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Notes
Notes for Josiah Baldwin, 21 Mar 1676/77 - 25 Jul 1725
Web site states:
Sources for Josiah and Mary were received from Tom Smith who indicated that most of his information came from "The Baldwin Genealogy from 1500-1881" by Charles Candee Baldwin, MA. 1881
Notes for Yelverton Perry, 1748 - 30 Jun 1821
Web site states:
"Lower White Hills Cemetery is located in Huntington at the north end, nearly, of the Lower White Hills. It was called, for many years, the Patterson Burying-Place because a family of that name resided close by it. The land was given by Agur Judson, and his remains were the first buried in it. He and Daniel Shelton, a near neighbor, agreed to, and did each 'stick a stake on land that should be given for a burying place by the one who should die first.' Mr. Judson died July 16, 1791, Mr. Shelton October 15, 1816, and upon the death of the former, the ground was prepared and his remains were the first deposited in it.
Mr. Macena Hubbell, still living, has been sexton of this yeard about forty yers, and hence has served at about half the interments which have been made in the place. There are in it 161 stones with inscriptions on them, and a number of other graves, and some without head stones."
Source: Orcutt, Rev. Samuel. "A History of the Old Town of Stratford and the City of Bridgeport Connecticut, Part II." (Fairfield County Historical Society: 1886), pp. 991-995."
Gravestone inscription:
Yelverton Perry Died June 30, 1821, AE. 83.
Notes for Mary Downing, 15 Jul 1615 - 16 Jun 1647
From web site:
per WR: half-sister of Sir Geo Downing of 'Downing Street', London
M. P. Kuhns, "The 'Mary and John': a story of the founding of Dorchester,
Massachusetts, 1630" has her mother as Lucy Winthrop
email from Masha (Walters?) of 24 Aug 1997:
per 'piece of paper in my Dad's Bible' she was "Daughter of Hon. Samuel Downing and sister of Sir Geroge Downing"
Notes for Thomas S. Osborn, about 1798 - 13 Dec 1890
Website states:
Was a farmer in 1850 to at least 1860. Lived in Clayton, NY in 1850 to at least 1860. Real estate valued at $650 in 1850, $2678 in 1860. Personal estate valued at $400 in 1860. Death listing has "Ann Frame Dep" in mother category.
Notes for Aaron Wright Patchin, 15 Aug 1822 - 11 Jun 1897
Web site states:
Aaron Wright Patchin, the fourth of eight children, sons and daughters of John and Elizabeth (Wright) Patchin, was born in the town of Hague, Warren county, New York State, on the 15th day of August, 1822. He was brought up to the lumber business in the vicinity of Lake George, N.Y. (his father's former residence), near the foot hills of the famous Adirondacks, and here his early life was spent, when in 1847, he followed his father and came to the "Upper" Susquehanna. He, with other brothers, engaged extensively in the lumber business, a part of the time under the firm name and style of John Patchin & Sons. Upon the death of the father, Aaron, who seems to have been his father's chief assistant and advisor during life, acquired most of his father's real estate, having fully compensated the other heirs for their interest, and by him the vast business was successfully continued. He also was one of the executors of his father's will, his co-executor being Jackson Patchin. The extend of the lands acquired by our subject, upon his father's death, number some thousands of acres, but in enlarging his lumbering interest he has purchased much other lands, and now owns several thousands of acres scattered about in various localities, and much greater in amount than that originally given him. He, too, became the owner of the mercantile business, at Patchinville. He is the owner of the extensive saw mill at that place. During the month of April, 1887, Mr. Patchin established an extensive works at Camden, N. J. for the manufacture of spars, the material therefore being cut from his lands in this locality. At the same place he also has a lumber saw mill. Aaron W. Patchin has not been in any sense a public man; he had neither the disposition or the time to indulge in the worry of political life, although frequently pressed to become the candidate of his party--the Republican; he sought no office nor station except that to which he was clearly entitled--that of a leading businessman in the county. Upon this record, is he content to live seeking no other position but enjoying fully in his rural home, surrounded by family and friends the fruits of years of honest toil.
Notes for Freegift Patchin, 20 Feb 1758 - 30 Aug 1831
Web site quotes History of Schoharie County by William E. Roscoe, Chapter XVI "History of the Town of Blenheim" as follows:
No actual engagements occurred in this town during the war, but several of the settlers were made prisoners, and forced to endure untold hardships. We will give space to General Freegift Patchin's narrative of his captive life, as published by him over sixty years ago. We will here state that his experience was that of nearly all others, but few, too few, of less torture and endurance, and who were constitutionally able to survive their hardships. In 1798, General Patchin settled where Joseph Fink now resides, and built a mill. He appointed a General of the Militia, and represented the County in the Assembly in 1804, 1805, 1820, 1821 and 1822, being in six sessions, and was elected supervisor several terms. He was a very intelligent man considering his limited opportunities, and died August 30, 1831, at the age of seventy-three years, not having entirely recovered from the shock his constitution received while a captive. His children were: Mrs. George Martin, Mrs. Samuel Burns, afterwards Mrs. Nicholas Richtmyer, Lewis, Mrs. Frederick Hager, Charles, and Mrs. Joseph Johnson. Mrs. Martin is the only one living, being ninety years of age.
