Recollections from a busy life, 1843-1911

Preface

To my children, who by long continued urging induced me to write these recollections, they are lovingly dedicated.

Had they not been written for them many things personal in their nature, and that sometimes seem like self-praise, would have been omitted.

I have included many events of rare interest to every one, which occurred within my personal observation, and which, as generations pass, will become more valuable as the testimony of an eye-witness.

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Washington, D. C, December 18th, 191 1.

CHAPTER I. My Ancestry

I am a descendant of Richard Kimball, who with his brother Henry sailed from Ipswich, Suffolk County, England, April 10th, 1634, on the ship Elizabeth, William Andrews, Master, and landed at Boston. From there they both went to and settled in Watertown, Mass. Richard being- a wheelwright, removed to Ipswich, Mass., in 1637, at the request of the inhabitants of that town. All the Kimballs in the United States are believed to be descendants of these two brothers.

Richard Kimball became one of the prominent citizens of Ipswich, being frequently mentioned in its records and dying there in 1675.

The earliest record of the name of Kimball in the town of Wells, Me., was that of Caleb Kimball, who on June 15th, 1704, married Susanna Cloyes. It is believed that he was a descendant of Richard Kimball of Ipswich, who had a large number of children and grandchildren, whereas his brother Henry had but one child, and for several generations there was but one child in each generation and none named Caleb, whereas Caleb was a favorite name in the Richard Kimball branch of the family.

Caleb had nine children. His second son, Richard, was baptized March 25, 1706-7, and his will probated June 13th, 1781. He was my ancestor. Richard was very prominent in the town and church, being frequently mentioned in the records of both. His grave is in the church yard connected with the First Church of Kennebunk, of which he was a deacon.

He had eight children. The seventh, named Israel, was born in Wells and baptized April 29th, 1750. He is also buried in the same church yard in Kennebunk. He had ten children; the third was named Wilbraham and was my grandfather. Wilbraham, was born September 18th, 1778, and married Deborah io RECOLLECTIONS FROM

Bourne December 6th, 1804. He was always called Major Kimball, as he was a Major in the State Militia under a commission from the Governor of Massachusetts, of which Maine was then a part. They had ten sons, of whom my father, Wilbraham, born March 24th, 1814, was the fifth. The ten sons were born and reared on a farm in Wells and received the common school education provided by schools of the town. Two, Ivory, after whom I was named, and Israel, worked their way through Bowdoin College, the first to become a minister, and the second a teacher, until 1862, when he was appointed to a position in the Internal Revenue Bureau of the Treasury Department in Washington, and filled a very responsible position in that bureau until his death, December 10th, 1890, at the age of 78 years.

Stephen and my father were farmers. John, Benjamin, Samuel and George were carpenters, but after removing to Fort Wayne in 1854 or '55, Samuel gave up his trade and devoted himself to teaching music. William was a tinner; Isaac gave up his trade as a ship-carpenter and was for many years an officer on the police force of South Boston.

As there were no daughters, grandmother took each boy into the kitchen to help her, until he was old enough to go out to work, when the next son was taken in his place. As a result of this training, each of them was a good cook, and in case of need could get up a meal equal to any his wife could prepare.

As far as I have been able to trace them, my ancestors were earnest, God-fearing, sober, industrious men, men of whose records I am proud. All were members of Evangelical Churches and active in church work except Uncle Isaac, who in the latter years of his life went off into spiritualism.

From my grandfather and grandmother down to the youngest of the Kimball descendants now living, all were musical. I can remember grandmother Kimball singing with mother and father at our home in Fort Wayne after she was seventy, and I wondered at her clear, strong voice for one of her age. Whenever and wherever the Kimballs met there was sure to be music. It is no wonder that my children are musical, for they inherit their love for music both from my father and my mother. Mother sang in church choirs and in church concerts all her life, and retained her clear alto voice up to the time of her death, at 72 years of age.

