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Full text of "Lewis congress, 1694-1894 : celebration of the two hundredth anniversary of their residence in Virginia"

■y.H- 



HAROLD B. LEE LIBRARY 

8HIQHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY 

PROVO. UTAH 



U()k 




Lewis co;^Ci\Bs 






BATE MtCROflLMEO 

IT- Mom 1^^^ 

WKWECT and G. S. 

ROLL # CALL # 



' 1694. Lewis Co/ng-rbss. 1894. 



CELEBRAT^ION 



-OP THE- 



Tu;o Hui7dredtl? fl'?'?'^^''S3ry 



OF THEIR RESIDENCE IN VIRGINIA 



-BY THE- 



LEWIS FAMILY, 



BEL-AIR, SPOTSYLVANIA COUNTY, 



SEPTEMBER 4TH, 1894. 



FRANKFORT, KY : 

GEO. A. LEWIS, Pf^lNTER. 

1894. 



HAROLD a LEE LIBRAfiT 

8R1QHAM Y0UN6 UNIVCRUtt 

PROYO. UTAH 



CONTENTS. 



Introductory 5-19 

Address of Welcome James B. Green 20-21 

Response John A. Lewis 22-23 

A Voice from the Old Home 24-28 

Dr. Richmond Lewis, of Brecknock 27-34 

Rev. Cadwallader Lewis John A. Lewis 35-53 

George Wythe Lewis . . . George A. Lewis 54-59 

Dr. and Mrs. A. A. Patteson Walter L. Patteson 60-85 

Mrs. Elizabeth Travers Lewis and the Brecknock 

Family 86-93 

James M. Scott and Mrs. Sarah Travers Scott .... 94-115 

Multum in Parvo of David Bullock Harris . 116 117 

John Lewis, of Llangollen . Walter L. Patteson 118-122 

Obituary of Mrs. Ann Terrell Lewis . John Lewis. . . 122 

Memorial Tablet of George Wythe ... 123 

List of Delegates to Lewis Congress . . . . 124-126 

List of Relics 127-129 

. . APPENDIX. . . . 

James M. Holladay 1-2 

Misses Elizabeth Travers Lewis / ^ 

and Mary Overton Lewis f George A. Lewis 3^6 




MISS NANNIE E. SCOTT, 
Originator of the Lewis Congress. 



/f^reface. 



IN presenting this little souvenir to my kindred— the descendants 
of Col. Zaehary Lewis, of Bel-air-^it is but just that I should say 
to those who were so fortunate as to be present at the meeting of 
the Lewis Congress on the 4th of September, 1894, as well as to those 
who were so unfortunate as nob to attend, that as the exquisite pleas- 
ure of that meeting was largely due to our fair cousin, Miss Nannie 
E. Scott-she having originated the idea of the Congress and made 
possible the gathering of the clan by inviting us to her home— so we 
are indebted to her for whatever of merit there may be found in this 
little book. The introduction and all the memoirs not ascribed to 
other authorship are from her graceful pen, and most of the illustra- 
tions were reproduced from pencil or pen and ink sketches made by 
her. Without her kind invitation there would have been no Con- 
gress, and without her painstaking and untiring assistance there 
would have been no souvenir of that meeting. 

For the cuts used in illustrating the work I am indebted to that 
prince of good fellov;s, Walter Lewis Patteson, of Springfield, Illi- 
nois. The printer did the rest. 

The Publisher. 



Introductory. 



6® 6® ®9 ®9 

^1 HE following sketches were written for a reunion of 
I the Lewis family at Bel-air, Virginia, wliich took place 
on September 4, 1894, in commemoration of their residence 
of two hundred years in the State, from 1G94, the date of 
•one of the grants of land recorded in the land-books of 
Virginia to their first ancestor in this country, Zachary 
Lewis, of Brecknock, Wales. 

Tradition points to a Huguenot origin of this family; 
and it is thought their sojourn in Wales may have been 
only a short one. There seems some probability of this, 
as well as of the kinship between the three Lewis families 
of Virginia — the Augusta Lewises, the Gloucester Lewises, 
and the King and Queen Lewises — those of Bel-air. 

Zachary Lewis, of the land grant of 1694, left two sons, 
Zachary and John — the first of whom was educated as a 
lawyer, and came to the upper counties under circum- 
stances which at once stamp his character as chivalrous. 
He gave up, at his father's death, all claim to inheritance 
in his property for the sake of providing for his sisters, 
and set forth in knightly fashion, with only his riding 
horse, to carve out a career for himself. The end was such 
-as life sometimes, as well as romance, furnishes. Success, 
great success, attended the "way of the high-souled- gentle- 
man. He married a lady of high position among the colo- 
nial families, and prospered in every respect, leaving at his 



IseWis (;on|ress. 



deatli large property in Icind, slaves, mills and factories, 
etc., to his children — the portion of each in land being, as 
I have heard, fourteen hundred acres. He had a numerous 




WALLER COAT OF ARMS. 

famil}', from whom are descended many Virginians of well- 
known names. They married as follows: 

Ann, George Wythe, signer of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, and first president of AVilliam and Mary College. 

Dorothea, Charles Smith, Esq. 

Elizabeth, first Col. Littlepage, afterwards Maj. Lewis 
Holladay. 

One of the daughters married a Meriwether, another a 
Ford. 

John. Mildred Lewis, a daughter of the Gloucester Lewis 
family from " Bel-voir,'' Albemarle. 

Waller, Sarah Lewis, her sister. 

Benjamin, a lady of the Bickerton family. 

Zachary, the third of his name, married Ann Overton 
Terrell, and settled at Bel-air, Spotsylvania county, where 
his descendants still live, having held the place from his 
time to the present day. 



IseWis (^on^ress. 



It was considered appropriate that this old homestead, 
tlie oldest now in the hands of the family, should be the 
scene of the family gathering of September 4, 1894. Its 
memories reached far back into fhe i:)ast ; it had seen the 
coming and going of six generations of Lewises and their 
children ; had looked upon the Revolution, and on the na- 
tion's birth ; its walls had heard in those days the ring of 
arms, the news of victor}- — Trenton, Saratoga, Yorktown ; 
had welcomed backed its master, returning to enjoy in 
peace the fruit of courage and endurance. Around its 
hearth questions of policy and State, since tried by fiery 
tests, had been discussed as the living issues of the day — 
the Constitution, the rights of States, the functions of gov- 
ernment, the protection of American ships at sea; the com- 
ing of the war of '12, to which it had sent two young men 
of the house — one a surgeon, the other a soldier. All the 
history of the counti-y had grown around it, tlie typical 
Virginia home, and it had mirrored the thoughts and times 
of all the passing generations, until after years of sunshine 
and storm, of mighty change and long adversity, better 
times li'ad come again, and at last came one glad day, when 
the clan gathered around her hearth. 

What the assembling grandsons and granddaughters saw 
that 3d of September as, after eight miles of journeying 
over Virginia country roads from the railway, they came in 
sight of the object of their pilgriniige was a quaint, 
rambling old house, with wide slopes of grass, and grand 
overshadowing trees; from its veranda plenty of cousins 
pouring forth to welcome them. The walls were eloquent 
with the sentiment of the occasion. Over the door was a 
greeting in evergreens — "AVelcome, my children" — and on 
the wall near it "A aood name is rather to be chosen than 



beWis ^on|rGss. 



riches/' to which was added "Honor thy father and thy 

mother." ' 

AVithin the doors the interior was delightfully consist- 
ent with the outside, pains having been taken to banisii, 
as far as miLibt be, the few reminders in the old house of 
the lapse of time, and to bring to the light all that might 




CORNER OF THE HALL AT CEL-AIR. 

restore the past. Even so small a tiling as arranging the 
chambers in old-fashioned style, and providing the tradi- 
tional cedar water bucket and gourd, was not forgotten. 



beWis (Jon^ress. 