The Captivity and Sufferings of General Freegift Patchin--In the year 1780, myself as well as the whole population about the region of old Schoharie, were held in readiness by Colonel Peter Vroman as minute-men, to be ready at a moment's warning, as the Tories and Indians were a watchful and cruel enemy. Around the region of the head of the Delaware it was suspected there were persons who favored the cause of the British; a small company of men therefore were sent out as spies upon them, and also if possible to make a quantity of maple sugar, as an abundance of maple grew there. Of this little company Captain Alexander Harper had the command. Fourteen persons were all that were sent out, among whom were myself, Isaac Patchin, my brother, Ezra Thorp, Lieutenant Henry Thorp, and Major Henry. It was early in the month of April - the second day of the month - when we came to the place of rendezvous, a distance from the forts of Schoharie of about thirty miles. A heavy snow-storm came on, during which about three feet of snow fell, in addition to that which was on the ground before. We were not in the least apprehensive of danger as the nearest fort of the enemy was at Niagara; knowing also that Sullivan the year before had scoured the Chemung and Genesee countries, killed or driven the Indians to Canada; also as it was winter, and the snow very deep, we supposed were circumstances of sufficient magnitude to prevent marauding parties effectually from approaching from that quarter at that particular time. We had tapped, as the sugar making phrase is, a great number of trees, finding the proper utensils at hand, as they had been before occupied in the same way by the inhabitants who had fled to other places for safety. A few hundred pounds of maple sugar would have been a great acquisition, as the inmates of the forts were in want of all things, having been compelled to flee from their homes to Schoharie and other places of safety. We had proceeded in our enterprise as merrily as the fatiguing nature of the business would permit, a few days, when on the 7th of April 1780, at about two o'clock in the afternoon, we were suddenly beset and surrounded by forty-three Indians and seven Tories. The names of the Tories I forbear to mention, except two or three, of whom the reader will hear in the course of the narrative, the rest I have thought proper not to name, as their descendants are not chargeable with the misguided acts of their father, and it is not my wish at this time of day to cast reflections and grieve the innocent. So silent had been the approach of the enemy that three of our number lay weltering in their blood before I or any of the rest knew they were among us, as we were scattered here and there busy with our work. I was not far from our captain when I saw the Indians first, who were accosted by Brant, their leader, as follows: - "Harper, I am sorry to find you here." "Why," said Harper, "Captain Brant, are you sorry?" "Because," he replied, "I must kill you, though we were schoolmates in youth." Then he lifted and flourished his tomahawk over his head ready to execute the deed, but suddenly, as if paralyzed by a stroke of magic, stopped this act of murder, as if some new and important thought had crossed his mind - when he gazed at Harper with an eye as keen and deadly as a serpent, saying, "Are there any troops at the forts at Schoharie?" Harper perceived in a moment, that the answer to this question would either save their lives or procure their instant death; for if ye should say no, which would have been the truth, the Indians would have killed them all and then proceeded to old Schoharie, massacreing as they went, and cut off the whole inhabitants before help could have been had from any quarter, and the enemy, as a wolf, when the morning appears, flees with the shades of night. Accordingly, he answered, "There are three hundred Continental troops now at the forts, who arrived there about three days since.: But the whole of this statement was untrue; yet who will condemn the captain, and say the act would need much repentance ere it should have obtained forgiveness. On hearing this, the countenance of Brant fell, when he waved with his hand a signal to the chief, stopped the massacre, and called a council of war; all of which, from the time Brant had brandished his hatchet over the head of Harper, had been but the work of a moment.
The eleven survivors were seized, pinioned, and turned all together in a hog-pen, where they were kept till the morning. A guard of Tories, with one Beacraft by name at their head, was set over them in the pen - a bloody villain, as will appear in the course of this account.
All night Brant and his warriors, with the Tories, were in fierce consultation whether the prisoners should be put to death, or taken alive to Niagara. The chiefs appeared swayed by Brant,whose influence prevailed over the whold opposition of the murderous crew; there was a reason for this, as will appear by-and-by. While this question was pending, we could see plainly their every act through the chinks of the pen, as a monstrous fire was in their midst, and hear every word, though none of us understood their language but our captain, whose countenance we could perceive, by the light of the fire, from time to time changing with the alternate passions of hope and fear, while the sweat ran down his face from the mere labor of his mind, although it was a cold night. And added to this, the sentry, Beacraft, who was set as a guard, would every now and then cry out to us, "You will all be in hell before morning." But there we were, tied neck and heels, or we would have beat the pen about his head. Our captain whispered to us that his word was doubted by the Indians and Tories, who were for killing us, and proceeding without delay to Schoharie. At length the morning came, when Brant and his associate chiefs, five in number, ordered that Harper be bought befgore them. Here the question was renewed by Brant, who said, "We are suspicious that you have lied to us;" at the same time he sternly looked Harper in the face, to see if a muscle moved with fear or prevarication. To which our captain answered with a smile, expressive of confidence and scorn, and at the same time descriptive of the most sincere and unvarying honesty, that every word which he had spoken, respecting the arrival of troops at Schoharie, was wholly true. His answer was believed, at which moment not only their own lives were saved, but also those of hunmdreds of men, with helpless women and children, who have not known to this day, except the few to whom the story has been told, that so great a Providence stepped in between them and servitude, torture and death.
It was extremely mortifying to Brant to be compelled to relinquish, at the very moment when he was ready to grasp the utmost of his wish, in the glory and riches he would have acquired in the completion of his enterprise. He had fed the hopes of his associate chiefs, warriors and Tories with the same prospects; having calculated, from information long before received, that Schoharie was in a defenseless state, and dreaded no evil, which rendered it extremely difficult to restrain them from killing the prisoners out of mere fury at the disappointment. A few moments of consultation ensued, when the rest were ordered out of the pen. Brant now disclosed the whole plan of the expedition in English, expressing his regret at its failure, stating that he and the other chiefs had, with difficulty, saved them from being scalped, and that he did not wish to kill them in cold blood now, they had been together a day and a night, and if they chose to go with him to Niagara as captives of war, they might, but if they failed on the way through fatigue or want of food, they must not expect to live, as their scalps were as good as their bodies.
They had no provisions with them, neithere had they eat anything as yet while we had been their prisoners, except what they had found in our sap-bush, which they had at first devoured with the rapacity of cannibals. We now took up our line of march, with our arms strongly pinioned, our shoulders sorely pressed with enormous packs, our hearts bleeding at the dreadful journey before us, and the servitude we were exposed to undergo among the Indians, or if bought to the British, imprisoned by land and sea, was our certain fate, at least till the end of the war, if we even survived the journey.
The snow was then more than three feet deep, and being soft rendered it impossible for us prisoners to travel, as we had no snow-shoes, but the Indians had; a part, therefore, of them went before us and a part behind, all in Indian file, so by keeping their tracks we were enabled to go on, but if we happened to fall down, the Indians would cry out, "Waugh Bostona." We had traveled about ten or twelve miles,when we came to a grist-mill, situated on the Delaware, the owner of which welcomed this band of infernals, and gave them such refreshments as were in his power, but to us, poor prisoners, he gave nothing, while we were made to sit apart on a log beside the road. I shall never forget the cruelty of three or four daughters of this man, whose name I forbear to mention out of pity to his descendants. These girls insisted that they had better kill us there, for if by any means we should ever get back, their own lives would be taken by the Whigs; their father also observed to Brant that he had better had taken more scalps and less prisoners. When we were ready to proceed again, the miller gave Brant about three bushels of shelled corn, which was divided into eleven different parts and put upon our backs, already too heavily burdened. This corn was all the whole body of Indians and ourselves had to subsist upon from there to Niagara, except that which accidentally fell in our way, a distance of more than three hundred miles, entirely a wilderness. From this mill we traveled directly down the river; we had not, however, gone many miles, when we met a man who was a Tory, well-known to Brant, by name Samuel Clockstone, who seeing us, the prisoners, was surprised, as he knew us; when Brant related to him his adventure, and how he had been defeated by the account Captain Harper had given of the troops lately arrived at Schoharie. "Troops," said Clockstone, "there are no troops at that place, you may rely upon it, Captain Brant, I have heard of none." In a moment the snake eyes of Brant flashed murder and running to Harper, he said, in a voice of unrestrained fury, his hatchet vibrating about his head like the tongue of a viper, "How come you to lie to me so?" When Harper, turning to the Tory, said, "You know, Mr. Clockstone, I have been there but four days since; you know since our party was stationed at the head of the river, at the sap-bush, that I have been once to the forts alone, and there were troops, as I have stated, and if Captain Brant disbelieves it, he does it at his peril." That Harper had been there happened to be true, which the Tory happened to know, when he replied, "Yes, I know it." All the while Brand had glared intensely on the countenance of Harper, if possible to discover some misgivings there, but all was firm and fair; when he again believed him, and resumed his march.
