From: "ALICE Millett Bakemeier" <abakemeier@comcast.net>
Sent: Thursday, March 06, 2014 11:25 AM
 I have a lot of family history on the William Dickson side of the family
and Helen, Ruth, Dan and Bill. Here goes:

> WILLIAM JAMES DICKSON (1819-1887)
> by his son, Rev. William John Dickson (1840-1911) in the handwriting of
> his daughter, Ruth Dickson Millett
>            I am descended on my father’s side first from an old Scotch
> family by the name of Dickson, which is supposed at some time years back,
> to have originated in Sweden.  One branch of this family was titled.  The
> younger branch was wealthy and were called silk-weavers being extensively
> engaged in the silk business.  Wm. Dickson of this family somewhere about
> the year 1800 married Mary Smith, daughter of John Smith a contractor of
> army supplies, of prominence and wealth.  It is to be regretted that the
> younger men of these two families now united by this marriage, although
> men of considerable ability and fine physique, were wild and improvident,
> so that with the exception of this part of the Dickson family in the
> person of my father’s grandfather, gradually wasted their substance.  The
> families on both sides declined in prominence and wealth.  Mary Dickson,
> formerly Mary Smith, had a younger sister named Catherine, a young lady of
> unusual ability and culture, who married Dr. James Thorn of Colchester,
> Eng. which city was the principal seat of the Smith family.  Dr. Thorn
> came from a distinguished family of that name connected with the nobility.
> Being in his youth, somewhat wild, he became engaged in a duel in which he
> severely wounded his antagonist. Consequently he fled to America, where he
> and his wife lived many years in Troy, N.Y.  He achieved great success as
> a physician and was mayor of Troy.  He had a son James, a young man of
> great ability and promise, who was elected at the age of 28 to the New
> York legislature, but died the next near, cutting short a life that no
> doubt would have been both prosperous and useful.  Dr. Thorn died in the
> early seventies,  Mrs. Thorn surviving him, until the year 1890.
>
> There were born to William Dickson and his wife Mary two sons, the oldest
> being William James born in the year 1819 and his brother Sidney in the
> year 1825.  The latter son a fine active young man six feet in height,
> robust health, and pleasing disposition, made a voyage to Dumerrara, South
> America at the age of 19 and unfortunately contracted the fever so fatal
> in that country, from the effects of which he died and was buried in a
> strange land.  My father, William James Dickson, as a man was of medium
> height strongly built, dark hair, hazel eyes, aquiline nose attractive
> countenance and possessed a great endurance of body and activity of mind.
> Through the incompatibility of his father and mother, a separation took
> place, the mother having the care of the children, and returning to the
> home of her father.  Some time after the separation from his wife, Mr.
> Dickson left his house in London one morning on some business, and not
> returning, was never afterwards heard of.  My father was brought up by his
> mother and grandfather and spoiled by his grandmother. His grandfather was
> somewhat of a remarkable character, a man of great energy and force of
> character, subject to terrible fits of passion when crossed.  His
> appearance at such times was so terrible that he was called a Black Smith,
> so my father was alternately punished and caressed by his grandfather and
> grandmother.  At the age of 7 he was sent to boarding school where he
> remained until he was 14 years of age.  His natural abilities were so
> great and the situation so efficient that at that age he had completed the
> mathematical part of his education, being a competent surveyor.  Having
> some misunderstanding with the principal of the school, he left school
> suddenly and returned to his home.  His grandfather sternly ordered him to
> return.
> My father settled the matter by running away to sea.  The vessel was bound
> for the west coast of Africa on a trading voyage.  The Captain was very
> tyrannical in his treatment of the crew, so my father and one of the other
> boys on the vessel made up their minds to desert at the first opportunity.
> The vessel had been laying at anchor in the Congo river for some time when
> the two boys were ordered with some of the rest of the crew, to go ashore
> for some purpose.  While their companions were occupied in dealing with
> the natives, the boys slipped away and traveled with all possible speed
> into the interior.  They followed a well-beaten trail for some days having
> met with some friendly natives.  They stopped for some days in a small
> village where they had never seen any white people, consequently they were
> great curiosities to the negroes.
> After spending some time with their native friends they returned to the
> coast and found their vessel had sailed without them.  They soon got tired
> of their sojourn with their dark-skinned friends, so they solicited and
> obtained employment on the next vessel that anchored there.  She was a
> pretty specimen of naval architecture, being an American schooner,
> designed for great speed.  After they had been on board a short time, they
> were surprised to see a number of large canoes being paddled down the
> river and finally made fast to the ship.  These canoes were filled with
> several hundred negro captives.  They were brought on board in chains, and
> shut up in pens and then the boys realized that they were part of the crew
> of an American slaves.  After they had completed taking in their living
> freight and sufficient water, they set sail for the state of Georgia.
> When they were within a few hundred miles of the American coast, a United
> States man of war gave chase and ordered them to lay to.  They tried to
> escape by outsailing the man of war, but were unable to do so on account
> of her superior speed so in their desperation, they ran the schooner
> ashore and leaping over her side swam to the nearest beach and ran for
> their lives, for at this time the United States law looked upon slaves as
> pirates.  My father and his youthful companion were overtaken and
> consigned to the jail in Savannah.  The boys pleaded in defense their
> ignorance of the character of the vessel where they joined her crew.
> War at that time was in progress with the Seminole Indians, and there was
> quite a demand for recruits for the United States army.  They were
> discharged by the court with the understanding that they would enlist in
> the United States service, which they did by joining an Infantry regiment,
> the number of which I have forgotten.  They were soon forwarded to the
> seat of hostilities in Florida and were under the command of Col. Taylor
> who afterwards became the hero of Buena Vista and President of the United
> States.  He took part in a good deal of severe fighting, was promoted to
> the rank of sergeant and  Commissary clerk.  Having become engaged in a
> quarrel with a superior officer he struck him, and fled to escape the
> court martial.  He traveled on foot most of the way through the southern
> states, receiving much kindness at the hands of the planters.
> He finally found his way north to Troy, N. Y. where Dr. Thorn and his wife
> were living.  They had now become well off, and people of influence.
> After a short stay with them, they furnished him the means to return to
> England.  Without visiting his home he returned as one of the crew of a
> whaler about to sail on  a three years voyage.  She sailed across the
> Atlantic around Cape Horn and hunted the monsters of the deep in the
> Pacific Ocean.  On one occasion when they had speared a whale and were
> about to finish their work with lancers, the dying leviathan was seized
> with a sudden rage and with the blow of his immense tail smashed the wat?
> in to pieces.  My father escaped with a broken leg.  After some time the
> bone having been healed as well as could be done without a surgeon, he was
> able to return to duty.  He sailed from the Pacific through the Indian
> ocean to the east coast of Africa.  The ship was becalmed for about six
> weeks off the barren desolate coast of Abyssinia.  Going with a party of
> his mess-mates on shore one day, they had gone some short distance inland
> when they were  suddenly attacked by a band of savages, and had to run for
> their lives.  In the haste of the pursuit my father was separated from his
> comrades who reached the boat in safely and pushed off without waiting for
> him.  He being an excellent runner reached the coast a short distance
> ahead of his pursuers and found himself on a high cliff overlooking the
> water.  As he jumped, a spear thrown by one of the savages pierced his leg
> and in the force of the concussion as he struck the water the scarcely
> knit bone previously fractured was again broken.  He was rescued by his
> companions on the boat and carried on board ship.  The head of the spear
> was so firmly embedded in the limb that it had to be cut out with a knife,
> an operation sufficiently painful when you remember that chloroform at
> that time was unknown, and the surgical operation had to be performed by
> the rough hand of the ship’s carpenter.
