F232 .G6R7 "J ■0^ ^ ^ 9 I 1 V ^^..^^ /^ ■S-v-.^' / *'^\!, ^ "t. . ^> . ^, V -^.A^ y^M^ x.j" /J H HISTORY . . OF . (jloucester County, Virgfinia, AND ITS FAMILIES. West, Johnston & Co., Richmond, Va. 1893. GLOUCESTER 3fC ONE OF THE FIRST CHAPTERS T The Commonwealth of Virginia. ILLUSXRAXED. BY Sally Nelson Robins the photographs were taken bv Miss Blanche Dimmock, of sherwood. WHERE THE TIDE ROLLS, AND THE BOISTEROUS BAY KNOCKS AT VIRGINIA'S DOOR. When one attempts the early history of a colonial county he is overcome by a feeling of helplessness. A few early records, a legend or two, stand like silent watch- towers, around which he must weave his ow^n suppositions, the hearsays of his childhood, and a warrantable induc- tion from existing facts. This sketch applies to Gloucester and its dear people, who from one border line to the other are my brethren. To them all without exception — to the road-side farmer who hoes his stumpy corn-field; to the jolly fisherman, whose conch-shell trumpet heralds fish along the high- ^N^ay ; to the judge upon his bench and the parson in his jiulpit, and to Gloucester's sons and daughters scattered far and near — I dedicate this sketch. Chesapeake bay, in boisterous friendliness, knocks at jloucester's south-eastern door ; the capricious " Mock lack" hugs its eastern border, sending inland the land- ocked North, the broad-sweeping Ware, and the beauti- ul Severn ; while the York, but a lesser bay, born of the hesapeake, washes it south-westerly, cutting it apart com York county and James City. In the year 1631 the vast territory of Virginia is 'ivided into eight shires; one of these shires is Pamaun- ee. Out of this Pamaunkeeshire Gloucester w^as carved. 4 GLOUCESTER COUNTY, VA., In the year 1652 twelve counties sent thirty-five meL bers to the Hoase of Burgesses. One of these counties was Gloucester. The date of its birth and christening is not known ; probably the defiant old royalist, Sir William Berkeley, called it for the sake of his native Gloucester- shire, in England. Virginia's Gloucester once held a king. One of the dwellings of grim old Powhatan was upon a bend of the York, the lovely Werowocomoco, whose curved shores are gay with riotous wild grape-vines and glossy bamboo. The great stone chimney of this kingly wigwam defied cold and heat for over two hundred years. A short time ago it fell. There was shame in its fall. Virginia should have preserved it. The history of the mightiest nations upon earth hung about it. Still, it was left to crumble ignominiously in a rude corn-field, while the multitude who floated up the York, in call of its solitude, scarce knew it was there. This pile of mangled rock, the dismal vestige of ;. monarch's home, bears vast speculation on its face. In this age of turning ancient relics into gold, there seems to be immense possibility in a ruin, of which every squar^. inch tells a story. Some fragments in Chicago would have bound a msLT- Yelous fin de siecle show, to the uncertain early days wher Powhatan was king, when Sir "Walter Raleigh saw futurt glory in the fragrant fumes of a new-found weed, ant. John Smith swayed a savage mob. A stone's throw from the chimney is a rock. We ai told that to this rock an Indian princess ran to save white man's life. We hope the tale is true, but if it i not, the daily baptism in "Werowocomoco's" tide is wea] to wash the tradition from the stone. Now, stretches of level road-beds bordered with bloom AXD ITS FAMILIES. O ing dogwood, swept by the perfume of wood honeysuckle, and the glint of the creepy rhododendron, hardly recall a phalanx of primeval forest, with the agile Indian casting a silent arrow, darting through. The Chiskoyackes, who, in 1668, paid tribute of one hundred and forty-five wolves' heads, were the last tribe to fold the wigwam in Gloucester. In addition to depredations of Indians, the colonists now began to fear injury from unfriendly water-craft; and in 1667 the British built a fort on the stretch of land vis-a-vis to Yorktown. Thence sprang a beautiful incor- poration, known as "Gloucester towne." It had its Main street striking the county thoroughfare, its Broad street, its Botetourt street, which " held the Red House and the British Fort." Gloucester towne had a finger in the Revolutionary pie, for Dundas' and Tarleton's troops were quartered here, and it fell when Yorktown did. As late as 1861 an old brick house bore