; now, 
 homeless. When anything occurred that led grand- 
 mother's mind back to this painful period, when the 
 members of her family were all scattered here and 
 there, and not a ray of light to illumine the dark future 
 that lay before her, she said that, in her despair, she 
 would inadvertently drop a word in reference to the 
 additional care so many of her family must be, as Col. 
 John then had a large family of his own ; but he would 
 quickly rebuke her, saying, the Lord had filled his 
 house with plenty to overflowing, thus making it in- 
 cumbent upon him, and a privilege to provide, not only 
 for his own household, but for the needs of those who 
 had a natural claim upon him, especially one so near to 
 him and so dear as his brother Joseph ; that he, with 
 the general, would see at the proper time where she 
 could best be situated with all her children together 
 once more ; but that, until that time, he and his wife 
 and children were all made happier by the thought, that 
 his roof was large enough to shelter all. She could not 
 recall a moment when she had cause to doubt the sin- 
 cerity of these expressions of kindness. 
 
 How delightful to find these gems with which to 
 brighten the pages of our family traditions ! How 
 much of bitterness it must have taken from this cup of 
 sorrow, to find such generous sympathy in her hus- 
 band's family ! 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 When the springtime came, true to his promise, 
 Col. John, with the approbation of his brother, Gen. 
 Benjamin, made a proposition to grandmother which 
 she readily accepted ; for she could once more gather 
 about her the scattered children, some of whom had 
 sadly pined for the old home, and the mother's wing, 
 although everything had been done to make them com- 
 fortable and happy ; but they were out of the old fam- 
 ily nest for the first time, and their life turned into a 
 different current, and it was hard to get accustomed to 
 this great change. 
 
 As Col. John had large landed possessions, he pro- 
 posed placing grandmother, with her family of boys, 
 upon a farm which he had selected, called the meadow 
 farm, which lay directly on the bank of the Connecti- 
 cut River, and only about a mile from his own home. 
 There was a pretty and convenient cottage, with 
 barns, and, indeed, all the apparatus that belonged to 
 a nice farm. As he owned the land as far as West- 
 moreland, the boys could have the privilege of cultiva- 
 ting all they desired to. It was, at first, thought best 
 to have grandfather remain with his brother, but, as he 
 had now become so much more quiet, under the magic 
 influence which the colonel seemed to have over him, 
 she could not think of leaving him to the care of 
 others, who could not know as well as she all his ways 
 
8o PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 and wants ; and, even when in his right mind, he was 
 most fastidious in many things. 
 
 Well, in due time, grandmother found herself with 
 her little flock and grandfather in this home, so kindly- 
 furnished to them, and she was to commence a new life. 
 But oh ! how different from the one she was accus- 
 tomed to! But this was no time for comparisons; 
 her work was all before her, and she must get every- 
 thing arranged. How well I remember her saying she 
 could do nothing without first laying a plan. She had 
 much system and order, which was carried into every 
 department of life : and now each one of her sons must 
 know what his own particular duties were, and it was 
 her business to assign them. But Uncle John per- 
 sisted in being dubbed dictator of the potato patch, 
 and he held this office with some distinction ; but one 
 day he unfortunately forgot that there was a higher 
 authority than his own, and he undertook some business 
 that was considered not within his jurisdiction. 
 
 There was a large amount of work that was to be 
 accomplished on one particular day, — the corn and the 
 potatoes had already been waiting for the hoe too long ; 
 each one of the boys had been assigned to their portion 
 of this work, as it was something that all could take 
 part in. I must put in a parenthesis, here, that Uncle 
 Abel, as a boy, always had the reputation of liking 
 gingerbread and stories much better than he did work. 
 Well, he demonstrated the truth of this assertion, on 
 that particular day, by doing nothing at all. His elder 
 brother, the dictator, had long been aware of these 
 shirking propensities, and took upon himself, then and 
 there, to apply the proper remedy, which was nothing 
 less than a regular flogging. This boy, who had never 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 received such retribution before from the hand of any 
 one, could only look upon it as an outrage, and fled 
 swiftly, in much wrath, with this terrible wrong, to his 
 mother. She listened with her usual self-possession to 
 all he had to say. I can now see that look of quiet 
 determination on her face, which her children used to 
 understand so well. She gave no opinion, and made 
 no answer to his tale of woe ; but when all her sons, 
 having completed their day's work, came in, and had 
 seated themselves around the supper table, she said, 
 " Boys, I wish you to wait a few moments ; I have 
 something to say which I expect you all to give atten- 
 tion to. Since the unhappy condition of your father, 
 I have felt that I stood in a double relation to you, not 
 only as your mother, but with the care and authority of 
 your father devolving upon me ; and, so long as you 
 are inmates of my household, I want you to understand 
 that you are to be subject to my authority, no matter if 
 you are fifty years old. And, Jack, I have a special 
 word for you : never again lay your hand in violence 
 upon one of your brothers ; when they need discipline, 
 send them to me ! " 
 
 The incident I have just related came to me many 
 years after it occurred. It was at the time of one of 
 Uncle John's annual visits to his brother Abel, who 
 kept a bachelor's home a number of years before he 
 married, grandmother and myself making a part of the 
 family during this period. Every one expected a time 
 of general festivity during these visits, for Uncle John 
 was always full to overflowing with wit and humor. 
 
 His brother was a victim to dyspepsia for more than 
 thirty years, and Uncle John always declared these visits 
 were what saved Abel's life. The truth of this assertion 
 
82 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 we may never know ; but we do know that he survived 
 many years, attaining to a goodly old age. He was 
 over eighty when he died. 
 
 It was during one of these visits that a little scene 
 took place, one morning, which presents itself so viv- 
 idly at this moment, I must give it a place here. At 
 the time grandmother, with her family of boys, was 
 living at this meadow farm, there was a man in the 
 neighborhood by the name of Johnny Martin. He was 
 noted for his eccentricities and originality. It seemed 
 as if nature had provided him with a magic looking- 
 glass, in which he could take his own comical view of 
 the whole world. He could not see anything as other 
 people saw it. He also had a vocabulary of his own, — 
 many words of his own coining, — which he used, in 
 his quaint way, to describe persons and things, to the 
 great amusement of every one who heard him. This 
 man earned his living by performing day's work for his 
 neighbors ; and, whenever there was extra work, Johnny 
 was sought, and was always most efficient help, and 
 these days were especially considered as the boys' holi- 
 days, for nothing could exceed the mirth and fun that 
 was going on from dawn until dark. 
 
 More than thirty years had now elapsed since 
 Johnny was playing his jokes on these boys. He had 
 become comparatively an old man, while Uncle John, 
 who had for many years been a resident of Boston, 
 had accumulated a large fortune in the mercantile 
 business, and was distinguished for his public spirit 
 and financial ability. As I have already said, it was 
 at the time of one of his visits to his brother that the 
 following incident took place. While in the kitchen, 
 one morning, for some purpose, the back door suddenly 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 83 
 
 opened, and a figure presented itself, but kept stand- 
 ing as if transfixed, looking directly at the dignified 
 gentleman, then, putting itself into the most grotesque 
 attitude, burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. 
 As soon as he could speak, he vociferated, "Jack, do 
 you remember the flail ? " This question brought 
 back, in a flash, the memory of that quaint, original 
 individual he had not seen for more than thirty years. 
 This greeting, so perfectly characteristic, wholly ignor- 
 ing the lapse of time — picking my uncle up just where 
 he saw him and left him so many years ago — struck 
 an answering chord ; and Uncle John, in his merri- 
 ment, roared for a few minutes as loudly as Johnny 
 Martin. This uproar brought grandmother quickly into 
 the room, to learn what had happened ; but, when she 
 questioned her son, he replied, that it must in the 
 future, as it had done in the past, remain an impene- 
 trable mystery. But we came to the conclusion that 
 the story of the flail must have had more of comedy 
 than tragedy in it, as these two individuals seemed to 
 have been the principal actors. It can easily be sup- 
 posed this opportunity was improved to recall many 
 funny things that took place in that long ago. But 
 more particularly I remember how Johnny revived the 
 memory of that discipline Uncle Abel received at the 
 hands of his brother John, telling all the circumstances 
 in his own quaint way, which brought as many tears 
 as were shed on the former occasion, but of a some- 
 what different sort. Uncle John, for the moment, laid 
 aside his dignity, and was a boy once more, lending 
 himself wholly to the occasion. Many years were 
 lived over again in that one hour, and whoever saw 
 Uncle John in his moments of inspiration, and heard 
 
84 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 him relate anecdotes, and describe persons and inci- 
 dents that had taken place in his life, need not be 
 told of the peals of laughter that followed. And I can 
 recollect how eloquently, at this time, he made grand- 
 mother speak to her regiment of boys, when she 
 asserted her authority over them, even after they were 
 fifty years old, if they were under her roof. After 
 reciting her own words, he made the most profound 
 obeisance, and declared he had never since that memo- 
 rable occasion dared to disobey one of her orders. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 It was but a few years that grandmother lived at the 
 farm, but it was necessarily a laborious and anxious 
 period. The most happiness she found there was in 
 the thought that she was keeping her children together, 
 and wisely controlling and directing them, until they 
 were sufficiently matured to choose some more con- 
 genial occupation than farming proved to be to most of 
 them. There was much that occurred in those few 
 years that helped to shape the lives of these children. 
 
 Grandmother's first and greatest trouble in this new 
 home was the change it had wrought in grandfather. 
 Away from the control and the soothing influence of 
 his brother John, that peculiar influence which always 
 seems to result from the recognition of the presence 
 of quiet authority, his malady increased, bringing great 
 additional care and anxiety to the family. It was then 
 that Col. John brought this brother back to his house 
 again, and received him in such a kind and sympathetic 
 manner that his malady seemed at once greatly allayed. 
 He assured him that no harm could come to himself or 
 to his family, and it was his wish that he should stay 
 with him permanently, so that he could give his per- 
 sonal attention to him. " But you must be very quiet 
 here," he said, " as Si and Roswell are at home study- 
 ing for college, and must not be disturbed." And here 
 grandfather remained until the time of the colonel's 
 death, which was quite a number of years afterward. 
 
86 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 The colonel died in 1812, and grandfather's death 
 occurred in 181 5. 
 
 It was a common remark, what a wonderful influence 
 Col. John always had over his brother, who would lis- 
 ten to his persuasions as to no other one ; but he could 
 never be reasoned out of some idiosyncrasies, which he 
 carried to his grave. Before my grandfather's reason 
 was dethroned, he was widely known as a gentleman of 
 most courtly manners, strong intellect, broad humanity, 
 executive ability, and also unusually interesting and 
 pleasing in conversation. This last was due, I pre- 
 sume, in some measure, to the rich, clear, musical, 
 tones of his voice, so full of sweet cadences, such as 
 an individual seldom meets with more than once in 
 a lifetime. How I wish it were possible for me to 
 catch sound once more of the words, oh ! and ah ! 
 spoken with the sweet pathos in which my grandfather 
 could utter them ! 
 
 During the last fifteen or twenty years of his life, a 
 stranger could hold long conversations with my grand- 
 father without a suspicion that he was not all right ; 
 and such opportunities frequently occurred, for Col. 
 John, as well as his brother the general, kept open 
 house, following the example of their father. The 
 colonel was in the way of entertaining many celebrities, 
 who were in the habit of visiting this town at that 
 period. Perhaps some of them were attracted by 
 Col. John's daughters, who were known far and wide 
 as belles in society, brilliant in person and in conver- 
 sation. As I now look through the mist of nearly 
 seventy years, I distinctly recall four of them in their 
 youthful beauty ; and there is no reason to doubt that 
 many admirers might have come to Col. John's with 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 87 
 
 such high hopes as only to make their disappointment 
 more severe. It was well known that Col. John was 
 very proud of his daughters, and he naturally demanded 
 much for them. 
 
 Somewhere in the last years of Uncle Colonel's life, 
 I remember, as a little child, running away from my 
 home, and the great scramble I had to reach his house, 
 which stood on the top of the hill. I was in search of 
 my grandfather, who, on seeing me, came quickly and 
 picked me up in his arms, expressing surprise and 
 great pleasure that I should have run away in order to 
 find him. It must have been in fruit time, for, as I 
 recollect, he took me into the garden, and held me up 
 high, so that I could pick the cherries from the tree for 
 myself, and then carried me home to my mother. I 
 have heard her say many times, and grandmother also, 
 that nothing could exceed his tenderness for little chil- 
 dren ! If he saw them too far away from home, or in 
 any place of danger, no trouble was too great for him 
 to place them in safety. 
 
 His brother, thinking at one time if he could per- 
 suade him to take more exercise it would benefit his 
 health, proposed to work an hour with him every morn- 
 ing in the garden. To this proposal, grandfather qui- 
 etly remarked, " John, have you not learned that my 
 work was completed long ago in this world ? If the 
 Almighty has anything more for me to do, it will be in 
 a country where the devil don't take the proceeds." 
 
 He employed a large portion of each day in reading 
 the scriptures, which were perfectly familiar to him. 
 The Psalms of David he would often repeat, and the 
 Book of Proverbs was entirely at his command. His 
 conversation was usually upon religious themes, with 
 
66 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 those who wished to talk upon such subjects ; and 
 great surprise would sometimes be expressed at the 
 clearness of his reasoning upon such topics, when his 
 mind was so clouded upon others. 
 
 I can well remember his daily visits to my mother. 
 Her quiet, gentle ways were always a balm to his 
 troubled spirit. I could not have been more than 
 three or four years old, for he often took me to school, 
 and would sometimes carry me a part of the way in 
 his arms. 
 
 At the time of his brother's death, he was taken to 
 the home of his oldest son, Mr. Salmon Bellows, who 
 lived about four miles distant. 
 
 The death of this favorite brother was a terrible 
 blow to his tottering mind, and made it still harder for 
 him to bear, from the necessity it brought of changing 
 his residence. My grandfather did not long survive 
 his brother ; I was about sixteen years old when he 
 died. 
 
 It always fills my heart with sadness, when I think 
 of my grandparents, with the cloud upon them, — they 
 whose early life gave promise of so much happiness ; 
 they were happy in each other, — happy and proud of 
 the large number of children that blessed their sunny 
 home, making it, as grandmother would say, so bright 
 and full of life; especially, she would add, when your 
 grandfather and I returned from a few days' visit to 
 our friends, taking perhaps one or two of the youngest 
 children, — the little girls. There was always such a 
 tumult of joy, as only a dozen boys of all ages can 
 make; and my father would say, "Boys, if you devour 
 these children, and your mother also, you will never 
 have an opportunity to be so glad again." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 I THINK I have already stated, that there were ten 
 sons in this family before there were any daughters; 
 and each of the big boys had his own pet kitten, as 
 these girls were called. Sally, the second daughter, 
 always found a stanch friend in her brother John, 
 both in childhood and also in her more mature years. 
 There were so many half-grown boys, that the two or 
 three eldest, who had nearly reached manhood, were 
 distinguished as the big brothers. I have heard my 
 mother, who was that little Sally, often relate instances 
 of his loving-kindness. One, in particular, occurs to me 
 at the present time. 
 
 At that period, it was customary in many country 
 places to have a shoemaker come to the house and 
 make the shoes, especially where there was a large 
 family ; and one pair was generally expected to do duty 
 for a year. Should they happen to give out, it was 
 not uncommon to see the children about home bare- 
 footed, or on their way to school looking and feeling 
 quite as happy, if not a little more so, when wading 
 through the warm sand with their naked toes, or per- 
 fectly free to ford a brook or mud puddle, should such 
 an irresistible attraction lay in their path ; but when 
 the nipping frost was a good deal in advance of the 
 shoemaker, tears would express the general feeling 
 better than smiles. 
 
go PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 It was on one of these occasions, when the shoemaker 
 had been engaged in his rounds to come to the house, 
 and finding many more feet to be shod than he antici- 
 pated, he was obhged to leave before quite finishing 
 his work. There was one more pair to be made, and 
 those were for little Sally ; and he faithfully promised to 
 bring them the next Saturday night. Although it was 
 only three or four days that intervened, to her child- 
 mind, that far-away time seemed to belong somewhere 
 at the end of the world ; but, when at length the day 
 came all right, the shoes did not come, and little Sally 
 went to bed, bitterly sobbing out her disappointment. 
 This man lived nearly opposite them, across the Con- 
 necticut River, at Westminster, Vt., in a little cottage 
 which could be seen from the river bank. 
 
 The next morning, her big brother, wrapping her up 
 warm, carried her in his arms to the bank of the river, 
 where he said he was going to have a talk with that 
 man, and see if he had not left the shoes at the wrong 
 house; so he commenced calling in a loud tone, and 
 went on talking as if he were answered, telling her that, 
 when she woke up, the next morning, she would find 
 her shoes close by her little bed, waiting for her to put 
 them on ; and sure enough, he had managed in some 
 way to get her a pair of boughten shoes, which she 
 found in the morning, just as he had said. It was 
 many years afterward that she learned what an effort 
 her big brother had made to procure those shoes ; for 
 he had walked many miles that Sunday, not reaching 
 home, on his return, till late in the evening. Shoe 
 shops were few and far between in those days, in those 
 frontier settlements. 
 
 Our grandmother used to say she never knew how 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 9 1 
 
 she struggled through these years on the meadow 
 farm ; the weight of her responsibihties seemed, at 
 times, greater than she could bear, though her oldest 
 sons were always ready to aid her in every possible 
 way. A good and faithful girl, too, was found to 
 assist her in the house. At that time, every kind of 
 cloth that was used was spun and woven at home, and 
 the wool and flax from which it was made was raised 
 on the farm, and it took no small quantity of cloth 
 for all the inside and outside garments for a family 
 of fifteen. 
 
 This family was not unlike all others, save for the 
 greater number of them, in variety of temperament ; 
 and it has been a puzzle to me how such a flock were 
 all kept together so long; and it could only have been 
 through the strong influence of that mother. They 
 certainly did not leave the home-nest until sufficiently 
 matured wisely to choose for themselves their different 
 pursuits ; and now we have come to what proved to be 
 a turning point in the lives of some of this family. 
 
 There was an opportunity given for a new landlord 
 in the public house, by the death of Asa Bullard, who 
 had made that place famous for many years. Uncles 
 John and Joseph, though very young men, hardly more 
 than boys, became successors to Mr. Bullard; and, as 
 neither one of them was married, there was no one in 
 their estimation who could do the honors of the estab- 
 lishment so well as their mother. She did not discour- 
 age her sons in this new enterprise, yet it took no 
 small amount of persuasion to obtain her consent to 
 this personal charge in a new and somewhat distasteful 
 field of duty. She soon found herself in the new 
 establishment, leaving her two youngest boys, Abel 
 
g2 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 and Thomas, at the farm, in the care of Lydia, to whom 
 the little boys were attached ; for she then, as ever after- 
 ward, had a peculiar charm for children. 
 
 How long my uncles remained in this new business, 
 I do not know, but probably long enough to secure 
 means for commencing a more congenial employment, 
 as one of my earliest recollections is of my Uncle 
 Joseph's dry goods store, where Uncle Thomas, his 
 youngest brother, was employed as a clerk. From the 
 many anecdotes I have heard, I think he must have been 
 quite an attraction. He was a remarkably fine-looking 
 young man, with a grace of manner that made him 
 quite charming, especially to the ladies. It was then, 
 as it is now, customary for the farmers to come from 
 over the hills that surround Walpole village, every 
 Saturday afternoon, to purchase their weekly supplies, 
 which generally included a jug of whiskey. There 
 were no laws at that time against selling liquors, nor 
 was public sentiment what it now is. 
 
 As the farmers made Saturday afternoon and even- 
 ing a special time for recreating themselves generally, 
 the conviviality would occasionally last until a late 
 hour at night, particularly if Sam Drury and Sam 
 Gilchrist appeared in the street : for that was the 
 signal for a fight, unless Tom Bellows was there to in- 
 terfere. He could prevent it, when no other person 
 could. He held a kind of magic influence over these 
 turbulent spirits, which was due in some measure to his 
 entire fearlessness of them and his own self-control. 
 He would not hesitate a moment to interfere ; and 
 spectators were astonished to see how quickly these 
 men recognized his authority. He was, then, quite a 
 young man, — not much more than twenty ; and his 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCKS 93 
 
 brother, Maj. Jo, as he was always called, when speak- 
 ing of him would say, " I have a host in Tom ; were 
 he not present, my store, on Saturday nights, when 
 these men come in after they have been drinkiny;, would 
 be a pretty fair representation of pandemonium." By 
 a stroke of his ready wit, he would turn a threatened 
 quarrel into a roar of laughter, and he could hasten 
 their departure by saying, "Gentlemen, I am waiting 
 to sing our favorite song," which consisted of quite a 
 number of very comical verses ; but the last verse 
 ended with a chorus, the words of which were, " For 
 I'm going, going, going, going home ! " They were 
 not only expected to join in this with their voices, but 
 to represent the sentiment by their action ; and they 
 knew he would not sing it unless they performed their 
 part to the letter. It meant go. He had a charming 
 voice, and would sing this particular song with great 
 gusto, as I can bear witness, having heard him many 
 times after I became old enough to remember it. It 
 was in this happy way he would get rid of these revel- 
 lers and brawlers, without incurring their ill-will, but 
 rather making himself a favorite ; and this was the 
 secret of his power over them, especially over old Sam 
 Gilchrist, who always held Tom Bellows in the highest 
 veneration. 
 
 This Sam Gilchrist was, in his palmy days, quite a 
 man, belonging to a company who were in among the 
 first settlers in Walpole ; and he had for his wife a 
 near relative of Gen. Allen, whom I remember as a 
 distinguished citizen of this town, and whose resi- 
 dence was the next door to my Uncle Abel Bellows, 
 and of whom I must say a word, as he was a figure in 
 the town. Gen. Allen must have left an indelible 
 
94 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 impression upon every one living within the sound of 
 his voice. He was the most active and bustling man 
 I ever knew. In summer, when we slept with our win- 
 dows open, at my uncle's, we were usually awakened 
 as earl}' as half-past four by the thunder tones in 
 which the old general would be giving orders to the 
 servants in the house as also to the out-of-door men. 
 He had a great farming business to see to, mostly on 
 farms at quite a distance down the river, and break- 
 fast for all hands must be ready at an early hour, and 
 his own carriage ready at a particular moment ; and 
 when we heard the wheels roll out of his door yard, 
 with a sigh of relief we would finish our morning nap. 
 
 Well, to turn again to Sam, as showing what sort 
 of men these times had to deal with. Sam's connec- 
 tion with this family of Gen. Allen was all I ever knew 
 of anything respectable that belonged to him. His 
 long habits of intemperance had made a brute of him, 
 and the many hand to hand fights he and Sam Drury 
 had engaged in had nearly obliterated every human 
 semblance from his face. This face was horrible 
 enough to our childhood ; but still more terrible was 
 old Sam's cry, peculiar to himself ! He would always 
 continue his potations, if allowed to do so, until he 
 reached a state of insensibility ; but, when about half- 
 way there, he would commence pacing up and down 
 the street, roaring, his voice sounding like some wild 
 animal's, and tears streaming down his face like rain. 
 When at this pitch, it was always dangerous for any 
 one to interfere except Tom Bellows, as Sam always 
 persisted in calling him, declaring, at the same time, 
 he was the only friend he had on earth. 
 
 My Uncle Joseph had a few very valuable sheep, 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 95 
 
 which he wished to remove from one pasture to an- 
 other, which was two or three miles distant ; and Uncle 
 Thomas was sent to do it. He was successful in driv- 
 ing the sheep a part of the way, when all at once they 
 scattered in every direction, and for a few minutes there 
 was no visible cause for alarm ; but, on going a little 
 farther, he saw old Sam Gilchrist lying in the middle of 
 the road dead drunk. The sheep, in their fright, had 
 all turned back ; and, as it would be impossible to get 
 them past him, the only thing to do was to get him out 
 of the way. That, however, was no easy task ; every 
 effort to rouse him proved fruitless, and my uncle be- 
 gan naturally to feel very angry, and seeing a suitable 
 long pole in the fence, he drew it out, and made such 
 an application of it to Sam as brought him to his senses 
 sufficiently to enable him to get on to his feet. But he 
 had sense enough to know that Tom, his best earthly 
 friend, had beat him with a bean-pole, as he persisted 
 in calling it ; and, for many weeks after this occurrence, 
 he made a point of coming into the store on the usual 
 day of their high carnival, and telling the story of the 
 terrible outrage his best friend had perpetrated upon 
 him. Uncle Thomas at last told him, if he would never 
 repeat that story, or in any way refer to it again, he 
 would give him a new pair of shoes ; and Sam accepted 
 the terms with a solemn pledge. 
 
 On the next Saturday, he was seen in the street, but, 
 as the afternoon was coming to a close, and Sam had 
 not appeared in the store. Uncle Tom was congratulat- 
 ing himself on thus getting rid of such a scourge, when 
 his attention was attracted toward the door, and the 
 object of his thought was standing there with two or 
 three of his old comrades looking directly at him. His 
 
96 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 first words were, " Oh, Tom ! " Here he broke down. 
 When he had gained a little composure, he cried out, 
 " I haven't forgot, Tom, that air promise, but oh, Tom ! 
 Them was an awful good pair of shoes, but I can't for- 
 get that d bean-polling ! " and here he commenced 
 
 his roaring cry again, which was the terror of all women 
 and children within hearing. 
 
 I have given this lengthy description of one of the 
 miserable creatures of that olden time more particularly 
 to show the tact and wise discretion with which Uncle 
 Thomas would manage better than any other one that 
 portion of the degraded population such as in that day 
 was to be found in every settlement. As I have more 
 to say of Uncle Tom, by and by, I will only add here, 
 that a few years later, when twenty-four or five, he 
 developed quite a military taste, receiving several pro- 
 motions. I am reminded of this by a very perfect like- 
 ness of him lying upon the table before me now. It 
 was painted on ivory, and he is in his military costume, 
 which was so very different from that of the present 
 day that I will describe it. Here is the broad shirt 
 collar, with a corresponding width to the collar of his 
 coat ; a white neckerchief, filled out with what was called 
 a padding, perhaps to make his neck look large. The 
 wide collar with its square ends comes up around his 
 face, revealing only a small portion of the chin and 
 nose. The hair is combed up on the top of his head, 
 and turned over, looking like hay when raked in a 
 windrow ; and a long lock is made to stand up straight 
 from the centre of the forehead, and a profusion of 
 powder, I should think, was indicated. This was 
 painted nearly one hundred years ago, by a celebrated 
 artist in Boston. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 97 
 
 After the lapse of more than seventy years, how 
 vividly I can recall the joyous circle of young cousins, 
 as we sat on the doorstep that warm, summer evening, 
 listening and laughing so merrily at Uncle Tom's funny 
 stories ; and now, of all that happy group, there is noth- 
 ing left but a memory, — save myself to tell the story ! 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 As I have but briefly spoken of Col. John Bellows 
 and his household, when telling the story of my grand- 
 father, I am aware that there are yet many of his de- 
 scendants living, who will perhaps read with interest 
 the further recollections I have brought with me from 
 childhood o£ that distinguished branch of the family. 
 He received what in those days was a princely inheri- 
 tance from his father, consisting of lands and all kinds 
 of stock, as well as money. His land spread itself 
 from the river bank up on to the broad hillsides, reach- 
 ing a number of miles in extent. His residence was 
 located upon an eminence, which overlooked the whole 
 village, commanding also a wide reach westward in Ver- 
 mont, and a splendid view of the river as far as Bellows 
 Falls, named for his father, and four miles off. He 
 was eminently fitted by nature as well as education to 
 preside over such an estate, by his rare business ability, 
 also his dignity and courtly manners, representing the 
 true gentleman that he was. 
 
 My first recollection of him is when I was between 
 three and four years old. He was on his way to the 
 post-office, where he went every morning on horseback ; 
 as he passed our door, he saw I was just leaving on my 
 way to school, which was at the other end of the vil- 
 lage. He called my mother to reach me up to him ; 
 and this delightful ride as far as the schoolhouse I have 
 never forgotten. 
 
o 
 
 °l 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 99 
 
 Col. John's house was the one since owned and occu- 
 pied during the summer months by Rev. Dr. Bellows, 
 with the wonderfully beautiful view from its broad 
 piazzas, overlooking the rich valley of the Connecticut. 
 
 I also distinctly remember the garden which was sit- 
 uated where the lawn is now. I can still see in imagi- 
 nation those gorgeous flower beds, separated from the 
 large vegetable portion of the garden by a long line 
 of hollyhocks in every shade of color ; also the great 
 variety of rosebushes that decorated the edge of the 
 terrace. On each side of the steps, which led from 
 this into the garden, there was a large bunch of crim- 
 son peonies, which were my especial admiration ; and 
 when my grandfather put one of these into the hand- 
 ful of flowers I sometimes took home, my little cup of 
 bliss was running over. 
 
 This beautiful home had an irresistible attraction for 
 my childhood. I somehow felt that wherever my grand- 
 father and Uncle Colonel were, I had a right to be ; and 
 there my feet would often stray, feeling sure of that 
 welcoming smile from Aunt Colonel, also, even while 
 she was questioning me if I had not run away. At 
 this time, she had been an invalid several years, greatly 
 suffering from rheumatism. I can now recall that sweet, 
 pale face, and the fine blue and white striped linen 
 dress she usually wore, and which was made from cloth 
 manufactured in her own house, so celebrated for the 
 fineness of its texture. Her large easy chair was 
 placed in the sitting-room where she could look, when 
 the doors were opened, through a dark pantry, which 
 communicated with the kitchen ; and thus she could 
 sit here when she couldn't walk, and direct her domestic 
 affairs. Dinah, the colored woman, who received her 
 
lOO PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 instructions at headquarters, was the one to transmit 
 her mistress' orders, and insure their proper execution 
 by the other domestics. 
 
 This colored woman had lived many years in the 
 family, and was highly valued for her faithful and effi- 
 cient service. When Aunt Colonel was not able to 
 direct affairs of the household, old Dinah swayed the 
 domestic sceptre; and woe to all within her jurisdic- 
 tion who were not prompt to fulfil every duty that 
 belonged to them ! She bore the marks of age as I 
 can first remember her, and was very arbitrary in her 
 way of giving orders. This impression was stamped 
 upon my memory by the tone of her voice, when bid- 
 ding me go right to my aunt, and keep there ; as I was 
 sometimes compelled to go in at the kitchen door, 
 when the front gate was fastened so that I could not 
 open it. But I cannot think I was very much daunted 
 by this reception, for the toes of my shoes would always 
 turn in the direction of that house whenever I could 
 escape from the vigilance of my mother. 
 
 At the time of these memories of my childhood. 
 Uncle and Aunt Colonel were past the meridian of 
 life, and only three children remained at home, — Hub- 
 bard, their youngest son ; and the two youngest daugh- 
 ters, Maria and Harriet. There were nine children, 
 six daughters and three sons ; all of whom, except 
 Fanny and Sophia, I distinctly remember. Those two 
 daughters died before I was born. Fanny, named for 
 the child that died, married David Stone, an enter- 
 prising merchant, at the time, in Walpole. She was 
 the second daughter, and lived but little more than a 
 year after her marriage. She was the first whom death 
 had called away from that large and happy circle of 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 01 
 
 brothers and sisters. Sophia, the beautiful, as she 
 was often called, — how can I speak that name with 
 the reverence I feel at this moment, having heard it 
 so often from my mother's lips ? There were only a 
 few days' difference between her age and my mother's ; 
 and the lives of these loving cousins were singularly 
 interwoven, as from babyhood they were almost insep- 
 arable companions. Both were sweet and gentle by 
 nature, and I have heard ray mother say she could 
 never recall a word or look of unkindness that passed 
 between them. It was not very long before my 
 mother's death that she was relating to me some inci- 
 dents of their early life, and I think the memory of 
 this sweet cousin had not lost a particle of its fresh- 
 ness or fragrance for her when she was ninety-six 
 years old. 
 
 I recall, at the present moment, one or two incidents 
 I have heard my mother relate. Ever after she was old 
 enough to leave her own mother, she made her home 
 most of the time in the family of her cousin, Caleb Bel- 
 lows, with whom she had always been a favorite, and by 
 whom she had been greatly petted from her earliest 
 childhood. The distance from his charming home to 
 her Uncle John's was made very short by crossing a deep 
 ravine, which separated the two hills upon which their 
 houses stood ; and these two children found very little 
 to prevent their passing much of their time together. 
 During the warm weather, it was a frequent occurrence 
 for them to bring their porringers of bread and milk, at 
 the close of the day, and take this delicious repast to- 
 gether under the shadowing branches of the great elm 
 which was their trysting-place. This magnificent tree 
 is still standing in all its primitive glory and majesty 
 
102 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 at the bottom of the ravine, making in itself a forest, its 
 long and leafy branches casting their shadows over my 
 own home, where I now sit writing these random recol- 
 lections, and which by a singular coincidence is situated 
 within hearing of the babbling brook that has watered 
 its roots for at least two hundred years. And in that 
 long ago, before my eyes were darkened, and all that is 
 lovely was hidden from my view, I used often to stand 
 upon the edge of this same ravine, looking down upon 
 its wild beauty ; and it required no great stretch of 
 imagination to convert the rippling of this merry flow- 
 ing brook into the chatter of those children over their 
 porringers of bread and milk. 
 
 Another incident which may be worth jotting down, 
 as telling something of young life in those old days, 
 occurred when these children were not quite old enough 
 to be called young ladies. Mrs. Caleb Bellows went to 
 visit her parents at New Ipswich, and requested my 
 mother, at the age of fourteen, to do the honors of the 
 house during her absence. At this time, there was a 
 young student who hailed from New Ipswich ; he was 
 therefore received by the family as a guest for a few 
 weeks. He was remarkably tall, and exceedingly stiff 
 in manners, putting on an air of dignity that was much 
 beyond his years, and quite terrifying to such very 
 young ladies as Sally and Sophia Bellows, who had 
 always been treated as children ; but this young gentle- 
 man had seemingly magnified them into something 
 quite different from what they chose to consider them- 
 selves, for they utterly refused to receive his gallantries. 
 
 It unfortunately happened, on the first day after 
 Mrs. Bellows' departure, that the colonel was called 
 away on business, and detained until a late hour in the 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 103 
 
 evening ; consequently he was not at home, to take his 
 tea with this young trio, where he was so much needed, 
 to give a Httle assurance to the presiding genius of this 
 repast ; who finding herself in an entirely new position, 
 her timidity got the better of her discretion; and at the 
 outset she made one or two blunders in what was the 
 precise etiquette of the tea-table at that period. This 
 did not help to reassure her, and her situation was 
 becoming more painful, as she was making a desper- 
 ate struggle to conceal her merriment, and knew her 
 Cousin Sophia was in full sympathy with her. It took 
 only a moment more to bring things to a crisis. This 
 precise young gentleman made an unfortunate remark, 
 which caused her to look up at her cousin, and they 
 both burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter ; leav- 
 ing the table, they rushed from the room up-stairs, and 
 locked themselves in their chamber, as much frightened 
 at their rudeness as though they had committed a 
 crime. In the morning, they came to the conclusion 
 it was best to tell the colonel all about it ; and, to this 
 end, they sought an interview with him at the earliest 
 moment, and related to him all that had happened. 
 He listened to what they had to say with a very 
 comical expression on his face, and when they begged 
 him to excuse them from appearing at the breakfast- 
 table, he gave his arm to each of them, saying, " Now, 
 girls, you can have no fear ; and, if that young scape- 
 grace puts on any more of his ridiculous airs, it will be 
 he who will run away, and not you." 
 
 This little episode I have heard my mother relate 
 many times, as it afforded an opportunity to show how 
 tenderly and kindly her cousin Col. Caleb would always 
 shield her from everything that could wound or disturb 
 
104 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 her feelings in these early years of her life, when she 
 was so shy and timid ; and how he, perfectly understand- 
 ing her nature, would always, when present, come to 
 her rescue. My mother, during her long life of ninety- 
 six years, cherished the most grateful memory of this 
 friend of her childhood. 
 
 Her lovely cousin Sophia — I can almost hear the 
 tender tone with which my mother always pronounced 
 that name — was too sweet and fragile a flower to 
 bloom long upon earth. She was called home in all 
 her beauty and young loveliness at the age of eighteen, 
 leaving a void in her home here that nothing could ever 
 fill, and a desolation and wound in the hearts of her 
 family that time had no power to heal. 
 
 Her early death seemed foreshadowed to herself, as 
 she said to my mother, many times, she should not live 
 very long. Once, as they stood watching from their 
 front windows a funeral procession moving slowly up 
 the hill leading to the burying-ground, she turned, say- 
 ing, " Sally, I shall very soon be carried up that hill in 
 just that way, and I wish you to be prepared for it." 
 Her prediction proved only too true. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 I MUST now go back to an earlier period, to tiie history 
 of one branch of the family. Many traditions of that 
 earlier time came to me through my grandmother's con- 
 versation ; whose grateful remembrance of the kindness 
 of her husband's brother, Col. John, in the time of her 
 great sorrow, would prompt her to speak of them often. 
 
 When she first became acquainted with her sister- 
 in-law, they were both at the best period of life, — 
 between forty and fifty years of age. Both were in- 
 tensely practical women, having superintended large 
 households, and reared large families of children ; and 
 my grandmother would say, the only thing in which I 
 surpassed my sister Rebecca, she had only nine chil- 
 dren, while I had five more than that number. At this 
 period, it will be remembered it was decreed that noth- 
 ing should be used in the colonies but what could 
 be grown and manufactured by our people ; and in 
 almost every household, whether rich or poor, might be 
 found the spinning-wheel and quill-wheel and loom, 
 and all the apparatus necessary for making cloth, both 
 cotton and linen ; and every man, woman, and child 
 was clad throughout in what was called, at that time, 
 homespun. Ambition was stimulated, and there was 
 great competition, especially in the linen fabrics; as 
 these were used for all kinds of purposes,— under- 
 garments, dresses, aprons, pocket handkerchiefs, and 
 neckerchiefs. Whatever could not be made by them- 
 
lo6 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 selves, from flax and sheep's wool, people learned 
 to do without. Col. John had too much of the Bel- 
 lows spirit and patriotism to purchase a single article 
 from a foreign power that was continually heaping 
 insults upon his country; and his wife deeply sympa- 
 thized in this sentiment. His daughters had always 
 been elegantly dressed, for his great pride was centred 
 in his family, and everything that fancy or fashion 
 suggested was provided with a liberal hand. Under 
 the new law of the colonies, as has been said, a change 
 became necessary ; all these foreign luxuries must be 
 laid aside. As his family was the leading one, their 
 example would be followed by the rest of the com- 
 munity, at least by all loyal citizens. It was this state 
 of public affairs that aroused Aunt Colonel's ambition ; 
 and she turned her attention particularly to this depart- 
 ment of the household economics. The finest wool and 
 beautiful flax were raised upon this great estate, and 
 in sufficient quantity to make cloth for an army, if 
 need had been ; and it was not only the quantity but, 
 the quality, that was the more remarkable. It was said, 
 that some of her white linen would equal in fineness of 
 texture the imported Holland that was used in those 
 days for gentlemen's shirts, not used for the bosoms 
 alone, as at this day, but for the whole garment, long, 
 large, and wide, as I can bear testimony ; for how can 
 I ever forget the long stretches of hemming, every 
 stitch taken with my then little fingers, and the long 
 side seams sewed over and over, and then felled down .' 
 But more especially do I remember the stitching of 
 wristbands and collars. A thread was drawn out, and 
 two threads were taken at each stitch. 
 
 The linen fabric that was made for dresses was 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES I07 
 
 famed for its beauty. It was blue and white narrow 
 stripe, colored in the yarn, and the texture was as deli- 
 cate as the imported muslin. The fine checked linen 
 made for aprons was beautiful. 
 
 When I was five years old, Harriet, the young- 
 est of Col. John's family, was ten ; we attended the 
 same school, and, as she passed our door, she would 
 often call to take me with her. I remember perfectly 
 her slight, trim figure, and pale, sweet face, like her 
 mother's. There was a small, round scar on her 
 temple, near the left eye, about as large as a five-cent 
 piece. It was made by a burn, when she was a baby. 
 This scar was, in my estimation, a great addition to 
 her beauty. But I more especially remember the 
 glossy, striped dress and the lovely blue plaid apron, 
 always shining, and without a wrinkle in it. I think 
 this daughter must have resembled her sister Sophia. 
 She was always noted for her kind and gentle manner, 
 loving and tender to all her friends during her short 
 life. I shall never forget a most painful illness, pro- 
 duced by a very slight accident, when she was about 
 twenty-two years old : she ran the head of a needle 
 under her finger-nail, which she did not mind much at 
 the time, but it soon commenced paining her until it 
 amounted to agony. Her hand and arm were fright- 
 fully swollen, and nothing could relieve the pain. Old 
 Dr. Twitchell, of Keene, was sent for; and the first 
 thing he did was to lay the finger and hand open to the 
 bone, which probably saved her life. I recollect the 
 trouble and excitement this occasioned in the whole 
 community of friends, and it was a long time before 
 she recovered. It was a number of months she tended 
 her hand upon a pillow. It was the impression of 
 
I08 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 many that she never fully recovered from that illness. 
 I think she was twenty-five or six when she died. 
 How perfectly I recall the deep sympathy that was ex- 
 pressed during this painful and long illness, and the 
 solemn hush that pervaded the street on the day of her 
 funeral, many of the leading business men being her 
 near kindred! 
 
 At that time, she, with her sister Maria, had, since 
 their father's death, been making their home with their 
 sister Hannah, Mrs. David Stone. This was his sec- 
 ond marriage, he having previously married Fanny, the 
 sister next older than Maria, whose death we recorded. 
 They occupied what is now called the Elmwood house, 
 Mr. Stone having built this residence in 1812; and, at 
 the time, it was considered the handsomest dwelling- 
 house in the village. He had previously occupied, and 
 I think built, the house Mr. William Buffum and family 
 have since owned. 
 
 But to return to Aunt Colonel and her manufacture 
 of cloth. Her success had become widely known, prob- 
 ably reported by the people, who came from towns quite 
 a long distance off to get spinning to do of both wool 
 and flax. As the only way of travelling was on horse- 
 back, they often made a most ludicrous appearance 
 when bringing home the product of several weeks' 
 labor. The piles of yarn would be tied upon the horse 
 behind them and before them, often wholly concealing 
 the rider, especially when seen approaching from a dis- 
 tance ; and a lively imagination could easily convert 
 this moving mass into some huge animal belonging to 
 some unknown species. There was one woman in par- 
 ticular that belonged to Aunt Colonel's troop of spin- 
 ners, and who lived nearly twenty miles away. She 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES I09 
 
 was always spoken of as "old Mother Barnard." No 
 disrespect was really intended. It only seemed the 
 most fitting way to specify her quaint individuality. 
 She was especially noted for the huge piles of yarn she 
 would bring on the smallest specimen of a horse. Old 
 Dinah would sometimes say, unless one had a near 
 view, it would be hard to tell which was the yarn or 
 which was the horse. The woman herself was physi- 
 cally very diminutive ; but those who belonged to that 
 household soon learned that that was not the way to 
 measure her, particularly the colonel's boys, Josiah and 
 Roswell, who at first considered her only a target for 
 their sharp shooting. They quickly found that their 
 arrows would invariably recoil upon themselves, often 
 giving them much the worst of the game ; for they had 
 nothing to match the keen wit of this woman, and, 
 to the surprise of all, they were forced to make an 
 ignominious retreat, to the great satisfaction of my 
 grandfather, who could never tolerate even the sem- 
 blance of rudeness to the poorest creature. Col. John's 
 sons were strictly trained by him in the observance of 
 good manners ; but we can suppose they were, like 
 all boys, overflowing with exuberance of spirits, as 
 Josiah in particular was prone to be. He was so full 
 of mischief that he was constantly getting himself in 
 little scrapes, which annoyed his father so much that 
 on one occasion he told him that he deserved the great- 
 est punishment he could inflict, and so he had fully 
 determined to send him to college, and now nothing 
 remained but for him to prepare himself for it. This 
 bit of information came to me from hearing Cousin Si, 
 as he was always called, relate the story when mak- 
 ing one of his evening visits to my Uncle Abel. I 
 
no PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 was then fifteen or sixteen years old. His conversa- 
 tion was always very interesting to me. There was no 
 better talker in the Bellows race, — perhaps not one 
 who had more general knowledge, or could impart what 
 he knew in a more interesting manner or better choice 
 of words. He said, at this time, his father would have 
 succeeded in carrying out his threat of putting him 
 through college if the boy had not succeeded in run- 
 ning away. He came to the conclusion he would ob- 
 tain his knowledge in his own way, and that was by 
 observation. It used to be said of him, "What Si 
 Bellows don't see and hear is not worth seeing or 
 hearing." He was fine-looking, having the culture 
 of a gentleman; but tradition says he did not wholly 
 lose the love of mischief that was born in him. Well, 
 this Mother Barnard made herself invaluable to Aunt 
 Colonel ; for, while she could spin such quantities of 
 yarn, nearly as fine as a spider's web, Aunt Colonel 
 could make such cloth as no one else attempted to 
 imitate ; and this branch of industry was carried on 
 on such a large scale, wholly superintended by Aunt 
 Colonel, that it required a large number of operatives. 
 There was a Scotch woman employed for more than 
 twenty years : she did no other work but weave. 
 There was a large basement room in the house fitted 
 up for this special purpose, and here Mrs. Sally Lath- 
 wood reigned a queen at the great loom ; and war to 
 any invaders of this precinct ! 
 
 In some of the earlier years of her labor in this 
 family, when the colonel's boys were between man- 
 hood and boyhood, there was an occasional skrimmage 
 between them and Mrs. Lathwood. I think, at some 
 period, she had been greatly troubled by their depreda- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES III 
 
 tions in her room, through the spirit of mischief that 
 seemed to possess them, and the colonel then and 
 there ordered them never to set foot on her premises 
 again. When the colonel gave a command, his mili- 
 tary experience led him to expect it would be obeyed. 
 Some time had elapsed, and order reigned in Warsaw ; 
 but this queen of the loom was none the less regarded 
 as an enemy to the peace of these juveniles; and no 
 opportunity was lost to annoy her in some way when- 
 ever she was discovered outside of her premises. Her 
 Scotch nature would not allow her to receive an insult 
 tamely. She believed thoroughly in the old Mosaic 
 law, a tooth for a tooth, and an eye for an eye; and 
 it happened, sometimes, that these young culprits got 
 the worst of it. 
 
 The colonel left home, one morning, with the expec- 
 tation of being detained through the day. Roswell and 
 Si could not lose the opportunity to pay off, at least 
 in part, some of this old debt. They had bided their 
 time already too long. They had plotted to make 
 what they termed a military attack upon the enemy's 
 camp. To this end, they busily employed themselves 
 with the necessary preparations. Some of the help, 
 who were friendly to the old woman, informed her 
 what was going on. She fortified herself at once with 
 the means she had, barricading her doors, and arming 
 herself with a long birch rod, saying there was nothing 
 that contained so much virtue in it for boys as that, 
 when well applied. After making these preparations, 
 she awaited the foe ; she had not long to wait before 
 their approach was announced by the tooting of a tin 
 horn and the beating upon a tin pan. This music was 
 performed by a couple of boys, recruited in the neigh- 
 
112 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 borhood for this occasion. Her door was soon assailed, 
 which at first resisted their battering ram ; but it soon 
 flew open, leaving a free entrance to these wild-cats. 
 Captain Si's first order was to seize the booty, which 
 she stoutly defended ; but, being overcome at last, they 
 took possession of her quill-wheel and swifts, and com- 
 menced marching off in great triumph with these tro- 
 phies of war, when they were unexpectedly met on 
 the war-path by an ally of the enemy not put down in 
 the programme. The colonel, unbeknown to them, 
 had returned sooner than he himself expected, and, 
 hearing the uproar below, was on his way to see what 
 the trouble was, when he met Si and Roswell, bearing 
 off the quill-wheel and swifts which they had so ruth- 
 lessly captured. Cousin Si said he knew, by the twin- 
 kle in the old gentleman's eye, they would not get the 
 thrashing they deserved; but the colonel, taking in 
 at once the situation, shouted in a tone of thunder, 
 " Halt ! " He then ordered them to return at once 
 their booty, and to report themselves to their mother, 
 where he should investigate their proceedings. The 
 result was, that they were ordered to go respectfully 
 and humbly, and ask the old woman's pardon. This 
 was a terrible humiliation, and, rather than submit to 
 it, they begged their father earnestly to give them the 
 thrashing they had expected ; but no, a respectfully 
 worded and courteous apology had to be made. 
 
 I have already said Cousin Si was in the way of 
 passing an evening, not unfrequently, at my Uncle 
 Abel's house, bringing with him his great exuber- 
 ance of spirits, and the house usually became a scene 
 of great merriment while he remained ; and sometimes 
 his stories would make it a little uproarious. When 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 13 
 
 he told that story of his father's intention to send him 
 to college, and the manner of his escape, Mr. Dickin- 
 son was present. He was the minister of this place, 
 and had a standing invitation to take tea at my uncle's 
 on a given evening each week. He was also a bach- 
 elor. His keen sense of the ridiculous and brilliant 
 wit, he would sometimes indulge in, especially when 
 he came in contact with those as keen as himself. 
 It can easily be imagined there was some pretty 
 lively joking. Mr. Dickinson, on this occasion, told 
 the story of some one saying, " If a Bellows should 
 happen to be shut up in a room with a book, if there 
 was no other possible means of escape, he would go 
 through the window ; " and he thought Cousin Si was 
 a pretty fair specimen of that particular class who be- 
 longed to the race. 
 
 As I present these home incidents, I am led to sug- 
 gest that if there is not as much enthusiasm over them 
 as over the excavations of Nineveh and Troy, I hope it 
 will be borne in mind, these persons and things have 
 not been buried from all knowledge of the world quite 
 as many years as those ancient cities. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 At the time I was about six years of age, Maria, who 
 was not very far in her teens, attended a school, having 
 the dignified name of academy, the first of that order 
 that ever had been taught in Walpole. With other 
 branches I particularly remember that lessons in music 
 were given, and Maria was only too glad to avail her- 
 self of this opportunity to gratify her taste in that 
 direction. She had a sweet voice, as I can distinctly 
 remember, as she used frequently to drop in evenings 
 to sing with my mother, who, at that time, took the 
 lead in music both at church and at private musical 
 entertainments, which were quite popular at that period. 
 They did not then, as now, have the assistance of any 
 instrument, unless it were a flute, which was said to ac- 
 cord perfectly with her voice. 
 
 At this time, the colonel purchased the first piano 
 that was ever brought into Walpole. It was said that 
 he imported it directly from France. It occasioned no 
 small excitement, as well as curiosity. I cannot resist 
 telling here a little anecdote, although it may slightly 
 compromise dear old Uncle Salmon and Aunt Lydia. 
 
 He lived about a mile from the village, and I hap- 
 pened to be there at the time the piano-forte arrived. 
 That word had not been interpreted to many of the in- 
 habitants of that period ; and, when the huge box in 
 which it was brought, and labelled in large capitals, 
 was being unloaded, quite a number of people gathered 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES IIS 
 
 about it, critically examining the letters, and greatly 
 puzzled as to what they might spell. One individual 
 very knowingly informed them that it was the name of 
 an extinct animal, whose bones had been dug up some- 
 where, and wired together, and were now being carried 
 about for exhibition. Uncle Salmon was not quite sat- 
 isfied with this explanation ; and, when an opportunity 
 presented, he asked his Uncle John what kind of an 
 animal he had got there. The colonel had heard the 
 explanation already given, and replied, it was " a very 
 noisy animal, particularly when there were many spec- 
 tators about " ; and, with a twinkle that did not escape 
 notice, he added, " it had never been known to bite or 
 otherwise harm any one, but, on the contrary, was very 
 much admired by young ladies." Uncle Salmon put 
 this answer in his pocket, and started for home. The 
 mystery of the box remained wholly sealed to him ; but 
 he assured himself that Liddy, as he always called his 
 wife, would know something about it, for what did she 
 not know ? Greatly, to his astonishment, however, she 
 knew nothing but what he had himself told her. 
 
 Her own curiosity now was thoroughly awakened ; 
 and she said, before another sun went down, she would 
 see and know what kind of an animal had been im- 
 ported just for the benefit of the colonel's family. I 
 have no doubt that before the sun set she succeeded in 
 obtaining the desired information. She was a woman, 
 let me say, now her name is mentioned, whose natural 
 abilities were quite remarkable, and I can remember 
 when there was no one who had so many charms for 
 me as my Aunt Liddy. She was particularly fine- 
 looking, and her kindly, winning ways won at once the 
 hearts of children. 
 
Il6 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 I think it would be very amusing, particularly to 
 those who have been accustomed to the grand piano of 
 the present time, if they could see one of those instru- 
 ments of that early period. This one that was pur- 
 chased for Cousin Maria was a very large instrument, 
 having a good deal of ornamental work about it; and 
 probably she got all the music out of it that was possi- 
 ble, and in its measure it was sweet music too, but its 
 capacity was very limited as compared with what in- 
 struments of to-day furnish to our ear. And now the 
 thought comes over me, how many sweet and loving 
 daughters of our race could be counted up who once 
 kept time with these silver notes in the merry dance in 
 that bright and hospitable mansion, but who now are 
 sleeping where our golden sunsets long ago shed on 
 them their last lingering beams, bidding them good- 
 night. 
 
 This instrument that I have referred to was taken to 
 New York, for old acquaintance sake, at the time of 
 Maria's marriage with Mr. Center, and was destroyed 
 in the great fire in that city. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 At that period, I think the community might have 
 been called a church-going people, although the meet- 
 ing-house was located on the top of a steep hill, a mile 
 from the village centre ; I have sometimes heard it des- 
 cribed as being a mile straight up in the air. 
 
 I distinctly remember with what regularity Uncle 
 Colonel's chaise would pass our door at the foot of this 
 long, weary road that lay between him and the place 
 he was seeking. Seated in this vehicle might be seen 
 Aunt Colonel with two of her daughters, the colonel 
 always in advance, on horseback ; and, as he had great 
 pride in the feminine portion of his household, it can 
 easily be imagined they were always carefully, and even 
 elegantly, dressed. I think some of the blood of that 
 chivalry, of which we read in the olden time, must in 
 some manner unknown to us have found its way into 
 the colonel's veins ; for the knight of the black plume 
 could not have exhibited more gallantry than did the 
 colonel when waiting upon his wife or daughters. 
 He always rode a handsome, high-spirited horse, that 
 would often become restive, when compelled to keep 
 at the side of the carriage, slowly creeping up the hill ; 
 and he would allow him to gallop a short distance 
 ahead; then wheel round, and come back to the side 
 of the carriage. He would escort them in this manner 
 until within a short distance of the meeting-house, 
 when he would ride on, and dismount in season to re- 
 
Il8 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 ceive the ladies as they drove up to the door. This 
 was no outward show of attention ; the same spirit of 
 courtesy was observed within the retirement of home 
 as well as abroad. 
 
 Maria and Harriet, the youngest of nine children, 
 were much petted by their father, who chose to treat 
 them as children when they were old enough to be con- 
 sidered young ladies. When addressing them, he would 
 give them their pet names. Birdie and Dovey. Perhaps 
 Birdie was chosen for Maria, for the reason that she 
 had such a sweet voice for singing ; and Harriet's was 
 not less applicable, with her sweet, expressive eyes, 
 and gentle, winning ways. These two daughters re- 
 mained at home, to cheer and comfort their father's 
 solitude after their mother's death. Although I was 
 quite a child when my uncle died, in 1812, I can recall 
 many incidents that occurred, — one in particular, that 
 occasioned some merriment, as it probably lost nothing 
 by the way Cousin Si related it to the friends. Maria 
 took her mother's place at table, and some friend had 
 joined them at tea. The conversation becoming quite 
 interesting, they lingered around the hospitable board 
 some time after partaking of all the appetizing things 
 that were usually served so bountifully at this last meal 
 of the day ; and, when Maria rose, giving the signal for 
 leaving, she dropped something which she attempted 
 hastily to recover, and caught some portion of her dress 
 on the handle of the teapot, tipping it over directly 
 upon her back. She gave a little shriek, and attempted 
 to escape from the room. Her father, forgetting for 
 the moment that they had lingered at the table suffi- 
 ciently long to cool all the water in the teapots, sup- 
 posed she was being scalded, and caught a large 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES II9 
 
 pitcher of cold water from the table, and started in 
 quick pursuit, giving a dash of its liquid contents 
 over head and shoulders every time he got sufficiently 
 near, until the water was exhausted. Maria, in her 
 race, had doubled upon her retreat, and returned to 
 the room from which she had started, and sat down, 
 with the water streaming from her clothes, saying, 
 "Why, father, have you really been trying to drown 
 me ?" In a moment, the mistake flashed upon the 
 colonel, and the whole ended in a roar of laughter. 
 