> During the long-continued calm the crew becalmed off this forbidding and
> hostile coast, were compelled to live for weeks upon “salt horse” and ship
> biscuits.  The consequence was my father in addition to his terrible wound
> was seized with the scurvy.  They finally made their way to Locroto? on
> the coast of Arabia.  He was in a deplorable condition but was taken in
> hand by some friendly Arabs who employed a very peculiar treatment.  A
> hole was dug in the sand and his body and lower limbs were buried, leaving
> only his head, arms and shoulders above ground for almost 24 hours.
> Either through the healing powers of mother earth or his own strong
> recuperative power he finally began to mend and in a few months was as
> well and active as ever.
> At the expiration of the three years, he returned to England, called on
> his family, but refused to leave the sea and then spent a few weeks in
> London having a sort of vacation and general good time when he fell in
> love with a Miss Clara Darby, daughter of a prosperous coal merchant.
> They were engaged to be married on the return from his next voyage.  He
> shipped on board a schooner bound for the Amazon and Crinoeo? rivers.  The
> object of the voyage was to secure a cargo of wild beasts, serpents and
> electric eels for the zoological gardens of London.  He had many
> adventures in sailing up these two wonderful streams, which ? limited
> space forbids mention.  They were entirely successful in making the
> desired collection and among other curiosities he secured a Brazilian
> tiger cub for a pet.  They got on very well together until the cub was
> half grown the animal sleeping at night with my father in his hammock.
> One night when they had nearly reached England my father was awakened by
> the creature licking his shoes so hard that it hurt him.  He then began to
> growl and fasten his teeth in the flesh.  He immediately dealt him a heavy
> blow which sent him cowering to the foot of the hammock.  The creature’s
> natural taste for human blood had prevailed over his fondness for his
> master.  From that time he was kept in confinement with the other animals.
> Several years after my father having married, he was taking a walk in the
> zoological gardens in London when he was surprised to see a fine Brazilian
> tiger trying to get through the bars to reach him and showing every
> evidence of affection, showing that the poor animal notwithstanding his
> nature still retained a fond remembrance of his old comrade.
> The vessel arrived safely in London and my father who had during the
> voyage been promoted to second mate received his pay and left the vessel.
> He hastened to a large house in Whitehorse lane Stepney? at that time a
> respectable part of the great Capitol, impassioned to see his promised
> bride.  He found to his astonishment that she had been false to her
> engagement and had in the meantime married a man Henry Terry.  Thoroughly
> disgusted with his treatment on shore, he at once shipped on another
> whaler for a three years voyage accompanied by William Darby, brother of
> the fair but unfaithful Clara.  Many months passed by with the usual
> routine unmarked by anything strange or startling.  At length a frightful
> catastrophe occurred.  The cook was a surly mulatto very much disliked by
> the crew, who were not slow in tormenting him with sundry tricks and
> jokes.  In revenge one Sunday, the cook made the usual plum duff? but
> substituted the chewed grinds of tobacco for raisins and served it up to
> the hungry and expectant crew.  It was an unfortunate thing and led to
> terrible results.  He was set upon and beaten by the exasperated men.  The
> latter part of the afternoon smoke was seen issuing from on of the
> hatches.  The latter had fled the vessel.  Before he could be seized he
> rushed to the side of the vessel, mounted the rail, drew a razor across
> his throat and jumped overboard.  The fire resisted every effort to
> extinguish it and the crew were compelled to take to the boats abandoning
> the vessel to mid-ocean.  They had abundance of time however to store
> their boats with food, water and everything necessary.  It was almost an
> absolute calm so that they were in no danger.  They directed their course
> towards the South American shores, but were picked up by a merchant vessel
> bound for New York where they safely arrived.
> My father and his friend next shipped on an American vessel bound for
> Montreal but disliking the Captain and his treatment of them they deserted
> their vessel at Montreal and concealed themselves until they obtained a
> canoe, with which they attempted to go down the St. Lawrence.  They left
> in the dead of night to avoid arrest, but were hailed by a sentry who
> fired at them without result.  They continued on down the river and in the
> daylight undertook to shoot the rapids, a thing seldom done except by the
> experienced Canadian boatmen.  Strange to relate they passed through in
> safety, shipped on another vessel in Quebec bound for England where they
> arrived safely some weeks after.
> Revisiting the Darby home where he had experienced his bitter
> disappointment he fell in love with Sarah Darby the youngest daughter of
> the family only 14 years of age.  Of course the parents would not consent
> to the marriage at such an immature age, although she was large and
> unusually well-developed for one so youthful.  The result was a runaway
> match.  My father communicated the news of this transaction to his family
> who were very indignant because they considered him in the first place too
> young and in the second place that he had discredited the family by
> marrying beneath him.  The Darby family were respectable and well-to-do
> but ranked lower in the social scale than the Dicksons and the Smiths, who
> were as I formerly stated allied to the aristocracy.  Mr. Darby was a
> successful coal-merchant having a large and somewhat extravagant family.
> The names of the daughters were Betsy, Kate, Clara, Sarah and Margaret.
> The sons were John, William and George.  Margaret died suddenly soon after
> finishing her educational course, of heart disease.  Clara died about the
> year 1870.  William soon after.  John who had become very wealthy and had
> a large handsome residence in Rugby stables containing many valuable
> horses and a well stocked wine cellar and was noted for his extensive
> hospitalities including among his guests many distinguished persons.  He
> died during the later seventies.  Betsy and Kate passed away the latter
> part of the year 1897.
> The father John Darby married a Miss Turner a daughter of captain Turner
> quite a prominent man in the Hudson’s Bay service commanding one of their
> vessels.  He is sister in law Miss Catharine Turner was a highly educated
> young lady and was Principal of the Young Ladies Seminary in London.
> Then, for some reason not known to me, removed to Toronto, Canada where
> she became the second wife of the then George Gurnett for a long time
> Police Magistrate, and during two terms mayor of the city.  he had two
> daughters Virginia and Helen.  At that time Ontario was a separate
> province and Toronto, the residence of the Gov. General, consequently the
> society was brilliant and distinguished and the Misses Virginia and Helen
> were for some years belles and great favorites, enjoying the honor at one
> time of dancing with the Prince of Wales on his visit to that city.  Mr.
> Darby lived to be nearly 70 years old.  When visiting some business friend
> in his office, he suddenly fell dead.  Notwithstanding the liberal way in
> which they had lived, he left the family well provided for but then
> continued liberal expenditure constantly reduced their moderate fortune so
> that when Mrs. Darby died in 1851 there was only about 18,000 dollars to
> divide among the heirs.