There was a very aged man by the name of Brown, who had not gone off with the rest of the families who had fled the country. This miserable old man, with two grandsons, mere lads, were taken by Brant's party, and compelled to go prisoners with us. The day after our meeting with the Tory, as above described, this old man, who was entirely bald from age, became to weary to keep up with the rest, and requested that he might be permitted to return and alleged as a reason, that he was too old to take part in the war, and therefore, could do the King's cause no harm. At this request, instead of answering him, a halt was made, and the old man's pack taken from him, when he spoke in a low voice to his grandsons, saying that he should see them no more, for they were going to kill him; this he knew, being acquainted with the manners of the Indians. He was now taken to the rear of the party, and left in the care of an Indian, whose face was painted entirely black, as a token of his office, which was to kill and scalp any of the prisoners who might give out on the way. In a short time the Indian came on again, with the bald scalp of the old man dangling at the end of his gun, hitched in between the ramrod and muzzle, thie he often flapped in the boys'faces on the journey. The place at which this was done was just on the point of a mountain, not far from opposite where Judge Foot used to live, on the Delaware, below Delhi. There he was left and doubtless devoured by wild animals. Human bones were afterwards found on that part of the mountain.
We pursued our way down the Delaware till we came to the Cook House, suffering very much, night and day, from the tightness of the cords with which our arms were bound. From this place we crossed through the wilderness, over hills and mountains, the mostdifficult to be conceived of, till we came to a place called Ochquago, on the Susquehanna river, which had been an Indian settlement before the war. Here they constructed several rafts out of old logs, which they fastened together with withes and poles passing crosswise, on which, after untying us, we were placed, themselves managing to steer. These soon floated us down as far as the mouth of the Chemung river, where we disembarked and were again tied, taking up our line of march for the Genesee country. The Indians, we found, were more capable of sustaining fatigue than we were and easily out-traveled us, which would have led to the loss of our lived had not a singular Providence interfered to save us! This was the indisposition of Brant, who every other day for a considerable time fell sick, so that the party were compelled to wait for him, this gave an opportunity for us to rest ourselves. Brant's sickness was an attack of the fever and ague, which he checked by the use of a preparation from the rattlesnake. The rattlesnake he caught on the side of a hill facing to the south, on which the sun shone, and had melted away the snow from the mouth of the den of those serpents, where it appears one had crawled out, being invited by the warmth.
The reader will also observe that about a fortnight had now elapsed from the time of our captivity, so that the season was farther advanced, and added to this, the snow is sooner melted on the Chemung, in Pennsylvania, being farther south by about three degrees than the head of the Delaware, yet in places even there, there was snow on the ground, and in the woods it was still deep. Of this snake he make a soup, which operated as a cure to the attack of the ague. The reader will remember the three bushels of corn given at the mill; this they fairly and equally divided among us all, which amounted to two handsful a day, and that none should have more or less than another while it lasted, the corn was counted as we received them; in this respect Brant was just and kind. This corn we were allowed to boil in their kettles when the Indians had finished theirs; we generally contrived to pound it before we boiled it, as we had found a mortar at a deserted wigwam left by the Indians the year before, who had been driven away by General Sullivan. While in the neighborhood of what is now called Tioga Point, we but narrowly escaped every man of us being butchered on the spot; a miracle, as it were, saved us. The cause was a follows: At this place, when Brant was on his way down the Chemung on this same expedition, but a fews days before, he had detached eleven Indians from his company to pass through the woods from Tioga Point to a place called Minisink. It was known to Brant that at this place were a few families, where it was supposed several prisoners might be made or scalps taken, which at Niagara would fetch them eight dollars a piece. This was the great stimulus by which the Indians in the Revolution were incited by Butler, the British agent, to perpetrate so many horrid murders upon women, children, and helpless old age in this region of country.
This party made their way to the Minisink, where, lying concealed in the woods, they managed to get into their possession, one after another, five lusty men, and had brought them as far as to the east side of the Susquehanna opposite Tioga Point. Here they encamped for the night, intending in the morning to construct a raft in order to float themselves over the river, as they had done on their way towards the Minisink a few days before, and so pursue their way up the Chemung which course was the great thoroughfare of the Indians from the Susquehanna country to that of the Genesee. Meanwhile the eleven Indians lay fast asleep being greatly fatigued and apprehending no danger, as the prisoners were securely bound and sleeping soundly, as the Indians supposed, before they laid themselves down; but as the soul of one man, the prisoners were ever watching some opportunity to escape. But this was not possible even if they could have made their escape, unless they should first have effected the death of the whole of the party of Indians. This object therefore was their constant aim. This night, by some means unknown, one of the prisoners got loose, doubtless either by knawing off his cord or by chafing it in two as he lay upon it, or during the day had managed to hitch it as often as he could against the snags of the trees till it had become fretted and weak in some place, so that at last he got it in two. When this was effected, he silently cut the cords of his fellows, when each man took a hatchet, and in a moment nine of them received their blades to their handles in their brains; but the sound of the blows in cutting through the bones of their heads awakened the other two, who sprung upon their feet as quick as thought, when one of them, as he fled, received the blade of a hatchet between his shoulders, which, however, did not kill him nor prevent his escape, yet he was terribly wounded.
These men who had so heroically made their escape, returned, as was supposed, to their homes to relate to their families and posterity the perils of that dreadful night. After they had gone, the two Indians returned to the spot where lay their ruthless but unfortunate companions, fast-locked, not only in the sleep of the night, but that of death, never more to torment the ear of civilized life with the death yell of their sepulchral throats.
