Leonora Maria Hoyne, wife of Thomas Hoyne; memorial

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Leonora ,

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Desplaines Press
P. P. Ptttibone <&• Co.,
Chicago,

%eonora flfo, Ibo^ne,

A year or more before her death, at the urgent re-
quest of her children, Mrs. Hoyne undertook the task
of writing a sketch of her life. She had often told, in
her charming manner, so many interesting incidents of
her early life, and especially of her experiences as a
pioneer in Chicago, that her children were anxious that
these stories should be preserved, if possible, in her
own language.

At the time she consented to undertake this labor she
was apparently in good health. She was happy in her
family, surrounded by her children, busy with her
household cares, but interested in the world about her.
Life had not lost its brightness. Her mind was clear
and active, and her prospects of a happy old age seemed
to be good. With her cheerful disposition she looked
always upon the bright side of life. She found happi-
ness in her surroundings, and pleasure in contributing
to the comfort and happiness of others.

But alas for the uncertainty of life. Even her
strength tended to shorten her career; for, ever accus-

3

tomed to an active life, and undoubtedly relying too
much upon her powers of endurance, she overtaxed her
physical strength, and when her disease came her power
to resist the exhausting strain upon her system failed,
and she died after an illness of but a few weeks.

It has been a source of deep regret to her children
that they had not earlier urged upon her the prepara-
tion of this sketch, or been able in some way to push
it more rapidly to its conclusion, but it is, at least,
some consolation to them that the work was begun
and some progress made in it. From time to time, in
her leisure moments, which, in her busy life were few,
she noted some of the events of her earlier life.
Anticipating no necessity for haste, she made none,
and although they realize that what she has written
is incomplete, and but a taste of her interesting
experiences, her children feel that even this fragment,
coming from her hand, is a precious relic which
should be preserved. She had intended to rewrite,
correct and elaborate, but the opportunity for so doing
having been denied her, the outline, as it is, will ever
prove a source of pleasure to her children, her grand-
children and her old friends; and for them let it be
carefully kept.

Bs written bg flfcrs. Ibogne, tbts sfcetcb is as follows:

OMace of Bfrtb.

"I was born on the 24th day of January, 1825, on
my father's plantation, ' Garland Hill,' in Hanover
county, Virginia. The day was memorable for one of
the worst snow-storms ever known in that section of
the country. I was not aware of the fact at the time,
but have heard it frequently spoken of, and have not
liked the ' beautiful snow ' since.

" My father, John Taylor Temple, was of English
descent. He was the son of John Temple and grand-
son of Samuel Temple. My grandmother on my
father's side was Alice Taylor, and my great-grand-
mother was a Meaux. They were all of English
descent, and I am proud of my ancestors and that the
blue blood of the old English nobility runs through
my veins.

" My grandfather on my mother's side was Rev.
William Staughton. He was born in County War-
wickshire, England, January 4, 1770. He published
a volume of juvenile poems in his seventeenth year.

In 1788 he entered the Bristol Baptist Seminary to
study for the ministry. In 1793 he went to South
Carolina and preached at Georgetown for seventeen
months. In 1795 he removed to New York, and in
1797 took charge of an academy at Bordentown, N. J.,
and was ordained there. In 1805 he became pastor of
the First Baptist Church of Philadelphia, which, dur-
ing his pastorate, increased in membership so greatly
that the edifice was enlarged several times, and three
churches were formed from it. Dr. Staughton identi-
fied himself with the Third, the Sansom Street Church,
preaching every Sunday three or four times to audi-
ences of several thousand, arid also two or three times
during the week. I think the people of that day
were better Christians than we of the present time,
who think one sermon in the morning enough for us.
Perhaps we have not the amount of brains our ances-
tors possessed.

" In 1823 Dr. Staughton became president of Col-
umbia College, at Washington, D. C., which position
he resigned in 1827, in consequence of embarrass-
ments of the institution which his utmost efforts were
unable to remove. He returned to Philadelphia, and
shortly afterwards was chosen president of the Baptist
college and theological institute at Georgetown, Ky.
On his way to the latter place he stopped in Washing-

6

ton, and died there December 12, 1829. His last
words were, 'I shall be satisfied when I awake in thy
likeness.'

" I well remember the night my father was called
up to attend him. My poor mother could not go to
him, as one of my sisters was ill with the croup, and
she walked the floor until my father returned. Alas !
his spirit had taken its flight.

Cbilfcboofc.

" Recollections of my early childhood are rather
indistinct, but there are a few things that are clear.

"Ours was a typical southern home. The house,
a large two-story, was square, a wide hall running
through from front to rear on each floor, with rooms
on both sides. Down stairs were dining and smoking
rooms on one side; on the opposite, drawing-room,
sitting and other rooms, which I do not remember.
On the upper floor there were bed-chambers on both
sides of the hall. The greater part of our time was
spent in the hall, where comfortable chairs and lounges
invited one to be lazy and take the world comfortably,
and where one could always find a cool air. A broad
veranda on the upper and lower floors extended around
three sides of the house. I have a distinct recollec-
tion of the dining room, with the high-back chairs
and massive mahogany table. I used to watch the
butler wax and polish this table until it shown as
bright as a mirror. There was the side-board with a
glass of wine and a biscuit always ready for the hun-
gry or thirsty. My mother's room was large and airy.

9

I do not remember the furniture, excepting the bed-
stead— a beautiful carved mahogany — four posts, and
so high we were obliged to mount two carpeted steps,
that always stood at its side, to get upon it. The bed
was of feathers and was almost mountain high.

" The old-fashioned houses were heated by wood
fires in large fire-places — a great back-log always
burning — but they were not very warm, and at night
the beds were cold. The warming-pan was used to
warm our beds. It was a pan a little larger than a
good sized frying-pan, with a cover fitting closely over
the top. It was made of copper with a long handle
attached. The coals of fire were put into the pan, the
lid closed, and then the darkey maiden raised the bed-
clothes and slowly moved the pan up and down until
every part of the bed was warm.

"The servants' quarters were some distance from
the house. The kitchen was quite near, and I used to
run there and hide from my nurse. Aunt Esther, the
cook, would put me in a large hominy mortar and
throw something over it. When found, shouts of
laughter pealed forth from dear old aunty's lips, and
aunty and baby Nora had rare sport.

" Gracie, my nurse, had a fine voice, and often
sang to me a little ditty my grandfather Staughton
wrote. It was her favorite. It ran thus:

10

" « Pretty little Nora, fresh and fair,
Sky-blue eyes and curly hair,
Rosy cheeks and dimple chin;
Pretty little Nora's heart is bounding.'

" When mother went to church in the winter time
she carried a foot-stove in the carriage to keep her
warm. This was a box made of perforated tin, except
the bottom. It had a receptacle for live coals, and a
wire handle by which to carry it. In the summer
time, when the weather was pleasant, my parents staid
for the second service. When they did so, a large
hamper packed with edibles was strapped to the back
of the carriage, and after service the footman spread
the cloth on the grass under the trees and waited on
us. I used to think it a great treat when I could go
with my parents on these occasions.

"Two years after my birth, my sister, Virginia,
came to us. She was a welcome little visitor, and we
were glad to keep her, and loved her dearly.

" My father was fond of hunting. He had a fine
pack of hounds and several hunters. Hunting was
the favorite amusement.