 I don't think I have related this little episode as well 
 as Cousin Si used to. There are some touches to the 
 picture which I have no power to give, but, as rendered 
 by him, we could see the entire chase. 
 
 About this time, a Miss Caldwell came from Boston 
 to Walpole, bringing with her a niece, the daughter of 
 a clergyman, Rev. Mr. Dana, of Barre, Mass. He mar- 
 ried, for a second wife, the sister of this Miss Caldwell ; 
 and Mrs. Dana had bequeathed to her sister's loving 
 care two little daughters, Sarah and Isabella. When old 
 enough, they were placed in a popular boarding-school, 
 near Boston. Isabella did not live to finish her educa- 
 tion ; Sarah, when graduated, was brought to Walpole, 
 as I have said, by her aunt, and both were received at 
 Uncle Colonel's as guests. 
 
 A beautiful friendship was formed between Maria 
 and this young lady, that strengthened with years, and 
 lasted through life. The most loving and familiar in- 
 tercourse was kept up during their girlhood, and suf- 
 fered no interruption after Miss Dana's marriage with 
 Maj. Thomas Bellows, the cousin of her friend. 
 
 A few years rolled on, giving time for much to hap- 
 pen in the lives of these two individuals. The first sad 
 
I20 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 event came to Maria in the death of her father, which 
 was a great sorrow to all his surviving children, but 
 especially to Maria and Harriet, who had never left 
 their home. They could not think of their father as 
 an old man, and he was not old as we look upon age. 
 I think he was only a few years more than sixty, a fine, 
 courtly looking gentleman, and just as young to these 
 daughters as he had ever been ; and so how could they 
 spare him ? But a sad silence now fell upon this home, 
 once the scene of so much activity and gaiety, — a place 
 so often sought by lovers of good society and good 
 cheer ; for there was no one of old Col. Benjamin's 
 children who carried out so true to the letter his own 
 ideas of hospitality as his son John had done for long 
 years. There was nothing left of all this now but a 
 memory. 
 
 Maria and Harriet took up their abode with their sis- 
 ter, Mrs. David Stone ; Hubbard, the youngest son of 
 the colonel, took possession of the homestead, bringing 
 with him a wife to preside where his mother once 
 reigned a queen. 
 
 Another change in due time came to Maria. Her 
 sister Harriet slowly drifted into that long and painful 
 illness of which she died ; and it was this one who 
 soothed and comforted her through the weary months 
 she lingered. 
 
 During this time, her friend had also experienced a 
 deep and life-long sorrow in the death of her husband, 
 who was so suddenly taken away, and also the death of 
 her first child, a daughter six years old. At her hus- 
 band's death, there was another little one of two or 
 three years of age left, to brighten her lonely pathway. 
 There was now a stronger and more tender friendship, 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 12 1 
 
 if possible, between these two, — a bond born of that 
 deep sympathy which a few only can ever know. 
 
 Some time after all these sad occurrences, Maria was 
 married to Mr. Anson Center, a gentleman who had 
 long been engaged in business with her brother-in-law, 
 ]\Ir. Stone. 
 
 On the morning of her marriage, she left W'alpole 
 for her distant home, taking the last look upon her na- 
 tive town, and bidding adieu to the lovely home of her 
 chUdhood and the friends of her girlhood ; but probably 
 no thought came to her in this moment of excitement 
 that her adieus were to be forever, as it sadly proved ! 
 And thus this most lovely star disappeared from our 
 horizon forever. I could only think of her as such ever 
 after the death of her sister Harriet. They were al- 
 most inseparable ; wherever one appeared, the other 
 was sure to be seen. 
 
 The especial interest I alwa)s took in these two 
 daughters of Uncle Colonel was probably connected 
 with the fact, that they were the only ones who re- 
 mained at home after I was old enough to remember 
 persons and events, and therefore they have been asso- 
 ciated with nearly all the memories I have cherished of 
 that grand old place ; and this must be accepted as my 
 reason for dwelling so long upon their early and loving 
 life. 
 
 I can now distinctly recall, after the lapse of more 
 than seventy years, the expression of each face, the dif- 
 ference in each form, their usual manner of dress ; and 
 I can almost hear, at this moment, the different tones 
 of voice in which each would give her friendly greet- 
 ing. Indeed, any one who had ever known Maria could 
 not easily forget her animated tone, and the bright, 
 
122 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 playful look of her face ; while Harriet, who was much 
 taller, wore a sweet, sad look, and spoke in soft, languid 
 tones, in perfect keeping with her whole bearing : her 
 movements were always slow, but graceful ; and, when 
 in repose, she would have been a beautiful model for a 
 painter. Maria was equally interesting, but not in the 
 same way. Her lively, animated manner was always 
 most attractive especially when engaged in conversa- 
 tion, which used to be called brilliant ; she was noted 
 for her quickness at repartee. These qualities, joined 
 to her love for music, made her at that period a belle 
 in society. It was some time after Harriet's death that 
 Maria's marriage took place; at what age, I cannot say, 
 but I know she was in no haste to give herself away. 
 
 After an absence of some length from my home, in 
 that far-away time when I had something left to return 
 to beside those of my own household, aunts, uncles, 
 and cousins were still in the old places ; and the first 
 whom I always sought on these returns was my Aunt 
 Sarah Bellows, that long and true friend of Cousin 
 Maria's, whom I have already mentioned. How vividly 
 I recall ray surprise, on that morning, when coming in 
 I found my Aunt Sarah, sitting with a pink and white 
 blossom on her bosom ; for lovely indeed as a fresh 
 blown rose was this child of one or two years, resting 
 there ; the cordial greeting, too, as she said, " Emily, 
 can you tell me who I have got here .? " It only took 
 a moment to recognize those eyes, and I at once ex- 
 claimed, " It is Maria Center's child ! " She then told 
 me the sad story of Maria's last illness and death, 
 bequeathing to her motherly care and tender love this 
 treasure which she must leave behind ! How true she 
 was to the letter and spirit of this trust, we all wit- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES I 23 
 
 nessed; while she herself has long since given her 
 account with joy in heaven to the one from whom she 
 received it. 
 
 There is one little episode in her beautiful child-life 
 which comes so clearly to my mind ; and, knowing how 
 pleasant it is sometimes to be set back into the midst 
 of these trifling scenes of our early years, I cannot 
 omit relating it. 
 
 This little one always evinced a great partiality for 
 pets. Her feelings in this direction were not in the 
 slightest degree restrained, for this mother thoroughly 
 believed that children's affections could be cultivated 
 through their love for animals as well as for human 
 beings ; and so the child was permitted to have some- 
 thing to pet and take care of, which was usually a kit- 
 ten, or two kittens, if she so chose. Her first posses- 
 sion of one of these little creatures raised her to the 
 height of human felicity. One of these pets was evi- 
 dently very fond of music, and whenever the piano was 
 played would leap on the shoulder of the performer and 
 sit there in quiet enjoyment : sometimes she would 
 walk back and forth across the keys, seemingly in order 
 to make music for herself. This cat was a great fav- 
 orite, and the little Maria thought, one morning, she 
 would take a pleasant walk with her ; so she gathered 
 her up in her arms, and set out towards my home. 
 Little puss was very quiet, suffering no apprehension 
 until she reached the foot of the hill, when a passing 
 team frightened her; and, without a moment's warning, 
 she made her escape, rushing into a ravine on one side 
 of the road, where it was impossible to follow her. I 
 shall never forget the distress in which the child came 
 in, and no words could at first give her any comfort : 
 
124 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 she seemed almost heart-broken. The little cat, how- 
 ever, was afterward recovered, and drawn still closer to 
 the child's loving bosom. Perhaps the one who owned 
 this pet will remember this occurrence better than I do. 
 
 Rebecca, the eldest daughter of Col. John, was the 
 wife of Roger Vose. He was a young lawyer, at the 
 time of their marriage, and was one in that literary 
 circle of celebrities that formed a conspicuous part of 
 the society at that early period in Walpole. She was 
 tall, and moved about with much grace and dignity. It 
 was said the colonel was very proud of this daughter, 
 calling her sometimes his queen. She was several 
 years older than my mother. My first recollection of 
 her is when she called upon my mother, one day, bring- 
 ing Sophia, her oldest child, who was a little younger 
 than myself. I was then not five years old, but I dis- 
 tinctly recollect the comparison made in our size ; and, 
 although I was older, she was taller and stouter than 
 myself, which, as I then looked upon it, was quite 
 humiliating to me. 
 
 Mrs. Vose had four children, three daughters and a 
 son. The son followed his father's profession, and 
 won for himself the same honors, — the position of 
 judge. Never having married, he made his home with 
 his two unmarried sisters, Sophia and Katherine, who 
 have also passed a^way. As I now recall these friends 
 and companions of my early years, when the future 
 seemed so full of promise and of happiness to us all, 
 I can hardly realize the sun is now shining upon the 
 graves of all save the one who is telling this story. 
 
 Mrs. Vose was a confirmed invalid, for many years 
 before her death. Sophia had hardly attained to young 
 womanhood, when it became necessary for her to direct 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 25 
 
 the domestic affairs of the household, in which her 
 mature judgment and executive ability surprised her 
 older friends. Her face was always like a ray of sun- 
 shine, a perfect index of her heart, so full of kindness. 
 She always wore the smile of her grandmother. Aunt 
 Colonel, whom she so much resembled. 
 
 There was no place more delightful to visit than the 
 hospitable home of Judge Vose. His three daughters 
 and son all remained with him during his life, but 
 Rebecca was the only one of his four children who ever 
 married. 
 
 At that time, there was a pleasant circle of young 
 people, both ladies and gentlemen, and among them 
 were some very fine singers. I can distinctly remem- 
 ber, it was often proposed on warm, bright summer 
 evenings, to go up on the other hill, and sit under 
 those magnificent old trees in the front yard, where 
 were always seats for the family and friends, and there 
 we would exercise our vocal powers, knowing how very 
 fond the judge was of music. 
 
 One evening, especially, I recall, when the court was 
 in session, at that time in Keene. The judge usually 
 returned home every night, and frequently brought 
 some of his professional friends with him. I remember, 
 at this particular time, the pleasure he expressed in the 
 unexpected entertainment given to himself and his 
 several guests. Nearly all the old songs they called 
 for were happily quite familiar to us ; " Scots Wha 
 Hae" and " Jeptha's Daughter," finding great favor; 
 but we adjourned to the house, to sing our parting 
 song, and a glass of wine was presented, according to 
 custom, with which we took a cup of kindness yet, for 
 auld lang syne. 
 
126 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 There are, at this time, but two or three living, to 
 cherish a tender memory of that dear old home, full of 
 old-fashioned furniture and old-fashioned hospitality, 
 and to bear testimony to the patient care and devo- 
 tion of those daughters, especially of Sophia, upon 
 whose care her father mostly depended, through his 
 long sickness, with paralysis, of years. 
 
 I shall never forget her words, when asked if she 
 was not ready to spare him ; she replied, that she had 
 never for a moment, in all her own and his long years 
 of weariness, felt that by any possibility she could give 
 him up. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Another son, the eldest of Col. John, was Cousin 
 Si, whom I have only incidentally mentioned. He 
 should have a fuller record in these fragments of our 
 race which I am picking up than I am able to give, as 
 he left Walpole, and went out of my sight, taking his 
 family, many years before he died, locating in northern 
 New Hampshire. The recollections, however, that I 
 still retain of him are, that he was considered one of 
 the most brilliant members of the colonel's family. The 
 elegant and beautiful home he built, in 1812, and in 
 which he lived several years, stands within call of my 
 voice at this moment, — a sacred monument of those 
 who were once with us, but now gone. His house was 
 built directly opposite his father's, commanding the 
 same lovely and extensive prospect. 
 
 I have a vivid recollection of the first party given, 
 after taking possession of their new home. Perhaps it 
 was more deeply impressed upon my memory, for the 
 great disappointment I had in being thought too young 
 to be taken with the family, although I was included 
 in the invitation ; but I was soon after partially com- 
 pensated by an invitation to visit, at the new mansion, 
 a young cousin, the daughter of Prof. Hubbard of Dart- 
 mouth College, who was here. This visit was made 
 particularly pleasant by having a free passport over 
 the whole house given us. I shall never forget my child- 
 ish admiration, on entering the drawing-room ; some- 
 
130 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 from others of the same name, was always dignified in 
 her bearing, and yet without hauteur. Her genial con- 
 versation would at once dispel the thought of it ; and 
 her remarkable conversational powers were very hap- 
 pily transmitted to her children. I cannot think of 
 one of them who was not gifted with an unusual flu- 
 ency in use of language, giving fullest force to the 
 clear and sensible ideas on the subjects they were 
 talking upon. All were passionately fond of music, 
 and the taste in that direction was highly cultivated. 
 
 I can remember, that Aunt Si for many years led 
 with rare fidelity and success the choir at church, be- 
 fore any of her daughters were old enough to take part. 
 Her brother also, Mr. Oliver Sparhawk, was once a 
 leader there. How vividly I can recall her in her 
 palmy days ! Her gracious manner of receiving com- 
 pany ; none could ever feel that their visit was inoppor- 
 tune, or that they were unwelcome guests. 
 
 Her home was handsome and orderly, seemingly just 
 the same as when they began life. There was no pre- 
 tence of fashion ; you were always surrounded with the 
 same simple elegance ; no one could leave the house 
 without feeling both physically and intellectually re- 
 freshed. 
 
 In the address at the funeral of Aunt Si, in 1869, 
 Dr. Bellows says of her: — 
 
 " She knew, face to face, the founder of this town 
 and the large family that bore his honored name, and 
 which she herself wore worthily for three generations ; 
 all his sons and daughters, so long pillars of this com- 
 munity ; all the successive ministers of the town, who 
 have taught its faith and piety ; the venerable physi- 
 cians, who have watched by its bedsides ; the brilliant 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 13I 
 
 lawyers and noted men, who have left a traditional 
 glory behind them. She seemed almost a part of the 
 Providence that watches the generations come and go. 
 
 "She was a skilful, industrious, unwearied mother 
 and housekeeper; a considerate neighbor; an active 
 servant of all town charities and social duties ; a hos- 
 pitable, friendly heart ; a wise and sound adviser ; a 
 supporter by example and service of all our higher 
 interests ; a woman of a dignified and unreproachable 
 life, extended to an extreme length, but never falling 
 below its own promise, never losing its early direction 
 of probity and self-respect, of virtue and usefulness ; 
 and, above all, of humble piety and prayer. 
 
 "Through what watchings, cares, and solicitudes 
 must not one, so widely related, have passed during 
 those ninety-six years of life ! And what but a noble 
 ambition of duty, a living piety, could have carried her 
 serenely through it all .? And has she not been a pat- 
 tern of all the domestic virtues and graces > With a 
 constitutional pride of character and duty, an inborn 
 industry and thrift, a feeling of competency for all her 
 cares, she has been an example of a true New Eng- 
 land woman ; strong, patient, industrious ; domestic, 
 self-respectful, bearing her own burdens with dignity, 
 and those of others with patience ; erect in will and 
 purpose as in person ; her mental and moral faculties 
 even clearer than her senses, not one of which really 
 failed her to the last,— for, until within a very few 
 years, she has been a housekeeper, and the centre of 
 her scattered family, so often returning to her own 
 roof. 
 
 ''What composure, self-respect, and solidity charac- 
 terized her speech and her deportment ; what terseness 
 
132 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 and good sense and aptness of thought and expres- 
 sion ; how living her memory, how wide her circum- 
 spection, how manifold her thoughtfulness ! Her faith 
 was serene, constant, all-pervading. She loved com- 
 pleteness, and was negligent of no duty. 
 
 " What a memory for the immediate and remote de- 
 scendants of such an ancestress ! What a treasure for 
 the recollection of the Church, of which she was so 
 long the most aged member, and of the community of 
 which she was the most venerable representative of 
 her sex ! " 
 
 The daughters, and there were six of them, were 
 noted for possessing more than a common share of in- 
 tellectual qualities, which were more fully recognized as 
 each filled so admirably the place of wife and mother. 
 
 These six daughters are now all resting in the com- 
 mon bed prepared for their kindred, of whom it is said, 
 nearly one thousand are sleeping within this sacred 
 precinct. These gifted daughters have perpetuated 
 themselves, by leaving their own impress more or less 
 vividly stamped upon their numerous descendants. 
 
 I have before me now the record, which was made at 
 the time of the family gathering, under the title of 
 " Our Recent Graves," in which one of these daughters 
 of Uncle Si is thus spoken of : " Catharine, daughter 
 of Josiah Bellows, first, and wife of Judge Bellows, of 
 Concord, N.H., was one of the most exalted and intelli- 
 gent women our family has produced. She united 
 strength of intellect with gentleness of heart ; a large 
 interest in universal themes with a punctilious fidelity 
 to domestic duties. Formed for meditation and study, 
 an admirable talker, and most sympathetic listener, yet 
 she discharged the duties of wife and mother with a 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 133 
 
 true New England loyalty of heart and hand. Duty 
 was her watchword. The beauty of her brow, the 
 heavenly purity and softness of her blue eyes, spoke 
 the fine proportions and transparent purity and celes- 
 tial aspirations of the soul within. Full of faith and 
 resignation, this gentle and thoughtful woman, large- 
 minded and high-hearted, passed away, leaving the 
 circle of her kindred permanent mourners over so 
 much perished worth and power." 
 
 An older daughter, Ellen, was one of those referred 
 to when it was stated that Aunt Si or some one of her 
 daughters sang in the choir, or played the organ, or 
 did both, in the old Walpole church every Sunday dur- 
 ing thirty-five consecutive years. Her love of music 
 was akin to her refined tastes in all other directions : 
 to a bright intellect was joined an earnest nature, 
 which led her to interest herself during mature life in 
 various works of benevolence. She was early married 
 to Mr. Gill Wheelock, a Boston merchant. Two of 
 her children are still living : Mary Ellen, whose hus- 
 band was Nathan Chandler, of New York ; and Henry 
 Gassett, who married Harriet Hayward Dorr, whose 
 mother was Eliza Bellows, a granddaughter of the 
 old colonel. The other child of Mrs. Wheelock was 
 George Gill, who became a leading physician in New 
 York City. Mrs. Wheelock after the death of her 
 husband married Jonathan Howe, of Boston, who sur- 
 vives her, she having died in 1859, honored and be- 
 loved. 
 
 Still another one of those daughters, who, by their 
 voices and the heart with which they sang, made such 
 delightful music for so many years in the old church, 
 was Anne Foster Bellows. She, too, was gifted with 
 
134 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 all those qualities of mind and soul which give life and 
 happiness to the social circle, and ?;ontribute to ear- 
 nestness of thought and action. She married Rev. 
 Dr. Thomas Hill, at the time minister of the Unita- 
 rian church at Waltham, Mass., afterward President of 
 Harvard College. She filled her various responsible 
 positions, private and public, with that grace and dig- 
 nity which were given by conscious strength and a 
 high and well-defined purpose in life. She died in 
 1866, leaving five children, who all bear impress of her 
 who moulded their characters and gave them of her 
 own gifts. 
 
 Uncle Si's hospitable home witnessed one evening a 
 scene which very few houses can make record of : it 
 was the marriage by one service of three of his chil- 
 dren. They were William, the youngest son, whose 
 wife was Miss Sarah H. Giles, of Walpole, their only 
 son now living in Cincinnati ; Julia, whose husband 
 was Robert Barnett, of Boston; and Catherine, whom 
 we have before referred to, her husband being Judge 
 Bellows, of Concord, N.H. From but few houses 
 have gone out into the world as many children of the 
 home prepared by intelligence, education, and sound 
 principles to do the work of life. 
 
 Uncle Si was the youngest but one of Col. Benja- 
 min's children ; and there are yet many living in his 
 native town who distinctly remember him. It is not 
 very long since I heard some one remark that Uncle 
 Si had filled, and filled well, a very large space in the 
 community in which he lived. This was not only true 
 of his ample personal proportions, but he was a man 
 of great energy and great activity, and of the sound- 
 est judgment. His presence anywhere always seemed 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 135 
 
 to mean business, as he paid but few complimentary 
 visits. 
 
 I can distinctly remember with what regularity, 
 every Sunday in winter, Uncle Si's great double sleigh 
 might be seen packed to its utmost capacity, winding 
 its way up the long and tedious hill to the old meeting- 
 house. There was not a pew in the church more 
 amply filled ; the Sparhawk race, as well as the Bel- 
 lows race, was emphatically of the church-going sort. 
 I find myself often contrasting the present with the 
 past, when it was not unusual to see all the pews in 
 the church actually filled with parents and children ; 
 whereas we now see only one or two little ones, here 
 and there, looking like stray lambs. But it only re- 
 quires a look into the homes of our people, to under- 
 stand this change. Then we could often count from 
 six to a dozen, sitting round the family board ; and it 
 apparently required less care and expense to provide for 
 this number than for the one, two, or three, whom we 
 occasionally find in these degenerate days, with habits 
 of modern extravagance. We shall never again see 
 those large square pews, with the seats on hinges, so 
 that all the congregation could stand up in prayer- 
 time, while four or five little ones were anxiously wait- 
 ing for the amen, to turn the seats down again with 
 a bang ; and oh ! it was such a relief to us children to 
 get an opportunity to do something ! 
 
 But to return to Uncle Si. Dr. Bellows, in his 
 address, recalled the fact, that old Gen. Bradlee used to 
 tell of his recollections of once seeing Uncle Si and 
 Col. John's oldest son, while yet boys of sixteen, travel, 
 worn and weary, with their packs on their back, going 
 past his house in Westminster on their way up to the 
 
136 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 ferry that crossed the river on to the old Walpole 
 homestead. Hailing the boys, he found that they had 
 made their way on foot all the distance from New 
 Haven, whither they had been sent on horseback to 
 college. Impatient of the confinement and dull routine 
 of the place, yearning for the large freedom and excit- 
 ing life of their half-redeemed forest home, they had 
 run away from college, and were ready to face any 
 amount of domestic reproach rather than endure an 
 unnatural bondage. 
 
 In that same address, at the family gathering. Dr. 
 Bellows says of Uncle Si, the people at large respected 
 so much his integrity and his judgment, his plain good 
 sense, and his unpretending honesty, that he wielded 
 a wide and enviable influence. An excellent farmer, 
 his example and advice influenced the agriculture of 
 the place ; a good citizen, he always lent a generous 
 support to every public interest, — the church, the 
 school, and the administration of the town. That 
 name, "Uncle Si," was always the synonym of honesty, 
 firmness, judgment, and promptness ; of self-respect, 
 independence, and modest worth. 
 
 I vividly recall the eldest daughter of Uncle Si, 
 whose name was Louisa. She was the companion of 
 my mother's youngest sister, whose name was also 
 Louisa Bellows, and who usually passed the summer in 
 Walpole, the home of her childhood ; her permanent 
 home afterward, for many years, until her marriage, 
 being in Boston, with her oldest brother John. These 
 cousins were very intimate, passing much time together, 
 so long as my aunt remained here. 
 
 As I now see them, in that far off time, how different 
 they appear to me from the young ladies whom I meet 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 137 
 
 of the same age, at the present day ; they were, at that 
 time, about twenty years old. Perhaps it is because I 
 saw them as a child, being myself only about thirteen. 
 These two Louisas were both fine-looking; not hand- 
 some, as that word is generally interpreted, but their 
 faces beamed with intelligence and animation ; and 
 when they were in their merriest moods, so full of wit 
 and fun, and dear old grandmother would occasionally 
 indulge in a hearty laugh, I thought there could be no 
 better entertainment. 
 
 I wish I could describe one little scene, making it 
 as amusing as it truly was at the time ; but that would 
 require the actors themselves. 
 
 My uncle had invited a friend, a Mr. Gordon, to pass 
 a few weeks with him. He was a professional man of 
 some distinction, and very much a gentleman. I can 
 remember well his courtly and elegant manners, and 
 also that he was very fine-looking. He, too, was a 
 bachelor, as was my uncle, who endeavored to make 
 his visit as pleasant as possible, by inviting other 
 friends to dinner, or tea, every day. On this particular 
 day, our Cousin Louisa Bellows was invited to dinner, 
 and tea also ; and these two discreet young ladies, 
 the two Louisas, so noted for their observance of all 
 the proprieties, had somehow got on their high-heeled 
 shoes. They were both making a pretence of trying 
 to capture this stranger ; their badinage on the subject 
 was most amusing, for nobody could say brighter or 
 more witty things than they ; and Uncle Abel, who 
 deemed it indecorous to indulge in loud laughter, was 
 compelled to transgress his ideas on that point many 
 times that day, when he would exclaim, " Girls, girls, I 
 am astonished ! I shall not dare to take you to the 
 
138 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 table at dinner. You must be getting the control of 
 your risibles in season, for I cannot permit you to 
 compromise yourselves or myself, and I give you warn- 
 ing." All this was pure fun for me. My young eyes 
 and ears took it all in. I can remember with what in- 
 terest I watched the progress of the dinner, as all were 
 non-committal, — the girls meeting the remarks, as well 
 as the keen glances, of this handsome stranger, with 
 perfect self-possession. I thought my uncle rather en- 
 joyed the opportunity to show up this brilliant sister 
 and cousin of his, for they could acquit themselves 
 with graceful dignity anywhere. 
 
 There was an hour or more of very lively and amus- 
 ing conversation kept up after dinner, when Uncle 
 Abel proposed taking his friend to visit the Rocking 
 ham farm, returning to a late tea. When, however, he 
 noted the lateness of the hour after getting started, 
 he turned toward the Valley farm, which was only half 
 as long a drive. 
 
 When the coast was clear, to borrow a phrase, these 
 young ladies picked up the thread of their discourse, 
 which was dropped before dinner, and the contest be- 
 came warmer than ever. They accused each other of 
 practising all sorts of wiles to capture this unconscious 
 victim, growing more enthusiastic and excited. Cousin 
 Louisa hit upon something so perfectly absurd that 
 there seemed there was no retaliation, excepting a per- 
 sonal attack ; and the next moment her high-top shell 
 comb was out of her hair, letting the rich, beautiful 
 mass down over her back and shoulders ; the next 
 moment her opponent found herself in the same pre- 
 dicament, and while in this mock contest, with grand- 
 mother in a convulsion of laughter, the parlor door sud- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES I39 
 
 denly opened, and, to their horror, her brother walked 
 in with his friend : the girls retreated as best they 
 could, leaving poor grandmother, when she could suffi- 
 ciently compose herself, to explain that the girls were 
 having a game, which they occasionally indulged in, for 
 their own entertainment. The gentleman courteously 
 replied, that nothing would give him more pleasure 
 than to be allowed to join them in their next game. 
 But he never was initiated. 
 
 A few years later, this eldest daughter of Uncle 
 Si became the wife of Mr. John Hayward, of Boston, 
 a brother of the celebrated Dr. George Hayward, for 
 many years one of the leading physicians of the city. 
 She brought up, worthy of their ancestry, two sons and 
 one daughter, all of whom are now living, two of them 
 surrounded by children. The daughter, bearing the 
 family name Louisa, married Rev. C. T. Canfield, who 
 for a time was minister of the parish at Walpole ; the 
 same parish over which Rev. Pliny Dickinson had been 
 settled more than a half-century before, when he, too, 
 sought as his wife a descendant of the old colonel, the 
 daughter of Col. Caleb Bellows. 
 
 Uncle Si died at an earlier age (seventy-nine years) 
 than any of his brothers. He was thrown from his 
 carriage, and received injuries which proved fatal. 
 
 Let us now recall one of our great-grandfather's sons, 
 whose memory is still retained fresh even by some of 
 the present inhabitants of Walpole, and will be kept 
 green as long as there is one left in his native town 
 who knew him. 
 
 He was like his brothers, always distinguished by his 
 title, the townspeople speaking of him as the Squire, 
 and his relatives addressed him as Uncle Squire, or 
 
14° PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 Uncle Tom. He lived his whole life where he was 
 born, becoming singularly associated with everything 
 both public and private that belonged to the com- 
 munity in which he dwelt ; probably for the reason 
 that he took such a personal interest in all that was 
 going on, — nothing escaping his notice, no opportunity 
 lost when he could give a helping hand, or lend his 
 counsel or advice. 
 
 I can now vividly recall that strongly marked face, 
 so full of benevolence and kindness; also, his tall, 
 erect figure, driving in his strongly built old-fashioned 
 vehicle through our street, at a slow pace, and with a 
 loose rein ; giving a friendly nod to each person whom 
 he met ; stopping often to talk a minute with some 
 acquaintance. There was seemingly no one he had 
 not some business with ; but there was no hurry. His 
 horse took the same leisurely pace, which apparently 
 he had followed for years, evidently conscious of the 
 kindness and indulgence of his driver. 
 
 I can recollect, also, with what regularity the squire 
 always attended church, where he felt so much at 
 home ; he would always make himself comfortable in 
 his own way, during the long sermon : occasionally ris- 
 ing up, and resting his arms over the high top of his 
 great square pew, he would look over the congrega- 
 tion, apparently to see who were there, and who not, 
 yet giving assurance of his devout attention to the 
 sermon, when he had finished his paternal survey, 
 by turning his face up to the speaker in the two- 
 story pulpit with such a look of satisfaction and peace 
 with himself and all mankind as would make a pretty 
 good argument to even such theologians as sometimes 
 preached there against the old doctrine of total de- 
 pravity. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 14I 
 
 I ca'n also remember that his love for young society 
 was proverbial. After he was quite advanced in years, 
 for he lived to be very old, he would gather the young 
 people about him for a game of whist in the long win- 
 ter evenings, not infrequently ending with a supper, 
 which he knew so well how to provide for young appe- 
 tites, which never failed to do ample justice on these 
 occasions. 
 
 I have many times heard the remark, that our grand- 
 father showed his good judgment and penetration, by 
 selecting this son at such an early age to hold the 
 homestead, made sacred by the memory of so much 
 toil in founding it. He did not like to think that 
 those lovely and fertile meadows, stretching far and 
 wide along the bank of our beautiful river, should 
 be divided and subdivided, passing into the hands of 
 strangers, so long as the affairs of men could wisely 
 keep them as he had left them. 
 
 And our Uncle Squire, so true to all his trusts, 
 proved himself worthy of this also, until death re- 
 leased him from all earthly obligations ; when the 
 estate was transmitted to his son, bearing his own 
 name, and who still occupies the old ancestral house, 
 which is now standing in all the grandeur which only 
 the hand of time can impress upon these sacred treas- 
 ures of the past. 
 
 This old mansion is set back some distance from 
 the street, on the main road of travel from Walpole to 
 Bellows Falls, and a long line of magnificent elms and 
 maples stand in front, seemingly as gigantic sentinels, 
 to keep watch and ward, as long as there shall be any- 
 thing left to need their protection. 
 
 Uncle Squire held the ofiflce of High Sheriff of the 
 
142 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 County nearly, or quite, forty years. Perhaps no one 
 else ever did, or ever could, fill that office in the man- 
 ner he did, and still be retained in it such a succession 
 of years. He could not be accused of any omissions 
 in the performance of official duties, but he would 
 always find a way to be kind and humane to the poor 
 and unfortunate. I can never forget a scene in which 
 I was deeply interested, when I was perhaps fifteen 
 years old. There was a family by the name of Gard- 
 ner, who occupied many years the house which Mr. 
 William Buffum's family have owned for the last half 
 a century. He was a lawyer of some note, and was 
 sent from this district as a representative to Congress. 
 At this time, my uncle, Abel Bellows, was living in 
 the house now owned by Mrs. Titus ; which then stood, 
 before it was moved, on the main street, directly oppo- 
 site Mr. Gardner's, and so near that conversation could 
 be distinctly carried on between the houses. 
 
 Mrs. Gardner was a most genial and pleasant neigh- 
 bor ; she also had a sister residing with her, who was 
 very pretty, and quite a favorite with ray bachelor uncle. 
 During the winter preceding this eventful spring, the 
 family seemed encompassed with misfortune. She, or 
 her children, were ill all the time, and her husband 
 away in Washington, seemingly without any care for 
 them. I perfectly remember the devotion of my grand- 
 mother at this time, and how often I was called upon 
 to help her. I can also recollect many guarded conver- 
 sations concerning Mr. Gardner, which was all Greek 
 to me at that time. But the crisis came at last ; the 
 spring had arrived, but not Mr. Gardner : instead, a let- 
 ter was brought, followed by the sheriff. 
 
 I can never forget the distress and utter wretched- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 43 
 
 ness of that poor woman, and Uncle Squire's effort to 
 calm and comfort her. He had received orders to 
 attach and remove everything in her house, and all this 
 misery was brought upon her by a gambling debt. 
 The process, however, was staid in some way by Uncle 
 Squire, and I can never forget his denunciations of 
 that man, as he talked with my uncle that morning. 
 Mrs. Gardner was, in some unknown way, protected in 
 the possession of her home by a friend, whose name 
 was never given. 
 
 Another memory of him will always live with me ; 
 it was when the great sorrow of his life fell upon 
 him. Breakfast was hardly over, one morning, when 
 he came in to my Uncle Abel's so unlike his usual 
 way that my uncle hastily rose, and looked at him 
 searchingly. "Abel," he said, "your aunt has lost her 
 reason ; I cannot tell you what a terrible night I have 
 had !" And he seemed entirely exhausted with fatigue, 
 and overcome with grief. My grandmother and uncle 
 could not have been more surprised if he had come to 
 tell them of her death. They endeavored to comfort 
 him, by saying it could not be lasting ; that she must be 
 ill, and, when better, this aberration would pass away. 
 But he took a different view, seeming fully impressed 
 that her case was hopeless, which proved only too true. 
 I can well remember how deeply not only the friends, 
 but the whole community, were affected by this calam- 
 ity ; for her place could not well be filled in society, 
 and to her family, never ! The thought of placing her 
 in an asylum was not entertained for a moment. The 
 friends were ready to give all possible assistance, espe- 
 cially in caring for her through the long, weary nights ; 
 and it was peculiarly touching to hear them tell of 
 
144 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 Uncle Squire's great tenderness and indulgence in 
 managing her, — the same as he would a sick child. 
 After a time, she became quite passive, and would see 
 and converse with friends in her old way, which was 
 always most interesting ; for she had been highly culti- 
 vated, and was a person of great refinement and supe- 
 rior intelligence. She lived many years after this, an 
 object of the most devoted care and indulgence. Her 
 especial fear and dread of darkness occurs to me, and I 
 think it was twelve candles she always wished to have 
 kept burning through the night ; and I have no doubt 
 her wish was gratified. It was said, that, when her 
 husband left her remains on the day of her burial, in 
 the darkness of the tomb, he tearfully regretted that 
 he could not have left also some never-failing light 
 with her. 
 
 In the annals of our race, perhaps there could not 
 be found a better specimen of one possessing all the 
 virtues imputed to it than our Uncle Squire. His in- 
 tegrity, his benevolence, and kindness were proverbial. 
 There are many charming anecdotes still repeated of 
 him, that will live as long as his native hills remain 
 to cast their shadows over this beautiful valley. 
 
 Uncle Squire, as I have said, left the old homestead 
 to the care of his son, Thomas Bellows, and occupied 
 for many years the house nearer the centre of the vil- 
 lage, that his brother. Gen. Benjamin Bellows, left at 
 his death. This change brought him very near his two 
 daughters, — Mrs. Buff urn's beautiful home, but a short 
 distance above him ; and Mrs. Peck, nearly opposite, 
 across the street. There are now but few left who 
 used to know him ; but the pleasant memories that 
 cluster round his name are still cherished in this com- 
 munity. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 45 
 
 He was born, as I should have mentioned, in 1762, 
 the year the family homestead was erected, which he 
 finally inherited from his father, and to which I have 
 already referred. In the town records, in 1 791, he is 
 styled Lieut. Thomas ; and it is an evidence of his 
 early weight of character, that, notwithstanding his 
 well-remembered infirmity of speech, he was early ap- 
 pointed moderator in the town meetings, and was sent 
 as State Representative. In 1794, he was appointed 
 Counsellor to the Governor, for five years ; and, in 
 1799, was made High Sheriff of the county. Mean- 
 while, he had filled every sort of town office, and was 
 a most efficient citizen. As Gen. Bellows seemed to 
 take the old colonel's place, so, at his death, the sheriff 
 took his in the confidence and respect of the town. 
 
 Since writing this brief sketch of our good uncle, a 
 friend kindly reminded me of that incident in his life, 
 which illustrated his whole character too fully to allow 
 the story to be lost. 
 
 I can vividly recall, as a child, that frosty summer, 
 when the gardens and fields sparkled so often in the 
 morning sun, — not with dewdrops, but with frost and 
 ice ; and acres of corn and grain all through the coun- 
 try were cut off, and great apprehension was enter- 
 tained for the poor, so dependent were they in those 
 days upon the crop of corn. Speculators were active 
 all over the country, and sought this opportunity to 
 purchase, at any price, at which they could get it, all 
 the grain to be found held over from the preceding 
 year's crop. But they could not, at any price they 
 could offer, buy one bushel of the squire's corn, of 
 which he had several hundred bushels on hand. He 
 kept it all, and sold it to the poor people who came 
 
146 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 from points even fifty miles distant, charging the same 
 price as in years of plenty, or else giving it to them, 
 as he constantly did, without money ; and it was pro- 
 verbial of him, that he never made any one's necessity 
 his opportunity. 
 
 When this characteristic incident was told to Mr. 
 George B. Bartlett, he at once saw the beauty of the 
 sentiment expressed, and embodied it in a little poem, 
 which I copy : — 
 
 THE SQUIRE'S CORN. 
 
 " In the time of the sorrowful famine year, 
 When crops were scanty, and bread was dear. 
 The good squire's fertile and sheltered farm 
 In the valley nestled, secure from harm ; 
 For the Walpole hills, in their rugged might, 
 Softened the chill winds' deadly blight, 
 The sweet Connecticut's peaceful stream, 
 Reflecting the harvest's golden gleam. 
 And the buyers gathered, with eager greed. 
 To speculate on the poor man's need; 
 But the good squire said, ' 'Tis all in vain ; 
 No man with money can buy my grain : 
 But he who is hungry may come and take 
 An ample store for the giver's sake.' 
 The good old man to his rest has gone. 
 But his fame still shines in the golden corn ; 
 For every year, in its ripening grain. 
 This good old story is told again, 
 Of him whose treasure was laid away 
 In the banks that seven-fold interest pay ; 
 For to feed the hungry, and clothe the poor. 
 An investment is that's always sure." 
 
 When speaking of Col. Benjamin Bellows, the founder, 
 I should have referred to his personal appearance, and 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 47 
 
 manner, and education, and I will introduce it here. 
 This is what we are told of him. He was tall and 
 stout; his weight, in mature life, was three hundred 
 and thirty pounds. It is no small proof of the ex- 
 traordinary energy of his spirit, that, until within the 
 last few years of his life, this bulk did not encumber 
 his movements or repress in the least his activity. 
 Mounted on a strong sorrel horse, able to carry him 
 and his youngest son, Josiah, who rode behind, and 
 slipped off readily to take down the bars in his visits 
 to his various fields. Col. Bellows rode about his farm, 
 and directed the labor of his men. From him de- 
 scended, perhaps, our characteristic love of horses ; 
 and from him came the Herculean frames which sev- 
 eral of the next generation possessed. His great ami- 
 ability and true benevolence, with a natural suavity 
 and courtliness of manner, procured for him the title 
 of one of nature's noblemen ; honest, as he was ener- 
 getic, rare in judgment, of great self-possession under 
 trying emergencies, strong in mind as well as body, 
 unbounded in hospitality, and sagacious and prophetic 
 in plans, the old colonel united the qualities of his 
 well-known sons, the general and Col. John, and was 
 the large and pure fountain of his numerous and de- 
 cided race. 
 
 Col. Bellows manifested great discretion as a foun- 
 der, alike in the public spirit and liberality of his own 
 doings, and in the modesty and unobtrusiveness of his 
 conduct. There was nothing to overshadow or wound 
 the pride and independence of the early settlers, in his 
 bearing toward them. He showed, indeed, the same 
 kind of disposition to throw off upon others, as soon as 
 persons could be found to bear them, the honors and 
 
148 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 dignities of the town, as he did to make his children, 
 at the earliest moment, independent of him in respect 
 of worldly goods. There was no selfishness, no back- 
 wardness, in sharing with others his power or place, 
 while there was no ostentation of benevolence, no bust- 
 ling assertion of paternal authority, no claim to absorb 
 the influence or control of the town. 
 
 He was a man of good English education, for those 
 times. His early life evidently threw him into the 
 society of men of education and manners. The country, 
 at that period, contained many persons connected with 
 the army or government who brought the manners 
 and the education of the old country with them. Col. 
 Bellows, through his brothers-in-law, Rev. Mr. Stearns 
 and Col. Blanchard ; through the family of his mother, 
 the Willard's, and by his connection with the English 
 officers, as surveyor and purveyor for the army, had 
 formed manners of dignity, and of courtesy and au- 
 thority. And most of his children were marked by 
 a suavity and courtliness of manner, a carefulness and 
 nicety of dress, indicative of hereditary refinement. 
 Dr. Bellows, in his address, while giving this view of 
 the colonel, adds these words, " It is creditable to the 
 mental constitution of the family, that its hereditary 
 bias is toward intercourse with human beings, rather 
 than books ; that it seeks its knowledge at first sight, — 
 by observation, and not at second hand, — by reading ; 
 and this strong trait I suppose to be an honest inher- 
 itance from the old colonel." 
 
 And here, too, let me refer as I think I have omitted 
 to do, to the personal appearance of Gen. Benjamin. 
 The general was a dark-complexioned man, fully six 
 feet high. He carried himself with military erectness 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 149 
 
 and natural grace. Capt. Humphrey, of Portsmouth, 
 told Mr. Abel Bellows, that when in attendance at the 
 seat of Government as senator or counsellor, there was 
 always a rivalry among the different boarding-houses as 
 to who should entertain the general, so much was his 
 attractiveness valued, and so highly did he stand in the 
 good graces of the ladies. 
 
 He wore a cocked hat, small clothes, and a cane, and 
 was always nicely and carefully dressed. And here, 
 perhaps, as well as elsewhere, I may introduce what I 
 might have narrated, when speaking of Uncle Thod, 
 who inherited his father's immense size, weighing, as 
 he did, over three hundred pounds. It was generally 
 believed that Uncle Thod, with a strength proportioned 
 to his weight, was the leader and champion in the fa- 
 mous recapture of the town's cannon from the stalwart 
 men of Keene. And here is what is told about the 
 cannon. 
 
 It seems that each of the four forts on Connecticut 
 River had been supplied with large iron cannon, by his 
 Majesty the King of England. These cannon, remain- 
 ing, after our independence, in the several towns where 
 the forts had been, were prized as trophies, and used 
 for purposes of rejoicing on public days. The neigh- 
 boring towns became jealous of the gun-towns ; and, in 
 1807, some citizens of Keene, led by a young officer, 
 afterwards distinguished in the service of his country, 
 determined to repair to Walpole in the night, and steal 
 the cannon from its unguarded gun-house. This they 
 accomplished. The Walpolians indignantly protested, 
 and attempted to arrest the ringleader in the offence, 
 but in vain. They sought the aid of the law, but the 
 Court decided, that the said cannon was not the prop- 
 
15° PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 erty of the town, and the defendants were discharged. 
 Very much irritated, the Walpolians resolved on a re- 
 capture of their trophy. They had discovered that it 
 was concealed in a granary, in a back store, on the 
 south side of West Street. On the evening of the 4th 
 of July, 1809, a plot was laid to accomplish their pur- 
 pose. A stage-driver was sent to Keene in a huge 
 stage-wagon, under the pretence of buying grain, but 
 in reality to discover and arrange for the recapture. 
 He learned the place of its concealment, bargained for 
 his grain, and obtained possession of the key of the 
 place where it was stored, under the plea of taking in 
 his grain very early the next morning, without disturb- 
 ing the clerks. This done, he went a little way out of 
 town, and met in the dark a cavalcade of thirty Wal- 
 pole men, led by an officer of high militia rank, and 
 made his report. Tying their horses in the bushes, 
 they stole into town, made their way to the granary, 
 and, after desperate efforts, succeeded in lifting the can- 
 non into their wagon, and started off at a spanking pace 
 for Walpole. The noise of the rescue had, however, 
 aroused some of the people, who rang the town bell, 
 and raised the alarm. A large party of Keene men 
 mounted their horses, and started in hot pursuit ; but 
 luckily they took the wrong road, and thus, perhaps, a 
 perilous conflict was avoided. At break of day, the 
 Walpole band were welcomed by the ringing of the 
 village bell, and by the applause of a crowd of their 
 anxious townsmen, who had all night been awaiting 
 their return. This same cannon was afterwards stolen 
 by a party from Westminster, Vt., for use on the 4th 
 of July, and retaken by our citizens while in actual 
 service. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 And now that I am recalling what I might more fitly 
 have introduced when I first spoke of the old colonel's 
 children, let me say a word more about Aunt Richard- 
 son, — Abigail, by name. She lived, as I have men- 
 tioned, down to our own day ; and, old as she was, she 
 did not outlive her wit, her activity, her independence 
 of feeling. She was a gay and buoyant girl, full of 
 pranks and high spirits ; and many are the recollec- 
 tions of her practical jokes and witticisms. When a 
 girl, she possessed a beautiful saddle horse, her father's 
 gift, of which she was not a little proud. She had 
 trained her horse in such a way that, when patted on a 
 certain place in the neck, he grew suddenly restive, 
 and commenced rearing and prancing in a way to ex- 
 hibit her horsemanship to great advantage and with 
 little danger. When yet a young lady, she rode this 
 horse down to Lunenburg, on a visit to her brother 
 Joseph. While at his house, he buried an infant son, 
 and, on the occasion of the funeral, there proved to be 
 some lack of horses to carry all the party to the burial- 
 ground ; and a certain serving maid, one Sarah Anne, 
 at her brother's request, was placed behind Miss Abigail 
 on a pillion. She was not a little chagrined at finding 
 her favorite converted into a family nag, and her horse- 
 manship put at such disadvantage ; and, although un- 
 able to refuse at the moment the load assigned her, she 
 said, afterwards, " I knew I should never carry Sarah 
 
IS2 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 Anne, if the boy laid above ground all summer." She 
 rode, however, to the horse-block, and the maid mounted 
 behind her. The procession moved on, when suddenly 
 Miss Abigail's horse was seized with an unaccountable 
 restiveness, and reared and plunged until Sarah Anne 
 was thrown off. Miss Abigail returned very soberly 
 to the horse-block, and Sarah Anne, with her rumpled 
 feathers, was placed in her seat again. A second time 
 the procession started ; a second time the vicious beast 
 threw up his heels, and a second time Sarah Anne 
 came to the ground. The third experiment had the 
 same result, until Sarah Anne concluded to give up the 
 melancholy ride, and Miss Abigail achieved her some- 
 what misplaced and mischievous victory. 
 
 Her wit continued fresh through life. She had a 
 merry twinkle in her eye, even after it was dimmed 
 with age. Her energy was equal to her spirits. She 
 kept house to the last day of her long life, and only 
 resigned the keys when her breath was but a few hours 
 in her body. 
 
 My cousin, Frederick N. Knapp, has just been telling 
 me of the annual dinner, which, during their four college 
 years, Aunt Richardson used to give in vacation time 
 to these four grand-nephews, — himself, and brother, 
 and Herbert Bellows and Rowe Bellows, adding to 
 them Warren Giles, and one or two others who hap- 
 pened to be in college from Walpole at the same 
 time. The table was beautifully spread, and arranged 
 with great care and taste. She, though somewhere be- 
 tween seventy-five and eighty years old, presided at the 
 dinner with all the grace and life of a young woman of 
 thirty ; and, by her wit and wisdom, her entertaining 
 stories of incidents in her younger days in the old fort. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 53 
 
 her account of what the world was doing and thinking 
 about a half-century before that time, she made this 
 dinner most delightful. Never a mortal lived who 
 loved the society of young people more, or did more 
 to contribute to their pleasure. 
 
 I have also something now to add to what I have 
 said about Aunt Richardson's sister, Aunt Kinsley ; so 
 different as she was in many respects from Abigail ; I 
 give the estimate of one who knew her well, and who 
 was a judge of character. Aunt Kinsley, Mary Bellows, 
 the youngest daughter of the. old colonel, was a woman 
 of uncommon native power of intellect and force of will. 
 
 " She was cast in that mould of the female nature 
 which would have fitted her to be the wife of some 
 resolute old puritan, in the days when wives buckled on 
 their husband's swords, and bade them die, but not 
 dishonor their name and faith. Tall and commanding 
 in person, firm and original in her opinions ; of native 
 dignity and elevation, free from frivolous tastes or 
 feminine weaknesses, she carried self-respect with her 
 all her days, and secured the veneration, even more 
 than the love, of others. Those, however, more intim- 
 ately acquainted with her domestic life, speak grate- 
 fully of the depth of tenderness held in her heart, and 
 of the power she possessed to win the warm affec- 
 tions of others ; she was efficient in benevolence, from 
 principle and inclination. Possessing unusual business 
 capacity and large experience, she managed her affairs 
 with discretion, and was a helpmate indeed to her 
 husband, whose congressional life carried him much 
 away from home. She was not the ordinary type of 
 the Bellows race, which leans more to mercy than 
 justice, and is rather distinguished for the tender and 
 
154 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 humane than for the heroic and celestial graces : a 
 certain spontaneous sympathy, ready to burst out at 
 the sight of suffering or wrong, is natural to the race. 
 
 "Aunt Kinsley seemed to possess a mind accus- 
 tomed to weigh its conclusions very deliberately, gov- 
 ern its emotions, and regulate itself by a deliberate 
 principle. In her theology, too, she was an exception 
 to most of the race. She belonged to the sterner 
 school of religion, and did honor to her faith in her 
 practice. Our family would, perhaps, have done better 
 if a larger infusion of the element represented in Aunt 
 Kinsley's character had been poured into it." 
 
 Mrs. Kinsley, after the death of her husband, resided 
 chiefly in the family of her only child, Mrs. Gardner ; 
 but, after her grandchildren, early bereft of a most in- 
 teresting mother, ceased to need her care, she followed 
 the family instinct of her race, and repaired to Walpole 
 to end her days. 
 
 Here, in the society of her brother, the squire, and 
 with the charge of his household, she passed several 
 years of tranquil usefulness, forming a most important 
 element in her brother's happiness in his old age ; and 
 here, in the enjoyment of a firm religious faith, and 
 with a venerated memory, she closed her eyes. 
 
 Her grand-daughters, bearing the family names, Mary 
 and Charlotte, live gratefully to recall the inheritance 
 which they received in this strong and noble charac- 
 ter, bound in, as it is, to them with the memory of a 
 mother of rare tenderness and beauty of spirit. Their 
 only brother, Dr. Augustus Kinsley Gardner, died but 
 recently, after having made for himself an enviable 
 reputation as a physician and a friend. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 But to speak of some of another generation. It has 
 been observed in families of children, there is often 
 one wholly unlike the rest, both in looks and character- 
 istics ; and our grandmother's family was not an excep- 
 tion to this. In her large flock, numbering fourteen, 
 this one was found. This personage was no other than 
 our Uncle Salmon, the eldest of the family. He was 
 just himself, and no one else. In saying he was en- 
 tirely different from the rest, it is not to be inferred 
 that he did not possess as many virtues ; for it was 
 quite otherwise. Under that butternut colored coat, 
 hanging so loosely on his tall, gaunt figure, and which 
 was spun and woven, and probably cut and made, by 
 his wife's own hands, there beat a kind and honest 
 heart. 
 
 He had an intelligent mind, and be always possessed 
 too much self-respect to find any companionship in low 
 company. He held no communication with the world, 
 save what was necessary, in the pursuit of providing for 
 his small family. He was so entirely free, also, from 
 the common habit in those times, of using tobacco, and 
 the daily use of stimulants, that he was considered, by 
 some, almost a social outcast. He lived his own life 
 simply in his own way, perfectly contented if there was 
 a sufficiency for to-day : to-morrow surely would take 
 care of itself, as it always had done ; so there was very 
 little trouble in his household. His wife commenced 
 
156 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 life in this way with him, and had learned the lesson 
 of adaptation. Notwithstanding his many peculiari- 
 ties, he was thoroughly respected ; and not one of our 
 uncles stood higher in favor with the children than our 
 Uncle Salmon. 
 
 Perhaps it was his grotesque appearance that first in- 
 terested us, and then his quaint humor certainly amused 
 us ; and there was no one whom we saw approaching 
 that gave us greater delight, for surely somewhere in 
 those capacious pockets there must be a handful of 
 chestnuts or of candy, or a red apple, which we were 
 allowed to fish out for ourselves. 
 
 My earliest memory of him and our Aunt Lydia, his 
 wife, is when they lived at the ferry ; where, after his 
 own style of employment, he kept boats to take people 
 over the Connecticut River. He followed this humble 
 calling several years, as there was no bridge at that 
 time, though one was eventually built through the en- 
 terprise of Col. John, who was the general mover in all 
 public improvements. 
 
 I have heard Aunt Lydia relate many hairbreadth 
 escapes, while in the exercise of his river-craft. At 
 one time, there was a violent northeast storm, the 
 wind blowing a gale, when the stage from Boston, full 
 of passengers, came to be ferried over to Vermont. 
 
 He took the oars at the head of the boat, while a new 
 hand rowed at the stern. When they got into the cur- 
 rent, which was very strong, and some distance from 
 the opposite shore, they began to drift rapidly down 
 stream, while the wind threatened, at each gust, to 
 overturn the carriage. The passengers were in a great 
 fright, but Uncle Salmon, whose self-possession was 
 proverbial, assured them, if they kept quiet, he would 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 157 
 
 land them in safety. He then called upon a man to 
 assist at the oar, for he was himself getting exhausted ; 
 it was much harder rowing up-stream than floating 
 down. 
 
 Aunt Lydia stood on the river bank all this time, 
 watching the terrible, and, to her, uncertain struggle ; 
 she at last had the satisfaction of seeing them landed 
 at the proper place in safety, and then betook herself to 
 the house, and piled on the wood for a hot fire, ready for 
 him when he should come in, as he did after another 
 perilous pull on his return trip, wearing the same com- 
 posure as though nothing had happened, and making no 
 remark until she said, " You've had a terrific pull, Sal- 
 mon ! " To which he only answered, "Yes, kinder 
 tough ; but I cared more for those poor women ! They 
 had an awful scare, Liddy." 
 
 Another incident she used to relate, but I don't 
 think she voluntarily spoke of it. It was only when 
 we asked her to tell us about the man who was drowned, 
 that we heard it. As nearly as I can recall it, it was 
 this : My uncle never went from home to be gone 
 more than an hour, without leaving some one to take 
 his place at the boats. It was at the close of a hot 
 summer's day he set out on a walk to the village, which 
 was a mile distant, to procure at his brother Joseph's 
 store some articles for the family. 
 