They took from the feet of their slaughtered friends their mocassins, nine pair in number, and then constructed a raft on which they crossed the river, and had proceeded little way up the Chemung where they had built a hut, and the well Indian was endeavoring to cure his wounded companion.
When the whooping of the party of Indians to whom we were prisoners struck their ear, he gave the death yell, which hung on the dull air as the scream of a demon reverberating in doleful echoes up and down the stream; at which the whole body made a halt and stood in mute astonishment, not knowing what this could mean; when directly the two Indians made their appearance, exhibiting the nine pair of mocassins, and relating in the Indian tongue, which Harper understood, the death of their companions. In a moment as if transformed to devils, they threw themselves into a great circle around us, exhibiting the most horrid gestures, gnashing their teeth like a gang of wolves ready to devour, brandishing their tomahawks over us, as so many arrows of death. But here let it be spoken, to the praise of Divine Providence, at the moment when we had given ourselves up as lost, the very Indian, who was a chief, and had been the only one of the eleven who had escaped unhurt, threw himself into the midst of the ring, and with a shake of his hand gave the signal of silence, when he plead our cause by simply saying, "These are not the men who killed our friends, and to take the life of the innocent in cold blood, cannot be right." As it happened, this Indian knew us all, for he had lived about Schoharie before the war, and was known as an inoffensive and kind-hearted native, but when the war came on, had seen fit to join the British Indians; his words had the desired effect, arrested the mind of Brant, and soothed to composure the terrific storm that a moment before had threatened to destroy us.
Again we resumed our course, bearing with considerable more patience and fortitude the anguish of our sufferings, than it is likely we should have done had our lives not been preserved from a greater calamity just described. We soon came to Newtown, where we were nearly at the point of starvation, Indians and all, as we had nothing to eat except a handful or two of corn a day; and what the end would have been is not hard to forsee, had not the amazing number of wolf tracks remaining, directed us to the carcass of a dead horse. The poor brute had been left to take care of itself the summer before by Sullivan, in his march to the Indian country, being unfit for further service as a pack-horse. Here, on the commons of nature, which during the summer and fall, it is likely, produced an abundance of pasturage, but when winter came on and rendered it impossible for the poor worn-out animal to take care of itself, death came to its relief. That it had lived to the winter had become severe, was evident from its not being in the least degree putrescent, but was completely frozen, it having been buried in the snow during the winter.
The wolves had torn and gnawed the upper side quite away, but not being able to turn the carcass over it was sound and entire on the under side. This we seized upon, rejoicing as at the finding of a hidden treasure! It was instantly cut to pieces, bones, head and hoofs, and equally divided among the whole. Fires were built, at which we roasted and eat, without salt, each his own share, with the highest degree of satisfaction.
Near this place we found the Painted Post, which is now known over the whole continent, to those conversant with the early history of our country; the origin of which was as follows: Whether it was in the Revolution or in the Dunmore battles with the Indians, which commenced in Virginia, or in the French war, I do not know, an Indian chief on this spot had been victorious in battle, killed and taken prisoners to the number of sixty. This event he celebrated by causing a tree to be taken from the forest and hewed four square, painted red, and the number he killed, which was twenty-eight, represented across the post in black paint, without any heads, but those he took prisoners, which were thirty, were represented with heads on, in black paint, as the others. This post he erected and thus handed down to posterity an account that here a battle was fought, but by whom, and who the sufferers were is covered in darkness, except that it was between the whites and Indians.
The post will probably continue as long as the country shall remain inhabited, as the citizens heretofore have uniformly replaced it with a new one exactly like the original, whenever it has become decayed. Nothing more of note happened to us till we came to the Genesee river, except a continued state of suffering. We passed along between the Chemung and the head of the lakes Cayuga and Seneca, leaving the route of Sullivan, and went over the mountains farther north. These mountains. as they were very steep and high, covered with brush, and our bodies being weak and emaciated, were almost insurmountable, but at length we reached the top of the last and highest, which overlooks immeasurable wilds, the ancient abode of men and nations unknown, whose history is written only in the dust. Here we halted to rest, when the Tory Beacraft took it in his head to boast of what we had done in the way of murder since the war began. He said that he and others had killed some of the inhabitants of Schoharie, and that among them was the family of one Vroman. These he said they soon dispatched, except a boy of about fourteen years of age, who fled across the flat toward the Schoharie river. "I took after the lad," said the Tory, "and although he ran like a spirit, I soon overtook him, and putting my hand under his chin laid him back on my thigh, though he struggled hard, cut his throat, scalped him, and hung the body across the fence." This made my blood run cold; vengeance boiled through every vein, but we dare not say a word to provoke our enemies, as it would be useless. This man, however, got his due, in a measure, after the war was over, which will be related at the end of this account.
Another of them, by the name of Barney Cane, boasted that he had killed one, Major Hopkins, on Dimon Island, in Lake George. "A party of pleasure," as he stated, "had gone to this Island on a sailing excursion, and having spent more time than they were aware of before they were ready to return, concluded to encamp and remain all night, as it would be impossible for them to return to the fort. From the shore where we lay hid, it was east to watch their motions; and perceiving their defenseless situation, as soon as it was dark, we set off for the Island, where we found them asleep by their fire, and discharging our guns among them, several were killed, among them was one woman who had a suckling child, which was not hurt. This we put to the breast of its dead mother, and so we left it.
But Major Hopkins was only wounded, his thigh-bone being broken; he started from his sleep to a stooping posture, when I struck him," said Bareny Cane, "with the butt of my gun on the side of his head, he fell over, but caught on one hand; I then knocked him the other way, when he caught with the other hand; a third blow I laid him dead. These were all scalped except the infant. In the morning, a party from the fort went and brought away the dead, together with one they found alive, although he was scalped, and the babe, which was hanging and sobbing at the bosom of its llifeless mother."
Having rested ourselves, and our tantalizing companions having finished the stories of their infamy, we descended the mountain towards the Genesee, which we came in sight of the next day about two o'clock. Here we were met by a small party of natives, who had come to the flats of the Genesee for the purpose of corn planting, as soon as the waters of the river should fall sufficiently to drain the ground of its water. These Indians had with them a very beautiful horse which Brant directed to be cut to pieces in a moment, and divided equally without dressing or any such fashionable delay, which was done, no part of the animal whatever being suffered to be lost. There fell to each man of the company but a small piece, which we roasted, using the white ashes of fires as salt, which gave it a delicious relish; this Brant himself showed us how to do. On these flats were found infinite quantities of ground nuts, a root in form and size about equal to a musket ball, which, being roasted, became exceedingly mealy and sweet. These, together with our new acquisition of horse-flesh, formed a delicious repast.