A BUSY LIFE n

During the years after the sons first left home there were several reunions at the old homestead, at which were gathered the sons, their wives and children. At the reunion in August, 1847, at the dinner table set in the orchard back of the house, Samuel, next to the youngest, who was one of the four referred to in the poem read by Israel, as unmarried, surprised them all by getting married then and there, and I suppose the ceremony was performed by his brother, the Rev. Ivory Kimball. After the ceremony, resolutions were unanimously passed that at each reunion thereafter one of the unmarried brothers should get married, commencing with the oldest until all were married, and that if they could not find partners to suit them, a committee of the married brothers should pick out wives for them. Whether this resolution had any effect I do not know, but in a letter Uncle Israel wrote to my father, April 16th, 1848, he said that at the reunion to be held the coming August at Woburn, Mass., William, the oldest unmarried brother, was to marry his beloved Mary.

At the reunion in August, 1847, Israel read the following poem :

Dear Parents, now we come to you,

As we ne'er came before.

You sent us forth the number ten.

We bring you sixteen more.

Our wives, your daughters, here you see

Just six ; there will be more.

We all are married and are sires

Except the youngest four.

Though scattered up and down the earth,

We're doing what we can To honor those who gave us birth,

And to aid our brother man.

The eldest is ordained to be

A minister of grace.

We trust he preaches faithfully

In his appointed place.

The second is a robust man,

Inured to care and toil.

He loves his farm as few e'er can,

And cultivates the soil.

The third in former days was thought

Expert to handle saws, But time has proved him better made

To guard the city's laws.

The fourth, a nondescript shall be.

We'll hasten to another. 'Tis harder to describe one's self

Than to describe a brother.

The fifth, poor soul, what can he do?

Oft as he courts the breezes, And spreads his sails for a distant port ;

The sixth, behold, an artist rare

In works of iron and tin.

In outward form and feature fair,

But better far within.

The seventh son, in rhyme can I,

A portrait true perfect.

In one short line I can but try,

An honest architect.

The eighth good soul, in youthful days, Had designed to be a preacher,

But Providence directs our ways.

He's a joiner and a teacher.

The ninth, an honest, open face,

Read by a single look.

In him deception finds no place.

No, not the smallest nook.

The tenth, and last, as you will see,

Not yet quite twenty-one; 'Tis hard to tell what he will be.

We hope a Washington.

The following poem, found amongst my father's papers was also written by Uncle Israel for the annual reunion at Kennebunk, June 18th, 1845. It was sung by the ten brothers at that reunion.

We meet this day, a happy band, In this, our ancient Fatherland.

And we will raise our voices high, That we yet live while others die.

Then shout aloud, swell the chorus, Heaven's banner still is o'er us.

We love the woods that gave us birth.

The dearest spot of all the earth.

And though our footsteps far may roam, We'll ne'er forget our woodland home.

Then shout aloud, etc.

We love our Parents, though they're old.

Their worth to us can ne'er be told ; For in the days of wayward youth They trained us to the paths of truth.

Then shout aloud, etc.

We love each other; yes, we do.

We love our wives and children, too.

Say, have we not a happy band?

United thus in heart and hand.

Then shout aloud, etc.

We love our country and her cause, Her honor, welfare and her laws ; And while the spark of life shall burn, The tyrant's sceptre we will spurn.

Then shout aloud, etc.

We love religion's glorious light, That star of hope to guide aright.

Oh, may it guide us when we die, To realms of bliss beyond the sky.

Then shout aloud, etc.

There, the Elysian field before us, With heaven's bright panoply all o'er us, We'll sing and shout and shout and sing.

And make the heavenly arches ring.

Then shout aloud, swell the chorus, Heaven's banner still is o'er us.

With such sons, living in a way to make their parents happy in their declining years, we can understand the joy these reunions brought to all.

