COLUMBIA LIBRARIES OFFSITE AVERY FINE ARTS RESTRICTED AR01414429 A«tabtograpI|y of StjnmaB fainter ti\tlSitxtal\xtmn iEx ICtbrifl SEYMOUR DURST -f ' 'Tort nituu/ ^irTt/ferd^-m, o^ Je M Elizabeth Dunbar ^ I 1701 Thomas Stevens 1677 1777 ® ) Thomas Stevens 1713 1752 I < Amy Smith 1683 1780 Samuel Smith (Capt. ) 1753 b v Desire Smith 1712 1779 {2 > Amy Stevens ^ I 1737 1773 Mary Cooper 1677 1761 taken sick, just as I was ready for Sea. I left him doubting, whether I should Ever see him again. On my return my fears were realised. He died, at the age of nine months, and thirteen days. I continued my business of following the Sea, as usual. On the i6*M of April 1789, We had another son born and called his name Joseph Alexis. He also, appeared to be a well, healthy Child, until four years of age, when he was taken sick, and died, aged four years, and two months. On the 20*.^ of August 1791, we had a daughter born, and Called her name Cynthia. On the 24*.^ of November 1794, we had a son born, and Called his name Alexis. On the 7*^ of April 1797, we had a son born, and called his name Samuel. On the 3'f of October, 1799, we had a son born, and called his name Sidney. On the 26*,^ of February 1802, we had a daughter born, and Called her name Amelia. She appeared in good health, for ten months, and some days, then sickened and died. On the 21^^ of May 1804, we had a son born, and called his name Lucius. He lived to be nine years old, when Samuel (who lived with Charles Sherman, in New Haven), came home, sick with the Dyssentary, which 89 disorder spread almost entirely through my family. Mrs. Painter, Sidney and Lucius were all down at the same time with it, so that we had a complete Hospital, and it ap- peared to me that the disorder was Extremely infectious, so much so, that I would not ask, or Even wish, any of the neighbors, to assist me in watching. I had therefore, a task indeed, as I kept the Sick, all up Chamber, so as not to spread the desease. I had to watch Every night, and get a nap, of about three hours, in the morning, and then, up to the Charge of my Sick Ones. At length they all began to mend. Except Lucius, who continued to grow worse, until death came to his relief. ***** Now perhaps I may with Safety Say, that no one can know, the heart rending pangs that parents must feel, in committing So many of their dear Children to the dust, Except those who have Experienced it. The rest of my Children, (five in number), lived to grow up, to mature age, and are all now living and Scattered round about the Country. Now, when I review the past, and think of the Sorrowful days and nights, which I have spent over the Sick and dying beds of So many of my dear Children who died in infancy and go Childhood, before they had Experienced much of the troubles, sorrows, and temptations, of a wicked and Ensnaring world, and then as I humbly hope, made a safe, and happy retreat, to a happier, and better country, where sin and Sorrow, gain no Admittance. And then, when I think of my other Children who survive, and Embarked on the tempes- tuous Ocean of life, continually liable to be Shipwrecked, by the many Snares, and tempta- tions, which beset them on every Side, besides being liable to many misfortunes, and disap- pointments, and perhaps have to Struggle hard, to obtain food and raiment, and at last, have the debt of nature, which we all owe, to pay, and appear before their Judge, with a long, and fearful account, I say, when I think of all these things, I am almost ready to say, although Ever so grevious at parting, — Happy the babes who made an Early Exit. But I do humbly hope I have committed those who are gone, and those which remain, to the care and keep- ing, of that kind and gracious being who when my Father, and Mother, had forsaken me, took me up, and in the many perils and dangers which have beset my path through life, has been a God at hand, and not afar off, so that when I cried to him, in my troubles, his arm 91 brought Salvation, Even to a good old age. Those of my Children that Survive now live as follows, Viz. Cynthia, in Westfield Mass. Angelina, and Sidney, in New Haven. Alexis, at his native Village in West Haven, and Samuel, in New York, where he has resided for Eighteen years. My Children were all baptized in infancy, by the ReverJ^ Noah Williston, the same person by whom I was baptized myself, he, having settled in West Haven the same year, in which I was born, and he, was Ordained, when I was about five months old. As I have before Stated, I left following the Sea Steady, at about the meridian of life, in order to Enjoy the Com- forts of my family, and fireside. And, from that time forward, I presume, did Enjoy my- self, and take as much comfort, as commonly falls to the lot of man in this life, having Agar's portion, neither poverty, nor riches, but food and raiment convenient, with which, I was in a good measure, and ought always, to be entirely content, while I, and my dear Com- panion, were endeavoring to rear up, and instruct our Children, which were still spared to us, after our poor fashion, until they began to leave us; and scatter out into the wide world, all of them in different directions,ExceptSidney, 92 who staid at home until he was about twenty Six years of