 He was picking up his packages, when his brother 
 Thomas, who was then a clerk, went quickly to the door, 
 exclaiming, "What do I hear.'" In a moment more, as 
 they listened, there was a repetition, and Uncle Salmon 
 exclaimed, "Why! that's Liddy!" Through the clear, 
 still, evening air, her voice came ringing like a bell ; 
 and they all started for the river road, shouting as they 
 
I $8 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 ran, to let her know help was coming. She had has- 
 tened from the house, but had not gone more than a 
 quarter of a mile before giving the alarm ; and, though 
 so distant, her call of distress was heard. It seems 
 that a neighbor across the river, in his attempt to take 
 himself over, had in some way upset his boat when 
 near the shore, and was drowning. His piteous cries 
 for help, she used to say, would ring in her ears for- 
 ever. When the rescuing party reached the river, they 
 took the man from the water, but all efforts to restore 
 life were unavailing. 
 
 Aunt Lydia had many strong attractions for both 
 children and young people. She was the repository of 
 all the girls' love affairs, for she had a pack of cards in 
 which were written all their destinies ; and it was only 
 she who had the key to these magic characters. If 
 there was any love affair going on among the young 
 people in the neighborhood, it was she who was in the 
 council. It was very amusing to see how perfectly she 
 could adapt herself to the young folks of both sexes. 
 
 I can never forget a little story that was sometimes 
 told of my Aunt Louisa's young life, then fifteen or 
 sixteen years of age, and the youngest of the family. 
 There was, at that time, a young man employed in Mr. 
 Isaiah Thomas' bookstore, which then honored the town 
 of Walpole, where books were not only sold, but pub- 
 lished. It was from this press that Parson Fessenden's 
 " Science of Sanctity " was issued. This young clerk 
 became desperately in love with this dark-eyed beauty ; 
 and, while she seemed indifferent to his passion, there 
 was no open opposition. Here was just such a field as 
 Aunt Lydia liked for the exercise of her genius ; and, 
 not long after, it became known that through her influ- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 159 
 
 ence these young people met at her house. Uncle Sal- 
 mon, who always thought just as his wife did, saw no 
 objection to the young man ; but he always took a dif- 
 ferent view of all temporal things from his brothers ; 
 and the consequences in this case were, that Uncle 
 John banished his young sister to a school, which, as 
 distances were measured in those days, might be said 
 to be located in a foreign country, but, in reality, was 
 no farther off than New Ipswich, where the first acad- 
 emy in the State of New Hampshire was planted. 
 Well, what of the young man ? Why, being unable to 
 remain where disappointed hopes and a broken heart 
 were written upon everything, he suddenly left, seeking 
 a larger place in which to lose himself and his sorrow ! 
 Some years afterward, he was known in Boston as 
 one of the most marked journalists in that city, pos- 
 sessing not only wealth, but fame. I never knew if 
 he were married, but I know that their acquaintance 
 was never renewed, and Aunt Liddy's magic cards 
 were at fault. 
 
 When the bridge was built across the river, Uncle 
 Salmon's occupation was gone ; and the next available 
 business was farming. His brother, who owned a farm 
 in Langdon, placed him there to carry it on ; so this 
 faithful old boatman moved to this rural abode, where 
 he took his wife and his integrity, and but avery small 
 portion of anything else. 
 
 His oldest daughter was a teacher, and not often at 
 home. There was another, ten years of age ; she bore 
 the historic name of Matilda. She was named, as her 
 mother said, for Queen Matilda, the wife of William 
 the Conqueror. Aunt Lydia had a great respect for 
 that personage. I think it was my first real sorrow, 
 
l6o PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 when Aunt Lydia and Uncle Salmon went to this far 
 away home, ten miles off, leaving the little house on 
 the bank of the river; which, to my child-mind, was 
 nothing less than a fairy j^rotto in the Garden of I'^dcn. 
 I was then four or five years old, and I used to find my 
 greatest happiness in ruiininj^ away from school and 
 getting to this lovely place, where my Aunt Lydia and 
 Uncle Salmon lived; the surprise and tenderness with 
 which she took me in her arms, saying to my uncle, 
 "This child has strayed a mile from home to find us, 
 Salmon ! " Then supper was soon ready, and I ate my 
 corn cake, with maple syrup, on a bright pewter plate. 
 There were two rows of these plates on the shelves, 
 turned up against the wall, bright as polished silver. 
 A porringer of warm milk completed the repast, and 
 then the bed behind the curtain was turned down, and 
 I was put into the foot ; and the bliss of that night'.s 
 rest, in the foot of Aunt Lydia's bed, I have never for- 
 gotten. Meantime, Uncle Salmon would have gone and 
 reported me " all safe in bed," to my mother. 
 
 A few more years have rolled away, and we find these 
 excellent people still on the old farm, living their lives 
 in the same old way, looking, if possible, a little more 
 as if they had just left the garden of ivlen ; they had 
 not reached the time of the ark ! Dear old uncle's 
 clothes hang more loosely than ever about him, but 
 there was still the same charm for young people in his 
 kind and genial smile. When I was thirteen or four- 
 teen years old, there was no visit I was permitted to 
 make that I anticipated with so much pleasure as the 
 one to that humble home. 
 
 I always chose to make this visit in the winlcr, 
 usually extending from one day to the next, which gave 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES l6l 
 
 me one of those long winter evenings that Aunt Lydia 
 knew so well how to make bright and lovely. 
 
 Although the same old habits were strictly adhered 
 to, of providing for one day at a time, and, though 
 everybody knew he never had a woodpile to replenish 
 his fire from, there was no fear but that the proverbial 
 tree would be "snaked up" in time, and prepared for 
 the evening fire, which was made about four o'clock in 
 the afternoon. First, would be laid a huge back-log 
 in that fireplace, extending half-across the room ; then 
 another log, of a little smaller dimension ; next fol- 
 lowed a fore-stick from the next cut of the trunk of 
 the tree, not quite so big as the back log ; then the 
 small wood was piled on, as much as you please : all 
 this would be set ablaze by the hot coals and brands 
 that remained of the fire built the day before. 
 
 While this fire is making, the girl Matilda gets the 
 three-legged stand, with the spectacles and knitting, 
 and Aunt Lydia is ready to commence her duties of 
 hostess. If she has recently read an entertaining book, 
 she relates the whole of it to us in her own easy way ; 
 or it is some story from the " Arabian Nights " every 
 word of which she could repeat. If the stories gave 
 out too soon, she could sing such songs as are never 
 heard in these later generations. Dear old Aunt 
 Lyddy ! How little she thought, when pouring such 
 a stream of melody and pathos into my young ears, that 
 she was giving me something never to be forgotten, 
 and which would always be associated with her through 
 all these eighty years or more of my life. 
 
 I am tempted here, for the amusement of the young 
 readers of these pages, to give the first and last verse 
 of one song, which was my special favorite ; and I can 
 
1 62 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 assure them the mournful strain of the music was in 
 perfect keeping with the sentiment : — 
 
 " Oh ! Polly, Polly, my sweet creeter ! 
 Come and sit you down by me. 
 And relate to me the reason 
 Why I'm slighted so by thee ! 
 
 " Oh, take away that foolish fancy ! 
 That is what doth break my heart ; 
 If I should die, oh ! pretty Polly, 
 Think of me, when I depart." 
 
 Foolish, do you say it is for me to repeat this here ? Be 
 it so ; yet let it stand. It brings back to me days when 
 the fields were green, and bees were gathering honey 
 from the blossoms of clover. 
 
 Well, these kind and excellent people are nothing 
 but a memory now ! Their graves were made in the 
 far West, but we have heard that they deeply mourned 
 for the home they left, but were never able to return 
 to. Dear old Aunt Lydia and Uncle Salmon, with 
 whom are associated the sweetest and brightest mem- 
 ories of my childhood ! 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Our Uncle John, better known at that time as Uncle 
 Jack, was named for his uncle who was always distin- 
 guished as Col. John, his father's brother. He passed 
 many years of his early life in Walpole ; and it was 
 said he assumed the dignities of manhood long before 
 it was usually accorded to the youth of that period. 
 It is probable that circumstances helped to an early 
 development of character and practical ability. He 
 assumed, what it had certainly become necessary that 
 some one should take, the lead in this large family of 
 brothers and sisters, after they were deprived of the 
 wise guidance of their father. Our grandmother, when 
 speaking of him in after years, said his forethought 
 and good calculations at this period often surprised her. 
 Perhaps the early exercise of these faculties served to 
 strengthen the foundation upon which was built his 
 success as a merchant prince in Boston, some years 
 afterward. He did not embark in this business until 
 he was thoroughly prepared for it ; and then success in 
 all his enterprises soon gave him not only wealth, but 
 marked him as a man of great ability and good judg- 
 ment, and he was often called upon to fill public offices 
 in the city that were considered quite an honor. When 
 he was well-established in business, and found himself 
 able to provide such a home as he thought worthy 
 the lady he had chosen for a wife, he was married to 
 Miss Betsey Eames, of Sudbury, Mass. Tradition says, 
 
164 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 when he first saw her, she was in the kitchen ; where, 
 according to the wise custom with young ladies of 
 those days, she was assisting her mother in the duties 
 of the household. Her sleeves were rolled up, expos- 
 ing a pair of beautiful arms ; and she was standing 
 before a table, rolling pie-crust in such an expert man- 
 ner as quite assured him this was not a new business 
 to her, and that, whatever she undertook, she was in 
 earnest about it. He suddenly came to another con- 
 clusion also ; as he stood for a moment, with his eyes 
 riveted upon her ; he thought if she could look so be- 
 witchingly lovely in a long, checked apron, how superb 
 her tall, elegant figure must be when draped in silk 
 and satin ! He used to say, that he was indebted to 
 the business transaction, which that day took him to 
 the side door of that house instead of the front, for the 
 loveliest view he ever had of his wife ; but he was 
 always sure to say this in her presence. All who ever 
 saw Uncle John can never forget his playful humor, 
 which was ever cropping out. 
 
 I have a distinct recollection of the first time I ever 
 saw my Aunt Betsey. I could not have been five years 
 old, when my mother took me, one morning, to see her, 
 having heard of her arrival, in Walpole, the preceding 
 evening. I stood in the hall when she came down the 
 stairs with her train thrown carelessly over her arm, — 
 they were universally worn very long at that time. 
 But what is more distinctly impressed upon my mem- 
 ory is, that beautiful blue silk handkerchief, twisted 
 jauntily as a turban round her head, one end left to 
 hang down over the shoulder; and, through all the 
 years that have intervened, I have brought the memory 
 of that lovely turban, — the long end hanging so grace- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 165 
 
 fully, as did all else she wore. I have heard Aunt 
 Louisa say, that her sister Betsey would look more 
 dressed in a common print than most persons in the 
 richest toilet ; and it was very evident her husband was 
 exceedingly proud of her. But she died early, leaving 
 five childen ; the two youngest were twin boys, not a 
 year old, when this beautiful mother was called away. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Henry W. Bellows was one of these twin 
 boys, of whom we shall speak afterward. His twin 
 brother, Edward, chose the profession of law, and went 
 to Detroit, Mich., to commence practice ; but he soon 
 came to a sudden death, overcome by fatigue, as he 
 was making a two days' foot journey through the woods 
 on professional duty to a distant court-house. But of 
 him I shall speak again. 
 
 The eldest son, John Nelson Bellows, for many years 
 a successful teacher in different institutions, and a 
 brilliant magazine writer, afterward chose the ministry 
 as his profession, in which he continued until his death. 
 He was a scholar by nature, a ready and graceful writer, 
 a fluent speaker, of great originaHty of thought and of 
 expression, quick in his perception, tender and respon- 
 sive in his sympathies, subtle and acute in his dis- 
 crimination. While he was profoundly interested in 
 philosophical investigations, he took the deepest inter- 
 est in all matters of social reform and philanthropy. 
 His constant theme was the practical application of 
 Christianity to the work of relieving and educating the 
 poor and ignorant, and elevating the laboring classes. 
 His enjoyment of social life was keen, and his contri- 
 butions of both wit and wisdom were always acknowl- 
 edged and sought for. Of a poetic vein and intensely 
 nervous temperament, his mind seemed never to rest ; 
 
l66 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 and, no matter how frequently you met him, you were 
 sure to find in his conversation something fresh and 
 worth listening to. He died many years before his 
 brother Henry, who always insisted that John was 
 superior to himself in intellectual ability and versatility 
 of genius. Early in life he had married, in Coppers- 
 town, N.Y., the wife who long blessed his home, and 
 who survives him, holding still in Walpole, in the beau- 
 tiful cottage on the bank of the ravine, close to the old 
 Caleb Bellows' place, a welcoming home for her sons 
 and daughters. One of these daughters married a son 
 of Dr. Bellows Robeson, of whom I have spoken, — he, 
 the son of Aunt Susan Robeson, whom we all so loved 
 and reverenced ; one of these sons married a daughter 
 of Mrs. Allen, — she, the youngest sister of Dr. Henry 
 Bellows, — thus bound by double bonds. 
 
 Hamilton, the second son, had also marked ability, 
 and a most genial and delightful nature. Who that ever 
 saw him can forget his marvellous powers of conversa- 
 tion, and his inexhaustible fund of anecdote .'' His rich 
 and varied tones of voice, as he sang his favorite songs, 
 both of mirth and of pathos, still sound in our ears. 
 But he died in the prime of his manhood. His widow 
 survives him, continuing in her kindly services of charity 
 and mercy in connection with agencies for helping the 
 poor and ignorant in New York City. The eldest 
 daughter of Uncle John, Mary Ann, died early ; while 
 the second sister, known and loved throughout the 
 whole family circle as Cousin Eliza, lived till within a 
 few years. As I shall have occasion to speak of her 
 by and by in another connection, I will only say here, 
 wherever she went, she carried life and cheer by her 
 originality and brightness of thought, her keen wit, and 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 67 
 
 genial sympathies. She married Joseph G. Dorr, of 
 Boston, and though living for many years in South 
 America, where her husband was engaged in mercan- 
 tile business, they both came back to Walpole, to spend 
 in quiet their remaining years ; and here they died 
 and were buried, and by their side have been laid one 
 by one all their children, the last who followed them 
 being their only daughter, Harriet Bellows, who mar- 
 ried Henry G. Wheelock, of New York, he being a 
 grandson of Uncle Si Bellows. She was one who, 
 with her sweet and winning ways, ever made friends ; 
 she scattered sunshine all along her pathway, which, 
 alas ! was too short for all of us who knew and loved 
 her. 
 
 It was not until some years after the death of Uncle 
 John's wife, and when his youngest sister Louisa, who 
 had made her home with him since his marriage, was 
 preparing for a home of her own, that he gave a thought 
 to providing another mother for his children. 
 
 His second choice proved his wise discrimination, 
 and the good fortune which seemed always to attend 
 him; for he brought to his home one of the three cel- 
 ebrated Misses Langdon, who had long been known in 
 their own circle as the three beautiful sisters. And, 
 if they were all as lovely as our Aunt Anne, they 
 certainly merited this appellation. Nothing could 
 exceed her winning gentleness in this family ; and, as 
 the children were all young, they must have soon for- 
 gotten in her loving tenderness that she was not their 
 own mother. There were three sons and two daugh- 
 ters by this second marriage. The eldest, Francis, a 
 devoted son, brother, and friend, was a merchant in 
 New York, and died some years ago. The youngest 
 
1 68 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 son, George, is a lawyer in Chicago. The youngest 
 daughter, Harriet, married Mr. William Allen, who for 
 years was the devoted and efficient parishioner and co- 
 adjutor of Rev. Dr. Bellows in his New York ministry 
 of love and philanthropy. Mrs. Allen and her brother 
 are the only two who now survive in this family of 
 eleven children. 
 
 Uncle John proved himself no exception to the old 
 saying, that all the Bellows came home to die. When 
 his business life ended, he naturally turned to the old 
 home of his race, where so many of them are already 
 sleeping; and while these hills and valleys remain, and 
 our beautiful river flows silently on, may our kindred 
 seek this sacred spot for their last repose ! On moving 
 from Boston to Walpole, our uncle built a handsome 
 residence, with a view commanding river and valley, and 
 enjoyed several years of quiet country life, with his last 
 gentle and loving companion and her four children, 
 together with those of older birth, who always found 
 there such a beautiful place of joy and refreshment. 
 
 How vividly I can recall that rather short, but stout 
 figure, in his carefully arranged costume, as he almost 
 daily came plodding up the steep hill that led to his 
 sister Louisa's house, — she who had been, in former 
 times, for many years an inmate of his own household, 
 and even as a mother to his eldest children ! These 
 morning visits were made most enjoyable by the vivacity 
 of her conversation, calling out volleys of wit from her 
 brother. He was full of playful humor, and the quick- 
 ness and smartness of his repartees were proverbial 
 wherever he was known ; and he imparted in no small 
 measure his remarkable characteristics to his children. 
 
 We, who have known the Rev. Dr. Bellows of New 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 69 
 
 York, and seen him in his freer moods, will readily 
 admit that he received his full share. 
 
 It is now nearly half a century since this uncle, of 
 whom we have so many pleasant memories, was laid 
 away with his kindred, while I am left to relate these 
 few passages in a life so fraught with energy, and that 
 achieved such honorable success. 
 
 Since writing what I have of Uncle John, I find in 
 the appendix of the book, which gives the account of 
 the family gathering, a notice of him, which I insert 
 here. "Born in 1768, at Lunenburg, and dying at 
 Walpole, February, 1840, his life was one of extra- 
 ordinary enterprise and success. 
 
 "Fitted for college, but disappointed in going by the 
 sudden misfortune of his father, he started out for him- 
 self at seventeen, and, by great activity, accumulated 
 the means of leaving Walpole and trying his fortunes 
 at Boston. Here he soon rose to be the head of an 
 importing house in a few years (Bellows, Cordis, & Co.), 
 and retired from business at fifty years of age, with an 
 ample fortune. The next ten years he devoted himself, 
 as an alderman of the city, to the public interests, with 
 an almost unparalleled zeal, superintending the erection 
 of many of the most important public edifices, and aid- 
 ing, as his right hand, the labors of that peerless mayor, 
 Josiah Quincy, Sen. The crisis in manufactures largely 
 impaired his fortunes, in 1830; and he made great 
 sacrifices to relieve himself of indebtedness, retiring 
 with a comfortable estate to Walpole, N.H., where he 
 passed ten quiet years, and died, Feb. 10, 1840, aged 
 seventy-two. He was a man of superior intellect, gen- 
 erous sentiments, and spotless integrity. Lavish in 
 the education of his children, stern in his family gov- 
 
lyo PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 ernment, proud and modest, tender at heart, but ashamed 
 of his sensibility, full of public spirit, unsurpassed in 
 sharpness of wit and readiness of repartee, dignified 
 and scrupulous in his costume and manners, elegant in 
 the neatness of his style and his handwriting, admir- 
 able as a letter-writer, an excellent talker, fond of spec- 
 ulation and argument, a keen man of business, a philos- 
 opher in his sorrows and disappointments, though easily 
 annoyed by trifles, John Bellows deserves this tribute 
 of affectionate respect from his kindred, and the grate- 
 ful remembrance of his fellow-citizens." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Those who were present at the large gathering of 
 the descendants of Col. Benjamin Bellows, in 1854, 
 will perhaps remember a venerable old gentleman, way 
 into the eighties, sitting in their midst with a bright, 
 red cap on his head, looking much like a mandarin. 
 Notwithstanding his great age, he had come all the 
 way from Canada, to see, as he said, "what kind of 
 people represented, at that period, those who once 
 owned and occupied this sacred soil." He was the 
 only one in all that throng, who had seen, and dis- 
 tinctly remembered, this ancestor, to whose memory 
 they were paying that tribute of respect. 
 
 This personage, to whom I have referred, was our 
 Uncle Ben. He was always spoken of by this abbrevi- 
 ation of Benjamin, which was his Christian name. His 
 long residence in Canada, where he took his family 
 when the fourth generation were just entering upon 
 the stage of life, made him comparatively a stranger 
 here, as his visits to the home of his childhood were 
 few and far between. But his children did not all 
 remain in Canada ; I believe there were ten of them. 
 Yet, wherever they have been, they have maintained 
 the sturdy characteristics of their ancestors, and trans- 
 mitted them to another generation, now on the stage. 
 
 I have some recollections of him, which were gath- 
 ered in early life ; one was his passionate love of music. 
 He would often seek my mother with his singing-book 
 
172 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 under his arm, wishing her to join him, for more than 
 the hundredth time perhaps, in singing the old an- 
 thems, of which he could never tire. In those days, 
 there was but little new music written. The old tunes 
 were so good, they could never wear out ; the more 
 they were heard, the better they were liked. I recol- 
 lect, too, his winning gentleness of manner, doubly im- 
 pressive as connected with his tall, erect figure. He 
 had not that fluency of expression so natural to many 
 of his race, but whatever he had to say was given 
 slowly and in the most simple language. 
 
 His habit of mind was akin to the manly vigor of 
 his body; and, as to that, take this fact as an illustra- 
 tion : An extensive and thorough farmer, to make sure 
 that the work was well done, he made it a rule always 
 to sow his fields of grain himself. And that very 
 season, when we had the family gathering, though he 
 was then, as I have said, way into the eighties, he had 
 sown with his own hand between ninety and a hundred 
 acres of grain. Think of the travel back and forth, 
 back and forth, over that immense tract, — that long, 
 strong arm of his scattering broadcast the seed, while 
 the locks whitened by so many winters were streaming 
 behind him, his face set on thoroughness and duty ! 
 
 Of his children, one of the eldest sons, who bore 
 the family name of John, went to Canada, where, being 
 successful in business, he planted himself, and thus in- 
 duced his father with his family to move there. One 
 of the daughters married Charles Towle, a Justice of 
 the Peace, a leading citizen, and a man of high tone 
 and character. His son, Charles Edward Towle, a 
 civil engineer, still lives in Canada, at Lenoxville, where 
 his sister also resides. John Bellows, son of Uncle 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 173 
 
 Ben, left an only daughter, Harriet, who married Rev. 
 Mr. Scarfe, the Episcopal clergyman at Lenoxville. 
 Another one of our Canada cousins married Mr. Charles 
 Pennoyer, a man substantial in his means and his char- 
 acter. The son of still another of this family of cousins 
 is John Butterfield, of Chicago, whose reputation as 
 an inventor is so well established ; and it was a great 
 service that he rendered when he invented, as he did, 
 what is reckoned the best stamp-mill out, for crushing 
 gold quartz. Two of Uncle Ben's sons inherited their 
 father's handsome proportions. One held a commis- 
 sion as an officer in our civil war, and was noted for his 
 splendid personality. His brother was better known 
 by his kindred, because his home was in the vicinity of 
 Walpole. He was a iine specimen of manhood, in his 
 palmy days A short drive would take us to a pretty 
 brown cottage, where we were sure to meet with a most 
 cordial and affectionate welcome. The native kindness 
 and hospitality of these friends were imparted in no 
 small measure to their children. 
 
 Two daughters, with whom I have had the privilege 
 and pleasure of a more particular acquaintance within 
 the last few years, have a place with the most re- 
 markable examples of these two leading family char- 
 acteristics. It is but recently the mother was laid 
 tenderly away, the father having gone many years 
 before. And now, with tearful remembrances of her 
 loving sympathy and tender ministrations, — she whose 
 gentle hands could never weary in doing good, — I have 
 to record the death of the eldest daughter. She has 
 left all too soon that bright and loving circle and beau- 
 tiful home, but the fragrance of her dear presence must 
 forever remain there. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 When our grandmother left the meadow farm, where 
 so many of her boys found occupation until they could 
 do better for themselves, our Uncle Abel was em- 
 ployed by his uncle. Gen. Bellows, in the Register of 
 Deeds Office. He remained there a few years until 
 he had acquired sufficient capital to start himself in 
 the mercantile business. I heard him relate this part 
 of his early history, one evening, to a friend, with 
 whom he had some interest in the Northwestern Fur 
 Company ; and it sets before us, in a way we can 
 realize, the difference between those days and the 
 present in the matter of business facilities. 
 
 He said his brother John, who was then a successful 
 merchant in Boston, first suggested the idea of his 
 establishing himself in Montreal. Frequent communi- 
 cation between the brothers became necessary, either 
 by letter or personally ; and, when the latter, the 
 journey was sometimes made at risk of their lives in 
 crossing Lake Champlain at times when the ice had 
 become very uncertain. 
 
 As Uncle John was a wholesale dealer in dry goods," 
 it is probable he furnished the materials for this enter- 
 prise. The goods were to be taken on wheels or 
 runners over this long distance, such being the only 
 mode of transportation by land at that period. Uncle 
 Abel took two loads of goods to Canada, driving one 
 of them himself. Here he would explain, that he was 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 75 
 
 neither a born nor bred teamster, quite an unnecessary 
 assertion, as we follow him and his disasters over the 
 long, weary distance that lies between New Hampshire 
 and Montreal. 
 
 He said the final arrangements were at length com- 
 pleted, and nothing remained but to receive the last 
 parting words from the family, so full of tender interest 
 and apprehension ; and the last hand-shakes were given 
 by acquaintances and their God bless you ! The next 
 moment we were on our way to that far-off country, so 
 little known to the people who dwelt in the States. 
 We now know as much of the Chinese as was generally 
 known of the Canadians, at that period. 
 
 Well, he went on, a deep snow had fallen the preced- 
 ing day, which did not facilitate our progress ; but, 
 struggling on, we left Bellows Falls a few miles behind, 
 when we approached a place called " Horse Heaven." 
 This place was no other than a deep ravine on one side 
 of the road, with little or no protection to prevent man 
 or beast from rolling to the bottom of the apparently 
 fathomless abyss. We had gone but a short distance 
 on this heavenward way, when we saw a team loaded 
 with wood approaching. As the depth of snow ren- 
 dered turning out a very difficult operation, my inex- 
 perience in such dilemmas made the task somewhat 
 appalling, especially as it was evident the burly team- 
 ster was bound to have more than his share of the 
 road ; the consequences were, I found myself and a 
 portion of my merchandise making a hasty descent, 
 and it was only by their great activity, and their know- 
 ing how to do it, that the horses saved themselves from 
 following me. The trees and bushes happily rescued 
 me from reaching the bottom ; and it was no easy task 
 
176 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 for my man to fish me up again with my packages, out 
 of this perilous depth. I had many more adventures 
 before reaching the desired haven, where my partner, 
 Mr. Gates, was awaiting my arrival. 
 
 It was about 1804, when Uncle Abel went to Mon- 
 treal, and he remained there until near the time when 
 peace was declared, after the war of 18 12. This war 
 increased their facilities greatly for making money ; 
 and a handsome fortune was quickly amassed, but at 
 a fearful sacrifice of health to our uncle. He was com- 
 pelled to return home before the close of the war, re- 
 linquishing all business, which he was never able to 
 resume again. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 At this time, Uncle Joseph had given up the busi- 
 ness he had followed for many years, and Uncle 
 Thomas, his youngest brother, took his place in the 
 store, and Uncle Jo went to the Rockingham farm, 
 which was jointly owned then by himself and his brother 
 Abel. Whoever has seen this lovely meadow, stretch- 
 ing along the western bank of the Connecticut River, 
 nearly or quite two miles, and especially when covered 
 with corn and waving grain, all laid out with precision 
 in squares, each square comprising several acres, can 
 never forget the beauty it presented. This farm was 
 one of the family possessions for nearly a century. 
 
 When Uncle Joseph took his family to the farm, he 
 left grandmother and Aunt Susan, as his brother Abel 
 needed all their care ; and thus his bachelor home was 
 established, our grandmother dispensing the honors for 
 some years. 
 
 At this time. Aunt Susan was engaged to Major 
 Robeson, of Fitzwilliam. He was a merchant, having 
 acquired considerable wealth. He was also a widower 
 with four children. He was a man remarkable for 
 energy ; it was apparent in all his movements. That 
 was a superior quality in her estimation, and she would 
 say a man without it could have no attractions for her ; 
 and, she would add, " When I see a man, at work, start 
 for his dinner at the first summons, taking his coat, and 
 putting it on as he walks rapidly along, I know that 
 
178 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 man will get a living, only he must return to his work 
 just as promptly, taking his coat off before he gets 
 there." They were married in a few months after her 
 brother Joseph left. All the incidents of that morning 
 of the wedding are as fresh in my mind as though it 
 happened yesterday. 
 
 It was in March, 18 14, and a deep snow had fallen, 
 accompanied by a furious blow, drifting the roads so 
 badly that traveling far from home was not attempted. 
 And this explained, to my mind, why a gentleman, who 
 had often come on Saturday and returned home on 
 Monday, didn't go as usual ; he was, to my thought, 
 only one of our many frequent guests. There were 
 some other circumstances, however, not so easily inter- 
 preted ; but, as I was taught that children should never 
 ask questions, I remained silent, keeping my eyes and 
 ears open, as I watched the unusual preparations going 
 on, now and then looking into Becky's quizzical face, as 
 she sat beating the yolks of ten eggs, while my grand- 
 mother beat the whites on a large flat dish. I watched 
 Aunt Susan with much curiosity as she separated them ; 
 and it required no little restraint not to ask grand- 
 mother why she didn't beat them together, as she 
 usually did for custards. Aunt Susan directed all the 
 different operations with her usual air of authority, say- 
 ing she should not put her fingers to it, as that was 
 always a bad sign. That remark was a greater puzzle 
 than all the rest, and I gave it up. 
 
 Tuesday morning dawned brightly, and the circum- 
 stance was significantly talked over at the early break- 
 fast ; after which, Cyrus, the colored man, opened the 
 north parlor door, where, to my surprise, I saw a bright 
 fire blazing on the hearth. We didn't use this room in 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 79 
 
 winter, excepting on great occasions. As the gentle- 
 man passed into the room, I heard my uncle order 
 Cyrus to harness the horses at ten o'clock. After giv- 
 ing a few preliminary orders to Becky, Aunt Susan 
 took me up-stairs, and told me to put on my best frock ; 
 she was going to be married, and going home with Maj. 
 Robeson. I could not have been more amazed, if she 
 had told me it was to be her own funeral, and that she 
 was going to the burying-ground. I have often thought 
 how differently such affairs were conducted at that 
 time from the present, always in the strictest privacy. 
 It was too sacred a subject to be made the theme of 
 common conversation, and the sentiment was honored 
 by perfect silence. At any rate, this was the way with 
 our Aunt Susan ; and, in later years, I have heard her 
 say, "A wedding was quite as solemn as a funeral." 
 
 Precisely at ten o'clock, Cyrus was sent to bring 
 Cousins Maria and Harriet, Col. John's daughters. 
 They were the only friends invited to join the house- 
 hold in witnessing the ceremony. In a short time, Mr. 
 Dickinson was shown in, and, silently bowing, took his 
 seat. I was too young to know then, but I have known 
 since, that he came that morning to give away to 
 another the one he had himself long sought, and would 
 have given much to win for himself. After he had de- 
 clared the twain made one, when taking her hand to 
 give her her new name, there was such a long hesita- 
 tion and apparent struggle on his part as to arrest the 
 attention of all present ; but a few moments, and he 
 regained his self-control, and spoke calmly and clearly 
 her name, with his congratulations. 
 
 Uncle Abel then came quickly to grandmother, and 
 took her into the sitting-room, as he saw she was quite 
 
150 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 overcome. He then said, in a low tone, " I declare, 
 mother, I think it was cruel for us to ask this service 
 of Dickinson." And grandmother replied, " I think it 
 was ; but our regrets are useless now ; we should have 
 thought of this before." 
 
 As Aunt Susan was married in a cloth habit, she 
 was soon arrayed for her departure. Then, to our sur- 
 prise, we saw for the first time what had long been con- 
 cealed for this occasion, — a handsome blue cloak, with 
 a cape cut with deep points, bound with lemon-colored 
 ribbon, and a " repped " silk bonnet of the same color, 
 with two long white plumes. How clearly I can recall 
 that figure bending over her mother as she stood, 
 taking her leave ! Then followed her good-by to all, 
 and she was on her way. I ran to the window in time 
 to see those long plumes waving their last adieus, as 
 they were lifted by the breeze, when turning the cor- 
 ner, where they disappeared from view. 
 
 When I turned from the last look after my Aunt 
 Susan, Uncle Abel was saying, "I don't know how 
 we can get along, mother; there is no one to fill her 
 place." She returned some comforting words ; but 
 they proved quite inadequate to dispel the gloom and 
 loneliness that pervaded the house through all that long 
 and weary day. When evening came, quite a number 
 of the friends called; Cousin Si was one, and Mrs. 
 Gardner another. Those two personages could never 
 be easily forgotten. She had been a brilliant star in 
 Walpole society, but was always spoken of as one of 
 Susan Bellows' satellites, — the last-named being the 
 planet of greater magnitude. This was when they 
 were girls. 
 
 The next day Uncle Abel brought a very tall young 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES l8l 
 
 gentleman in to dinner, introducing him as Dr. Morse. 
 The after-dinner conversation revealed the fact that he 
 had been invited by my uncle to make his home there 
 for an indefinite time. This proved to be not only 
 a pleasant, but a beneficial arrangement. The young 
 doctor made himself very agreeable company, securing 
 at once confidence in his professional skill. He came 
 to Walpole accredited by old Dr. Twitchell, of Keene, 
 with whom he had studied after graduating from col- 
 lege ; and a recommendation from Dr. Twitchell was 
 the surest possible passport to public favor. 
 
 It was soon apparent that Uncle Abel was better ; 
 he had followed the doctor's humorous advice, to lay 
 his pills and powders on the shelf, where the prover- 
 bial old woman put hers, when she wanted to get the 
 best possible effect from them. This was strictly ad- 
 hered to, while another course of treatment was pur- 
 sued. The young doctor's lively conversation and wit, 
 which was always ready ; and his great love of music, 
 in which he indulged at every leisure moment, kept 
 the house pretty lively. It was found by my dyspeptic 
 uncle to be more pleasant to listen to the sweet strains 
 of the violin, and the grand tones of the bass-viol, than 
 to sit moodily contemplating the process of digestion 
 after a hearty dinner. And so our uncle gradually 
 mended his ways ; coming back in process of time to 
 comparatively a new life, under the new doctor's wise 
 instructions. 
 
 In the early springtime, another pleasant acquisition 
 was made to the little home circle in the person of my 
 uncle's youngest sister, whose advent always imparted 
 abundant cheerfulness and animation. There was little 
 time, now, for the indulgence of dyspepsia, or any other 
 
l82 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 form of evil that usually awaits people who have noth- 
 ing to do. Great merriment reigned at the table, par- 
 ticularly at the dinner hour, when a constant fusilade 
 was kept up between the doctor and Aunt Louisa, 
 whose quick and bright repartees the doctor seemed 
 greatly to enjoy; and I perfectly remember there were 
 times when I thought my uncle was very proud of his 
 young sister. 
 
 Aunt Susan's first visit home, after her marriage, 
 occurred in July, — when she came in, one day, so unex- 
 pectedly, the household was in a state of great com- 
 motion. Great joy was expressed on seeing again one 
 who had not only been the controlling spirit, but had 
 given so much brightness to the old home for such a 
 length of time. 
 
 The news of her presence seemed to be transmitted 
 on wings through the entire village ; and there was 
 such a gathering of friends, after tea, as had not been 
 seen since that forlorn evening after her departure. 
 The house was filled ; such was the welcoming in those 
 old times. I recall another incident. Before Aunt 
 Susan returned, it had been arranged that grandmother 
 should make a visit to Fitzwilliam, in August, and, if 
 she made the journey in the stage, I was to accompany 
 her; but a friend took her by a private conveyance. 
 Perhaps this little disappointment, of not riding on 
 the top of a stage over those great hills, thirty miles, 
 served to fix the circumstances in my mind. 
 
 It was quite an event for her to take a journey, and 
 all the household were much interested in the prepa- 
 rations. I can see, at this moment, how nice the dear 
 old lady looked, as she tied on her new black silk bon- 
 net, made after the fashion of that time, — called a 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 183 
 
 cottage bonnet, coming close to the face ; and I gazed 
 at her, and thought how lovely she looked with her 
 double-cap border, so beautifully crimped, pressed 
 closely to her cheeks ; and at the last moment, as she 
 found she had not got her spectacles in her pocket, I 
 was sent to find them for her. When the last good- 
 bys were said, and the carriage was turning away from 
 the door, Becky, who had been watching from the 
 kitchen window, pulled off her moccasin which she 
 had been wearing instead of a shoe, on account of a 
 lame foot, and threw it after them. The young doctor 
 caught a glimpse of it, and said to her, " Didn't you 
 know it was an ill-omen to throw a moccasin } It is 
 only an old shoe that can positively secure good luck." 
 At which she looked down to her feet in utter dismay, 
 and exclaimed, "Oh, jiminy! I took the wrong foot ! " 
 
 There was one little episode in the domestic depart- 
 ment, during grandmother's absence, I can never for- 
 get. While Becky was off, one afternoon, I was pro- 
 moted to the dignity of getting tea; I considered it 
 highly complimentary, and felt myself equal to any- 
 thing that might be proposed. 
 
 The cream biscuit that Becky often made, and which 
 were enjoyed so much, flashed upon my mind ; and I 
 determined to make some that would cast all other bis- 
 cuits quite into the shade. It was only a question of 
 getting leave to do so, to show my skill ; and, when I 
 made the proposition, my aunt looked at me so quizzi- 
 cally, I was in great fear she was about to throw cold 
 water upon my enthusiasm ; but, when she noticed how 
 eager I was, she consented, promising not to interfere ; 
 and, when I had things all my own way, no one could 
 be more sure of success. I first thought over the 
 
184 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 whole process, as I had seen Becky make them, — the 
 quantity of cream, the soda, and salt. 
 
 While stirring these ingredients into the flour, it oc- 
 curred to me, that unless I put something in that Becky 
 did not, they could not be any different ; and I wished 
 to have them very much better than hers. And, as 
 the question arose what I should add, the lovely flavor 
 of my aunt's pound cake came to my mind ; and, if 
 rose-water could make that so delicious, why should it 
 not be just as nice in cream biscuit.' So I turned a 
 generous portion into the mixture, entirely satisfied 
 with my new discovery. When, at last, I brought 
 them to the table, so nicely baked, there were cordial 
 words of commendation at their attractive appearance ; 
 and the young doctor, taking his seat, observed that 
 the agreeable odor of the tea-table reminded him of a 
 bouquet of roses. At this, my aunt took a biscuit, and, 
 opening it, turned to me, saying, " Why ! what have 
 you put in here ? " I meekly replied, " A little rose- 
 water," and made my escape in the midst of a peal of 
 laughter. 
 
 Those who have ever known our good old doctor, 
 who came here as I have already stated when a young 
 physician, and lived the rest of his long life in our 
 midst, becoming, indeed, a part of Walpole itself, can 
 never forget his keen sense of the ridiculous ; and it 
 may well be supposed he found many opportunities to 
 remind me of the remarkable efficacy of a little rose- 
 water, and my valuable discovery in the culinary art. 
 
 In the early autumn, Aunt Louisa returned to Bos- 
 ton, leaving again a wide vacancy in our little home- 
 circle that nothing could fill. 
 
 The misty, frosty mornings came just as they do now. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 185 
 
 and the days came earlier and more early to a close, 
 as usual, but the bright and animating spirit, too, of 
 the household, which would have us forget it was not 
 springtime, had departed with the summer, and it was 
 long before we became accustomed to her absence. 
 The long, weary evenings seemed so long without her 
 cheerful presence. The doctor said, " There was no 
 one, now, to beat him every time at backgammon ; " 
 and he and Uncle Abel played cribbage until it was 
 an old story, and music was resorted to for a time. 
 The doctor played the violin charmingly ; I can recall 
 many of his favorite tunes, every note of which is per- 
 fectly familiar to me now. 
 
 It was thus the autumn of 1 8 14 was passed in this 
 bachelor home, — the relatives dropping in along through 
 the day, — and there was no end to them at that time. 
 Grandmother, who had returned from Fitzwilliam, was 
 considered common property : each one had a right in 
 her; and she bestowed her kindly words, as she did 
 her pleasant smiles, upon all alike. 
 
 At Christmas time, a new star was added to Walpole 
 society : Mrs. Gardner's lovely young sister came to 
 spend the winter ; and they both often made a part of 
 the evening circle round our bright hearthstone ; and 
 a merry time was had, especially if the doctor was not 
 called off for a professional visit. 
 
 At this time, also, Mr. Dickinson had a standing 
 invitation to take tea once a week. This invitation 
 didn't become outlawed for many years. His presence 
 at the tea-table was looked for with as much certainty 
 as his appearance in the pulpit on Sunday ; and it was 
 only when Uncle Abel went abroad for two years, 
 which was after his marriage, that these visits of Mr. 
 Dickinson were interrupted. 
 
1 86 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 Mr. Dickinson, at this time, occasionally exchanged 
 pulpits with Rev. Mr. Mason, of Northfield. After one 
 of these exchanges, he made an ominous visit, one day, 
 when he and Uncle Abel were in solemn conclave such 
 a long time as to lead grandmother and myself to form 
 all sorts of conjectures. In a few days, the announce- 
 ment was made at the breakfast-table that he and Mr. 
 Dickinson were going to take a short journey for recre- 
 ation and variety ; and Jack, a half-mulatto boy, about 
 twenty years old, was ordered to bring the sleigh to 
 the door at ten o'clock. Mr. Dickinson appeared in 
 time to take an additional cup of coffee, as he had 
 taken a hurried breakfast at home. 
 
 It was evident that Dr. Morse had not been trusted 
 with the secret of where or what the object of this 
 journey was ; and this opportunity for his humorous 
 remarks was not lost. So those two bachelors started 
 off in the most exuberant spirits, that cold, frosty 
 morning, seventy-two years ago. I went into the 
 kitchen, to get a better view from that window to 
 watch their departure, and heard Cyrus, the colored 
 man, saying to Becky, "You better believe Mr. Abel 
 wouldn't been so fussy 'bout his boots, if there wasn't 
 somethin' more'n common in the wind ! " 
 
 It may be remembered that boots, at that period, 
 were worn over the pantaloons, reaching nearly to the 
 knee ; and the tops were made in various patterns, 
 and were highly polished ; and sometimes a long silk 
 tassel would be suspended from the top in front. 
 When Becky called Cyrus' attention to the absence 
 of this appendage, he blew a long whistle, saying, 
 "You've lived here long enough to know Mr. Abel 
 don't b'lieve in no such nonsense as that." 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 187 
 
 It was customary, at this time, when there were 
 so many bearing the name of Bellows, to distinguish 
 them by their Christian names or titles ; and when 
 there was a number by the same Christian name, as 
 it happened occasionally, they would be distinguished 
 by their number. 
 
 When this mysterious journey was ended, and the 
 parties returned and settled down again to every-day 
 life, our suspicions were forgotten for a time, but only 
 to be revived when the snow had disappeared, and the 
 bright sunshine of spring was giving a new face to 
 everything. 
 
 The household was awakened very early, one morn- 
 ing; Mr. Otis Bardwell brought the passengers from 
 Keene to Walpole, and the arrival of the old yellow 
 stage, with its red wheels, drawn by four horses, was 
 regularly announced from the end of a tin horn, before 
 most of the inhabitants had finished their dreams of 
 the night. Grandmother and I occupied a room on the 
 lower floor ; and, on this morning, I was awakened by 
 her saying, " You must get up, child ; some one has 
 come. Put on my shawl, and go to the door." At this 
 moment, the bang of trunks on the doorstep, and a 
 loud knock on the door from the end of a big whip, 
 accelerated my steps ; and the door was quickly opened 
 to one whose coming always brought so much joy and 
 gladness. The cheerful, ringing tones of Aunt Louisa 
 soon brought the whole household out of their beds. 
 Uncle Abel was one of the first to appear, saying, " You 
 have certainly caught me napping, this time ; but I 
 have no apology, as it was evidently intended." I think 
 an arrival from Boston occasioned about as much ex- 
 citement, at that time, as an arrival from any port in 
 Europe does at the present day. 
 
l88 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 When Becky made her appearance, breakfast was 
 ordered an hour earlier than usual, after which the doc- 
 tor proposed as a medical prescription to have our 
 young lady guest tucked nicely into bed, and left to her 
 own reflections until she had made up the lost sleep in 
 the two days' and one night's travel on this journey 
 from Boston to Walpole. 
 
 Aunt Louisa slipped very easily into her accustomed 
 place in this bachelor home, as matter of course assum- 
 ing the direction of affairs ; and, as her brother was 
 very fastidious in various things, it was a great relief to 
 grandmother, as she was too advanced in years to keep 
 up with the times in many respects, and my own cares 
 were very much lightened ; for, although I was in 
 school, I somehow felt myself responsible for whatever 
 was going on at home. 
 
 As the summer drew near, there seemed to be some 
 unusual preparations going on, without any explana- 
 tions. Grandmother looked very wise, but kept her 
 own counsel. When Mr. Bardwell brought a large 
 package to Uncle Abel, one morning, and a bandbox 
 to Aunt Louisa from Boston, things were becoming a 
 good deal complicated ; but, when Jack appeared in his 
 new suit, all aglow with bright, brass buttons, our con- 
 jectures were at an end. 
 
 As they all sat down to tea, that evening. Uncle 
 Abel remarked, that he and Aunt Louisa would set out 
 in the morning on a short journey; they were going to 
 Northampton. The doctor, in his own comical way, in- 
 quired if there was any probability they would go by 
 the way of Northfield. 
 
 It was very evident, on their return, that the object 
 of their journey, whatever it might be, was satisfac- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 189 
 
 torily attained ; and, when Mr. Dickinson and Cousin 
 Si came in the evening, there was a good deal of pretty 
 lively conversation, making great merriment for a time. 
 
 It was, now, soon ascertained that the wall-paper in 
 all the lower rooms was soiled, and out of style ; it had 
 not been noticed before. There must also be a fresh 
 coat of paint on both the parlors. Mr. Nicanor Towns- 
 ley, — the man who also reported in the meeting-house 
 all intentions of marriage, — came, one morning, with 
 all his apparatus to hang paper, and to whitewash ; Mr. 
 Jacob Brown following with his paint pot and brushes. 
 It can easily be supposed that the house was turned 
 upside down while this work was in progress ; but it 
 came to an end, at last ; and, when order again reigned 
 in Warsaw, and the household was restored to its usual 
 state of amiability, every member of the family seemed 
 under the happy influence of this peaceful serenity. 
 When we were gathered around the tea-table, for the 
 first time set in its usual place, after this great house- 
 quake, the doctor inquired, in his own quaint way, of 
 Uncle Abel, if matrimonial intentions were usually thus 
 announced by Nicanor Townsend, and were accompa- 
 nied by such convulsions as had been lately experi- 
 enced in this abode ; that he had a personal interest in 
 the question, as he was intending to be married himself 
 in a few months. 
 
 It unexpectedly became necessary for Aunt Louisa 
 to return to Boston in the early autumn, — her brother 
 John claiming to have a larger ownership in her than 
 her younger brother Abel, — and so we were compelled 
 again to submit to the inevitable. It was a great dis- 
 appointment, as she intended to remain here until her 
 place should be filled by the lovely young stranger who 
 was soon to be installed in that home. 
 
I go PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 Perhaps I should have explained before this, that it 
 was Rev. Mr. Dickinson who discovered this paragon 
 of all virtues ; it happened the first time he exchanged 
 pulpits with Mr. Mason, of Northfield. On rising, to 
 commence the morning service, the first object his 
 eyes rested upon was, as he expressed it, this vision 
 of beauty ; she occupied a pew directly in front of the 
 desk, and her large lustrous eyes were turned up to his 
 face. At the close of the service, he observed Mrs. 
 Mason conversing with her in the vestibule, and, on 
 joining them, she was introduced as Miss Houghton ; 
 and he learned that she was as lovely in character as 
 she was in person, and he at once decided to interest 
 his friend at Walpole in this young lady on his return ; 
 and the result I have already given. 
 
 Should the question arise how I came to the knowl- 
 edge of all the particulars I have just related, I can 
 readily answer it. It was only a few months after my 
 uncle's marriage that I was myself sent to Northfield, 
 to attend school ; and I soon became acquainted with 
 these families with whom she was always most familiar. 
 I shall never forget the manner in which they always 
 spoke of her, as their lost treasure, and as one whose 
 beauty and refinement were indelibly impressed upon 
 the community in which she was born. 
 
 There were three sisters in this family, all of whom 
 were classed with the remarkable women of their time, 
 by all who knew them. The eldest, Lucretia Houghton, 
 became the wife of Judge Prentiss, of Northampton, 
 who was afterward a senator in Congress twelve years. 
 The youngest daughter married Henry Bowen, a mer- 
 chant of Middlebury, Vt. She was not handsome, but 
 she impressed you at once with her indescribable love- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES I9I 
 
 liness of manner, and those large, lustrous, black eyes, 
 so full of sweetness and intelligence. They were her 
 father's eyes. He was a man of dignified bearing, 
 and was justly proud of his daughters, and was not 
 sparing of money in their education. 
 
 Well, the autumn months seemed never, as at this 
 time, to pass away so slowly ! I had found that this 
 lovely young stranger would be brought to our home 
 some time in December. • I remember ray uncle was 
 perfectly silent upon this topic ; not even Dr. Morse, 
 with all his shrewdness, could obtain any satisfactory 
 information, although several attempts were made to 
 approach the subject. Even after the proclamation for 
 Thanksgiving had been read, as usual, following the 
 Sunday service, Dr. Morse inquired, when sitting down 
 to breakfast, next morning, if it was only the turkey 
 and plum-pudding for which this household were to 
 give thanks on this anniversary. The reply was so 
 equivocal, it was evident my uncle intended to keep 
 his matrimonial affairs to himself. 
 
 It was but a few days after this, that an elegant new 
 sleigh was driven into the yard. It was something 
 quite different from anything of the sort ever seen in 
 Walpole before. It was a double sleigh, with a bellows 
 top; and the handsome robes that came with it, and 
 the beautiful bay horses that would take it swiftly over 
 the road, were a theme for no little conversation in the 
 neighborhood. Some other things, out of the usual 
 routine, occurred at this time, which were very sug- 
 gestive. My uncle maintained a profound silence, and 
 no one presumed to ask any questions ; but it was very 
 evident that matters were coming to a crisis. Mr. 
 Dickinson appeared, one evening, earlier than usual 
 
192 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 for his weekly visit. This was ominous, for he was 
 exceedingly precise in all his habits ; and, to come on 
 Tuesday evening instead of Thursday, which he had 
 so long and regularly observed, was surely a suspi- 
 cious movement ; for we had reason to believe he was 
 the repository of all we should so much like to know 
 about, — ■ not, however, to simply gratify curiosity, but 
 we did not wish to be wholly taken by surprise. 
 
 Although I had just entered my seventeenth year, I 
 can yet remember how ambitious I was to have every 
 part of the house in order, and appear to the best ad- 
 vantage; and, as my grandmother was nearly eighty, 
 she left it all to myself and Becky to make the neces- 
 sary preparations for the supposed advent of this young 
 stranger. I think Mr. Dickinson must have been aware 
 that I was giving a little more than my usual attention 
 to the conversation going on, for he looked at me with 
 a questioning smile many times during the evening. 
 When he rose to take his leave, he placed in my uncle's 
 hand something that looked like a letter, without any 
 comment. That I thought was somewhat significant. 
 He then, as usual, bade us good-night; but, as they 
 went to the door, he took my uncle's hand with some 
 ambiguous expressions in his good-by, which brought 
 a hearty laugh from both of them. I was then sure 
 my suspicions were correct, and I told grandmother 
 she must be prepared for startling news in the morn- 
 ing; and when she inquired why I had come to think 
 so, I told her everything I had seen and heard that 
 evening. She was greatly amused at my conclusions. 
 
 The next morning was intensely cold ; but the bright 
 sun had begun to remove the frost from the window- 
 panes when we sat down to breakfast, and Cyrus had 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 193 
 
 come with some hesitation to the door, saying that 
 Jack had come for his orders. He was bidden to wait 
 until breakfast was over, as there was plenty of time. 
 
 I will explain here, that Jack was a colored boy, about 
 twenty, that Cousin Si had kept in his family from 
 early childhood. He was unusually bright, and had 
 been trained to take care of and drive the horses, — an 
 occupation in which he greatly excelled ; and, on state 
 occasions, my uncle would borrow him to drive his 
 spirited bays, which he could do as no other one could. 
 Cyrus took care of them, but he was not as good a 
 driver as Jack. 
 
 Before rising from the breakfast-table, my uncle 
 quietly said, " I am going to Northfield, to-day, and shall 
 return to-morrow afternoon." He then called Jack, and 
 told him to be ready to start at eleven o'clock. Well, 
 to my great satisfaction, the way was made clear to me 
 now ; and we only waited their departure to commence 
 operations. 
 
 The doctor, all this time, was evidently aware of 
 what was going on, but wisely kept his own counsel. 
 At the precise moment. Jack, with a mighty flourish 
 and crack of his whip, dashed up to the door. It was 
 quite difficult to determine of which he was most proud, 
 the beautiful bays in their gilded harness, or the ele- 
 gant sleigh with its splendid appendages ; but Cyrus, 
 a little jealous of Jack's privilege, said he was more 
 proud of himself, for had he not got a new fur cap with 
 long tails hanging down behind, and a new bright yel- 
 low silk bandanna for a muffler round his neck .' And 
 it was not probable he would forget the number of gilt 
 buttons he wore under his overcoat, and which he 
 would take the first opportunity to display ! 
 
194 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 My uncle didn't keep this equipage long in waiting ; 
 those pawing, dancing creatures were too impatient of 
 delay ; and he soon made his appearance, arrayed in 
 the warm and handsome outside garments he usually 
 wore ; which was a brown surtout, made in the fashion 
 of that time, — something like a frock coat of the pres- 
 ent day, with the skirt reaching a little more than half- 
 way below the knee. Over this was thrown an elegant 
 black broadcloth cloak, lined with fur. 
 
 As they left the door, Mrs. Gardner and her sister, 
 across the street, were waving their adieus, and the 
 doctor gave a warning word to Becky, that if she threw 
 anything after them, to let it be her shoe and not the 
 moccasin, which she still wore, and which once, in her 
 haste, she had sent after departing friends to secure 
 good luck for them ; and which, because it was a moc- 
 casin, involved the terrible possibility of bringing bad 
 luck upon them for life. 
 
 I soon followed my grandmother into the sitting- 
 room, to ask her advice about a few things, and also 
 tell her of my own plans ; for she always liked to know 
 what was going on, and she seldom objected to what- 
 ever I proposed to do. As we had so recently pre- 
 pared for Thanksgiving, in the manner of that time, 
 when there were pies and puddings made sufficient for 
 any number of weeks, it was not thought necessary to 
 do anything more than make a batch of pound cake. 
 As this was my first experiment, my ambition was now 
 raised to its highest point : the thought of failure was 
 too terrible to entertain for a moment; but I had not 
 much fear, for I had thoroughly learned the quantity 
 of each article of which it was composed, not forget- 
 ting the rose-water, which once brought me to grief. I 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 1 95 
 
 will here inform my readers, who perhaps may indulge 
 in a little curiosity, that my cake on this occasion was 
 a perfect success, and was complimented by the one for 
 whom it was particularly made. 
 
 The next in order was to see that my uncle's cham- 
 ber was suitably prepared. Although there was an 
 open fireplace, I could not remember ever having seen 
 a fire lighted in it ; and, when Becky had polished a 
 pair of brass andirons, and Cyrus had made a bright 
 fire, I took grandmother up to see how comfortable it 
 all looked. When I proposed opening the great north 
 parlor, there were at first some objections made; it 
 was such a cold day grandmother thought we couldn't 
 get the room sufficiently warm ; but, after some argu- 
 ment in favor, and Becky had respectfully reminded 
 her that the "fore-room" was always used for weddings 
 and funerals, she changed her opinion. And when I 
 had decorated the sideboard with all the cut glass, 
 and trimmed the silver candlesticks with curled papers, 
 giving a few more extra touches here and there, Becky 
 became quite enthusiastic, and declared the room 
 looked like a paradise. When I thought the air suffi- 
 ciently warmed, I took grandmother in, telling her we 
 would give them a warm reception, if it were possible ; 
 to which she replied, a bright, glowing fire would be 
 the most fitting expression of our warm and cordial 
 welcome on such a bitter cold day ; and she compli- 
 mented Cyrus on his remarkable skill in that depart- 
 ment. 
 