In the winters of the early fifties, four of the brothers, Benjamin, John, Samuel and George, travelled through the New England States, giving concerts under the name of the Kimball Brothers. I have recently found the program of two of these concerts, one given at Waltham, Mass., January 17th, 1852 or '53, at which my cousin Laura, a daughter of Uncle Benjamin, a little girl about ten years of age, sang, and one at Portsmouth, N. H., March 9th, 1853, in which Uncle Israel took part. I insert the programs. Knowing the wonderful voices these brothers had, and having heard some of the pieces sung by them, I can understand how such music was appreciated by the hearers :

CONCERT!

THE KIMBALL BROTHERS

B. H. Kimball,

J. P. Kimball,

S. W. Kimball,

G. W. Kimball,

Respectfully Announce to the Citizens of

WALTHAM

That they will give

AN ENTERTAINMENT OF VOCAL MUSIC,

AT THE RUMFORD HALL,

Monday evening, Jan. 17th, when

they will introduce some of their

most popular, sentimental, and

Admittance, 12^ cents.

Doors open at 7 o'clock. Commences at 8 o'clock.

PROGRAMME.

Part First

Glee — "Will you come to my mountain home, love, Will you come to the hills with me?"

Song and Chorus — "O, give me a home by the sea."

Song— "The Old Bachelor's Hall."

The Wonneac Serenade — "O, Lilla, sleep no more, but listen to

my strain."

Song antf Chorus — Gold Digger, or the Enthusiastic Emigrant for California.

Quartette — "O, sing that gentle strain again." Song — The Main Truck, or Leap for Life —

"His father came on deck — he gasped

'O God, thy will be done ;' And suddenly his rifle grasped,

And aimed it at his Son."

Quartette — The Hungarian Horn.

"It shall mount and dash forward on

heaven's wild horse, Which was caught by a Franklin and

harnessed by Morse; The fire of God's wrath shall its nostrils

belch forth, Till it drives every tyrant and despot

from earth."

The Maiden — A Song describing the different changes of a maiden's life.

By Laura A. Kimball.

Part Second

Song and Chorus — Whoa! Whoa up! or The Good Old Plow.

Eva's Parting — Little Eva about to die, implores her father to give Uncle Tom his freedom.

Ossian's Serenade.

Quartette — The Bonny Blue Eyes.

The Sailor Boy's Last Dream.

"In slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay, His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind."

Song and Chorus — My Willie's on the dark blue sea.

The Pesky Sarpent — (A song composed in 1620, and sung in its original style.)

Song and Quartette — Where Shall the Soul Find Rest?

"Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows

round me play, Knowest thou some favored spot — some

island far away, Where we, poor wretched man, may find

a happier lot."

The program of the second concert, given at Portsmouth, N. H., March 9th, 1853, was virtually the same.

Wilbraham Kimball, Father Mrs. Wilbraham Kimball, Mother

I. E. Kimball, Brother

Jennie O Kimball, Sister

CHAPTER II. My Early Life

My father married Miss Ann L. Hatch, daughter of Edward Hatch of Wells, Maine, in June, 1842. I have the certificate of the Town Clerk, certifying to the due publications of the intentions of marriage required by the laws of Maine in the following form :

"I do hereby certify that the intentions of marriage between Mr. Wilbraham Kimball, Jr., of Jay, and Miss Ann L. Hatch, of Wells, have been published in this town, agreeably to the laws of this State.

Wells, June 4, 1842, Christopher Littlefield,

Town Clerk."

I was born May 5th, 1843, on a farm in Jay, Oxford County, State of Maine, now East Dixfield, Maine. My father, Wilbraham Kimball, and my grandfather, also named Wilbraham, had recently moved to that place from Wells, York County, Maine, but when they went there I have been unable to learn, neither do I know exactly when they left Jay, but from a letter written to my father by my grandfather July 4th, 1844, they were then living elsewhere, and, I believe, moved from Jay in the early spring of 1844. In 1845 father went to Fort Wayne, Indiana, and from letters written by my grandfather to him, my grandfather was then residing in Kennebunk, Maine.