> My mother being absent in America at the time, was overlooked and received
> nothing except a few trinkets.  They however lived very happily and had a
> delightful circle of friends: Betsy the eldest daughter married a Mr.
> Lease and afterward Mr. Jennison. she was a bright, active, intelligent
> and cultured woman, but experienced many adverse strokes of fortune, so
> that she was compelled to teach for many years, having again been left a
> widow.  She had one son Robert who I think has been unsuccessful in
> business, and whose whereabouts I am uncertain.  Kate married a Mr. Covey
> a man some 30 years older than herself of some small means and
> considerable culture, but more fond of spending money that of making it.
> They had a large family.  Robert their eldest son and particular pride was
> an unexceptionally nice young man, married well and had a good position in
> the London and Westminister bank, but unfortunately became insane and is
> now I believe confined in an asylum, his wife receiving some small pension
> from the bank, for his former excellent service.  Kate the eldest girl and
> quite a beauty is now approaching fifty and still unmarried.  Laura, a
> younger sister has married into a wealthy family and is living in London
> in considerable style.  The rest of the family have not amounted to much
> with the exception of Matilda, daughter of Mr. Govery by his first wife,
> who although plain and with a neglected education and only one lung, has
> devoted her whole life heroically and unselfishly to the service of a
> step-mother and her numerous family.
>
> My father, disgusted at the cruel treatment he received at the hands of
> his family on account of his marriage, procured the appointment as Captain
> of a coasting vessel, and made a number of voyages, my mother accompanying
> him.  After some months had passed my father, through the influence of his
> family who had somewhat relented although they still refused to recognize
> my mother’s family, procured a very lucrative position in the engineering
> staff of the eastern county’s railway, Taking up his residence in a pretty
> cottage in the beautiful village of Brentwood a few miles east of London.
> My mother frequently visited her mother and during one of these visits I
> was born on a bright and sunny April morning on Wednesday April 15th 1840.
> Such an event, especially when it occurs in its Grandmother’s house, makes
> the little stranger a centre of family and local interest.  There is
> generally some curiosity as to the color of its eyes, and who it
> resembles.  In this case it is to be hoped that the little stranger did
> not resemble any one that he cared much about for his mother unfortunately
> overheard one of his aunts say to another in an adjoining room, “Don’t he
> for all the world look like a little monkey.”  Wearing the gauntlet of the
> usual unpleasantnesses that babies are heirs to he gradually turned from
> red to white, cut his teeth one by one and did most of the things usually
> required of such young people.  Having in mind his future duties as
> soldier and increasing missionary he learned to walk at an unusually early
> age.  The months of history records the fact alight.  He had a narrow
> escape from an untimely taking off showing that he was not born to be
> drowned at least not on the right side of fifty.
> A nurse girl having him in charge, took him one day when he was nearly two
> years old for his customary morning walk.  She had unfortunately been
> crossed in love and forgetting or not knowing that there were “better fish
> in the sea” than any that had yet been caught, she unwisely decided to put
> an end to her unhappy existence.  So she drew near to one of the public
> wells of the little town, kissed me good-bye and prepared to take the
> final plunge when it suddenly occurred to her that if she did so that her
> little charge was as ready to follow a bad example as well as good with
> equal readiness, would undoubtedly up and follow her so as not to be left
> alone.  So she hurried back to the cottage to put me in safe keeping but
> when she saw my mother she broke down, burst into tears and told her
> sorrowful story.  Listening to the advice of my youthful mother, she
> concluded to live a while longer, and from henceforth a wiser and I trust
> a better girl.
> At the end of two years after my birth my father, whose income was equal
> to about 6000 dollars a year, having served up a considerable sum of money
> and falling-out with some of his brother officials, resigned, having
> received an appointment to an extensive Canadian railway scheme.  He
> sailed with my mother and self from London on good Friday of the year 1842
> on board a sailing ship.  The voyage was long, occupying some six weeks,
> but pleasant and uneventful.  The usual monotony was at one time broken by
> an act of mine that made my friends and well-wishers wonder how I would
> ultimately turn out.  It was our custom to mess with the Captain and
> officers of the ship.  The captain one day said something to me at the
> table which excited my unmitigated indignation.  In revenge I seized a
> lump of the plum-pudding on my plate and hurled it straight at his face.
> The vessel arrived safely in Montreal and my father took us on a steamer
> to Toronto where after some weeks delay he received the disappointing
> communication that for some reason to me unknown the building of the
> projected railroad had been abandoned.  Having quite a little capital to
> begin with he decided to go into business which he did in Toror? So.
> Africa visiting Prescott and some other places.  His training had not been
> along business lines, and after a struggle of some two or three years
> duration he failed, losing everything.  Too proud to ask assistance of his
> family and failing to get anything better, he finally accepted the
> position as teacher in the school-house of a little village some twenty
> miles west of Toronto called the Town Line.  During the years of our
> residence in Toronto, through my mother’s assistance and the free use of
> my father’s razor strap, I had learned to read and spell uncommonly well
> for a child of my age. When one rector, the Rev. Warr, afterwards a
> prominent clergyman of Liverpool, England,  used to visit us, after he was
> commonly refreshed with a glass of wine, he was edified by hearing me read
> to him the 5th chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew, an infliction which
> he bore with Christian resignation, because he was a very polite gentleman
> and wished to please my pretty young mother.
> I can recall an event, in the history of my childhood that is probably
> impossible for the majority of children to remember although fifty years
> and more have passed since then.  I distinctly remember walking out with
> my mother upon a fine spring morning bearing the date of March 12th, 1844,
> which was my mother’s nineteenth birthday.  I can see her now, and was
> proud even then of the fact that I had the prettiest and youngest mother
> in the neighborhood.  We had for neighbors such families as the Skinners,
> Adamses, Hamiltons and Jarvises ever then prominent, that which with the
> development of the country became influential and wealthy, descendants of
> which are still well known and honored in the political and social life of
> Toronto and vicinity.  The Hennod? homestead was about two miles distant
> from our village home.  He recently deceased, was my mother’s uncle by
> marriage.  His wife had passed away long before, and Annie at this time
> about 25 years of age, Napoleon her brother, a year or two younger a man
> over six feet in height, were the surviving children.  It was a delight to
> me to visit them and to wander about their stables and grounds and
> expensive rambling old house.  They were both rather close, and saving me
> was somewhat of a favorite.  I was frequently favored with acceptable
> presents.  A dog of humble origin, of plebian blood was my constant
> companion.  He answered to the name of Tiger, and although a very peaceful
> animal for one bearing so terrible an appellation, he finally came to
> grief for killing a neighbor’s chickens to my great sorrow and regret.
> The bane of my life was the frequent visits of the Indians, who in their
> moccasins approached so softly that I was always unaware of their comings
> until they opened the door and walked in, for they never conformed to the
> unnecessary formality of knocking.  My place of refuge was always under my
> mother’s bed, which I sought without any unnecessary delay.  On my fifth
> birthday I had the great pleasure of the company of little Mary Granger
> who with Tiger and myself enjoyed a general good time and the birthday
> cake.  On my sixth birthday the program was varied and I was taken by my
> mother to visit the Henrrod’s.   Somewhat startled by the sudden
> appearance of a strange and rather disreputable looking man, I took fright
> and fell into an unusually deep mud puddle.  I was safely rescued by the
> innocent cause of my alarm and reached my destination looking much the
> worse for my journey.  I was put to bed while my clothes were bring
> cleaned and dried, but forgot all about my troubles upon my return home
> when favored with another birthday cake, well stuffed with large fat
> raisins.