solitary witness of its colonial neighbors at Gloucester towne. An elm, wide-spreading and magnificent, was its body-guard. Union soldiers set fire to this old-fashioned mansion, big with bygone grandeur and a noble pedigree, for no reason that I can see, except to destroy a landmark from Vir- ginia's shores. The blazes blasted the proud elm, the friendly "table tree," whose arms held a welcome for incoming ships. An old man, seventy-odd, was telling me the story : " What sacrilege," he added : " This was a twig. In ante-Revolutionary days my grandmother planted it." From this house, built by an early colonist named Thruston, whose widow married a Lewis and then a Tabb, t'v'o curiously-carved mantel-pieces were carried to Belle Farm ; and this old Lewis home still holds them, together 6 GLOUCESTER COUNTY, VA., with one of the rarest collections of china, silver, and glass, portraits and jewels (heirlooms of the Warners, the Lewises, the Corbins and the Taylors), which this country contains. In 1876, when the Philadelphia centennial was about to open, and the fever for relics of the Revolution was high, a part of the wreck of the English frigate Sharon, which brought Cornwallis to Yorktown and was afterwards sunk off Gloucester towne, was blown up with powder. Imbedded in the wreck were found articles of immense interest, and the date 1772, the year in which the vessel was built. The glory of Gloucester towne has departed. It is but a steamboat landing, with a broad sweep of level land broken with grass-grown fortifications, from which, in '61, the first gun was fired in Virginia. They breathe to us a sacred story. They were the bulwarks of our own untried heroes. Their hope perished. The memory of their deeds is as fresh as the turf which gives an air of peace to this grim work of war. The ancient settlement of Gloucester towne, its magnifi- cent harbor (seldom ice-bound), deep water, and fertile back-lands, would seem to insure growth and emolument; but by the perversity of fate newer places distanced it, and it has but the aroma of a new country's old times. Twice the records of Gloucester have been destroyed ; 'the records now at the capitol in Richmond were copied from the originals in the English Public Record Office a few years ago. The earliest land-grant in Gloucester, therein contained, is one to Augustine Warner in 1635 . ■ Previous to this colonists were very cautious, and afrair to branch off in the wilderness. In 1642 Thomas Curti.-. John Jones, Hugh Gwynne and Richard Wyatt took up tracts ; in 1643 James Whiting, John Robins in 164 >. I 1 8 GLOUCESTER COUNTY, VA., In the Renaissance of Pedigree many are eager to find out whence they came ; therefore I insert these chrono- logical details. Enthusiastic colonial dames, armed with pad and pen- cil, may now make a pilgrimage to some modest wooden house whence a colonial ancestor departed to help stir the country's caudle, and find out a lot of family tradi- tion which I have not the space to notice. ■ For the benefit of the Sons and Daughters of the Revolution I will annex the names of those from Glou- cester who fought in the Revolution : Warner Lewis, County Lieutenant; Sir John Peyton, Baronet, Colonel ; Thomas Whiting, Lieutenant-Colonel; Thomas Boswell, Gent., Major. Captains: Gibson Cluverius, John Camp, Richard Mat- thews, George Booth, Jasper Clayton, John Hubard, John Whiting, John Billups, Benjamin Shackelford, John Willis, Robert Matthews, William Buckner, John Dixon, Richard Billups, and William Smith. .. Lieutenants: Samuel Gary, Rjnhjrd H^ll, John Foster, James Baytop, Thomas Buckner, George Green, William Sears, James Bentley, Edward Matthews, John Billups, Dudley Cary, Hugh Hayes, Churchhill Armistead, Philip Tabb, John Foster, and Robert Gayle. Ensigns : Henry Stevens, William Davis, William Hay- wood, Thomas Baytop, John Fox,, James Laughlin, Wil- liam Bentley, Christopher Garland, Peter Bernard, John Hayes, Samuel Eddins, Thomas Tabb, Richard Davie, Josiah Foster, George Plummer, and John Gale. As early as 1676 Gloucester gave a Speaker to th'i House of Burgesses, and the portrait of Augustine War- ner, kindly-visaged and periwigged, hangs at Belle Farm, one of the many homes of his descendants in Gloucestei'. From Gloucester to Sir William Berkeley, in the . ' ' -/ AND ITS FAMILIES. V of his worries with Nathaniel Bacon, came a " kingsman," inviting him to this " rich doniain