 The next day, as we were to look for the arrival as 
 early as four o'clock, my attention was given to what 
 I considered of much importance, — I wanted my grand- 
 mother to look as smart as possible, and proposed that 
 
196 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 she should put on her black silk ; but the early impress- 
 ion she received of a silk dress, probably when her 
 blue damask was purchased, was not yet obliterated, and 
 I could not persuade her that any circumstances could 
 make it proper for her to wear a silk dress at home ; 
 so the matter was compromised by her putting on a 
 nice bombazine. Her cap was the next in importance. 
 The double border, about half a finger in width, was 
 never more perfectly crimped ; and, when she folded 
 the book-muslin handkerchief across her bosom, I 
 thought she was fit to be presented to a queen ; and, 
 when at last she was seated with her knitting in her 
 own especial corner in the sitting-room, I took the op- 
 portunity to prepare myself — but not without some 
 trepidation — to meet the one who had lived in my im- 
 agination the last three months, and oh ! could she be 
 all my fancy had painted her.' 
 
 As I now turn to that day, so long ago, how vividly 
 I can recall each hour, as we completed our prepara- 
 tions with feverish haste ; the intense cold seeming to 
 make the day even shorter than it really was ! But at 
 length the hand on the old clock, which had stood in 
 that corner since long before I was born, pointed the 
 hour of four. I had completed my own toilet, not for- 
 getting to remind Becky to make herself look as neat 
 and tidy as possible, giving her at the same time a new, 
 bright calico apron, that grandmother had made for this 
 special occasion. 
 
 When I recall the way in which young misses in 
 their teens dressed at that period, I think it was in 
 better taste than the present manner. There certainly 
 was a childlike simplicity, which we do not often see at 
 the present day. As an illustration, I will describe my 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 197 
 
 own costume, on that especial afternoon. My dress 
 was a dark woolen fabric, called bombazette ; the skirt 
 was gored, and reached a little below the ankle, and the 
 waist was made precisely in the form we now make a 
 baby's slip. A linen cambric ruffle, plaited very fine, 
 and turned down over the edge, was the only bit of 
 trimming upon it, and the sleeves were long and made 
 with small puffs reaching half-way to the elbow. There 
 was no decoration for the skirt, save a broad ribbon, the 
 same color with which the gathers were tied back in a 
 large bow with long ends at the bottom of the waist 
 behind. 
 
 As combs were an appendage seldom used to confine 
 the hair, it was either cut short, or rolled on papers at 
 night, which were removed at the proper time next day, 
 letting the hair fall loosely about the neck in curls, 
 which was all the covering considered necessary for the 
 neck of young girls at that time. And so I was thus 
 arrayed, that long remembered afternoon, when I took 
 my place at the window, to catch the first glimpse of 
 those we were so anxiously awaiting ; and we were not 
 kept long in suspense. First came the music of those 
 clear bells ; and then the bays, half-covered with frost, 
 dashed round the corner of the street below us, and 
 the next moment they were at the door, which I had 
 already opened. My uncle alighted, and stood waiting 
 for a figure to emerge from the depths beneath that 
 bellows top. She soon appeared, and stepped lightly 
 to the ground, and he led her up the steps, saying to 
 me, "Here is an aunt for you;" and then, taking her 
 into the sitting-room, said : " Mother, I have brought 
 you a new daughter." She then stooped down, and 
 pressed her cheek against mother's without a word. 
 
1 98 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 This greeting, so unlike the usual manner, impressed 
 me in a way I have never forgotten. 
 
 The salutations over, I then assisted in taking off 
 a blue flannel pelisse that was trimmed with white 
 down. This garment was worn over a cloth habit, the 
 jacket embroidered with black silk braid. Her bonnet, 
 which was made of green silk, completed this travelling 
 costume. As soon as she had disrobed, grandmother 
 placed her in her own chair, in the warmest corner, as 
 she saw she was very much chilled. Uncle Abel bus- 
 tled about, calling Becky for hot water, with which he 
 prepared a cordial for her, and something for himself 
 also ; and now, sitting down before the fire, which Cyrus 
 said had been kept roaring all day, he pulled out his 
 watch, saying, " Harrit, we have not been three hours 
 coming from Northfield !" I will say, here, that he 
 always pronounced her Christian name with two sylla- 
 bles ; and once, when she remonstrated with him, a 
 friend who was present said, "A rose by any name was 
 just as sweet." 
 
 As I have already said, this was one of the coldest 
 days of the season, and it took some time to make 
 those who had been out so long in the frosty air com- 
 paratively comfortable ; but, when quiet was restored, 
 and I ventured to give my first scrutinizing glance, she 
 rose at the same moment, asking grandmother, as she 
 then kissed her for the first time, to take her own chair 
 again: and, as I placed another for herself, she kissed 
 me also, saying that she was too much chilled when she 
 first came in to greet us as she wished to. I thought, 
 then, as I did ever afterward, how sweet and lovely she 
 was ! As the usual tea hour was very near, I said to 
 my uncle, the parlor was nice and warm, perhaps he 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES I99 
 
 would like to sit there while the tea was prepared. He 
 expressed some surprise that I had thought of warming 
 that room, in words which implied a little doubt of the 
 possibility, as he took our guest — as we chose for the 
 moment to consider her — across the hall, and opened 
 the door, saying, " Well, well, Harrit, I declare, this is 
 more comfortable than I could have expected ! " 
 
 When tea was ready, a question arose, in my mind, 
 of great importance. My grandmother had always pre- 
 sided at dinner, but I had served the tea and coffee, 
 and should I, at this first repast, offer the new wife 
 this seat, or treat her as company ? It did not occur to 
 me that I could ask my uncle, and so the question 
 remained quite a puzzle, and was left to decide itself. 
 When my uncle brought her in, I stood where he could 
 give her my seat, if he should choose to do so, but he 
 placed a chair for her at his right hand, saying, "We 
 shall treat you, my dear, as our guest to-night." And 
 so, to my infinite relief, this momentous question was 
 put to rest. 
 
 The intense cold did not prevent several of the 
 nearest friends from dropping in after tea. Uncle 
 Thomas brought his wife with her aunt, Mrs. Dana, and 
 Mrs. Gardner and her sister. Mr. Dickinson also came 
 in at a later hour. He gave the young bride a cordial 
 greeting, and took his seat in the merry circle around 
 the fire, apparently in a high state of satisfaction, as he 
 joined in the lively conversation that was going on. 
 Perhaps there were, at that moment, some pleasant 
 anticipations for himself awakened. It had certainly 
 become known, there was another in Northfield who 
 had been sought ; but it yet remained to be seen if she 
 had been won. I will here inform those who may wish 
 
2 00 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 to know, that another minister, more fortunate than 
 Mr. Dickinson — his name was Shepherd — -persuaded 
 this lamb to come within his own fold, at Ashfield ; and 
 thus Walpole and Mr. Dickinson were deprived of a 
 most lovely and efficient pastor's wife. 
 
 As our visitors took, an early leave, my uncle called 
 me to go up-stairs with him, supposing there might be 
 some arrangements necessary for the comfort of this 
 new aunt, as he called her ; but, when he opened his 
 chamber-door, and saw a bright blazing fire in the 
 chimney, which Cyrus had carefully tended all day, he 
 expressed his surprise in the usual way, saying, "I 
 declare ! this is very nice and thoughtful of you. Go 
 and ask your aunt to come here, and stay with her ; she 
 may need your assistance." 
 
 As I have been inscribing on this white sheet, in visible 
 characters, all these little incidents — some of them so 
 trivial, as I am aware they are — that have been written 
 on the pages of memory alone, I have lived over again 
 the day I can never forget. Each person who partici- 
 pated in the simple occurrences I have described has 
 stood visibly before me, making this realized dream of 
 that long ago seem more like an event of yesterday. 
 
 When we gathered around the breakfast-table, next 
 morning, my uncle led her to the seat I was very will- 
 ing to relinquish ; and, as I watched the manner she 
 dispensed the honors of the table, her beautiful hands 
 attracted my notice, and I afterward saw that a delicate 
 foot corresponded with her hand. She, however, always 
 seemed unconscious of her own personal charms. No 
 one more studiously avoided anything which would in- 
 duce flattery ; it was most distasteful to her ; she was a 
 lady by nature, as well as by education. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 20I 
 
 How well I remember the first Sunday she went to 
 church ! My uncle's health prevented his accompany- 
 ing her, and she avoided all pretence of coming out as 
 a bride ; and when she entered the parlor prepared to 
 go, with her green silk bonnet on, my uncle remon- 
 strated with her. She had a white velvet hat, deco- 
 rated with two long, elegant white plumes, in which she 
 looked exceedingly lovely, and he wanted her to wear 
 it ; but his argument proved unavailing. She sweetly 
 told him that, when he could go with her, she would 
 wear it. He was evidently a little disappointed, and, 
 as he went out to put her in the sleigh, he caught an 
 old green plaid cloak from a nail in the entry, and 
 laughingly threw it over her, saying, " Everybody now 
 will know who you belong to ; for I have worn that 
 about town the last ten years." 
 
 She thanked him, and kept it on, which he did not 
 expect her to do ; but she wrapped it about her, saying 
 she would find it very comfortable. And, as we rode 
 a mile up-hill to the meeting-house, she made not a 
 word of comment, but quietly left it in the sleigh, and 
 wrapped it about her again when we returned home. 
 
 I will say, here, that I think my uncle discovered, 
 through this little episode, one phase of her character 
 with which he was wholly unacquainted : she did not 
 come to her conclusions hastily, but, when her decisions 
 were made, one might as well attempt to move the rock 
 of Gibraltar as to change her decision ; and how calmly 
 she would defend herself against any amount of opposi- 
 tion ! I never heard her raise her voice, or exhibit any 
 excitement upon any occasion, but showed always per- 
 fect self-control, and calmness of voice and manner. I 
 can now see my grandmother, as she sat calmly and 
 
202 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 silently with a suppressed smile, listening to a lively 
 discussion upon some point of difference, each main- 
 taining their own view of the question ; and it was 
 often amusing to notice with what pertinacity she 
 would hold her argument, making it apparent there 
 was no possibility of changing her opinion. He would 
 then say, " Well, well, Harrit, I think the better part 
 of valor will be for me to surrender ; but it must be 
 upon such conditions as an old general I once heard of. 
 He was willing to surrender, but he would never own 
 beat." 
 
 In the second year of his marriage, Uncle Abel began 
 to relapse, and the old trouble, dyspepsia, seemed to 
 take a firmer hold than ever. This was a new disease, 
 at that period, and it was not treated as at the present 
 day. He declined so rapidly, that a change of climate 
 was recommended as the only hope of recovery. 
 
 In all that lovely woman's life, I think this was the 
 most trying ordeal, save one. She had a lovely babe, 
 a little girl about eight months old. This precious 
 little one she must leave behind. It was necessary she 
 should devote herself wholly to her husband, and she 
 was not one who ever allowed any personal feeling 
 to prevent her performing whatever she considered a 
 duty. It was in 1819 that preparations were made for 
 this journey: they were to sail from Boston for Eng- 
 land, early in September. 
 
 I can never forget the last few days that intervened 
 before the parting. How often, in those weary hours, 
 she would press the lovely little creature to her bosom, 
 the tears falling upon its face like rain ; but the last 
 sad moments came, and oh ! what a tempest of agony 
 was wholly suppressed when, with a face white as 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 203 
 
 marble, and with no word nor tears, she pressed the 
 little one again to her bosom, and then put her in my 
 arms, saying, " Oh ! take her away ! " Every one who 
 witnessed this struggle was in tears, and there were 
 many friends present who had come to take, as they 
 supposed, their last leave of my uncle. He travelled in 
 his own carriage, and was so weak and prostrated he 
 could only reach Boston by going a few miles each day. 
 It will be remembered, at that period, steamboats were 
 not known ; and the voyage across the Atlantic was 
 made in a sailing vessel, taking a number of weeks to 
 go from Boston to Liverpool. 
 
 The first letter that was received gave us the pleas- 
 ant intelligence that they reached port without acci- 
 dent, and there was hope that the change would be 
 beneficial. It was two years and a half, when again 
 they set foot upon their own native soil : their absence 
 had been prolonged by the birth of a son, born in Lon- 
 don, and he was six months old when they returned. 
 How clearly the occurrences of that day are present to 
 my mind ! There seemed but one thought to have taken 
 possession of us all. That sweet, loving mother was 
 not coming home to the same little one she had left 
 with so much pain : two-and-a-half years had wrought 
 an entire change, and she now pressed to her throb- 
 bing heart a little girl of more than three years old, — 
 a perfect image of herself, in feature and complexion ; 
 she was a vision of loveliness, and again the thought 
 now impresses itself upon me, I am the only one living 
 upon whose memory is mirrored the image of that 
 beautiful child that had been my especial care during 
 their absence ! It had been arranged, before they left 
 home, that Uncle Thomas and wife should fill the va- 
 
2 04 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 cancy made in the household by their departure, and 
 have the general supervision of the family. I cannot 
 leave that dear little one yet, who has been enshrined 
 in my heart through all these long years, but I have 
 only a little way farther to follow her ; for her stay 
 with us was not long. She lived only three years 
 more, to give sunshine to that home. She bore the 
 sweet name of Charlotte, — a name made doubly sweet 
 to me by association, for years afterward I gave it to 
 my own and only little one, to perpetuate that child's 
 name and memory ; but she also stayed here but a 
 little while, and died at the same age as her little 
 cousin. 
 
 Another great sorrow awaited this household a few 
 years later. A little daughter had again been placed in 
 the arms of this loving mother ; and how joyfully it was 
 received, — a little sunbeam whose brightness seemed 
 never dimmed ! She was unlike her elder sister ; she 
 had great beauty, but it was of a different type, resem- 
 bling more her father's family. During her brief life, 
 she was the light and joy of that home, afterward 
 made so desolate by her death, when little more than 
 sixteen years old. 
 
 Our cousin. Rev. Dr. H. W. Bellows, better describes 
 this sad blow, when speaking of others who belonged to 
 us that were cut off in all the loveliness of youth and 
 beauty. He continued : " We add to this necklace of 
 our family jewels, with which Death has arrayed him- 
 self, one fitting in lustre and worth to be its clasp: 
 Harriet Louisa Bellows, in maiden maturity, and in 
 the bloom of her loveliness, was cut off by sudden and 
 violent illness, when at school at Lenox, Mass., in 1850. 
 Charming in form and feature, mild and docile in tem- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 205 
 
 per and manners, formed to cheer and adorn the home 
 of which she made the life and hope, this lovely girl 
 had won the admiration and respect of the village, 
 of which she promised to be its brightest ornament. 
 She was privileged beyond others, but never envied ; 
 an only daughter, and yet not spoiled ; beautiful, but 
 unaffected ; gay, yet innocent. Unspeakably necessary 
 to the happiness of her parents, death could not spare 
 her who could least be spared by us. God took her 
 whom everybody wanted, and desolated the hopes of a 
 life, the light of a father's old age, a mother's pride and 
 joy, an only brother's companion. Faith has consoled, 
 and time has familiarized, and a hope beyond the grave 
 more and more lightens the dreadfulness of that loss ; 
 but it is fitting, when God smites so hard, we should 
 recognize the full severity of his blow, meekly bowing 
 before his majesty and goodness, in our direst afflic- 
 tions." 
 
 Thirty-seven years have elapsed since that dark cloud 
 enwrapped this household. What agony of grief when 
 that daughter was brought home to her father in her 
 coffin ! The mother who had gone to her returned with 
 her dead child, nearly paralyzed by this blow. 
 
 On hearing the sad news, Dr. Bellows hastened from 
 New York to Lenox, and was there to help sustain the 
 mother through those sad hours. He then hastened to 
 Walpole in advance of the others, to prepare and help 
 support our uncle, who was entirely broken down by this 
 sudden calamity, and never again during all his after 
 years seemed like his former self, but more like a child 
 that needed to be soothed and cared for. It was not 
 many weary years that he was kept in waiting, when he 
 was laid to rest beside the two lovely children who 
 
206 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 made so much of his happiness while they were here 
 on earth ; and what one of us shall attempt to tell how 
 much these two may now contribute to his joy in the 
 heavenly home ? The dear mother remained a few 
 years longer with the loving friends below, when she, 
 too, bade adieu to all earthly scenes, and joined the 
 family above. 
 
 The only son, Abel Herbert Bellows, is still living. 
 He graduated at Harvard in 1842, and then studied law, 
 and practised for several years at Concord, N.H. His 
 interest in his native town and in the family were mani- 
 fest by his efficient and devoted services at the time 
 of the gathering of the clan, at the dedication of the 
 founders' monument. On that occasion Dr. Bellows, 
 when extending his thanks to those who had specially 
 aided him in his preparation of his address, said : " Far 
 beyond any thanks due to other kindly helpers is my 
 gratitude to Cousin Herbert, who for weeks has kept the 
 mail freighted with his contributions of new facts and 
 incidents bearing on the family history. Beside general 
 historical information, he has contributed some of the 
 best characterization, and some of the happiest narra- 
 tives in the address. I should be most ungrateful not 
 to make our kinsmen aware that, though deprived of 
 Cousin Herbert's presence to-day, no one has con- 
 tributed more substantially to the interest of the occa- 
 sion, or had at heart a livelier sympathy with the cer- 
 emonies of the day." 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 There was much in our Aunt Susan's life worthy 
 of note, beside her wedding, which I have already de- 
 scribed, taking place when her brother Abel assumed 
 the proprietorship of the old home in which she had 
 passed the greater part of her life since her childhood. 
 She had always been the presiding genius in her 
 brother Joseph's household. It has been truly said, 
 some people were created for leaders ; and she was a 
 fair specimen of that class. Not only in the house- 
 hold, but in society, Susan Bellows was one of the 
 reigning queens, not for the reason that she was a 
 beauty, for she was not that, but her face was beaming 
 with intelligence, and she possessed a dignity and 
 superiority of manner that none could mistake. But 
 what was most charming in her young life was her 
 vivacity and brilliant wit and humor, cropping out 
 always in her own inimitable manner. 
 
 I have already stated that her marriage made her the 
 stepmother of four children. There were two daugh- 
 ters and two sons : Eliza was the oldest, and about 
 seventeen ; Jonas, named for his father, was the eldest 
 son ; Maria was the second daughter, and not quite fif- 
 teen ; another, who was the youngest, and called John, 
 was a lad of twelve years. 
 
 It can readily be seen, it would take no small amount 
 of good judgment, good sense, and nice discrimination, 
 and we will add a little tact, to manage all those half- 
 
2o8 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 matured children ; but these qualities she possessed in 
 no small measure. 
 
 The daughters were amiable and pretty, and the sons 
 were fine-looking boys. I think their stepmother was 
 very proud of her family, particularly when following 
 her up the broad aisle to the family pew, their father 
 always leading the way. Of our Aunt Susan it was 
 often said, she was the best type of the old Puritan in 
 the Bellows family. She was a strict observer of the 
 Sabbath. Not one in her household was permitted to 
 remain at home, if by any possibility able to go to 
 church on Sunday. Anything that pertained to dress 
 was of secondary consideration ; and her lessons to us 
 girls upon the display of fine clothes at church were 
 worthy of being handed down to posterity. 
 
 There were some clearly-defined rules established, 
 which the young people were required by her very 
 strictly to observe. Perhaps I cannot better illustrate 
 the original and happy manner in which she governed 
 this family without their knowing it, than by giving one 
 or two examples. If she wished to correct a bad habit, 
 or establish a good one, she would take the opportunity 
 when all were present to express her own views, upon 
 that and kindred ones, and then request them to give 
 theirs, always treating their opinions with as much 
 respect as if they were equals in age and judgment. 
 When she had gained her point, of enlisting their inter- 
 est, and committing them to the side of right action, 
 she would propose some penalty or forfeit, to which 
 they should all assent, for the non-observance of the 
 more important rules. Thus, there must be no delay 
 at the breakfast-hour. For this, there was an especial 
 penalty ; and Jonas, the big boy, was most sure to be 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 209 
 
 the culprit, when no small amount of fun was antici- 
 pated and fully realized during the whole day following. 
 
 As no apology could be accepted save that of real sick- 
 ness, when found guilty in the first degree, the culprit 
 was sentenced to wear through the livelong day a pair 
 of boots which had been handed down from a remote 
 generation. They had been carefully put away, evi- 
 dently for preservation. Their history ever remained 
 an impenetrable mystery, for no questioning threw any 
 light upon it. It was difficult to determine which ex- 
 cited our mirth most, those boots, or the mock peni- 
 tence with which the wearer would walk round in them. 
 Even his father, with all his gravity and dignity, could 
 not withstand the grotesque attitudes and the comical 
 expressions. Jonas was unusually tall, and these boots 
 came to the top of his knee ; a broad band of red mo- 
 rocco, six inches wide, turned down over the top ; the 
 heels were very high, and the toes were run to a sharp 
 point, three inches in length, and turned over on to the 
 instep. The thought of these boots would ever create 
 a smile; associated as they always were with that 
 fun-loving, fine-looking, good-natured boy, who always 
 treated his stepmother with respect and kindness so 
 long as he remained at home, to receive her kindness 
 and discipline. 
 
 As Uncle Robeson was much the wealthiest man in 
 Fitzwilliam, he was also the leading man in business 
 and all public enterprises ; and Aunt Susan thought 
 his influence and effort should extend beyond the mere 
 getting of money; they should also be looked upon as 
 examples and leaders in all the moral excellencies. 
 Perhaps no one was better qualified by nature to lead 
 in that direction than she; for her good, strong com- 
 
2IO PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 mon sense pervaded everything she attempted ; and to 
 her deep, religious nature was added a dignity and per- 
 suasive power of appeal that usually proved irresistible. 
 
 There is nothing I can recall more vividly than 
 the way she would dissuade her young people from 
 indulging in whatever she considered demoralizing; 
 their choice of amusements, and plans for visiting; 
 those also whom they selected for companionship : 
 nothing seemed to escape her vigilance. 
 
 I think it was in the year preceding her marriage, 
 that Maj. Robeson built the Turnpike between Fitz- 
 william and Keene, thereby greatly lessening the num- 
 ber of hills that were the terror of travellers and 
 teamsters on the old road from Keene to Boston. 
 This enterprise also greatly benefited his own town, 
 by turning the travel through it. It was also princi- 
 pally by his efforts that a new meeting-house was built 
 in the same year of their marriage, taking upon himself 
 the work of soliciting subscriptions for that purpose, 
 and contributing very largely himself. There may be 
 a few now living, who, if they should read this, will 
 remember its destruction, a few months after it was 
 completed. Strangely enough, in the month of Jan- 
 uary, there was a violent thunder storm, when this 
 house was struck by lightning, and burned to the 
 ground. The comments that were made upon this 
 calamity, by a certain class of the inhabitants, were 
 more amusing than reasonable ; and it may well be 
 supposed it was most discouraging to those who had 
 given all they could afford for its erection. But it 
 took more than this to discourage or dampen the 
 ardor of Maj. Robeson, who told them, whatever had 
 been once done could be done again ; and in due time 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 211 
 
 he commenced with more zeal than ever to get funds 
 for the rebuilding of this house. And the next au- 
 tumn, old Mr. Sabin, the minister, found himself with 
 his small but zealous congregation in a new house, 
 superior to the one which had been destroyed. 
 
 I have only given this account as one specimen of 
 his energy; and these, by her own confession, were 
 the qualities that first engaged her attention. How 
 well I remember, one boisterous, stormy evening, when 
 Aunt Susan and the two girls and I were sitting alone, 
 the bright, blazing fire seeming more grateful by the 
 contrast of what was outside ! We congratulated our- 
 selves on having an uninterrupted time for work and 
 conversation; for Aunt Susan always improved such 
 opportunities to make herself entertaining, besides giv- 
 ing some of her never-to-be-forgotten moral lessons. 
 Any one, now living, who knew her at that period in 
 her life, will be able to recall the sudden manner with 
 which she would sometimes startle you with an unex- 
 pected question, or give some vigorous word of advice. 
 A brief silence was broken at this time, when she 
 quickly looked up, saying, " O girls ! are we not all 
 going to meet in heaven > " This was followed by 
 some remarks that were suggested by the question. 
 After this followed an examination of our work, upon 
 which some pretty sharp criticism was made on Eliza's 
 careless way of doing some things, for sewing she 
 always declared was her abomination. Her step- 
 mother, however, insisted that whatever she did should 
 be done well. After this colloquy, we worked steadily 
 a short time ; when she again spoke suddenly, and with 
 much emphasis, "Girls, remember what I say to you 
 now ; never make yourselves too cheap ! " This re- 
 
212 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 minded us at once of her conversation the evening be- 
 fore, — endeavoring to impress upon our minds all the 
 maidenly proprieties and improprieties, which no one 
 perhaps understood better, or could point out more 
 clearly than she could. 
 
 As I recall the manner in which she obtained such a 
 remarkable influence over others, I can more clearly, 
 at this distance of time, understand the wonderfully 
 winning and compelling qualities that gave her this 
 power. One was that sweet musical laugh you would 
 often hear ; another was that tone of authority in 
 which she would direct all those who assisted in the 
 duties of the household. There was nothing imperious 
 in it, only the voice of one who used her native right 
 to dictate with the assurance her orders could not but 
 be obeyed, because they were always based on what 
 was right. It was six years after her marriage, when 
 she had two children of her own, — a little girl named 
 Mary Ann, and a son who was only three years old, 
 when Maj. Robeson was taken with typhoid fever, and 
 died. 
 
 This unlooked-for calamity occurred a few months 
 before the eldest daughter's marriage was to have 
 taken place with Dr. Wells, at that time a resident in 
 South Carolina. He had commenced the practice of 
 his profession in Fitzwilliam, but sought a wider field 
 at the South. The wedding was consequently delayed 
 more than a year. 
 
 I cannot forget the many long conversations of Aunt 
 Susan with Eliza upon the new life she was about enter- 
 ing on. Her religious counsel, particularly, was most 
 earnest and impressive ; and she did not forget the 
 poor slaves with whom they would be in contact in 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 213 
 
 that southern home. This was long before the slavery 
 agitation. Wendell Phillips and his colleagues were 
 not born ; but there were a great many northern people 
 who were as strongly opposed to that deplorable insti- 
 tution as he, but who had not his ability or enthusiasm, 
 or the courage of William Lloyd Garrison, to fight it. 
 
 With many other things which she said to this step- 
 daughter, as I recollect perfectly, she made the follow- 
 ing remark, " Eliza, it somehow is impressed upon my 
 mind that the Lord is about sending you into the midst 
 of these selfish and cruel slaveholders as an example of 
 pitying kindness ; teach them to temper their discipline 
 with mercy, in the correction of their slaves. Above 
 all other things, and under all circumstances, my daugh- 
 ter, dare to do right." 
 
 When Dr. Wells came on, in the early part of 
 December, it was soon apparent that he was pretty 
 thoroughly imbued with southern ideas. For a short 
 time. Aunt Susan was silently tolerant ; I knew, how- 
 ever, that the crisis would soon arrive ; she had too 
 much respect for herself to allow her opinions to be 
 treated with contempt, or tolerate any undue liberties 
 in her household. And when Dr. Wells ordered her 
 colored man, in a dictatorial manner, to harness for 
 him her horse for a drive, without so much as even say- 
 ing. With your leave, madam, she verified her belief in 
 the old saying, " There is a point beyond which forbear- 
 ance ceases to be a virtue." She overheard the order 
 and the tone of it, and went directly into the sitting- 
 room. I can now recall the flash in those large, expres- 
 sive black eyes, also the calm dignity and perfect fear- 
 lessness of her manner, when she said to him, " Dr. 
 Wells, I have taught my young people, when they 
 
214 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 want a favor, to ask for it. If it is the custom down 
 South to take whatever you wish, and whenever you 
 like, such lawlessness cannot be tolerated here ; and I 
 may as well remind you now, that our colored people 
 at the North are not slaves. Whenever you want boots 
 or shoes blacked, please take them to John. It is no 
 part of Lot's duty to perform such work as you seem to 
 impose upon her." This colored girl. Lot, was one 
 Aunt Susan brought into the family when she came. 
 She was a relative of Cousin Si's faithful old Rachel, 
 and proved to be most efficient and devoted help ; and 
 no one's personal rights were more scrupulously 
 guarded than hers, in this family. And this young 
 doctor found he had brought his southern ideas and 
 southern airs to the wrong market. Although this 
 rebuke was what he might have expected, — for he had 
 been an inmate of this household two years before 
 going to the South, — he seemed, however, much sur- 
 prised, and made an awkward apology. When Eliza 
 heard what had happened, — for the doctor told her 
 as soon as she came in, — she laughingly replied, 
 " Better have left your bad manners at home ; I am 
 glad there is an opportunity for your improvement." 
 She was amiable, gentle, and pretty in all her ways ; 
 her stepmother was very fond of her, and often in- 
 dulged in many painful forebodings, as she prepared 
 this child of her dead father, as she expressed it, to 
 go so far away from her. ' " Eliza," she would say, " I 
 never felt the need of your father so much as now; 
 do you think he would approve of all we are doing ? " 
 The wedding-day came at last. A few friends were 
 invited to witness the ceremony performed by old 
 Parson Sabin, the evening previous to her departure. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 315 
 
 How well I remember that cold leaden morning in 
 December, so portentous of a storm ! It was a perfect 
 index of the feeling within that household, so busy in 
 this last hour, making everything comfortable as pos- 
 sible for the long, cold ride in their own conveyance, 
 before taking the stage. When the last words were 
 spoken, and the last silent pressure of the hand given, 
 she went to her mother, and laid her head upon her 
 bosom for a few moments, receiving there her benedic- 
 tion. She then cast a long, lingering glance around 
 the room, as if, as it truly proved to be, it was her last 
 look upon her childhood's home. She then gave her 
 hand to Dr. Wells, who led her out, putting her into 
 the covered sleigh, thus shutting her from our sight 
 forevermore. Aunt Susan turned from the door, and 
 went directly to Maria's room, who had taken her leave 
 the night before of her sister, and did not come down 
 to breakfast, or see her again. The poor child had 
 wept herself quite ill, and it was evidently necessary 
 something should be done for her. It had occurred to 
 me that I had not seen Lot since breakfast, and went 
 into the kitchen to look for her. She had gathered 
 little Bellows up in her arms, — he was then a child of 
 three years, and of whom she was very fond, — and sat 
 weeping violently, declaring she would never see Miss 
 Eliza's dear face again, and she would rue the day she 
 ever went off with that man. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 There was nothing, now, to prevent Aunt Susan 
 from returning to the old home of her race, where so 
 many of her kindred were still living. John Robeson, 
 a boy of thirteen years, was placed in a military school ; 
 and Maria, the youngest daughter, was at Miss Fiske's 
 boarding-school, in Keene. She had nothing to leave 
 but her two graves, — those of her husband and daugh- 
 ter, — she who died when six years old ; and now she 
 bade adieu forever to the place where she had lived 
 so much in such a brief space of time. 
 
 It was not long after coming home that she built a 
 new house, fashioned after her own taste. I have 
 heard it remarked, that people often express something 
 of their individuality in the structures they build. I 
 think this must be true; for I can never pass this 
 house, although so many years have elapsed since she 
 went away, without becoming suddenly conscious of 
 the one who for so many years filled it with the life 
 of a noble Christian woman. 
 
 Her one earthly treasure, as she would often express 
 it, was her little boy, to whom was given her own 
 name, Bellows. I can never forget the impressive 
 way she would teach him his moral lessons, and how 
 strictly, also, she taught him the observance of good 
 manners. There is no one of our race, whom I have 
 known, who had a higher appreciation of good breed- 
 ing. She could never find any apology for the want 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 217 
 
 of it. I have known her to seek opportunities to say, 
 in the presence of those who were careless, that, what- 
 ever their occupation, be it ever so humble, it would 
 lend an additional grace to possess polite and agree- 
 able manners. "Why," she laughingly said, on one 
 occasion, " I would rather have, as a husband, a black- 
 smith who is a gentleman than a professional man 
 who is a clown ! " 
 
 When her son had reached a suitable age, she placed 
 him at a school, in Amherst, going with him herself to 
 choose his boarding-place, and secure the especial care 
 of some one of the teachers, to whom she presented 
 him as the "only son of his mother, and she a widow." 
 He graduated at Yale College. While at New Haven, 
 he became acquainted with Miss Susan Taylor, daugh- 
 ter of Prof. Taylor, the distinguished theologian. She 
 became his wife, after he had studied his profession, 
 and established himself in the city of New York as a 
 physician. His marriage was particularly gratifying to 
 his mother ; for to this young lady's personal graces 
 were added the charms of a bright intellect and lovely 
 character. Who that ever saw her can forget the pecu- 
 liar sweetness and loveliness of her manner ? Alas ! 
 the memories of that household always fill my heart 
 with tearful sadness! 
 
 How distinctly I can recall the words with which 
 Aunt Susan described to me the fulfilment of a long- 
 promised visit to the old home ! The professional 
 duties of her son, on whom were centred all of a 
 mother's love and pride, had detained him year after 
 year, each one rendering it still more difficult for him 
 to leave. " He came at last," she said, with her hands 
 pressed tightly together, and her eyes raised toward 
 
2l8 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 heaven, "he came home in his coffin; and, when they 
 had brought him in, and placed him in the parlor, I 
 seated myself close beside him, and the only words 
 my lips could form were, ' Be still, and know that I 
 am God ! ' and it was thus I received my lesson of 
 submission." 
 
 It can easily be conceived how crushing must have 
 been this terrible blow. All her bright hopes and high 
 expectations for future years were thus suddenly ended 
 in the death of this only son. The dark shadow of 
 disappointment seemed ever after brooding over her 
 spirit ; it was apparent that, to be cheerful, required an 
 effort ; that sweet, musical laugh was forever silenced. 
 It was not very long afterward that this son's widow, 
 the sweet, young mother, was called away, leaving her 
 four orphaned children to the tender and loving care 
 of relatives and friends. How warmly and lovingly 
 these little ones were taken into the hearts of those 
 who assumed the care of them was manifested in every- 
 thing that pertained to their future as well as present 
 welfare. 
 
 It had been an unspeakable happiness to Aunt 
 Susan to have the three little boys with her much of the 
 time, when old enough to leave their mother ; but she 
 was too far advanced in years, when the dear mother 
 went away, to have the entire charge of them ; but 
 the lessons she impressed upon their young hearts and 
 minds, by precept and example, I have reason to think 
 have never been forgotten by these grandchildren, who 
 still cherish her memory with reverence. And if she 
 is permitted to watch, from her heavenly home, the 
 footsteps of those she loved so much on earth, she must 
 feel assured her daily morning and evening prayers for 
 them were not in vain. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 219 
 
 At the time of this writing, there are only a few 
 nephews and nieces left, to hold in veneration the 
 memory of this aunt, and who can distinctly recall the 
 closing scenes of her life, and her last illness and 
 death. 
 
 It was the night before she died, that there was to 
 be a brilliant torch-light procession, to encourage the 
 election of Lincoln as President of the United States. 
 She had been all her life one of the most ardent of 
 patriots, and thoroughly informed upon all political 
 subjects. During this day, she had heard whispers 
 in her sick room about an illumination, and the neces- 
 sity of keeping the house dark and perfectly quiet. 
 Just at night, when they thought her near her end, 
 she roused from a lethargy, and asked why the win- 
 dows were not lighted ? It was explained to her that 
 it was because she was so sick, and they thought it 
 might disturb her : she said, in her feeble whisper, but 
 still with an authority that no one for a moment dared 
 to question, "Let every pane of glass, in every window 
 of this house, be lighted at once, if there are candles 
 enough in town to do it. It is my order ! " It was 
 the last order she gave, and it was obeyed to the letter. 
 That very night, to her another order came, which she 
 was waiting cheerfully to hear, and was glad to obey : it 
 summoned her where they need no candle, neither light 
 of the sun. 
 
 Her obituary, which I append to the sketch I have 
 given of her, was written by Uncle Knapp, and fur- 
 nishes a more adequate conception of her character 
 than I am capable of doing. 
 
220 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 OBITUARY. 
 
 "Died, in Walpole, N.H., Oct. 3, i860, Mrs. Susan 
 Robeson, widow of Col. Jonas Robeson, of Fitzwilliam, 
 and daughter of Col. Joseph Bellows, and grand- 
 daughter of Col. Benjamin Bellows, the founder of 
 Walpole. Rectitude, intellectual strength, and de- 
 cision early marked her character ; followed in maturer 
 years by deep piety, and a comprehensive view of the 
 duties of religion, she united in her character the 
 peculiar traits of Mary to Martha's devotion to duty ; 
 was active and influential in advancing the temporal 
 and spiritual prosperity of the religious society of 
 which she was a conspicuous member, never sparing of 
 money or of labor. 
 
 That the children of the parish might have the bene- 
 fit of her knowledge and experience, she continued to 
 instruct a Sunday-school class until nearly the end of 
 her life. The respectful manners, the kind-heartedness 
 and manly characters of her early orphaned grandchil- 
 dren, bear striking testimony to the wisdom of her lov- 
 ing care. Private and local objects did not absorb her 
 interests, or limit her exertion. 
 
 Temperance found in her a strenuous and eloquent 
 advocate, and human suffering of every description a 
 deeply sympathizing friend. The sick and the destitute 
 were relieved by the interest she took in their suffering 
 and wants. Her relatives and neighbors all join in 
 admiration of her noble spirit and consistent life. Her 
 strong, constant, and unwavering faith had long since 
 removed terror from death and darkness from the 
 grave, and imparted sustaining strength to spiritual 
 vision." 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 221 
 
 To this I will append a letter written by our cousin, 
 Rev. Dr. Bellows, to my Aunt and Uncle Knapp, im- 
 mediately after Aunt Robeson's death. It sets forth, 
 in strong light, the marked features of her character. 
 
 New York, Oct. 6, i860. 
 
 Dear Uncle and Aunt, — Frederick's letter, announcing Aunt 
 Susan's decease, came yesterday; and, as I suppose he is at Bos- 
 ton, I thought it best to direct my reply to you. I was, of course, 
 prepared to hear this, as Sister Eliza has kept me informed of her 
 gradual decline ; but the death of the most aged and infirm is 
 always, at the last, a surprise and a shock ! The candle cannot go 
 out so quietly that the darkness does not make itself sensibly felt. 
 I have not waited for the sanctifying influence of death before ap- 
 preciating the rare force and steadfast worth of Aunt Susan ! 
 Her puritan sternness and self-relying though God-fearing graces 
 have commanded the reverence of her neighbors, and the admira- 
 tion of her kindred ; the strength of her mind, the vigor of her 
 conscience, the determination of her will, the depth and persis- 
 tency of her convictions, the proud self-respect, the wide and 
 sleepless sense of responsibility for the good of others, the will- 
 ingness to do her duty, however costly to her purse or her inclina- 
 tions, her uncomplaining heroism in all her sorrows, her wide fam- 
 ily sympathies, her native wit and humor, — all these things make 
 me feel that Aunt Susan was one of the most memorable women in 
 our family record, and one whose death, though timely and blessed, 
 will be deeply felt in Walpole, and by her friends. It is impossi- 
 ble not to follow her to the abode which she had so long antici- 
 pated with Christian confidence as the scene of her final reward ! 
 I believe her eyes are already opened to many misconceptions, 
 and to some practical mistakes ; but I think very few will carry 
 a cleaner record, or can show a sincerer and more consistent life. 
 If my dear aunt had, earlier in life, been under a different influ- 
 ence, I think her views would have been softer, milder, truer, 
 but nothing could have made her a braver, more conscientious, or 
 more truly venerable character. I am proud to be her nephew. 
 I shall hold her memory in lifelong affection and respect. 
 
 May we not hope, dear uncle and aunt, that family ties, so 
 strong as ours have proved, will survive the power of death ? I 
 
222 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 could not contemplate the probable changes in the next ten years 
 with any serenity, did I not confidently hope that our friendships 
 and affections are superior to the short interruption of the grave ! 
 God bless you both, and preserve you to us all ! 
 
 Your affectionate nephew, 
 
 H. W. Bellows. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 When conversing with friends, grandmother would 
 occasionally speak of her large family ; when she usu- 
 ally improved the opportunity to say, she had ten boys, 
 before the advent of a little daughter, who was re- 
 ceived with great demonstrations of joy by her big 
 brothers, some of whom had quite reached manhood. 
 And they were permitted to find a name for her, which 
 all should unite in choosing. They were not long in 
 deciding upon the name of Susan. It was one held in 
 veneration, as it was the name of their mother's only 
 sister, who had long before passed away, and it was 
 particularly gratifying that they should have chosen 
 this for the little stranger ; and it was seldom spoken, 
 without recalling the one whose memory was very dear 
 to them, and to whom it was said she bore a striking 
 resemblance. 
 
 Two years have elapsed, and now another daughter 
 is placed in the arms of our grandmother. To this 
 one was given the name of her Grandmother Whitney, 
 whose maiden name was Sarah Farr. She was called 
 Sarah during a few of her early years, after which it 
 was changed to Sally ; and this name she bore through 
 the remainder of her long life, of over ninety years ; 
 and there is no name in this great family that can 
 awaken more tender memories than that of Aunt Sally. 
 She was very unlike her sister Susan, who was so full 
 of vivacity, and so conscious, always, of her ability to 
 
224 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 do and to dare ; while this one was painfully shy, and 
 never quite sure of herself in whatever she might at- 
 tempt. But this did not prove her inferiority ; for, in 
 reality, her natural gifts, in many ways, were quite 
 equal to those of her elder sister. 
 
 As I have already recalled a few incidents in her life, 
 we will pick up the thread again where we dropped it, 
 at the age of thirteen or fourteen, where we still find 
 her an inmate in her Cousin Caleb's family. And I 
 think she must have been serviceable, as well as agree- 
 able ; for when teaching me the use of my needle, at an 
 early age, she would entertain me by describing the 
 marvellously beautiful work her cousin would do, and 
 how proud she herself would feel when complimented 
 by her for having done her own work unusually nice. 
 
 I will say here, for the benefit of the young people 
 who may read these pages, that those who invented 
 sewing machines were not born at that time. All the 
 beautiful stitching and hemming was done with the 
 fingers, and Mrs. Caleb Bellows was no less distin- 
 guished in the art of sewing than she was in many 
 kinds of cookery, which she also endeavored to teach 
 my mother when old enough to assist her. And it 
 became the dream of my childhood, that, when I be- 
 came a woman, I should make just such lovely pound 
 cake as that which was baked in scolloped tins and in 
 the shape of a heart ; and my pies, also, should be 
 seasoned and decorated in all imaginary forms like hers. 
 I think it was when describing a Thanksgiving dinner, 
 that I received this lasting impression of our cousin's 
 cookery. 
 
 At this time, there was no one in our family who 
 could give more elegant entertainments than were 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 225 
 
 given by our Cousin Caleb and his wife, who was one 
 of the especial leaders in society. She was tall and 
 dignified, with a face not handsome, but beaming with 
 intelligence. Her brilliant conversational powers al- 
 ways drew about her a circle of admiring gentlemen, 
 who liked to talk with a sensible woman. It was said 
 she was quite as much of a theologian as Parson Fessen- 
 den, who was at that time their spiritual teacher. She 
 was also very fond of music, and would often invite 
 friends who could sing to come and practise sacred 
 music with her, when Uncle Josiah would usually join 
 them with his bass-viol. At this time, their Cousin 
 Sally was nearly fifteen, and her remarkably clear, 
 sweet voice was fully appreciated; and it was at this 
 time she was persuaded to attend a singing-school. I 
 have already spoken of her shy and retiring ways ; and 
 it was only when her Cousin Caleb promised to go with 
 her that she consented to join. 
 
 In telling me the story of some portion of her young 
 life, this singing-school had a prominent place. She 
 would always shrink from meeting unfamiliar faces, and 
 had an especial dislike to going where, as she would 
 say, she had not been once before. After her cousin 
 had formally introduced her into the school, she became 
 greatly interested in learning to read music, and would 
 have enjoyed it much more, if she had not been made 
 so conspicuous. 
 
 Thomas Fessenden, the parson's eldest son, but better 
 known as Tom Fessenden, played the flute, having a 
 seat by himself; and she was placed beside him, for the 
 reason that her voice accorded so well with that instru- 
 ment ; and he greatly added to her confusion by com- 
 plimenting her singing, keeping her face, as she said. 
 
226 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 in a blaze much of the time ; and, to her unsophis- 
 ticated mind, he seemed to enjoy it : and, what added 
 still more to her annoyance, he always came prepared 
 to take her home, by putting the pillion on behind his 
 saddle. It will be borne in mind, perhaps, that the 
 only mode of transportation, at that period, was on 
 horseback ; and it was quite customary for two to ride 
 on one horse, making a pillion a necessary appendage to 
 the saddle. She used to say, he followed her so closely, 
 she found it impossible to escape from what she con- 
 sidered a persecution, but what proved to be, in truth, 
 his sincere admiration for this very young lassie ; and, 
 when he became aware of her aversion to him, there 
 was no little disappointment expressed. 
 
 During this winter, Mrs. Caleb Bellows received a 
 visit from her father and mother, Squire Hartwell and 
 his wife, of New Ipswich. It was not the first time 
 they had visited her since her marriage, and these dear 
 old people could not too often visit this child, on whom 
 they had lavished such a wealth of love as well as 
 worldly goods ; and the burden of their conversation 
 was, how lonely, now, was the old home, since her de- 
 parture. Her young life had filled the household with 
 so much light and joy, that nothing then seemed want- 
 ing to make up their sum of happiness ; and now, on 
 their return, could they persuade the young Cousin 
 Sally to go home with them .-" She could attend the 
 school which had become quite popular, and the only 
 one in the State dignified at that time with the title of 
 academy. 
 
 This opportunity filled the child with delight, but her 
 cousins thought best she should wait a few weeks ; it 
 was necessary to prepare her wardrobe for the coming 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 22? 
 
 summer. The roads would then be better settled, mak- 
 ing the travel not only easy, but pleasant; for those 
 accustomed to travel on horseback found little fatigue 
 in the exercise, and a fine opportunity wa.s given for 
 enjoying the scenery. 
 
 When Esquire Hartwell and his wiie returned to 
 New Ipswich, it was arranged that she would come 
 some time in April, and attend school one term, which 
 was as long as she could be spared, or rather as long as 
 it would benefit her to study at one time. Mrs. Bel- 
 low's theory of education was, to mix a good deal of 
 practical training with intellectual acquirement ; and, as 
 I look back upon that far-off time, I think that must 
 have been the general theory ; and, in my own early 
 life, the mixture savored much more of the practical 
 than the intellectual. 
 
 This anticipated journey — the first since her baby- 
 hood — was a dream of delight, by day and by night, 
 as she used to describe it to us. Her cousins at the 
 colonel's were in full sympathy with her, particularly 
 Sophia, who entered deeply into this plan for her to 
 attend this celebrated school. Her aunt expressed her 
 pleasure, by measuring off a dress for her from a piece 
 of striped blue and white linen. It was a home manu- 
 facture, for which Aunt Colonel's establishment, as I 
 have told you, had become quite celebrated. The fabric 
 was noted for the fineness and delicacy of its texture. 
 She was very grateful for this substantial evidence of 
 their kindness; and, when returning home with her 
 precious bundle, if she did not step as lightly as Walter 
 Scott's " Lady of the Lake," she certainly stepped as 
 quickly ; for her hurry to reach home, and exhibit her 
 present, increased every minute. And, when she came 
 
2 28 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 bounding in, nearly breathless, her dignified cousin was 
 greatly surprised to find so much enthusiasm in one 
 who was usually so quiet and undemonstrative. 
 
 The days and weeks seemed never before so long as 
 now, when waiting for this last winter month to pass 
 away. But, like all things else, it came to an end at 
 last ; and now this first spring month brought its usual 
 work of the season, with an important addition : Sally's 
 wardrobe was to be made in readiness for an early de- 
 parture in April. 
 
 Perhaps some of my young readers may like to know 
 more than I have already told, of the way girls of four- 
 teen or fifteen were dressed at that period, near the 
 beginning of the century ; and I will tell them, though 
 possibly I may repeat something I have already said. 
 
 There were only a few materials from which dresses 
 were made. Silks, and all the fabrics that were made 
 from cotton, were imported ; but linen was generally 
 used for all purposes, and was manufactured at home, 
 by persons of all classes, — the poor and the rich alike. 
 Very few were so poor they could not make a web of 
 cloth, which they knew so well how to spin from tow ; 
 but that made from the beautiful soft flax was very 
 handsome, and worn at home by ladies as well as by 
 children. It was admirably fitting for school garments. 
 The blue and white stripe was fadeless, and always 
 new when clean ; and, what was of more importance, 
 would bear the wear and tear of the wildest games that 
 boys and girls were apt to indulge in, especially those 
 who lived so far away as to make it necessary to take 
 their dinner, and pass the noon hour at the school- 
 house. 
 
 We will now attend to the preparations for Sally's 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 229 
 
 departure to that far-off school, necessitating a two 
 days' journey to reach the institution. There were 
 many discussions as to what and how much would be 
 needful to take ; for nothing could be carried that a 
 pair of saddle-bags could not accommodate. And so 
 it was decided, that her white dimity, which she had 
 already worn two seasons to church, could be made 
 sufficiently long, by putting on a wide flounce at the 
 bottom. This bit of trimming was allowed, as a mat- 
 ter of necessity. Her cousin's ideas of simplicity in 
 the manner of dressing children were strictly adhered 
 to ; but Sally thought she should not be included any 
 longer in that category, for was she not nearly fifteen 
 years old } So this flounce, in her mind, was a great 
 acquisition, and greatly served in reconciling her to 
 wear a dress she had nearly outgrown. There was 
 also an appendage to this dress, called at that time a 
 Vandyke, and which we now would call a cape. This 
 also must have a ruffle at the edge, to enlarge it suffi- 
 ciently to cover the neck ; for all dresses for children 
 and misses were cut with a slip waist, — that is, such 
 as are made on baby's long dresses; and, as the 
 sleeves were nearly always made short, and gathered 
 into a band above the elbow, an extra pair of sleeves 
 were usually made to draw over the arms, and fast- 
 ened up with a button, for common dresses, but a pair 
 of long, soft kid gloves, tied up with a bit of ribbon, 
 was deemed indispensable to complete a nice dress. 
 As we have now got Sally's white dimity sufficiently 
 enlarged to be wearable, we will finish this, her Sunday 
 costume, by putting on a straw hat with a broad brim, 
 and a ribbon carried over the crown, tying it down 
 closely to her face; while her wealth of long brown 
 
230 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 hair is fastened up low down at the back of her head. 
 And now, in imagination, I have my own mother stand- 
 ing before me, as she was at the age of fifteen. After 
 mature deliberation, it was at length concluded, that 
 two more dresses beside her nankeen habit, which 
 was only worn for a riding dress, was all that were 
 necessary for her to take, or that could possibly be 
 carried in such a limited space as one side of a pair of 
 saddle-bags ; for the other side must be reserved for 
 various things quite as necessary as dresses. One of 
 these last two dresses was the lovely blue and white 
 striped linen her Aunt Colonel had given her, which 
 was yet to be made ; the other, a calico print, which 
 was in a fair state of preservation, having been made 
 in the autumn, and worn as prints only were worn 
 at that period, — for visiting and receiving company. 
 This print was much admired, having a large bright 
 flower stamped upon it, the name of which I cannot 
 now recall, as it is many long years since I heard it 
 from my mother's lips in childhood, as she described 
 its beauty to us children when old enough to under- 
 stand her, and take an interest in the simple stories 
 which she would relate connected with herself. It was 
 seldom she dealt in fiction for our entertainment. She 
 could always find enough in her own life sufficiently 
 interesting for that purpose. It is to this strict adher- 
 ence to what was true, and our interest in these home- 
 details, that I am indebted for the little episodes in her 
 early life that I am now relating. 
 
 Well, the weeks had all passed, and the days were 
 now counted that intervened before this long anticipated 
 journey was to be commenced. The importance of fair 
 weather, while on this horseback trip, can readily be 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 23 I 
 
 understoood, and the weather-wise, as well as the skies, 
 were often consulted ; for it is well known that April 
 skies, with their fair promises, often prove treacherous. 
 As the roads were now settled, it was deemed safe to 
 decide upon the day for their departure. How eagerly, 
 now, were the heavens scanned, and with what a thrill 
 of joy, as Sally watched the sun on that last day, sink 
 gloriously without a cloud behind the Westminster 
 hills, — the sure harbinger of a pleasant day on the 
 morrow ! And now the last things were done, on that 
 last evening, preparatory to an early start on the follow- 
 ing morning. 
 
 Old Pacer, as Sally's horse was called, was carefully 
 groomed, as was also the colonel's saddle-horse, which 
 he took great pride in, for he was a high-spirited, beau- 
 tiful creature; and, before the sun was fully risen 
 above the hill-top, they were dashing along the high- 
 way at a speed few ladies could indulge in at the 
 present time, — for old Pacer was bound to keep up 
 with Dick, who, if not checked, would always go as if 
 on a steeple-chase. 
 
 We cannot follow them all the way on that two days' 
 journey, but we know of the warm reception that 
 awaited them, when at length they alighted at Squire 
 Hartwell's door, which they reached just after night- 
 fall of the second day : while, meantime, many anxious 
 glances had been turned toward the windows by the 
 kind hearts within, as they listened for the approach 
 of the travellers. Nothing could exceed the motherly 
 tenderness with which Mrs. Hartwell cared for both, 
 especially Sally,— her poor tired child, as she would 
 say, when winding the soft linen bandage around her 
 ancle, but more especially where the saddle-horn had 
 
232 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 worn pretty deep into the flesh. And now supper, 
 which had waited for these necessary attentions, was 
 ready. How grateful was this repast can easily be 
 imagined, for they had partaken of an early but not 
 very sumptuous dinner, according to the Bellows' esti- 
 mation of that mid-day meal ! 
 
 It would be useless to attempt a description of all 
 the substantial and dainties that were prepared for this 
 repast ; but we must not omit the beefsteak, broiled 
 on a gridiron, set over the live rock-maple coals, on 
 the great kitchen hearth, and turned every half-minute 
 until done to a turn ; when it was put upon a long deep, 
 dish, heated hot for this purpose, then cut in strips 
 about an inch wide, and then seasoned with a shake of 
 pepper and salt, while a generous slice of butter was 
 added. This was a favorite dish for breakfast as well 
 as supper, which was always made a substantial meal ; 
 and nothing could be more appetizing, as this was 
 brought in steaming, and abounding in rare gravy after 
 the company were seated at table. 
 
 As soon as this refreshing meal was disposed of, 
 Mrs. Hartwell said Sally must come with her; so, lead- 
 ing the way up-stairs, she took her to a room, saying, 
 " This is Mary's room ; " then going to the bed, and 
 patting it tenderly, " and this was her bed ; it will be 
 very pleasant to have it occupied once more." She 
 then called to a young colored girl to bring the warm- 
 ing-pan, with a handful of sugar, which she sprinkled 
 over the coals, and, shutting it quickly, put it in the 
 bed, telling the girl to move it slowly about, and say- 
 ing to Sally, that the smoke from the burnt sugar 
 would take all the pain and soreness out of her 
 limbs, and she would be bright as a new pin in the 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 233 
 
 morning. And so, with many more soothing words, 
 she drew a chair, and sat down by her; but it was 
 only for a few moments ; for, nearly as soon as the 
 child's head touched the pillow, she was wandering in 
 dreamland. 
 
 When she opened her eyes, in the morning, and com- 
 menced emerging from the depths of this downy bed, 
 she was suddenly conscious of some one in the room, 
 and, the next moment, saw Mrs. Hartwell adjusting the 
 curtains at the window. She had come, she said, to see 
 how it was with her little girl, and was much gratified 
 to find how well her warming-pan had done its work. 
 Dressing herself quickly, she was ready to go down 
 with Mrs. Hartwell, where she found the family had 
 gathered, to listen to the morning prayer, — a service 
 that was always attended before breakfast. 
 