> About this time I had another fall, which was in love, and which was the
> first fall of that nature.  It was with Miss Mary Adamson, an attractive
> and accomplished young lady of eighteen.  I wrote her a letter declaring
> my affection, but she kindly but firmly rejected me and afterwards married
> a Mr. Skinner, a man who though burdened by so suggestive a name, made her
> a good and kind husband and became a very prominent man in Toronto.  At
> that time it seemed to me that she made a great mistake for I fully
> expected to be a king sitting upon a throne some day.  My father having
> received a better appointment in a school at Dundas not far off removed to
> that place somewhere between 1945 and 1946 occupying a large old-fashioned
> mansion called “Irving House,”  The immense kitchen had a very large
> fireplace where I loved to sit in the winter time on my little stool
> beside the fire of great logs.  There was a large orchard and fine garden
> which my father, who had a excellent taste in these matters, made quite
> pretty.  Mary and Lizzie Proudfoot, little girls of about my own age, were
> my chief companions.  They were the daughters of the village merchant.  We
> lived here very happily save one accident to my mother.  The long
> old-fashioned well swept, parked in the middle one day as she was drawing
> water and fell breaking her collar bone.
> One evening as my father was milking and it seems that I can see it as
> plainly now as then, although fifty years have passed away, mother came
> out from the house, having cleared away the tea things and leaning over
> the fence began to persuade my father to save up as much as possible of
> his salary with a view of returning to England as soon as enough was
> accumulated to pay the passage.  Father was a little unwilling at first,
> but when mother spoke of her great wish to return home where she could be
> near her mother, brothers and sisters and reminded father how easily his
> influential relations could procure him some position, he finally
> consented.  By the time I was seven years old they had everything in
> readiness.  Bidding farewell to their many kind friends, we left for
> Toronto, intending to stay there two weeks with my Aunt Kate since known
> as Aunt Albany, and then so take a steamboat from Toronto down the lake
> and the St. Lawrence river to Montreal and there take the  ship for
> London.  I was delighted with a stay in Toronto.  The busy streets and the
> large stores, with their great variety of goods,  and the fine public
> buildings were of never failing interest.  My great delight however, was
> attending the morning service at the Cathedral and seeing  the long
> procession of British soldiers with their side-arms march in.  My dear
> mother and her cousins Virginia and Helen were confirmed at this time.
> When my father failed in his Toronto venture, it seems that there was a
> balance still due Cole Denison a prominent citizen who had assured my
> father that he would not trouble him about it.  Hearing however that our
> family were about to  leave the country and being erroneously informed
> that we had come into possession of considerable money, he determined to
> use summary means to enforce payment.  I shall never forget the scene when
> just rising from dinner we heard the doorbell ring.  The door was opened
> admitting  a bailiff, who stepping up to my father and putting his hand
> upon his shoulder informed him in the name of the Queen that he was
> arrested for debt and must go with him to the debtors prison.  If he had
> been taking my father to the gallows it could hardly have caused greater
> grief to my mother and myself.  Through the influence of Mr. Gurnett and
> the efforts of my mother a compromise was effected by which on the payment
> of 90 dollars my father was released.
> It was no longer possible to return so after counting  over their
> diminished friends, they resolved to settle for a while in New York state.
> We took  passage on  the steamer America for Lockport and then traveled by
> canal to Albany.  In  those days the railroad system being in its infancy,
> the bulk of the travel between Albany and Buffalo was by canal.  It was to
> me a delightful trip, everything seemed so new and strange  the locking of
> the boats,  the immense jams when sometimes the canal would be blocked
> formerly with boats, through an accident by one blocking the way,
> Arriving in Albany after a pleasant journey in the month of May we crossed
> on the Bath ferry on one of the old-fashioned house boats and walked up to
> Troy.  This we did for pleasure my mother being an excellent walker.  Mrs.
> Thorn, my great Aunt, received us with much kindness as did also her
> husband the Dr.  I found a very acceptable playmate in James Thorn the son
> two years my senior.   His elder brother Percy died several years before
> this while his mother was on a tour of England.   I have a vivid
> recollection of what seemed to me the wonderful American 4th of July with
> all its noise and excitement.  My father having served a situation as
> Superintendent of a section of a Vermont railroad then in the process of
> construction, we took passage again on a canal boat, pulling across the
> river and traveling through the northern canal to its northern isles on
> Lake Champlain at the city of Whitehall.  Here we took the steamer Saranac
> to Burlington, then a mere village, then by wagon through Virgennes to
> Beaman’s Hollow, on a branch of the Onion river.  Three miles from
> Middleboro.  We boarded at the farm house belonging to McLean.  A few
> weeks after our arrival a large rock fell upon my father’s hand through
> the carelessness of one of the workmen causing considerable injury and
> making it necessary to amputate the first finger of the right hand.
> He ?way with me on seven different occasions.  From Hill-top we removed to
> 39 South Ferry St.  Then to No. 32 across the way in the house where
> George was born.  It was during our residence here that I was confirmed by
> old Bishop Potter and fell  violently in love with Miss Libbie Courtney, a
> young school teacher, an affection which lasted with great loyalty for
> nearly four years.  I had no regular employment.  Sometimes I was employed
> in Mr. Dunlop’s office, at other times, he sent me on various business
> ventures to different parts of the country on behalf of my father and his
> employers.
> My ruling passion was for a military life, but my father was determined to
> make me a business man.  He poured ridicule upon these aspirations and
> considered that a classical or higher education unfitted a young man for a
> practical business life.  He finally established a small flour and grain
> business at 89 Green St. and placed me in charge.  This was in the latter
> part of the year 1860 and this time I had a great pleasure of seeing the
> young Prince of Wales accompanied by Gen. Winfield Scott, the Duke of
> Newcastle and other distinguished men.  At this same period also occurred
> the memorable canvass and election resulting in the elevation of Mr.
> Lincoln to the Presidency.  The following winter was truly a memorable
> one.  I took an active interest in political doings, both at home and
> abroad and there was certainly enough occurring at this time to merit my
> attention.  One after another the southern states seceded.  At last on the
> 13th day of April 1861 the first gun of the rebellion was fired and our
> sober  old city as well as the entire nation were thrilled by the
> intelligence that Fort Sumter was fired upon and the siege had begun.  The
> President’s proclamation calling out 75,000 volunteers was immediately
> issued and the whole nation was in a blaze of excitement.  The streets
> resounded to the tread of armed men and the music of drum and fife.