age. So, that in a few fleeting moments, as it appeared, we were left entirely alone, and not a child at home, to look upon. In this retired Situation, we continued, living in our peacable and quiet retreat, in the full enjoyment of all the comforts, which ought to be desired, or wished for, in our journey, through this probationary State; until at length, my Companion began to have some fearful forebodings of coming trouble, in consequence of feelings of numbness. At these feelings she felt more alarmed while she recollected that her mother, all her mother's Sisters (six in number) and also her Grandfather, and Grand- mother Sherman, all died with the numb palsy. And it was not long, before her fears were realized, and she was taken suddenly in fits and spasms, which we thought, had some relation to the palsy. For about One day, we did not Expect her life. But, at length She partially recovered, and for some time, was able to attend to her domestic Concerns, they, however being small. In this state she continued some time, until, at length, in getting up one morning, she found she could hardly walk. On getting to the fire, I drew off her Stockings, and soon discovered. 93 by the blue spots on her feet, that the palsy had come in Earnest. I went immediately to brushing, rubbing, &c, and continued this operation daily, for a considerable length of time, but she never could gain, the full use of her feet again, but continued to hobble about House, for about one year, when the fatal moment of her departure had arrived. As She had all her life time, been, of very industrious habits, and must always be doing something, she could not be satisfied, unless she had some work in her hands. But as the palsy, had in some degree, weakened, and impaired her faculties, we found some difficulty, in providing work, which she was able, and competent, to manage, and accom- plish, without assistance. At length on the ig^^ day of November 1830, We being alone in the House, and she sitting by the kitchen fire place, attending to her sewing work, which she had in her hand, — I, happening to come into the room, at that instant, sat down near her, and was looking at her, perhaps two or three minutes to see her manage her work. All at once she laid the work down in her lap, and seemed to sit, as if in a deep study about something. I thought, that something might be the 94 matter, and that she might be faint. I there- fore took hold of her, to assist her on to the bed, and spoke to her, but she made me no reply, nor any motion to help herself. I then took her up in my arms, carried her into the other room, and laid her on the Bed, and she ap- peared to be gone. I immediately set to rub- bing her, and blowing in her face, to make her Catch for breath &c. As it happened at this instant Mrs. Smith, (wife of my neighbor, Chauncey Smith,) came in, and she rallied a few of the neighbors, who soon came in, and a Horse, already Saddled, being at hand, I sent immediately to New Haven for a Doctor, and he was quick here, before she was entirely gone. But there was no help, neither did I expect any, but I thought it would be a com- fort to me, not knowing what might be possible. The pulse ceased to beat soon after the arrival of the Doctor. She was taken at about 12 O.' Clock at noon, and all signs of life dis- appeared, and her Eyes, Closed in death, at about 3 O.' Clock. P. M. She never Spoke, nor so much as moved a single joint or finger, — or opened her Eyes, — or made the least noise, from the time she was taken, until her pulse ceased to beat, and her departing Spirit, took its flight, as I have reason 95 to believe, to some of those many mansions which are prepared for all those who love our Lord Jesus Christ in Sincerity. And Oh ! what a change in three short hours. My care and my comfort, my dear Com- panion and bosom friend, with whom I have So happily walked, through a long journey in life, for the Space of forty seven years, is no more. Her eyes, and lips, are forever Closed in death, and I am left a Solitary wanderer, to continue a short space longer. In about four days after her decease, we committed the mortal remains of my dear Companion, to the Silent grave. I continued at my lonely dwelling, with Amelia P. Rich, my Grand Daughter, for my House Keeper, for about thirteen months, until she became somewhat tired of her confine- ment, I, not knowing what way was best for me. I now, knew not what way, it was best for me to take, whether, to break up house- keeping, and leave my home, (the place where I was born, and where I had spent a long life,) and go abroad to board, must be very disagree- able, — or, — to find a suitable House keeper, to come and stay with me, was also both, difficult and disagreeable, — or, — to seek for another 96 partner, and be able to find one of the right stamp, in all respects, I knew, also, to be Equally difficult, although, perhaps not quite as disagreeable. I therefore resolved, upon the latter of these alternatives. I therefore Con- cluded, that if I could find a partner of Suitable age, & other ways agreeably situated, who would be willing to become my companion for a short time, that I had better form another connection. Accordingly I became acquainted with Mrs. Elizabeth W. Buddington, of Hartford, and some time in the month of December 1831, I went to Hartford in the stage, and in the same month, we were married by the Rev^ Joel Hawes; after which, we proceeded in the stage to Westfield, where we spent about ten days, and then returned to West Haven, by the way of Hartford, where we have lived in the enjoy- ment of health, and Comfort, for nearly five years. 