11

" My father, being a slaveholder, decided to Bell the
old plantation, as he did not wish to bring up his
children in a slave state. The plantation was sold to
a relative. He freed some of his slaves and took four
to Washington with him. One of them, old Aunt
Oney, who used to be cook, was eighty years old, and
father took the best of care of her while she lived.
She was subject to the nightmare, and in the morning
when she came down to breakfast, and father would
say, ' Well, Aunt Oney, how are you this morning ? '
she would answer, 'Ob, Massa John, the old hag been
riding me all night.' She died peacefully and was
buried in Washington.

"We lived in Washington during Van Buren's ad-
ministration.

" My mother was a beautiful woman — tall and
stately, with a fine figure. She had the pure lily and
rose complexion of her ancestors, and one could almost
see the blood coursing through the veins, the tissue
was so delicate. Her eyes were a deep blue and her

13

hair dark brown. I remember her distinctly as she
was attired one evening for one of the President's
levees : Her robe was of rich silk, en-train, waist
decollette; on her head a turban of some light gauze
material and two beautiful ostrich plumes which fell
gracefully almost to her shoulders. Truly she was a
queen of beauty!

" The turbans worn in evening costumes were not
at all like those of the present day, but wonderful
creations of beauty, so light and airy that it seemed as
if a breath would blow them away. I think her jewels
were pearls."

14

Grip to tbe West

" My father left Washington in 1833 and came
west to Chicago. My mother and family visited my
aunt, Mrs. Wythe, in Philadelphia. While there, my
nurse, a mulatto girl, was stolen from us by abolition-
ists, and shut up. My mother was almost crazy about
the poor girl. She thought she had been murdered.
After several days had passed, one of the abolitionists
came around with her, and said she should not go as a
slave. After much fuss and feathers she was bound
to mother. The poor girl was sick afterwards. She
was afraid she was going to be taken away from mother,
of whom she was very fond.

" After our visit in Philadelphia we went to Cin-
cinnati to visit my mother's sister, Mrs. Lynd. Her
husband was Rev. Samuel Lynd, a Baptist minister,
who was then pastor of a large church in that city, and
beloved by his people.

" Mrs. Lynd was a saint upon earth, and has gone
home to reap her reward in the city of the blest.

" We left Cincinnati and the dear ones there and
went to Niles, Michigan, where my dear father met us.

15

He had made all arrangements for our journey to Chi-
cago. He had hired a man who owned a fine team of
horses and a new wagon to take us through to Chi-
cago, he riding in a buggy with a gentleman. Father
had stocked the wagon with boxes of provisions;
enough to last us through. The journey was unevent-
ful. We feared the Indians, but were fortunate
enough not to encounter them. We camped two nights,
the men sleeping on the ground before the camp-fire,
which they kept burning all night; mother, the chil-
dren and the nurse occuping the wagon. Poor
mother did not sleep but kept watch. They were fear-
ful nights for her. The wolves were howling around
us, and but for the big fire would have come nearer.
"The drive on the border of beautiful Lake Michigan
was delightful. The wheeling was heavy, and a good
part of the way we were riding in the water, as the wet
sand was not as heavy. We arrived at Mau's, a half-
breed, who had a log hut about where Calumet is. He
gave us something warm to eat and drink ; what it was
I do not know. After feeding the horses the driver
called: ' All ready,' and we embarked in our Hoosier
' schooner,' as the wagon was called, and were again on
our journey to the ' Garden City of the West.' And
it was truly a garden. Flowers of every description
were blooming on the beautiful prairies. But I digress

16

— we arrived in the evening and went to old Wattle's
Tavern, which was on the point where the North and
South branches diverge from the main river, but it
was not then as it is now. There was a small foot-
bridge to cross, and we were soon at the door. The
tavern was a long, two-story shanty, without plaster
or paint. The first floor had a long dining room, bar-
room and a kitchen. The upper floor was a long room
with rows of beds so close together that there was
barely room for a chair between. On entering that
delightful apartment, my father said quietly — for he
was always cool — ' I cannot put my family in such
quarters as these. Have you no place where we can be
alone?' After a long talk in which my father insisted
upon having a private room, the old man said : " My
family live in the log house at the end of the building,
and if you will pay me well you can have that.' Father
agreed to do so, and we were soon settled in the
old log hut, and glad to have a place to lay our
weary heads.

"The hut was like most of them. The logs were
chinked with mud, and one could see the daylight
through, or lie in bed and see the stars above twink-
ling in the sky.

" It was hard for my mother, who had lived in
luxury, to be brought to such accommodations, but

17

she was brave, and dear father's health was the first
consideration with her.

" The Indians were about us in numbers, and my
poor mother was in mortal fear of them, but never hes-
itated to do them a kindness when she could.

" Old Wattles had a well of fine water on his place,
which he would not allow anyone to draw from except
those in the tavern. He kept the pump locked. One
day my mother saw a beautiful squaw, as graceful as
& swan, coming towards the shanty. She carried a
small pail in her hand, and went to the Wattles to ask
for a little water for her husband who was ill with a
fever and could not drink the river water. In a few
minutes she came back, her pail still empty. Mother
called her in and by signs found out the trouble. She
was soon made happy, as mother filled her pail for her,
and daily she came to our hut for a drop of water,
which we always had ready for her. My mother
became very fond of her, and named her ' Onkenesta.'
One morning when she came mother washed the paint
from her face, arranged her hair a-la-Grecque,then gave
her a hand-mirror to see herself. She smiled but said
nothing. She was a beauty, and a model any artist
would have delighted to copy. On the morrow, when
she came again, the ugly Indian paint was on her face
and she was content.

18

" When the Indians pulled up their tent poles and
departed, Onkenesta disappeared, but mother did not
forget her. She often spoke of the beautiful dusky
woman.

" We did not remain long at the Wattles tavern.
Father chartered a vessel and sent to Green Bay for
lumber, and before the summer was over we had a
nice little home of our own. It was a story and a
half high and there were five rooms. The front room
on the first floor my father used for his office; the
second room we used for a dining room and also for
a sitting room ; the kitchen was back of that. There
were two bed-rooms up stairs.

" My father had drugs on shelves. I had forgot-
ten to say that he studied medicine in Philadelphia.
Trouble arose in the college there and the professors
advised him to go to Baltimore to pass his examina-
tions, and his diploma was given him by the college
there.

" The Indians annoyed father very much, insisting
that the drugs were whisky. One morning three
braves came in, asking for whisky. Father told
them he had none, and they still insisting, he quietly
took down the ammonia bottle and handed it to
one of them, who opened the bottle, smelt of it and
handed it to the next, and so on to the third. The

19

three then walked out without a word. That was
Indian stoicism.

"Our furniture came from Buffalo by boat. The
vessels arrived sometimes once a month, sometimes at
longer intervals. The goods were carried across the
bar and in barges up the river.

" The piano was a curiosity. One day while I was
practicing, a six-foot Indian walked in. I arose
from the stool, but in a moment was down again, as
he laid his hands upon my shoulders and sat me down
upon the stool. He motioned me to go on. I did so.
After playing until my fingers ached — the time seemed
ages long — he let me stop, and, going to my mother,
offered her cranberries without number if she would
sell me to him. He spoke a little English. He said
he heard a piano at the mission at the Sault St. Mary.
While he was talking our man-servant came in, took
him by the shoulders and pushed him out of doors.
Another time, while mother and I were sitting at the
dinner table alone, a towering shadow darkened the
door. We looked around and an Indian walked in,
came up to the table, took up the dish of meat and
walked out. He sat down on a log near the kitchen
door, ate the meat, brought the dish back and left as
quietly as he came.