full of loyal planters." He came, and his heart sank, for a Bacon element tainted his following. Nathaniel Bacon, fearless and headstrong, at the close of his stormy career led his rash rebels across the York to Gloucester. He went to "Warner Hall to spend the night with old Augustine. Death overtook him with his helmet on. Some say bis body lies at the foot of a beech tree, in sound of a busy brook which runs from " Bacon's Spring." This is a stopping-place for thirsty travellers, who drink from a brownish sun-dryed gourd, which hangs near by. The shadow of the beech tree strikes the site of old Pets- worth. Petsworth church was gorgeous with magnificent frescoes, and held a goodly congregation. For years the birds and hoot-owls, the scurrying rabbits, and sometimes a frightened fox, peopled its ruins. At last a rude hand leveled its walls and sold the bricks to build a hotel at Fort Monroe. The history of Gloucester is woven in the registers of its colonial churches. Names faded on the old roll wear a fresher lustre on the parish books of to-day. Where the fathers worshipped the sons still kneel. Bishop Meade tells us of the chequered record of Abingdon and Ware, of their conflict with rollicking shepherds. To-day, mod'^ls of simple architecture, they stand well preserved. ^JflfQ was modernized before the war. In 1867 the flagstones of old Abingdon echoed the crisp foot-tread of the worshipper. The pews were sc^uare, with seats all around, and stiff carpet-covered foot-stools stood beneath, on which prim children sat, and often munched Shrewsbury cakes drawn from their mother's reticule. I have heard that excessive wriggling was sum- marily checked by a tap from a heelless slipper. 10 GLOUCESTER COUNTY, VA,, Outside the churches crumbling tombs catch the flick- ering shadows of the forest trees. But in earliest times the law of primogeniture made the man who dwelt here to-day fancy his son's sons dwelling here a hundred years hence; so when he built his house he fenced off his graveyard. This idea of family security is dead, and the family grave- yard is steadily yielding to the church-yard cemetery. Abingdon and Ware churches are voices from the colony, and by reason of age take precedence (one brick in the older part of Abingdon is stamped 1660 , but other churches of other denominations stand in the different neighborhoods. "Bellamy's," the stronghold of Methodism, is prosper- ous. There one gets a taste of good "old-time" religion, and old-fashioned ladies still sit in the amen corner and tune their sweet voices to the strains of " Old Hundred " and " Coronation." In 1710 Gloucester was the most populous county in Virginia. Thenceforward it strode to the perfection of its civilization, which it attained in the closing years of the eighteenth and the first sixty-one years of the nine- teenth century. Plantations were young principalities manned by living machinery, and supplied almost every article of home consumption. The life of a Gloucester planter possessed a fantastic independence. Ho gave a general supervision to his affairs, but a sense of ownership and mastery added zest to the burden. In the morning he scanned his rich fields on a well-groomed thoroughbred ; towards the middle of the day joined other planters at the nearest cross-roads, discussed crops and politics, sipped a social julep and went home to dinner. Dinners were dinners then. The planter had his own oyeterman, his carpenter and black- smith. He sent his corn to Jamaica and the same-vessel AND ITS FAMILIES. 11 brought back his rum ; he sent his corn to the Madeiras and the returns were butts of costly wine. Whiskey was not so much drunk in the early part of the century ; it was the headman's tip in a morning dram, but the master made his toddy of Jamaica rum. The mistress of an anie-hellum establishment had her hands full. Her husband and children (people had a heap of children then ; puny households of two or three were hard to find) demanded their just attention. She was the sovereign of a dusky court, and had a personal supervision of every portion of the dominion. She set the domestic machinery in motion and saw that it worked easily. She looked after her subjects from their souls to their socks, tending the sick, trying to steer the moral course of the well, praying in simple faith with the dying. The "chamber," with its "curtained bed" and "easy chair," was a favorite