<< text continued in the Notes for his wife Molly, due to space limitations in Family TreeMaker>>
Notes for Isaac Patchin, 1761 - 23 Feb 1834
Web site states:
"From "A History of the Town of Jefferson 1771-1976" by Mildred L. Bailey, page 125-126:
Isaac Patchin, a Revolutionary soldier, was born November 25, 1763. (One record says1761 and was baptised in November 1763.) His birthplace was Norwalk of Fairfield County, Connecticut. He enlisted July 15, 1775 and was discharged December 22, 1775, having served in the 7th Regiment, 2nd Company.
He was one of the 13 men who under the command of Captain Alexander Harper, in the vicinity of Jefferson and Hapersfield, was surprised by Joseph Brant and a group of Tories. He was taken prisoner with his brother, Freegift and they were marched to Niagara and imprisoned at Chamble, Ontario, Canada. They remained there in chains, for two years, suffering everything but death. Then they were transferred to Rebel Island where they remained until peace was declared. From Rebel Island they went to Montreal and then to Quebec where they boarded a "cartel ship" and went to Boston. After a near shipwreck, they arrived in Boston. At this time, Freegift said, "I once more set foot on soil of my native land and rejoice that it was a land of Liberty and Independence." There is no doubt that Isaac felt the same way.
After the war, on March 24, 1789 he married Sally Gibbs. They moved to Jefferson and lived upon land owned by his wife and died February 23, 1834. Isaac and his wife, Sally, are buried in the Old Village Cemetery."
Notes for Molly Morehouse, 25 Nov 1760 - 2 Aug 1844
[ here continue the Notes of Molly's husband Freegift, as the Family TreeMaker program limits the size of Notes. ]
From this place Brant sent a runner to Niagra, a distance of about eighty miles, in order to inform the garrison of his approach, and of the number of prisoners he had, their names and quantity. This was a most humane act of Brant, and by this means he effected the removal of all the Indian warriors in the two camps contiguous to the fort. Brant was in possession of a secret respecting Harper, which he had carefully concealed in his own breast during the whole journey, and, probably, in the very first instance at the time when he discovered that Harper was his prisoner, operated by influencing him, if possible, in saving his life. This secret consisted in a knowledge that there was then in the fort a British officer who had married a niece of Harper, Jane More, whose mother was a sister of Captain Harper. This girl, together with the mother and a sister, had been captured at the massacre of Cherry Valley and taken to Niagra. This information was conveyed by means of the runner to the husband of Jane More, Captain Powell, who, when the girl was first brought by Butler and his Indians, a prisoner to the fort, loved, courted and honorably married. Now if Powell wished to save the life of his wife's uncle he had the opportunity, by doing as Brant had suggested, that was, to send the warriors of both camps down the lake to the nine-mile landing, with the expectation of meeting Brant there, whose prisoners would be given into their hands to be dealt with as the genius of their nature's customs might suggest. Accordingly, Powell told his wife that her uncle was among the prisoners of Brant, who had sent him word, and that the warriors must be sent away; to whom he gave a quantity of rum, as they thought, to aid in the celebration of their infernal pow-wows at the nine-mile landing, having obtained the consent of his superior, Colonel Butler to do so.
Brant had concealed, from both his Indians and Tories, as well as from the prisoners, that Powell, at the fort, was Harper's relative, or that he had made the above arrangement.
The reader may probably wish to know why the warriors in those two camps must be sent away, in order to save the lives of the prisoners. All persons acquainted with Indian customs in time of war, know very well that the unhappy wretch who falls into their hands at such a time, is compelled to run what is called the gauntlet, between two rows of Indians, composed of warriors, old men, women and children, who, as the prisoner flies between them, if possible, to reach a certain point assigned, called a councilhouse, or a fort, receives from every one who can reach him, a blow with the fist, club, hatchet or knife, and even wadding fired into their bodies, so that they generally with their wounds before they reach the appointed place, though they struggle with all the violence of hope and dispair. We had now, on the fourth day after the runner had been sent, arrived within two miles of Niagra, when the Tories began to tell us the danger we were soon to be exposed to, in passing those two Indian encampments, which, till then, we knew nothing of; this difficulty they were careful to describe in the most critical manner, so that every step, although so near our journey's end, when we hoped at least to have our hunger satisfied, was as the steps of the wretch condemned to die. But on the coming to the first encampment what was our surprise and joy at finding nothing there capable of injuring us but a few old women and children, who had indeed formed themselves as before described. However, one old squaw coming up in a very friendly manner saluted me by saying, "Poor shild, poor shild," when she gave me a blow, which, as I was tired, could not be parried, that nearly split my head in two. Directly we came to the second encampment, which was supposed to be more dangerous, as the most bloody warriors were, from choice, situated nearest the fort; but here, through the policy of Powell, a whole regiment of British troops were thrown into two parallel lines, extending through the whole encampment, to protect us, as here were many young lads of the natives quite able, if opportunity was given them, to hack and club us to death before we reached the fort, although it was to be our prisonhouse, was seen through the opening woods. I had come to within about five rods of the gateway, still agonizing under the effects of the old squaw's blow, when a young savage, about twelve years old, came running with a hatchet in his hand directly up to me, and seizing hold of the petunip line, or cord, by which I was tied, twitched me around so that we faced each other, when he gave me a blow between my eyes on the forehead that nearly dropped me dead, as I was weak and faint; the blood spouted out at a fearful rate, when a soldier snatched the little demon's hatchet and flung it into the lake. Whether Brant was awarded over and above the eight dollars, (which was the stipulated price per head), for Harper, or not, I cannot tell; but as was most natural to suppose, there was on the part of himself and niece great joy on so unexpectedly falling in with friends and relatives in the midst of enemies, and on the part of Powell respect and kindness was shown to Harper on account of the lovely Jane More, who had become a talisman of peace between them.