97 A COPY OF THOMAS PAINTER'S LAST LETTER TO HIS CHILDREN WHICH WAS FOUND WITH HIS WILL IN BANK VAULT IN NEW HAVEN, DATED AND WRITTEN IN DECEMBER 1842, ABOUT SIX YEARS BEFORE HIS DECEASE. My Dear Children: It has long been my wish, and intention, to leave a few lines for your perusal, after I am gone, and the hand that penned them is mould'ring in the dust. But I have put off, and put off, this disagreeable business, to this late hour, when between 8i and 82 years of my life, have come and gone, and the grave blossoms are covering my head, and the in- firmities of age are fast creeping upon me, and I begin to know what it means, when it is said, *^the grasshopper shall be a burden/ ' Now, when I take a retrospective view of my long life, and recount the numerous dangers of death, through which I have passed, and the 98 very many, to which I have been Exposed, of falling into bad practices while in the Army, in Prison Ships, Privateering, following the Sea &c., while very young, having no Parents to instruct, or to give me counsel, or advice, (and yet, I hope I have, through the goodness of God, Escaped most of the grosser Sins, and Vices, to which many have fallen an easy prey,) — and when I consider the great good- ness of God to me, in the almost miraculous preservation of my health, (never having a fit of sickness during my whole life,) when I look back on the many dangers, through which I have passed, and the mercies almost innumer- able which I have Enjoyed, while all my youthful acquaintance, are gone to their final account, and yet I am still, a spared monu- ment of the mercies of God. Oh ! how I ought to be astonished, while I attempt to recount the mercies I have received, from my kind and gracious God. Yes, his mercies both temporal and Spiritual, have been without number, — and how much more ought I to be astonished to think, that after all this kindness, and for- bearance Exercised towards me, that I should be unthankful, and unmindful of the God, and giver of all my mercies. And why such a rebellious wretch as I am, should be continued 99 to this time, is known only to him, who knows all things. But, perhaps I have already said too much about myself, as I have heretofore given you a written narrative of my life, and the principal object of this letter being, to give you a few hints, by way of advice, and take my final leave of you. And I trust you will believe me, when I tell you, that this is solemn work with me, standing as I do, on the brink of the grave, and knowing that my departure is at hand, and then looking around, after my dear Surviving Children, who are scattered around in such a World as this;— it is impos- sible, but I must feel great concern, for their temporal and Spiritual welfare. And I am afraid I have been too much concerned for their temporal welfare, and that I have not been. Entirely willing to leave them, in the hands of that kind, and merciful being, who, when both my Father, and my Mother, had forsaken me while very young, took me up, and sustained me to this time. Even to very Old Age. And I fear that I have been too little concerned for your Spiritual interest, in that good part which can not be taken away. But thanks be to God, that I may have a hope, that my poor prayers, and wishes, have been granted, and that I may hope that you have 100 all Entered the Ark of Safety, and that you have all Embraced, the Lord Jesus Christ, in the Arms of your love. And if so press for- ward toward the mark, for the prize of your high Calling, always bearing it in mind that the snares and temptations, which lie in your way, in the short journey of life, are numerous, and that you have the world, the flesh, and that subtle adversary, the Devil, to Contend with, always remembering, that your own strength is weakness. Look therefore to God, through the merits of the Redeemer, for assistance, in all times of need, always de- pending wholly on the merits, and interces- sion, of our dear Redeemer, for acceptance with God, for I do hope and trust that you see, that your own best righteousness, is as filthy rags, and that your best services, needs Cleansing in the blood of Atonement. Lean therefore, wholly, on the Arm of your Almighty Saviour, striving to imitate his lovely example, and to walk in his footsteps. I believe it to be, one of the most difficult duties, that is required of a real Christian, in the present life, — to be, — and to have, — ^just so much to do with this World, as duty requires, and yet, not to be Entangled, & captivated with it, to the neglect of the great, and the one lOI thing needful. Our heavenly father knows, that we stand in need of these worldly Com- forts, but his direction is, seek first, the king- dom of God, and his righteousness, and then adds the promise, that all these things, shall be added. You, now, are all at, or passed, the meridian of