" While we were living in the cottage the great

Indian war dance took place. Judge Caton gave a
graphic description of it in one of his interesting lec-
tures. Poor mother was almost crazed with fear. She
laid down on the bed and covered her head with a
pillow to shut out the fiendish yells of the red devils
who were dancing before our door, brandishing their
tomahawks and knives, firing pistols and making the
air ring with their horrid noise. There were nearly a
thousand warriors naked, excepting the breech-cloth
about their loins, and in all their war paint, which
made them still more hideous. I stood on a chair at
the window and peeped through the shutters to see the
fiends. And I can assure you they were more like an
army of devils than anything one can imagine. The
picture was indelibly fixed in my mind, and as I write
is vividly before me. I think if I were an artist I
could put it on canvas as it appeared to me on that day.
" This blood-curdling dance took place after one of
the government payments. The Indians were dissat-
isfied. They thought they had been cheated, which
was undoubtedly true, and as they danced before their
doors threatened to kill all the white inhabitants
unless they made them presents. My mother sent the
man out to buy paint and tobacco, which he distributed
among them, and they went on to the next house.
The women and children were sent to the fort for the
night. 21

" The fort at that time was a picket enclosure with
a block-house inside the enclosure, having apertures
for lookouts on three sides. It remained at the foot
of Michigan avenue and Water street until the widen-
ing of the river. A representation of it can be seen
at that corner, a tablet having been placed on the
building standing there. Major Wilcox and Captain
Baley were then in command. Dr. Maxwell, a genial
gentleman, was post surgeon. His daughter and I
were good friends, as were also the daughters of
Major Wilcox. I spent many pleasant hours during
my childhood in old Fort Dearborn. I now have the
dial-post which stood in the center of the parade
ground. My husband bought it at the time the fort
was torn down, and placed it in our yard, at our home
267 Michigan avenue, where it remained for many
years. A few years since, noticing that it was begin-
ning to show signs of decay from the effects of the
weather, I had it removed and placed as a pedestal in
the front hall of our home, where the precious relic
now stands, a constant reminder of the scenes of my
childhood.

" John C. Hogan, a trader, had for the time and
place, a large store near our home on Water street,
between what are now Franklin and Market streets.
In this store was the first ' Post Office,' Mr. Hogan

22

being the postmaster. It was not large nor elegant.
Its walls were of leather. It was an old boot-leg tacked
to one of the posts in the store. The mail was put
into this receptacle, and each person helped himself to
his own mail.

" Mr. P. F. W. Peck had a store on the corner of La
Salle and Water streets. He had a stock of goods of
all descriptions, but principally for the Indian trade,
as that paid best, the white inhabitants being so few in
number. I think in 1834 he gave up his store and
bought land, which in those days was cheap. His
judgment was good. He bought wisely and was able
to hold what he bought. A few years later he married
Mary K. Wythe, a niece of Dr. William Staughton and
cousin of my mother, Elizabeth A. Temple. She and
her mother, Mrs. Kezia Wythe, came West, I think
in 1835.

" In 1834 my father built a fine house on Lake
street near the corner of Franklin street, and we felt
like princes when we moved from the cottage to our
new home. This house was a frame of two stories and
an attic. There were four rooms and a hall on the
first floor, the hall running the length of the house to a
back porch, at the end of which a door opened into a
woodhouse, and the well was at the foot of the steps that
led down to the garden. The upper floor had four bed-

23

chambers, a hall and stairs leading to the attic, which
was a half story and was occupied by the servants as
sleeping rooms. The well was an expensive part of our
premises. My father took extra care when it was
bored, and the work was continued until the water
was as clear as crystal and as cold as ice. My brothers,
John H. Temple and Sfcaughton Temple and my sister,
Josephine Ellen, were born in that house. There my
father brought Allen B. Freeman and his wife when they
came to Chicago, and later on, Mr. Hinton, his wife,
six children and nurse. They were with us six weeks.
During that time- my brother Howard was born. My
mother used to say my father kept a Baptist hotel.

" The first school I attended was kept by Miss
Eliza Chappel in the summer of 1833 in a little log
house that had been used as a store by John Wright.
The front room was the school room. The back room
was Miss Chappel 's living room. She was a kind and
gentle teacher and we were very fond of her. She
taught in the little log house until January, 1834,
when she went to the Temple Building, which my
father erected, or largely paid for, and which stood on
his ground at the corner of Franklin and South Water
streets. It was a long two-story building. The upper
story was used as a school room, and the lower as
a church, where Baptists, Presbyterians and Metho-
dists worshiped the same God and lived in good fel-
lowship together until each denomination was able to
erect a church of its own. Miss Chappel resigned
the position in the autumn of 1834, returned to the
East and was married to the Rev. Jeremiah Porter in
June, 1835.

" Granville S. Sproat was the first public school
teacher. He was a Bostonian. The scholars were

25

fond of him and he was a child with us. Out of doors
he wore a long Boston wrapper, something like the
ulsters of the present day. At the recess hour in the win-
ter he used to go with us on the river, which was frozen
and as smooth as glass, to slide. There would be two
or three girls sitting on their feet hanging on to the
tails of his coat, he dragging us along amid shouts of
laughter. The poor man did not like the West. It
was too wild for him, and he returned shortly after
to the ' Hub.' The Inter Ocean of October 9th, 1892,
gives the names of the pupils at that time in the school
taught by Mr. Sproat and Miss Chappel. My name is
not there, but it should have been, as I was one of that
class. Celia Maxwell, Captain Baley's children, and
the Brooks children were all my friends, and we spent
many pleasant days together. I think Bessie Hamil-
ton was in our class also.

The second school was presided over by Miss Wil-
lard. It was a school for young ladies only. Among
the pupils were Lucy Smith, daughter of Theophilus
Smith ; Emily Handy, daughter of Major Handy ; Eliza
Wright, sister of John Wright. I have forgotten the
names of the other girls.

The third school was Isaac T. Hinton's, the second
Baptist minister, who came to Chicago. He taught in
the old shanty the Baptists built on La Salle street,

26

near the corner of Washington, where several years after
they erected a more commodious and elegant building.
The pupils were Elizabeth Butterfield, daughter of
Justin Butterfield, one of the most noted jurists of his
time, (he became a great friend of my father, who
admired him for his talent) ; Mary Jefferson, the Misses
Fowler, and Miss Steele, who is still living and has a
lovely home in Waukegan; [she married a gentleman
of the same name, but not related to her] ; Miss
Withers, from the southern part of the State, my sister
Virginia and myself. There were others, but I do not
remember their names.

" Mr. Hinton opened a boarding school to increase
his income, as his salary was small and his family
large. We went to the boarding school, as we were
always fond of Mr. Hinton. He was a fine teacher,
having been educated at Oxford, England, and a fine
classical scholar. He preached a series of sermons on
the Prophecies which were well attended.

"I was baptized in the month of February. The
day was cold. The ice in the lake was cut far enough
for the candidates to walk out in to the water, and we were
immersed. When we reached the shore our clothing
was frozen so hard we could not bend it. We were
wrapped in blankets and driven home. None of
the candidates, of whom there were five, took cold or

27

felt any bad effects from the exposure. We all felt that
we had followed our dear Saviour down into the water
and he would care for us.

" Mr. Hinton had a call to New Orleans in 1841,
and died while the yellow fever was raging there. His
family he sent away, but would not leave his flock, and
fell a martyr to the people he loved.

•flllinois anfc fBMcbtsan (TanaL

" On the ninth of January, 1836, an act was passed
for the construction of the Illinois and Michigan Canal.
There was great rejoicing. Judge Theophilus Smith
read the Declaration of Independence, and Dr. William
B. Egan delivered an address. He was a fine speaker,
eloquent, bright and sparkling, and always kept his
audience interested. He and my father were warm
friends.