We had scarcely arrived when we were brought to the presence of a number of British officers of the Crown, who blazed in all the glory of military habiliments, and among them as chief, was the bloated, insolent, unprincipled, cruel, infamous Butler, whose name will stink in the recollections of men to the latest page of American history; because it was he who directed, rewarded, and encouraged the operations of the Indians and Tories all along from Canada to the State of Delaware. This man commenced in a very abusive manner to question us respecting American affairs; and addressing me in particular, probably because he was nearer me than any of the rest, whether I did not think that by and by his Indians would compel a general surrender of the Yankees! I replied to him in as modest a manner as possible, not feeling in a mood of repartee, as the blood from the wound in my forehead still continued to trickle down my face, covering my vest and bosom with blood, that I did not wish to say anything about it nor to give offense to anyone. But he would not excuse me; still insisting that I should say whether I did not think so; to which I firmly replied -- feeling what blood and spirit there were yet left in me, to rouse a little -- that if I must answer him, it was to say NO! and that he might as well think to empty the lake of its waters at a bucketful at a time, as to conquer the Yankees in that way. At which he burst out in a violent manner, calling me a dam'd rebel, for giving him such an insolent answer, and ordered me out of his sight; but here, when ready to sink to the floor, (not from anything the huge bulk of flesh had said to me, but from hunger, weariness, and the loss of blood,) a noble-hearted soldier interposed, saying to Butler, "The lad is not to blame, as you have compelled him to answer your question, which no doubt he has done according to the best of his judgment." "Here, poor fellow, take this glass of wine and drink." Thus the matter ended.
We were now given over to the care of a woman, Nancy Bundy by name, who had been ordered to prepare us a soup, made of proper materials, who was not slow to relieve our distress as far as she dare, as she also was a prisoner. But in taking off the belt that I had worn around my body, as the manner of the Indians is, to keep the wind out of the stomach, it appeared that I was falling to pieces, so strange was the sensation, that I was ready to disown my own body that I not been convinced by my other senses that there was no mistake.
I will just give the reader a short account of this woman, as I received it from herself. She stated that herself, husband, and two children were captured at the massacre of Wyoming, by Butler's Indians and Tories, and brought to the Genesee country, then entirely inhabited by the natives. There she was parted from her husband, the Indians carrying him she knew not where, but to some other and distant tribe. She had not been long in the possession of the tribe after her husband was taken away, when the Indian who had taken her prisoner, addressed her, and was desirous of making her his wife; but she repulsed him, saying very imprudently she had one husband, and it would be unlawful to have more than one. This seemed to satisfy him, and she saw no more of him for a long time; but after awhile he came back and renewed his suit, alleging that there were no objections to her marrying him as her husband was dead, for, said he, I found where he was and I have killed him. She then told him if he had killed her husband he might kill her also, for she could not marry a murderer. When he saw that she was resolute and that his person was hateful in her sight, he took and tied her, and brought her to this place and sold her for eight dollars.
From this prison, after being sold to the British garrison for eight dollars a head, we were sent across the lake to Carleton Island, from this place down to the Cedars; from the Cedars we were transported from place to place, till at length we were permanently lodged in the prison at Chambly. Here we were put in irons, and remained two years, suffering everything but death, for want of clothes, fire, food, medicine, exercise and pure air. At length from the weight and inconvenience of my irons I became so weak that I could not rise from the floor, when my fellow-suffered Thorp, who was not as badly off as myself, used to help me up.
The physician appointed to have the care of the prisoners, whose name was Pendergrass, paid but little attention to his charge, seldom visiting us, but never examining closely into our situation; consequently a description of my horrid condition would afflict the reader, on which account I forbear it. At length however this physician was removed and another put in his place, of entirely contrary character; he was humane, inquisitive, industrious and skillful.
When he came first to that part of the prison where myself and about twenty others were confined, the captain of the fort came with him, when the doctor proceeded to examine us, one by one, instead of giving us a general look only, as the other had done. The place where I sat was quite in the corner, I had chosen it because it was darkest and served to hide me from observation more than any other part of the room. I had contrived to get into my possession an old rug of some sort which partly hid my naked limbs; this I kept over my lap in the best possible manner.
After a while it became my turn to be examined, when he said: "Well my lad what is the matter with you?" From shame and fear lest he would witness the loathsome predicament which I was in, I said, "Nothing sir," "Well then," said he "get up." "I cannot sir", said I. He then took the end of his cane and putting it under the blanket that was partly over me, threw it to one side, and a spectacle of human suffering presented itself, such as he had not dreamed of seeing. I had fixed my eyes steadily on his face, to see if aught of pity moved his breast, which I knew I could trace in his countenance, if they appeared. He turned pale; a frown gathered on his brow, the curl of his lip denoted wrath; when he turned round to the captain of the fort, whose name was Steel, and looking steadily at him said, in a voice of thunder, "You infamous villain, in the name of God, are you murdering people alive here! send for your provost sergeant in a moment, and knock off that poor fellow's spare shackles, or I will smash you in a moment!" Oh, this language was balm to my wounds; was oil to my bleeding heart; it was the voice of sympathy, of determined mercy, and immediate relief. I had a soldier's heart, which shrank not; a fountain of tears I had not in the hour of battle; but now they rushed out amain, as if anxious to behold the man who, by his goodness had drawn them from their deep seclusion.
An entire change of situation now took place; our health was recovered, which rendered my imprisonment quite tolerable. From this place after a while we were sent to Rebel Island, or Cutodelack or Cutthroat Island, where we remained a year, when peace was declared.
We were now sent to Quebec and put on board a cartel ship, and sent round to Boston; though before we reached that place we were driven out to sea in a storm and nearly shipwrecked, suffering exceedingly; but at last arrived at the desired haven where I once more set foot on my native land and rejoice that it was a land of liberty and Independence. As fast as possible we made the best of our way to Old Schoharie, which was our home, after an absence of three years, during which I suffered much, as well as my companions, for the love of my country; which under the blessings of Heaven I have enjoyed these many years, feeling that it is a recompense in full measure.
May He, who never lost a battle perpetuate the blessing to those who have it, to the latest era of time.
<< Ironic note: The U.S. Congress Claims Committee, on Dec. 10, 1811 rejected Freegift's petition for compensation for his service in the militia. >>
Notes for Dexter Schuyler Osborn, 17 Nov 1826 - 9 Feb 1923
Website states:
"Was a Civil War veteran, 20th Cavalry Co. K. Lived in Clayton, NY in 1850. Lived in Depauville. Lived in Clayton for 75 years until his death. Was a blacksmith in 1850. Ran his own blacksmith shop at Clayton Center and also Depauville. Died a sudden death."
Notes for John Dexter Osborn, 5 May 1849 - 2 Dec 1935
Website states:
Joined the Sells Bros. circus as a youth, was their head blacksmith and horse trainer. Lived in Grand Rapids, MI in 1866. Was a blacksmith in a general shop for 64 years, retired in 10/1923. Broke his hip around 1923. Lived in Sandy Creek, NY for 47 years until his death. Died of a myocardial degeneraton.
Notes for David Wells, 1737 - 29 May 1790
Web site states:
Gravestone inscription reads:
"He left his weeping friends & resigned to death May 29th, 1790, in the 53rd year of his age."
"There is no discharge in that war.