life, and some of you begin to carry the marks of age. You have all no doubt, been wishing at least to obtain Agur's portion, and no doubt would have been grati- fied, to have obtained something more. But your heavenly Father, has not seen best, that you should possess much of this World's goods, and what he does, is always best. He has informed us, in his word, of the great danger of riches, and that it is, almost impos- sible, for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven, and those, who live long in the World, will bear sorrowful testimony, (if we may judge,) to the truth of this part of Holy Writ. I have long since, made up my mind, that generally, there is no readier way, to cause a man to deny his Maker, than to give him un- interrupted prosperity, and an abundance of this worlds goods. I do not make the remarks, thinking, — or Expecting, and I hope, not even wishing, that any of you should become rich. 102 yet, I could wish if it was God's will, that you might have food and raiment, so as to be com- fortable, but not fashionable, like too many, who call themselves Christians, at the present day. As I have before observed, I have been preserved, (though left an Orphan soon after leaving my Cradle,) through a long life, and have been blessed, with what I call Agur's portion, and perhaps something more. And if anything should remain, after my Decease, I have made a distribution of the same, which you will receive, together v/ith this letter, and, I must be permitted, not only to hope, but to know, that you will all be perfectly satisfied therewith, for, did I now believe, that it would be otherwa^^s, and that the small savings of a long life, would be the cause of any unkind feelings among you, towards Each other, I should, most certainly, dispose of it in a very different way. And I do also hope, and trust, that whatever you may receive, may be Ex- pended, only, for the necessaries of life, while on your journey to the grave, — or, — if you have anything to spare, devote it to benevo- lent, and pious purposes. While we are living, with some, no doubt, the thoughts of being so soon forgot, after they are covered with the Clods of the Valley, is very disagreeable, but I 103 have no doubt you will feel, a desire, on first reading this letter, to pay a visit to the spot which contains my sleeping dust, and while your thoughts are thus employed. Oh! remem- ber, that after a few more setting suns, your dust will be commingled with mine. As I have just observed, I trust you will all be satisfied with the disposal which I have made, for I can assure you, that I have had no Josephs or Ben- jamins, in my family. I know of no difference in my love, and affection, to any of my Chil- dren, and could I now speak to you from my narrow house, I must tell you the same thing. If I have made any difference, it is because I thought the circumstances required it. And I trust, that you will. Each one, banish the most distant appearance of any uneasy thoughts, which may arise about the pittance, which, perhaps, I may leave you. As you have been kind, and obedient Children, and have not rent your Parents heart, with any outrageous Conduct, I do therefore, hope, and believe, that you will all, lovingly receive, (if any thing remains,) what Providence has thus kindly provided for you, by me. It is the Ardent prayer of your affectionate Father, that you may live together in this world, as brethren, endeavoring to keep the 104 unity of the Spirit, in the bond of peace, never suffering any root of bitterness, to spring up, that may destroy, the happiness of your fra- ternal affection, since you are all professedly, and I do hope, in reality, journeying to a better Country, to the same Eternal Home, and what- ever different subordinate views, you may at anytime Entertain, your principal and ultimate End is, I hope, the New Jerusalem above, where, you all hope to arrive at last. I hope you will not think it out of place, if I should, once more, and, as it were with my dying breath. Enjoin it upon you, to live in peace, harmony, and love, for, if I might be permitted, and it were proper thus to speak, it does appear to me, that if any disturbances should arise among you, (such as I have often witnessed in families,) that it would disturb my very sleeping dust. It only now remains, that I close this letter, by bidding you a long, — yes, — a long and final, farewell ! ! — hoping, that by the mercy of God, through the merits of Christ, we may all, One day, have an infinitely happier meeting, than we have Ever had, in this world of Sin, and Sorrow, Even at Christ's right hand, in Zion above, being Clothed upon, with the 105 Spotless robe of his righteousness, to spend an Eternity, with Saints, and Angels, in singing praises, and Halle- lujahs, to God, and the Lamb. Amen. From your Affectionate Father THOS. PAINTER. N. B. It is my wish, that Each of my Chil- dren, should have a Copy, of the fore- going letter, and also, a Copy of the Narrative of my life, and I do hope, that Each one, will be willing, to make a Copy for themselves. It is my wish, that after my decease, that this letter, be Copied into the book, in which, is the Narrative of my life, and that each of my Children have a Copy of the whole. 106