"My father and Dr. Levi D. Boone took contracts
for construction on the canal. Together they built a
double house. Father's family had the west side and
Dr. Boone' s family the east. The location was at what
is now called Summit. The Greenwoods also built on
the opposite side of the road, and the ladies being con-
genial, they were not as lonely as they would other-
wise have been. The gentlemen were absent all day
at the diggings, which were about three miles away.
Later on, my father erected a larger house nearer the
works, as during the summer, when we girls were at
home, the first house was too small. It was not as
pleasant as the location at Summit, but it was better

29

for father, as he could spend more time at home. The
location was bad. The land was low prairie, and in
the spring the ground was covered with water. Father
bought us a canoe, and when we came home on Friday
afternoons we used to have great fun paddling over the
prairie. Mother was taken ill with the ague, and
father broke up housekeeping and came back to the
city. He took rooms at the United States Hotel, as our
house had been rented and the lease had not
expired.

"The canal contract was not a paying business and
father sublet it and was glad to get rid of it.

" Our favorite pastime while at the Summit was
horseback riding. The young people would go in par-
ties and have gay gallops over the prairies. In one
of our frolics I was mounted on a horse I had not rid-
den before. Our horses were in use, and the gentle-
man I was with had brought a fine animal for me.
One of the young ladies proposed a race, and everybody
was willing. We stood in a line, and when the word ' Go '
was given, we did go. My horse spurned the ground.
He fairly flew on the wings of the wind, and the other
horses were excited. Miss Greenwood fell into a
bush but was not hurt. I had no time to look back, as
I had all I could do to hold my horse. One by one the
party were left behind and my horse slackened his

30

pace. I turned and went back. My escort was
frightened. He expected to see me thrown, but I was
in for it, and did not fear, and carried off the ribbon.
When young I had no fear, and rode any kind of a
horse. I never was conquered by a horse but once,
and that brute was vicious. After I had mounted, he
tried to bite my foot. I rapped him on the nose with
the whip; then he tried to rub me off against the trees,
and his last performance was to sit down on his
haunches like a dog. I was afraid after that and dis-
mounted. I did not want to give in, but the gentle-
man with whom I was, said : ' I will not let you go ;
that brute will kill you.' My father had a fine span of
horses and a span of ponies. I preferred the carriage
horses. One of them was a fine saddle horse and I
spent many pleasant hours on his back. We under-
stood each other's moods and were the best of friends.
I felt very sad when he died.

" Captain Carver, father's partner in the canal con-
tract, was a very excitable man and could not control the
men, as he would get angry himself. My father
was always cool, and would do more by a look from his
searching eyes, decided manner and quiet tone of
voice than the captain's stormy scolding could accom-
plish. One day while we were at luncheon the captain
rushed into the dining room crying out: ' Get your gun,

31

Dr. Temple, and come over to the diggings, the men
are fighting like demons and I can do nothing with
them ! ' Father arose from the table, took his hat arid
quietly left the house, the captain following him
closely, but he did not take his gun. He walked into*
the midst of the fight, and, mounting an embankment,
said in a quiet tone of voice : ' Now, boys, what is all
this fuss about ? Drop those rocks and go to work ! Are
you men or demons ?' He stood looking at them sternly
but saying nothing more. One by one the men threw
down the stones and rocks in their hands, and went to
work. The men respected him and a word was sufficient.
" At another time the captain came in as if he bad
wings, calling to father in a frantic manner : ' Dr.
Temple, the shanty is on fire, and there is only one
board between it and a keg of powder in the closet!'
Father took a heavy overcoat from the hat-tree, walked
rapidly over to the shanty, opened the closet door,
wrapped the keg of powder in the coat and brought it
out in his arms as calmly as if it were a bunch of
roses, the men looking on in amazement."

# # # # #

Here abruptly ends what Mrs. Hoyne had herself
written. We cannot complete the story as she would
have told it, but can perhaps briefly relate the main
features of her subsequent career.

32

It must be remembered that when Mrs. Hoyne
arrived in Chicago she was but eight years old, yet
during that brief period she had passed from the
luxurious surroundings of an old plantation in the
slavery days of old Virginia, through the brilliant
light of Washington life, to the rude log hut in the
frontier settlement of Chicago. Is it strange that
these vivid scenes should have been indelibly stamped
upon her memory ?

Strange and almost incredible as are the incidents
related, this was but the beginning of a life of won-
derful experiences and marvelous changes, all of which
tended to develop and strengthen a character naturally
strong and self-reliant. How interesting would have
been her account of her marriage and the struggles of
her early married life! But since we are denied the
privilege of reading her own account, we can but
recall, from the memory of her friends, a brief recital
of some of the prominent points in her subsequent
journey.

As she has said, the canal contract was not a pay-
ing business. How could it have turned out otherwise ?
Dr. Temple was a gentleman of the old school, a man
of wealth, highly educated. Born and brought up in
the aristocratic atmosphere of old Virginia, he carried
through life the courteous manners and the dignified

33

bearing of an old-time gentleman. He was educated
as a physician, and practiced his profession through-
out the greater part of his life. He was a scientific
man, and had the temperament of a scholar. He was
a deeply religious man and an ardent Baptist. While
attending the medical college at Philadelphia he was
naturally brought into friendly relations with Rev.
Dr. Staughton, then one of the leading divines of the
Baptist Church, and this relationship naturally led to
his marriage. He was but nineteen years of age when
he married, and his wife was but sixteen.

Established and situated as he was, why did Dr.
Temple abandon an atmosphere which it would seem
must have been congenial to him, to seek the life of a
pioneer ? Mrs. Hoyne, in her sketch, makes one refer-
ence to his health, but does not fully explain that the
cause of his change of residence was failing health.
This was, in fact, the turning point. His lungs were
weak and he feared consumption. He felt that an
outdoor life would ward off the threatened disease,
and with this object sacrificed the comforts and pleas-
ures of civilized life for the trials and dangers of the
frontier.

Coming to Chicago, as must be supposed, with
some means, and being a young and active man, he
sought employment for his money as well as for his

34

mind, but not being trained in methods of business
nor experience in the work he undertook to accomp-
lish, he lost money instead of making it. Like many
others, he became largely interested in real estate.
Then came the panic of 1837, when the storm broke
and swept to destruction all business enterprises.
Chicago real estate suffered. It became worthless,
and if the holder had bought on time and was in debt,
bankruptcy stared him in the face. Dr. Temple was
caught in this storm and badly crippled by it. He
returned to the practice of his profession, was com-
pelled to curtail his expenses and struggle with a
limited income to support and educate a large and
growing family. In this struggle Leonora nobly bore
her part. She was the eldest child, and naturally it
fell to her to share the cares and burdens of the
family.

In 184-0, at the age of fifteen, Mrs. Hoyne married.
Her husband, Thomas Hoyne, came to Chicago in
1837, with a letter of introduction from Rev. Archibald
Maclay, a prominent minister of the Baptist Church
in New York. He was cordially received by Dr.
Temple's family, and appreciated the welcome to this
happy home in the wilderness.

Mr. Hoyne's life in Chicago is too well known to
need illustration here, except as it may be necessary

35

in connection with the subject of this sketch. He was
a poor lawyer, who had sought the "West to work out
his destiny. Happy day! when he first beheld his
future wife. He has often described in his animated
manner this occasion, when, as he knocked at the
Temple mansion, the door was opened by a fair-haired
girl, whose large blue eyes expressed surprise and
gentle inquiry as to the object of his mission. The
eyes evidently made a deep impression upon the home-
less youth, for he never forgot that first look, and from
that day seemed determined to make the possession of
those deep blue eyes his own.