Around the hall, next the ceiling, ran a singular and 
beautiful decoration — a border designed of flcf'i'-de-hjs and 
Virginia creeper, in a rich sliade of brown, harmonizing 
well witli the old-rose tint of the walls — and following the 
trailing vine the lines: 

" Now read the rede of this old roof tree, 
Here be trust fast, opinion free. 
Knightly right hand, and Xtian knee. 
AVorth in all, wit in some, 
Open laughter, slander dumb, 
Hearth where rooted friendships grow. 
And the sparks that upward go 
When the hearth-flame dies below. 
If thy sap in these may be 
Then fear no winter, old roof-tree." 

The effect of it all — the Cjuaint dignity of tlie place, the 
■old-fastiioned simplicity and grace of its arrangements — 
the teeming associations with the old, old days they had 
been taught to love — that they had such reason to love — 
went straight to the hearts of the assembly of kinsmen. 

Surely the old place had cherished until now the secret 
of some magic influence over its own, and they were not 
slow to feel it — to feel that something new and delightful 
was taking them by surprise. 

The plan of the reunion had been a simple one, promis- 
ing the obvious pleasure that must arise from the meeting 
of a large number of kinsmen, all interested in the same 
topic — family history: l)Ut no one had expected the old 
house to take any but a })assive part in the })roceedings. 
Nobody had supposed that in these nineteenth century 
days of progress and improvement, an old dormer-win- 
dowed, C|ueer-gabled house, with its odd lines of roof, its 
•erratic wavs and uiuiccounta1)le chanp-es of level, its irre- 



10 



baWis (^Gn^ress. 



sponsible little eyes of windows — would do anything but 
keep modestly in the background, and let wiser folk talk. 
It was not imagined that an oln'ect so hopelessly behind the 
times as this old-fashioned relic, would take the floor among 
so many fine ladies and gentlemen — would rise up and make 
remarks before tljis dignified assembly. Yet this is just 
what liappened. 




ni:L-AIJi, SPOTSYLVANIA f'OUXTV, VIRGIN'IA, THI-: 
HO.MK OF COL. ZACHAIIY LliWIS. 

Old Bel-air no sooner saw bcr children assembling than 
she roused as if from a long sleep, twinkled and sparkled 



beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ n 



with pleasure from every fluttering morning-glory garland 
that wreathed window or porch; and if ever an old house 
spoke out distinctly " Welcome ! " i: was then and there. 
And then, like an old grandmother who had loitg kept 
silence, overawed hy strange times and new ways, but 
who grew happy and garrulous at the sight of i'amiliar 
faces, she gathered them right tenderly to her knee, and 
fell to telling them stories of old times. Stirred more and 
more by the ring of well known tones and all the pleasure 
of their coming, how the old place — great oaks and all — 
put on a look of dreamy recollection, and breathed forth 
whispers of the past, to say how like, how like were these 
children to the Lewises of other days! And they, gathered 
about her, felt a strange snell coming over them. More 
and more the present receded until tliey seemed living a 
charmed existence in a far off past. Time had gone back- 
ward and they were no longer grown up folk, but little 
children again, with the quick feelings, the ready laughter 
and tears, the tenderness of heart, the nearness to heaven, 
of childhood. 

So perfect was the dream that now, wlien the charm is 
broken, they are not yet certain which is real, this or that, 
and which is the dream. So complete was the transforma- 
tion that one member from Illinois — a grown man, hus- 
band and father, busy with the literary work of the day — 
was taken by his cousins to be a boy of five, and was 
delightful in that character. To show the power of the 
spell over the assembly, two guests not of the charmed 
circle of kindred, one an aspirant for membership, indeed 
an adopted member, from Chicago, and one from the Uni- 
versity of Virginia, who had stated his position by saying 
that if he was not one of the family he ought to be, were 



12 ♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 

both bewitched like tb.e rest, and contributed in the same 
magical way to the haj)py intercourse of the meeting, as if 
they had. been born Lewises — and no more can be said. 

The evening before the 4th wa? perfect — a symposium 
with many a grain of Attic salt, a feast not soon to be for- 
gotten. The programme of the morrow was sketched, and 
talk and song flowed with sparkling variety, one of the 
visiting grandchildren vieing with the University candi- 
date — songs of the Southern cabin and cornfield with 
chants of Erin. At last the guests, tired with the journey, 
those who welcomed them filled Avith content at seeing 
such a goodly gathering of the clan — all iuippyas children 
tired of phiy and satisfied — were gathered under the brood- 
ing wings, tiie slanting roofs of the old house, and so to 
sleep. 

The morning of the 4th was full of interest. The break- 
fast table scene, (as well as others during the meeting,) is 
not to be forgotten. The ready wit, the sparkling contribu- 
tions from each in turn, the members from Georgetown, 
Springfield, Frankfort; Bel-air, Kentucky; Richmond, the 
University of Virginia, Chicago. Everyone was at his 
best, and, (to quote one of the deliglitful stories of the 
occasion,) nothing more was needed than to "let Nature 
take its course," in order that everything should be charm- 
ing. AVit flashed in continuous flow, spontaneous and 
graceful as the springing waters of a fountain, the spark- 
ling showers followed as they fell by others as bright. 

A busy time followed. There was work everywhere. 
Here a group of girls in one porch making or arranging 
decorations in evergreens. There some in another engaged 
in the mysteries of chicken salad, others bringing and arrang- 
ing flowers, ready cousins everywhere at hand to criticise 



beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 13 



or help. Here the arranging of relics, there the designing 
of a motto on the wall in evergreen, an altar in white and 
green on the hearth, beneath a quaint mantel, a design of 
fleur-<h-Iijs on the face, and above, on a pedestal of green, a 
memorial urn. Flowers, pictures, relics, in hall and parlors. 
A charming collection of family photographs had been 
gathered, and introductions through them to a large num- 
ber of kinspeople was one of the pleasures of the occasion. 
In a corner in tlie hall was an old arm-chair, once used by 
Lafayette, which wore that day a ribl)on and tlie star of an 
order of knightliood once belonging to Lafayette's friend, 
General Lewis Littlcpage, the nephew of Col. Lewis, of 
Bel-air. On a low table in front of it lay a relic which 
would have warmed the soldier's heart of Lafayette, had 
he sat there, a sword given by Gen. Washington to Col. 
Zachary Lewis, of Bel-air. 

On the wall, near by, hung the commission of Col. Lewis 
— among hundreds of charming relics — the grant of Bel- 
air from the crown of England: the original letters of 
Meriwether Lewis; a land document signed by Lord Fair- 
fax; the sketch of the position of the fleets in the 
famous siege of Gibraltar in 1782, made during the ac- 
tion by Gen. Lewis Littlepage, then on the staff of the 
Due de Crillon, and viewing the battle from the deck of the 
admiral's galley; original letters of Littlepage, among them 
one describing the visit, of a night or two before the date, 
to Gen. Washington at Mt. Vernon, and innumerable otlier 
objects of great interest. 

The examination of the relics and the discussion of them 
"would have furnished delightful occupation for days; but 
soon this was suspended for the reception of the guests of 
the day by those in the house. And what a feast of grati- 



14 ♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. 



fied claii-feeliiig that was! How Bel-air looked down smil- 
ing on the introductions and hand shaking, seeing here the 
son of one branch of the family meeting one of another; 
there daughters of the old home, so like those of other 
times, some with powdered hair, to look still more like the 
dames of the seventeenth or eighteenth centuries. Every- 
where was cordiality and a pleasant sense of kinship. 
Some dear faces were missing, and a shadow rested where 
they might have been — the thought of sick rooms and of 
approaching parting; but it was a tender shadow — tender 
as the happiness of the day, and linked with it all. 