 The colonel was apparently as much refreshed by his 
 night's rest as his cousin was ; and this, her first day in 
 that family, whose memory was kept bright through her 
 long hfe, by often relating some incident that occurred 
 while she was an inmate of their household, was made 
 very enjoyable to her ; for she was taken all about the 
 premises, the colored girl delighted to have some one 
 help her hunt the hens' eggs in the barn ; and she was 
 greatly amused to hear Dick and old Pacer's loud whin- 
 nies, as soon as they saw their young friend, and their 
 loud calls to come back, when she left them. 
 
 Mrs. Hartwell placed no restraints upon her young 
 guest, as she chose to consider her on that first day. 
 She evidently thought that children could best enter- 
 tain themselves in their own way ; but, on the second 
 day, after completing her rounds — for she superin- 
 tended every department of her household personally — 
 
234 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 calling Sally, she said, she had been thinking it would 
 be better for her to have some light duties assigned to 
 her, and she was going to propose that she take those 
 which Mary used to attend to : one of more especial 
 importance was cutting the roses every morning while 
 the dew was on ; as she distilled them, making a quan- 
 tity of rose water every year. Another was, to draw a 
 fresh mug of beer at noon, which the squire always 
 took with his dinner, and also to dust the sitting-room 
 and have it nicely done before the time for morning 
 devotions, which were never omitted, and at which 
 all the family, with all the servants, were expected to 
 be present. There was the same observance before 
 retiring at night ; the addition of a hymn would often 
 be proposed, in which all who could sing would join. 
 When, for the first time, Sally's clear, sweet voice rang 
 out, they were all surprised and delighted ; it seemed 
 like an inspiration. She did not sing with a trained 
 and cultured voice, but she sang as the birds do, for 
 the gift of song was native as her breath ; and she took 
 great delight in the exercise of this power. 
 
 Col. Caleb's visit at Col. Hartwell's was necessarily 
 a short one ; but before he returned, the preceptor, who 
 I think was Mr. Hubbard, was invited to tea, as the 
 colonel wished to introduce his little cousin to her new 
 teacher before leaving ; he at once took a deep interest 
 in her, which was manifested as long as she remained 
 his pupil. 
 
 There were many little episodes that my mother 
 used to relate, when telling her children the story of 
 her school-life in New Ipswich. Every day was full of 
 happiness, made so by the unsparing kindness bestowed 
 upon her. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 235 
 
 At that period, stoves were nearly unknown, and 
 elderly people often used one of the sitting-rooms for a 
 sleeping apartment, during the coldest winter months ; 
 and a bedstead that could be turned up against the 
 wall was generally used for that purpose ; and it was 
 made quite ornamental, by hanging a handsome cur- 
 tain before it. At the morning and evening services, 
 it was expected, as I have mentioned, that all the house- 
 hold would be present. On this particular evening, 
 their colored girl came in somewhat weary, and, slip- 
 ping behind the curtain unnoticed, seated herself upon 
 a roll of cloth that was placed there during the day ; 
 and, probably thinking it was more restful to sit than 
 to stand during the reading of the scriptures and the 
 singing of a hymn, and then a long prayer, which con- 
 stituted the usual evening devotions, she fell asleep, 
 unfortunately, and did not wake at the close of the 
 service. When it was time to attend to the last duties 
 of the household, before retiring, she was nowhere to 
 be found. Search was made in all directions, loudly 
 calling her name, but there was no response. When 
 they returned to the sitting-room, expressing their sur- 
 prise and anxiety, the bed-curtains parted, and she 
 stood there with a look of bewildered astonishment, 
 asking what had happened. As Mr. and Mrs. Hart- 
 well were very sensible people, this girl was not sent 
 to bed with a reprimand, but with a hearty laugh ; also 
 a mild admonition not to hide again in prayer-time 
 behind the bed-curtains. 
 
 It was now June, the time Sally had waited for with 
 a pleasant anticipation ; for she was then to assume a 
 task her Cousin Mary had always performed in her 
 girlhood, and only relinquished when she left the dare 
 
236 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 old home for the new home at Walpole. This duty, 
 before referred to, was, as I have said, to gather the 
 roses, each morning, while the dew was on them, as fast 
 as they opened their lovely petals to the morning sun. 
 During her long life, she could vividly recall the de- 
 light she took in the preparation for her first morning's 
 experience in her new employment. Equipped with a 
 pair of scissors and a new and pretty deep basket, and 
 well-protected from the dew, she entered upon her 
 work with all the enthusiasm of a child, that she was. 
 Her basket was soon filled, when she returned to the 
 house from the great garden, to spread the roses upon 
 a long table prepared for the purpose ; when she be- 
 came so intoxicated with their abundance and their 
 beauty and fragrance, her exuberance was so great, 
 that Mrs. Hartwell laughingly threatened to give the 
 work to some other one who had not such a wild 
 passion for roses as she had. And when, at breakfast, 
 she related the morning's exercise to the squire, he 
 looked at her a moment, and replied, that he could see 
 no harm in a little girl so near of kin to themselves 
 having a love of flowers ! 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 It was during this month of June, information was 
 received that Gov. Strong would pass through the 
 town on his way to some place, where he was invited 
 to be present, on some particular occasion. As the 
 governor desired no public demonstrations on his way, 
 he was simply invited to breakfast at Esquire Hart- 
 well's, with a few of the leading citizens of the place. 
 It will perhaps be remembered, that the governor's 
 sister was the wife of Gen. Bellows, and their son 
 married Miss Mary Hartwell, their only child. It is 
 probable he was indebted to this relationship for the 
 breakfast which was served on this occasion. Mrs. 
 Hartwell was the queen of housekeepers ; and, as was 
 customary with New England ladies, in those days, she 
 directed this department personally. In childhood, our 
 mother related many times the story of this breakfast, 
 which she always described with great minuteness. 
 Probably it was more vividly impressed upon her mem- 
 ory for the part which she, as a young girl, took in it. 
 She said, I cannot recall the number and variety of 
 dishes that were prepared for this occasion ; but I 
 distinctly remember there was an antique vessel, of 
 some kind, filled with roses of every hue and variety, 
 placed in the centre of the table. Breakfast was served 
 at nine o'clock. Mrs. Hartwell had arrayed herself in 
 her highest crowned cap and black silk dress. She had 
 also interested herself in Sally's toilet, telling her to 
 
238 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 put on her white dimity, which was made with low 
 neck and short sleeves. A bunch of rosebuds was in 
 her hair, and a bouquet of buds fastened on her bosom. 
 They then awaited, in the proper place, the arrival of 
 their guests. The governor, with a few of his staff, 
 was escorted from the hotel by the invited citizens; 
 and, on entering the breakfast-room, he and his aids 
 were presented to Mrs. Hartwell and to the little girl 
 at her side, with great formality. They were then 
 seated at table, when the squire, in his most impressive 
 manner, invoked a blessing. The ceremonies over, all 
 seemed prepared in the highest degree to enjoy the 
 banquet so bountifully provided for them. When the 
 party rose from the table, it was announced that, before 
 they separated, the National Ode would be sung by 
 Miss Bellows and a gentleman, whose name I have for- 
 gotten. At this point of her narrative, my mother 
 would say she never sang better, for she was filled with 
 enthusiasm with which the words always inspired her : 
 " Hail, Columbia ! happy land " ; and she was accom- 
 panied by one with whom she often sang, who always 
 filled her with confidence and courage. After speak- 
 ing a few moments with Esquire Hartwell, the gov- 
 ernor came directly to her, and, taking her hand, 
 thanked her cordially for the song she had so charm- 
 ingly rendered ; saying also, that he had just learned 
 she was a niece of Gen. Bellows, his brother-in-law, 
 whom he held in high esteem, and of whom he had 
 ever been justly proud. 
 
 The six months that she remained at school in New 
 Ipswich were filled with incidents, from which she could 
 always select something to relate, which she could make 
 as marvellously interesting to our childhood compre- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 239 
 
 hension as anything she could have read from the "Ara- 
 bian Night's" entertainment. She visited in some of 
 the most delightful families of that place, where there 
 was a specially refined social circle, and also made some 
 acquaintances that were not so easily dropped. A 
 young gentleman, a graduate of that academy, by the 
 name of Emerson, was one. Her friends considered 
 her too much of a child to receive the attention of any 
 one in that way, and she availed herself of their advice, 
 — that she make no return to the ardor she had so un- 
 fortunately kindled in this most excellent, but sensitive 
 youth's heart. He afterward became a distinguished 
 clergyman in Massachusetts; and many years later, 
 when my mother's hair was silvered with age, she often 
 saw his name attached to some article she had been 
 reading with interest in her religious paper, when, with 
 a look of abstraction, she would say, " It was all for 
 the best." 
 
 Having finished her school education, she returned 
 to the old home, ever ready to give her a warm wel- 
 come, bringing with her many tender and lifelong 
 memories of those she had left, especially her dear old 
 friends, Mr. and Mrs. Hartwell. Through her long life, 
 she cherished a grateful memory of their loving and 
 unfailing kindness to her. In a few weeks after her 
 return. Dr. Sparhawk, at that time the most popular 
 physician of Walpole, although he lived three miles 
 out of the village, was called to visit one of the family 
 professionally; and, when he saw her come into the 
 room, greeting her with surprise, he exclaimed, "Well, 
 I think that I have found the schoolmarm I have been 
 looking for. How would you like, Sally, to come and 
 teach the school in our district ?" I think he must 
 
240 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 have had a wonderful gift of penetration, to discover 
 in her any of those qualities that were deemed at 
 that period necessary to make a born " schoolmarm." 
 Knowledge was of secondary importance to discipline. 
 The number of switches successfully used became qual- 
 ifications for that position. Happily, for the little 
 urchins who have their letters to learn now, public 
 sentiment upon that subject has been greatly mod- 
 ified. The little girl so suddenly called upon to an- 
 swer an important question could only express her 
 surprise that any one should think her capable of 
 teaching a school. She was persuaded, however, to 
 accept the invitation, the doctor promising that she 
 should board at his house ; and, under his protection 
 and encouragement, she got through with her school 
 with more credit than she thought really belonged 
 to her. 
 
 I think she must have been sixteen at that time, as 
 I can recall many incidents which she said occurred in 
 the summer that followed her first and last attempt 
 at teaching school. I will relate but one of these. 
 It was proposed that the young people make up a 
 party for a berrying excursion. It was in August, 
 and report said that blueberries were in great abun- 
 dance, that season, on the plains, which were about 
 three miles distant from the village. According 
 to the necessity and custom of the time, they all 
 went on horseback, carrying baskets and pails, — the 
 latter being filled with the lunch that each took ; and 
 when spread upon the grass, as they prepared for their 
 dinner, such a variety of good things were not often 
 seen at one feast. But most conspicuous was Aunt 
 Colonel's election cake, for which she had become so 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 24I 
 
 famous, and to which all were ready to pay their re- 
 spects ; but Sophia declared they should only have a 
 bite, in exchange for something they had brought. 
 Great merriment prevailed at this feast for a time, but 
 they were suddenly warned by a clap of thunder that 
 a tempest was gathering, looking at that moment very 
 portentous. All was changed ; there was nothing, now, 
 but to gather their effects, and make a hasty retreat. 
 For a few moments, all was excitement, as the storm 
 seemed rapidly approaching. To add to this dis- 
 may, the young school-teacher could not find her hat. 
 She had taken it off, and put it under a bush, where 
 she was quite sure she could go directly to it ; but 
 she was so intent upon filling her basket with this 
 favorite fruit, she had wandered farther away than she 
 was aware. All joined in the search for a few minutes, 
 when she told them to leave her, and she would soon 
 overtake them. Her brother Thomas remained, and 
 another young gentleman, who was too deeply inter- 
 ested in the situation to give up the hunt, but all effort 
 proved fruitless ; and the favorite little hat was aban- 
 doned, when the big drops began to fall ruthlessly upon 
 her uncovered head. Her brother threw her hastily 
 upon the saddle, and all three started as if upon a 
 steeple-chase, for she was a fearless rider. They had 
 not gone far, however, when she became aware that 
 her saddle-girth was loose, and she was slipping on one 
 side of her horse ; but her brother, with a dexterous 
 movement, righted her without checking their speed. 
 At this moment, all the artillery of heaven seemed 
 opened upon them, and the rain was pouring in tor- 
 rents, drenching them through. In this plight, they 
 reached home, terrifying all the household who saw 
 
242 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 them coming; for why was Sally bareheaded, soaked 
 through and through, with the water streaming from 
 her long hair hanging down upon her back ? When 
 this adventure got abroad, it was long before Sally 
 Bellows heard the last of her great loss ; reports came 
 from various sources. The little hat was sometimes 
 seen on the head of a pretty young fox, capering about 
 in the fields in great glee at his newly-found treasure ; 
 then, again, it was said to have occasioned great jeal- 
 ousy and strife among the denizens of the woods, which 
 was happily ended by the interference of an owl, who 
 captured it, and, putting it on his own head, flew up 
 into a tree so high that no rival ventured to follow him. 
 
 The following winter, in February, my mother was 
 married. It was three months before she was eighteen 
 years old. This early marriage was not fully approved 
 by some of her friends ; while a few others took a dif- 
 ferent view. 
 
 Her two brothers, John and Joseph, were in favor of 
 it. They had become acquainted with the young man 
 who had not been in town very long; but he was 
 enterprising, and soon established himself in business, 
 and was desirous to have a home of his own. And so 
 it was decided that she should be married without 
 further delay. He then purchased a pretty cottage, 
 owned and occupied by her cousin, Josiah Bellows, Jr., 
 and not long afterward she was installed mistress of 
 the household, thus assuming, at the age of seventeen, 
 the cares of housekeeping. At this period, girls of that 
 age are usually attending school, not having received 
 their first lesson in any of the domestic arts, which 
 formed part of the education of girls in those days. 
 
 I have nothing to relate in the way of a list of expen- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 243 
 
 sive wedding gifts. It was not customary, at that time, 
 for the guests to bring a fortune in the shape of 
 presents for the bride ; but I have heard my mother 
 say, she was "quite respectably set up in housekeep- 
 ing." I have reason to think that her housekeeping 
 would compare favorably with many others much older 
 than herself, for she was ambitious, and not wanting in 
 capacity to accomplish whatever she attempted. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 We will now pick up the thread of our mother's life, 
 when, after varied experiences, at the age of thirty, she 
 was left with seven children. Her tender and anxious 
 care of our childhood, and ever-increasing watchfulness 
 for our welfare in maturer years, have sometimes been 
 themes for tears as well as laughter, at her unnecessary 
 apprehensions. It is pleasant to recall the last forty or 
 fifty years of her life. We can only look upon them as 
 her long earthly repose. Free from worldly cares and 
 the unpleasant vicissitudes of life, her serene tempera- 
 ment enabled her to attain the great age of ninety-six 
 years, retaining to the last her clear intellect, and to a 
 remarkable degree her physical powers. Her children, 
 save one, were all living at the time of her death, and 
 saw in her lengthened years their most precious bless- 
 ing. Five of these had the old family names, orig- 
 inally taken, of course, from the Bible, — the youngest 
 rightfully bearing the name of Joseph. He, perhaps, 
 more than any other, inherited her exquisite taste for 
 music, and her voice also ; which, joined to his ready 
 wit, and genial humor, and versatile gifts, made him a 
 most delightful companion, as he was a most faithful 
 friend. The eldest son of the family, Lewis by name, 
 filled a large place in our circle, and has left several 
 children to inherit and transmit his sterling qualities 
 of mind and heart. He had a rare amount of inven- 
 tive genius, which he turned to valuable, practical ends. 
 
246 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 parity and adversity; yet her lieart to the end was as 
 loving and fresh as the heart of a little child, so that it 
 wras a joy always and a benediction to hear her voice, 
 so peculiarly sweet and gentle. All her worils were of 
 good cheer and kindly charity. She was ever ixitient 
 with the faults of others, and hopeful. 
 
 A beautiful quietness and serenity iiabitually leslcd 
 upon her countenance. It seemed, somehow, as if to 
 her were entrusted, unconscious to herself, messa};os of 
 loving tenderness and affection from the fathers and 
 mothers of a past generation to their children's chil- 
 dren. She retained, until aftci" ninety years of age, 
 her clearness and activity of mind, and to the very end 
 all her freshness of heart. She died, as for years she 
 had lived, — surrounded by her children, whose devoted 
 care gave brightness to her home ; and she was sus- 
 tained by a faith and hope full of immortality. 
 
 K. N. K." 
 
 The following is the letter of Dr. Bellows : — 
 
 New York, Maidi 12, 1878. 
 Mrs. E. R. Barnes, Walpole, N.II. ; 
 
 Dear Cousin Emily, — I wish, at once, to .send you and Cousin 
 Sarah an expression of my respectful sympathy in llic loss of your 
 venerable mother. 
 
 To you who have watched over her long protracted decline 
 with so much tenderness, there must be a grateful satisfaction, 
 mingled with the sorrow at the rupture of so strong and sacred a 
 bond. You both have done the best that daughters could to .show 
 your gratitude, respect, and allection for so excellent, meek, wise, 
 and venerable a mother. 
 
 Her life had been greatly extended by this watchful care, and 
 you have both had the pride and comfort of her revered presence 
 long after the period when children are commonly allowed Ilic 
 privilege of using the sacred word, mother. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 247 
 
 I really dread the effect of this loss upon Cousin Sarah, who 
 had ek,ed out her mother's life by a surrender of her own ! A 
 great care is also a strong crutch ! We lean upon it, and, when 
 it is suddenly taken away, we are unbalanced and upset. I hope 
 Sarah will escape this reaction ! I know how submissive she is 
 in her nature, and what support she will find in her faith and 
 piety. Give her my admiring regards for the beautiful spirit of 
 constancy and devotion she has ever shown to her mother, and 
 let her find consolation, now, in remembering the never-failing 
 patience and love with which she has beguiled the weariness of 
 that now released "prisoner in the flesh." 
 
 Your mother was the last link that bound the present to the 
 past in our family history ; the last of her own family of brothers 
 and sisters ! As such, her death seems to be a sort of separation 
 between this generation and the first generation of the Bellows 
 race, hitherto kept up by living witnesses. The last eyes are 
 closed that looked upon the original settlers of Walpole. I think 
 that whole heap of our dust that reposes in Walpole graveyard 
 must be stirred with the coming of the ashes of the last of the 
 original stock, — of one who has known almost all the whole thou- 
 sand said to be sleeping in that sacred mound of our race ! I 
 cannot help recalling my own father's memory with special tender- 
 ness, and Aunt Robeson's and Aunt Knapp's, as I think that the 
 only and last of that family is now, at nearly a century of years, 
 gone to rejoin her original kindred. 
 
 Your mother bears a spotless memory ! " Blessed are the 
 meek,'' who so humble, so placid, so gentle, so sweet-voiced, so 
 unexacting; and few more intelligent, more lady-like, courteous, 
 and venerable women have I known. 
 
 I recall my last interview with her with great gratitude. It 
 was her benediction. She has gone to her reward. Heaven rest 
 her weary bones, and receive her pure and childlike spirit ! 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 Henry W. Bellows. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 I WISH to recall to the minds of those who may read 
 these pages, that, in my grandfather's family, there 
 were ten sons and four daughters, belonging to his 
 household. The youngest daughter, whose name was 
 Mary, and who died in early infancy, completed this 
 number of fourteen children. I used to think my 
 grandmother, when giving this number, would always 
 name it with some degree of pride. 
 
 As I have related the incidents most vividly im- 
 pressed upon my mind, in the lives of the two eldest 
 sisters, also whatever might be connected with them 
 which I deemed most worthy of note, and interesting 
 to our kindred, and illustrating the life of those olden 
 days, I will now speak of the third daughter, who was 
 given the name of her mother, Louisa, — a name made 
 sacred to me by so many associations, and around 
 which clusters the brightest and happiest memories of 
 my girlhood. I have already introduced her in various 
 connections ; she was so inwoven with my memory of 
 those days. I can now recall how impatiently I 
 awaited her coming from her Boston home, after the 
 winter was over. She usually came the last of May, 
 or first of June, to spend the summer with her mother 
 and bachelor brother. The march of time seemed 
 never so slow as in these intervening weeks ; and, 
 when at last we reached the day of her expected arri- 
 val, how delightful was the preparation of many little 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 249 
 
 delicacies, that were not indulged in every day ! But 
 over this happiness there hung a little cloud. The 
 stage-coach, that thing of the past, was not due until 
 five o'clock the next morning. Grandmother could not 
 array herself in her daintiest cap and black silk apron, 
 and sit down with her knitting, serenely awaiting her 
 guest ; nor could I don my pretty new print and white 
 apron, that was so neatly pointed across the bottom. 
 No stage-coach was heard rattling through the street 
 when the sun was setting, bringing to us the loved one, 
 so long waited for. How could we pass a long, sleep- 
 less night, and then, just at daybreak, when our eyes 
 should have been wide open, and the front door also, 
 we be caught napping so soundly that the driver's 
 terrific knocks on the door were necessary to awaken 
 us! Now for the hurry, and skurry, — sticking our 
 naked toes into our slippers, and only too happy that 
 we did not lose both of them off, in our haste to admit 
 one whom we knew was listening for our footsteps. I 
 seem, at this moment, to hear again the clear rich 
 tones of that voice in her kindly greeting, and also 
 saying, she had been creeping three hours, at a snail's 
 pace, over these interminable hills. This last sentence 
 was spoken, as she was hastily approaching grand- 
 mother's room. The dear old lady was sitting up in 
 bed, her face beaming with delight, to see again her 
 youngest daughter, who always brought so much life 
 into the household. This was the last summer she ever 
 spent with this bachelor brother ; for another bachelor 
 had laid claim to this sister of my uncle, as I presently 
 found out ; and her brother had retrieved his loss, by 
 filling her place with another, whom I have already 
 described too minutely to need further comment. 
 
250 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 As I now look back, I can recall one incident that 
 took place at that time, which to my inexperienced 
 mind was very mystifying. I was puzzled by the sud- 
 den arrival of a stranger, between eight and nine 
 o'clock in the evening. It was a lovely moonlight 
 night in June, and we were sitting with windov/s and 
 doors open, when a chaise suddenly stopped at the 
 side-door, and a gentleman alighted. My uncle rose, 
 and at the same time I saw my Aunt Louisa suddenly 
 retreating through a door that led into the hall. This 
 was certainly a very strange movement for her, who 
 was always ready with her graceful courtesy, whenever 
 her brother received a guest. 
 
 My uncle called to Cyrus, the colored man, to take 
 care of the horse, as he went out to bring the stranger 
 in. I quickly learned, by the conversation, that, to my 
 uncle, he was not an unexpected visitor ; for he was 
 inquiring, with some surprise, why his brother John 
 was not with him ; to which he replied, that the little 
 boys had become so very tired with their two days' 
 drive, he had decided to remain with them in Keene, 
 and drive over the hills the next morning. As for 
 myself, he added, I did not choose to remain so near 
 to Walpole over night, and this moonlight drive over 
 the hills has been delightful. At this moment, my 
 Aunt Louisa entered the room, but not just in her 
 usual manner ; I was quite sure there was a little con- 
 straint in the way she welcomed our guest. My curi- 
 osity was now at its height, and the mystery deepened, 
 as I heard him say, calling her by her first name, 
 " Louisa, I owe you an apology for the part I have 
 taken in your brother John's plan, to give you a little 
 surprise ; I did not fully approve it, and notified your 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 251 
 
 brother here to do as he pleased about informing you." 
 There was a general laugh, when Uncle Abel said, he 
 saw no reason for spoiling his brother John's little joke. 
 I had watched this scene, from its beginning to the 
 end, with an indescribable feeling of injury, as every 
 word and every look caused it to dawn more clearly 
 upon my mind that this man was something more to 
 my aunt than a common acquaintance, and she had not 
 so much as whispered to me a word about it, when she 
 surely was free to tell me all. But I had not then 
 learned it was much easier to talk about the common 
 occurrences of life than these deeper and more sacred 
 sentiments of the heart. 
 
 When the old clock, that had stood like a tall senti- 
 nel in the corner of that sitting-room since long before 
 I was born, struck the hour of nine, it was an invari- 
 able custom, as perhaps I have told you before, for 
 each member of this household to be in readiness for 
 the night's rest. Grandmother, adhering to her usual 
 custom, rose, bidding them good-night ; and, following 
 her example, we went to our rooms. As soon as the 
 door was closed, she dropped into her chair, saying, "I 
 do believe there is something on foot ! " The next 
 morning. Uncle John arrived with his two boys, John 
 and Hamilton ; they were home from school, having a 
 few weeks' vacation ; and their father said, they gave 
 him no peace until he had promised to bring them to 
 Walpole. And so he had planned this surprise for his 
 sister, who had been an inmate of his household many 
 years, and had nearly the same love and care for his 
 children as their mother. I can never forget this visit, 
 for two circumstances served to stamp it indelibly 
 upon my memory. It was the first time I saw him who 
 
252 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 was to become my Uncle Knapp, — one whom I have 
 always since held in the highest respect and venera- 
 tion. And it was high carnival in that house, from 
 the time my Uncle John came until that memorable 
 visit was ended. His merciless raillery, and lively jokes 
 at his sister's expense, were dealt out more freely, for 
 the reason she had a champion quite equal to himself 
 and ready to meet him on his own ground. 
 
 I have many times regretted I did not learn more 
 about Aunt Louisa's earlier years. I think it must 
 have been an interesting period with those who had 
 the opportunity to watch her, as she merged from child- 
 hood into young womanhood. Her quick perceptions 
 and keen sensibility made her peculiarly alive to all 
 that was about her ; and then always to be noticed were 
 the remarkable conversational powers with which she 
 was gifted, to which the rich, sweet tones of her voice 
 added a peculiar charm. I remember that my grand- 
 mother, in speaking of her once, said, she was much 
 inclined to have her own way in her childhood ; and 
 her brothers — there being seven of them — had al- 
 ways petted her as the baby of the household, and 
 could never see why her wishes should not be gratified. 
 
 As some incidents in these later years of her life 
 vividly impress me, at this moment, I am inclined to 
 think her brother's views, at that time, have since 
 been entertained by others, for all that she could ever 
 wish or ask seemed ready to be brought to her hand. 
 Four or five of the first years of her married life were 
 passed in Roxbury, Mass., but ever after his very first 
 visit to Walpole, Uncle Knapp fully intended to make 
 this place his home. He was enabled, much sooner 
 than he anticipated, to realize his cherished plan. The 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 253 
 
 spot he would have chosen above all others, and which 
 fully realized his dream of earthly beauty, was for sale ; 
 and no time was lost in making it his own. It was the 
 beautiful house which had been built, at large cost, by 
 Cousin Josiah Bellows, Si, 2d, son of Col. John. How 
 clearly I can recall that bright and lovely day, when 
 preparations were being made for their reception, in 
 which we all took a lively and active part ! They were 
 received at her brother Thomas's, where they were to 
 remain until their own house was made ready for them. 
 I have a good and sufficient reason for thinking it must 
 have been the last of May, or the first of June, when 
 Uncle Knapp brought my Aunt Louisa, with their two 
 little boys, one, about four, the other, two-and-a-half, 
 years old. 
 
 Perhaps some curiosity may be awakened as to what 
 my reasons may be for giving this particular date of 
 their coming, and the temptation to tell my little story 
 that I have told verbally so often before is at the 
 present time irresistible ; and it will furnish a sufficient 
 proof that I am correct in my figures. On this mem- 
 orable day, I was assisting my Aunt Sarah Bellows, 
 Uncle Thomas' wife, in all possible ways, in her various 
 arrangements, for these dear friends ; and I took, as a 
 part of my duty, the preparation of a generous dish of 
 rhubarb sauce. It was the first we had obtained from 
 the garden that season, and therefore a rarity. When 
 this was prepared, and ready to be placed upon the 
 table, in a long cut-glass dish, I, to make sure of its 
 safety, set it upon a high shelf in the pantry, which, to 
 give point to my story, it becomes necessary I should 
 describe. 
 
 It was an old-fashioned, spacious pantry, full of cup- 
 
254 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 boards, drawers, and all kinds of convenient places. 
 On one side of the room was a cupboard with two 
 doors ; above this was a row of deep drawers, and then 
 a broad shelf, which was called a dresser; and above 
 this were four very narrow shelves, with narrow spaces 
 between them. It was upon the second shelf, above 
 the dresser, that I placed this choice dish, fully assured 
 that its height would insure its safety. We had not 
 long to wait after the dinner hour for the expected 
 guests. They came in their own carriage ; and what a 
 joyful welcome was given these weary and dusty travel- 
 lers, after their long drive of a hundred miles and more 
 from Jamaica Plain ! How delighted were the little 
 ones, to have their freedom again, after being cramped 
 in a close carriage two-and-a-half days ! They scam- 
 pered everywhere ; the youngest particularly was a 
 marvel of life and activity, which was very amusing to 
 his Uncle Thomas, who said he was nearly as large, 
 and full as spry, as a big grasshopper. In the first 
 flow of conversation, in which all were so deeply inter- 
 ested, the children for some time were left to amuse 
 themselves, but it was soon observed that the oldest 
 one was by himself ; and where could the little two-and- 
 a-half-year old one have strayed .' In a few minutes, 
 we all were searching in every direction. I could never 
 tell what led me to look in the pantry ; but, when 
 I opened the door, the first object that met my view 
 was that little fellow, stretched at full length high 
 up on the second narrow shelf, his face directly over 
 the dish of rhubarb, with which he was regaling him- 
 self with evident satisfaction. That was a sight too 
 good to be lost, and I left him to continue his repast, 
 while I called the household to come and see him. The 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 255 
 
 first exclamations were, " How did that child ever get 
 there ? " 
 
 As there was apparently nothing that could aid him 
 in climbing, how, indeed, did that child of two-and-a 
 half years get up on that high shelf ? I will here inform 
 my readers, that to this day it has remained an inex- 
 pHcable mystery. There was a little light thrown upon 
 this transaction, two or three years later, when his 
 Cousin Susan saw him, one morning, climb to the top 
 of a stone wall, several feet in height, with no visible 
 places for a foothold ; and her remark on that occasion 
 was, she had never entertained a doubt but he would, 
 some day, get into heaven. 
 
 As the subject of this little story is still living, I 
 shall hope to be pardoned for thus presenting him as 
 a culprit, — the only one of our race whom I have 
 known to receive that appellation. I have no doubt, 
 however, that the consideration of his extreme youth 
 will serve to modify the judgment of his kindred! 
 
 In the early part of the next day might have been 
 seen a small and joyous party, toiling up a rather steep 
 acclivity, but, happily, not a very lengthy one, — only 
 just long enough to complete the delightful purpose for 
 which nature seemed to have intended it. On this emi- 
 nence, situated at the southern extremity of the vil- 
 lage, stands a handsome brick edifice, which was built 
 for the oldest son of Col. John Bellows, in 1812. Much 
 satisfaction had been expressed, that this lovely place 
 was still to be occupied by one of the family, who was 
 so near of kin. The little party scrambling up the hill 
 were going to pay their first visit to this newly pur- 
 chased home. I can, at this moment, hear again my 
 aunt's voice, ringing through those empty rooms, as 
 
256 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 she called the attention of her husband to every new 
 discovery, as they went from one lofty room to another. 
 And then the spacious hall, extending through the 
 whole length of the house, from north to south, and 
 in which the little boys were in full chase, greatly 
 delighted with the clatter of their feet upon the hard 
 floor. And now the spacious drawing-room is reached. 
 The large open fireplace, made of polished marble, and 
 the beautiful landscape paper on the walls were the 
 first objects that met the eye; and these, at that time, 
 — going on seventy or eighty years ago — were cer- 
 tainly marvels of grandeur, surpassing anything that 
 had before been seen in Walpole. 
 
 From this lower hall, a long flight of stairs took the 
 explorers to the upper hall, nearly as spacious as the 
 one below, with a large window looking to the north, 
 and made with special reference to the view that could 
 be obtained from it. My aunt was the first to reach 
 this spot ; and, with an exclamation of rapture and sur- 
 prise, she turned, as I remember so well, looking my 
 uncle in the face without speaking a single word : they 
 were both silent for a moment, when- he said, with a 
 perceptible quivering of his voice, "Louisa, this sur- 
 passes anything that can be found in Switzerland ! " 
 From this window can be obtained such a view as sel- 
 dom blesses the eyes of mortals ! The village is spread 
 out before you in all its picturesque beauty ; the sur- 
 rounding hills and lovely valleys, the green meadows, 
 mountain, and river, — Bellows Falls Mountain, and the 
 beautiful Connecticut River. Here they stood for the 
 first time together, in silent admiration, neither utter- 
 ing a word to break the charm. When, at last, they 
 turned away, he said, " My vision of a home is more 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 257 
 
 than realized; I must write, Louisa, to my friend this 
 afternoon, and I must sit by this very window, if a table 
 can be improvised for me." 
 
 As despatch was a marked quality in her character, 
 it did not need a second visit to this establishment to 
 ascertain all that was necessary to be done before the 
 furniture was arranged. It was decided to give the 
 lower hall and sitting-room a fresh coat of paint. This, 
 with a slight alteration in the china closet, could soon 
 be accomplished. Jacob Brown, the man of all such 
 work, was sought ; who, as usual, engaged that it should 
 be done without delay. Our experience, however, 
 proved the contrary. When we saw this quaint individ- 
 ual, the next morning, with his brush in one hand and 
 paint-pot in the other, hurrying in his grotesque man- 
 ner, — walking a few paces, and then starting upon a 
 full run as many more, — we hastened to follow him. 
 He was soon hard at work, and we ourselves were busy 
 measuring and fitting carpets, when we were suddenly 
 conscious there was no one at work in the house but 
 ourselves. I had a slight acquaintance with this man's 
 mode of operations, — doing things by jerks, and never 
 finishing. I assured my aunt that I believed I could 
 paint that hall as well as Jacob Brown. I took the 
 brush, and went to work with a bold hand, and with a 
 success that surprised myself. When he returned, in 
 the afternoon, and found what progress had been made, 
 and that a girl had done it, he was somewhat crest- 
 fallen ; and, when told if he left it again in that manner 
 he need not return, he thought best to complete his 
 work as he had engaged to do. 
 
 We will now take a look into this lovely home, all 
 its appointments in perfect keeping with those who 
 
258 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 were to dwell in it. It was the home of culture and 
 refinement. How tasteful were all its arrangements 
 within, and how beautiful its surroundings without ! 
 And now what a throng of memories are awakened of 
 that dear old time, when there were so many to enjoy 
 the hospitality that for long years was so generously 
 dispensed there ! To friends and acquaintances, and 
 especially nephews and nieces, of whom there were so 
 many, this home had a marvellous attraction. The 
 warm and genial welcome of the host, and no less 
 kindly greeting of the hostess, were something never 
 to be forgotten ! That dear old home seemed always 
 alive with the happy ringing voices of the young people 
 of the village, all of whom seemed to share the feelings 
 of one who, in her own phraseology, said, " The toes of 
 my shoes will always turn in that direction." 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 This was also a special resort for the children of her 
 eldest brother John. During their childhood, as we 
 have seen, Aunt Louisa was a member of his house- 
 hold. Their mother died when the twin boys were 
 babies, Henry and Edward. As I take the last name 
 upon my lips, the thought of his tragic death in earli- 
 est manhood fills my heart with sadness. And Henry, 
 to whom this brother was a second self, for nearly 
 forty years kept his memory fresh and green, as if it 
 had all happened but yesterday. How much these 
 children's lives were influenced by the noble, dignified, 
 and Christian example of their uncle, and the deep and 
 tender interest of their aunt, in all that pertained to 
 their welfare, was beautifully acknowledged by the sur- 
 viving brother, Rev. Dr. Henry W. Bellows, in his 
 letters to his uncle on each successive birthday, which 
 was ever kept sacred, in memory of that twin brother, 
 thus early lost. 
 
 It was not the two youngest only, but also the two 
 eldest sons, John and Hamilton, who were the objects 
 of tender interest and care. His Uncle Knapp saw 
 great promise in the talent so early developed in John. 
 Hamilton was full of life and spirit, but shown in his 
 own peculiar way. He was wholly unlike his brother. 
 Although it is now a half-century since I saw him, 
 I have not forgotten his marvellous conversational 
 powers. Eliza, the eldest sister, who retained only a 
 
26o PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 vague remembrance of any other mother than this 
 aunt, always received the welcome a daughter might 
 have had. She had gone but a little way in her teens, 
 which must be the apology for such an amount of wild 
 exuberance as she brought with her. I have alluded to 
 her before, but I should like, if I could, to give our kin- 
 dred a perfect description of this remarkable woman's 
 personality and bright intellectual qualities. She had 
 no beauty, and needed none. Her other powers of at- 
 traction more than compensated for the lack of that. 
 As soon as she spoke, the plainness of her face van- 
 ished, and lighted up with animation, expressing more 
 than words could have done ; and she would soon sur- 
 round herself with a group of admiring listeners of her 
 brilliant conversation and sparkling wit. 
 
 I cannot forbear relating one of the many incidents 
 that I vividly remember of her young girlhood ; she 
 was not sixteen, and I think it was the first visit she 
 made to her Aunt Louisa, after coming to Walpole, and 
 the first reception given at this new home. There 
 were enough of our kindred, at that time, to make up 
 as large a party as could conveniently be entertained in 
 any one house, however spacious, — brothers and sis- 
 ters, uncles and aunts, not forgetting the great uncles 
 and aunts, and cousins innumerable. 
 
 As indicating the numbers of these kindred, whose 
 permanent home was in Walpole, say forty or fifty years 
 ago, I may mention that my Aunt Knapp, at one time, 
 said that from her parlor window, where she was sitting, 
 overlooking the village, the floor of the house just on 
 a level with the top of the church-spires, she could see 
 the houses in which could be counted sixty-five imme- 
 diate relatives. This count included five of her own 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 261 
 
 brothers and sisters, heads of families, she the young- 
 est of six children then living, and her age was nearly 
 sixty years. 
 
 At the reception, which I began to tell about, a 
 general invitation was given. How splendidly the 
 four large rooms, opening into one another and into 
 the entry, were decorated, especially the drawing-room ! 
 How elegant was that long table, reaching the length 
 of the dining-room ! I especially recall the glass pyra- 
 mid in the centre, towering up still higher with a vase 
 of beautiful flowers set upon the top. Upon this was 
 arranged all imaginable delicacies. Here, indeed, was 
 prepared a most sumptuous repast, which I will not 
 spoil by attempting to describe, but will pass to another 
 feature of this entertainment. A little surprise had 
 been prepared for the guests, by stationing in the upper 
 hall two or three persons, with musical instruments ; 
 and, at a given signal, they were to strike a lively 
 tune, and at the same time, by some magic, the lower 
 hall carpet was rolled up, and now everything was 
 in readiness for the dance. All now were on their 
 feet, and the gentlemen seeking partners. One un- 
 fortunate swain, whom I have now forgotten, sought 
 Eliza ; and she excused herself, by saying she was 
 engaged ; she then came hastily into the sitting-room, 
 where quite a number of the elderly gentlemen had con- 
 gregated, and, going directly to Uncle Squire Bellows, 
 she said, " I am in a terrible dilemma, Uncle Tom, which 
 I can't explain to you now, — you must take it on faith, 
 — but you must help me out of it, you must dance with 
 me. I can't take a refusal ! " As he was then between 
 sixty and seventy years old, and it was well known that 
 he never danced a step in his life, this occasioned a 
 
262 I'ERSONAL REMINISCKNCHS 
 
 general laugh. He quickly rose, however, most }j;r;i- 
 ciously saying;-, he " never refused a lady's a[)peal when 
 in distress," and led her with a f;reat show of t;allantry 
 on to the floor. If any were now living who witnessed 
 the wild exuberance of this young girl, as she lielped 
 her uncle through the mazes of that dance, they would 
 smile at least at the recollection ! But, alas ! of all 
 that merry throng, I am the only one left to tell this 
 story. 
 
 Well, I must not tarry too long at this shrine of 
 domestic happiness, where my heart loves so well to 
 linger, and around which cluster many of the happiest 
 memories I have brought through my lengthened life, 
 now verging toward the nineties ; I can yet vividly 
 recall so many scenes, which at the time appeared of 
 little consequence, but now so full of interest. Per- 
 haps there never was a father who found more ha])|)i- 
 ness in rearing his children than our Uncle Knapp. 
 There were no bounds to his indulgence, save in what 
 he thought would prove an injury to them. And with 
 what interest he watched the unfolding of their physical 
 and mental faculties ! An example of his indulgence 
 comes to my mind, at this moment, which will show the 
 pleasure he took in gratifying their wishes. The two 
 little boys, one three and the other four-and-a-half years 
 old, saw, one morning, something which deeply inter- 
 ested them. Their cousin was using a mortar. This 
 was something new, and must be thoroughly investi- 
 gated, as well also as the manner of using it ; and they 
 insisted upon having it, which was decidedly refused, 
 They went, with many tears, to their father, who, com- 
 ing to understand their trouble, assured them he could 
 make a mortar, and they should assist him. We saw 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 263 
 
 him depart, with the little fellows, toward the woodshed 
 for that purpose. An hour or two passed, as we sat by 
 the window sewing, when my aunt suddenly arose to look 
 for the children. In a few minutes, I heard my uncle call- 
 ing, " Louisa, I have solved many problems in Euclid, 
 and some knotty questions in metaphysics, but I think 
 this is the knottiest job I have ever undertaken." No 
 one who saw him could doubt it ; his face was very red, 
 and covered with perspiration, in his effort to make a 
 hole deep enough in the end of a hard piece of wood 
 for the boys to pound in. " Well, my dear," she re- 
 plied, playing upon the word knottiest, " the naughtiest 
 thing I see about it is, the effort you are making for 
 such an unnecessary end ; but, if it gives you an appe- 
 tite, and the boys pleasure, we will not call it so very 
 bad after all." I can never forget the unceasing watch- 
 fulness of this mother over the children, or the tender 
 and loving administrations of the father. Their man- 
 ner of discipline was a beautiful illustration of the 
 power of love and gentleness, and, as the youthful in- 
 tellect unfolded, it was delightful to listen to his long 
 conversations with them upon the various questions the 
 little fellows always had to propose ; and it was in this 
 way those two precious lives were led up to that point 
 where boyhood ends and manhood begins. And here 
 we find them prepared to enter the University in Cam- 
 bridge, where their father graduated in his early life, 
 with high honors. He had assumed the whole charge 
 of his sons' education, teaching them himself, not only 
 in all the branches they were to pursue for entrance to 
 college, but in all those virtues that dignify a noble and 
 useful life on entering the world. 
 The time was now fast approaching, when they would 
 
264 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 commence their college life. How well I remember 
 those intervening days, so full of the last preparations ; 
 and, when all was completed, as we sat in the twilight 
 of that last evening, each seeming full of his own 
 thoughts, my uncle, in a voice full of emotion, said, 
 " Louisa, this is an epoch in the life of our sons, as 
 also in our own. Our children are leaving, for the first 
 time, the home they have loved so well, and to which 
 they have given so much life and happiness ; and we 
 must now make this sacrifice, in view of the impor- 
 tance of this great change, to prepare them for the pur- 
 suits they may choose, which we will hope may lead to 
 noble and useful lives." And thus it was he sought to 
 comfort her, and himself also. 
 
 Everything seemed propitious for an early start in 
 the morning. My uncle remarked, when at tea, that 
 a mackerel sky was the sure precursor of a pleasant 
 day on the morrow ; and, as they were going to take 
 their sons to Cambridge in their own carriage, the 
 weather was worthy of consideration. The prediction 
 certainly proved true, this time, for a brighter morn- 
 ing never greeted waking eyes than that which fol- 
 lowed the preceding evening, saddened with the 
 thought of their leaving, yet made cheerful with the 
 hopes of the future. When the early breakfast was 
 over, my aunt sought the opportunity to say to Cousin 
 Susan Knapp and myself, " Bid the boys good-by as if 
 you were to see them again to-morrow ; I can bear 
 nothing more." The thought was pressing upon her, 
 at the moment, this is the first break in our long 
 happy home-life ; and, at the last moment, we bade as 
 cheerful good-by as we could simulate ; and, as the car- 
 riage wheels rolled through the gate, Susan sat down 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 265 
 
 upon the doorstep, and relieved her heart by the long 
 pent-up tears. It may be well to say here, this cousin 
 was an inmate of the household before these children 
 were born, and a daughter of our Uncle Knapp's 
 brother Benjamin ; she had enshrined them in her 
 kindly heart with a love that lasted until her death. 
 
 Well, this lovely home, although deprived of its 
 younger attractions for a time, still held a potent 
 charm for all acquaintances and friends ; and there 
 was no place more frequently sought by distinguished 
 strangers, or where they found a more graceful and 
 generous hospitality, or a richer intellectual treat. 
 There was still another charm, which to fully under- 
 stand should have been witnessed ; for any description 
 of it must prove entirely inadequate. It was the ten- 
 der and delicate courtesy my uncle and aunt always 
 sHowed each other ; it was nothing put on, for the 
 reason it had never been laid aside. Always address- 
 ing each other by some endearing 'term, the playful 
 gallantry he would sometimes indulge in nearly sur- 
 passed Chesterfield himself. 
 
 A little scene occurs to me at this moment. I had 
 been commissioned to purchase for my aunt a bonnet, 
 and had come to bring it. Taking it from the box 
 with some trepidation, lest it should not meet in all 
 respects her exquisite taste, I waited the verdict. She 
 held it up, and, turning it round upon her hand, ex- 
 pressed her approbation in strong terms ; then she 
 placed it on her head, when I saw my uncle rise, and, 
 walking across the room with the grand air, presented 
 his arm with a request that she would grant him 
 the supreme happiness of escorting her, naming some 
 place. She at once caught the spirit ; and they paced 
 
266 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 across the room once or twice, in a manner very few 
 could imitate. I think, at this time, he was eighty- 
 five or six years old, a period when such buoyancy of 
 spirit is seldom retained. 
 
 Another incident, which occurred still later in life, — 
 I think he must have been ninety-one or two : I hap- 
 pened in at the time he had just completed a letter 
 to his little grand-daughter, Louisa, in which he had 
 endeavored to impress upon her young mind, in a man- 
 ner she could never forget, the remarkable qualities 
 and virtues of her grandmother, which in earlier years 
 had kindled that flame in his own heart which had 
 never ceased to burn as brightly as on the first day he 
 saw her. He had been reading this letter to her; and, 
 when I came in, he said, ' I am now going to read this 
 to Emily." She playfully caught it from his hand, say- 
 ing, "There is too much flattery in it"; when she 
 looked up, she saw an injured expression upon his face, 
 and quickly restored the letter, saying, " Do as you 
 please, dear ; I only feared the sentiment which I appre- 
 ciate so much might suffer some loss." 
 
 I hope it will be borne in mind, that I am giving 
 these recollections just as I proposed in the beginning, 
 in no other order than as they occur to me ; were I to 
 attempt anything more, I fear many of these fragments 
 would not have found a place here. 
 
 I recall, too, another visit I made one morning to this 
 dear old house, but a very few years ago, when it stood 
 tenantless, — no living thing to be seen or heard within 
 or without. 
 
 I first wandered about the grounds. Although shorn 
 of so many of their former attractions, there were traces 
 still left of the taste and beauty that once reigned there. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 267 
 
 As I approach the door, I cast an involimtaiy glance 
 at the window, where I so often saw my aunt sitting 
 at her work, clad in her white dimitj' wrapper ; and in 
 imagination I heard again the clear tones of her voice 
 calling me to come up-stairs to her. As I enter the 
 hall, my heart takes me at once to the sitting-room 
 door, which I find open, and one glance within assures 
 me that nothing is changed, but every article kept 
 in its plac^ with religious care, just as they left it 
 There stands the vacant chair beside her pretty work- 
 table, with its crimson satin bag, sufficiently deep to 
 hold the work upon which she had busied herself. 
 Directly over this table hangs the clock, that for more 
 than half a century measured the hours of her precious 
 life. At a window near by stands my uncle's easy 
 chair, where, in dreamy meditation, or in contemplation 
 of the lovely scener) , of which he could never tire, he 
 sat many hours in the day, fully conscious of the pres- 
 ence he always liked to have at his side. 
 
 There, too, in its own place, stands the mahogany 
 bookcase, fiUed with a choice collection of volumes ; 
 and there, with the leaf of the desk turned down, he 
 always sat to write his letters. There, also, are the 
 dear old pictures I loved so well, — the exquisite en- 
 gravings, from Claude de Lorraine paintings, — still 
 hanging on the walls. But most eloquent of the past 
 is the large open fireplace, with its polished marble 
 jams, and brass firedogs, the charred brands lying just 
 as they had burned themselves out long ago. And 
 now with my heart throbbing with the old memories, 
 newly-awakened, I climb slowly up the stairs. Here, 
 too, it is obvious that, as far as possible, everything has 
 been preserved in the same manner that they were 
 
268 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 arranged by those busy hands now folded forever from 
 our sight. 
 
 As I look irtto this lofty, airy chamber, how vividly 
 I recall my first experience, sixty odd years ago, in 
 assisting my aunt to hang on this high-post bedstead, 
 still here, the dimity curtains trimmed with broad, 
 netted fringe, while w6 found it still more difficult 
 to arrange the blue silk canopy overhead. Here are 
 the old-fashioned mahogany chairs, the seats covered 
 with the traces of her taste and industry. Turning 
 from these objects of tender interest, I retrace my 
 steps through the long hall, up-stairs and down, listen- 
 ing for some sound to break the oppressive silence ; 
 but nothing comes to my ear save the echo of my own 
 footsteps, and the sound of my own voice, as I re- 
 peated the fragment of an old familiar song, that 
 seemed so applicable at that moment : — 
 
 " When I remember well, 
 
 The friends so linked together, 
 I've seen around me fall, 
 
 Like leaves in winter weather, 
 I seem like one who treads alone 
 
 Some banquet hall deserted, 
 Whose lights are fled, whose garland's dead, 
 
 And all but me departed." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 I WISH to append to the brief sketch I have given of 
 our venerated Uncle and Aunt Knapp some extracts 
 from a sermon, written on the occasion of her death, 
 by Dr. Bellows, and preached in All Souls Church, 
 New York, on his return from attending her funeral, 
 at Walpole. She died March i6, 1872, aged eighty- 
 six. Says Dr. Bellows, " This venerable aunt was my 
 father's youngest sister. She passed her girlhood in 
 his house, and, on the death of our mother in my 
 infancy, she became virtually the mother of my brothers 
 and sister. I had been at school to her husband, — a 
 most gifted and excellent man, — and for my whole life 
 enjoyed a frequent and most familiar intercourse with 
 this venerable and beautiful couple ; he closing his spot- 
 less life in nearly full possession of his mental powers, 
 three years ago, at ninety-five, and she surviving until 
 last week at eighty-six, in possession of an equally re- 
 markable understanding. 
 
 In the summer vacation, my house was within a few 
 rods of theirs ; and it was love and reverence for them 
 that drew me to the spot, and made it such a refresh- 
 ment and delight to go there season after season. 
 
 Her devotion to her husband was complete. She 
 appeared to think him perfect, which indeed he almost 
 seemed to others, and the nearest thing on earth to 
 her Saviour ; and he repaid her homage by a love and 
 gallantry, a trust and reverence, which is usually seen 
 
270 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 only among those not in daily and long contact with 
 each other. What is written in books of poetry might 
 be daily witnessed in their lives. They delighted 
 above everything in each other's society, which was 
 not the mere intercourse of habit, it was the daily and 
 hourly interchange of thought, the obvious and inten- 
 tional ministration to each other's mental and moral 
 improvement and pleasure. They read the same books 
 together, they studied the Scriptures, and discussed the 
 principles and ideas of the day, and knew all that was 
 going on in the great world of affairs, although sel- 
 dom leaving their country home. Until over ninety, 
 he worked in his garden a couple of hours daily ; and 
 then, clothed in spotless garments, he sat down to his 
 books, — the classics, and the elegant and solid litera- 
 ture of the past. He was a poet, sage, and saint, by 
 original endowment, and by culture as a student in 
 theology, and as a teacher who had had the first men 
 in Boston and Salem under his charge, — the Prescotts, 
 the Peabodys, Grays, and Amorys. 
 
 His spiritual mind, profoundly interested in the pres- 
 ent and in the actual, was equally at home in specula- 
 tion, and in aspiration. The future of society on earth, 
 for which he had the boldest and noblest hopes, and 
 the future of the soul in heaven, were his favorite 
 themes ; and on both he talked with such beauty and 
 wisdom, that his conversation up to ninety was the 
 attraction of men of taste and culture from far about. 
 She almost or quite equalled him in the gift of grace- 
 ful expression, and was fascinating and charming in the 
 acuteness, fluency, and fervor of her spirit. Together, 
 they made a couple such as I have never seen in life, 
 in respect of the high level of their intercourse, the 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 27 I 
 
 equality of their powers, and their complete and in- 
 creasing happiness in each other. 
 
 "But I will not place her by the partiality of my 
 affections in a light that may discourage imitation ; I 
 wish her example to shine in upon you, not only to dig- 
 nify and sweeten your ideas of the possibilities of 
 domestic union and blessedness, but also to bear wit- 
 ness to the possibilities of making old age green and 
 growing. 
 
 "She fulfilled the promise of the Psalmist, 'They 
 shall bear fruit in old age.' How large and full and 
 sweet the harvest was, I cannot make you know ; but if 
 you could read the gratitude and affection that swell 
 my heart, and other hearts, to whom her name is a 
 bond and spell, you would appreciate the force of all 
 the arguments I have used in this discourse, on the 
 duty and possibility of preparing in youth and middle 
 life for a happy, serene, and triumphant old age." 
 
 When copying the last words of this loving and 
 beautiful tribute to our revered Uncle and Aunt Knapp 
 by our cousin, Rev. Dr. Bellows, the thought came to 
 me, how few years elapsed, after those words were writ- 
 ten, when other lips as eloquent in praise pronounced 
 his own eulogy. From every pulpit, far and near, at 
 home and abroad, tearful voices were raised in expres- 
 sions of no common sorrow ; for one had suddenly gone 
 who it seemed, of all men, could least be spared by 
 friends and by the world. Wherever he had been — 
 and where had he not been ? — he so impressed himself 
 upon the minds and hearts of those who saw and heard 
 him they could fully realize those beautiful words of 
 scripture, "When he went up to the holy altar, he 
 made the garment of holiness honorable." 
 
272 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 And now this bright, particular star had set forever ! 
 It could no longer illumine our earthly pathway with 
 the words of hope and encouragement that so often fell 
 from his prophetic lips ; no longer can we have in our 
 midst one whose presence ever brought a thrill of pleas- 
 ure and pride, that in our race was one in whom were 
 combined so many noble virtues with such brilliant tal- 
 ents, used indiscriminately for the benefit of all that 
 came within his reach. Whoever had looked upon that 
 stately figure, clothed with a grace and charm that 
 nothing but heaven could have given him, could feel 
 surprise at the unusual demonstrations of grief, when 
 death took him whom all loved ! For indeed he was the 
 common friend of all humanity, as was witnessed when 
 he was borne away from the city where for more than 
 forty years he had ministered so faithfully to his own 
 people and to the community at large ; for no creed or 
 nationality ever set up a barrier to his kindly ministra- 
 tions, or checked the bounties of his hand. It was no 
 wonder that the heart of the great city gave such tokens 
 of grief at his departure. He was borne far away from 
 them, to be laid where his dust would mingle with the 
 ashes of his kindred. He sleeps beneath the trees he 
 loved so well, and where the last rays of our glorious 
 sunset cover his bed with their golden radiance. 
 
 Lest my own expressions in regard to Dr. Bellows 
 should seem colored by the partiality of family affec- 
 tion, I desire to make an extract from a discourse which 
 was delivered by one whose kinship with him was 
 simply that of heart and of mind. 
 