But romance and poetry will not feed the hungry
nor clothe the naked, and, though love and poverty
often go together, love must be strong indeed or pov-
erty will drive it out. In this case love was strong
enough to fight the fight and drive poverty from the
door.

After the wedding a bridal tour was proper, even
iu Chicago, and Mr. and Mrs. Hoyne took one. A
horse and buggy afforded ample means of transporta-
tion and they drove out to Major Mulford's, on the
Ridge Road, about a half mile west of where Calvary
Cemetery now stands. This was a journey of about
nine miles, but as it was over a sandy road most of the
way, it was considered a long journey. Anna Mulford

(afterwards Mrs. Gibbs) bad been tlie only bridesmaid,
and it was, therefore, especially fitting that the new-
made husband and wife should be received at her
home. The welcome of Major Mulford and his lovable
wife can be imagined better than described by any one
who ever had the privilege of sharing their generous
old-fashioned hospitality.

Major Mulford was a well known figure to the old
settlers. Tall, stately and dressed in his old-fashioned
white stock, with his smooth-shaven face, he looked
like one of the .Revolutionary fathers. And dear old
Mrs. Mulford, with her white lace cap and her white lace
neckerchief — how the children of a later day did love
to visit her, and how well they remember the motherly
prodigality with which she supplied them with red-
raspberries and rich cream.

Major Mulford was a magistrate, a Justice of the
Peace, and held court in the old farm house, when
occasion required, which in that community was not
often. He must have presided with great dignity, and
his dignity must have carried terror to the hearts of
wrongdoers. In his old age the Major used to relate
with great pleasure the story of a famous trial which
took place before him, in which Mr. Hoyue appeared
for the prisoner. He always insisted that this was
Mr. Hoyne's first case, and he loved to describe, with

37

much detail, the appearance of the distinguished coun-
sel, the fiery eloquence of his address to the intelligent
jury who sat around him on the grass under forest
trees, and the utter indifference of the barefooted client
who sat apart upon a rail fence, whittling a stick. What
the result of this great trial was is involved in mystery;
for while the scene itself was picturesque, the verdict
of the jury and the decision of the court seem to have
faded out of the memory of the spectators.

After the wedding, and the famous wedding trip,
the newly married couple commenced their life in
earnest. Mr. Hoyne was young, active and earnest.
He had a proper appreciation of the duty of a
husband, and had made provision for his bride. They
commenced their housekeeping in a frame house on
Clark street, about half way between Lake and Ran-
dolph streets, near Ashland block, opposite the site of
the Sherman House. Mr. Hoyne occupied the lower
front room as his law office, the rest of the house being
used for the family. Rigid economy was necessary.
The income of Mr. Hoyne as city clerk was four hun-
dred dollars per annum, and this, with the addition of
the fees received in his practice, was the extent of his
resources; but this seems to have been sufficient to
supply all of the necessities of life. Luxuries were not
expected nor to be had.

38

Mr. Hoyne, with that ardent desire for improve-
ment which always possessed him, became a member
of a debating society, which, for want of more con-
venient quarters, was accustomed to meet weekly in
Mr. Hoyne's office. This office was heated by a wood
stove, and a smoke pipe passed through the room
immediately overhead, thereby, in accordance with the
economical ideas of our ancestors, utilizing the surplus
heat to temper the atmosphere of the chamber above.
To avoid the danger of fire from an over-heated stove,
the floor was protected by a tin drum, through which
the pipe passed from the lower to the upper floor.
This drum was made of two sheets of tin with an air
space between, and perforated at the upper and lower
ends to allow the circulation of air through the air
space. This was an old and common contrivance then,
and is probably in use now, though not often seen in
city houses. In addition to the advantage gained by
the transmission of heat to the upper room by means
of the stove-pipe, the ventilating holes also served to
carry to the room above the fumes of smoke and the
vitiated air of the office below, and also acted as a very
effective means of communicating the sound of voices
from one room to the other. It was also convenient, in
case of necessity, to enable the occupant of the upper
floor to view the premises below. By lying upon the

39

floor and applying the eyes to one of the holes, a view
could be obtained of anything in the direct line of
vision. This view was necessarily circumscribed and
limited to a small space, but it afforded a view of the
top of a head or a good-sized spot on the floor.

Mrs. Hoyne was not slow to discover the admirable
arrangement thus prepared for her entertainment. She
had, no doubt, often listened to the thunder of debate
below, and been lulled to sleep by the mellifluous voice
of some silver-tongued orator as it trickled through the
tin conveyer. She was young — very young — and
naturally filled with pride at the eloquence of her hus-
band. She may have been thirsting for knowledge,
and anxious to learn more of Roman history, or to be
instructed in the great questions of the day, which were
being so ably considered below. Be this as it may, she
could not help but hear, and not being a selfish woman,
she was willing that some of her dear friends should
hear also. Among the members of this society were
many of the brilliant young men of the city — some,
alas! still unmarried. Mrs. Hoyne, therefore invited
a few of her chosen friends — young ladies — to attend
one of these famous debates. With many injunctions
of secrecy and warnings, the little company above
assembled, soon after the dignified body below had
met.

40

The debate proceeded with spirit ; one after another
of the contending orators scattered eloquence about
him, and great streams of it issued through the tin
drum, to the great delight and entertainment of the
audience above. As the great question under consid-
eration was batted from side to side, the excitement
increased both above and below. The orators grew
warm. Defiance was hurled at the defier until, at last,
one of the speakers, overcome with enthusiasm, in a
climax burst through the chains of parliamentary pro-
priety and flooded the room with such a Niagara of
language that the tin drum rattled in its socket, and
the prudence of the young ladies was overcome. They
burst into a shout of applause and laughter.

The effect below was sad and startling. All further
debate ceased. The meeting quietly, and without com-
ment, adjourned. It never met again in the same place.

Mrs. Hoyne continued to occupy this house for
about two years. It was here her first child, Tem-
ple S. Hoyne, was born.

But now came a change to Galena. This city
seemed then in the ascendant. Chicago was in the
mud, literally and financially. Galena was busy and
prosperous. The lead mines had attracted to it capital
and people. Mr. Hoyne concluded to try his fortunes
there. Dr. Temple had already moved to that city.

41

The journey was not a pleasant one at that time.
There was no railroad, but a line of stage coaches
made the trip. In the spring the first four miles of
the journey was through mud and water — mostly water.
With a young baby in her arms, this must have been a
tiresome trip for the young mother, but it was safely
accomplished, and she never complained of its hard-
ships.

Life in Galena was uneventful. A mining com-
munity has in it many elements of a rough and danger-
ous character, but aside from this, Galena had among
its citizens many men and women of character and
refinement, and many of Chicago's prominent men sub-
sequently came from Galena.

After an experience of two years in Galena, Mr.
Hoyne returned with his family, now increased by the
addition of another son, Thomas M., born in Galena,
to Chicago. His experience there had been satisfac-
tory, but sufficient to convince him that Chicago had
the greater future.