Now comes the registration of guests, and after that 
luncheon — a scene memorable for the conviction of which, 
it is hoped, every one was conscious that if he did not have 
everything in the world he wanted, he at least had never 
before been surrounded by so many people who wanted 
him to have it. 

Then came the meeting of the whole congress in form, 
the assembling under the lofty cathedral iU'ches of the 
great oak trees, to remember solemnly the blessings of two 
hundred years. The tone of enthusiam, already high, 
grew yet more intense in this feature; and, as the memo- 
rial papers were read — as the leaves of the closed but pre- 
cious })ast were reverently turned one by one — a tide of 
feeling, powerful and sweet, carried us away. Voices of 
those who read trembled with eniotion, and eyes of those 
who listened were wet with tears; and as the sweetness of 
those holy memories came breathing fortli among us, there 
seemed above us something solemn and tender, like the 
hovering of angel's wings. 

The order of the addresses and memorials was as follows: 
First an appropriate address of welcome was made by Mr. 



b9\A)is ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 15 

Jas. B. Green, of the I'niversity, a graceful response to 
whicli followed by Dr. John A. Lewis, of Georgetown, Ky. 
Then came in order the jtapers that follow: 

A A'oice from the Old Home. 

Memoir of Dr. Richmond A. Lewis. 

Memoir of Rev. Cadwallader Lewis, by his son, Dr. Joljn 
A. Lewis, read by Mr. Waller H. Lewis. 

Memoir of Mr. George AVythe Lewis, of Frankfort, Ky., 
by his son, Mr. George A. L^wis. 

]SIemoir of Dr. and Mrs. Patteson, by their son, Mr. Wal- 
ter L. Patteson. 

Memoir of Mrs. E. T. Lewis, of Brecknock, and the 
Brecknock family. 

Memorial sketch of Mr. James M. Scott, of Bel-air, and 
his wife, Mrs. Sarah Travers Scott. 

Memorial of Gen. David Harris, of Woodville. 

Giiost story of Bel-air, Kentucky, by Dr. Richmond 
A. Lewis, of Richmond, Va. — read by the author. 

Farewell address by B. R. A. Scott. 

After the reading and addresses another guest was led 
into the assembly — Aunt Fannie, an old negro woman bent 
with age, and leaning on her stick. prol)nbly the only per- 
son living who remembered Col. Zachary Lewis, the con- 
tem})orary of Washington and Jefferson. She had been 
the little maid who waited on Mrs. Lewis at Bel-air, and 
could tell the great grandchildren of that far-off Revolu- 
tionary dame, of her housewifely ways and kindness. She 
held a short reception, giving her hard and withei'ed hand 
to one after another, and then was seated in state, to be 
photographed with the large group standing in front of the 
house — a group of which another family servant and val- 
ued friend, Lucy Williams. Avas a part, f L^nfortunately the 



16 



beWis fon^ress. 



plate upon wliich this group was taken was " light struck "' 
before a print could be made from it, which is very much 
to be regretted as it would have been the most valuable of 
all the })ictures taken during the meeting.] 




AUNT FANNIK " YKS M, I .MEMBER EM ALL! 

[From a sketch by Miss N. E. Saott.] 



Note— The above illustration represents old Aunt Fannie, Mrs. 
Zachary Lewis's maid, now nearly one hundred years old, as she sat 
by the fireside at Bel-air one Christmas morning and prattled of old 
limes and people dead long ago The following extract of her con- 
versation with her former master, Mr. James Scott, and his daughter^ 
Miss Nannie E. Scott, is touching and full of pathos: 



♦ ♦ beWis ^or\^ress. ♦ ♦ 17 

Two clergymen who were invited to be present could not 
attend, and the religious service' of the occasion, which, 
from the fault (greatly regretted) of one entrusted with 
the programme, did not have its fitting place in the begin- 
ning, took place after the departure of some of the guests. 
It consisted of some beautiful selections from Scripture, 
and, in substance, the prayers that follow. 

The readings from Scripture were the lirst eight verses 
of John XV, the last eight, of Ephesians III, and the 23d 
Psalm. 

Aunt Fannie — "What come o' all de Miss Hills? Ofeton Harris? 
He and his wife dead too? Miss Nancy, I know 'em all" (reflecting). 

Mr. Scott, her former master — '-You are the only one of all those 
living now." 

Aunt Fannie— "Yes; none of 'em in de 'state don know nothin'^ 
'bout what I 'member. Yes; I'm de only one of de ^ state (estate) y 
skusin' Lucy and Henry, and dee don know nothin much." * * 

" What come o' your Aunt Hedgman girls?" (Dead years and years 
ago; her- children gone too ; her grandchildren middle aged.) Aunt 
Fannie continues : "I don forget nothin'. Dee think dee kin fool 
me, but dee ain' fool me. / aui' say nothin^'''' (boastfully). ''Your 
Aunt Hedgman had de prettiest girls. Miss Mildred and Susan. Susan 
cert'ny was pretty. Ev'ybody say how pretty dee was. I know 'em 
all" 

Miss Scott— " Did you know Aunt Hill, Aunt Fannie? Was she 
pretty?" 

Aunt Fannie — "Yes; she favor your Aunt Eliza— s/ie was pretty. 
Your sister Mollie like her— had hair like her. Who did she iAunt 
Eliza) marry?" (The tomb.stone that covers her — pretty Eliza, 
her husband, Walter Raleigh Daniel, and their infant son — has been 
growing gray for many decades in the graveyard, with its inscrip- 
tion of a year when the century was young.) " Didn't they have 
a son ? " 

Miss Scott-" Yes ; he died— a baby." 

Aunt Fanny—" I thuught so. My sister Mary use to mine dat chile. 
I don know what come o' my sister Mary. I spec she dead. I don 
hear nothin' 'bout her dese times. She went down to Stafford wid 
de Daniels. I spec she dead." 

Another time she said, in speaking of Col. Zachary Lewis: "Peo- 
ple used to prize him mightily for his looks. Lewises was the great- 
est folks in de country— wisest — folks always talking 'bout it. Miss 
Eliza Lewis was the first person ever learn me how to knit a stitch, 
and your Grandma Lewis finish learnin' me. She learn me how to 
spin— your grandma did. I can't tell you how she looked. She 
look mighty good — she mighty likely old lady. She was pretty ole 
lady — ev'ybody say dat dat see her. 1 light her pipe for her. Want 
nobody to but me, but den dat was her orders. I used to love her 
same as my mother." 



18 ♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 

Father, of wbop? every family in heaven and earth is 
named, and who hast created all the sweet and sacred ties 
of kindred — who hast given us the i)recious gift of human 
love — a divine lesson to teach us how to know Thee, our 
Parent, we adore and bless Thee for the blessings that 
come to us through these heaven-given channels. We 
thank Thee for the good that comes to us through the ex- 
amples and influence of those Thou bast given us, who 
have gone before us. "We bless Thee for Thy tender gift of 
father's and mother's love — of the affection that binds us 
as kindred and friends. guide us forever, Father, as a 
family. Thy faitiaful children, and make us a blessing wher- 
ever we may be ! We thank Thee for all the pure happi- 
ness of this our meeting, and for the long history of a past 
which Thou hast so greath' blessed. We commit our fu- 
ture to our Father's love, praying Thee to bless us with all 
Thou seest l)est for us, praying that we may, through all 
things, to all generations, live close to Thee, knowing and 
obeying Thy truth, loving our Divine Friend and Father, • 
and our fellow men. 

Bless our family life forever. Help us to use as we ought 
the sweet lessons and privileges it gives; and may we, as 
father or mother, husband or wife, child or parent, brother 
or sister, kindred or friends, forever be loyal to the claims 
of the duties involved in those precious ties ! Throughout 
our history, O Father, make us glorify Thee ! Grant that 
we, beholding as in a glass, ihe glory of the Lord, 
may be changed into His image from day to day, until we 
finally appear in the presence of our Divine Parent, our 
loving Elder Brother. O grant that all that we know and 
love, and all for whom we shall pray, may meet us there, 
to join with the angels and saints in ascribing the praise of 



beWis (Jon^ress. 