 Speaking of Dr. Bellows, he says, " Around the life- 
 less dust of him we loved was gathered a body of 
 mourners such as rarely meet to do honor to the dead. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 273 
 
 Clergymen from every household of faith, Jewish Rab- 
 bis, men of letters, philanthropists, artists, actors, states- 
 men, and merchants mingled their tears with ours. 
 Amid the throng of gifted, brilliant men that sprung 
 up on every side, he had still maintained the place that 
 he early won for himself in the foremost ranks of her 
 citizens, — not one stain upon his shield ; not one whis- 
 pered reproach upon his memory. The intense glare 
 of public life found him spotless ; and he is borne to 
 his last rest, not only by the loving arms of his relig- 
 ious disciples, but by an unnumbered multitude of loyal 
 hearts, by all who cherish the highest interests of the 
 city that is proud to claim him for her son. 
 
 " His overpowering eloquence is the first great qual- 
 ity that rises to our minds as we think of him ! What 
 pictures he could paint upon the passive soul of his 
 listeners ! How they would palpitate and start into 
 life at his word ! The images that he invoked were not 
 mere dead figures of rhetoric ; they seemed to breathe 
 and to move through the circumambient air, — mighty 
 magician, calling forth invisible spirits from far off 
 realms, obedient to his will, and endowing their ethe- 
 real substance with form and meaning. It was not the 
 grace and beauty of what he said that so affected us ; 
 I have heard as polished orators and equal masters in 
 the art of mere speech, but never one that went so 
 directly to the mind and heart. And why .' Because 
 his words were realities to him while he uttered them. 
 Not sentences, but things, emanated from his presence. 
 He looked within his own consciousness, and what he 
 saw there active he delivered to us. Unstudied, with 
 an almost reckless indiscrimination, the contents of his 
 great personality were poured into ours, and deep 
 answered to deep. . . . 
 
2 74 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 "But again, Dr. Bellows' power rested on thought. 
 He was not a profound scholar, nor a subtile logician, 
 but he had the faculty of seizing upon a subject, disen- 
 tangling its intricacies, cutting away unessential ele- 
 ments, and then conducting his hearers by broad, plain 
 channels to a practical result. His sermons were writ- 
 ten with an amazing rapidity, frequently in the few 
 hours of a single day, but they seemed nevertheless to 
 spring forth in full armor from his brain. Doubtless 
 they bore some of the defects as well as all the merits 
 of their hasty composition, but they were never want- 
 ing in arrangement, harmony, or proportion. As a com- 
 bination of spontaneity and sound reasoning, I believe 
 that they are unexcelled. The topics of which he 
 treated had been so long maturing in his rich mind, 
 that, when he did come to speak of them, all he needed 
 was the garb of language for ideas and arguments which 
 had already marshalled themselves in due order. 
 
 " His native thought-germs were also fructified by 
 contact with a wide range of men and books. His wit 
 and geniality made him the most charming of compan- 
 ions ; and from every person whom he thus encountered 
 he seemed unconsciously to absorb the best essence 
 into his own hospitable organization. The extent of 
 his reading was simply prodigious for one so preoccu- 
 pied and distracted with cares. It was recreation for 
 him, when exhausted by other labors, to plunge into 
 abstruse questions of theology or philosophy. He read 
 swiftly and eagerly, assimilating what he needed, reject- 
 ing what had no relation to himself ; but, when he laid 
 a volume down, it had been forced to yield its fullest 
 supply of mental nourishment. The infinite variety and 
 compass of his utterances and the intellectual freshness 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 275 
 
 of his old age are largely traceable to this regimen of 
 the study. He believed its discipline to be hardly sec- 
 ondary in importance to the actual ministrations of the 
 pulpit. . . . 
 
 " Once more, Dr. Bellows' power rested upon a sen- 
 sitive, generous heart. It was that which set him all 
 aflame. Touch his sympathies, and you held him. 
 How closely in him the forces of the intellect were 
 wedded to human tenderness and love ! " 
 
 Rev. Dr. Bartol, of Boston, a life-long friend of Dr. 
 Bellows, near to him almost as a brother, thus speaks 
 of him: — 
 
 ..." What was the mission of the man here named } 
 I answer. He was born to be a leader of other men. His 
 genius was not philosophic or poetic, but social. His 
 gift was fellowship ; his power, sympathy. He was con- 
 stituted to observe and study, but to read and think no 
 longer than was needful to prepare him to act. His 
 destiny was not so much to originate conceptions in 
 politics or religion as to organize and apply them to the 
 case in hand. If not a man pre-eminently of ideas, he 
 was their officer on a scale so true, in a manner so 
 lively, and through a range so various and vast, and 
 with so versatile a skill, that he may be called in his 
 aspiring an ideal man. The founder, the institutor, as 
 well as the metaphysical explorer, or the artist with 
 language, canvas, or stone for his vehicle, deserves 
 praise ; and Dr. Bellows was an incarnate, perpetual, 
 irrepealable act of incorporation in his very nature for 
 all good. Christian, public things. Consider the rank 
 and importance to the community of this faculty. . . . 
 His talent, his temper, was to mediate, harmonize, rec- 
 oncile. He admitted he was on board to trim the ship, 
 
276 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 to unfurl or reef the sail, to roll the heavy, iron-laden 
 car on trucks from side to side of the main deck, to 
 keep from careening and maintain an even keel. To 
 what was peculiar and sometimes seemed inconsistent 
 in his position, this was the key. He had no notion of 
 letting any enterprise he was embarked in, by following 
 extreme counsels or by any exclusive tendency, go to 
 excess. His mind was a compensating pendulum of the 
 theological clock. According to the wind and weather, 
 his hand moved the tiller, and made it continually veer. 
 
 " How extraordinary was his tact ! What a composer 
 of strife he was ! How worldly-wise, yet utterly unself- 
 ish in what he did and said! Not for his own sake 
 was he prudent and adroit, but for everybody's sake. 
 But in his diplomacy was no hypocrisy. He never hid : 
 he was always ready to show his hand, and there was 
 no false bottom to his mind. What a candid cunning 
 was his, how artless and astute ! An essential nobility 
 in his frame, an unfailing self-respect, an intrinsic honor, 
 a pride that could not be distinguished from lowliness, 
 and a love impossible for any wrong or provocation to 
 turn into hate, were the sustenance of his purity and 
 the secret of his strength. 
 
 " Never was a man whom abstractions were less ade- 
 quate to content. He wanted principles to be put into 
 gear. If a tool would not work, or a constitution march, 
 or a plan succeed, it might be very fine on paper, but 
 was a contrivance of no value to him ; and the sort of 
 person he in this wise was is beyond all price for a 
 Church or a State. One likes to see not only water- 
 springs far away in upland solitudes or woodland glens, 
 but cisterns and reservoirs too. The fountains suffice 
 not without service-pipes. Parnassus, Helicon, and 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 277 
 
 Siloa would be forsaken and despised, if they did not 
 flow down afar and abroad to fertilize and refresh. Dr. 
 Bellows had uncommon intellect, a fine fancy, great 
 reasoning power, and a persuasive eloquence scarce ex- 
 ceeded in our day. But all was for practice and use. 
 His metal was not for ornament : it must be coined, 
 come from the mint and circulate. Yet it was virgin 
 gold without slag or dross. He was tried in many 
 ways, but I never could see that he did not go into the 
 furnace as pure as he came out. A more perfect tem- 
 per, less capable of being embroiled, embittered, or 
 soured, of better proof against irritation or exhaustion, 
 I never have known. Was he disposed to appear and 
 lead.' Never was like ambition conjoined with more 
 marked ability or a fitter gift. Indeed, as ' Talbot ' in 
 the play showed his proportions only when heading his 
 soldiers' troop. Dr. Bellows was himself completely only 
 when in company, on the platform, in the desk; and 
 was lost or bereft if left utterly alone. From a sympa- 
 thetic audience, or perhaps single companion some- 
 times, his own genius came. His magnetic presence, 
 open countenance, beaming eye, animated gesture, and 
 melodious voice, — every one of his properties, — would 
 have been a talent wrapped in a napkin but for the 
 assembly or committee, convention, conference, or insti- 
 tute he consulted with and addressed. Else, he would 
 have been as helpless and unmusical as an ^olian harp 
 without a breeze. He must not be laid on the table, but 
 put into the window when the wind blew ! He was 
 resonant ; not 'a voice in the wilderness ' : he responded 
 like Memnon to the sun. 
 
 "Because he was constituted so much by and in this 
 correspondence with others, and had, as he told me, a 
 
278 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 great deal of the woman in him, as his understanding 
 was suited to or undertook no virile tasks of systematic 
 speculative toil, but met with matchless equipment of 
 wit and eloquence every occasion as it came, therefore 
 he has left no one literary monument which can dis- 
 close to us the full measure of his strength. He was 
 as one all the time prepared for actual emergency, no 
 matter how public or private it might be. He answered 
 the door-bell of every summoils of human need. With 
 equal competency and the same satisfaction, he helped 
 obscurely or was a hero on the stage. . . . 
 
 " The feeling at his demise is not only of grief, but 
 dismay, as if the pilot were overboard on whose orders 
 the safety of crew and passengers depends ; or, to use 
 the prophet's ancient figure, the standard-bearer of 
 an army had fainted and fallen on the field. . . . Dr. 
 Bellows was a servant of morals, religion, country, and 
 philanthropy rather than a special or original contribu- 
 tor to theological truth. In opinion, he held less the 
 straight course of a steamship than one of tacking like 
 a sailing-vessel, which, though zigzag, yet makes head- 
 way across the sea. But his was no skiff turning to 
 and fro on a creek. How majestically, with all its 
 lurches, his frigate came up to the wind ! . . . 
 
 "The deep religiousness of the man explains his 
 deeds. Every kind or measure of work has, in a right 
 intent, the same worth. But he has extraordinarily, by 
 his gifts and their manifestation, affected the age in 
 which he lived. Yet who more than he prized his own 
 kith and kin .' Some persons care not for their geneal- 
 ogy. Of these, he was not one. Bellows, — belles eaux, 
 beautiful waters, — that is the name ; and a hand up- 
 lifted in the air, and pouring from a cup, is the escutch- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 279 
 
 eon and the shield. The Bellows Falls his ancestry- 
 gave the title to furnish a curious and apt suggestion 
 of the pure, rapid, and wholesome stream in their de- 
 scendant's career, beneficent as the flood, clear as the 
 light, and open as the day. . . . His remains were 
 taken to Walpole in New Hampshire, the home of his 
 ancestors, and his own summer home,* and lay there 
 over night in his familiar study, with watchers of his 
 friends and kin in the next room. How silently ticked 
 the clock ! At the funeral, before the burial in that 
 town, all the stores were closed. . . . 
 
 " My conclusion is that Dr. Bellows will stand in his- 
 tory, and have long repute in our American country, 
 not as the discoverer or signal illuminator of any truth, 
 but inventor of methods, founder of associations, de- 
 viser of ways and means, mover of his fellows to his 
 proposed ends, adventurer of church reform, strategist 
 in time of war, not to destroy but save life, in the bold- 
 ness of his operations showing the old heritage of Nor- 
 man blood, which for something better than battle he 
 was born with and of again, philanthropist in every 
 diverse, ingenious, and manifold way of doing good, 
 believer in God, sanctified by his spirit, and consecrated 
 to his will." 
 
 I shall conclude my reference to our cousin Dr. Bel- 
 lows with the following extracts from a discourse de- 
 livered by Rev. James Freeman Clarke, whose estimate 
 of men and things is always based on calmest thought 
 and keenest discrimination : — 
 
 "I can hardly think of any man whose departure 
 from the midst of life would leave such a vacancy in 
 
 *A large delegation of his New York parish came on to Walpole to take part in these 
 final, farewell services, under the guidance of Dr. Bellows' life-long friend and devoted 
 parishioner, William M. Pritchard. There had previously been a funeral service in his 
 own church in New York. 
 
28o PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 our society. ... All the amenities and all the humani- 
 ties of life caught inspiration from his vicinity. Every 
 one interested in art, literature, education, moral and 
 social reform, felt strong from knowing that his elo- 
 quence was near to help them. He could be checked 
 by no sectarian prejudices: he could not be deterred 
 by any partisan resistance, nor daunted by great names 
 opposed to him. His courage was indomitable ; his 
 zeal for justice and humanity always to be relied on. 
 Years of untiring devotion to the best interests had 
 accumulated in his mind a great power. . . . He illus- 
 trated the heroism of which man is capable to-day. 
 This is the chief work of the hero of our times — to 
 set his face like a flint against popular falsehood. Dr. 
 Bellows did not follow, though he often led, the multi- 
 tude : he was ready to oppose any man at any moment 
 when he thought him in the wrong. I remember his 
 withstanding Webster to his face, and denying his con- 
 clusions, when the great statesman said in his pres- 
 ence something which seemed to him too much like a 
 concession to slavery. . . . 
 
 " He was a born preacher. He showed how a 
 preacher may mold and direct opinion in such a city 
 as New York, just as Chrysostom did in Constantinople 
 and as Latimer did in London. . . . 
 
 "The essential element in heroism is the readiness 
 to attack difficult problems. This Dr. Bellows had, 
 and it came from deep convictions. It was by faith in 
 God that he did so much. He was a grand type of 
 religious convictions. Although of an inquiring mind, 
 and reading everything of interest that was published 
 on controverted points, he never let go his hold on the 
 foundations of Christian faith. His anchor was a pro- 
 found Christian experience." 
 
Rev, Dr. HENRY W, BELLOWS. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 How vividly, in connection with this mention of 
 Dr. Bellows, do I recall at this moment a scene that 
 reaches far back to a certain bright morning in May, 
 more than half a century ago, when the air was filled 
 with the fragrance of early blossoms ! My Uncle 
 Thomas had risen at daybreak, and I had also to await 
 the Keene stage, due at five o'clock. It was to bring 
 two little passengers from Boston, ticketed for Walpole, 
 and intrusted to the care of the driver. Their father, 
 wishing to give these little boys, Henry and Edward, 
 twin brothers, the benefit of country air during the 
 summer, had sent them to his brother Thomas. We 
 soon heard the shrill blast of the tin horn, the usual 
 warning of approach of the stage, and our uncle stood 
 at the gate when they arrived. I can see him now, 
 tenderly taking the sleepy, weary, and dusty little fel- 
 lows from the stage, leading them to me, as I stood on 
 the door-step. I took them to their room, brushed the 
 dust from their jackets and trousers, and bathed their 
 faces ; which Edward had the courage to tell me had 
 not been done before since they left home. Henry 
 was more shy ; both, however, looked about as if they 
 were realizing a little too keenly that they were in a 
 strange place, and with those whom they had never 
 seen before. They were ten years old, and this was 
 the first time they had left their city home. Our Aunt 
 Sarah, who was so bright and cheerful, and, we may 
 
252 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 add, so lovely, was soon down stairs, and spoke such 
 kind and tender words as quite reassured the little 
 boys. After being refreshed with a nice breakfast, it 
 was proposed they should go to bed for two or three 
 hours, and make up for the lost sleep ; but they evi- 
 dently had much rather keep their eyes open, and 
 be looking around ; so they had permission to go 
 about the premises wherever they liked, and amuse 
 themselves in their own way. Our uncle, sitting 
 by the window, watched them with interest for some 
 time, and then took up his morning paper. A few 
 minutes had elapsed, when I saw him suddenly lay 
 down his paper and hasten to the door. There was 
 Henry standing alone in the yard, and evidently in 
 trouble. When asked where his brother was, bursting 
 into tears, he replied, " Ned don't like Walpole, and has 
 started for home, and I am afraid he will get lost." 
 The little fellow had evidently been thinking how he 
 could impart this information, and yet save his brother 
 from rebuke. His uncle took him merrily by the hand, 
 saying, " We will go and bring Edward back, and I am 
 sure you will both very soon like Walpole." When 
 reaching the foot of the hill, that turns from the main 
 street, the runaway was found and captured, behind a 
 wood-pile that was close to the highway. He was soon 
 induced to return willingly, when his uncle told him 
 how much he had in store for their pleasure ; and he 
 devoted himself wholly to them during that day. He 
 procured for each a small hoe, and, taking them into 
 the garden, he marked off a square piece of ground, 
 which they might plant and take care of wholly them- 
 selves, and he would buy all they would raise on it, and 
 pay them in silver. This was surely something new. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 283 
 
 and required no small amount of instruction, for the 
 handling of any implement of labor was a novel experi- 
 ence to these children ; but they entered with none the 
 less enthusiasm into their work, which proved a source 
 of lasting enjoyment. Their waiting for the product 
 of their toil was something to be remembered, taking 
 them out of their bed many times at an early hour in 
 the morning to see, as Henry would say, "what might 
 have happened in the night" ; and, when the first seed 
 peeping from the ground bade them good-morning, 
 their joy was not to be restrained. 
 
 It took but a few days for these little fellows to 
 become deeply interested in country affairs. The mar- 
 vellous discoveries they often made required much 
 explanation ! They were not satisfied with merely see- 
 ing ; they wished to know all about it, showing at this 
 period an unusual desire for knowledge. Their first 
 Sunday in the country was a memorable day to me. I 
 recall the pride I had in taking them to church, in their 
 blue cloth suits trimmed with gilt buttons, but made 
 in a very different style from the present time, — their 
 trousers coming down to the instep, and buttoned on 
 to the jacket round the waist ; a broad collar, that 
 formed a part of the shirt, and which was trimmed with 
 a linen cambric ruffle, three inches in width, laid in fine 
 plaits, and turned down upon the back, tied in front, 
 with a blue ribbon to match. Knowing that, as stran- 
 gers from the city in a country meeting-house, they 
 would be sharply criticised, I looked them carefully 
 over, to make sure all was right ; but I recollect I had 
 a feeling of regret that, being twins, their faces were 
 so unlike : otherwise, there was little difference. At 
 that time, there was both a morning and afternoon ser- 
 
284 I'I'.l'SONAr, KKMrNISCKNCKS 
 
 vice; and, as the cliiirch was a mile dislruit from the 
 village, attctidaiice upon both s(;rvi';es occiipicl prcUy 
 much all the day, when we chose to walk, as it hapijened 
 on this day. The little boys were deli^^'Jite'l with the 
 idea of clirnbirjjj; the Ion;/; hill, ujion the lop of whieh 
 stood the rneetint^-house, near the ed^e of a fonjst 
 stretching far and wide. In the sfjring and e;irly i,iir;j 
 mer, when the woods were fresh, aijd all tlie world 
 seemed new and charming, the young people often put 
 some crackers in their poekets, and (;assed liie two 
 hours' intermission roaming about in the 'dge of this 
 grand old wood, or sitting urjder the giant oak:, and 
 chestnut trees that stood near the meeting-house, their 
 long branches affording ample shell er and shade. 
 
 Our uncle and aunt readily asserjted to my [proposal 
 to be allowed to remain with the ehildren until the ser- 
 vices of the da.y were over, and, as fhe others were to 
 ride, a generous basket of luneh was j>ut up, which they 
 could carry in the chaise-tjox, for our benefit, .So, at 
 an early hour on that bright sweet rnorrjing in May, we 
 set out with all the fresi;ness of ehildhood, — for / was 
 but a child myself, —and the blessedrjess of youthful 
 vigor and strength, to walk up this long aseent without 
 a thought of fatigue ; bilt so exhilarated were the i;oys 
 by the clear, braeir/g air, so full of oxygerj, 1 found 
 some difficulty in restraining tiie exuberanee of ray 
 young eornpanions. i'-dward was bound to give ehasc 
 to every butterfly, and, when passing a house that 
 stood near the highway, where an old hen with a very 
 young family was providing breakfast for Ihcm, i.dward 
 attempted to make a more close investigation of her 
 domestic affairs, which was furiously resented, the old 
 hen flying at once into his face. Jfenry went tjuiekly 
 
TERSONAL REMINISCENCES 285 
 
 to the rescue, no thought of his own safety seeming to 
 have crossed his mind. Our observation soon disclosed 
 the fact, that Henry was always a shield and protector, 
 forgetting himself in the presence of others' danger or 
 trouble of any kind. He would save Edward from 
 harm or blame when possible; not because he was him- 
 self superior, but it was always Edward who got in 
 danger, and always did the mischief. After assuring 
 myself that the children's eyes were not pecked out, 
 and securing Edward's cap, that disappeared in the 
 fray, we proceeded on our way to church, and stepped 
 into the vestibule just as Mr. Apollos Gilmore was 
 winding the rope round his arm for a pull upon the bell, 
 which for nearly half a century he had rung on Sunday 
 and every week-day, both at noon and at nine o'clock 
 at night. 
 
 We were quite early ; very few had entered the 
 church when we took our seats in one of the square 
 pews near the pulpit. I looked at the boys, to see how 
 they were impressed with the great, high-up pulpit and 
 the deacon's pew under it, built in so as only to have 
 the tops of their heads exposed to view. Edward had 
 discovered the hinges on each individual seat, and stood 
 up experimenting upon his own, lifting it up and down ; 
 while Henry, with a show of authority, bade him sit 
 down, which he only did after I explained it all to him. 
 His next discovery was the open work round the tops of 
 the pews, seeming to have been especially designed to 
 give children an opportunity to take a peep at their neigh- 
 bors, and to have something to play with during the long 
 sermon time, — a privilege of which Edward soon availed 
 himself. People were now fast assembling, for the tones 
 of the last bell were dying away, when a family from 
 
286 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 far over the hills, with a number of youngsters, arrayed 
 as only the genius of country people can fix up the 
 little ones to go to meeting, took their seats in the pew 
 adjoining ours. This proved an irresistible attraction, 
 and I saw, with dismay, that Edward seemed intent 
 upon mischief ; but our uncle and aunt came into the pew 
 at that moment, to my great relief : he took the little 
 boys into his own keeping, with a significant smile as 
 he looked at our aunt. Uncle Thomas was always more 
 amused than annoyed with Ned's mischief, which was 
 never wanton, but perpetrated in a spirit of roguery 
 and fun that was hard to resist. 
 
 When the morning service was ended, the children 
 were told to come out to the carriage, and take their 
 basket that was brought for us. I soon joined them, as 
 they stood in waiting, and led them to my favorite 
 tree, — an old oak, that looked as if it might have stood 
 there for centuries. It was certainly tall enough, and 
 its branches wide enough, to give shelter and shade to 
 a much larger number than those who were now about 
 to refresh themselves under its inviting canopy. How 
 bright and happy were those two young faces, as they 
 helped me take from the basket the generous quantity 
 of dinner, and particularly when we found something 
 at the bottom that was intended for a pleasant sur- 
 prise! It was a small bottle of metheglin, — a very 
 choice and delicious beverage made with honey and 
 other things I have forgotten, as I have never tasted it 
 since my girlhood. I have not forgotten, however, with 
 what keen appetites the little fellows partook of this 
 repast, looking so attractive as we spread it out upon 
 the ground. 
 
 After refreshing ourselves, there were many frag- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 287 
 
 ments remaining to be disposed of, and Henry pro- 
 posed that we should prepare a banquet for the squir- 
 rels. Perhaps he didn't call it by that name, — more 
 probably supper, — but by any name it would be just as 
 sweet to those pretty creatures, running about in the 
 woods everywhere around us and close to us. The 
 proposition was readily assented to, and the boys com- 
 menced gathering the acorns that lay plentifully about. 
 Although they had fallen from the branches the pre- 
 ceding year, many were in perfect preservation ; and, 
 with much enthusiasm, they commenced filling the tiny 
 saucers — the acorn cups — with choice bits, placing 
 them on the ground and in all the little nooks they 
 could spy, gleefully anticipating the surprise of the 
 squirrels, when they should return from their wander- 
 ings through the day to the old tree, in the depths of 
 which they were probably born, and find their dainty 
 supper ready and awaiting them. 
 
 Henry grew quite animated at the thought of this 
 unexpectedness, as he chose to express it, and would 
 like to have remained to witness the curiosity the 
 squirrels would manifest when investigating this new 
 article of food; but we had already lingered so long, at 
 our repast and the preparations for the squirrels' sup- 
 per, that very little time was left for our walk in the 
 woods, and it was finally decided to leave that for 
 another time. 
 
 Once, in later years, after he had become a Doctor 
 of Divinity, when talking with me, Henry recalled the 
 incidents of this day, his first Sunday at church in the 
 country with his brother Edward, — all of which he 
 recollected perfectly as one of his joyous days. But 
 now it awakened memories evidently too painful to 
 
288 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 dwell upon ; the wound that never could be healed on 
 earth, made by the untimely death of this twin brother 
 — his other self — was opened afresh. The scenes in 
 their young life were too vividly brought to mind for 
 him to regain composure without a struggle. 
 
 A few more years, and these children of so much 
 promise are graduates of Harvard, prepared to enter 
 upon the study of their professions ; each was permitted 
 to choose for himself. 
 
 It was no surprise that Henry should have chosen 
 the ministry, for which he always seemed so eminently 
 fitted ; while Edward was equally fitted for the bar. He 
 only lived long enough to prove he had not mistaken 
 his vocation. 
 
 The beautiful tribute paid to his memory by our ven- 
 erated Uncle Knapp, in 1854, when the monument to 
 our noble ancestor. Col. Benjamin Bellows, was conse- 
 crated, will afford more knowledge of this sad event, 
 and also give to our readers a more perfect idea of the 
 character and brilliant qualities of this young cousin. 
 I copy it here. 
 
 After a few preliminary remarks. Uncle Knapp said, 
 "There is one grave I cannot pass in silence ; my heart 
 demands an utterance. In that grave rest the remains 
 of a gifted son of the family and of the name. Many 
 of you remember his commanding person and manly 
 bearing. His mind was of a high order; he seized 
 subjects with a strong intellectual grasp. Truth had 
 in him a champion ; falsehood was quickly stripped of 
 its counterfeit robes, and its deformity exposed. Nat- 
 ure had formed him for an orator and statesman. In 
 addition to the properties just named, he had an ardent 
 temperament, a strongly marked countenance, good 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 289 
 
 memory, brilliant imagination, deep, well-toned voice, 
 and graceful gesture. He was a well-read lawyer, and 
 acquainted with the civil and political history of our 
 country. He had at his command playful humor, sting- 
 ing sarcasm, and keen-edged satire. Had he lived, the 
 halls of Congress would have listened to his eloquence, 
 and the confidence of the public have been secured by 
 his integrity and firmness. 
 
 "Just as he entered upon the stage for a life of use- 
 fulness, in the western wilds, far from any habitation, 
 and in the discharge of an arduous professional duty, 
 the curtain of life dropped, and concealed him from 
 our view. His grave is solitary. No friends nor kin- 
 dred lie near him ; the winds, yea, the pitying winds 
 of heaven, as they breathe among the trees of the dark 
 western forests, mourn the sudden fall, and continually, 
 night and day, sing a requiem over the early grave of 
 Edward Stearns Bellows, a twin brother by birth and 
 in spirit to the gifted orator of the day." 
 
 It seems most especially fitting, to speak here of 
 another grave. It was made far from the dark western 
 forest, to which our thought involuntarily turns. In 
 that grave was laid the lovely form of one, to whom 
 this twin brother's heart had long been pledged ; and, 
 had he lived, she would have borne his name, and shared 
 his fortunes. When the sad tidings of his sudden death 
 were broken to her, the shock proved too great for her 
 gentle, loving spirit, and from that time she faded away. 
 
 I can never forget how tender and deep was the sym- 
 pathy his family gave her, sending for her to attend 
 church with them on the Sabbath following the arrival 
 of the sad news, the father supporting her on his arm 
 to a seat with his wife and children, thus acknowledging 
 
290 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 her a daughter of his household. Many hearts were 
 deeply touched, when they saw this stricken family 
 take their accustomed seats ; but, for this drooping, 
 smitten flower, there was a rain of tears ! 
 
 She was the daughter of Josiah Bellows, 3d, who was 
 distinguished for his manly beauty and for his energy 
 as a leader in the business community. He was the 
 son of " Uncle Si," of whom I have spoken ; hence, 
 grandson of the founder. 
 
 There is nothing in our history that awakens more 
 saddened thoughts than the memory of this lovely 
 family, so untimely swept away by that fatal disease, 
 consumption, which they inherited from their mother. 
 Her maiden name was Stella Bradley, daughter of 
 Gen. Bradley. She died first ; then followed the three 
 daughters, in all the fresh young beauty of their girl- 
 hood. Stephen Rowe — and who that saw can ever 
 forget that handsome boy .' taking with him the ex- 
 uberance and beauty of his childhood into his earliest 
 manhood — was the next to follow, thus completing the 
 desolation of a father's heart and home ! 
 
 After a lapse of time, Col. Josiah, as he was called, 
 sought another companion to brighten his desolate 
 home. He married the widow of Dr. Alfred Hosmer, 
 whose, brother. Dr. Hiram Hosmer, had married Phoebe 
 Bellows Grant, the grand-daughter of Gen. Benjamin 
 Bellows. But it was not long after this before Col. 
 Josiah died, leaving with its widowed mother an infant 
 son ; who now, in manhood, is living with his charming 
 family in the old mansion, the only surviving represen- 
 tatives of that refined and delightful household. As a 
 lawyer, judge, and citizen, he renders faithful service to 
 his native town, and receives that respect and confidence 
 which were wont of old to be given to those of his name. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 When preparing to make a call, this morning, I was 
 suddenly and strongly impressed with a desire to say, 
 " I am going up to Cousin Caleb's " ; just as we used 
 to say ; for nearly all who lived in the village at that 
 time were cousins. Waking from this dream, I found 
 I had been travelling backward more than sixty years, 
 and the house I was intending to visit was owned and 
 occupied by those, who, if they have no claim to kin- 
 ship, have certainly a claim to gratitude for the perfec- 
 tion in which this old landmark is kept, both without 
 and within. Should a dry leaf, or straw, borne on the 
 breeze, drop upon grass-plot or gravel walk, we should 
 pick it up at once, hiding it away in our pocket ; there 
 could be no other place to put it. As this old family 
 residence is but a few rods from my own dwelling, I 
 often find myself recalling the scenes of earlier years, 
 when our Cousin Caleb, for whom this house was built, 
 occupied it with his wife and a family of twelve boys 
 and girls. Those near my own age were my school- 
 mates and familiar friends. Strong, the eldest child, of 
 whom I have a dim recollection, was killed by being- 
 thrown from a horse, when very young. Mary Lyman 
 and Phebe were my companions. In those years, how 
 full of buoyant life and activity was that household ! 
 Mr. Dickinson, who was Parson Fessenden's colleague, 
 and at his death installed over this parish, made his 
 home in this family until Mary, whom he saw grow 
 
292 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 from babyhood to childhood, and from that to woman- 
 hood, became his wife. He took her to the parsonage, 
 which was near the old meeting-house on the hill, in 
 which he continued to preach until his death ; and 
 there they reared a large family of children, who by 
 their lives have honored their parents. Most of them 
 are scattered through the West, where their spirit of 
 enterprise took them ; one. Dr. William Dickinson, is 
 to-day a valued and influential physician in St. Louis. 
 Another daughter marrying Dr. Barr, of New Ips- 
 wich, found her home for life, by happy coincidence, 
 near the delightful home from which her mother had 
 gone, years before, as a bride, upon her beautiful 
 "Sappho," by the side of Col. Caleb Bellows, to adorn 
 and bless his own home in Walpole. She carried with 
 her to New Ipswich not only the affection and interest 
 of all the long list of Walpole kindred, but likewise a 
 character and gifts of mind and heart inherited from 
 both her father and her mother, which made her, what 
 she proved to be, the helpful physician's wife, the 
 active and sympathizing neighbor and friend, the wise 
 and devoted mother of her children. And these chil- 
 dren, and even their children following them, are to-day 
 filling places of trust and duty with an ability and faith- 
 fulness which, though probably never once thought of 
 by them, came down from the old original New Ipswich 
 home of Col. Hartwell, but " by the way of " Walpole. 
 And it is pleasant to be able to add, that New Ipswich 
 still retains its hold upon the affections of the family ; 
 some residing there permanently, others seeking there 
 a summer home. Mrs. Ames, one of the daughters of 
 Mrs. Barr, and mother of Prof. Ames, of Cambridge, has 
 just been building there a delightful summer residence, 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 293 
 
 surrounded by charming scenery and more charming 
 associations. 
 
 The youngest of the many children of Aunt Caleb 
 were twins, Caroline and Charles. She, in her girl- 
 hood life was full of attractive beauty ; her married life 
 was spent mostly at the West, distant from her native 
 place, where we who remained in the old town almost 
 lost sight of her, though from time to time she, with 
 her sisters, who were also distant, made pilgrimages to 
 their birthplace, to renew their love and allegiance. 
 
 We must not fail to mention the devoted and effi- 
 cient service which the brother, Charles Bellows, ren- 
 dered during the Civil War, as one of the agents in the 
 field of the U. S. Sanitary Commission : I am told by 
 Mr. Knapp, who was the Associate Secretary of the 
 Commission, and in whose department of " Special Re- 
 lief" Charles labored, that he was unwearied day and 
 night, in his work for the sick and wounded soldiers. 
 Here he spent his time and strength, and, like so 
 many who were engaged in that same arduous work, 
 died soon after he finished this valuable service. 
 
 Aunt Caleb Bellows stood high in the religious com- 
 munity. She was well-read in the civil and religious 
 history of the day, while at the same time she was a 
 most efficient housekeeper. 
 
 I had many opportunities to verify the stories told 
 me in childhood of the way this house was furnished, 
 at the time of their marriage, as I was familiar with 
 every part of the house. 
 
 I think the long array of brass kettles could not 
 have been exaggerated, looking, it was said, "like a 
 full company of soldiers in bright uniforms ; " for any 
 size that was desired was always at hand. 
 
294 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 The closet, in which the sets of choicest china were 
 arranged, would be a feast for any one in this later 
 generation who has a love for antiquities. One of the 
 sets, I recollect, was so transparent that objects could 
 be discerned through it, and the cups were most dimin- 
 utive in size. 
 
 The number of feather beds that were said to be 
 provided was probably correct ; provision was made, 
 not only for the present, but future emergencies. In 
 that age, people were not supposed to be comfortable 
 on straw and hair, as in these degenerate times ! and 
 springs were unknown ; so that twenty-six feather beds 
 were none too many for family use, reserving the 
 usual number for spare beds. 
 
 The saddle which was placed upon her beautiful 
 Sappho, and upon which she rode from her native 
 town. New Ipswich, to Walpole, at the time of her 
 marriage, bore many evidences, when I used to see it, 
 of its original beauty at the time. Phebe, who was 
 tall and finely proportioned, filled her mother's place 
 in the saddle, and was usually one of the party who in 
 the pleasant summer time made frequent and long 
 excursions on horseback. I used to watch for her 
 appearance at the appointed hour ; and, punctual to 
 the moment, she would be seen turning from the foot 
 of the hill on to the main street, seated upon Mr. Dick- 
 enson's 'sorrel colt walking upon his hind legs, and 
 pawing the air with his forefeet ; but she was not in 
 the least intimidated, for she would manage him per- 
 fectly, and as no other one could. Then, riding across 
 the common to Mr. Stone's residence, Fanny and 
 Sophia Stone, with one or two young gentlemen, 
 would join the party, which usually numbered six or 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 295 
 
 eight. As I now recall this family, on whose memory, 
 as you see, I love to dwell, then so prominent in our 
 large family circle, I think there were none who stood 
 higher in the estimation of the Christian community 
 than this one. 
 
 At one time, when paying a visit of two or three 
 days, I can distinctly remember how deeply I was 
 impressed with Aunt Caleb's manner of leading the 
 morning devotions, in the absence of Mr. Dickinson, 
 who always assumed that duty when at home. Her 
 reading of the Scriptures seemed to give it a new sig- 
 nificance, and her extemporaneous and heartfelt prayer 
 was eloquent and impressive ! My young mind was 
 filled with great reverence and respect for this gifted 
 woman. Her tall, erect figure now rises before me. 
 Her face was not handsome, but strongly marked with 
 intelligence, varying in expression, when conversing 
 upon her favorite themes, and always emphasizing her 
 conversation with one of her forefingers. 
 
 I remember that my Uncle Abel Bellows held her in 
 high esteem, not only for her own personal qualities, 
 but as the wife of his Cousin Caleb, with whom in his 
 early life he so long had companionship ; for he had 
 his home in the general's family while employed in his 
 uncle's office. Soon after his marriage, I heard him 
 say, one morning, that while waiting for his sister 
 Louisa, who was coming before they had their wedding 
 reception, there was one family whom he wished to 
 invite for an informal visit as an especial mark of his 
 friendship ; and so the Col. and Mrs. Bellows were the 
 first invited guests after his marriage, and I thought 
 my uncle manifested a good deal of pride when pre- 
 senting his handsome wife to these cousins. 
 
296 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 A few more years, and the colonel died, leaving the 
 greater number of this large family still at home ; and, 
 as time elapsed, these children one by one drifted away, 
 and widely apart from each other, and from the place 
 where in infancy they were cradled. One sad event I 
 recall, in this connection, the death of their son Ly- 
 man, in the far West. He seems to have gone, full of 
 enterprise, beyond the pale of civilization, taking with 
 him a young wife, who was soon called upon, far from 
 any human habitation, to bury him with her own hands, 
 and return alone over the long waste to her eastern 
 home. As years went on, and children were married, 
 or were called away, silence and loneliness came to this 
 house of Uncle Caleb's that so long had echoed the 
 ringing voices of so many happy friends and children. 
 And so it was that Aunt Caleb, a widow now, left the 
 dear old home, and built a small cottage in which, with 
 fewer cares, to pass the remainder of her days. Here 
 her old friends did not forget to visit her, always richly 
 entertained by her originality of thought and expres- 
 sion, retaining to the last, as she did, all those char- 
 acteristics which marked her earlier years. The angel 
 of death had visited this family circle many times ; but, 
 whatever sickness or affliction came, this strong-minded 
 woman's faith in the goodness and mercy of God was 
 never for a moment shaken ; she seemed prepared for 
 all the vicissitudes of life, calm and self-possessed under 
 all circumstances. I shall ever retain the memory of 
 my last visit to her; she spoke tenderly of my mother, 
 recalling some incidents in her early life, and assuring 
 me of the affection and esteem in which she had always 
 held her. She was, at that time, suffering with a serious 
 trouble in one of her eyes, which gradually grew worse, 
 and eventually proved the cause of her death. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Since I laid down my pen, another picture of the 
 old times comes to me ; so I will go back from where I 
 last was wandering, and turn to this. It was the morn- 
 ing after an evening party, given for the entertainment 
 of some strangers who were visiting in Walpole, that I 
 heard my Aunt Louisa inquire of her brother Abel, 
 with whom she was conversing, if he was aware of the 
 sensation, when their brother Thomas brought in his 
 wife, leading her to the hostess, who presented her to 
 these strangers. He replied, that was nothing unusual ; 
 she was always the cynosure of all eyes, when entering 
 a room where many persons were present. Her tall, 
 elegant figure moved with queenly grace, her face beam- 
 ing with all the sweetness and gentleness of her nature. 
 Her costume always seemed a part of herself. It was 
 a common saying, that Mrs. Maj. Tom, as she was 
 usually distinguished from others of the name, could 
 not array herself in anything that was not especially 
 becoming ; her personal charms were wholly independ- 
 ent of dress or adornment. I have never, in my long 
 life, seen but one who could compare with her for regal 
 beauty and elegance, when in full dress. I can, at the 
 present moment, recall many comments I have heard 
 after a party, but more especially when a ball was given 
 in honor of some distinguished guest ; for, at that 
 period, it should be recorded, this grand old town paid 
 the old-time courtesy to strangers, never failing to give 
 
298 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 honor to whom honor was due ; and on such occasions, 
 and they occurred often, it can easily be supposed she 
 was a star of the first magnitude. There was always a 
 thrill of expectancy apparent in the whole assembly 
 when Maj. Thomas appeared with the one upon his 
 arm that all were looking for. And then such a buzz 
 of admiration, with here and there an audible excla- 
 mation of, "How superbly she walks!" and nothing 
 could be more true, for she moved with an air and grace 
 that no one could imitate. 
 
 All this was in the fresh bloom of her young beauty, 
 before any of life's sorrows or misfortunes had come 
 to her, and her sweetness and affability to all were her 
 shield from envy or jealousy from any source. Her 
 first great sorrow was occasioned by the loss of her 
 only child, a little girl of six years, to whom she had 
 given much of her own beauty and loveliness. This 
 was a terrible blow both to the father and mother ; and 
 it was only when another little daughter, two or three 
 years after, was placed in her loving arms, that she par- 
 tially recovered her cheerful ways ; but the old playful 
 manner, so delightful to her friends, was lost forever. 
 
 To this little one was given the name of her mother. 
 I used to think, it should have been Solace instead of 
 Sarah ; for she was like the balm of Gilead to that 
 mother's wounded heart. Her babyhood was lovely, but 
 still more so her childhood. To her remarkable intel- 
 ligence was added a passionate love of music ; and, at 
 the age of four years, she would sing little songs with 
 her father ; but more especially I remember the beau- 
 tiful hymn, commencing, " So fades the lovely bloom- 
 ing flower." 
 
 This hymn was sung at the funeral, when the dear 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 299 
 
 little sister was laid away forever from mortal sight ; 
 and, during the few years her father lived after her 
 death, this was the sacred song of the household. The 
 mother unfortunately had no ear for music, but her soul 
 was full of sentiment ; and, when my uncle and little 
 Sarah were singing this, she could not restrain herself 
 from joining them, and it can well be supposed it was 
 not always in perfect chord ; but, putting his arm about 
 her, with sometimes a tear glistening in his eye, he 
 would say, "Dear little mother, you may sing with us ; 
 it is sweet and lovely to me." She would then look 
 tenderly and gratefully into his face, saying, " O, Tom ! 
 how good you are ! " 
 
 Soon after this little daughter had reached the age 
 of five years, her father was taken suddenly ill, a'nd 
 died within two days. I can never forget that scene. 
 The agonies of a lifetime seemed concentrated in those 
 few hours ! Many feared this terrible blow would for- 
 ever deprive this sufferer of her reason, but it showed 
 how much can be suffered, and yet we cannot die. 
 
 And now this little daughter, always so precious to 
 this loving mother, became the one object for which 
 she seemingly cared to live ; and there are a few still 
 left who witnessed the devotion of this mother's life to 
 her child. She had imparted to her somethin-g of her 
 own loveliness, but in form g.nd feature she resembled 
 her father more. How well I remember her babyhood 
 and her most interesting childhood, made peculiarly so 
 by that charming mother bestowing such a wealth of 
 love, in her own vocabulary of endearments. And noth- 
 ing was lost upon her ; for, with such enthusiasm as we 
 seldom find in childhood, she reciprocated all this lov- 
 ing tenderness ; and this beautiful intercourse of mother 
 
30O PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 and daughter ever remained the same, in womanhood 
 as in childhood, for their lives were inseparably woven 
 together. A kind Providence so ordered, that, when 
 this daughter's marriage took place, instead of losing 
 her child, a son was added to this pleasant household. 
 As I now look back upon that home, of which I have 
 so many treasured memories, I see again that form, 
 which more than seventy years had no power to rob of 
 its native grace, and that fair face beaming with kind- 
 ness, as she gave you a cordial welcome in her own 
 sweet, silvery tones ! And how distinctly I recall every 
 lineament of that brilliant daughter's face, and especi- 
 ally her ardent and impulsive nature, leading her some- 
 times into the wildest exuberance of feeling ! At such 
 times, one appealing look from her mother was suffi- 
 cient to restrain this seemingly irrepressible vivacity, 
 in which her husband, if present, was always ready to 
 join ; for no one could enjoy it more than he. And, 
 when the scene became still more enlivened by his 
 quaint humor, her mother would remind them of the 
 old saying, that " Our happiness and misery are meas- 
 ured to us in the same basket," and hoped their great 
 mirthfulness would not be followed by the same meas- 
 ure of sorrow. 
 
 But this pleasant and attractive home had its allotted 
 share of afflictions. Twice the angel of death visited 
 this household, bearing away, each time, a bud of beauty 
 and promise, leaving only two of the four little ones to 
 comfort the bereaved parents. And now a sad misfor- 
 tune came, which all who knew her deeply felt. The 
 dear grandmother, one morning, in playing with her 
 little grandson, fell and broke her hip, making her a 
 cripple the remaining years of her life. The sweet 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 30I 
 
 patience and fortitude with which she bore this calam- 
 ity was a lesson to us all ; and, when she was able to 
 occupy the chair in which she could transport herself 
 about the room, loving friends and acquaintances were 
 nearly always in attendance upon her, which was seem- 
 ingly considered by them as a peculiar privilege. 
 
 There was one window in her sitting-room, looking 
 out upon the sidewalk, beside which her chair was 
 always placed ; it was her favorite seat. Well do I re- 
 call that sweet smile and bow of recognition, we always 
 looked for when passing there. As I think of the 
 number of years she was in that spot, and of that look 
 of sweet resignation while sitting there through the 
 long weary days, it has often occurred to me, how beau- 
 tiful, if that could have been made a memorial window. 
 
 As this mother and daughter were inseparable on 
 earth, it seemed an especial interposition of Providence 
 that death should not break this sacred bond. When 
 the dark messenger came for her whose care was now 
 so necessary to this mother who was fatally ill with 
 pneumonia, the whole community was shocked by this 
 unexpected blow. And now the question arose, who 
 can tell her that the daughter who was bending lovingly 
 over her pillow but a few hours ago is dead } It will 
 kill her ! But they were mistaken ; she received the 
 intelligence calmly, as if her spirit was already in 
 another world with the one just gone, although her 
 body was still lingering here. It need not be told how 
 tenderly it was cared for, while it was permitted to 
 remain. 
 
 As soon as possible, after receiving the sad intelli- 
 gence, one hastened to her bedside from afar upon 
 whom she had bestowed a mother's love from babyhood, 
 
302 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 and had ever kept enshrined in her heart as a daughter. 
 It was a great joy to her to hear once more in her own 
 loving terms the sacred name of mother, and receive 
 again from her lips the caressing kisses of her child- 
 hood. But oh, what a mingling of joy and sorrow, to 
 meet thus after years of absence ! She had come to 
 take the last look upon the face that ever wore a smile 
 for her, and bid the last adieu to her with whom she 
 had been in infancy intrusted by that mother in heaven. 
 
 As this daughter left her own family ill, she was soon 
 summoned home, leaving to other, but not less tender 
 hands the duties she had assumed, but which were not 
 long needed after her departure. 
 
 No one, perhaps, ever left this community whose 
 loss was more deeply mourned than she whom her 
 friends and acquaintances always distinguished by the 
 endearing name of Aunt Sarah. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 It has been said that the Bellows race had no nat- 
 ural taste for literature. My observation leads me to a 
 different conclusion. There are as many, proportion- 
 ately, in this family who love books as in any family I 
 have ever known. Perhaps we can number as many 
 by this name or of this descent who have attained 
 honor in the professions as of any family in New Eng- 
 land. The college catalogues of Harvard, Yale, and 
 Hanover contain the names of some twenty or more 
 of the descendants of the old colonel, — all of them, 
 almost without exception, sound and thorough scholars, 
 and entering the learned professions. And to-day, as 
 I write, it happens that three of these are Professors or 
 Instructors at Harvard College, Cambridge : one, a dis- 
 tinguished Professor in the Law School ; the second, a 
 Professor of Chemistry, who is quoted as authority in 
 Germany, as well as in America ; the third, as Instruc- 
 tor in that branch of the college called the Lawrence 
 Scientific School. Several others, at this very time, 
 are at the head of well-known private institutions of 
 learning ; while many more are engaged successfully in 
 teaching. And with these last two classes may fitly 
 be included the names of several of the daughters of 
 the family, — women whose scholarship and success as 
 teachers are marked and acknowledged : one, having 
 established and now conducting what is perhaps the 
 most popular and admirable school for young ladies in 
 
304 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 Boston; another was one of the first graduates with 
 highest honors, of "The Annex," at Cambridge : she is 
 now, as I learn, a Professor of Languages in a Female 
 College. And of those who are not teachers, but were 
 marked for their literary attainments, I need but men- 
 tion two or three. Rev. Dr. Bellows, who was not only 
 a pulpit orator, but an original, bold, and brilliant 
 writer, — the author of several valuable published vol- 
 umes. A discriminating critic, speaking of him, says : 
 " Dr. Bellows' literary productions were marked by 
 lucidity, ease, richness of imagination, beauty and force 
 of diction. He was an artist who painted rapidly, but 
 imparted with every stroke a degree of finish." With 
 Dr. Bellows as a writer and author, we may name also 
 his elder brother John, whose contributions to various 
 magazines were always marked by grace, freshness, and 
 an earnest tone of humanity ; nor must we omit in this 
 list Judge Henry Adams Bellows, noted for his terse, 
 forcible, and classical style. 
 
Judge H. A. BELLOWS 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 As I write the name, of Judge Bellows, — Cousin 
 Harry, we always called him, — I am led to turn again 
 to, my recollections of him, which are most vivid, as 
 connected with his boyhood and early manhood. 
 
 When old enough to attend school, his father, Maj. 
 Joseph Bellows, was living upon the great Rocking- 
 ham farm, six miles from Walpole, just above Bellows 
 Falls, and the school there was too distant for the frail 
 little fellow to attend during the winter season : so he 
 was brought, with his sister Eliza and brother George, 
 who were several years older than he, to our Uncle 
 Abel's, who lived a short distance from the old brick 
 schoolhouse, where so many of us received our first 
 lessons. At this time, also, there were here two of 
 our Uncle John's sons, — John and Hamilton, — making 
 altogether a pretty lively household. Dear old grand- 
 mother, she could never have had such control as she 
 secured over those wild spirits, if she had not become 
 thoroughly versed in the ways of boyhood when bring- 
 ing up her own ten sons ; and we had no reason to 
 doubt her ability to preside over this bachelor home, 
 full as it was of boys, although she was approaching 
 her eightieth year. 
 
 At this time, Harry, as he was called in his boyhood, 
 was ten years of age. I can distinctly recall the little 
 fellow, at this moment, sitting astride a long cricket 
 that was always placed on one side of the large fire- 
 
3o6 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 place. He found this convenient to hold his books as 
 well as himself ; and this also was grandmother's cor- 
 ner, and she liked his company. He was not fidgety, 
 but absorbed in his book, which seemed to afford him 
 more pleasure than any play ever did. His elder 
 brother George, who had a very different temperament, 
 would sometimes call him lazy, when he refused to join 
 in the frolics that were usually going on between sup- 
 per and bedtime ; but his gentle nature and sweet, 
 expressive face were his shield against any serious per- 
 secution, and beside, he was sure of a powerful ally in 
 his grandmother. It was seldom, however, that any 
 appeal to her became necessary, for he was a favorite 
 with all the cousins, as well as with Becky, the cook. 
 His turnover was seldom forgotten, when she made 
 pies ; and, when she fried pancakes, it was Harry she 
 would call to come and get the crimps. This was a 
 name he adopted for the scrawls that would break off 
 and fry up crispy, which he particularly liked ; and, as 
 I also had a taste for them, a lively scramble would 
 sometimes take place for the greater share ; the scene 
 being made still more lively with Becky's shouts, who 
 was in an agony of fear lest her floor would get spotted 
 by the crumbs. The kitchen floor was of white oak, 
 and her especial pride. Nothing could surpass it in 
 whiteness, after one of her scrubbings ; and woe to any 
 child who made a track, or was so unfortunate as to 
 spill anything upon it ! such an one was sure to receive 
 the whole vocabulary of her anathemas. 
 
 Whenever the boys wanted some indulgence that was 
 granted only occasionally, it was always Harry who 
 must seek permission of their uncle ; they knew it was 
 seldom he was refused, for he was as much a favorite 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 307 
 
 with his uncle as with themselves ; and it was only 
 once, as far as I can remember, that he was ever re- 
 buked. Our uncle, at that time, was suffering greatly 
 with dyspepsia, and, after a hearty supper and a sleep- 
 less night, trifling things even would disturb his equa- 
 nimity in the morning. Cyrus, the colored man, had 
 lived there long enough to understand his duties under 
 all circumstances ; and, when he heard the early foot- 
 step overhead which had so much significance to him, 
 he would open the sitting-room door, and say, " Boys, 
 has the fire got a good blaze.'" And then, coming in 
 with an air of importance, to assure himself, he would 
 add, " You know Mr. Bellows must have a good fire 
 this cold morning, special." It was on one of these 
 mornings that Cyrus left the fire blazing after his own 
 idea of perfection, when Harry thought he would lay 
 on one more dry stick, to make it still brighter ; but, 
 unfortunately, he took a green one from the wood-box, 
 laying it on just long enough before his uncle opened 
 the door to nearly extinguish all the brightness of the 
 fire. Cyrus was called, to give an account of negli- 
 gence ; but that was more than Harry could bear ; his 
 native sense of honor and justice gave him courage, 
 and he told his uncle that Cyrus had a good fire and 
 that it was he who had put it out, explaining how he 
 had done it. He was told, rather spicily, not to meddle 
 again with Cyrus' work. After waiting a moment, the 
 little fellow said, with all the simplicity of a child, 
 " Uncle Abel, did your supper hurt you, last night .' " 
 It was very apparent the inquiry was perfectly under- 
 stood. 
 
 It was very evident, at an early age, that Harry had 
 no taste for life on a farm ; and his father, while he 
 
3o8 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 lived, gave him all the opportunities possible for acquir- 
 ing an education ; but, before he had reached his twen- 
 tieth year, his father died, materially changing the con- 
 dition of the family. Harry entered the Law office of 
 Mr. William Bradley, in Westminster, with whom he 
 was a great favorite from childhood. 
 
 I distinctly remember the first suit he conducted, 
 which took place before he was admitted to the bar. 
 Somebody killed somebody's dog, and damages were 
 demanded for the outrage. Mr. Bradley undoubtedly 
 took the case, and gave it to Harry for the purpose of 
 calling out his rare wit and humor. It was long before 
 the plea of this boy-lawyer was forgotten by those who 
 heard it, and none had a more hearty laugh than Doc- 
 tor Morse and Uncle Abel when reading Thomas Fes- 
 senden's report of it, in the Bellows Falls paper. 
 
 My memories of this cousin are of his early years, 
 before either of us had reached mature life ; after which 
 our paths widely diverged, and I was permitted to see 
 him but once after he was crowned with the honors he 
 so nobly won. 
 
 He had a right by inheritance to the rare qualities 
 which he possessed. Of his father, Maj. Joseph Bel- 
 lows, I have already spoken ; he was not merely an 
 accomplished military officer, but a man of force and 
 of character, and of charming social instincts. Harry's 
 mother was Mary Adams, of Lunenburg, daughter of 
 old Parson Adams, who was a cousin of John Quincy 
 Adams. She was a woman of great originality and 
 brightness of intellect, with a peculiarly quaint way of 
 expressing herself. Wherever Aunt Mary appeared, 
 there were sure to be scintillations of wit, which gave 
 flashes of light through the room. Cousin Harry, as 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 309 
 
 we have mentioned, married a daughter of Uncle Si, 
 and he preserved the old family names, by giving them 
 to his children, — Stella, Fanny Ann, Josiah, and John ; 
 the last filling an important position in Portland, Me., 
 as a Unitarian minister. 
 
 I cannot give a more adequate idea of the estimation 
 in which our cousin Harry was held than the following, 
 taken from one of the many tributes paid to him at the 
 time of his death. 
 
 "Judge Bellows was in his seventieth year, and had 
 been on the Supreme Bench many years, and Chief 
 Justice the last five years. 
 
 " His death, though sudden and unexpected, could 
 hardly have been happier, or under more propitious 
 circumstances. It is difficult to speak with moderation 
 of virtues as great and numerous as his. Of a calm, 
 mild, and balanced temperament, endowed with an un- 
 derstanding of sound, serious, and staple strength, a 
 heart sweet, kind, and tender, and a will firm, patient, 
 and unwavering, he had lived a life of untiring indus- 
 try, persistent devotion to duty, and unselfish discharge 
 of all domestic, personal, and public obligation. 
 