> Monster union meetings were held.  All public and many private buildings
> displayed the Union flag and an indescribable enthusiasm took possession
> of the public mind.  My military longings made me very uneasy and I longed
> to enlist and depart with the first contingent but felt that I could not
> do so at that time without leaving the new business enterprise of which I
> had charge, in the lurch to fail. I cherished the hope however that in
> some way I could be enabled to go without any very long delay.  I joined
> the Co. D 11th regiment of N.Y. State National Guards was in a short time
> made Sergeant and shortly after 2nd Lieutenant, becoming quite proficient
> in infantry drill and tactics.  The regiment was in constant expectation
> of being called upon to go to the front but the long-looked-for
> opportunity only arrived two years later and at a time when family matters
> made it impossible for me to accompany them.  They were ordered to the
> department of the Gulf and saw active service at Port Hudson and other
> points on the Mississippi river.  Battle and disease soon made sad havoc
> in the ranks of this fine Regiment.  My mother had always been a model of
> inspiring unselfish sacrifice and devotion to her family.
> Family cares, especially the charge of poor Sidney, who was not (1861) 12
> years old, finally broke down her astonishing vitality and energy and she
> began gradual to fail. To lighten her burdens but with the greatest
> reluctance Sidney was placed in the Asylum for Idiots, first outside the
> beautiful city of Syracuse.  This ought to have been done long before.  It
> might perhaps have prolonged her life and would certainly been a great
> benefit to him.  It was a lovely home.  A capable corps of teachers under
> the charge of Dr. Wilbur did everything possible, to insure their helpless
> charges, and to make them happy.
>  Notwithstanding this relief of her cares, she continued to fail slowly
> and surely.  At last she could no longer walk out for exercise but was
> taken by my father on frequent drives.  At last her strength was not equal
> even to this.  We removed in the spring of this year to No. 4 Beaver St.
> This was a very pleasant, central and convenient residence.  We attended
> St. Paul’s Church formerly on South Pearl St., but more recently removed
> to Lancaster St.  I was reckoned to be quite a steady man, ambitious to
> improve myself and beginning to be quite well known in the city.  The
> young men’s association library was my favorite place of rendezvous.  I
> also became a teacher in St. Paul’s School.  In February of the year 1863
> my father disposed of the business on Green St. which had not been very
> profitable and sent me to Syracuse to buy and ship grain south and east.
> I arrived in the Central city on the evening of the 27th of Feb. made my
> home at the Westcott House.  The eccentric but kind-hearted old gentleman,
> Mr. Cuddyback, being the landlord.  In a few days I had hired a store and
> commenced business.  Any residence was very delightful except  I was
> somewhat marred by an anxiety for my mother, but I had the great comfort
> of receiving a nice long letter from her once a week I became a regular
> attendant at St. James Church,  Rev. Joseph Taylor, rector.  I made many
> pleasant friends here and was treated with much kindness.  I also made the
> Young Men’s Association library my head-quarters during my leisure waking
> hours with the exception of my numerous pedestrian expeditions to
> different parts of lovely Canandaigua county.  The business was quite
> successful.
> I also had the pleasure of frequent visits to Jamesville six miles south
> of the city where Mr. and Mrs. Robert Dunlop entertained me very kindly.
> I became acquainted in my business dealings with Mr. William H. Barker who
> had a delightful little home some four miles from that upon what is called
> Canandaigua East Hall.  The pleasant summer weather coming on, I made an
> arrangement with him to board at his home and walked in and out every day.
> As the country was so picturesquely beautiful, this was a great pleasure.
> I shall never forget the lovely summer evening at the close of the first
> day of June when grip in hand I started for my new residence.  Mrs. Barker
> was an exceptionally nice woman and I became very much attached to both
> her and her husband.  In fact I was looked upon more as a brother than as
> a guest.  This father lived in a roomy old-fashioned farm house across the
> road.  Old Cicero Barker born among the granite hills of New Hampshire at
> the beginning of the century, was one of nature’s noblemen.  I have seldom
> seen his like.  A widowed daughter made her home with him, a Mrs. Pattison
> whose family consisted of a boy named William and two girls, Marie Louise
> and Lillie.  We were shown very much together and took part in a
> succession of picnics and other good times.  My intimacy with Louise
> finally ended in an engagement.  It was not because we were particularly
> suited to each other for we were not, but because we were romantic young
> people continually thrown in each other’s society.  It was the time of the
> year when the farmers, having disposed of all their surplus grain, were
> busily engaged in their farming duties so that I now had very little to
> do.  I promised myself a month’s vacation proposing to visit Oswego
> Toronto thence down the lake of St. Lawrence river to Montreal, then down
> Lake Champlain home.  I was thinking of this on Sunday.
> On the next day in the morning I received a letter in my father’s
> handwriting instead of my mother’s, telling me that Dr. Swinburn had
> pronounced my mother’s case almost hopeless.  He had come to the
> conclusion that her sickness was caused by an internal cancer.  The only
> hope lay in improving her general health was by increasing her vital
> strength to enable her to overcome the terrible disease.  In these days we
> should recognize such advice as absurd, but there has been a great advance
> in medical knowledge during the last thirty-five years.  My father told me
> that in obedience to the Dr’s advice he had concluded to give up his
> situation with Mr. Dunlop and take a  steamer for England with mother and
> our entire family immediately.
> He directed me to close up the Syracuse business and return home.  I
> immediately obeyed and reaching Albany found a host of kind friends doing
> what they could for my mother, and making hurried preparations for our
> speedy departure.  We left Albany on Sunday evening July 19th on the Troy
> night boat. Caroline Vanderbilt.  My mother was so feeble that she was
> unable to bear the motion of a carriage so we had to carry her on a litter
> made for the purpose from the house to the boat and then from the wharf on
> the North river in N.Y. city to the steam tender awaiting us at the wharf
> on the other side of the city on the East river.  The little steamer
> conveyed us rapidly up the East river through Hell-gate into Long Island
> sound where anchored off Flatbush the mammoth steamer, the Great Eastern,
> awaited us.  The stairs for passengers at the side of the vessel were let
> down and a half a dozen study sailors carried my mother on her portable
> bed on boards.  As they raised her up she caught sight to her great
> delight of the old meteor flag of England.  She said she longed for
> strength to give three hearty cheers at the sight of the well-loved
> ensign.  At noon the next day the anchor was weighed and a tug brought the
> leviathan’s bough into the right direction.  Then the ponderous engine
> began to move and we were about to say good-bye to America when we saw a
> boat with two sturdy men?, pulling desperately for the ship.  In the stern
> was a belated passenger with a lot of baggage.  The engine bell was rung
> to stop and reverse.  In a few minutes the boat reached the side of the
> vessel and to our infinite astonishment we recognized in the passenger our
> old and eccentric friend Thomas Mayes.
> The Great Eastern was a magnificent specimen of naval architecture, her
> model being probably equal to that of any of the present grey lvindor? but
> those were not the days of triple and quadruple engines so her ordinary
> running time from port to port was about twelve days.  The first five days
> of the passage were uneventful, the sea being comparatively calm.  Our
> great anxiety was in the endeavor to keep up my dear mother’s strength
> till she could find rest and quiet in the old English home.  She realized
> I know, although she was always calm and composed with her situation and
> no doubt thought of the terrible alternative of her burial at sea in case
> she failed to survive the passage.  She could no longer eat anything, but
> her strength was kept up entirely by essence of beef and stimulants.  She
> could take very little even of those.  Our hearts sank within us when we
> saw how much blood she lost daily and how little nourishment she was able
> to take.  Each day her face and hands seemed more bloodless, but her dark
> blue eyes were as clear and bright as ever.  On the sixth day we were
> overtaken by a severe gale which striking the vessel on her port side made
> her roll tremendously.  The great vessel being only partly evaded and
> being so high out of the water rolled in the trough of the sea with
> terrible violence.  This was what we had most dreaded and yet hoped to
> avoid because of all things my mother in her critical condition needed was
> perfect quiet.  The storm lasted three days.