19 



our salvation to Him that sitteth on the throne and to the 
Lamb forever ! Be near lis all, whom Thou hast blessed in 
this our meeting, and all the rest. Oh, bless the dear kin- 
dred who are sick ! If it be Thy will, heal and restore 
them to those Thou k no west love them so ! Pit}^ the sor- 
rowing ! Father, Brother, Saviour, Friend, take us now 
and forever into Th}^ loving arms, and save us in time and 
eternity ! Hear us for Christ's sake. Amen. 

Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, 
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth as it is in 
heaven. Give us this day or daily bread, and forgive us 
our debts, as we forgive our debtors, and lead us not into 
temptation, but deliver us from evil, for Thine is the king- 
dom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen. 

TE DEUM LAUDAMUS. 



'". ^^'\ 




,Al5ajW4 9N£;^^^^^^-^ 



WARNER LEWIS COAT OF ARMS. 



/?ddress of Welcome and [\esiDonse. 

— ..o.^^.o., 

TyA R. JAMES B. GREEX, of the University of Virginia, 
± ^ on behalf of the hostess, delivered the following 
address of welcome: 

My Friends: 

This is a case in which the office has sought the man. 
Upon the bridge of time each hears, now slowly, then more 
hurriedly, the measured tread of years. In youth hope is 
high. We look forward up the slope of life, and what we 
see is mainly sunshine. The crcst of the divide reached, 
we make deductions from experience and look forward, still 
hoping, by sober engineering skill, to make a better grade 
for the path. On the other side tlie steps go down to ever- 
deepening shadows, and fortunate are they w^hose retrospect 
is not full of regret. 

In welcoming you to this old fireside, I maybe pardoned 
for saying that a worthier representative might have been 
entrusted Avith the duty, but I give voice cheerfully to the 
sentiments of those avIio abide here when I say that what 
they have is yours, and that their doors are flung wide in 
the hospitality for which Virginia is famous. AVherever 
her sons are scattered their eyes and hearts turn always 
homeward, and here we find the secret of the hold she re- 
tains on their affections. 

Two hundred years ago the founder of the house be- 
came a landed proprietor in the colony, and his descend- 



bsWis (^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 21 



ants hfive kept green the memory of his civic and domestic 
virtues, and sought to imitate them. AVliat changes in the 
history of men and institutions have occurred in the period 
we are speaking of. Dynasties and States have passed 
away; the voice of King George has ceased to be potent 
with us; the map of Europe had new lines and boundaries 
traced by the hand of Napoleon I; Napoleon and his work 
have been remodeled by other conquerors; the mighty 
wheels of commerce, turned by steam and electricity, have 
brought the nations to closer neighborhood, and the Gospel 
■of Peace has been heard in dark continents and the remote 
isles of the sea. 

It is refreshing to turn from the practical daily task of 
■our rushing, busy time to tliese quiet shades and the con- 
templation of ancestral thoughts, virtue, and mode of life, 
and we would be the better for more frequent gatherings 
'«U(di as these. 

Here groups of merry children played; 
Here youths and maidens drea :iing strayed. 
O precious hours, O golden prime, 
An affluence of love and time. 

Let me hope, in conclusion, that you will not be con- 
vinced that you selected the wrong man to speak; that my 
law-abiding Kentucky friends will not recall, at my ex- 
pense,' the story of the "whisky drummer" who forced a 
fellow passenger to sample his wares, under the impression 
that the latter was a temperance orator, but who afterwards 
discovered him to be a dead heat on the road. Again I 
sa}', welcome to Bel-air. 

••■ ••• RESPONSE. ••• ■• 

To which Dr. John A. Lewis, of Georgetown, Kentucky, 
responded as follows: 



22 ♦ ♦ IseWis (Jon^ress. 



I feel that it would not onl}' be appropriate, but indeed 
very inappropriate, if some proper response was not made 
to the very cordial address of welcome to whicl) we have 
just listened. It may be true that I am not the proper per- 
son to make it, as I am entirely unnutliftrized, and yet I 
will undertake to respond for my Kentucky cousins, and 
not for them only, but for ever}' cousin from Bel-air ta 
Ararat; but I must ask your cousinly charity, as I assure 
you that I am not loaded, having no set speech to make^ 
trusting- alone to the inspiration of the moment. 

I stand before you as one of Henry Watterson's one hun- 
dred thousand " unarmed Keiituckians." Had I known just 
the turn the occasion would have taken, I would have ap- 
peared before you, in true Kentucky style, with something- 
in my hip pocket. 

On the last visit which my father, Cadwallader Lewis, 
ever made to Virginia, just prior to his death, which occurred 
in 1882, one of the things which touched him most, and 
which he related to me upon his return, was the fact that 
during that visit he found but one single man, outside of 
his kindred, who had ever seen John Lewis, of Llangollen, 
or was itersonally cognizant that such a man had ever lived 
in Spotsylvania county, Virginia; and yet, three-quarters 
of a century ago the courteous and scholarly John Lewis 
did live in this vicinity, maintained a hospitable home at 
Llangollen, taught a classical school, reared his famih'- and 
filled the place of a good citizen. 

Becoming enamored with the reports which came to him of 
the then far west, he gathered up wife and bairn, and all that 
he held dear, save his kindred and this sacred soil, turning 
his face to the setting sun, he passed the Blue Ridge, under 
whose shadow he had lived all of his life, crossed the great 



beWis (;on|rGSs. ♦ ♦ 23 



Appalachian range, debouchin- through the passes of the 
CumberLand, he entered the land of Boone and of Kenton, 
never resting, never halting, until his eyes rested upon 
that enchanting scene which burst upon the vision of the 
early hunters, Avhen, for the first time, they encamped in 
what the historian Bancroft describes as the unrivalled val- 
ley of the Elkhorn. There, upon the uplands overlooking 
this beautiful stream, he esiablished his home— called it 
Llangollen after the one he had left in Virginia— here he 
lived, reaied his younger children, dispensed hospitality, 
lived the upright citizen, his children were married and 
given in marriage. At last the end came, and John Lewis 
and Jean Wood, his wife, were laid to rest beneath the soil 
of their belcved Kentucky. 

Since that time their descendants have been scattered to- 
the four winds of heaven. To-day some of them are dwell- 
ers in the land of the Alamo, some of them reside by the 
great father of waters, some have fcmnd homes amid the 
broad western prairies, near the borders of the great lakes, 
some of them have returned to the land of their nativity, 
a few of us still linger in the old Kentucky home. 

In behalf of the descendants of John Lewis I de«ire to 
thank our cousins of the Old Don:inion, especially you,. 
Cousin Nannie, for affording us this opportunity of meet- 
ing our kindred and visiting scenes rendered so dear to us 
by the memories of our fathers; and I now, in behalf of 
this entire company of cousins, prop;ise this tribute to the 
memory of him who sleeps under the shadow of this ances- 
tral home— a man of gentle lineage, the college m-aie of 
Thomas Jefferson, a soldier of two wars, an upright citizen^ 
our common ancestor— Col. Zachary Lewis, jr., of Bel-air, 
Spotsylvaniacounty,A'irginia— to-day peace to his ashes — 
all honor to his illustrious memory. 



/V \/oice l^rom me (Jld [Nome. 