 " Excellent as his intellectual powers were, his moral 
 faculties were still more marked. He had the judicial 
 qualities in perfection, — a simple sense of justice, an 
 absolute freedom from self-seeking, a thorough candor, 
 and a perfect fairness of spirit. Clothed in unaffected 
 dignity, free from arrogance or pride in person and in 
 bearing, he drew the confidence and commanded the 
 reverence of all who knew him. 
 
 "He was as simple in life, and as ascetic in taste 
 and habits, as if he had belonged to the earliest days of 
 the Republic. 
 
3IO I'l'-.RSDNAI, UHMINISCHNl'IOS 
 
 "Profoundly rcHgioiis, ami inlcicsU-d in lihri.il Chris- 
 tianity and in public worship, he set an CNaniplc of (hi- 
 most unaffected dcvoiitncss, and showed I he sincriily 
 of his faith by a life of unspotted purily and exallcd 
 moral fidelity. At a time when jicrsonal nohleneKS 
 does not always accompany even judicial irink, his 
 example is of pre-eminent worth. 
 
 "Of the mingled love and revercnec in which he was 
 held by his children and personal friends, we dare nol 
 speak as our heart prompts. Suffice it to say, that no 
 father ever left a more frat;ranl herilat;c of saintly vir- 
 tues to his children, and no long life that has fallen 
 under our observation eould be truly said lo he of more 
 consistent and ))erfeel ('hrislian proportions." So ends 
 this tribute to one who to the author of it was Jud.ne 
 Bellows, but to all the kindred was " Cousin i larry." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 There was another member of that family to whom 
 we are mdebted for contributing his share of honor to 
 the name he bore. Dr. George Bellows was worthy a 
 place by the side of his distinguished half-brother, Chief 
 Justice Bellows. He was his senior by a number of 
 years, and, at the commencement of his practice, he 
 won such fame as would have honored a much older 
 practitioner. Those who knew him best prophesied he 
 would soon stand among the first in his profession ; but 
 the hopes of his friends and the community in which 
 he settled were soon ended, by his sudden death, 
 caused by hemorrhage of the lungs, brought on by 
 exposure and overwork. 
 
 It is more than half a century since he left his 
 earthly home, and more than sixty years have passed 
 since I saw him ; and yet, should he stand suddenly 
 before me in the same habiliments, and all the fresh- 
 ness and vigor of his voung life, I should need no intro- 
 duction, but say, as I did on that memorable morning, 
 " George Bellows, where did you come from .' You 
 must have dropped from above," so clearly is his image 
 stamped on my memory. He had been attending a 
 course of medical lectures, at Harvard College, and had 
 just returned. 
 
 As I look upon this name, I realize that I am the 
 only one left of all his kindred who can have any knowl- 
 edge whatever of his childhood, so let me recall it. I 
 
312 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 can distinctly remember the time when we were receiv- 
 ing our first lessons together at school, and when we 
 got our new Webster's "Spelling Book." How sweet 
 the fragrance of its damp, fresh leaves, as we turned 
 back the bright blue cover, revealing to our eyes those 
 mystic characters printed on its first page in two 
 straight lines, the length of the book ! How often, as we 
 trudged along hand in hand, we stopped to regale our- 
 selves with one more sniff of the lovely odor, getting 
 much more out of the book in this way that we could 
 appreciate and enjoy than we did in the struggle that 
 followed, when trying to inhale or absorb its contents. 
 
 At that period, it was not unusual to send children 
 to school as early as three years of age. I was hardly 
 that, and George was between four and five when he 
 was deemed competent to take me to and from school 
 which was but a short distance from our two homes. 
 It was a few years later, when Uncle Joseph left Wal- 
 pole and went to reside on the Rockingham farm, as I 
 have already stated, that he brought the children — 
 George, Eliza, and Harry — to their old home, to at- 
 tend the winter school. This privilege, however, was 
 not long granted them. Their father was taken sud- 
 denly ill and died ; leaving his hopes of a happy and 
 successful future unfulfilled, and but limited means for 
 the education of his sons. It can easily be imagined 
 with what difficulties these two, George and Harry, 
 made progress in what became their chosen pursuits ; 
 but they fully verified the old adage, that where there 
 is a will, there is a way ; and the effort through which 
 they reached such eminence as they both attained adds 
 another laurel to their wreath of fame. 
 
 When the account of the Family Gathering, in 1854, 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 313 
 
 was printed, there were added to it a few pages, entitled 
 "Our Recent Graves"; written, as was understood, by 
 our Uncle Knapp. From that I make the following 
 extract concerning the one of whom I have just been 
 speaking : " Few family circles have in one generation 
 more of worth, promise, and beauty to deplore than our 
 own. Who of us can forget the scientific attainments, 
 the natural qualifications for his profession, the charm- 
 ing personal attributes, the early fame, and the large 
 promise that were prematurely buried in the grave of 
 Dr. George Bellows, son of Joseph .'' Had he lived, he 
 would have been one of the most distinguished ornaments 
 of the medical profession, as he was already the idol of 
 the neighborhood, and the pride of his family. His 
 last sickness, ministered to by the love of friends, who 
 hurried from Walpole to his bedside, cast a gloom 
 over a wide circle of kindred, with whom his memory 
 is still green, though nearly thirty winters have beaten 
 on his grave. The sweet voices of his sisters, Eliza 
 and Fanny Ann, the last of whom died in early woman- 
 hood, are also hushed, but continue to sing on in the 
 ears that loved their heart-music." 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 In connection with this mention of Judge Bellows 
 and of Dr. George Bellows, his brother, I may also fitly 
 set forth more fully something which I only briefly 
 referred to, when speaking about the character and 
 peculiar services of our Cousin Henry, Rev. Dr. Bel- 
 lows ; and it is something which ought not to be 
 omitted. 
 
 It is concerning what he did for his country and for 
 humanity as the originator, the organizer, and the Pres- 
 ident of the United States Sanitary Commission, during 
 the War of the Rebellion. By many persons, it is re- 
 garded as the great work of his life, beneficent and 
 noble as had Ween his labors in his own profession. 
 
 I have been furnished with an account of what the 
 commission was, by our cousin, Mr. Frederick N. 
 Knapp, who was associated with Dr. Bellows in this 
 work during the entire four years of the war. He says, 
 "The plan, which Dr. Bellows designed, and so success- 
 fully carried out, was not merely a humane work, it was 
 conceived in the spirit of patriotism and broad statesman- 
 ship. The design was, that through an organization 
 of citizens, indorsed by Government, the arm of war 
 should be strengthened, by protecting the soldiers from 
 disease, and caring for the sick and wounded, through 
 the voluntary aid and contributions of the people, addi- 
 tional to what Government itself might do. It aimed 
 not to supplant, but to develop and support, the reg- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 315 
 
 ular medical and military authorities and methods ; to 
 stimulate the departments having the charge of food 
 transportation, camp equipage, and drainage ; and in- 
 cite them by wholesome criticism and counsel and by 
 force of public opinion to do their utmost for the pre- 
 vention of disease and needless exposure of every kind. 
 How to accomplish this without interfering with exist- 
 ing machinery was the problem first to be solved. 
 
 Dr. Bellows saw the need, and thus the opportunity ; 
 and he seized upon it without an hour's delay, and with 
 a strong hand. Hardly had the first gun been fired at 
 Sumter, when he summoned for council several of the 
 leading men of New York, and laid his plan before 
 them. He advised that they at once repair to Wash- 
 ington, to inform themselves, from correct sources, of 
 what the Government could do and would do, and what 
 might be allowed to citizens to undertake. They were 
 convinced that, in this moment of National emergency, 
 the provisions for meeting the relief work of a great 
 army were entirely inadequate. 
 
 A draft was made of powers to be asked for from the 
 Government, and on June 9, 1861, the United States 
 Sanitary Commission was ordered by the Secretary 
 of War, and approved by President Lincoln. They 
 promptly elected Dr. Bellows as President of the Com- 
 mission ; secured as their General Secretary and chief 
 executive officer, Fred Law Olmsted,* acknowledged to 
 be one of the ablest organizers, probably, in the coun- 
 
 *Dr. Bellows himself thus acknowledges his large indebtedness to Mr. Olmsted. 
 He says: "The burden of the labor fell upon the general secretary at the head of the 
 central office at Washington. Mr. Fred Law Olmsted occupied this post for the first two 
 years ; and it is not too much to say, that he impressed his genius upon the Commission, 
 which had originated with others, in such a way as to make it doubtful whether without 
 his iine power of organization, his influence with subordinates, his experience in great 
 undertakings, and his extraordinary powers of concentrated attention upon what he un- 
 dertakes, the Sanitary Commission would have survived its youth." 
 
3l6 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 try ; issued their appeal to the people ; started their Aid 
 Societies all over the country ; engaged their corps of 
 assistants, and then entered upon their four years' 
 campaign. 
 
 All this was the work of but a few days, such was 
 the impulse given it by the one who conceived and 
 started it. Money and supplies flowed in from every 
 town and hamlet. Dr. Bellows went to many of the 
 great cities, far and near, East and West, month after 
 month, and year after year, and by his eloquent appeals 
 enlisted the masses. And, while arousing their sympa- 
 thies for the soldiers, he also kindled their patriotic 
 ardor, and nerved them for the sacrifices necessary for 
 the continuance of the war. . The value of his service 
 in this last direction is of a kind that can never be 
 estimated. Wherever he had been, uttering his words 
 all afire with patriotism, the recruits for the army were 
 more ready, and even eager, to enroll their names. 
 Thus through his agency was the fighting force itself 
 strengthened. 
 
 So wise and comprehensive was the plan of this San- 
 itary Commission, with Dr. Bellows at its head, and 
 at its heart too, and so thorough and efficient in its 
 working, that it secured at once the co-operation of 
 millions of the loyal citizens at home, and reached out 
 its help to every regiment, every hospital, and every 
 battlefield, during the entire war. It carried succor to 
 more than a hundred and fifty thousand sick or wounded 
 soldiers, often finding them before the more cumbrous 
 machinery of Government, controlled by strict, but per- 
 haps necessary, army regulations, could be brought into 
 service ; and in nujnberless classes of cases of need or 
 suffering calling for aid, for whose relief Government 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 317 
 
 had made no provision. By its presence and its de- 
 mands, the Sanitary Commission stimulated Govern- 
 ment itself to care for its soldiers, and to provide for 
 its hospitals, as otherwise it never would have done. 
 It was an organization such as never existed before in 
 any nation, and could exist only in a Republic. It was 
 the hand of the citizens at home reached out to the 
 citizen soldier in the field ; or, as some one expressed 
 it, it was "the great artery, bearing the people's love to 
 the people's army." 
 
 And, moreover, what was of vast significance, it 
 served to stimulate the idea of nationality, in distinc- 
 tion from local or >State interests. It was a " United 
 States " work ; it refused to recognize any narrower 
 lines. Whatever was placed in its hands must be for 
 all soldiers alike, wherever there was need. Its seven 
 thousand aid societies, representing at least seven hun- 
 dred thousand earnest workers, poured in their gifts to 
 a common storehouse ; and those seven hundred thou- 
 sand hearts were cemented, and the very base of the 
 Union made more firm. 
 
 And so it is recorded by one who has written of the 
 war with rare discrimination pointing to the time when 
 Dr. Bellows and his associates secured the organiza- 
 tion of the Sanitary Commission : " The wisdom and 
 devotion of one man gained on that day, for suffering 
 humanity, the greatest relief ever perhaps wrought out 
 by any human organization." 
 
 Rev. Mr. Stowell, in his commemorative sermon, en- 
 titled " The Beloved High Priest," preached soon after 
 the death of Dr. Bellows, makes special reference to 
 his connection with the war and his work for the sol- 
 diers and for the nation. After speaking of Dr. Bel- 
 
3l8 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 lows' power as a preacher, and his potent influence in 
 the cause of liberal Christianity, and also of his won- 
 derful conversational powers and his unfailing cheerful- 
 ness of heart, Mr. Stowell goes on to say, " Great solid 
 rifts of New England granite lay beneath that playful, 
 sunny, and luxuriant exterior. By his splendid gifts, 
 he took care of the temple, that it should not fall, and 
 built it from the foundation to the double height. But 
 not for this did he neglect the buttresses of Jerusalem, 
 nor for this did he remain idle when armies thundered 
 at the gates of his beloved country. Can we who 
 were present ever forget the Sunday when was brought 
 to him the message that the firing on Sumter had 
 begun, and that vast congregation rose with streaming 
 eyes to sing our National Hymn ? We remember, too, 
 how from week to week, as the tide of battle rolled 
 uncertain between the conflicting hosts, he would hurry 
 back to us from the field, the hospital, or camp, or 
 from solemn councils at Washington, with tidings of 
 re-assurance to our doubting hearts. Omnipresent, un- 
 remitting in toil, zealous, practical, and hopeful, then 
 did he reveal the fundamental stratum of his charac- 
 ter, the ability to suffer and to do. The vast scheme 
 of the Sanitary Commission, inspired and organized by 
 him, gaining in a few months, by the skill and efficiency 
 of its management the unbounded confidence of the 
 wives and mothers whose heroes it protected ; relying 
 upon no official patronage for support ; out of the vol- 
 untary contributions of the people distributing in the 
 course of its existence the enormous sum of five mill- 
 ions in money, and fifteen millions in supplies, with no 
 check or serious embarrassment in its thousand-fold 
 operations, here is the grandest monument to his mem- 
 
^-., -^., 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 319 
 
 ory ! Every detail and ramification of its complex ma- 
 chinery was familiar to him : now remonstrating with 
 the prejudices of a conservative medical staff; now in- 
 specting the sanitary arrangements of hospital and camp ; 
 now forwarding supplies to a proper destination ; and 
 ever and anon sending out his thrilling appeals for aid. 
 
 What an hour was that in which he returned from 
 the Golden State of California, with her patriotic offer- 
 ing of over a million of dollars in his hand, which his 
 eloquent appeals had called forth ! " 
 
 On June 2, 1886, there was unveiled, with appro- 
 priate ceremonies, a bas-relief statue of Dr. Bellows, 
 erected in All Souls' Church, New York.* It is said to 
 be the most beautiful work of art, of this sort, in Amer- 
 ica. The unveiling was by the hands of Dr. Bellows' 
 two little sons, Henry Whitney and Robert Peabody 
 Bellows. This bas-relief is by Mr. Augustus St. Gau- 
 dens, acknowledged by common consent to be an artist 
 of rarest genius. In The American Architect, in an ar- 
 ticle on " The Growth of Decorative Art in America," 
 there is a description of this statue, which I propose to 
 copy here, as it has so much which cannot fail to be of 
 interest to all of our kindred : — 
 
 "The Unitarian congregation which worship in Dr. 
 Bellows' former church, on Fourth Avenue, has re- 
 cently proved its desire to possess a work of true art. 
 When a memorial to its former pastor, Dr. Bellows, was 
 proposed, it was felt that a mere inscribed tablet would 
 be insufficient ; and Mr. St. Gaudens was commissioned 
 to design and execute something that would do all that 
 American art could do to honor one who was not only 
 
 * The impression of the bas-relief which accompanies this is furnished by the cour- 
 tesy of "The Century Company " of New York, in whose magazine (November, 1887) it 
 originally appeared. 
 
320 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 a great preacher, but a public-spirited and most happily 
 influential citizen. In this monument, unveiled some 
 months ago, we have, I think, the finest ecclesiastic 
 work that one of our sculptors has yet produced, and a 
 work which may, without fear, stand comparison with 
 the best in any other land or of any age. 
 
 " Fine and beautiful as are Mr. St. Gaudens' works 
 in the round, his works in relief seem to me still more 
 remarkable and still more individual ! Nowhere else 
 is so fully shown his power over linear beauty, the 
 charm, the supreme distinction, the grace combined 
 with strength, the refinement and the purity of his 
 manner. Such a bas-relief as this of Dr. Bellows is to 
 be counted not only one of the best in quality among 
 modern works of sculpture, but one of the rarest in kind. 
 
 " It impresses us, first of all, as a complete and beau- 
 tiful work of art, — one which would excite interest and 
 command admiration, even though we knew not whom 
 it represented. And this is to say that, although it is 
 a faithful, simple, and thoroughly modern-seeming piece 
 of portraiture, it is a spiritualized, ennobled, idealistic 
 portrait, too. I am speaking without personal memory 
 of Dr. Bellows' features, and therefore without knowl- 
 edge as to whether or no they have been reproduced 
 with entire exactness. But it really matters very little 
 whether they have or not. What is wanted in a work 
 of this sort — the portrait of a public man which is to 
 preserve his memory green with the public of coming 
 years — is less an accurate reproduction of his features 
 than a clearly expressed, vital conception of his char- 
 acter and presence, — one which will agreeably, faith- 
 fully, and effectively supplement and explain to eyes 
 which never saw him the general portrait left in tradi- 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 32 I 
 
 tion and in print. And this, I am very sure, is what 
 Mr. St. Gaudens has given us, — ■ probably a faithful like- 
 ness in detail, certainly a faithful, typical, interesting 
 and ennobling conception of the nature of the man. 
 
 "The figure is rather larger than life, appearing, now 
 that it is in place on the wall, but just about life-size. 
 The inscription and the cross upon the bronze refer to 
 Dr. Bellows' valuable public services as President of the 
 Sanitary Commission during the war ; and the longer 
 inscription on the marble below bears tribute to his 
 work within his church and to his qualities as a man. 
 
 "The architectural accessories add greatly to the 
 beauty of the result." 
 
 The inscription beneath the statue is as follows : — 
 
 HENRY WHITNEY BELLOWS, 
 BORN IN BOSTON, JUNE II, 1814; DIED IN NEW YORK, JAN. 30, 1882. 
 
 FORTY-THREE YEARS MINISTER OF THIS CHURCH, 
 TO WHICH HE GAVE THE NAME ALL SOULS. 
 
 A PREACHER, STRONG, FERVENT, UPLIFTING; 
 
 A COURAGEOUS THINKER, 
 
 A PERSUASIVE ORATOR. 
 
 A PATRIOT, LOVING FREEDOM, INDIGNANT AT WRONG, 
 A LIFELONG PHILANTHROPIST. 
 
 PRESIDENT OF THE 
 UNITED STATES SANITARY COMMISSION, 1861-1S78. 
 
 AN ARDENT, GENEROUS FRIEND; JOYOUS WITH THE 
 
 JOYFUL, TENDER WITH THE SORROWFUL. 
 
 A DEVOUT CHRISTIAN ; TRUSTING IN GOD, 
 
 AND HOPING ALL THINGS OF MEN. 
 
CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 And there is another page in the nature of a supple- 
 ment, which I must add. I find, on turning back, that 
 in what I have said of General Ben, I have given but 
 little idea of his military services, excepting by inci- 
 dental reference. But I now realize that some more 
 full account of the general as a military man would not 
 merely show what he was, but would also illustrate the 
 state of the town and of the country at that time, 
 before the revolution. 
 
 I, therefore, collect here, from whatever sources I 
 may, such records as seem reliable upon this point : 
 some of them, and the most valuable, I find in Dr. 
 Bellows' address, some in Aldrich's Town History ; * 
 some are from private documents. 
 
 First, in regard to Col. Bellows, the founder. We 
 are to bear in mind the fact, that at the time of the set- 
 tlement of Walpole, the second French war was going 
 on, covering nearly twenty years of Col. Benjamin Bel- 
 lows' life, — 1744 to 1763, eleven of his first years in 
 Walpole ; consequently, as a leading military man, his 
 services were constantly called into requisition. It may 
 be mentioned, that, although New Hampshire was so 
 sparsely settled, she furnished, according to the muster 
 rolls, five hundred, or one-eighth of the entire land 
 force, in that most successful expedition against the 
 city and fortress of Cape Breton, the capture of which 
 is said to ha^'e filled America with joy and Europe with 
 
 * IVaJpole as it was, and as it is. By George Aldrich. 18S0. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 323 
 
 astonishment. And the records also show, that, when- 
 ever soldiers were to be enrolled, Walpole was always 
 prompt, under Col. Bellows' leadership and his son 
 Benjamin's, to respond with her full quota of men. 
 
 And now in regard to Gen. Benjamin. In a book 
 called Sketches of the History of New Hampshire, by 
 Whiton, mention is made of Gen. Bellows, of Walpole, 
 among " the distinguished patriots of the Revolution, 
 and those who had influence in the public counsels of 
 the State." 
 
 Next, let us bear in mind the fact, which Dr. Bellows 
 emphasizes in his address, that Gen. Bellows, before 
 and through the Revolutionary war, rose from the low- 
 est office in the militia of the State to be a brigadier 
 general, through his actual services to the State and 
 country. 
 
 Although not in the field for a very considerable 
 portion of the time, he was largely engaged in raising 
 troops for the regular United States service, and was 
 counted on by the General and the State Government 
 as a dependable, prompt, and efficient man, whenever 
 any military steps were to be taken. 
 
 Twice he marched his own regiment to Ticonderoga, 
 first in October, 1776, for a service of twenty-five days ; 
 and again, June 28, 1777, to reinforce the garrison there 
 when besieged by the enemy. Finally, he carried his 
 regiment, Sept. 21, 1777, to reinforce the Northern Con- 
 tinental army at Saratoga, under the command of Gen. 
 Gates, at the time when Burgoyne surrendered. 
 
 The historian says, after a battle "severe and bloody," 
 the "victory of the Americans was complete:" Gen. 
 Gates detached strong bodies of his troops in various 
 directions, to cut off the retreat of the enemy. Bur- 
 
324 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 goyne retired by Saratoga Creek to the Hudson, at 
 which point he was met by the New Hampshire militia, 
 under the command of Cols. Webster, Bellows, and 
 Morey. At this place the enemy halted, and Burgoyne 
 observed that " it was vain to contend with the owners 
 of the soil." Therefore he and his army laid down their 
 arms, and surrendered themselves prisoners of war. 
 
 Some of the old soldiers from Walpole, who went 
 with the general, used to say that the regiment cap- 
 tured one hundred and fifty Indians the first day of 
 their service. Munn Hall, of Walpole, is reported to 
 have said to Burgoyne at the surrender, " We've got 
 you for breakfast, and we'll have Lord Cornwallis for 
 dinner." 
 
 Gen. Gates highly complimented the regiments from 
 Cheshire County, under Col. Ashley and Col. Bellows, 
 for their services on this occasion. His letter runs 
 thus : — 
 
 TiCONDEROGA, Nov. 9, 1 776. 
 
 Gentlemen, I return you and the officers and soldiers of the 
 regiments under your command my thanks for the spirit and expe- 
 dition botli you and they have shown in marching, upon the first 
 alarm, upwards of one hundred miles, to the support of this im- 
 portant pass, when threatened with an immediate attack from the 
 enemy's army. I now dismiss you with the honor you have so 
 well deserved. I further certify, that neither you nor any under 
 your command have received any pay or reward from me, for your 
 services on this occasion ; that I leave to be settled by the General 
 Congress with the convention of your State. 
 
 With great respect, I am, gentlemen. 
 
 Your most obedient, humble servant, 
 
 Horatio Gates. 
 
 To Col. Ashley and Col. Bellows, Commanders the Regiments of 
 Militia from the County of Cheshire, in the State of New 
 Hampshire. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 325 
 
 Whenever men were to be raised for the war, in any 
 part of the North, New Hampshire, and especially Wal- 
 pole, was always ready; and Gen. Bellows was the 
 agent through whom all recruits were furnished and all 
 payments were made. 
 
 But some consider that, in its final issues, the best 
 military service which Gen. Bellows ever rendered was 
 much nearer home, at Westminster, Vt., on the four- 
 teenth of March, 1775, when he was a simple captain. 
 And this will call to our minds what we are all now 
 so apt entirely to forget, namely, the violent internal 
 struggles which were going on at the very time when 
 we had to meet foreign invasion ; and the consequent 
 value of a service of any one who could by his authority 
 or persuasion settle any of these internal strifes. 
 
 New York claimed jurisdiction over the whole terri- 
 tory now called Vermont, under the charter of Charles 
 II. Vermont resisted this jurisdiction. 
 
 Some of the people of Vermont, however, sympa- 
 thized with the New York or royal claim, and of course 
 the country was filled with civil feuds. The owners of 
 the lands, who had bought and paid for them, were of 
 course not willing to have the authority under which 
 they held their titles questioned ; while New York nat- 
 urally relinquished very slowly the control of so fair 
 and promising a district of country. After a great deal 
 of exasperation and controversy, the people determined 
 that the New York Royal Court should not be held at 
 Westminster, at its approaching session ; and, accord- 
 ingly, after peaceably attempting to dissuade the judges 
 from holding the court, and obtaining only some equiv- 
 ocal promises, they seized the court house (though 
 without arms) on the afternoon of the day when the 
 
326 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 court was to be holden. The royal authorities deter- 
 mined to enforce their rights by arms ; and, in the 
 short struggle which ensued, William French, a young 
 man twenty-two years of age, was shot in the court 
 house at eleven o'clock at night, and dragged by the 
 enraged authorities, whose blood was now up, out of 
 the court house, with many oaths and indignities, and 
 challenges to the people.* The Westminster folks, with 
 their friends from neighboring towns, were terribly en- 
 raged at what they termed this massacre, and sur- 
 rounded the court house all night, in serious doubt 
 whether or not to burn it down with the whole court 
 in it, as a fitting sacrifice to their vengeance. Gen. 
 Bellows (then Captain) heard of the terrible excite- 
 ment, hastened from across the river at Walpole, at the 
 head of his company, to the ground, and mingling in the 
 crowd, as the professed friend and aider of the popular 
 cause against this royal oppression, soon so far got pos- 
 session of the confidence of the mob as to convert their 
 threatened lynch law into regular legal action. He 
 persuaded the maddened people, who might otherwise 
 have gone to the extremity of a general butchery of the 
 royalists, to seize the principal men, and carry them, 
 under his military escort, to Northampton, where the 
 
 *Mr. French's epitaph still stands in the burial-ground at Westminster, and runs 
 thus : 
 
 " In memory of WILLIAM FRENCH, son to Mr. Nathaniel French, who was shot 
 at Westminster, March ye 13th, 1775, by the hands of cruel ministerial tools of Georg 
 ye 3d, in the corthouse, at a 11 a clock at night, in the 22d year of his age. 
 Here William French his body lies. 
 For murder his blood for vengeance cries. 
 King Georg the third, his Tory crew, 
 Tha with a bawl his head shot threw. 
 For Liberty and his country's Good 
 He lost his Life, his Dearest blood," 
 
 Fro-m Slade^s Vermont State Pafers. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 327 
 
 only strong jail could be found, outside of disputed 
 territory. This was done ; and although the interfer- 
 ence of New York procured afterwards the liberation 
 of the prisoners, yet time was gained, and a bloody and 
 most disastrous result averted. It has been said that 
 the news of the massacre at Westminster, with its con- 
 sequences, reaching Gen. Gage at Boston, exasperated 
 him, as an indication of the spirit of our people, and 
 prompted him to march to Lexington and inflict the 
 blow which introduced the Revolutionary War and the 
 Declaration of Independence. No event, at any rate 
 in Gen. Bellows' life, was more important or more hon- 
 orable than his pacific influence at the Westminster 
 massacre, joined to his exercise of military authority. 
 
 The moment the news of the battle of Lexington, 
 19th of April, 177s, reached Walpole, Gen. Bellows, 
 with his next brother, Col. John, hastened to the scene 
 of action, followed by a party of thirty-five volunteers. 
 
 The town itself was among the foremost in manifest- 
 ing its interest in the Revolution. The town records 
 contain a set of spirited artd patriotic instructions to 
 Capt. Webber, sent as a representative to Exeter, in 
 1776. In 1778, the town voted to assume the care of 
 the men engaged in the Continental service. It may 
 be here mentioned, though not a military record, that 
 Gen. Bellows was chosen President of the College of 
 Electors in this State, for the choice of the first Presi- 
 dent of the United States, Jan. 7, 1789. 
 
 And now, before this record of Gen. Benjamin is con- 
 cluded, let me give an account of his generalship, in 
 averting what threatened to be a very serious crisis. 
 
 Early in the history of the State, in 1781, there was 
 an active Secession movement, not quite equalling that 
 
328 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 of the Southern States, in 1861, but still of vital impor- 
 tance to the State of New Hampshire. It was Gen. 
 Bellows, who by his wise counsel, and efificient manage- 
 ment, was foremost, as we shall see, in crushing out 
 this spirit of rebellion. Serious difficulty had arisen 
 between New Hampshire and Vermont, in regard to 
 the question of boundary. Vermont claimed jurisdic- 
 tion on the east side of the river, and in some way 
 found means to induce several of the river towns into a 
 desertion of New Hampshire: they were either to be 
 absorbed by Vermont, or to join with towns of eastern 
 Vermont, and form a new "Confederacy." And Ver- 
 mont went so far as to hold her courts in Charlestown 
 just above, and Chesterfield just below, Walpole. And 
 what was still worse, Walpole itself, after a while, 
 seemed likely to indorse this desertion of the flag, 
 and to be ready to go over to the enemy; thirty-four 
 towns in all, on the New Hampshire side, joining in 
 the movement. We can imagine the mingled grief 
 and indignation of the general, in seeing this town of 
 his pride, with its rich meadows and prosperous vil- 
 lage, about to demean itself by this act ! It was too 
 much for his loyal spirit. His letters to the Governor 
 of the State speak in guarded, yet almost wrathful 
 language of the audacity of the Vermont authorities ; 
 and he advises and demands prompt and decisive 
 resistance. One who has carefully read these letters, 
 still on file, says that they are full of judgment, of 
 mingled energy and moderation, and show the general 
 to have been both a skilful diplomatist and a resolute 
 and loyal man ; not disposed to yield to mere major- 
 ities without protest, where right and public duty were 
 concerned. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 329 
 
 The present generation has no idea of the troubled 
 state of political affairs which existed at that day, and 
 which these early settlers had to meet, at the same time 
 that they were struggling with all the difficulties of a 
 frontier life. In order to show how serious was the im- 
 pending danger, I will give a condensed account of one 
 or two incidents connected with this secession move- 
 ment. The official records are quite full. 
 
 In several places, people who were loyal to New 
 Hampshire, and spoke their minds freely, but living in 
 towns where the majority were secessionists, — in favor 
 of going over to Vermont, — were obliged to flee from 
 their houses, and leave their families and business, and 
 seek shelter in neighboring towns. 
 
 In one of the seceding towns, Chesterfield, certain 
 loyal men resisted the authority of a constable who held 
 his commission under the Vermont government ; they 
 were arrested and lodged in jail at Charlestown (No. 4), 
 where Vermont, as I have stated, had established a 
 court and appointed sheriffs. Col. Enoch Hale, the 
 sheriff of Cheshire County, loyal to New Hampshire, 
 was sent to release these men from prison. He at- 
 tempted it, but was himself arrested, and imprisoned. 
 He obtained a parole, in order to visit Gen. Bellows at 
 Walpole. Gen. Bellows immediately addressed a letter 
 to President Weare, deploring the humiliating position 
 of New Hampshire, advising him to raise a force out- 
 side of Cheshire County sufficient to maintain her 
 authority in the western part of the State. Presi- 
 dent Weare, on the receipt of Gen. Bellows' letter, 
 called the Committee of Safety together. They imme- 
 diately issued orders to the brigadier generals of the 
 State to call out the militia under their commands for 
 
33° PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 the release of Col. Hale and others confined .in Charles- 
 town jail. 
 
 The sheriff of Vermont took measures to call out the 
 militia of Vermont, in order to resist the New Hamp- 
 shire forces. Finally, New Hampshire decided to raise 
 an armed force of a thousand men, to be sent into 
 Cheshire County to support civil authority. And the 
 government issued a proclamation, requiring the re- 
 volted towns to return to their allegiance, and to sub- 
 scribe within forty days an acknowledgment of the 
 jurisdiction of the State of New Hampshire. This de- 
 termined action, added to the move of New Hampshire 
 to refer the matter to Congress, doubtless led Vermont 
 to withdraw from her position, and the seceding towns 
 to take the oath of allegiance. The steps which led to 
 this result are largely to be traced to the action taken 
 and the influence exerted by Gen. Bellows. Thus was 
 secession put down, and Walpole and all the other 
 towns along the Connecticut River remained in the 
 New Hampshire union. 
 
 I shall now add to this account a copy of one of Gen. 
 Bellows' letters, written at this time to Meshech Weare, 
 Provincial President of the State of New Hampshire, 
 because I think it will help us realize still more fully 
 what troublous times those were in which that first 
 generation — the children of the old colonel — lived. 
 
 The letter is as follows : — 
 
 "Walpole, Jan. 2, 1782. 
 Benjamin Bellows to Pres. Weare : 
 
 Sir, — I have often troubled you with a narrative of our dis- 
 tresses and difficulties in this part of the State. Notwithstanding, 
 I presume you, and the rest of your Honorable Committee of 
 Safety, will exercise your wonted indulgence, while I give account 
 of some new difficulties, arising upon the officers attempting to 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 33 1 
 
 convey one Samuel King, of Chesterfield, to Exeter ; which rescue 
 you will have an account of before this reaches you. Upon the 
 return of the mob, after proper refreshments at said King's, they 
 sought for all those persons who were in any way concerned in 
 assisting the aforesaid oiificer; some of whom they got into their 
 hands, and have abused them in a shameful and barbarous man- 
 ner, by striking and kicking, and all the indignities which such a 
 hellish pack can be guilty of; obliging them to promise and engage 
 never to appear against the new State again. And that is not all : 
 they swear they will extirpate all the adherents of New Hamp- 
 shire, threatening to kill, burn, and destroy, the persons and prop- 
 erty of all who oppose them. The friends of this State cannot 
 continue at said Chesterfield with their families, but are obliged 
 to seek an asylum in other towns, among the Hampshire people. 
 I have two respectable inhabitants of said Chesterfield now shelter- 
 ing themselves under my roof, who, I have the greatest reason to 
 think, would be treated by them in a barbarous manner, were they 
 in their power, as they have stove in doors and broken up houses 
 in search of them. I am credibly informed, that there is in said 
 Chesterfield about one hundred persons who support said King, 
 and say they (New Hampshire) can do nothing but in a mean and 
 underhanded way ; in short, they defy all the authority and force 
 of the State, and are determined to support and maintain their 
 usurped authority, maugre all attempts that have or shall be made 
 to curb or restrain their usurpations. The wrath of man and the 
 raging of the sea are in Scripture put together, and it is He alone 
 who can rule the latter and restrain the former. 
 
 I hope and trust the Author of Wisdom will direct the Honora- 
 ble Committee to such measures as will ultimately tend to the 
 peace and happiness of this part of the State, and especially those 
 adherents of New Hampshire who are in a sense suffering for 
 righteousness' sake. 
 
 I am, with all esteem and respect. 
 
 Your most obedient and humble servant, 
 
 Benjamin Bellows." 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Just here, where I have been referring to military 
 affairs, and the early calls to meet dangers, I may fitly 
 insert, what I ought to have brought forward long ago, 
 something about the exposures of the early settlers of 
 Walpole. In order to convey an idea of the terrible 
 apprehension under which, for many years, they lived 
 in fear of the Indians, I will append a short letter of 
 Col. Benjamin Bellows, written in 1754; and also the 
 account, as it has come down to us, of the Indian fight 
 near the fort. 
 
 The letter is addressed to Col. Bellows' brother-in- 
 law. Col. Joseph Blanchard, who had active command 
 of a regiment of soldiers somewhere lower down the 
 river. It is written from Westmoreland, the town next 
 below Walpole, where Col. Bellows had been recruiting 
 men for the defence of the settlements, as apparently 
 the whole country round looked to him for protection. 
 Here is the letter. 
 
 Sir, — We have the news from Charlestown, that on Thursday 
 morning, the 29th of this instant, the Indians came to the house 
 of James Johnson, and broke in and took sd Johnson, his wife and 
 three children, and a maid, and one Ebenr. Farnsworth and one 
 Labbaree, and they suppose they have carried them all off ; they 
 have not found any of them killed. The people are in great dis- 
 tress all down the river, and at Keene and at Swanzey, and the 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 333 
 
 few men sent will not more than supply one town, and the people 
 can not secure their grain, nor hardly keep their garrison, etc. 
 
 Benj. Bellows. 
 Westmoreland, Aug. 31, 1754. 
 
 P.S. — I have got no further than Westmoreland, when I wrote 
 this ; I got all the men safe there. B. B. 
 
 This foray of the savages into Charlestown, with the 
 captivity of Mrs. Johnson — the day but one before the 
 date of this letter — gave rise to one of the most cele- 
 brated memoirs of Indian cruelty and heroic endurance 
 on the part of its victim, ever furnished from that sort 
 of annals. 
 
 Col. Bellows' apprehensions were destined to be very 
 shortly realized. Two men, by name Daniel Twichel, 
 and Mr. Flynt, in the summer of i/SS, had gone back 
 to the hills, about a mile and a half northeast of the 
 Fort, on what is now the Drewsville road, to procure 
 some timber for oars. Here they were shot by the 
 Indians ; one of them was scalped, the other cut open, 
 his heart taken out and laid in pieces upon his breast. 
 This was the first Christian blood spilt in Walpole. 
 The bodies were buried on the spot, which is accurately 
 pointed out at this day. 
 
 Shortly before this, an Indian by the name of Philip 
 had visited Kilburn's house in a friendly way, pretend- 
 ing to be in want of provisions. He was supplied with 
 flints, flour, etc., and dismissed. Soon after, it was 
 ascertained that this same Indian had visited all the 
 settlements on the river, doubtless to procure informa- 
 tion of the state of their defences. Gov. Shirley about 
 this time sent information to all the forts in this region, 
 that five hundred Indians were collecting in Canada, 
 
334 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 whose aim was the butchery and extinction of the 
 whole white population on the river. Greatly alarmed, 
 the sparse population, unwilling to abandon their crops, 
 had strengthened their feeble garrisons, and bravely 
 determined to stand by their rude, but promising 
 homes. 
 
 Col. Benjamin Bellows had at this time about thirty 
 men at his fort, about half a mile south of Kilburn's 
 house, but too distant from it to give him prompt aid. 
 About noon, on the 17th of August, 1755, Kilburn and 
 his son John, in his eighteenth year, a man by the 
 name of Peak and his son, were returning home to 
 dinner from the field, when one of them discovered the 
 red legs of the Indians among the alders, " as thick as 
 grasshoppers." They instantly made for the house, 
 fastened the door, and prepared for an obstinate de- 
 fence. Kilburn's wife Ruth and his daughter Hetty 
 were already in the house. In about fifteen minutes, 
 the savages were seen crawling up the bank east of the 
 house, and as they crossed a foot-path, one by one, one 
 hundred and ninety-seven were counted ; about the 
 same number, it afterwards proved, had remained in 
 ambush, near the mouth of Cold River, but joined the 
 attacking party soon. 
 
 The savages appeared to have learned that Col. Bel- 
 lows and his men were at work at his mill, about a mile 
 east (on what is called the Blanchard Brook, near where 
 it is crossed by the Drewsville road, it being built at 
 that distance from the fort on account of the conven- 
 ience of a water-fall), and they intended to waylay and 
 murder them before attacking Kilburn's house. Col. 
 Bellows and his men were now returning home, each 
 with a bag of meal on his back, when the dogs began 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 335 
 
 to growl and betray the neighborhood of an enemy. 
 The colonel, knowing the language of the dogs and the 
 wiles of the Indians, instantly adopted his policy. He 
 directed his men, throwing off the meal, to crawl care- 
 fully to the rise of the land, and, on reaching the top 
 of the bank, to spring together to their feet, give one 
 whoop, and instantly drop into the sweet fern. This 
 manoeuvre had the desired effect to draw the Indians 
 from their ambush. At the sound of the whoop, fancy- 
 ing themselves discovered, the whole body of the sav- 
 ages arose from the bushes in a semi-circle round the 
 path Col. Bellows was to have followed. His men im- 
 proved instantly the excellent opportunity for a shot 
 offered by the enemy ; who were so disconcerted, that, 
 without firing a gun, they darted into the bushes and 
 disappeared. The colonel, sensible of his unequal 
 force, hurried his men off by the shortest cut to the 
 fort, and prepared for its defence. 
 
 The cowardly savages had, however, no intention of 
 coming again into the range of his guns. They deter- 
 mined to take their vengeance out of a weaker party, 
 and soon after appeared on the eminence east of Kil- 
 burn's house. Here the same treacherous Philip, who 
 had visited him and partaken his hospitality so short a 
 time before, came forward under shelter of a tree, and 
 summoned the little garrison to surrender. "Old John, 
 Young John," was his cry, " I know ye ; come out here. 
 We give you good quarter." " Quarter !" vociferated 
 old Kilburn, in a voice of thunder. " You black ras- 
 cals, begone, or we'll quarter you!" It was a brave 
 reply for four men to make to four hundred ! Philip 
 returned, and after a short consultation, the war-whoop 
 rang o.ut, as if, to use the language of an ear-witness. 
 
336 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 " all the devils in hell had been let loose." Kilburn 
 was lucky and prudent enough to get the first fire, 
 before the smoke of the battle perplexed his aim, and 
 was confident he saw Philip himself fall. The fire from 
 the little garrison was returned by a shower of balls 
 from the savages, who rushed forward to the attack. 
 The roof was a perfect " riddle-sieve." Some of the 
 Indians fell at once to butchering the cattle, others to 
 a wanton destruction of the grain, while the larger part 
 kept up an incessant fire at the house. Meanwhile, 
 Kilburn and his men — aye, and his women — were all 
 busily at work. Their powder they poured into their 
 hats for greater convenience ; the women loaded the 
 guns, of which they had several spare ones, all of them 
 being kept hot by incessant use. As their stock of 
 lead grew short, they suspended blankets over their 
 heads to catch the balls of the enemy, which pene- 
 trated one side of the roof and fell short of the other. 
 These were immediately run by these Spartan women 
 into bullets, and, before they had time to cool, were sent 
 back to the enemy, from whom they came. Several 
 attempts were made to force the door, but the unerring 
 aim of the marksmen within sent such certain death 
 to these assailants that they soon desisted from their 
 efforts. Most of the time the Indians kept behind logs 
 and stumps, and avoided, as they best could, the fire of 
 the little Gibraltar. The whole afternoon, even till 
 sundown, the battle continued ; until, as the sun set, 
 the savages, unable to conquer so small a fortress, dis- 
 couraged and baffled, forsook the ground, and, as was 
 supposed, returned to Canada, abandoning the expedi- 
 tion on which they had set out. It is not unreasonable 
 to suppose that their fatal experience here, through the 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 337 
 
 matchless defence of those Walpole heroes and hero- 
 ines, was instrumental in saving hundreds of the dwell- 
 ers on the frontier from the horrors of an Indian mas- 
 sacre. 
 
 Seldom did it fall to the lot of our forefathers to win 
 a more brilliant crown than John Kilburn earned in 
 this glorious exploit. Peck got the only wound of his 
 party, receiving a ball in the hip, from exposure at a 
 port-hole, which unhappily, for lack of surgical care, 
 caused his death on the fifth day. The Indians never 
 again appeared in Walpole, although the war did not 
 terminate until eight years afterwards. 
 
 I am going to insert here a story, which is found in 
 Arnold's History of A Is lead, because it brings before 
 us so vividly the trials of those early settlers, and the 
 perseverance and tender-heartedness of Gen. Bellows. 
 It shows us how this necessity for mutual help rallied, 
 in times of trouble, not neighbors only of the same 
 village or hamlet, but even from all the adjoining 
 towns ; calling out thereby the best affections, and 
 making these scattered communities into brotherhoods, 
 such as we rarely see at the present day. 
 
 The story is as follows: "In 1770, Jacob Cady, a 
 child two-and-a-half years old, son of Isaac Cady, was 
 one day missing." This was in Alstead, a town north 
 of and adjoining Walpole, some eight or ten miles dis- 
 tant. "The region around was one vast wilderness, 
 and thickly inhabited by beasts of prey. Jacob, pecul- 
 iarly dear to his mother, left her one afternoon to go 
 to his father, who was chopping in the woods at a very 
 little distance. But, when the father returned at night, 
 the child was missing. The anxious parents flew im- 
 mediately in search of their little boy, and the more 
 
338 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 they hunted and called, as the thick darkness of night 
 gathered around them, the more their anxiety increased 
 and their hopes desponded. The night was spent in 
 anxious search and awful suspense. But all their care 
 and toil were vain. The light of morning returned, 
 and yet- their child was lost. But the day was now 
 before them, and parental affection does not easily relin- 
 quish its object. The neighbors, though distant and 
 few, were friendly and kind. Some immediately joined 
 with the afflicted parents in ranging the woods, and 
 others carried information to the neighboring towns. 
 But the day declined, and the hopes which were for a 
 time enkindled sunk in despondency as the darkness 
 closed upon the light. Fires were kindled at distances 
 from each other, suited to direct their search and at- 
 tract the attention of the child, and numbers spent the 
 night in fruitless attempts for his recovery. 
 
 " As the light of another day gilded the horizon, and in- 
 vited their renewed exertions, multitudes were collected 
 from Charlestown, Walpole, Marlow, Keene, and all the 
 neighboring towns, — ^four hundred or five hundred per- 
 sons in all, — to lend their assistance to make one 
 united effort, and if possible to relieve the anxiety of 
 these bereaved parents. Hope was again revived, and 
 earnest expectations were entertained as the bands 
 went forth to scour the woods, with critical and care- 
 ful attention to every nook, and to every circumstance 
 that might show signs of the lost child. In their faith- 
 ful searches among the rocks, and forest trees, and 
 fallen timber, they discovered the tracks of a child and 
 also those of a bear, or of some wild beast very near 
 them. Eager and trembling were the pursuers. Soon, 
 however, all indications of discovery disappeared, and 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 339 
 
 as the second day began to decline, they relinquished 
 their object as hopeless, and many returned to the 
 house of Mr. Cady. 'Alas ! ' said the mother, under 
 the burthen of fatigue, a want of sleep, and a spirit 
 sinking in despair, ' if I could know that the child was 
 relieved from suffering, even by the devouring beasts, 
 I could be still. Could I even see a fragment of his 
 torn limbs, I would say no more. But how can I lie 
 down to rest, not knowing but my little Jacob is wan- 
 dering and starving in yonder gloom .' Think of this 
 terrible deep forest ! Can a parent forget her child, 
 or cease to look for the little wanderer ? Even the 
 sleep of night would be disturbed by the dreams of his 
 suffering state, and the seeming cries for a mother's 
 aid.' 
 
 "Such artless eloquence as this could not fail to move 
 those generous feelings and noble sentiments which 
 our fathers inherited. It was sufficient to put in lively 
 exercise that compassion and benevolence, that spirit of 
 enterprise and perseverance, for which they were so 
 much distinguished. 
 
 " Gen. Benjamin Bellows and Capt. Jennison of Wal- 
 pole, Capt. John Burroughs of this town, — Alstead, — 
 Mr. Abner Bingham of Marlow, and a few others who 
 had not left the house, immediately determined to renew 
 the search. And even the prospect of a dark night 
 only served to hasten their steps and nerve their weary 
 limbs. They agreed on the following signal, and set 
 off in the pursuit. If they should discover any signs 
 of the child, one gun was to be discharged ; if he should 
 be found dead, or to have been destroyed, two guns were 
 to be discharged ; and, if he should be found alive, the 
 discharge of three would give notice. With anxious, 
 
340 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 though enfeebled solicitude did the parents and those 
 at the house listen to catch the first sound that might 
 burst upon the ear from the still expanse of the south. 
 No sooner had their eager attention begun to subside 
 than the first signal was heard. Every countenance 
 instantly glowed with a fluctuating crimson, which told 
 the emotions of joy and fear that struggled alternately 
 within. But these emotions soon gave way to deadly 
 paleness and fearful apprehensions when the second 
 discharge was heard. Is the child dead .' was the secret 
 inquiry of every look. Now all were breathless to hear, 
 and were afraid they should not. But soon the third 
 discharge broke the dreadful suspense, and burst the 
 veil of uncertainty that hung over the scene. The 
 change that so quickly succeeded, the joy that kindled 
 in every breast, glowed in every countenance, and spar- 
 kled in every eye, can be more easily imagined than 
 described. The child was found asleep east or south 
 east of Warren's pond, and restored with peculiar satis- 
 faction and joyful triumph to the embrace of its de- 
 lighted parents by Gen. Bellows of Walpole." 
 
CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 When looking over some relics, a day or two ago, I 
 discovered a printed sermon, preached by Parson Fes- 
 senden, on the fourth of July, 1802. This memorable 
 day came on the Sabbath, and he improved the oppor- 
 tunity to set forth his patriotic views ; telling his con- 
 gregation, in the language which was customary to use 
 in that far off time, how the nation was born, raising its 
 people to the grandeur of freedom and independence ; 
 also the importance of marking the day in some special 
 manner that would arouse the enthusiasm of the pop- 
 ulace, and make them understand its significance, 
 " Ring your bells, fire your cannons, illumine your 
 houses, display your battle-flags, that led our noble sons 
 to victory ! " There seems to have been a call for just 
 such a sermon, for Walpole had never, up to that time, 
 made any public demonstration on the Fourth, and I 
 have reason to think the good parson's advice was not 
 thrown away. I was two years old when this sermon 
 was preached and printed, and among my earliest recol- 
 lections that follow, two or three years afterward, is a 
 table spread upon the common sufficiently long to give 
 a place to every individual, man, woman, and child, in 
 town. It was embowered with green branches and dec- 
 orated with flowers, which served to impress it upon my 
 memory. I could not have been quite five years old at 
 that time, but what interested me most was my Uncle 
 Joseph, — Maj. Jo. He was riding about with a plumed 
 
342 PERSONAL ■REMINISCENCES 
 
 hat upon his head, and a long white roll in his hand, and 
 wearing the badge of a colonel ; other officers, his aids, 
 were riding with him ; but I think he must have been 
 the chief marshal of the day, as his brilliant costume 
 denoted him a superior officer. Those gilded trappings 
 which I beheld for the first time, had so metamorphosed, 
 my uncle that I could not be quite sure it was he, until 
 he smiled up at the window, where I was standing with 
 my grandmother, looking out upon the scene. These 
 horsemen headed a long procession, a mile long it 
 seemed to me, composed of the citizens who had lis- 
 tened to an oration delivered by somebody in a grove 
 somewhere, probably the Oak Grove, which is now our 
 cemetery ; for they were marching from that direction, 
 escorted by a military company, the band played our 
 national air, which at that time was Hail Columbia. 
 Yankee Doodle must have been born some time later, 
 I think. A sumptuous dinner had been prepared, 
 where, as I have said, ladies as well as gentlemen had 
 seats at the table. And we have a right to suppose it 
 was conducted in the good, old-fashioned manner of that 
 time, when louder enthusiasm over the toasts was per- 
 missible in the presence of ladies. I think the toasts 
 must have been an important feature on this occasion ; 
 for the story of one of them has survived all the indi- 
 viduals who had the opportunity of hearing it. 
 
 There was a man, then living in Walpole, by the 
 name of Casper. He was a German ; and, although he 
 had been a resident many years, he had not learned 
 the English language so as to speak it intelligibly. I 
 remember he was an inexhaustible source of amusement 
 to all who knew him. He was invariably called upon 
 for a speech on town-meeting days, and many persons 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 343 
 
 would go to hear Casper's speech who would not go to 
 vote. His vague ideas of our institutions, and miscon- 
 ceptions of things in general, were simply ridiculous, 
 and made more so by the flowery language in which he 
 attempted to express them : and, when given in a mix- 
 ture of English and German, nothing could be more 
 laughable. His toasts, however, quite surpassed his 
 speeches; and no opportunity was lost, when it was 
 possible to call for one. At this dinner, on the glorious 
 Fourth, it was said he quite outdid himself. He toasted 
 the American Eagle that soared aloft, and everything in 
 America that the Eagle looked down upon, or was likely 
 to look down upon in the future of the Republic : but 
 his imagination soared higher than the bird, poised 
 awhile in mid-air, and then met an Icarian fall. As this 
 toast was given mostly in his native language, the wits, 
 who were not a few at that time, translated it to suit 
 themselves, in varied forms of both prose and verse. 
 And so poor Casper's toast outlived himself and all 
 those who heard it. 
 
 This appears to have been the first public celebration 
 of the Fourth of July, with procession, oration, and 
 dinner, which gathered around those long tables those 
 old worthies and sainted mothers and fair daughters of 
 whom I have been writing. 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 For many years, there was but one religious society 
 in Walpole, and Parson Leavitt was the first minister 
 settled here; but his pastorate was of short duration. 
 When our grandfather, Col. Benjamin Bellows, heard 
 that Parson Leavitt had brought his slave-girl home on 
 foot, leading her tied with a rope to his saddle, he was 
 roused to indignation, and said, that, as he had settled 
 that man, it now became his business to unsettle him ; 
 and unsettle him he did, never allowing him again to 
 enter that pulpit. 
 
 The old colonel was a man who could not tolerate 
 tyranny or cruelty in any form, especially, as we can 
 readily conceive, at the hands of his spiritual teacher ; 
 and Rev. Thomas Fessenden was soon installed in Par- 
 son Leavitt's place. But whence he came I cannot 
 tell ; I only know that he spent a long life here, for 
 he was settled in 1767, and he occupied the pulpit 
 with a colleague when I was a child. I have heard 
 him spoken of as an excellent scholar, a graduate of 
 Harvard College, and far superior to the ordinary class 
 of country ministers at that time, and decidedly in 
 advance of the age, exhibiting a liberal and progres- 
 sive spirit, entirely in accord, as we may believe, with 
 the spirit and views of our ancestors. Many of his 
 sermons were printed, and his volume entitled The 
 Science of Sanctity was as original as its title, and 
 quite out of the line of the writings of that period ; 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 34S 
 
 and, as I was recently told, it is still referred to in 
 some theological institutions as a rich source of sug- 
 gestive thought. 
 
 During his long pastorate, Parson Fessenden occu- 
 pied the house standing opposite the old burying- 
 ground. He had sons and daughters, of whom I have 
 no knowledge save two, — Patty, and Thomas. Patty 
 was very diminutive in size, and her features so exceed- 
 ingly plain that she became a proverb. The following 
 story was told of her, in my childhood. 
 
 There were tramps then as now, but probably not as 
 many of them. There was one called " old Grimes," 
 who made his periodical appearance in this town ; but 
 the people were not so much afraid of his seriously 
 harming them as of the absurd jokes he was sure to 
 play upon them. At one time, he went to Rev. Mr. 
 Fessenden's, and entered a room where Patty was sit- 
 ting alone. He stood gazing at her for a few moments, 
 and then suddenly caught her up in his arms, and ran 
 out of the house, saying he was going to bury her, for 
 she was too handsome to live. Her screams soon 
 brought her father from his study, and the rest of the 
 household, who all gave hot pursuit ; until, when nearly 
 reaching the burying-ground, Grimes dropped his bur- 
 den, and ran, calling to them to finish the noble work 
 he had attempted for the benefit of the human race ; 
 for such beauties should not be permitted to transmit 
 their features to posterity. This story was often told 
 when I was young, but it is quite possible I am the 
 only one now living who ever heard it. Thomas Fes- 
 senden, the son, who was also a graduate of Harvard 
 College, was noted for his wit and humor. His paper, 
 published at Bellows Falls, as I have already stated. 
 
346 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 was eagerly sought every week, especially by the young 
 people, who were anxious to know what more he would 
 find to set everybody laughing. He was not, however, 
 distinguished for these traits alone ; he inherited a 
 clear intellect and much good sense from his father, 
 and knew how to use it for his own advantage. 
 
 When following the course of our noble senator in 
 Congress, bearing this same name, I have often specu- 
 lated on the probability of his being a descendant of 
 this brilliant editor, from whom, or from the father 
 before him, he may have inherited his inspiration. 
 