refuge. In the evening, w^hen the white people gathered in the drawing-room, neat maids, with bare brown arms and chaste homespun gowns, sat around its blazing hearth and knit the "people's" socks and cracked plantation jokes in the midst of weird ghost stories. These old-time ladies had forcible modes of expression and a lot of thrift and sense. "Sam," said one of them to a negro boy, "I believe that you try to scatter my spoons to the four winds of heaven, and my forks to the uttermost parts of the earth." " Sam ! when I call you come to me ! If you are moulding money, come to me! " Another truly remarked: "Can a mother with a crowd of children ever get enough biscuits or bleach cotton?" The existence of a Gloucester plantation boy was beat- ific. He was born with strong local atta,chment. The trees for him had a genealogy. He roamed at will 12 GLOUCESTER COUNTY, VA., through forest and open land, noting the new eggs in the last year's bird's-nest, listening for the mocking-bird's sweet song, which came year after year from the same blossom-laden apple bough. He knew the fancies of the beasts, rejoiced with them at each new birth, mourned when they died, and saw that they had a decent burial. He early learned to fish and shoot, and when he rode his father's cob to the glorious *' general muster" he began to see the light of his manhood's dawn. His mother's knee was his Sunday-school, while his father's lips were the code of honor and heroism. This life of freedom begot untrammelled opinions, true manliness, and reckless bravery. The immense leverage of abundant means and ample leisure induced the collec- tion of good private libraries and a love for reading. A boy, whether he wanted to or not, went through the student's routine. He began at the "old-field" school- house, with the other boys of his neighborhood, and usually ended at *' William and Mary." The refining influence of slavery, wealth, and educa- tion, left its mark on a community, which the struggles and poverty of twenty-three years have not rubbed out. The Gloucester girls seemed to exclaim : " Let us alone. Why should life all labor be ? " Their maids combed their hair, crimped their frills, and put on their dresses. They had but to soothe the sorrow that fell in their way -and make themselves charming. Father's carriage was their palace-car, which took them from tidewater to the White Sulphur Springs. Father had ample leisure to be their " bon comrade " and courteous beau. Young men were delightful adjuncts, but by no means the perfunctory articles they have gotten to be in 1893. These girls went often to delicious parties — no stately reception or formal german, where many a girl quakes AND ITS FAMILIES. 13 lest she might get left. In those happy-go-easy gather- ings nobody was left, but glided over the floor to the negro fiddlers' jolly rendering of the " Snowbird On the Ashbank" and " Billy in the Low Grounds." And the negroes were a happy lot. Their miseries have lived in song and story seldom outside. They were an army of bright-turbaned women, gentle and kind. Men strong-limbed and willing, drawing generous crops from generous lands. The stately coachman was trusty to take young mis- tress over tedious distances, managing his horses with the cadence of his tones, showing off their speed with a keen lash when a rival was near— generally bowling along comfortably, taking sweet nods between times. The dining-room servant was despotic in his domain — deferential to his superiors, careful, neat, noiseless. There were a score of pickaninnies, with willing black, bare feet, ready to trot from barn to the " gret-house," from the "big gate" to the stable; in winter comfortable in gay "linsey-woolsey;" in summer, with limbs untrammelled as their souls, they sported, in a single yellow cotton shirt, on the river banks or in the orchards, where the fruit hung ripest. The beginning of a day on a great plantation was like the manoeuvres of a drilled squadron. In and out of vast corn-fields, among sleek kine, scraping the "shoe-sole" in earnest polishing, pushing the dry-rubbing brush, croon- ing over the "up-and-down" churn-dasher, everywhere was a task for somebody, and somebody to do it. Things had no shape for saving labor. The well was on one side of the yard, the kitchen on the other, the smoke-house far distant ; the dairy nestled in a shady spot, near running water, and a good step