> On the seventh day at noon my father, who was in my mother’s state room
> called out to me to hurry and get the doctor; my mother was worse.  As
> soon as I had told him I hurried back and found the stewardess applying a
> hot water bottle to my mother’s feet.  She had been seized with the rigor
> of death.  She could no longer speak or raise her hand.  I came in and
> knelt at her feet and prayed for her recovery.  I looked up and her loving
> eyes were fastened upon me.  Then she looked anxiously from me to the
> stateroom door and back again, stupefied by grief.  I failed to understand
> till too late her meaning.  She wanted to see the children once more.  She
> shook with a slight tremor and I thought I caught the exclamation of “Oh
> dear” and she was gone.  She had always been such a miracle of unselfish
> love and was so wonderfully capable that we were completely
> broken-hearted.  It seemed to me that the idea of mother being buried at
> sea would kill me and as I looked at the great white-crested waves,
> rolling after the ship for the wind had now changed, they seemed like
> hungry monsters pursuing the ship to seize my mother.  Then ensued a
> contest for about two hours between the Dr. and myself as to whether
> mother should be buried at sea.   The law demanded that burial should take
> place within twenty-four hours after death without the body was placed in
> a metallic casket.  The captain was wonderfully kind.  He had lately lost
> a wife and only child and so could sympathize with us.  He finally
> promised to carry my mother’s remains to Liverpool.  The ship’s carpenter
> made a coffin and my mother’s body was placed within, and the sailors
> served a tight canvas cover over it.  It was then coated with tar to
> exclude the air, then six fine sturdy English sailors carefully and
> reverently bore her to the deck and placed the coffin in one of the ship’s
> boats hanging over the side.  It was then protected from the elements by a
> piece of a sail.  Thus my mother’s body was carried to her old home in
> England but her spirit passed to the love eternal.
> We landed at Liverpool on Tuesday afternoon Aug. 2nd and took the train on
> the London and Northwestern railroad for London that evening.  My Uncle
> William and his wife met us at the nearby station where we left the
> children while my father and I continued on.  We arrived in the great
> metropolis early in the morning.  I remained in charge of the casket while
> my father procured the services of an undertaker, who came and carried my
> mother’s body to the establishment.  We then proceeded to my Aunt Kate’s
> residence No 14 Chatham Place, Hackney.  The next day the funeral took
> place from the undertakers.  She was buried in Tower Flander’s cemetery
> the services being held in the mortuary chapel adjoining.
> We immediately returned to Rugby.  My Uncle John also lived in this
> ancient city.  As I have before mentioned he was well-to-do living in a
> fine house with large grounds and had splendid stables filled with
> thoroughbred horses.  We visited here about two months, going thence to
> Aunt Kate’s, Hacking, in the north of London.  I remained there until the
> first of January when I entered into my Uncle Williams’ employment for a
> short time, he having removed from Rugby to the city.  I was greatly
> delighted with my English situations.  I formed a great attachment to my
> three surviving aunts.  Aunt Kate had an especially nice family of which
> Kate was the gem.  I came very near falling head over heels in love with
> her.
> I also visited Colchester on two different occasions and was delighted
> with Grandmother Dickson and my good great aunt Tower.  There was a very
> nice institution in Colchester for the care of idiots.  My dear brother
> Sidney was placed here.  My last visit to this cousin and ancient city was
> on the 7th of March where I saw those I have just mentioned, for the last
> time on earth.  Ten years later they had all passed away.  My admiration
> for England, English institutions and English life both urban and rural,
> was unbounded.
> My father and I left England with great regret, taking passage on the
> little Canadian steamer North America.  The cause of my father’s return
> was a very flattering business offer made to him by Mr. Dunlop.  After an
> exceedingly stormy trip we arrived at Portland, Maine on the last day of
> March, having left the beautiful springtime of England for windy Maine.
> The next day we left for Albany via the shore railroad to Boston.  On the
> 2nd of April I parted from my father ,returning to Syracuse where I
> engaged in his employment in the same kind of business that I formerly
> carried on there. A few weeks after I had an exceedingly severe attack of
> measles.  During the summer I boarded with Mr. Barker.
> The war was now being prosecuted with great vigor.  My old military
> enthusiasm revived and on the 7th day of Sept. I enlisted in the little
> village of Fayetteville  with Mr. Pattison, brother of Louise, in a new
> battalion formed to bring up the famous old fighting regiment, the 2nd of
> N.Y. Harris’ light cavalry.  A short time after we left for Elmira where
> we were uniformed and from thence sent by rail down through the famous
> Chisquehanna valley of Pennsylvania to Washington where we were questioned
> at Camp Honeman cavalry camp of instruction.  Receiving our horses and
> arms we rode leisurely through Maryland to Fredrickson and Harper’s Ferry,
> thence crossing the Potomac a day’s ride found us at Winchester, where we
> joined our regiment.  We were under the command of Gen. Carstan as our
> division General. Gen. Sheridan being in chief command.  Oct. 19th
> occurred the warmly contested battle of Golden Creek where Early’s army
> was almost annihilated.  I now had a very active life as we had a very
> active commander.  The cavalry force of an army during war is always kept
> on the go.  There were raids here and raids there with foraging
> expeditions in between.
> In the Spring, my faithful old horse was condemned by the inspector,
> consequently I was sent back with a number of sick and dismounted men to
> the dismounted camp of Maryland Heights opposite Harper’s Ferry.  I few
> weeks after and before I could procure a remount I was seized with a very
> severe attack of scarlet fever.  I was placed in the tent hospital under
> the very efficient and kind care of Sergeant Davis, a West Virginian.  The
> bedsteads were made of boughs of trees, but on account of the drafty
> condition of the place and the yet inclement season of the year, the
> patients had to lie in bed in their uniforms.  The place was infested with
> vermin and in a few days I was literally covered.  The suffering annoyance
> and mortification was extreme.  I was discharged at the end of about three
> weeks, but was not really well and did not fully recover for months
> afterwards.  The view from the camp was extensive and enchanting but
> otherwise very monotonous.
> During my sickness news was received of the surrender of Gen. Lee and the
> capture of Richmond.  A short time after we were horrified to hear of the
> assassination of the great and good Lincoln by John Wilkes Booth.  There
> were two military bands in the camp, and for several hours each day they
> alternately played dirges.  Fond as I am of music, the effect was very
> doleful.  About the beginning of May we were ordered to Point Tobacco
> something of forty miles south of Washington on the Potomac river.  We
> remained here until the time of the grand review at Washington to which
> place we were then ordered.  We next marched to Fairfax Seminary on the
> Virginia side of the river about six miles back of Alexandria.