6i>6® ®9 ®9 




T last, after many years, much coinin.i;- and going, 
Bel-air welcomes an assembly of her children to her 
heart and to her memories of more than a hundred years — 
memories of their grandfathers and grandmothers and 
their generation, little children, playing beneath its state!}' 
■oaks; and further back, of Colonel Zachary Lewis, telling- 
campaign stories about the winter fire, of scenes of the Revo- 
lution or the French and Indian War, while great-grand- 
mother, with the privilege of her sex, expresses her Tory 
and High (Jhiirch views, and turns up her nose at General 
Washington and Patrick Henry. (Tradition says that 
spirited lady's notions were so out of tune with the patriotic 
fervor of 1775 that some of the neighborhood people, in 
spite of Colonel Lewis's public services, bui-ned with indig- 
nation, and said among themselves tliat "L;'dy Lewis," as 
they called her, deserved a "touch of the ducking-stool.") 
Deseived or not, nol)ody laid finger on Lady Lewis, but that 
willful lady pursued her own way. Li Revolutionary days, 
when abstinence from tea meant loyalty to anti-taxation 
principles, and defiance to King George, she quaffed her 
tea privately with some guest, in the room up stairs, which 
is still to be seen. Now, in much later life, she took a whiff of 
smoke from her pipe with as much nonchalance as marks the 
advanced society woman of this century, who puffs a wreath 
-of fragrant smoke from her pretty lips, and holds her 



beWis (Jon^ress. 



25 



-cigarette between dainty fingers— all afore folk too— j^^st 
as did Lady Lewis. Fye, fye upon you, great grandmamma. 
There is still the chimney with the little niche where used 
to repose the pipe of this Virginia m:itron, all ready to 
her hand. And there is her room where, in her lively old 
age, she one day undertook to show her friend, "Cousin 
Callis," I think, how one of the negroes shouted— greatly 




BEI.-AIR FROM A RECENT PHOTOGRAPH. 

to the alarm of Cousin Callis who thought that Cousin 
Lewis had lost her bright mind. Picture again another 
scene: Cousin Callis, who was cross-eyed, I believe, and 
Lady Lewis, who, though brigat, was none the better look- 
ing for age, sitting in solemn state, entertaining two of 
Uncle John's school-boys, until one of them could- bear it 
no longer and said~we can imagine with what startling 



26 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. . ♦ 

effect, and how much to.the. amusem.ent of the old latlies: — 
"Gome on, Jolm.. Let's go out of here. I don't want to 
stay with these ugly old women." This. remark, it is said,. 
marks a strong hereditary family trait, that of inability tO; 
be held in uncongenial society. Another picture of the 
genial old age of Lady Lewis shows her drawn over in her 
gig to Llangollen by the boys (with whom "Aunt Lewis"' 
was very poj)ular) because slie was wanted over there at. 
her son's, and was afraid, in her feebleness, of horses. A 
loyal old Episcopalian, she used to send for the parson 
and have comraanion liira at Bol-air wiien she was in 
trouble. Sue draws upon herself some suspicion of a 
savour of the persecuting ways of her church, by a tradition 
handed down of her great annoyance at Addison's depart- 
ure, and her sending for her oldest son, Richmond, to come 
over from Brecknock to deal with his ca^e. Addison, poor 
boy, wanted religious sympathy and used to go to a pious 
old negro servant for it — Uncle Mowen, I think. Richmond 
came, 1 believe, but counsjUed letting Addison follow his- 
own heart. 

Think how familiar to the cpiaint old house must sound 
the names so hjng unheard — as we ttdk of them in our 
gathering — .md what memories stir in the rooms of far off 
Aunt Anne and Chancellor Wythe; of Dorothea Lewis and 
her jjandsome husband, Charles Smith, son of the 
Christopher to wlioni Bel-air was granted in 1728; of Aunt. 
Meriwether; then of the children of the next generation — 
pretty Eliza, whose guitar u.se 1 to tinkle in the bower out 
by tlie cedars, where also, I suspect, the overhanging, 
boughs were conscious of sundry flirtations — of course of a 
most staid eighteentli century tvpe — when the most im- 
passioneil flight of elo:iuence was to marniar some vague 



IseWis (Jen|re£s. ♦ ♦ 27 

hints of "respect" and "esteem" — blnshiiig np to the eyes 
Avitlmh How the old roof welcomes back the relics of those 
far off times — things it has not seen for so long, so long — 
CoL Lewis's sword, his commission, tin; [)icture of Charles 
Smith and all the rest. And the study, long disused, 
seems to hear again the Cxjlonel's step, as he walks to 
-and fro meditating on the solving of some mechanical 
problem, which has amused his learned leisure. Madame 
Ducero, too, passes by, contrasting in her mind the troubled 
clays in Hayti, the pricking of the murderous swords, as 
she hid in deadly terror, and the peace and security of 
the hospitable home, where she has such untroubled inter- 
course with her ducks, and where she can still chatter 
French with her kind host. All these memories and many 
more are in the air, and hover over the hearth, where we 
meet and dedicate fresh memorial garlands to two hundred 
years of honorable family life. Let us not, while memories, 
grave and gay, crowd upon us, of the lights and shadows 
that have played over the old home, fail to understand the 
solemnity of the rare privilege we enjoy, in being able to 
look back through so many generations of ancestors with- 
out a stain — iionorable men and women, from the first 
Zachary of 1694, through his chivalrous son, and his son, 
the patriot and soldier, whose examples point us to what is 
generous, noble and high. The intimate knowledge of such 
as they were becomes, as has been said, an "external 
conscience," ^^dlose office it is to aid the internal. An 
English bishop says: "It is because we see on the faces of 
others the condemnation of anything of which we ought 
to be ashamed in ourselves that we are able to trample 
down many teuiptations and to hold steadily to high lines 
of conduct." How strong is this influence when those faces 



28 ♦ ♦ beWis (;on|ress. ♦ ♦ 

are those of our near kinJre<l, of whom we think as so close 
to ourselves in nature and sym[)athy. It gives us a clearer 
view of the truth .that no num liveth to himself, and no 
man dieth to himself; to realize what our ancestors have 
been to us, in transmitting tlieir name untarnished, and 
what we shimld be to each other, and to them in keeping- 
that sacred trust. Let us value the old place, still in our 
family, about which such memories cluster so that they are 
not likely to be lost or weakened; and let us cherish the 
elevating thought that our lives, that seem so short and 
small, are not isolated fragm3nts, but closely fitted piirts of a 
noble whole, of which we ought to make them worthy. 

Surely it would be a base soul that would consent to mar 
with one discordant note, a story which is, to borrow the- 
fine language of a gifted author, "among the meanings of' 
noble music." 



J). Ri; 



chmond ewis 



[ev 



(LARGELY FROM THE REMINISCENCES OP MARY OVERTON LEWIS, 

HIS NIECE.) 




•I, 



HE outline of Dr. Lewis's? 
_life is foLiDcl ill "Virginia 
Genealoo-ies" — under the 
record of the Lewis family. 
But in it striking points of 
narrative are few or none. 
His life, unlike that of some of 
his kinsmen of the same nam© 
and generation, was too happy 
to have a history, and the 
impress he left on society , 
DK. KicHMoxD LEWIS, OF was made more hy the exer- 
BRECKNOCK. cisG of liis social virtues and 

accomplishments — by what he ivas in character and mind — 
than by achievements in public life, such as marked the 
career of those referred to, who were brilliant in court or 
camp. The attempt of this sketch is only to make a pen- 
picture of him, to recall him as he appeared to those who 
knew him in daily intercourse. He was not only an accom- 
plished and successful physician, but a man of great men- 
tal polish and social attractiveness. A difficulty of sjDeech 
in childhood, which, it was apprehended, would prevent his 
ever speaking easily, was so entirely removed in the course 



30 * ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. 