The return trip was made in winter, and with two
children to care for , was full of trials and anxieties for
the mother. Arriving at the Rock river, it was found
that the swift running stream with the floating ice
prevented the usual crossing by ferry. The only means
by which a crossing could be made was a small, open

42

boat, large enough to hold but one person in addition
to the oarsman. Mrs. Hoyne was urged to cross with
her babe, leaving her eldest child to be brought over
afterwards, but she insisted that she would take both
with her, for she said it was better for all to go down
together if any must perish. So, sitting in the bottom
of the boat, with her baby in her arms and her two-
year-old child between her knees, the perilous trip was
made, the boatman going down stream as he crossed
and landing in safety far below the point of departure.
Mrs. Hoyne' s second home in Chicago was on
Michigan avenue, between Lake and Randolph streets,
on the lot now known as No. 91 Michigan avenue.
Mr. Hoyne had been able to purchase this lot and to
erect, or move upon it, a small two-story frame cottage
with a wing on the south side. This lot Mr. Hoyne
still owned at the time of his death, in 1883. This
was a very desirable residence neighborhood. Mr. J.
Y. Scammon lived upon the corner of Randolph and
Michigan avenue. Mr. S. B. Cobb occupied a palatial
residence with a wide piazza and Grecian columns done
in pine, on the corner of Lake street and. Michigan
avenue. Orrington Lunt was Mr. Hoyue's next door
neighbor on the south, and in the same block lived
Hiram Wheeler, Jerome Beech er and other well known
people whose names have been now almost forgotten.

Mr. Scamnion, then, as ever during his life, loved
flowers, and had what seemed in that day a magnificent
garden on the corner. It was well protected against
the inroads of the bad boys of the neighborhood by a
high board fence, through which, at regular intervals,
there had been mercifully cut a set of four or five
openings about an inch in width, like a series of grid-
irons, through which childish eyes might peer at the
beauty within, without touching it, and dream of the
beauties of Paradise.

In this cottage Mr. and Mrs. Hoyne lived many
years. Here their son James T., and Leonora Eliza-
beth were born. It was here they had their greatest
struggles in life, and gained the battle, for it was
during these years that Mr. Hoyne grew in reputation
as a lawyer and garnered the fruits of his toil.

During these years of toil Mrs. Hoyne was indeed
a helpmeet. By her sunny disposition she made his
home happy. By her cheerful words of encourage-
ment she many a time lifted him from his moods of
despondency. Nor was her help confined to words.
Her hands were always willing and able to work. By
her industry and economy she prevented waste and
extravagance in household affairs. She was never idle.
She had a genius for work and a talent for everything.
She was a splendid housekeeper, and when deprived

44

of competent help, which often happened, she was able
to help herself, whether it was to cook a dinner or milk
the cow. Her needle was ever busy. After the cares
of the day were over, and the children sound asleep,
she spent the evening in repairing the rents of the day
in the children's clothes, putting a patch upon the
boys' trousers or making a new suit for one of them.
Tailors and seamstresses were not as conveniently at
hand then as now. The duties of a wife covered a
broader field. She was expected to be able to make a
husband's shirt and knit his stockings. This Mrs.
Hoyne did for many years. She kept her children
neat and well clothed, and did it to a great extent by
her own labor, and even when the necessity for so much
toil had passed, she still loved to knit the boys' socks.
Many an evening, in the family circle, by the light of
the lamp, have they seen her fingers fly in and out
through the yarn, and wondered how she could knit BO
f;ist while at the same time she seemed deeply inter-
ested in the book that lay open in her lap.

There seemed to be nothing she could not do that
was necessary to do. With hammer and nails, saw or
knife, she was always ready for the emergency. There
was no end to her resources. If a stove-pipe, a door,
or any of the numerous inconvenient things about a
house which will get out of order, had gone awry, she

45

knew at once what the cause of the trouble was and
how it could be remedied, and she proceeded at once
to correct it without waiting for assistance. Mr.
Hoyne had no mechanical genius whatever, and was
helpless in any emergency that required it. He would
laughingly admit his ignorance and call upon "Nora"
to help him out of the difficulty. She was delighted
to show her skill in relieving him.

If her children wanted a new toy or any sort of
implement or construction she was the one called upon
to devise ways and means, whether it was to build a
hen-coop or manufacture drop-curtains and wardrobes
for a theatrical performance. She never declared
anything impossible.

In 1853 Mr. Hoyne built a new house at 267
Michigan avenue, and moved into it as soon as it was
completed. This was then considered a very tine
structure. It was a two-story frame, and by comparison
with the old building was enormous. Mrs. Hoyne at
first objected to going so far out of town, but soon
became reconciled to the location.

This house stood upon the north side of a lot
eighty feet in width by one hundred and eighty in
depth. The surroundings were somewhat rural, but
Mr. Hoyue was here able to gratify his desire for a
garden and some shrubbery. The kitchen garden

46

furnished a few vegetables in course of the season,
which were produced at an expense out of all propor-
tion to their pecuniary value, but the extreme satisfac
tion of now and then having the products of one's own
land upon the table more than compensates for the
expense of production.

There were some disadvantages in living so far out
of town. There were no street cars nor stage lines.
The only means of getting down town was the old-
fashioned one of walking, and it was about a mile to
Lake street. There was neither water nor gas in the
house. The Avater was furnished by a water-man, who
called three times a week and filled the family water-
barrel from his cart, a large barrel on two wheels. He
obtained his supply from the lake opposite by driving
into it and dipping up the water with a long-handled
dipper.

The city gas did not for a number of years extend
further south than Adams street, and an evening walk
from down town in a dark night was, after parting with
the last street lamp at Adams street, a gloomy and
unsatisfactory journey.

Neighbors were few and far between at this time.
Henry G. Hubbard lived on the corner of Hubbard
court in a little two-story brick house, and south of
him was his garden, extending from Michigan over

47

to W abash avenue. There were no other neighbors
on the same block. The place was as quiet and retired
as though it had been ten miles from any city. There
was no travel on the street, as the roadway was
unpaved and the sand six inches deep. But with all
its disadvantages this was a delightful spot for a
home. The broad expanse of Lake Michigan lay
open to view, unobstructed by railroad tracks. The
air was pure and free from smoke, and the quiet of
country life rested the weary brain and nerve. It was
in this house that Frank G., Eugenie and Gertrude
were born.

On this spot Mr. and Mrs. Hoyne passed the
remainder of their days, but not with the same peace-
ful surroundings. As the city grew its improvements
came. Neighbors increased, gas and water were put
in, the Illinois Central crept along the lake front.
Michigan avenue became the fashionable residence
street. The city extended until, from being on the
outskirts, the old home came to be in the midst of the
residence district of the South Side, and as the city
still pushed out and business followed on, it was at last
down town, so that before Mrs. Hoyne died she found
herself surrounded by business, and even seriously
considered the possibility of being compelled to aban-
don the old house. Fortunately she was not obliged
to do so. 48

Mr. and Mrs. Hoyne celebrated their silver wed-
ding in the year 1865. All of the old residents were
invited and a large number were present, among them
being:

Mr. and Mrs. Jerome Beecher, Mr. and Mrs. Silas
B. Cobb, Mr. and Mrs. Hiram Wheeler, Mr. and Mrs.
D. B. Shipman, Hon. Jno. Weutworth, Mr. and Mrs. H.
O. Stone, Mr. and Mrs. Kimbark, Mr. and Mrs. James
McKindley, Mr. and Mrs. Jno. B. Lyon, Mr. and Mrs.
Lymau Blair, Mr. arid Mrs. Marcus Stearns, Mr. and
Mrs. Silas Burton, Mr. and Mrs. P. F. W. Peck, Mr.
and Mrs. Surdam, Mr. and Mrs. Fred Wheeler, Mr.
and Mrs. E. M. Plielps. It is difficult thirty-odd years
later to recall the names of more than the neighbors.

At this silver wedding Hon. Jno. Wentworth called
the company to order and read from an old paper the
notice of the marriage in 1840.