> I was again taken violently ill, this time with chronic diarrhea and once
> more found myself an inmate of a tent hospital.  My regiment was now
> mustered out of the service.  I was too sick to return with them and was
> not mustered out until nearly a month later.  Will Pattison, my comrade,
> and the brother of Louise, kindly refused to return with the regiment and
> stayed with me for the time being.  I was a complete physical wreck,
> nerves completely shattered.  I finally reached my father’s home on the
> Troy road, near Albany, on the evening of the 19th of June at a time of
> the year when the whole country was most beautiful in its early summer
> splendor.  I was under medical treatment for several weeks before I began
> to recover and, after the failure of one experienced physician Dr. Boyd,
> was finally cured by my uncle Dr. Thorn.
> On my return I found the family very nicely situated.  They were living in
> the very pretty cottage, since known as the Heller Place.  The children
> had returned from England after a long tempestuous voyage, having to put
> back on three different occasions, owing to a stress of weather and
> break-downs.  I found my great  Katherine Gurnett otherwise Aunt Kate in
> charge of the household.  My father was in the milling and elevating
> business in Albany and was making money very rapidly.  After my recovery I
> was employed by my father in the elevators.
> The following winter he married Virginia Alfreda Gurnett.  She had a
> difficult position to fill as second wife and step-mother and was not at
> first appreciated as she so richly deserved.  Few could have filled this
> delicate position with more permanent success.  Early in the following
> spring I returned to Syracuse, taking up my old line of business which I
> followed with varying success for nearly a year.  During this time my
> engagement with Louise was broken off.  About this time I entered into the
> flour and feed business in Albany.  This was in the spring of 1867.
> In the fall of this year we had the great pleasure of a visit from one of
> the most precious members of the Gurnett family of Brooklyn town, Maria,
> the dearest of girls and the most faithful and unselfish of wives and
> mothers.  We were engaged to be married in the month of October which
> contract was happily carried out in Brooklyn on the 7th of Oct. 1868.
> During our engagement I visited in Brooklyn and Providence several times
> and became acquainted with my future wife’s family and friends.
> Conspicuous among the latter was the beautiful and fascinating Emma
> Brigbee.  Her early death closed too soon a short and enchanting career.
> All too soon for her affectionate husband and devotedly loving friends.
> Maria and I went to housekeeping at 225 State St. where the course of true
> love ran quite smoothly.  Two or three pleasant years passed swiftly by,
> and two years more at the house 109 Colonie St.  In the year 1869 my
> father succeeded Mr. A.A. Dunlop in his brewing business.  The elevating
> business had been extremely profitable and at first the new venture was
> also so that in 1872 he estimated himself to be worth over $40,000.  He
> had moved from the Heller cottage to the large old mansion next door, once
> owned and occupied by a rich but now decayed family.
> About this time he made his last visit to England during which trip he saw
> my Grandmother Dickson for the last time.  About this time the great horse
> plague called the Episodic broke out which caused my father’s business
> much trouble and considerable loss.  Trusted employees were either
> incapable or dishonest.  Apparently my father did not seem, although
> warned, to realize it.  Then followed in the year 1873 the terrible
> financial panic, known by that date.  He did not actually fail but yet was
> almost ruined.  He was able to save a small part of his impaired capital
> owing to the generosity of those having charge of the Dunlop estate.  Mr.
> Dunlop having died a year previously of cancer in the throat.  On the
> death of his father Mr. D. succeeded to a large future.  He was a kind,
> amiable and well-educated man of considerable ability.  He represented at
> one time the county of Albany in the House of Representatives.  He was a
> very good friend to our family and to myself and I hold his name in
> grateful remembrance.  He was a large stock-holder in several enterprises
> under the control of the late Cornelius Vanderbilt who was in intimate
> friend of his.  His wife was a bosom friend of my aunt Mrs. Thorn.  He had
> two children Alice and Jessie.  The former a beautiful child, died in
> infancy.  Jessie grew up to be a bright talented girl but survived her
> father only a few years.
> Father at different times engaged in the brewing business at Middletown,
> Conn, at two different places in Albany and lastly in Schenectady.  In
> each attempt he showed a cheerful persistence and energy that was
> wonderful nevertheless each effort resulted in failure.  George who is now
> grown up to be a young man stood by him faithfully but to no purpose.  My
> father’s health gradually failed under the years of strain and
> disappointment.  After a long continued suffering, Bright’s disease
> finally developed and after months of pain he finally passed away in the
> little home on Front St., Schenectady, which he owed to Mrs. Thorn’s
> generosity and George’s industry.  His death occurred in the month of Nov.
> 1887.  Aunt Albany died the year previous.
> On account of the distance between myself and the family home Mrs.
> Dickson, my step-mother, has since been the de-facto head of the family.
> She is at this date 74 years old, exceedingly well preserved and
> comparatively youthful considering her advanced age.  About two years
> after my father’s death the family home was removed to Rutherford, New
> Jersey, a pretty suburban town about a quarter of an hour by rail from New
> York City.  Sarah shortly afterwards married Mr. Robert Morrison.  George,
> still unmarried, is the male guardian of the home.  He is a young man of
> remarkable ability.  I regret however that up to this time he has shown
> but little evidence of any well-defined life plan or ambition.  It is true
> that circumstances have been much against him.  He is affectionate,
> industrious and capable and I long to see him come out of his shell and
> assume that position in the world that his abilities entitle him to fill.
> By an ill-assorted marriage my poor sister Bessie has sundered all family
> and social ties.  My aunt Mrs. Thorn manifested her great interest in my
> father’s family and sympathy with their impoverished condition by
> bequeathing to Thorn the bulk of her property so that since the year 1890
> they have been well provided for and all necessary wants amply provided
> for, Mr. and Mrs. Gurnett with their daughter Leannie, having disposed of
> their home in Brooklyn, Conn. came to live with Maria at the beginning of
> the year 1873.  To enable my father to remain in the old mansion after his
> reverses of fortune, we all clubbed together and made one large family in
> that roomy house. On the 10th of Jan. 1874 our dear little daughter Helen
> Virginia was born.  she was a pretty and apparently healthy child but
> unfortunately having contracted a cold the disorder terminated in
> erysipelas which soon ended her little life of only six weeks.  The sweet
> little thing suffered a great deal of pain and her passing away was so
> sorrowful and pathetic and she seemed to show so much intelligence as she
> was breathing her last that it made an indelible impression upon our
> memories.  The little body lies in the Albany Rural Cemetery, but we look
> forward to the meeting by and by of our dear one in Paradise.
> With the Gurnett family we moved in the following spring to 179 Clinton
> Ave. where we lived during the memorable celebration of the centennial of
> the American Independence.  We here formed many delightful
> acquaintanceships.  In fact we may say made friendships so true and
> lasting that they still endure.  This is specially true of Mr. and Mrs.
> Bircher and Mrs. Prentiss, having very pleasant and grateful recollections
> of them.  We next moved to 366 Cline Ave.