Father was a great sufferer from asthma and the climate of Maine was very bad for him, so he determined to seek some place away from the sea for a home, hoping that his health would thereby be improved. As several whom he knew had settled at Fort Wayne, Indiana, and it was in the interior, he determined to try that climate. When my father left for the west my mother stopped with her father, Edward Hatch, at his home in the town of Wells. This house was still standing in July, 1910, when, with my son Harry, I went to see it.

I remember incidents which occurred during our residence there. One of them was the death of my great-grandfather.

David Hatch, April 22nd, 1845, when I was thirteen days less than two years old. The house in which he died is still standing and on July 7th, 1910, I visited it and the room on the first floor in which he died. I remember the situation of the room and of the bed, and of being lifted up so that he could kiss me good-bye. I also remember incidents connected with the visit of my cousin, Edward A. Hatch, to our grandfather's house while I was living there. Mother told of three things which happened. The entrance to the cellar was through the pantry, the door opening inward. I was very fond of getting my back against the door and making the latch rattle. I did this one day when the latch was not caught and pitched backwards headfirst to the bottom of the cellar and was picked up unconscious, but was not seriously hurt. I had a somewhat similar fall at Fort Wayne when three years old, in which I tumbled head first down cellar while running at the top of my speed. A second incident was that one day mother saw me standing perfectly still in the front yard looking down intently. On going out she found I was encircled by a large black snake which had charmed me and I was just stooping to pick it up. When it saw mother, it ran into the stone wall and I cried because she would not let me have him. I am not sure whether the third incident occurred in Jay or Wells, but think it was at the former. Mother had put a very hot iron back of the kitchen stove. I was in the next room at the time, and crept to the kitchen and reached back of the stove for one of my playthings, my left hand coming in contact with the hot iron was held there by my apron catching on something, until on pulling my hand away the flesh came off to the bone. I have borne the scar from this injury ever since.

Mother and I started for Fort Wayne in June, 1846, in company with Adam McCulloch, of Kennebunk, brother of Hugh McCulloch, who was then cashier of the Fort Wayne branch of the State Bank of Indiana and afterwards President of the Bank of the State of Indiana, First Comptroller of the Currency and twice Secretary of the United States Treasury. We went via New York, the Hudson River to Albany, thence by canal to Buffalo, thence by lake to Toledo, thence by canal to Fort Wayne. It was a long and difficult journey, occupying many days, but now the journey from Fort Wayne to Boston takes but twenty hours.

I have no recollections of this journey, but my memory recalls incidents occurring very soon after our arrival. Until father could secure a house for us, we boarded with George E. Little, brother-in-law of Mr. McCulloch and teller of the bank, in apartments over the bank and communicating with it. While there I had the run of the bank and remember sitting in the bank vault playing with the gold coins, under the supervision, of course, of the bank employees. I also remember the placing of the large bell in the steeple of the First Presbyterian Church, which was one block away. I do not know how long we remained at this house, but it was not for a very long period. Father soon rented a house on the Blufton road, owned by Mr. McCulloch.

I do not know how long we lived there, but it was at least a year, for I remember the fine crop of potatoes which father raised there. I remember this house well, although I was but three and a half years old when we moved into it. It was a story and a half frame with a hall running through the middle from front to back with rooms on each side. Mother's brother, Uncle Edward Hatch, spent the winter with us and had a very sick spell. The doctor, as was then the practice, bled him freely, and I was in the room and saw it done. The whole scene stamped itself upon my memory so that I have never forgotten it.

When we went to Fort Wayne the wild Indians of the Miami tribe lived there, but were moved west very soon thereafter. In coming into the town they passed our house and they impressed me very much. I remember seeing them on their way home nights, filled with fire water, just able to keep on their ponies, yelling and racing their horses. It was a great sight for me. The women rode astride like the men. There was always one Indian who kept perfectly sober to care for the others. A little beyond our house was a path made by the deer going to the river to drink ; beside it was an oak tree used by the Indians from which to shoot the deer. They had a seat fixed in its branches, which I have seen many times.