O reader come and cast an eye
On this grave wherein I lye
For death has called and conquered me
And in a short time will conquer thee."
Notes for Benjamin G. English, about 1832 - 21 Feb 1905
All the following was very kindly reported by Larry Miller:
"Benjamin G. English"
Benjamin G. English died February 21, 1905, at 73 years. He was one of the pioneers of Manchester and a prominent and wealthy farmer. He lived on his farm five miles southwest of the village until moving to the village a few years before his death.
History says he was well posted on affairs of the world, was a great reader, and possessed a remarkable memory as to dates and events. He was in favor of schools and education and contributed liberally to Hillsdale College. He was
long-time president of the Farmers' Club and was interested in its work. Politically he had been an ardent democrat until Bryan's campaign. He was Justice of the Peace for many years and by his wise counsel settled many differences between neighbors. When the Union Savings Bank was organized he was made president, and held the office until his death.
...
You mentioned that the parents of Sarah English are Richard and Susannah Green English, and I have some more information for you from the same Manchester history book. There is an article entitled "Iron Creek is Five Lakes (Elwin B. English)":
'Another important name in the early history of Manchester Township is English. On the occasion of his 90th birthday, the late Elwin B. English related a few of the interesting things he remembered. That was in February 1964.
"Most people don't know that Iron Creek wasn't always one big pond." he reflected. "Iron Creek is made up of five lakes, including the Iron and Crane Lakes. When they dammed the water and built the sawmill the five lakes simply made
up one big pond. When the country was new, I think they intended to have a town at Iron Creek. There was a store there at one time, and, of course, the sawmill."
His parents were Benjamin and Mary Baldwin English. His mother used to tell of coming to Iron Creek, four miles southwest of Manchester. Her family left Clarendon, N.Y. for Michigan, May 10, 1836, crossed Lake Erie on a barge, and 10 days later their prarie schooner arrived on the south side of Iron Lake. They were headed for the farm of an uncle, William Baldwin. Although it was night, the uncle and his family had kept a sharp lookout and saw the lights
on the wagon. Mrs. English said it wasn't long before she was perched on her uncle's shoulder and he was carrying her across the Iron Lake. There was no bridge and people had to know where to ford the creek.
"My grandparents, Richard and Susannah Green English, built a log house and mother used to tell about the stick chimney." English said. "Their frame house was built in 1852. Then in 1870 they built the frame house where my niece and husband, the Ed Wisners live."
The wood for the house was obtained right on the farm and sawed into lumber at the Iron Creek mill. Sheep raising was a very important part of the history of the Iron Creek farmer and Mr. English told how the farmers used to think they had to wash the sheep before shearing.
"They'd drive them down to the creek and pen the sheep up in yards. A fellow would wade in and wash each one for about a cent a piece. Then the farmer would drive the wet sheep back home over the dirt road with the dust-a-flying. My opinion was that they'd be dirtier when they finished than at the start.
"Sometimes the sheep dropped from exhaustion right in the road until the water had a chance to run out of the wool. I used to like to watch them wash the sheep. We never took ours to the mill because we had a lake on the farm and washed them at home. In those days they paid more for washed wool." the late Mr. English said.
The only person living today, 1967, who went to school at the Iron Creek country school with the late Mr. English is Percy Kelly, and the only person living who graduated with him from high school in 1893, is May Eylesworth Parks.
At the time of his 90th birthday he told about the 4th of July celebrations that the village used to have and lamented that he guessed they were a thing of the past. He would have enjoyed to the fullest the Centennial July 4th celebration, for he recalled an early one when a fellow parachuted out from a balloon at low altitude, after it sprung a leak, shortly after leaving the ground. They tried to throw up wet sponges to put out the fire, but it didn't work. "The fellow jumped and slid down the steep roof on the present Keasal home. There he was rescued." Mr. English said.'
Notes for Mary Baldwin, ---- - ----
The following was very kindly reported by Larry Miller:
You mentioned that the parents of Sarah English are Richard and Susannah Green English, and I have some more information for you from the same Manchester history book. There is an article entitled "Iron Creek is Five Lakes (Elwin B. English)":
'Another important name in the early history of Manchester Township is English. On the occasion of his 90th birthday, the late Elwin B. English related a few of the interesting things he remembered. That was in February 1964.
"Most people don't know that Iron Creek wasn't always one big pond." he reflected. "Iron Creek is made up of five lakes, including the Iron and Crane Lakes. When they dammed the water and built the sawmill the five lakes simply made
up one big pond. When the country was new, I think they intended to have a town at Iron Creek. There was a store there at one time, and, of course, the sawmill."
His parents were Benjamin and Mary Baldwin English. His mother used to tell of coming to Iron Creek, four miles southwest of Manchester. Her family left Clarendon, N.Y. for Michigan, May 10, 1836, crossed Lake Erie on a barge, and 10 days later their prarie schooner arrived on the south side of Iron Lake. They were headed for the farm of an uncle, William Baldwin. Although it was night, the uncle and his family had kept a sharp lookout and saw the lights
on the wagon. Mrs. English said it wasn't long before she was perched on her uncle's shoulder and he was carrying her across the Iron Lake. There was no bridge and people had to know where to ford the creek.
"My grandparents, Richard and Susannah Green English, built a log house and mother used to tell about the stick chimney." English said. "Their frame house was built in 1852. Then in 1870 they built the frame house where my niece and husband, the Ed Wisners live."
The wood for the house was obtained right on the farm and sawed into lumber at the Iron Creek mill. Sheep raising was a very important part of the history of the Iron Creek farmer and Mr. English told how the farmers used to think they had to wash the sheep before shearing.
"They'd drive them down to the creek and pen the sheep up in yards. A fellow would wade in and wash each one for about a cent a piece. Then the farmer would drive the wet sheep back home over the dirt road with the dust-a-flying. My opinion was that they'd be dirtier when they finished than at the start.
"Sometimes the sheep dropped from exhaustion right in the road until the water had a chance to run out of the wool. I used to like to watch them wash the sheep. We never took ours to the mill because we had a lake on the farm and washed them at home. In those days they paid more for washed wool." the late Mr. English said.
The only person living today, 1967, who went to school at the Iron Creek country school with the late Mr. English is Percy Kelly, and the only person living who graduated with him from high school in 1893, is May Eylesworth Parks.
At the time of his 90th birthday he told about the 4th of July celebrations that the village used to have and lamented that he guessed they were a thing of the past. He would have enjoyed to the fullest the Centennial July 4th celebration, for he recalled an early one when a fellow parachuted out from a balloon at low altitude, after it sprung a leak, shortly after leaving the ground. They tried to throw up wet sponges to put out the fire, but it didn't work. "The fellow jumped and slid down the steep roof on the present Keasal home. There he was rescued." Mr. English said.'