gf his edueatiou that he was a brilliant conversationalist — 
fluent and elegant in his own language and in French, of 
which he was very fond. He lived, while pursuing his 
medical education, in Philadelphia, in a French family, 
that he might speak the language habitually; and it was 
his practice to speak French at his tal)le, to his daughters, 
who, inheriting the Lewis taste for linguistic study, were 
interested students of several languages. A picLuresc^ue 
and characteristic episode in the family life of Bel-air (the 
coming and residence among them of a French refugee 
from Hayti, Madame Ducero, who ended her life among 
the Lewises and is buried at Bel-air) may have turned his 
taste in the direction of French language and literature. 
One who knew him says "he was exceedingly polished and 
elegant in his manners and courteous, as were all the gen- 
tlemen of his family, not only in general society but also 
at home" — not thinking that the familiarity of lamily in- 
tercourse should be a reason for neglect or want of polite- 
ness to the home circle, but making liis home life beautiful 
with the grace that was the natural expression of his own 
refined mind and heart. Tlie same person says: "I have 
never known any gentlemen so elegantly courteous in 
their own families as those Lewises." Of course he was 
universally popular and admired and beloved in the fami- 
lies in wliich he practiced. The confide;ice of his patients 
in his skill was shown by his being sent for once in a case 
where there was alarm, and being brought, since he was 
disabled by an accident, not only all the way to the house 
in a carriage, but carried up to the sick room in the arms 
of two negro men. His practice was very large, keeping 
him quite busy, and being the means of acquiring a large 
prop,erty. In his attention to it he was very diligent and 



beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 3i 

systematic, and also in attending to the details of the farm- 
ing at liis place, Brecknock. He was particular even in so 
small a thing as the management of a forge, where the 
negro bhicksmith was required to keep exact account of 
everything done each day, and to bring it to the house in 
the evening to be set down by Dr. Lewis or by some of the 
family. Of course he had no time for personal attention to 
his farm, but his overseer was recjuired to report to him the 
necessary details. He was orderly in the extreme, eve;i in 
the smallest thing — not allowing so much as agate-latch to 
be out of repair. I have heard he would dismount from 
his horse or leave his carriage to replace a rail that was out 
of place and looking disorderly on the road. In regard to 
his person, he was as particular as in other things, his 
dress being always neat and elegant, without seeming to 
give him a moment's thought after he was once dressed. 
He always retained, even after the fashion had begun to 
change, the dainty shirt frills and queue whicli belonged to 
the dress of the gentlemen of his period. He was devoted 
to reading, as were all of his family, and on coming home 
from his riding he would refresh himself with it as a re- 
creation, becoming so absorbed in his book that when 
spoken to he required a moment or so to rouse his atten- 
tion to what was being said. Sympathetic witn young life, 
and fond of children, his gracious and genial manner en- 
couraged his children to play practical jokes on him in his 
moments of abstraction. Once one of them, with her 
cousin Elizabeth, I think, carefully prepared, early in 
spring, when strawberries were blooming, some little sour 
pink oak balls, and full of amusement at his coming sur- 
prise, handed them to him in a leaf, asking if he didn't 
want some strawberries. He looked up smiling, answering 



32 ♦ ♦ IseWis (Jon^ress. 



"Strawberries? I did not know they were up yet." And 
looking at the pretty shams in their leafy setting, he said: 
"No. Seeing they are so few, I don't think I will take ariy" 
— his simplicity and kindness unconsciously turning the 
joke on the saucy little maids. 

Dr. Lewis's manner, and that of his brother John, to chil- 
dren and young people, being entirely free from stiffness 
and full of sympath}' and cordial interest, won them strong- 
1)', and its grace brought the younger members of the 
family within the charm and influence of these two ac- 
complished men. Their brother Addison was so grave and 
stately as to overawe the children, and they were afraid of 
him — even his own. He seemed unable, while perfectly 
kind and polite, to condescend to the low estate of the little 
ones, so as to entertain them and put them at ease. He 
always kept his library locked, and did not seem to direct 
his children's reading. Their natural bent towards the 
usual food of the Lewis intellect asserted itself, however, 
and they i)ecame reading and intelligent people, congenial 
companions to their father. Far different was the beautiful 
and happy intercourse between the other brothers, Rich- 
mond and John, and their children. The tastes of the 
matured and cultivated minds were naturally and delight- 
fully transmitted to the bright and eager ones that were 
glad to follow in paths where they were so charmingly led; 
and the enthusiasm of the younger minds, we may be sure, 
kept fresh in the older that evergreen quality of immortal 
youth, which is a mark of genius and of the Leiuises. 

Dr. Lewis's wife used to encourage games of romping 
among her children, a fact which seems strange in connec- 
tion with her own grave and stately style and the unbend- 
ing ideas of propriety as well as principle in which she so 



beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 33 



carefully reared them. But this had its root, with much of 
the seriousness whicli made her presence somewhat awe- 
inspiring, in the sorrow that darkened her life in the loss of 
her older children, and made her more anxiously thought- 
ful of the cultivation of the physical powers of those who 
were left. But they understood that all of such sports 
must stop in the house when Dr. Lewis needed rest after 
his arduous labors, and his little niece, Bet, poured out to 
him her feelings with a familiarity and confidence, express- 
ing perfectly her intimacy and his affectionate understand- 
ing — but very different probably from what the little lady 
would have dared in the presence of her Aunt Betsey's 
austere dignity — "I'm so glad when you go away, because 
when you are here we can't play bear!" Another anecdote 
of this lively niece's playing on her gentle uncle's confi- 
dence gives another glimpse of the happy life at Brecknock. 
She dressed herself to personate a beggar — forgetting such 
small incongruities as her gold ring and delicate slippers, 
and all closely bonneted and duly, and, as she thought, con- 
sistenly shabby, presented herself at the door, to which her 
knock brought the Doctor from his reading, while the group 
of girls, her fellow-conspirators, watched the interview from 
an adjoining room with eager delight. The kindness of 
his benevolent manner to the unworthy beggar, his inviting 
her to come in and sit down, his secret uneasiness about 
contagion being possibly brought into the house, his asking 
her name, and her desperate rising to the unexpected 
emergency with 'Menny Collad," were morsels of rapture 
to the laughing group of girls, and when he at last told her 
with great kindness that as it did not suit the family to 
entertain her at night, she might get shelter at the tavern 
with the money he gave her — a shout of delight revealed to 
the astonished Doctor his mischievous niece betraved. 



34 * ♦ IseWis (Jon^ress. ♦ 

His genial and winning manner would not have had the 
•charm it possessed if it had not l)een felt by those who knew 
liim that behind it there was tlie high character of a stain- 
less gentleman, integrity and sense of honor and inviolable 
truth. It is a pleasure to remember that the setting was 
worthy of the jewel, the personal beauty was equal in its 
way to that of the mind and soul within. He was tall and 
handsome, erect and graceful, with brown laughing eyes, 
and brown hair with sunshine in it, and the patrician out- 
line of feature and noble poise of the fine liead, which is 
shown in the only likeness of him remaining. It is pleas- 
ant to weave for his memory a garland of remembrances of 
him which are so fragrant; to come as near as we can to 
looking upon him, to feeling the influence of his noble 
presence, the brilliant expression of his cultivated mind, 
the refined and kindly manner. It is seemly to do this and 
to feel grateful for the example that has been left to us 
by him and by others whom he influenced — with which 
it is impossible to come in contact without feeling its 
elevating power. This pen-sketch has accomplished what 
made it worth while to write it and to listen to it, if it 
has proved even such an outline as would furnish us, 
through his memor}', with another impulse of inspiration to 
keep our ideals as high as w^ere those of our forefathers, of 
whom Dr. Richmond Lewis was a typical representative, 
having the race-characteristics strongly and beautifully 
marked. 



[\ev. f adwallader lewis. 