At Fort Wayne there had been the largest Indian village known to the whites. It was situated in the bottom lands of the Maumee River at the junction of the St. Joseph and St. Mary's rivers, which form the Maumee, and between said rivers. It was just below the junction and within the limits of the city that the Indians surprised Gen. Harmon and massacred his army, as they were crossing the ford of the Maumee; scarcely any escaped. The Indians were concealed in the thick growth along the banks of the river. I have a cane made out of the root of a sycamore tree which must have been growing at the time of the battle, cut in 1908 from the place where the Indians lay concealed at the time of the massacre. For many years plows would frequently turn up all sorts of weapons and Indian implements in the fields where the Indian village had been and where the battle was fought, and many have been found in the river where the attack was made.

After Harmon's defeat, Gen. Anthony Wayne, of Revolutionary fame, was sent with another army to subdue the Miami Indians, which he promptly proceeded to do, and then built a fort on the high bank at the junction of the rivers overlooking the Indian village on the other side, and a strong garrison was left there. The fort was named Fort Wayne. Indians made many attacks on it, but failed to take it. In the midst of the bottom lands stood an immense apple tree, which was an old tree when the first white man came to that region. Where it came from no one has ever determined, as it was evidently much older than the time of "Johnny Appleseed," of whom I shall speak later. At the time of one of the periodic attacks on the fort, it is said that an Indian was posted in that apple tree to spy on what was taking place in the fort. Many attempts were made to shoot him from the fort, but no rifle could be found which would carry a ball so great a distance. Finally an old hunter and trapper with his long barrelled gun came into the fort and asked permission to try his gun, and he brought the Indian down with the first shot, and the Indians did not use that tree again for a lookout. This tree and its history is described in an article on "the historical trees of America," printed in Harper's Magazine about i860. I have climbed into the branches of the tree. The tree finally died from old age.

I remember very well one of the log buildings which had been a part of the old fort. The place where it stood is now a park called Fort Park.

In the eighteenth century a man known as "Johnny Appleseed" travelled through all that Indian country, carrying a bag of appleseeds, and planting the seeds wherever he went. The Indians never molested him, as they believed him to be crazy. Many orchards sprang up as a result of his efforts. There was one of these orchards at Fort Wayne between the two rivers, which was always known as the "Indian Orchard." There were at least fifty, and perhaps one hundred, trees of natural fruit set out without any regularity and wherever he chose to plant an appleseed. I have often eaten apples from this orchard. Many of the old trees were still standing when I was there in 1908.

I will speak of one other incident when I was four years old which impressed me so much that I have never forgotten it. The Mexican War was in progress and I remember very distinctly hearing father and Mr. McMacken talking about a great battle which had just taken place. I remember the place in the road in front of the McCulloch house, where they stood. I do not know what battle it was. This house, with its large garden and orchard, the McMacken house across the road, the bridge over the creek just beyond, the soap factory some ways up the road and the graveyard between us and town are all clearly remembered. This is all changed now. The house is gone and the city occupies all that region. Captain Asa Fairfield lived about half a mile from us. He was an old sea captain who had retired and moved from Kennebunk to Fort Wayne and taken up one hundred and sixty acres of government land in the early days. His farm is now all in the city and/ closely built up. How well 1 remember Grandma Fairfield and her immense brick oven. What wonderful things came out of that oven, not the least of which were baked beans and brown bread. How many days have I spent there during apple picking and cider making time. I had a very happy boyhood. I did not have the luxuries of life, for my father was an invalid and able to do but little work, and many of what are now called necessities of life were lacking I have often wished that my boys and my grandchildren had the free, happy life that I had. Both of my parents were earnest Christians and my very earliest recollections are of going to church and Sunday school and my life was guarded by them and every influence brought to bear to train me for a Christian life.