 I think that I only very briefly referred to the fact, that 
 in the early days of Parson Fessenden, and when Judge 
 Vose, who married Col. John's eldest daughter, was in 
 his prime, Walpole was noted as a literary centre, as 
 well as a place of large hospitality and good-fellowship. 
 Dr. Bellows emphasizes this fact, and makes it promi- 
 nent in his account of Walpole, in which he says : A 
 little knot of wits, then living here, attracted the gay 
 and witty society of the whole region round : Joe 
 Denny, Jerry Mason, Roger Vose, resided in Walpole ; 
 Royal Tyler, afterward Chief Justice of Vermont, full 
 of wit, came from Brattleboro to join this circle, as did 
 other noted men from Keene, on the one side, and 
 Charlestown, N.H., on the other. Walpole lay on the 
 main road of travel up the river ; and not only were the 
 military men led to stop here, where there were so 
 many brother officers — as almost every Bellows was a 
 colonel or major or captain or general — but the law- 
 yers on their circuits made it their aim to spend at 
 least one night at Maj. Bullard's hotel, where a rich 
 assembly would be quickly summoned of congenial 
 spirits. Joe Denny, before referred to, wrote here in 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 347 
 
 Walpole his " Lay Preacher," afterward appearing in 
 the Portfolio, which he edited in Philadelphia. Dr. 
 Bellows says of him, "He wrote in a style of elegance 
 unexampled in his day, and which fully entitled him to 
 the name of the American Addison." 
 
35° PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 lings per poll, until it amounts to £7S> ^^^ there to 
 stand so long as he shall remain pastor of the town." 
 Benjamin Bellows was to make up whatever the town 
 could not raise toward Mr. Leavitt's endowment and 
 suppprt. 
 
 In 1767, when Rev. Mr. Fessenden was settled in 
 the place of Mr. Leavitt, whose hasty relief from duty 
 I have mentioned, his salary was fifty pounds the first 
 year, " half the salary to be in wheat at 4s. per bushel ; 
 rye 3s. and Indian corn at 2s. : good beef, at 2 pence 
 per pound, and good pork at 3 pence per pound, the 
 pork being hogs that weigh 8 score." Parson Fessen- 
 den remonstrated successfully against this form of pay- 
 ment, " as it would compel him to turn merchant, and 
 divert him from his proper duties." 
 
 There are two or three items connected with the Hill 
 Meeting-House not of much importance, but which might 
 be of interest. The records show that there were re- 
 peated town-meetings, and warm debates as to the loca- 
 tion, and then as to the style of the proposed new meet- 
 ing-house ; especially whether to have seats or square 
 pews on the broad aisle, and whether the building 
 should have a dome or a steeple. The records show 
 that when the town was called upon to decide upon the 
 color, they had the good taste, even at that early day, to 
 paint the outside straw color. Col. John and Gen. Ben. 
 seem to have been the forces, in the way of will and of 
 liberal contributions, which pushed this large undertak- 
 ing to completion. In the warrant for town-meeting, in 
 1791, is a curious article, "To see if the town will come 
 to any method to prevent sheep lying round the new 
 meeting-house ; " and, at the same meeting, the town 
 voted " with most ferocious unanimity," as Dr. Bellows 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 35 I 
 
 puts it, "That Asa Gage and Nicanor Townsley take 
 care and keep the dogs out of the meeting-house on 
 Sabbath days, and kill them ! " 
 
 In connection with reference to the meeting-house, 
 we may recall the fact, that as early as March, 1768, six- 
 teen years only after the charter, the town voted to sup- 
 port three winter schools. And, in 1775, at the same 
 time when the town voted " to pay its proportion of 
 charge for the meeting of the Provincial Congress," it 
 also voted to look up a lot of land for the establishment 
 of a Grammar school. Thus, as we see, provision for 
 the church and the school had been the old colonel's 
 first care. He was ready to bear the whole burden him- 
 self, as is evident from the repeated votes of the town, 
 prior to 1777, that " Col. Bellows do the rest ; " but his 
 open hand wisely waited until the self-respect of all the 
 citizens had been secured, by demanding of them such 
 payments, in the form of taxes, as their means would 
 allow. 
 
 This illustrates the fact, which Mr. George Aldrich 
 so well states in his History of Walpole. He says, 
 " The influence of the Bellows family in the town was 
 the natural outgrowth of their wealth and higher at- 
 tainments, and was in perfect harmony with the princi- 
 ples of human nature. No instance is known where an 
 abuse of the family's influence was felt." 
 
CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 Passing from the old "Hill Meeting-House," — built 
 in 1786, with its immense timbers of white oak, some 
 of them thirty feet long, and square hewn, fourteen 
 inches on a side, as sound to-day as when those hardy 
 settlers cut and framed them with such toilsome labor, 
 — passing from this building, let us turn our eyes to 
 some of the dwelling-houses of that day. 
 
 Of the houses built and occupied by the first gener- 
 ation, or their children, several are still standing firm 
 and sound, good for another hundred years ; and many 
 of these are occupied by the direct descendants of the 
 original owners. Thus the large house, built in 1762, 
 by the old colonel near the fort, is held by Thomas 
 Bellows, grandson of the settler. It stands there, as 
 of old, with its broad acres, on an elevation which com- 
 mands the rich meadows up and down the river. 
 
 The house built by Col. John, and for years filled 
 with sons and daughters, was for the lifetime of another 
 generation occupied by the colonel's son, Hubbard Bel- 
 lows ; while for many years past, until recently, it has 
 been owned and occupied by Rev. Dr. Bellows, as his 
 summer home, where he retreated from the city's din 
 for rest. It is now in possession of his son, Rev. Rus- 
 sell N. Bellows ; and, on its broad piazzas, it welcomes 
 its guests as of old times, where they can look upon 
 the village beneath them and the hills and mountains 
 far away. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 353 
 
 Just across the street from Col. John's house is that 
 built by him in 1812 for his son Josiah, Si, 2d. For 
 some fifty years after Josiah gave it up, it was owned 
 and occupied by our Uncle and Aunt Knapp, — she a 
 grand-daughter of the founder, — and is to-day held by 
 their oldest son, Francis Bellows Knapp. 
 
 On the opposite hill, the old mansion house built by 
 Uncle Si, youngest son of Col. Benjamin, is held by his 
 grandson, John W. Hayward, who is interested in pre- 
 serving the memory and transmitting the virtues of his 
 ancestors. 
 
 On the same hill-side, looking southward, is the spa- 
 cious house where Uncle Si's son, Josiah, lived ; it is 
 held still by one who bears the same name, with the 
 well-earned title of judge prefixed. 
 
 In the centre of the village, between these houses on 
 the hills, stands as it stood in old Parson Fessenden's 
 day, Aunt Richardson's house, with its look of oldtime 
 comfort ; this, too, is still in the family, owned and 
 occupied by her who was Martha Bellows, and her son 
 Thomas Bellows Peck, named for his honored grandsire. 
 Uncle Squire. 
 
 And here, separated only by a garden from Aunt 
 Richardson's house, we see still standing the house of 
 Uncle Abel Bellows, to which I have so often referred, 
 and in which I saw so much of joy and hospitality, 
 away back some three-quarters of a century ago. 
 Directly across the street is the spacious dwelling 
 where Gen. Benjamin Bellows lived; the house stanch 
 in its timbers as the man himself was in his moral 
 build. 
 
 The house that was owned by Col. Caleb Bellows 
 has indeed passed into other hands ; but of these grand 
 
354 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 old mansions, some of them built over a hundred years 
 ago, six still remain, as we see, in the possession of 
 direct descendants. These houses were all built with 
 the idea of space and comfort and endurance, with solid 
 masonry and heavy timbers. They had large windows 
 for the sunlight to come in, and great, welcoming open 
 fireplaces, and the traditional long entry, wide and high, 
 running through the middle of the house ; in some of 
 them a similar great entry also on the second floor. 
 The carpenter work and finish of these houses show, as 
 has been suggested, that the mechanics employed were 
 masters of their trade, and had the English thorough- 
 ness and patience, and the English model of building 
 before their eyes. The immense amount of panel wain- 
 scoting in some of these old mansions tells of the time 
 and money expended in their building. 
 
 We may mention, too, that these seven houses had 
 each originally that ancient square roof, running up 
 from each side toward the centre, sometimes finished 
 with a heavy balustrade around the roof, and a large 
 square centre section raised vertically above the rest 
 of the roof, with small windows in it, and a balustrade 
 finishing this also. 
 
 Such was the original style of roof ; but the difficulty 
 of keeping so many ridges in repair, and the spirit of 
 modern improvement, (i*) have removed from several of 
 these old mansions these attractive square roofs, and 
 substituted the barn-like roof, with its staring gable. 
 Photograph pictures of these houses, as they no,w stand, 
 I hope to be able to obtain, to be bound in with these 
 pages. They will show, in a measure, to the present 
 generation what the home of their grandparents were 
 in outward appearance, though they can never tell to 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 355 
 
 them, what they do to me, of the life and sunshine, the 
 large hospitality and good cheer, the beauty, refine- 
 ment, and loving hearts, the joys and the sorrows, that 
 in times long gone found place beneath those shelter- 
 ing roofs. 
 
 At the last moment it has been suggested to me to 
 bind in with these pages pictures of such of the kin- 
 dred, now gone, as had their likenesses preserved. Of 
 these I have obtained only a few, — those nearest at 
 hand. Had time allowed, I should gladly have inserted 
 more. Taken as these pictures are from crayons or 
 miniatures, they unavoidably lack the vivacity of life ; 
 but to some of us, at least, they will help to recall feat- 
 ures with which of old we were familiar, and voices that 
 were dear. 
 
CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 In my own rambling way, by narratives, anecdotes, 
 trivial incidents, and pictures of every-day life, as I 
 promised to do in the beginning, have I told you, scat- 
 tered along through these pages, of our founder and of 
 his immediate descendants, and of my own impression 
 of them. And I wish it were in my power to follow 
 out in the various lines all the descendants, — both 
 those who have gone, and those now living, — and thus 
 show how rich an inheritance, in the form of true men 
 and strong, virtuous women, those noble ancestors of 
 ours bequeathed to the world. But this is not in my 
 power. And if I have omitted the mention, as I doubt- 
 less have done, of individuals whom their descendants 
 or near relatives feel ought surely to have been brought 
 forward, I can only say, I have written of those I really 
 knew about, or could readily obtain knowledge of. I 
 presume I shall myself, after these pages have gone out 
 of my hands, recall memories of others whom I shall 
 regret not having thought of earlier. But so it is.* 
 
 * Even now, since I wrote that sentence, some interesting information has come in to 
 me from the far West about one branch of the family of which I had lost all trace, — de- 
 scendants of Sophia Bellows, who was a grand-daughter of that honored and much-loved 
 man, Col. John Bellows. She married Joel H. Tracy, civil engineer ; who after holding 
 many positions of trust and honor, though advanced in years, enlisted with two of his 
 sons at his side during the war; one of whom, Edward by name, a captain and staff- 
 officer with Gen. Newton, fell mortally wounded in the battle of St. Marks, Florida. By 
 the same mail, also, came to me information from Canada about certain descendants of 
 Uncle Ben. But it is too late for me to insert all this, as all my previous pages, where 
 these things belong, are in the hands of the printer. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 357 
 
 I now propose, as furnishing the best possible in- 
 dorsement of my estimates of the characters and the 
 characteristics of the earliest generation, to quote for 
 you the series of regular toasts which were prepared 
 with discriminating care by our Uncle Knapp, referring 
 to the ten children of the old colonel; presenting the 
 names of the sons and daughters in the order of birth, 
 — toasts read and responded to at the time of the fam- 
 ily gathering, in 1854. 
 
 I. The toast-master read as follows : " Having hon- 
 ored the trunk, we will now call your attention to the 
 ten principal branches of the tree. 
 
 "Abigail, the first child, the fondling of her father's 
 heart, was beautiful and lovely, of sweet temper and 
 engaging manners, intelligent and good. 
 
 "When at school, at Northampton, in the twentieth 
 year of her age, she left this earthly scene and took 
 her upward flight. 
 
 " The memory of Abigail, the first child of the foun- 
 der of this town, the fairest, earliest-blown flower in 
 Walpole, was consecrated an offering to heaven." 
 
 "II. The second child was of small size, but of a 
 bright mind and keen wit. He loved social intercourse, 
 and was the life of it. Abounding in humor and ingen- 
 ious repartee, he delighted the young, and made the aged 
 throw off their gravity. The spirit of avarice never 
 got hold of him, and its meanness never degraded him. 
 Tranquillity and freedom from care were his ruling pas- 
 sion." 
 
 " The memory of Peter, the first son : 
 
 " Some place their bliss in action, some in ease ; 
 Those call it pleasure, and contentment these : " 
 
3S8 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 " III. The second son commanded great respect by his 
 personal appearance, even where the weight of his char- 
 acter was not known, an unaffected suavity and polite- 
 ness conciliated esteem and affection. His integrity 
 and veracity were unimpeachable. Avarice never ap- 
 proached him. He found greater pleasure in giving 
 than in accumulating. His hospitality, like that of his 
 father, was limited only by the opportunities of exercis- 
 ing it. His friendship was lasting. The purity of his 
 character defied suspicion. His political views were 
 formed under Washington influences. He was a noble- 
 man, with republican principles. He had wisdom to aid 
 in the councils of his country, and courage and skill to 
 fight her battles. 
 
 "The memory of Gen. Benjamin Bellows: Nature 
 stamped him with her imperial signet, 'to give the 
 world assurance of a man.'" 
 
 " IV. The third son had a manly and commanding 
 bearing. His countenance had no commonplace ex- 
 pression. He had a quickness of perception, sound- 
 ness of judgment, and a penetrating foresight. Shrewd 
 and calculating, his success in business was conspic- 
 uous. He accumulated safely, and in his family ex- 
 pended liberally. He was punctual and exact in the 
 fulfilment of his promises, and brought others up to the 
 same standard. The careless, lazy, or slack found with 
 him neither sympathy nor indulgence. His determined 
 energy was felt in whatever he engaged. His virtues 
 and talents gained esteem, and commanded respect. 
 
 "The memory of Col. John Bellows, the third son : 
 'The hand of the diligent maketh rich.' 'He who 
 causes two spears of grass to grow where only one grew 
 before is a benefactor to mankind.' " 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 359 
 
 " V. The fourth son was a man of commanding per- 
 son and dignified manners ; of enlarged benevolence and 
 humanity; much loved and confided in for his rectitude, 
 and often referred to for the soundness of his judgment 
 and the weight of his character. As a Revolutionary 
 patriot, he was ardent and active. He was a faithful 
 and tender husband, and an affectionate father. ' The 
 elements were so kindly mixed in him' that neither 
 malice, envy, nor ill-nature ever found even a transient 
 entrance into his heart. He was of that sensitive tem- 
 perament which belongs to a poetic love of the beauty 
 and harmony of nature, and of great susceptibility to 
 what is intellectually and morally sublime. It was be- 
 cause of this sensitive temperament that he received 
 so great a shock from misfortune as to bring a lasting 
 cloud over his intellectual vision. 
 
 " The memory of Col. Joseph Bellows : ' The pure in 
 heart shall see God.' " 
 
 " VI. The second daughter was a lady of great worth. 
 When young, she was the observed of all observers, 
 and ' cynosure of neighboring eyes.' She was a woman 
 of quick perceptions and clear judgment ; of great 
 cheerfulness of temper and playful wit ; a thorough and 
 practical housewife, and a delightful companion to the 
 old and the young : for although she lived to be more 
 than eighty years of age, her heart never lost any of its 
 warmth or freshness. From natural temperament and 
 religious influence, she was social, kind, benevolent, 
 charitable in her opinions, compassionate and forgiving. 
 
 " The memory of Abigail Richardson : It lies em- 
 balmed in the hearts of all who knew her." 
 
 "VII. The fifth son was of great stature, and remark- 
 able strength, and of an easy and kind temper. The 
 
360 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 restless spirit of ambition never possessed him, or in- 
 volved him in its complicated intrigues. He never 
 entered the list of competitors for wealth or glory. 
 
 "The memory of Theodore Bellows: The Samson of 
 the family, who never had his locks shorn by a Delilah, 
 or had any quarrel with Philistines, or was compelled 
 to grind in a prison." 
 
 "VIII. The sixth son was a person extensively 
 known, and, wherever known, loved and respected. 
 Much employed in offices of private trust, his honesty 
 was proverbial, his veracity was unquestionable, his 
 judgment was never blinded nor perverted by strong 
 passions. He was, in all matters referred to him, just 
 as Aristides. His patriotism was not ephemeral, but 
 a permanent principle and an unchangeable feeling. 
 His integrity, like that of Fabricius, was incorruptible, 
 by offers of wealth or power. As a lover of improve- 
 ments, his purse was opened liberally. A friend of 
 good institutions, he was always generous in support of 
 them. In public offices, he commanded confidence and 
 respect. Popularity followed him. Benevolence was 
 the most striking trait in his character. With him, it 
 was not only a principle, but an innate warmth of 
 heart. The needy never carried away an empty bag 
 from his granary. He was the friend of humanity, 
 and the benefactor of the destitute. 
 
 "The memory of Thomas Bellows : Always a useful, 
 exemplary, and honorable man. 'The memory of the 
 just is blessed.' " 
 
 " IX. The third daughter was a lady of commanding 
 person and dignified manners. Her mind had great 
 strength and clearness. Her conversation was marked 
 by argument and seriousness. Her courage was heroic. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 36 I 
 
 She never set up new theories on the rights of women, 
 but with readiness and fidelity performed all the duties 
 which God and nature taught her belonged to the good 
 wife, tender mother, and to an exemplary member of 
 society. She lived and died an earnest and devout 
 Christian. 
 
 "The memory of Mary Kinsley: 'Blessed are the 
 dead that die in the Lord.' " 
 
 "X. The seventh son was a man of strong mind and 
 inflexible integrity, liberal and just. His promise was 
 a bond which was never forfeited. When intrusted 
 with a secret, no one could find the key or pick the 
 lock which secured it. He despised flippery and osten- 
 tation ; was firm in his resolves, and persevering in his 
 purposes. His house offered a generous board and a 
 hearty welcome. The love of notoriety never allured 
 him. Political office he never sought or desired. He 
 lived and died a private, a useful, intelligent citizen. 
 
 "The memory of Josiah Bellows, youngest son of the 
 Founder of Walpole : His tombstone may say, — 
 
 ' What few vain marbles can : 
 Here lies an honest man.'" 
 
CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 From time to time, in this narrative, I have referred 
 to the Family Meeting, and made several extracts from 
 the records and addresses. An account of that gather- 
 ing obviously claims a place in my pages ; and, as I 
 cannot possibly put it into a more compact form than 
 as it stands in the Bellows Book, so-called, I copy from 
 that, and place it in an appendix. In the appendix will 
 be found also the circular referred to in the account 
 which I now give. I append that circular, because it 
 indicates the nature of the appeal to which so many of 
 the kindred cordially responded. 
 
 As these memories of the past were commenced with 
 a glimpse into the dear old home of our great-grandpar- 
 ents, when many years of life were apparently before 
 them, which were evidently lived in a most generous 
 and hospitable manner, I have thought it might be in- 
 teresting to his descendants to know something of the 
 old colonel's provision for the close of his life, and for 
 those who were to come after him. Consequently, in 
 the Appendix, I shall make a copy of his will ; and I 
 give it to our kindred as a relic worthy of being kept 
 in the family archives. 
 
 It is my hope to append to these narratives a genea- 
 logical table of the Bellows family. In»the preparation 
 of this, I am dependent upon the skill and kindness of 
 our kinsman, Henry Gassett Wheelock, of New York, 
 a grandson of Uncle Si Bellows. He is familiar as no 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 363 
 
 one else is with the subject. Whether he will find 
 time' to prepare the table, I do not know ; but, if it does 
 not appear appended to this volume, we will hope that 
 it may soon be perfected by him, and issued on a sep- 
 arate sheet for those of the kindred who may apply 
 for it. 
 
 In conclusion : Fully realizing what my readers will 
 find in this book that may seem to them trivial, or that 
 they do not deem essential, and how much they will 
 fail to find which they might desire and expect to meet, 
 I will adopt the words which a friend recently pointed 
 out to me, as perhaps meeting my case, when I told 
 him how I had collected my materials, and what I felt 
 to be the defects of these pages of "Narratives." He 
 referred, he said, to the words which formed the con- 
 cluding sentence of a magazine article that he had 
 just been reading, entitled "The Tories and Loyalists 
 of America." 
 
 The writer declares, " On a final reading of this con- 
 tribution of mine, it suggests to me some resemblance 
 to a trunk, hastily packed for a journey, with an oppor- 
 tunity for selecting from a sufficiently large wardrobe, 
 indeed ; but, when the trunk is resorted to, it is found 
 to contain some articles far better fitted for the seclu- 
 sion of a private apartment than for use in public ! 
 and to lack many others more adaptable, but unfortu- 
 nately left behind." 
 
[Appendix A.] 
 
 THE CHARTER OF WALPOLE. 
 
 The charter under which Col. Bellows obtained Walpole 
 is as follows : — 
 
 " George II., by advice of Benning Wentworth, Governor, 
 granted unto his loving subjects, inhabitants of New-Hamp- 
 shire, and his majesty's other governments, in equal shares, 
 whose names are entered on his grant, to be divided among 
 them in sixty-seven equal shares, all that tract of land in said 
 province of New-Hampshire described, etc., etc. And the 
 same is incorporated as Walpole, and inhabitants thereof are 
 enfranchised and declared entitled to the privileges of other 
 towns in said province, and as soon as there shall be fifty 
 families resident there, shall have the liberty of holding two 
 fairs annually, and shall also have a market opened and 
 kept one or more days in each week, as may be thought 
 advantageous. The first meeting of said town shall be held 
 third Wednesday of March next, (1752,) and Benj. Bellows 
 is appointed moderator of such meeting, and to call the 
 same. 
 
 " To hold said land upon these conditions, namely, every 
 grantee shall, within five years, cultivate five acres of land 
 for every fifty acres of his share, and shall continue to im- 
 prove and settle the same by additional cultivation, on pen- 
 alty of forfeiture of his share. 
 
 " That all white and other pine trees, fit for our royal navy, 
 be preserved for use, and none be cut or felled without his 
 majesty's special license, upon same forfeiture and punish- 
 ment of any acts of parliament now or hereafter enacted. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 365 
 
 "That before division of land, a tract or centre of township 
 shall be marked in town-lots, one of which shall be allotted 
 to each grantee, of the contents of one acre, yielding and 
 paying therefor to us, etc., for ten years, one ear of Indian 
 corn, annually, on first day of January, if lawfully demanded. 
 
 " Every, proprietor, settler, or inhabitant shall yield and 
 pay us, etc., yearly, after the expiration of ten years, one 
 shilling, proclamation money, for every hundred acres he so 
 owns, settles, or possesses, and so in proportion for greater 
 or less tracts, which said money shall be paid to our coun- 
 cil-chamber, or to officers appointed to receive it. 
 
 (Signed by) 
 
 "BENNING WENTWORTH. 
 
 "In testimony, etc., Feb. 13, 1752, and twenty-fifth year 
 of George's reign. Recorded by Theodore Atkinson, Sec." 
 
 A plan of the town accompanies the original charter. 
 Nine years afterward, the following entry is made (Lib. 1, 
 Charter Records, fol. 229) : " The grantees having repre- 
 sented that, by reason of Indian wars, it has become imprac- 
 ticable to comply with the conditions of the grant; the time 
 is lengthened one year, and one year thereafter annually, 
 until our plenary instructions shall be received. Dated 
 March 12, 1761. First year of George III." 
 
 [Appendix B.] 
 CONCERNING "THE BELLOWS COAT OF ARMS." 
 
 The coat of arms, of which we give an engraving, is thus de- 
 scribed : " The field or ground of the escutcheon is black, 
 the bars interlaced are of a gold color, the chevron is blue, 
 and bears three lions' heads (erased of the second) in gold. 
 The crest is an arm embowed, habited, the hand proper 
 grasping a chalice pouring water (belle eau) into a basin : 
 Motto, Tout d'en haut." 
 
366 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 The sentiment of this coat of arms was seized upon with 
 rare felicity by Dr. Bellows, at the time of the dedication of 
 the monument; and I copy here his closing paragraph, as 
 a fitting explanation of the significance of these emblems : — 
 
 "Yonder marble monument is a fitting tribute to the worth 
 which created from the forest so fair and rich a scene as this, 
 — which originated a race such as has gathered around it. 
 But a righteous Providence was beforehand with us, and 
 had anticipated the fitting memorial of our honored an- 
 cestor. The Falls themselves, — Bellows Falls, — they are 
 the everlasting memorial of him who chose their neighbor- 
 hood for his home, and the home of his race. Everlasting, — 
 because, while their waters continue to be replenished from 
 the snows of distant mountains and the contributions of a 
 thousand streams, their name is embodied in the topography 
 and history of our country and the world. They bear his 
 name as far as the sound of the English language is known, 
 and will hand it down as long as it lasts. Bursting through 
 mountain walls, and falling on rocks, they fitly typify his 
 resolute spirit, which no obstacles could hinder, no hardships 
 break. Beautiful waters, we have seen, is the etymological 
 purport of our family fame. The Falls do but repeat their 
 own praise in taking the name of their founder. 
 
 "The old crest, an arm raised to pour water from a chalice 
 into a basin, anticipated the ornament of our Walpole Home, 
 and the natural feature with which our family name is alone 
 publicly associated, — Bellows Falls. Let us make that crest 
 universal and honorable, symbolical and Christian. ' Whoso 
 giveth a cup of cold water only, in the name of a disciple, 
 shall in no wise lose his reward.' Type of purity, of truth, 
 of abundance, we adopt the cup of water, taken from our 
 Founder's Falls, as the family crest, and with it that beauti- 
 ful motto, so pious and so expressive : — 
 
 ' All from on high.' 
 (Tout d'en haut.) 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 367 
 
 " ' Every good and perfect gift cometh down from above.' " 
 God gave us our fathers ; and, while the waters pour over the 
 Great Fall of our river, we will not forget them, or Him. 
 
 [Appendix C] 
 
 COPY OF THE LAST WILL OF COL. BENJAMIN 
 BELLOWS. 
 
 Bit i^e Name of 0oU, ^men: 
 
 I, Benjamin Bellows, of Walpole, in the County of 
 Cheshire and State of New Hampshire, Esq., being of health 
 of body, and of perfect mind and memory, thanks be given to 
 God therefor, and calling to mind the mortality of my body, 
 and knowing that it is appointed for all men once to die, do 
 make and ordain this my last will and testament ; that is to 
 say, principally and first of all, I do give and recommend my 
 soul into the hands of Almighty God that gave it ; and my 
 body I recommend to the earth, to be buried in a decent 
 Christian manner, at the discretion of my executor, nothing 
 doubting, but at the general resurrection I shall receive the 
 same again by the mighty power of God ; and as touching 
 such worldly estate wherewith it has pleased God to bless me 
 with in this life, I give and devise and dispose of the same 
 in the following manner and form : and, first of all, I give 
 and bequeath to my beloved wife, Mary Bellows, the im- 
 provement of the one third part of my now dwelling-house, 
 and the third part of my now improved lands in Walpole, 
 with the improvement of my barn on the east side of the 
 road, so long as she, the said Mary, shall continue my widow. 
 I also give to my said wife one yoke of oxen, three cows, 
 and one horse, which she shall please to choose out of my 
 stock ; also a cart, plough, yoke, and chain, all which she is 
 to have the improvement of during her life, these ,then to be 
 
368 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 returned, or the like stock, to my children ; and I further 
 give to my said wife one third part of all my household fur- 
 niture, to be set off to her to dispose of as she shall think fit 
 amongst my children as she shall see cause. I also give her 
 a side-saddle and bridle, and fifty pounds lawful money, to 
 be paid her when she shall call for the same ; and if my said 
 wife shall see cause to marry, then the improvement of my 
 house and lands to return to my children, that is, willed to 
 her, she has done with them, and in lieu thereof, to have a 
 hundred dollars per year, paid her by my children, to be 
 equally divided, that is, about eleven dollars each per year. 
 
 Imprimis. I give to my well-beloved son, Peter Bellows, 
 and his children, two whole rights of land in Rockingham, 
 in the County of Cumberland and State of New- York, con- 
 taining about seven hundred acres, and is No. two and No. 
 three in the twentieth range of lots in said town, and lies 
 altogether as by the plan may appear, and is the rights 
 drawn to the names of Benjamin French and Peter Bellows. 
 I also give to him and his children six hundred acres of land 
 in Walpole, and lyeth above the Great Falls on Connecticut 
 River ; said land lyeth in Walpole, and bounds west on said 
 river ; north on land called the Governor's farm ; east on my 
 own land, and south on land of Col. Atkinson. Also the 
 ninth parts of all the lands I shall leave in Rockingham un- 
 disposed of, which, together with the lands I have given him 
 by deed in Charlestown, to be the full part and portion out 
 of my estate, with one yoke of oxen, two cows, and a horse, 
 and one hundred pounds in cash, to be laid out to finish his 
 house, and fifty pounds to cloathe his family. 
 
 Impr. I give and bequeath to my well-beloved son, Ben- 
 jamin Bellows, four hundred acres of land in Walpole ; 
 bounded south on the town line ; west on land sold to one 
 Burt and one Fisk ; north on land sold to William Smeed ; 
 east on land of Booth, Nicholas, and Maj'r Richardson, and 
 the ninth part of what land I shall leave undisposed of in 
 Rockingham, which, together with what I have given him by 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 369 
 
 deed, and the fourth part of all my estate which may be left, 
 not disposed of after my estate is settled and paid out all 
 legacies ; also I give him one hundred pounds for his trouble 
 in settling my estate ; and I further give him one yoke of 
 oxen, two cows, and a horse. 
 
 /mpr. I give to my well-beloved son, John Bellows, a cer- 
 tain piece of land in Walpole aforesaid, and contains about 
 four hundred acres, be the same more or less ; and it 
 begins at the north-east corner of a hundred acre lot given 
 him by deed, and to run north ten degrees ; east till it 
 comes to the south line of Col. Atkinson's land ; then runs 
 west on Col. Atkinson's land till it comes to what he 
 has a deed of, till it comes to Connecticut River ; and I 
 further give him four hundred acres of land east of the 
 line given heretofore, to lye in a square form, where he 
 shall pitch the same, and this, with the ninth part of what 
 land I shall leave unsold in Rockingham, with what I have 
 heretofore given him deed of, to be his full part and share 
 in my estate, except one yoke of oxen, two cows, and a horse, 
 which is to be given out of ray stock. 
 
 Impr. I give to my well-beloved son, Joseph Bellows, all 
 my lands which I have in Luningburgh, that he has not here- 
 tofore a deed of ; as also what land I have in a town in New- 
 Hampshire, called Mason, being half of a right drawn to the 
 name of John Butterfield ; also all the land I have in the 
 township of Rindge, which was about five hundred acres, but 
 part of it is sold to pay taxes ; also two hundred acres in 
 the township of Fitzwilliam, as may appear drawn to me, 
 and I further give him the ninth part of what land I shall 
 leave undisposed of in the township of Rockingham, which, 
 together with what he has a deed of, to be his part of my 
 estate, except one yoke of oxen, two cows, and a horse, which 
 I further give him out of my stock. 
 
 Impr. I give to my well-beloved daughter, Abigail Bel- 
 lows, my house and land I bought of Moses Brown, on the 
 east side of the road to Westmoreland ; as also fifty acres of 
 
37° PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 the lot Denison lives on, on the south side, and about twen- 
 ty-three acres adjoining, called " Mepas " lot, which land I 
 give to her and heirs of her body for ever, not to be disposed 
 of out of the family. Said lands contain about one hundred 
 and thirty acres, the house, and the house Doctor Ashley 
 lives in. I do also give to my said daughter Abigail the one 
 third part of all my household furniture after my decease, to 
 be kept for her till she comes to the age of twenty-one or 
 marries ; the improvement of said lands be for her use im- 
 proved by my executor, till she comes to age ; and I further 
 give her the sixth part of all my personal estate that shall 
 be left after my estate is settled ; and I give her the ninth 
 part of all my lands that I shall not dispose of in Rocking- 
 ham ; and I further give my daughter forty acres of land, 
 being the land Daniel Bixby lives on, which I give to her 
 and her heirs for ever, bounded north on land of Aaron 
 Hodgskins ; west on land of Delano ; south on lands of 
 Hinds ; east on Bundy. I also give her one yoke of oxen, 
 two cows, and a horse, and one hundred pounds in money, 
 which is her portion of my estate. 
 
 Impr. I give to well-beloved son, Theodore Bellows, 
 about eighty acres of meadow land and about two hundred 
 acres of upland, lying adjoining to the land given to John 
 Bellows, and south of his land, beginning at an oak stump 
 in the corner of John Bellows's land fence, and runs north, 
 as the fence runs to the river, about twenty-six rods ; then 
 runs down by the river about one hundred and fifty rods 
 to a walnut tree, marked near the end of the ditch ; then 
 runs on the ditch; goes through the meadow to the end of 
 the ditch ; then to run east by the needle about four hun- 
 dred rods to the line of John Bellows's land to a white oak 
 tree; marked for a corner ; then to run north on John Bel- 
 lows's land, as the same is marked to a corner, being a white 
 oak ; then to run west on his land to the first-mentioned 
 stump. And I also give about two hundred and forty acres 
 to my said son Theodore, called my great pasture, bounded 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 371 
 
 west on land of Col. Atkinson ; south on land of Jona'n 
 Hall ; east partly on land of Babcock and the road as it is 
 now fenced ; and north on land of John Bellows ; and I fur- 
 ther give my son Theodore three hundred pounds in money, 
 to be paid him by my executors, to help build him a house 
 and barn, to be laid out for that use by my executors ; as 
 also the ninth part of what lands I shall leave undisposed of 
 in Rockingham, and the fourth part of what estate shall be 
 left, both real and personal, in Walpole, and part of my live 
 stock, namely, one yoke of oxen, two cows, and one horse, 
 also a cart, yoke, and chain. 
 
 Impr. I give to my beloved son, Thomas Bellows, about 
 three hundred and fifty acres of land and meadow in Wal- 
 pole aforesaid, with all the buildings thereon, being the 
 house and land I now live on and improve, reserving to his 
 mother the part I heretofore willed her. Said land begins 
 at the walnut tree marked, at the river at the end of the 
 ditch being the south-west corner of Theodore's land, and 
 runs down the river one hundred and twenty rods to a wal- 
 nut stump, with a stake and some stones about it near the 
 lower fence ; then runs east through the meadow till it comes 
 to the meadow fence ; then runs south about twenty rods as 
 the fence stands to a corner ; then runs east to a great white 
 pine, so as to take the spring, and so to continue east by the 
 needle till it comes to the line of John Bellows's land ; then 
 runs northerly on said John's land, as the same is marked 
 on trees, to the south-east corner of Theodore's land ; then 
 runs west by Theodore's land to the east end of the ditch, 
 so on the ditch to the first-mentioned corner. And I further 
 give to my said son Thomas three hundred acres of land on 
 the east line of said town, to begin at Col. Atkinson's corner, 
 and run south to the end of the lots laid out, being about 
 two hundred and sixty rods ; then to run west as the lot 
 lyeth and on Col. Atkinson's till it makes three hundred 
 acres ; and I give him the ninth part of what land I leave 
 unsold in Rockingham, and the fourth part of the estate I 
 
372 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 shall leave undisposed of in Walpole, and I give him one 
 yoke of oxen, two cows, and a horse, also a cart, yoke, and 
 chain. 
 
 Impr. I give to my well-beloved daughter, Molley Bel- 
 lows, about two hundred and fifty acres of land and meadow 
 in Westminster, in the County of Cumberland and New 
 State, so called, adjoining to Connecticut River, being the 
 nine first meadow lots in the Governour's meadow, so called, 
 and four fifty acre lots, being No. twenty-two, twenty-three 
 in the first range of fifty acre lots, and No. twenty-six in the 
 second range of fifty acres, and another fifty acre lot I had 
 of Bildad Andrews, with all the buildings thereon, which I 
 give to my said daughter Molley and the heirs of her body 
 forever, not to be disposed of from them. I also give to my 
 said daughter the one third part of all my household furni- 
 ture, which I shall leave to be set off to her, and kept safe 
 by my executors for her till she comes to the age of twenty- 
 one or marries, and the improvement of said lands to be for 
 her use to bring her up at the discretion of my executors, 
 and I further give her the ninth part of all my land that I 
 shall not dispose of in Rockingham, and one yoke of oxen, 
 two cows, and a horse, and one hundred pounds in money, 
 which is her part of my estate. 
 
 Impr. I give to my well-beloved son, Josiah Bellows, 
 about four hundred acres of land and meadow in Walpole, 
 and beginning at a walnut stump and stake and stones, 
 being the south-west corner of Thomas Bellows's land, and 
 runs south on the river till it comes to land of Doctr. Chase ; 
 then east on said Chase's land and runeth to the meeting- 
 house land ; thence on that and land of Mr. Sparhawk and 
 Mr. Fessenden to the north end of his land ; then runs east 
 by said Fessenden's land to land Trotts ; then on land of 
 John Kilburn ; then on land till it comes to Moses Stearns ; 
 then on land of Stearns about north-west to a road ; then on 
 said road till it comes to Thomas Bellows ; then west on his 
 land to the first mentioned corner by the river. Also a lot 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 373 
 
 of land, called Jonathan Jennison's lot, being about one hun- 
 dred acres, and bounded south on land of Mr. Sparhawk, 
 west on Kilbourn's, and north on Hartwell, east on Bordman. 
 And I give him about thirty-three acres of land in Westmin- 
 ster, being a house lot and three meadow lots where my 
 potash house is. And I also give him the ninth part of what 
 land I shall leave in Rockingham, and three hundred pounds 
 in money, to help build him a house and barn ; and I fur- 
 ther give him the fourth part of all my lands which is not 
 here willed, and the fourth part of my personal estate not 
 disposed of, and one yoke of oxen, two cows, and a horse, 
 and a cart yoke and chain. 
 
 Impr. I give to the town of Walpole one hundred acres 
 of land in Walpole for the use of a Grammar School to be 
 kept at the School house near where the meeting house now 
 stands, provided the town will clear and put under improve- 
 ment sixty acres of the land in six years, which improve- 
 ment is to be let for the use of said school and no other use 
 made thereof; said land to be laid out by a committee, 
 where it is not heretofore disposed of. 
 
 Impr. I give to my daughter in law, Mary Willard, a 
 seventy acre lot in Keene, on the east line of the town, 
 according as the same is laid out ; and I give it to her and 
 her children born of her. 
 
 Impr. I give to my son in law, John Jennison, fifty acres 
 of land in Walpole, north of the road to Alstead, in a good 
 form, to be laid where he shall pitch the same between the 
 road and Col. Atkinson's land, not before disposed of, for one 
 of his sons. 
 
 Impr. I give to my son in law, Jonathan Jennison, a cow 
 and heifer two years old, and what money he owes to me, to 
 be discharged by my executors. 
 
 And my will further is, that all my lands and personal 
 estate, if any be found after that my debts and charges be 
 paid, be equally divided among my nine children, and the will 
 further is, if it should please God to take any of my children 
 
374 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 out of the world before they have children of their own, then 
 the estate I give them be equally divided between the rest 
 of my surviving children. And I do hereby appoint my well- 
 beloved wife, Mary Bellows, and my son, Benjamin Bellows, 
 to be my executors to this my last will and testament. And 
 I hereby give my executors full power to give deed to any 
 and all persons that I have contracted with for lands ; they 
 fulfilling their contracts precisely and paying the same fully 
 up, according to their bargains. And I do hereby utterly 
 disallow and revoke and disannul all and every other former 
 wills and testaments by me heretofore made, in any way before. 
 Ratifying and confirming this to be my last will and testa- 
 ment. 
 
 In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and seal 
 this twenty-third day of June, Anno Domini 1777. 
 
 Signed, pronounced and declared this my last will and 
 testament in presence of Elisha Harding. 
 
 Martin Ashley, B. Bellows. [Seal.] 
 
 Joseph Douglas. 
 
 The foregoing will was proved in the usual form by 
 
 Thos. Sparhawk, J. Probate. 
 
 Recorded by Ichabod Fisher, Redgr. Probate. 
 
 [Appendix D.] 
 
 CIRCULAR ADDRESSED TO THE DESCENDANTS OF COL. 
 
 BENJAMIN BELLOWS. 
 To : Walpole, N.H., 1853. 
 
 Dear Cousin, — Many of the descendants of Col. Benja- 
 min Bellows, deeply impressed with their obligations to the 
 father of their family, and the founder of the beautiful town, 
 Walpole, have for many years contemplated the pleasure and 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 375 
 
 duty of erecting, in connection with their relatives absent 
 from the homestead, a monument to his worthy name, near 
 the spot where his ashes repose. The recent consecration 
 of the cemetery (an enlargement of the graveyard) has re- 
 vived the interest of the whole town in the memories of its 
 dead, and brought the indefinite project of a monument to 
 its founder to a direct point in the intentions of his descend- 
 ants. 
 
 At a recent meeting, held at the village-inn, where several 
 branches of the family were represented, after a full compar- 
 ison of views, a committee was appointed to procure an 
 appropriate design, with an estimate of the expense, and to 
 report upon the best method of obtaining the co-operation 
 of all Col. Bellows's descendants, in the proposed tribute to 
 his memory. The present circular embodies the results, and 
 completes the suggestions of this committee. 
 
 A table of all the living descendants has been made ; and, 
 in reviewing their number and character, we have experi- 
 enced an honest pride which every member of the race is 
 entitled to share and to express ; an honest pride which the 
 united family, we trust, will eagerly join to make public, per- 
 manent, and inspiring, by a monumental tribute to its father 
 and head. Col. Benjamin Bellows, who, a little more than 
 a hundred years ago, obtained a grant of a township of land, 
 and founded Walpole ; and, for many years, struggled with 
 eminent prudence and success with the hardships of a fron- 
 tier settlement, aggravated by the fierce border-conflicts of 
 the French and Indian wars, during which he frequently dis- 
 played the personal heroism of the distinguished partisan, 
 and the prudent skill of a veteran commander; detecting by 
 his sagacity the stratagems of the wily savages, and by his 
 commanding presence and cool courage exciting their fears 
 and defeating their attacks. 
 
 An extensive block-house on a rich meadow of the Con- 
 necticut was his fortress and dwelling, and gave to the pass- 
 ing stranger protection, a bountiful board, and a hearty 
 
376 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 welcome, prompted by a hospitality inborn and generous, but 
 unostentatious. 
 
 His great and enduring energy and sound judgment en- 
 abled him to overcome every obstacle ; and, by his efforts 
 and fostering care, the infant settlement grew and flourished ; 
 and, by his example of industry, integrity, and love of good 
 government, he implanted in it the vital principles of con- 
 tinued growth. He has bequeathed to his posterity an un- 
 sullied name, and a bright example of integrity, truth, and 
 duty. 
 
 In this contemplated monument we aim at two objects, — 
 gratitude to our ancestor, and justice to our future descend- 
 ants. The character of the man forbids alike meanness and 
 ostentation in his memorial ; and we have sought to avoid 
 both these extremes in our plan. We have no desire to 
 present him as a national benefactor, nor our family as one 
 of notoriety ; but self-respect and an affectionate veneration 
 for our ancestor justify and require a dignified memorial. 
 
 The design exhibits an obelisk of Italian marble, twenty 
 feet in height, with inscriptions and emblems on the four 
 sides, symbolical of Col. Bellows's history as a pioneer and 
 founder. The estimated cost, including an iron fence, is 
 fifteen hundred dollars. 
 
 It is manifestly desirable to extend the opportunity of con- 
 tributing to this monument — as a privilege too sacred to be 
 withheld — to each and every descendant of our founder. 
 This circular is therefore sent to every known descendant 
 of Col. Bellows. We ask a hearty, immediate response from 
 every man, woman, and child, in the form of a contribution 
 to the monument-fund, larger or smaller, as ability or feeling 
 shall warrant or demand. We shall be sadly mistaken in 
 the public-spirit, generous enterprise, and family feeling, if 
 any apathy or difficulty is met with in securing the means for 
 so honorable a purpose. 
 
 Any surplus in the fund may be appropriated by those 
 present at the consecration of the monument, at which time 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 377 
 
 it is proposed to have a general family gathering at the 
 home of our ancestors. 
 
 In bonds of blood and hereditary affection, 
 We subscribe ourselves, 
 
 Your friends and kinsmen, 
 
 Benjamin Bellows Grant, 
 A. Herbert Bellows, 
 Frederick Vose, 
 David Buffum, 
 Isaac F. Bellows, 
 Philip Peck, 
 Frederick N. Knapp. 
 
 [Appendix E.] 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE FAMILY MEETING. 
 OCT. II, 1854. 
 
 The descendants of Col. Benjamin Bellows, the founder of 
 Walpole, wishing to erect in the New Cemetery a monument 
 to the virtues of their ancestor, issued, by their committee, 
 a circular address to all the known members of the family, 
 stating the object, and requesting their co-operation. The 
 invitation was accepted with cheerful promptitude. The 
 sum of ^1,500 was raised. Early in October, the monument, 
 made of Italian marble, twenty feet in height, with appro- 
 priate inscriptions, and with figures emblematic of the fron- 
 tier life, beautifully sculptured, was erected by Bowker, 
 Torrey & Co., of Boston. 
 
 On the nth of October, the descendants came from the 
 north, south, east, and far west, to join in consecrating, with 
 filial veneration, this monumental memorial to their ancestor. 
 They met in the cemetery, at the foot of the monument. 
 The weather was delightful. The design of the meeting was 
 
378 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 announced by Benjamin Bellows Grant, Esq., the judicious, 
 energetic, and indefatigable chairman of the committee, 
 superintendent of the work and of subsequent arrangements. 
 
 The exercises were commenced with a devout and strik- 
 ingly appropriate prayer, by the Rev. John N. Bellows, of 
 Wilton. A short address was then made by the Rev. Dr. 
 Henry W. Bellows, of New York ; an original hymn fol- 
 lowed ; and the exercises at the cemetery were closed with 
 an earnest prayer and benediction by the Rev. Mr. Tilden, 
 of Walpole. The meeting then moved to the town hall, 
 where many had already assembled. Expectation sat with 
 ready ears and excited anticipations for the speaker. Dr. 
 Bellows, to begin his address. He held the audience in 
 riveted attention for three hours. The address was replete 
 with local history, biographical sketches, amusing anecdotes, 
 humorous allusions, and just remarks. It was delivered with 
 those various modulations of voice, occasional playful ex- 
 pressions of countenance, ease and elegance for which he is 
 distinguished. 
 
 The relatives and invited guests then passed into the lower 
 hall, a spacious room, which was tastefully decorated with 
 evergreens. A collation had been prepared by a committee 
 of ladies, with skill and elegance, and with a profusion 
 worthy of the olden days of Walpole, when its hills and 
 meadows flowed with milk and honey. After fasting from 
 breakfast until four o'clock, a blessing being asked, the 
 company, with no doubtful appetites, performed their parts 
 in a manner worthy the example of their healthy ancestors. 
 
 When the repast was finished, sentiments, speeches, and 
 odes followed, and were continued into the evening. 
 
 From the collation, many of the company, by an invitation 
 given to all, spent the remaining part of the evening at the 
 house of Dr. Bellows. His spacious rooms were filled. 
 Friends met there who had not seen one another for years. 
 Mutual congratulations, pleasant recognitions, agreeable in- 
 troductions to new connections, affectionate inquiries, and 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 379 
 
 interesting reminiscences were crowded into a few hours. 
 Some returned to tlieir homes on the following morning. 
 Those who remained spent the day in social calls, and in 
 visiting the spots endeared to them by recollections of their 
 childhood, or in hunting up the old fort and the battle- 
 grounds of Indian warfare. Some went to view Bellows 
 Falls ; others, the old burying-ground, to find the graves of 
 relatives and friends, and to read the tombstone annals of 
 the early settlers, — 
 
 "Men to fortune and to fame unknown." 
 
 "Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield; 
 
 Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke. 
 How jocund did they drive their team a-fieldl 
 
 How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! " 
 
 On Friday morning, nearly all those remaining from abroad 
 left for home, much gratified with the warm welcome which 
 they had received, and that they had visited the spot conse- 
 crated by so many tender recollections. 
 
 [Appendix F.] 
 
 CONCERNING "THE OLD HILL-MEETING-HOUSE." 
 
 Since writing what I did about Walpole, as it was in 
 former days, the old meeting-house — built more than a cen- 
 tury ago, and moved from the hill on to the common in 1820, 
 and in which so many hundred of our family have met for 
 worship — has been reconstructed as a town house, furnish- 
 ing now one of the most admirable and spacious town halls 
 in the State. This has been done at a cost of some ten 
 thousand dollars, and with excellent taste and judgment ; 
 thus, as we trust, preserving those immense oak timbers for 
 centuries to come. A short time since, nearly a thousand 
 of the citizens were gathered to listen to the Address of Ded- 
 
380 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 ication by Rev. Frederick N. Knapp, which followed the In- 
 troductory Address by Josiah G. Bellows, Chairman of the 
 Committee of Arrangements, each of these individuals being 
 a great-grandson of Col. Bellows, the first settler. The poem 
 written for the occasion was from the pen of Rev. Dr. Hill, 
 whose wife was daughter of Uncle Josiah Bellows, youngest 
 son of the old colonel. 
 
 This poem of Dr. Hill's I am going to insert here, as it 
 expresses the feeling with which we all think of the old 
 church, now converted into the new town hall. And I am 
 going to make, also, a short extract from Mr. Knapp's ad- 
 dress, where he refers to two of the ministers whom I have 
 had occasion so often to name, Mr. Fessenden and Mr. Dick- 
 inson. The picture of them which he draws in these few 
 lines will, I think, agree with the portraits of them which I 
 have painted. 
 
 He says : " While thinking of the ministers who have 
 preached in this house, one can hardly help wondering what 
 old Parson Fessenden, settled here just no years ago, and 
 Rev. Pliny Dickinson, his successor, would say, if they were 
 to look in here to-night, and see the transformation of this 
 building (in which together they preached for nearly three- 
 quarters of a century), and were to listen to some of the 
 views now advanced ; and be told, too, that the dedicating 
 service was to be closed with a grand ball and lively music ! 
 Parson Fessenden, the little man in black, arrayed in his 
 full wig, with short-clothes neatly buckled, or else 'straight- 
 laced ' at the knee ; he the man of inexhaustible wit and wis- 
 dom : Rev. Pliny Dickinson, the scholar and theologian, in 
 more modern garb, but himself tied up in a somewhat strait- 
 laced theology, — we cannot help wondering what they would 
 say. 
 
 "I am a little puzzled, I confess, to know just how they 
 would take it ; but from what I have been informed of the 
 characteristics of those two worthies, I am inclined to think 
 that Mr. Dickinson, after a little wise, evangelical hesitation. 
 
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 38 1 
 
 would say, frankly and generously, ' I am glad, my friends, 
 that the world is moving, even if, in its progress, it has left 
 me, and my theology, a little in the rear.' And as to Parson 
 Fessenden, I think that in his open-hearted, old-fashioned, 
 cordial manner, and with that keen, merry twinkle of the eye, 
 for which he was noted, he would say, ' Friends, all ! I re- 
 joice in these exercises, and in this day ; and if you'll excuse 
 my short clothes, I'll lead out a partner, and join in the 
 dance ! ' 
 
 " I am not sure, you know, that he would say this ; but I 
 think he would." 
 
 POEM 
 
 Written for the Dedication of the Town Hall at Walpole, 
 
 N.H., February, 1887, by Rev. Thomas Hill, 
 
 D.D., OF Portland, Me. 
 
 '"Tis sixty years since ! " Thus the wizard wrote, 
 Whose magic pen entranced the human race ; 
 
 'Tis sixty years since, faithful history writes. 
 Since these iirm timbers found this resting-place.* 
 
 Ah ! could some magic touch call back the sounds 
 Which, iirst and last, have made their fibres thrill. 
 
 With what a rapt attention we should hear, 
 What mingled feelings would our bosoms thrill ! 
 
 Come fancy's microphone, assist our sense ; 
 
 No old Cremona in a master's hand 
 Waits more obedient to pour forth its tones 
 
 Than now these timbers wait for thy command. 
 
 Hark ! first a woodland melody begins, 
 Of branches rustling in a summer breeze. 
 
 While squirrels chatter, and the insects chirp. 
 And birds are singing in the leafy trees. 
 
 * Built 1787. Removed to present site in 1826. 
 
382 PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 
 
 And next the woodman with remorseless axe 
 Cuts short this harmony of grateful sound ; 
 
 Before his sturdier blows, the sturdy oaks 
 
 Soon yield, and, crashing, fall upon the ground. 
 
 Then what a medley of confusing noise ! 
 
 Of axe and saw ; of mallet, chisel, plane ; 
 Of nails that sink beneath the hammer's blow ; 
 
 Till in new form the timbers stand again. 
 
 Now hearken to the sound of holy psalm, 
 Of fervent prayer, of argument and plea, 
 
 Made in the Master's name, that men in chains 
 Of sin should look to him to set them free. 
 
 * Richly, among those pleas, re-echoes one 
 
 Made when this house to other use was turned. 
 
 Hark ! What a solemn hush came o'er the throng ! 
 Within their hearts what holy fervor burned. 
 
 " Praise ye the Lord ! " the theme the preacher chose. 
 Praise him, by loving man whom he has made! 
 
 With wondrous power upon that theme he spoke. 
 At his own will his hearers' hearts he swayed. 
 
 Laughter and tears alternate filled the hall ; 
 
 With shame and high resolve each bosom swelled. 
 The coldest, sternest hearts were melted there ; 
 
 The giddiest mind to close attention held. 
 
 Never again such eloquence as that 
 The fibres of this oaken frame may thrill; 
 
 Nor such a mingled tide of holy thought 
 And holy feelings every bosom fill. 
 
 But oft hereafter, as in decades past, 
 May words of kindness, words of friendly cheer, 
 
 Words of wise counsel, words of love and truth. 
 Be heard within these walls for many a year ! 
 
 * Reference is here made to an eloquent and touching sermon preached by Father 
 Taylor, the seaman's friend, in the old Town Meeting-house, some forty-five years ago. 
 
personal reminiscences 383 
 
 [Appendix G.] 
 
 CONCERNING THE GENEALOGICAL TABLE OF THE 
 BELLOWS FAMILY. 
 
 The printing of the Genealogical Table, which I thought 
 might possibly accompany this volume of " Narratives," is, 
 to my great regret, unavoidably omitted. It is my hope, 
 however, that it will be seen before long. 
 
 For two reasons was its printing postponed. First, the 
 subscriptions to the book have been too limited (not yet 
 enough to cover the cost of publication) to allow me to 
 incur this additional expense, as this Genealogical Table 
 would add some forty pages to the book. Secondly, although 
 so much devoted and gratuitous labor has been given by 
 Mr. Wheelock to the preparation of this table, the record 
 of several branches of the family is still incomplete, persons 
 applied to for information having failed to respond ; and a 
 full record is so desirable that, in consultation with friends, 
 it has been thought best, before issuing it, to make a further 
 attempt to fill the gaps. To this end, proof-sheets or copies 
 of so much of the record as pertains to each branch of the 
 family will be sent to representatives of that branch, with 
 an earnest request that they exert themselves to complete 
 their part of the family genealogy at the earliest day possible. 
 If our friends could at all realize the tediousness and per- 
 plexity of the work of making out with accuracy such a 
 table, involving even months of labor in making corrections 
 and additions, they would, I am sure, promptly co-operate 
 with our cousin, Mr. Wheelock. When thus filled out, the 
 records should be mailed to Henry G. Wheelock, 66 Wall 
 Street, New York City. 
 
 Each person wishing a copy of the pamphlet containing 
 the completed Genealogical Table will please at once notify 
 Mr. George H. Ellis, publisher, 141 Franklin Street, Boston, 
 Mass. The price per copy will not exceed one dollar. It 
 will be merely the cost of printing and issuing. 
 
 E. R. B. 
 
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