from the cow-pens. It made no difference. Such 'distances gave 14 GLOUCESTER COUNTY, VA., waiting hands employment, and an idea of magnificence to an establishment. No batter-cakes could cool which were trotted in by feet so swift they were like sable flashes. A negro's head is shaped to tote water, and the dis- tance from well to mansion gave her time for meditation. The gay-turbaned milkmaid, sauntering from the " cup- pen " to the dairy with a foaming " piggin " on her head, was a study for an artist. I can but think the negro slave was happy. Hear the drowsy melody the cradler makes, rising and falling with the swing of his blade. The stalwart fellow sings out the measure of his corn ; " One mi mu; Score me two ; Score me three; Score me four; Tally, five." Their meetings, hilarious with such songs of praise as "S'ster Mary died a slioutin," and " Dust, dust and ashes come over in m\' grave," were awfully jolly and devoid of a suspicion of religion. Gloucester knew no stint of hospitality. Royal fox- hunts, jolly "general musters," "fish-fries," parties,- wed- dings and Christmases joined hands the year round. The annual general muster was a glorious pow-wow. The colonel, in a broad white hat, issued his commands with stern dignity ; the militia performed military manoeuvres, and the public sampled county interests, brandy cock- tails, and a splendid dinner. Company generally spent the day or stayed all night. I heard of one friend who came to spend the day and remained forty-five years. When a friend called, she was asked to " take off her %: #4^ \ ^«.>M H ; ^^ Zi , ^f \ '" i 1 wsm ^ l-^^ i£iS^ AND ITS FAMILIES. 15 things." If she declined, in a wink James or John would whisk in cake and bounce, blackberry jam and bread and butter. Limited accommodations were not known. Houses stretched for the occasion. Pallets were not despised, and the office would always hold as many men as could squeeze in the door. Silver and china had been brought out on so many occa- sions that we could scarcely w^onder to see the doors of the quaint cupboards open at will, and the old blue "can- ton " arranged itself after the fashion of a century. Customs lasted. There w^as no flimsy questioning of what to do with your knife and fork w^hen your plate went to be filled. Sons took up their father's w^ays and preserved, them. Nobody was watching to see what other people were going to do. A friend met old Captain B. on the street of a big city : "Why don't you get some good clothes ? " he asked. "Nobody knows me here," the captain said. The friend visited Gloucester. " Same old clothes ! " he remarked jokingly. " Everybody knows me here," said the captain. Family pride was immense ; an heirloom of an ancestor was bequeathed as of priceless value. The demarcation of society w^as severe as to social intercourse. A fisherman preferred to deliver his fish at the gate; yet if he was in trouble he came to the " coun- sellor " for aid and advice. In the marshes, where the water-front was shabby, a village of people clustered, to whom in winter and sum- mer the water's wealth was merchandise. Guinea was a study and is a wonder. Fifty years ago its barefoot populace ran wildly at the sound of carriage- wheels, screaming: "Run, little wheel! big wheel will 16 GLOUCESTER COUNTY, VA., catch ye." Now it is a beautiful garden spot, tilled by- good farmers. The negroes were grotesque aristocrats. I stood on Cappahoosic pier. The first morning sunlight reddened the broad river. There was a rustle in the waiting crowd. I turned and saw an ancient negro. He wore an old-time spike-tail coat (the waist line, marked by brass buttons, touched his shoulders), a buff waistcoat, and sadly curtailed trousers. The negro, who was about to trundle freight on board, inquired : " Hi! name o' Gord, man ! Whar you cum fum ? " "Out o' my sight ! You low hound ! " old Jack replied with scorn. " Po' folks' niggers aint got no breedin'. I cum fum de quality. Mr. Warner Taliaferro is my mas- ter." Later I drove in ear-shot of the wild singing of a negro revival. A little way from the church stood a negro woman with a generous girth. She was hob-nobbing with a friend who seemed to have forgotten her. " You don't know me ? "' she asked. " I am the reverend Miss Matilda Carter, daughter of John W. C. Catlett's head-man." There has never been a moneyed aristocracy in Glouces- ter. The exception before the war was to find a poor gentleman. But if one was poor, it was but an .incon- venience to himself. Since the war magnificent estates have passed to the stranger. If the stranger was con- genial, the right-hand of fellowship was extended ; if not, he got not one grain of consideration for his money alone. The war came ! Vigorous men and beardless boys took up arms. Gloucester town, once more fortified, fell with its sister Yorktown. Then a pitiable era dawned. At night the women and children slept, with planta ions swarming with exuberant life. In the morning the plan- tations were like peopled cities with their people dead. AND ITS FAMILIES. 