6® 6© ©9®9 



BY HIS SOX, JOHN A. LEWIS, OF GEORGETOWN, KY. 

eADWALLADER 
Lewis was the sec- 
ond child and the 
ehlest son of John and 
Jean Wood Lewis, of 
Llangollen, Spotsylvania 
county, Virginia. He 
had five brothers and six 
sisters, all of whom lived 
to manhood and woman- 
hood. Tlie subject of 
this sketch was born at 
Bel-air, Spotsylvania 
county, Virginia, the 
homestead of his pater- 
nal grandfather. Colonel 
Zachary Lewis, Jr., on 
RKV. CADWALLADER LEWIS, OF BEL- November 5, 1811. CoL 

AIR, FRANKLIN CO., KY. „ , t • T 1, • 

' Zachary Lewis, Jr., his 

grandfather, belonged to a distinguished family of Lewises,, 
who traced their descent in direct line to Zachary Lewis, of 
Brecknock, in Wales, who immigrated to Virginia about 
1694, and settled in King and Queen county. 

Col. Zachary Lewis, Jr., was a gentleman highly respect- 
ed in his communitv, a man of fortune and of jiolite educa- 




36 ♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. 



tion. He was a student with Thomas Jefferson at William 
and Marv College. 

After completing his education, he enlisted in the colonial 
army and was for sometime stationed with Col. George 
AVashington, afterwards Gen. George Washington, at Fort 
Cumberland. He was commissioned a captain of infantry 
in the colonial arm}^ Febuary 17th, 1758. His original 
commission is still in the hands of his family and is signed 
by Robert Dinwiddle, his Majesty's Lieutenant-Governor of 
the Colony of Virginia. Col. Lewis was a mess-mate and 
intimate friend of Col. Washington. According to Mr. 
Brock, the Virginia historian. Col. Zachary Lewis, Jr., 
was a captain and a colonel in the Continental l:ne during 
the Revolutionary War. Col. Lewis married Ann Overton 
Terrell, of Louisa county, Virginia. John Lewis, the father 
of Cadwallader Lewis, was the second son of Col. 
Zachary Lewis, Jr. He was a gentleman of the old school, 
remarkable for his ripe scholarship — highl}- cultivated, 
courteous and dignified in manner. A lawyer by profes- 
sion, yet a teacher, by choice, all of" his life of a private class- 
ical school of very high order. Soon after the birth of his 
son, Cadwallader, he removed to his own home, Llangollen, 
a farm which adjoined the estate of his father in Spot- 
sylvania 'county, Virginia. Here he lived for nearly 
twenty years, reared his famil}^ of twelve children and con- 
ducted a classical school for the preparation of young men 
for college. His school was very popular, and was filled 
with the sons from the best families of Virginia. He moved 
from Virginia to Kentucky about 1832, located on a farm 
which he called Llangollen, near Frankfort, Ky , wliere he 
conducted a school of the same order as in Virginia until 
his death, which occurred in 1858. Among the young men 



beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 37 

he educated in his school, both in Kentucky and Virginia, 
were quite a number who, in after years, became distin- 
guished in the history of their State. John Lewis was an 
-elegant and forcible writer — he wrote much for the current 
literature of his day, besides he wrote two or three books, 
one of them, entitled "Young Kate or the Rescue, a Tale of 
the Great Kanawha," a well written and very readable 
novel. He Avas a captain of cavalry during the war of 
1812, and did duty along the Potomac river. At the age 
of 24 years he married Jean Wood Daniel, a daughter of 
Mr. Travers Daniel, of Crows Nest, Stafford county, Vir- 
ginia. 

Travers Daniel was a man of gentle lineage and of the 
highest respectability and education. His grandmother 
was Hannah Ball, the half-sister of Mary Ball, the mother 
of Gen. Washington. The Daniel family was one of the 
most respected and best known familes in Virginia and 
numbers among its members not a few who have been dis- 
tinguished in the history of A'^irginia. Jean Wood Lewis 
was a Avorthy daughter of this worthy family, and was in 
every way suited to be the wife of the scholarly John Lewis, 
of Llangollen. 

The childhood and youth of Cadwallader Lewis were 
spent at his home, Llangollen, Spotsylvania county, Vir- 
ginia. His preparatory education was conducted entirely 
b}'' his father, with the exception perhaps of one year, 
which he spent in the school of *Rev. Hugh Boggs, 
a teacher of reputation in the same neighborhood, where 
he was sent to perfect his Gre3k. John Lewis never 
•esteemed himself a critical Greek scholar. Cadwallader 
Lewis early manifested a love for books and was of studi- 
ous habit. Some monthly school reports, still preserved, 



38 ♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 

given to him by liis father at a very early age, indicate his 
studiousness and proficiency. Although of delicate consti- 
tution always, and of slender physique, yet he was ever fond 
of the manly outdoor sports. When a boy he took great 
pleasure in hunting, trapping and fishing, especially fox 
hunting. He prided himself on being an expert swimmer 
and skater. In his later 3'ears of life nothing gave him 
more pleasure than to revert to the scenes of his boyhood, 
when he roamed over the fields and forests of old Spotsyl- 
vania. He never lost his aftection for Virginia and her 
people, and several times in after years revisited the home 
of his childhood. 

At the age of nineteen he was sent to the University of 
Virginia to complete his education. His cousin, Alexan- 
der HoUaday, who had been his classmate in his father's 
school, accompanied him and was his roommate. Mr. 
HoUaday afterwards became a distinguished lawyer of Vir- 
ginia, and was representative from his district in the 
United States Congress. 

He entered the senior class in mathematics and the lan- 
guages without difficulty, and the professors reported to his 
father that he and Mr. HoUaday were among the best pre- 
pared students who had ever entered the University. His 
monthly reports, still in existence, sent to his father indi- 
cate- that his class standing was perfect, his deportment 
perfect, absent never. Letters written to his father told him 
of his constant application to his work, tells him of his 
translating Greek and Latin into English, and English 
into Greek and Latin, and says it will require six hours 
hard study to-day to complete ni}^ lessons. His letters from 
the University to his mother clearly indicate his love of 
home and affectionate interest in the family. 



beWis (;or\^ress. ♦ ♦ 39 



He once told the writer of this sketch that toward the 
close of the session at the University, one of the students 
ventured to ask Dr. Gesner Harrison as to the relative 
standinc^ of the students in the Latin class. He said Dr. 
Harrison anawered promptly, "I can tell you that Mr. Lewis 
and Mr. Holladay will be found near the top." He re- 
mained at the University but one year, the session of 1830- 
31. He completed the course in ancient and modern lan- 
o-uao-es and mathematics, some other studies were unfinish- 
ed, consequently he did not receive a degree. He returned 
home at the close of liis college year, and that fall he de- 
termined to try his fortune in the West. He came out to 
Covington, Kentucky, and taught a select school in that 
citv for one vear. From Covington he went to Georgetown, 
Kentucky, where he took charge of the preparatory de- 
partment of Georgetown College, then under the Presiden- 
cy of Joel S. Bacon. While engaged in teaching here he 
began the study of medicine, which he prosecuted vigor- 
ously for two years, und^^r the tutelage of Dr. Henry Craig. 
His health, which had never been robust, now completely 
failed, and he determined to abandon teaching and the 
study of medicine, and by the advice of his physician en- 
gaged in farming. His father had recently moved from Vir- 
ginia to Kentucky and located at Georgetown, but had pur- 
chased a farm in Franklin county, about seven miles east 
of. Frankfort. To this place his son, Cadwallader, removed 
about 1835 and engaged in farming for his father until 
about 1840, when, having purchased a small place adjoining 
his father's, he moved upon it. In the meantime, February 
13, 1839, he had married Miss Elizabeth Henry Patteson, the 
daughter of Alexander Patteson, of Clover Hill, Prince 
Edward county, Virginia. Clover Hill, the residence of 