Notes for Elwin B. English, about Feb 1874 - between Feb 1964 and 1967
The following was very kindly reported by Larry Miller:
You mentioned that the parents of Sarah English are Richard and Susannah Green English, and I have some more information for you from the same Manchester history book. There is an article entitled "Iron Creek is Five Lakes (Elwin B. English)":
'Another important name in the early history of Manchester Township is English. On the occasion of his 90th birthday, the late Elwin B. English related a few of the interesting things he remembered. That was in February 1964.
"Most people don't know that Iron Creek wasn't always one big pond." he reflected. "Iron Creek is made up of five lakes, including the Iron and Crane Lakes. When they dammed the water and built the sawmill the five lakes simply made
up one big pond. When the country was new, I think they intended to have a town at Iron Creek. There was a store there at one time, and, of course, the sawmill."
His parents were Benjamin and Mary Baldwin English. His mother used to tell of coming to Iron Creek, four miles southwest of Manchester. Her family left Clarendon, N.Y. for Michigan, May 10, 1836, crossed Lake Erie on a barge, and 10 days later their prarie schooner arrived on the south side of Iron Lake. They were headed for the farm of an uncle, William Baldwin. Although it was night, the uncle and his family had kept a sharp lookout and saw the lights
on the wagon. Mrs. English said it wasn't long before she was perched on her uncle's shoulder and he was carrying her across the Iron Lake. There was no bridge and people had to know where to ford the creek.
"My grandparents, Richard and Susannah Green English, built a log house and mother used to tell about the stick chimney." English said. "Their frame house was built in 1852. Then in 1870 they built the frame house where my niece and [her] husband, the Ed Wisners live."
The wood for the house was obtained right on the farm and sawed into lumber at the Iron Creek mill. Sheep raising was a very important part of the history of the Iron Creek farmer and Mr. English told how the farmers used to think they had to wash the sheep before shearing.
"They'd drive them down to the creek and pen the sheep up in yards. A fellow would wade in and wash each one for about a cent a piece. Then the farmer would drive the wet sheep back home over the dirt road with the dust-a-flying. My opinion was that they'd be dirtier when they finished than at the start.
"Sometimes the sheep dropped from exhaustion right in the road until the water had a chance to run out of the wool. I used to like to watch them wash the sheep. We never took ours to the mill because we had a lake on the farm and washed them at home. In those days they paid more for washed wool." the late Mr. English said.
The only person living today, 1967, who went to school at the Iron Creek country school with the late Mr. English is Percy Kelly, and the only person living who graduated with him from high school in 1893, is May Eylesworth Parks.
At the time of his 90th birthday he told about the 4th of July celebrations that the village used to have and lamented that he guessed they were a thing of the past. He would have enjoyed to the fullest the Centennial July 4th celebration, for he recalled an early one when a fellow parachuted out from a balloon at low altitude, after it sprung a leak, shortly after leaving the ground. They tried to throw up wet sponges to put out the fire, but it didn't work. "The fellow jumped and slid down the steep roof on the present Keasal home. There he was rescued." Mr. English said.'
Notes for David Patchin, 22 Nov 1845 - 10 Nov 1864
David and his fifteen year old brother Horatio enlisted on the same day, in the same Union Army unit, and each died of disease within the year.
Regimental records show 188 men died of disease or accident, and 5 died of battle wounds, (unknown number captured).
Notes for Horatio Patchin, 9 Nov 1848 - 19 Jun 1864
Horatio and his eighteen year old brother David enlisted on the same day, in the same Union Army unit, and each died of disease within the year.
After enlisting, Horatio died of "disease" before his regiment fought any battles. In fact, regimental records show 188 men died of disease or accident, and 5 died of battle wounds, (unknown number captured).
Notes for Ethel Carow Roosevelt, 13 Aug 1891 - 3 Dec 1977
Web site states:
During World War I, Ethel, now a nurse served in France in the same hospital as her husband served as a surgeon. Later, she became involved with the Red Cross, and served as Nassau County Chairman during World War II, and then as Chairman of the Nassau County Nursing Service. Her long involvement, even while traveling, is shown by her correspondence still residing in the Nassau County Red Cross archives. When the Red Cross recently brought her Fifty Year Service Pin to Sagamore Hill, they had to correct themselves - it was not fifty years of service, it was sixty. When it came time to have her portrait painted, she did not choose to wear an evening gown and jewels, she wore her Red Cross uniform.
She put in many years of work to turn Sagamore Hill into a National Historic Site. Ethel was one of the first two women to serve on the Board of Trustees of the American Museum of Natural History.
Notes for Jonathan Prindle, 1 Jul 1704 - 10 Apr 1782
Web site states:
Jonathan settled in Waterbury near Center Square in 1726.
...with her and bound him as an apprentice to Isaac Bronson,of Waterbury, tolearn the art or trade of shoe making and tanning.
..."the Company or trainband, parish of Westbury, in the town of Waterberry."
Notes for Eleazer Prindle, 20 Mar 1732/33 - 3 May 1814
Web site states:
He was the Rev. Eleazer Prindle who helped to establish the Episcopal Church in Waterbury, and his name appears on a list of "the Churchman of Waterbury," in 1764, entering into an agreement "to hold public worship in Westbury on those Sundays when there was no preaching in Waterbury," until a church could be built there.
Notes for Chauncy Prindle, 13 Jul 1753 - 25 Aug 1833
Web site states:
Chauncy entered Yale College in 1772, graduated as A.B., 17 Jul 1776, and received the degree of A.M. in Sep 1779. He prepared for the ministry, and was admitted to the Holy Orders of Deacon in St. John's Church,Stamford, in Jun 1787, and was ordained Priest in St. James' Church, New London, 24 Feb 1788.
...Church at Westbury at a salary of 30 Pounds Sterling, "to be paid in beef, pork, butter, tallow, wool, flax, or any sort of grain," and continued as rector until his resignation in 1804. He was for several years rector of the churches at Naugatuck and Oxford, having been the first minister of the parish of St. Peter's at the latter place, and was rector of Trinity Protestant Episcopal Church, Seymour, Ct. in 1815.
...and it is related as an instance of his punctuality in the discharge of duty, that on one occasion, when he was to preach at Waterbury, he found the Naugatuck much swollen by a flood, and rather than fail in his appointment he plunged in on his horse and swam the stream. He was noted for a sound and forcible intellect and stern integrity, and was orthodox and firm in his principles. He was a useful minister."
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