17 Silent canoes had borne the negroes off to Yorktown in search of freedom. Federal troops received them, and those who did not go North formed settlements just out- side the Yankee lines. Then came a condition the world had not known. A people who had an army to serve them had to labor with- out a day's notice. They took up the burden bravely, and became artisans without apprenticeship. A reign of terror began. The stalwart men and the big boys were gone ; the old men and the women, and the little children were defenceless, save for a courage that defied brutality. A system of savage marauding ensued. The negroes were the guides for the Federal soldiers, who stole off without license and plundered along the water- courses. A shrill, uncanny whistle would rouse the slum- bering watch-dog, and bolts and bars yielded to a swarm of raiders, who searched every cuddy and peeped into every demijohn to find a rebel. In 1865 when our men came home, home was desolate. They had no time to mope. They hitched their war- horses to the plow, and in their tattered old gray jackets they began again. They saw their sons grow up untu- tored, save in the rudiments learnt at their mother's knee, and the belief that the cause which had crushed them was the right cause. The pride which the sons of the old land-owners took in being scions of Cavaliers and fathers of the Union is changed into this glory, " My father was a Confederate soldier." Gloucester is the cradle of many a distinguished family ; old mansions still exist. The plantations of the Upper York have been cut up into small farms and display a creditable amount of thrift and energy. Eosewell, the Pages' old time-worn castle, preserves a defiant dignity. For over a hundred years it 18 GLOUCESTER COUNTY, VA., belonged to the Pages, and. was for a long time the most conspicuous mansion in Virginia. For nearly twenty years strangers held it, and it w^as shorn of much of its glory. In 1855 Josiah Deans bought it, and his clever wife and cultured daughters preserved every tradition of the place, and pointed with pride to the grand mahogany stairway, where eight people could ascend abreast ; to the lofty side-walls, where a wainscoting of polished mahogany once shone ; to the spot where, perhaps, Thomas Jefferson wrinkled his broad brow, and rumpled his hair, as he wrestled with the *' Declaration of Independence." Rose well claims he drafted it there on his way to Philadelphia. A son of the same race still holds Shelley, aiid keeps up the hospitality which the name recalls. The Burwells sprang from Carter's Creek, where tombs crumbling dismally bear an ancient date and crest. Timberneck, gazing serenely upon the broad York, and overlooking Werowocomoco, catches the dying sunlight on the windows of old Yorktown and gathers the fifth generation in its ample fold. On the Gloucestertown road stands " Gloucester place," the former residence of President John Tyler. The Lewises sprang from Augustine Warner on the maternal side, and, besides Warner Hall, owned. Severn Hall, Belle Farm, and Lewisviile, on the Severn's shores. Lansdowne, the Thruston homestead, still in the family, also lies upon the Severn, and Eagle Point, the spacious home of John R. Bryan. The Bryans have all gone away. but wherever they be, they have a tender word for their birthplace — Gloucester. In an island cemetery, washed on all sides by the Severn, the old people sleep, and the sable pines chant a daily requiem to the sea and the sky. Indeed, there would be no tossings in their slumber 4 tm 'm AND ITS FAMILIES. 