In 1869 Mr. Hoyne moved the frame house to the
south side of his lot and erected in its place a large
three-story brick house. His family was now nearly
grown and he was able within the new house to furnish
ample room for those who still remained at home, and
also to enjoy the luxury of a large library room with a
well-filled library, a thing he had long looked forward
to. This spacious room was the feature of the house.
In fact, Mr. Hoyne's friends often thought that he

49

built the library and then the house around it, and he
was willing to admit that it was the room to which he
gave most thought and attention in his plan. It was
the family room. Here, before the cheerful grate fire
on a winter's evening, with their sons and daughters
around them, Mr. and Mrs. Hoyne enjoyed the com-
forts of life and the fruits of their labor. During this
happy period they seemed to appreciate the blessings
which had been showered upon them, and a spirit of
cheerful content seemed to reign over them, the
influence of which was felt by all who were admitted
to the sacred precincts.

Thus briefly have we extended the outlines of this
remarkable life. It is impossible to fill in the details,

but this sketch would fall far short of its purpose if it

•

failed to attempt some estimate of the character of
Mrs. Hoyne in addition to the glimpses of it afforded
by the few incidents related. Difficult as it is to do
justice to the subject, let us hope we may at least suc-
ceed in preserving more clearly for her children and
friends some of the features of that character which
made her so dear to them.

And first in order, it is proper to mention her
religion. She was a religious woman. Naturally she
became early in life strongly imbued with the Chris-
tian faith. Her father was a devout man ; her mother

50

a Christian woman. As she has said, she became a
member of the Baptist church while yet a child, and
she entered that church in a manner to impress upon
her youthful mind the awful solemnity of the vows she
was taking. She never in her life wavered in her
faith or faltered in her duty, although she had more
than her share of trials and bore many burdens which
her faith cast upon her. Her firmness upon this sub-
ject was like the spirit of the martyrs, and the stake
could not have forced her to retract. But yet with all
her decided convictions she was not intolerant. She
believed she was right, but she did not feel it her
duty to force the consciences of others. There was too
much love in her nature to permit sectarian prejudices
to reach the low levgl of hate. The influence of her
religion was shown all through her life. She loved
her church, and she showed her love by her work and
by the sacrifices she made for it. She was faithful in
her attendance, and while her children were young
insisted upon a strict observance of their religious
duties. In the earlier days of her married life she
was necessarily compelled to walk to church, but
this never deterred her, whether the weather was
fine or stormy. At one time she attended church on
the North Side and always went morning and evening,
walking both ways, a distance of nearly two miles.

51

Her hand was always ready to do any work to be done,
whether it was in sewing carpets for the church or
making quilts for the poor. When the old Chicago
University was young and poor — it was always poor,
however — she was one of that noble company of women
who undertook to furnish it, and they did it not merely
by begging the money for the purpose, but by actually
making the carpets for its floors, and such other fur-
nishings as woman's work could provide. Some of
the alumni of the old University will remember the
work of these women and the untiring energy they dis-
played in its prosecution.

When it is remembered that Mrs. Hoyne became a
wife at the age of fifteen, it is remarkable that she was
so well able to assume the cares and responsibilities of
a household. And yet she was to her husband alwnys
the true, loving, helping wife. She always retained
his love and respect and as he grew older he came to
rely more and more on her judgment. She made her
home bright and happy by her cheerful disposition;
she smoothed away the care from his brow, by remov-
ing obstacles which seemed insurmountable; she sur-
rounded herself and him with friends, and drew to her
social circle what was best and most elevating; she
sympathized with him in his defeats and rejoiced with
him in his triumphs; she let him see with her eyes, and

52

thus often cleared away the clouds which confounded
friend with enemy. He was highly sensitive, and thus
sometimes led to construe as an offense what was not so
intended. She was calm, self-possessed and able to
influence his better judgment, remove doubt and
restore amity. He often gave her credit for being a
better judge of human nature than he, and was ever
ready to listen to her opinion as to the motives of men,
Mr. Hoyne felt, and often expressed his feeling, that
his success in life was largely due to his wife.

As a mother, Mrs. Hoyne was all that woman could
be. Her life was a life of sacrifices for her children.
No self-denial, no toil or trouble was too much. Her
love was equal to any emergency. She clung to her
children with this same love and self-sacrifice to the
day of her death; to please this one, to remove any
little annoyance for that one, to smooth out any friction
or misunderstanding that might have arisen, was her
constant thought and care, and her chief desire was
that her children should continue to be her children
even after they had passed the period of childhood, and
though they had married and introduced new members
into the family circle, she yet sought to hold the
old ties firm as ever. To do this in any family
requires great tact and great love. That she
was able to accomplish it is sufficient evidence

58

of her wonderful power. She always kept her-
self in touch with her children. She was one of
them. She entered with enthusiasm into all their plans
for pleasure, and was active in devising amusements for
them. She enjoyed their entertainments as well as
they, and seemed as young and happy as any one of
them. It was for this reason that her children always
felt so attached to their home. It was the center of
their happiness, and during their youth, their friends
were always ready to attend any entertainment that
Mrs. Hoyne gave and were anxious to have her join
their youthful parties. She never frowned upon youth-
ful pleasure but encouraged every innocent amusement
which could make home pleasant and attractive.

How many of the old friends will remember the
dances in the carriage house back of the house, the
bare walls of which had been decorated by Mrs. Hoyne
with old shawls, blankets and other spare wearing
apparel, and where, in the cold winter nights, the
great coal stove was barely sufficient to take the chill
out of the frosty air, but it was warm enough for the
youthful dancers, and to the music of three pieces, they
had more real pleasure than the gorgeous ball-room
and a grand orchestra could afford. In all this Mrs.
Hoyne showed her worldly wisdom; for she recognized
the fact that the young must be entertained, and

54

that if they do not find their pleasures at home they
will seek them elsewhere. Thus did Mrs. Hoyne
retain her place as the central figure in the family
circle, and up to the day of her death she was not for-
gotten in any family party. She was always entertain-
ing and agreeable, and by her presence added to the
pleasure of any assembly.

Mrs. Hoyne was one of the most industrious and
capable of women. Her fingers were ever busy, and
she could accomplish wonders with her needle. When
it was necessary, she disposed of that drudgery — the
family mending — with regularity and without worry,
and besides, had time for fancy work, which she always
had on hand. She ever had time to attempt other
tasks that to most women seemed appalling. She re-
ceived a prize from the Mechanics' Fair held in 1856
for the best knit bed-quilt, and in later years made
several silk bed-quilts for her children.

In household affairs she was indefatigable. She
knew every detail of her housework. She had practi-
cal experience of it all, from the kitchen up. She
could cook, if need be, anything required, and her
"cookies," the boys thought, were the best ever made.

But with all these accomplishments of the home
which her children so love to remember and talk of,
she had still time for thought and work in the broader

55

field of life. Her heart was full of charity for suffer-
ing humanity, and where her heart went her willing
hand followed. Blessed be her memory! a memory
so fragrant with the simplicity of her character, the
sweetness of her manner, the gentle touch of her lov-
ing hand, that time can never efface it from the hearts
of her children and friends.

In the year 1S58 she wrote for a literary society
(The Weekly Visitor Association, of which her chil-
dren were members,) a novel entitled "The Old
Plantation, or Life in Virginia," under the nom de
plume Nellie Bly. This novel the following year was
printed by her son Temple, and bound by Culver,
Page & Hoyne, with which firm Frank commenced his
business career in 1872.

Her love for Chicago, even up to the time of her
death, was almost as great as her love for her family.
She was never happy when away from her home.