> Several events made our residence on this avenue memorable.  In the first
> place, by invitation of the rector, Rev. Samuel E. Smith, I engaged in
> Sunday School work.  A service in which after the passage of many years
> and after a varied experience culminated in my ordination to the ministry.
> Another event of importance was the marriage of Maria’s sister Leannie.
> who seemed as near and dear to me as my own sister, to Albert  Shier who
> during the long course of our acquaintance has become to me as a brother.
>     The third event and naturally one to which we attributed unusual
> importance was the birth on the 2nd day of March 1886 of my dear daughter
> Ruth.  Maria had the misfortune to lose her mother and both brothers
> during this period.  In the fall of 1882 we took up residence at Menarnd’s
> where Maria and Leannie had erected a plain but comfortable home.  Albert
> and I after some years of labor improved the grounds to such an extent
> that it really was a very attractive and pleasant residence.  Being the
> first part of our sojourn at Menarnds Mr. Shites assisted me in business
> and then he secured a position with Ames & Co.  My business which had been
> profitable and had largely increased in extent, became very much
> embarrassed partly through some dishonesty of some whom I employed and
> mostly through the competition of larger and richer firms, but very
> largely to my own incapacity as a business man.
> Finally on the 20th of Sept. 1888 the crash came and I failed.  Friends
> came to my rescue and we were enabled to start the business anew under
> Maria’s name a month later.  A few months after this news of the rapid
> development of the Puget sound country and the marvelous growth of the
> territory of Washington began to excite general interest in our
> neighborhood.  On the 22nd of Oct. 1889 Albert Slites and myself left for
> Seattle where we arrived a week later after a long but pleasant journey.
> The length of time in transit was caused by the roundabout route we took,
> passing through Denver where we stayed twenty four hours, visiting old
> time friends the Boltumed’s and Maria’s cousin Mrs. Nathan.  Maria Ruth,
> Leannie and Mr. Murnett arrived in Seattle six months later.  Maria having
> disposed of her business in the east.  During the next few years we
> engaged in various enterprises, none of which could be called successful,
> and most of them were unfortunate failures.
> We were charmed with the Queen city as the people of Seattle proudly call
> their beautiful and enterprising town.  Soon after my arrival a strange
> thing happened.  I had joined the new St. Mark’s Church then worshipping
> in the Young Naturalist Hall belonging to the University.  A mental
> aberration caused by family trouble induced the Rev. Mr. Leschott, then
> pastor, to suddenly leave for San Francisco.  The people gathered for the
> usual Sunday morning service but there was no minister.  Having heard that
> I had had some experience as a church worker I was immediately sent for
> and for a number of weeks I acted as lay reader.  After a temporary supply
> by two clergymen, the Rev. Messrs Vivian and Parker the Rev. Dale Garrett
> was instituted rector.  I had already secured the friendship of that good
> old man Bishop Paddock and after a few months Mr. Garrett began to take a
> warm interest in my affairs and advancement.  I was prepared for the
> ministry under his care and advice and was ordained deacon at St Luke’s
> Memorial Church, Laconia by Bishop Paddock in the presence of many
> clergymen.  The Bishop of Oregon and a large congregation on the 15th of
> March 1892.  My first charge was in Mt. Vernon my pastorate lasting almost
> a year and a half was deemed a success.  During that time a church was
> built and the membership increased from 12 to 34.  I enjoyed my residence
> in this place, but Ruth’s health was a constant source of anxiety.  In
> Sept 1893 I was transferred to the San Juan islands, having as my home a
> parsonage on Shaw Island, a pretty but rather lonely residence close by
> the beach and the waterside.  Here a row boat was our sole means of
> conveyance.  The exercise of rowing and the change of air, together with
> the very healthful location of the parsonage was extremely beneficial to
> my health and gave our little girl a new lease on life.
> During the first year Albert and Leannie lived with us.  In the fall of
> 1894 he had the good fortune to be elected Auditor of the County.  He left
> us on the 2nd day of January 1895 and took up his residence in Friday
> Harbor where he still resides holding the same office having been
> re-elected to a second term.  The latter part of July of this year we
> removed to the village of East Sound as being the most central location
> for a residence in my extended work.  My work here in this field was hard
> but pleasant.  The roads in the rainy season were extremely bad and rowing
> and sailing was frequently made difficult and sometimes dangerous by
> occasional storms  On the whole I enjoyed it very much.  The little church
> at East Sound is very generally admired and my four years ministrations in
> that field considered a very pleasant chapter in my recollections.  On the
> 22nd day of Sept. 1895 I was ordained Priest by Bishop Barker in the same
> church in which I had been ordained deacon.
> In the spring of 1896 Maria built a house on a very desirable site in the
> village of East Sound which though still incomplete made us a very
> comfortable and pleasant home.  Here we had quite a family, composed of
> Bennie, one of the best ponies in the world who has carried me
> uncomplainingly thousands of miles.  Birdie her very homely but useful
> companion on whom Ruth first learned to ride.  Then Bessie Jane, the cow,
> the Heifer Daisy Bell the dogs Calamity Jane and her son Dan, the pussy
> cat Corona and a fine lot of chickens whose names are too numerous to
> mention.  At present we look forward to this humble but pleasant home as
> the haven in which to anchor for the remnant of our lives after our
> usefulness has passed.
> In the summer of 1897 the Bishop appointed me in charge of the missions in
> Skagit Cor?, with head-quarters at Anacoites? where we took up our
> residence on the 1st of Oct.  My present charge is a very extensive one,
> the work previously having been done by three men.  Besides a number of
> the stations it includes my old field of work in Mt. Vernon.  The work
> seems to be progressing satisfactorily considering the unfavorable
> circumstances which include the rush of people to the Klondike and the
> poverty and discouragement resulting from the recent panic.  This family
> history is not brought down to the 22nd day of March 1898.  We are living
> in the small but comfortable cottage home recently occupied by the Rev.
> Mr. Badger.  One family is now four in number.  Mr. Gurnett now 92 years
> of age, blind and feeble, but yet possessed of good health, Maria the best
> of wives and most unselfish of women.  She is well preserved, though her
> hair is almost white, her face is as youthful and ruddy as a young girl
> and her health is still vigorous.  Ruth, like me, is slim but apparently
> healthy.  She has grown to be two inches taller than her mother and as she
> is only just 16 will doubtless grow taller.  Without really being what
> perhaps would be called pretty yet she looks to be what she really is, a
> nice intelligent and lady-like girl, worthy of the old Dickson stock.  She
> is in the highest grade of the public school and at the present time is
> immersed in the difficulties of algebra.  We are proud of her and thankful
> to our good Father for sparing her to us as that companion and comfort of
> what perhaps is already our declining years.  In regard to myself while I
> am 58 years old I am hardly thought to look it, although my face, which
> was never remarkable for its beauty is becoming quite wrinkled yet my hair
> is but little changed and I have considerable elasticity, strength and
> push left.  As I look back upon that part of this history covered by my
> own experience I have many errors, mistakes and sins to regret but
> nevertheless I feel that surrounded as I am by my dear ones and occupying
> so important and honored a position I can say in all thankfulness as I
> think of God’s wonderful mercies vouched to me “Let all that is within me
> bless His holy name.”