Although we were poor and had none of the luxuries, we always had plenty to eat and to wear. Mother had learned the tailor's trade and had about all the work she could do, and father stitched boots for shoemakers, so the necessities of life were provided. Had they lived at the present time with its high prices it would have been different. Then beef was five or six cents a pound, butter eight to ten, eggs, six cents a dozen, and everything else in proportion.

We moved from the McCulloch house about September or October, 1847, to what was then known as the Methodist Female Seminary, and kept the boarding house at which the seminary girls boarded. I was still very young, but I remember well two incidents occurring there. One was when I had the measles, mother holding me up to the window so the seminary girls could see how I looked, all broken out. Grandfather Hatch and Grandmother Hatch had not had the measles in their younger days and were so afraid of it that they kept all their children from having it while at home. Mother caught it while at this boarding house and took me into her room so I could catch it from her. I remember the high fever I had and that they gave me elderberry wine to bring out the measles. I remember how good the wine tasted. The only other thing I remember while living there was being taken into the primary room and being seated in one of the little chairs. It was only for a few moments, for I was too young to go to school, as it was before the days of kindergartens, but I remember exactly how everything looked.

We moved from there to the Stapleford house, opposite the building known as Rockhill's Folly. Rockhill was one of the earlier settlers and had become wealthy from the increase in the value of his large holdings of real estate. He attempted to build a large hotel in the western part of the town where his property was situated, but had to stop work before it was finished, not only from lack of funds, but also because the situation was not suitable for a hotel. When we moved there it was an immense building under roof, but going to ruin for want of completion. It remained in this condition many years, but was finally completed and opened as a hotel by a man named Rumsey, but was never successful. It was afterwards turned into a hospital and is still used for that purpose.

My memory of living at this house is much more vivid than of living in the other, for we remained there until the spring of 1850. It was a one-story frame and attic with the long way parallel with the street, and a hall through the middle. We occupied the eastern half of the house. The next house to the west, which was still standing when I was there in 1908, was a large two story frame occupied by the Rev. Charles Beecher, brother to the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Charles Beecher was the pastor of the Second Presbyterian Church (now the Westminster), which we attended. Mr. Beecher was eccentric, as were all his brothers and sisters. He was tall and slender and walked with long strides,

Second Presbyterian Church, Fort Wayne, Indiana, where Ivory G. Kimball attended as a child and where he was converted and married without reference to the steps of any one walking with him. My mother was a member of his choir and frequently walked with him to choir meetings. The church was organized by the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher while he was preaching at Indianapolis. It was quite poor and had neither piano nor organ. Mr. Beecher was the leader of the choir and after giving out the hymn would leave the pulpit, and, standing in front of the choir, who were seated in the front pews, would lead them with his bass viol. He had considerable talent as a musician and was also a composer. One Sunday all the strings of his bass viol broke except one, but that made no difference to him, for he finished the hymn on the one string. The church was lighted by lamps filled, I presume, with whale oil, for it was before the days of kerosene. There were two pulpit lamps. Mr. Beecher had very long arms and when much in earnest would use them vigorously. I remember one Sabbath that he became very vigorous and, stretching out hii long arms, knocked both lamps to the floor, breaking them to pieces ; but it did not faze him, and he went on with his sermon as though nothing had happened. What a flood of recollections come over me in connection with this church as I write about it. My earliest recollections are of going there to Sunday school. How old I was when I began I do not know. (My first recollections are of going.) I must have been between four and seven years of age, for just after reaching my seventh year we moved to the country, too far off for me to walk the three miles to Sunday school, and we had no other means of getting there unless we secured a ride with neighbors, and few of them went to town to church. As soon as I was large enough to stand the walk I resumed my attendance there and I was a member of that Sunday school until I came to Washington in 1863. How well I remember my first teacher, Mrs. Antrup, and the advice she gave me when I was promoted to her husband's class. My other teachers were Uncle B. H. Kimball and Cyrus W. Allen. During all the time, so far as I recollect, Elder B. W. Oakley was Superintendent and Dr. Knapp the leader of the Bible Class.