A large share of her love was also given to her
church, of which she was a constant attendant, and for
many years, when time permitted, she was a member
of the church choir.

Mrs. Hoyne died November 15th, 1893, in the sixty-
eighth year of her life. She had been. ill for about
two weeks, suffering from an attack of bronchitis, but
no serious consequence was at first apprehended. Her

56

throat had been sensitive for years, and every fall and
winter she had suffered from similar attacks, which
readily yielded to treatment. She had been so well
and seemed so strong that it did not seem possible
that she should not be able to overcome this attack.
During the summer she had been a frequent visitor to
the World's Fair, and had shown the same lively inter-
est in this wonderful exhibit that she always took in all
that concerned Chicago. She had been able to endure
the fatiguing walks about the grounds, spending many
a long day there. She attended on October 9th, "Chi-
cago Day," and mingled with the enormous crowd that
filled the grounds and buildings on that occasion. She
went frequently in the evening, and later in October,
when the weather had become cooler, she spent a day
there and remained until evening. While she did not
realize it, she may, perhaps, by these frequent visits
have overtaxed her strength, and during her last visit
she caught cold, which resulted in her illness. She
was exhausted by a cough which prevented her sleep-
ing at night, and gradually lost strength, until it be-
came apparent she could not recover. She seemed to
realize this as soon as anyone, and finally inquired of
her son, Dr. Hoyne, whether she was going to die.
And when he, as gently as was possible, expressed to
her the hope that she might yet rally, but at the same

57

time the uncertainty of life, she understood him. She
showed no fear or uneasiness. She met death as she
had met all the trials and responsibilities of life —
calmly, courageously. Some things she wished to do
before she died, and she set about them at once. She
called for her son Thomas, and dictated to him her
will, requesting him to prepare it in legal form and
bring it to her for execution as soon as completed. At
one o'clock she called for her lunch, and seemed deter-
mined to keep her strength until her work was finished.
After she had eaten, she was able to sit up in her bed.
The paper was read to her and approved by her. She
signed it with a firm hand, and when it was finished
her mind seemed relieved from all care. Within an
hour after this she died, calmly and peacefully, sur-
rounded by her children, and without pain or suffering.
And so ended this beautiful, useful, faithful life.
The end was as she would have had it. It came to her
in the possession of all her faculties ; in her old home
surrounded by those most dear to her, and with suffi-
cient warning of its approach to enable her to prepare
to meet it, yet without a long and painful illness. Her
strength had been such that her happy activity had
continued almost to the very end. She had lived to
see her children married and settled in life, all living
happily about her, with one exception. Her daughter

58

Eugenie died in 1889, and her death had been a great
sorrow, but her infant son Eugene had been the con-
stant care of Mrs. Hoyne since her daughter's death,
and the sorrow for the lost one found relief in the love
she poured out upon the little boy.

Few lives exhibit so many marked contrasts, and it
is given to few men or women to witness in a lifetime
so marvelous a transformation of a wilderness, inhab-
ited by savages, to a metropolitan city, which, in the
year of her death, became the center of attraction of
the civilized world, and through all the rapid changes
which wrought this marvelous result, she lived a con-
tented life, satisfied with her lot in life and not unset-
tled by her prosperity. Faithful in the discharge of
every duty, loved by all who knew her, and loving all
about her. She might well love life, for during it
she had received the rewards of her faithfulness. She
did love life; she enjoyed it to its fullest extent. If
she could have chosen she would undoubtedly have
preferred to continue yet longer in the world which
surrounded her, but since this blessing could not, in
the Divine wisdom, be longer continued to her chil-
dren, they can rest content in the happy reflection that
she was reconciled to the will of God, and went from
earth to the greater rewards which her well-spent life
had earned for her.

59

. ant) flDrs, 1bo\me'0 Children*

Temple Staughton Hoyne was born in the Glark
street home; married to Francis H. Vedder, of New
York State, Oct. 17, 1866. They have one daughter,
Maud, married to Charles Clinton Buell, Oct. 23, 1893.
Mr. and Mrs. Buell have one son,

Temple Hoyne Buell, born Sept. 9, 1895.

61

Thomas Maclay Hoyne was born in Galena, 111.,
and married Jeanie Thomas Maclay, of New York,
Jan. *25, 1871. Mr. and Mrs. Hoyne' s children are:

Maclay Hoyne,
Thomas T. Hoyne,
Archibald L. Hoyne,
Susan D. Hoyne,
Eugene Hoyne,
Mary Lawrence Hoyne.

James Taylor Hoyne was born in Chicago in the
house which stood on the site now known as No. 91
Michigan avenue. He was educated in the public schools
of Chicago. Preferring mercantile life to a profession,
he, while yet under age, entered the wholesale grocery
house of Pollard, Doane & Co., and continued in their
employ for five years.

Upon the organization of the German Savings
Bank of Chicago he entered that institution as a teller,
and was subsequently promoted to the office of assistant
cashier which latter position he continued to occupy
until the failure of the bank in 1877. He assisted in
winding up the affairs of the bank, and then engaged
in the real estate business in which he continued until
his death.

In 1874 he married Emma J. Bangs a daughter of
the late Nathan Bangs, Jr., of New York. James T.
Hoyne died May 18, 1895.

63

Lizzie Hoyne Williams was born at No. 91 Michi-
gan avenue; married April 30, 1879, to Clifford Will-
iams, of Chicago. Mr. and Mrs. Williams have had
three children:

Clifford Hoyne Williams,

Ernest Williams, (died in infancy)

Temple Williams.

64

Mary Ellen Hoyne was born at No. 267 Michigan
avenue in 1853 and died in a few days.

65

Frank Gilbert Hoyne was born at No. 267 Michi-
gan avenue; married Florence A. Ashton, of Chicago,
April 24, 1884. They have two children :

Leonora Hoyne,
Helen Hoyne.

66

Eugenie A. de Bronkart, the third daughter of Mrs.
Hoyne, was born in Chicago at 267 Michigan avenue.
She attended Dearborn Seminary and graduated from
that institution.

In 1887 she was married to Gustave C. de Bronkart
of Denver, a prominent real estate dealer in that city.
She resided in that city and her married life though
short was one of remarkable happiness. On the 27th
day of December, 1889, her son Eugene was born, and
on the 7th day of January, 1889, she died leaving her
bereaved husband and infant child.

Mr. de Bronkart was taken ill in the summer of 1893
and his affection proved to be chronic Bright's disease.
Mrs. Hoyne during her lifetime and especially during
her last illness was much distressed by Mr. de Bronk-
art's illness, and upon her death, he in turn seemed
to be greatly affected. In the summer of 1894 he
came to Chicago and at the residence of Mr. James T.
Hoyne, received the careful nursing of Mrs. Hoyne.
He continued to suffer until September, when he died.
Eugene, after the death of his mother, had been in care
of his grandmother, who found relief for her sorrow
at the loss of her daughter in the love which she
bestowed upon little Eugene. Upon the death of Mrs.
Hoyne, Eugene was sent to comfort his father, who
seemed to find great pleasure in his company. Upon

67

the death of his father, Eugene went to reside with
James T. Hoyne and his wife. Notwithstanding the
repeated afflictions of the little fellow, nature's remedy
has kept him still bright and happy, though his sur-
roundings have perhaps made him more thoughtful
than usual for one of his age.

68

Effie Gertrude Wells, the third daughter, was born
at No. 2(57 Michigan avenue; married Samuel E.
Wells, of Chicago, March 20, 1888. They have one
son:

Hoyne Wells.

69

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