19 could they see the nursery brood, which romped in the hickory grove, in maturity, obeying wise parental in- junctions, still eager to maintain a remarkable family prestige — not in arrogance or vainglory, but by lifting and caring for humanity. On Ware river are Sherwood, the beautiful home of the Seldens, and Level Green, the Robins' seat, long since gone from them, but which still gloats over the fact that when Henry Clay canvassed Gloucester, during his Whig candidacy, he landed on her shore, and Ancient White Hall, always owned by the family of Byrd Then there are The Cottage, one of the most ancient houses in our pountry (built by the early Throckmor tons), and " Marl Field," in the upper end of the county, built by the Buckners in colonial days, but for many years owned by the Catesby Joneses. Old Warner Hall has had many masters. . But after the stately reign of the Warners and Lewises, no owner has left upon the public mind the same charming picture of elegant hospitality as did the late Colin Clarke, whose sons and daughters have been people of prominence in all parts of the country. Wareham was an ancient homestead, built by a Cooke. Children's children of this first Cooke of Wareham to this day preserve the dignity of their progenitor. In Rich- mond Mrs. G. W. Bagby, Mrs. Judge Wellford, Mrs. John Cringan and Mrs. Bernard Peyton sprang from him, and in Baltimore, Norfolk, and Washington, he has given a good strain of representative people. When Nathaniel Bacon began to get a dangerous head- way. Sir William Berkeley went to Wareham and made the old chamber his covert. Should the rebels rout him here, above were cozy, almost hidden cuddies, to wbich he might retire. "20 GLOUCESTER COUNTY, VA., Inland there is White Marsh, the Roots family place, going from them to their collaterals the Prossers. Matilda Prosser married John Tabb, and their united wealth made of it one of the show-places of the county. Clifford was the Kempe homestead, Goshen the Per- rin's, Glen Roy the Smiths. At the Shelter, John Tyler Seawell wound a magic spell around a host of friends. A cross of Tyler and Seawell brains gave to Virginia two brilliant lawyers, and to the world the authoress, Molly Elliott Seawell. There was until 1877 a modest home in Gloucester, which was a Mecca for high and low. It was the Rec- tory ; for forty-five years occupied by Rev. Charles Mann. North river is the region of elegant modern residences. Some ancient houses deck its banks. The name " Belleville " recalls naught but happy remin- iscences, and Toddsbury, though passed to strangers, still holds in its fold a God's acre, peopled with Todds and Tabbs. Belleville was built by the Booths. By marriage it w^ent to the late "Warner Taliaferro, whose venerable widow still lives there Burgh Westra and Dunham Massie, owned by Dr. Philip and Gen. W^m. B. Taliaferro ; The Exchange and New- stead, where tte Dabneys and Tabbs live; and Waverly — Gerard Hopkins' handsome mansion — deserve mention for their picturesque beauty. - Gloucester has a future as well as a past. Its magnifi- cent waters will be its distant advertisement. The same shore and breeze and tasteful crab and succulent oyster that beckon thousands to Old Point are hers. Increasing numbers, who will find no ease in the crowded, fashion- able halls of the Hygeia, will yet take refuge in the hotels upon her shores. Its kindly soil will in future m^ / ^>\ Ki^^^y, MB 1 «> .-^ AND ITS FAMILIES. 21 be turned to market trucks, and naanufactories, already established, will send its canned fruits to the markets of the world. Out of its sorrow^s it will yet arise, purified and strengthened, to make coming years, if less pictur- esque than former days, useful and full of plenty. Confederate soldiers, with their dauntless courage, will be the ancestors of the coming race. When the roll was called in 1861, who cried out '• Here " ! Bryans and Clarkes, Yeatmans and Deans, Leighs and Martins, Bridges and Baytops, Stubbs" and Eastwoods, Rowes and Browns, Jones' and Catletts, Stub- blefields and Buttons, GibW"and Cluverius', Thrustons and Carys, Seawells and Shackelfords Dabneys and Smiths, Seldens and Davises, Sinclairs and Sterlings, -Manns and Taliaferros, and "Robinses and Tabbs and "^Villiams and Taylors ! There were many, many more, too numerous to mention, whom their county knows and .-rod knows, whose reward w'as glorious defeat. Time will not dull their record, but will boldly bring ut the reason for their deeds, and the very throes we offered for disaster will beget throes of pride. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 006 092 185 4