40 ♦ ♦ l£)e\A)is ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 

Col. Patteson, was afterward made the county seat of the 
new county of Appomattox, and became the historic Ap- 
pomattox Court House. Mrs. Patteson, at the death of her 
husband in Virginia, had moved with her family, to Ken- 
tucky and located near the Forks of Elkhorn, but a few 
miles distant from the home of Cadwallader Lewis. His 
marriage to Miss Elizabeth H. Patteson proved to be an 
exceedingly fortunate one. She was a woman in every way 
suited to be the helpmate of an ambitious, industrious and 
struggling young man. She was a cultivated woman of 
very decided character, quiet, plain, unobtrusive, very do- 
mestic in her tastes and the personification of industr}". In 
later 3'ears she united with the Baptist Church, became a 
devout Christian of unfaltering faith. Her highest happi- 
ness was found in her home, surrounded by her children. 
This couple began their married life in very straightened 
circumstances, and literally carved out their own fortune 
Only a few acres of land were theirs, and these not paid for; 
the farm was not only small but poorly improved, the house 
indifferent and was bare of everything except the plainest 
furniture. It was absolutely necessary for them to labor 
with their own hands and practice the most rigid economy, 
that they might enjoy the plainest comforts of life. Cad- 
wallader Lewis, for a number of years, labored industrious- 
ly upon his farm, planting, sowing, reaping, felling trees, 
building fences, anything and everything which was to be 
d^one he did not hesitate to do. His wife was not a whitbe- 
him in industry. She cared for her children, made their 
clothing, sewed, knitted, did domestic work, attended 
to her garden, raised poultry, took care of the dairy, she 
was busy from morning until night., They both seemed to 
have ambition to become independent in life, to educate 



beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 41 

well their children, and to build for themselves a comforta- 
ble home. After years of toil this was finally accomplished. 
When Cadwallader Lewis died, in 18(S2, he left one of the 
handsomest farms in Central Kentucky, upon wiiich was a 
■capacious and comfortable modern dwelling, furnished with 
■all that was necessary to insure real comfort and happiness. 
His children enjoyed the best educational advantages af- 
forded by Kentucky. This couple lived together for forty- 
three years and were not long separated in death, the hus- 
band dying in 1882, the wife in 1887 — both died suddenly. 
There were born to them seven children, five sons and two 
daughters, one son and one daughter dving in infanc}' — 
four sons and one daughter are living now. Two sons, 
"William J. and Waller H. Lewis, reside upon and <ire the 
owners of the family homesteiul, Bel-air, in Franklin coun- 
ty. They nre substantial and respected citizens, members of 
Providence, their father's old church, model farmers and 
and breeders of fine stock. Waller H. is unmarried, Wil- 
liam J. married Miss Louise Wallace, of Woodford county, 
Kentucky, they have two daughters. Charles Cadwallader 
Lewis is a very successful pliysician, highly respected 
and lives near Stamping Ground, Scott county, Kentucky. 
He married Miss Letitia B;.rron, of Owensboro, Kentucky, 
•and they have four children, one daughter and three sons. 
Mary P. Lewis is unmarried and lives with her brothers at 
the home place. She is a member of Providence, her 
father's old church, and is deeply devoted to the interests 
•of the church and community in which her father lived and 
labored so long. She is one of the pillars of the church, 
and is the pastor's best friend. She is the worthy suc- 
cessor of her worthy father. 

John A. Lewis, the writer of this sketch, is the second 



42 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. 



son, a ph\'sician of twenty-five years practice in George- 
town, Kentucky. He married Miss M. J. Scott, of Frank- 
lin county, Kentucky. He has four children living, two 
sons and two daughters. 

The children of CadwaHader Lewis are all members of 
the -Baptist Church, the faith so loved and so honored by 
their useful and respected father. In 1844, while still en- 
gaged in farming, the most important event in the life of 
Cadwallader Lewis occurred. He was converted to Chris- 
tianity, under the preaching of Rev. B. F. Kenny, a Baptist 
minister, and unite! with the church at Buck Run, Frank- 
lin county, Ky. This cliurch was located within two miles 
of his home. He had not been reared a Baptist, his father 
was a Presbyterian, his moilier had been brought up in the 
Episcopal Church, but having examined carefully the doc- 
trines of the different denominations for himself, he gave 
his adhesion to the Baptist faith, from which he never 
turned away in life or faltered, but became one of its most 
uncompromising and able defendants. He once told the 
writer that when a small boy, his father, when on a visit to 
Fredericksburg, Virginia, took him to the jail and 
showed him the bars through which Lewis Craig, the old 
Baptist divine, had preached while in prison. He remark- 
ed that this made a powerful impression upon his mind, 
and was one of the influences which prejudiced him in 
favor of the Baptists. This may seem too insignificant a mat- 
ter to have borne any part in the determination of so grave 
a. question, j^et when viewed in connection with the well- 
known intense feeling of Cadwallader Lewis against any- 
thing like religious intolerance, it is not improbable that it 
may have had some weight in determining him towards 
that church which had battled so long and so uncompro- 
misingly for religious freedom. 



beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 43 



He was ordained to the Gospel ministry in the Ba[)tist 
€hiirch in 1S4G. 

His first work in the ministry was done as a supply to 
the Frankfort Church and several other small churches in 
the surroumling- country. In 1848 he accepted the care 
of the Versailles and Glens Creek Baptist churches, both 
located in Woodford county, the county adjoining the one 
in which he lived — the clmrches were distant from his 
home, one ten and the other fourteen miles. 

At Versailles he succeeded Dr. W:\t. F. Broadus, at Glens 
Creek, the Rev. John L. Waller. He preached continually 
and acceptably to the Versailles Church until December, 
1864, when upon liis way to fill an appointment his 
horse fell upon the ice, thi'owing him off and fracturing 
his thigh near the hip joint. The injury was of tlie inost 
serious nature; he was in bed for four months and on 
crutches for two years. Hj was ever after a cripple, his 
limb was shortened and his knee joint left stiff — yet he 
managed to walk very quickly and with but slight halting 
by the aid of a cane. This injury cau.sed him to resign 
the care of Versailles Church. Previous to this he had 
given up the care of Glens Creek Church to take charge of 
Providence, a new church organized near his home in 
Franklin county. 

His crippled condition so interfered with his activity as a 
minister that he was induced to accept the position of Pro- 
fessor of Theology and Belle-lettres in Georgetown Col- 
lege. Although he had not taught for years, he gave the 
most pefect satisfaction as a teacher and greatly endeared 
himself to both the faculty and students of the college. 
But after four years he became restless and decided to re- 
turn to his full work in the Gospel ministry, and just as 



44 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. 



soon as he felt bis liealth sufficiently restored for active 
work he resigned his professorship and took up the full 
work of a pastor agiin. He accepted a call as pastor of 
the Great Crossings Church, Scott county, Kentucky, where 
he preached for five years. He had never relinquished the 
pastorate of Providence, but preached to this church con- 
tinually from its organization, in 1857, until his death, in 
1882- -twenty-five years. 

While suftering from bis broken limb, he began to 
preach to this church just as soon as he was able to go 
about on crutches, and he frequently preached sitting in 
his chair. After a pastorate of five years at the Great 
Crossings he resigned to take charge of the Mount Vernon 
church in Woodford county, where he preached until the 
day of his death. His pastorate extended over a period of 
36 years; beginning in 1846, ending in 1882. During 
that time he had charge of only five churches, preaching 
at Versailles 16 years — Glens Creek about 11 years — 
Providence 25 years — Great Crossings 5 years and Mount 
Vernon 12 years. 

No church of which he was the pastor ever gave him up 
without a protest. His pastorial work for these churches 
was all done while he lived at his own home in Franklin 
county. The churches were located from eight to fourteen 
mil-es distant, except Providence, which was about one 
mile. 

Although he lived so far away he did a great deal of pasto- 
rial work among his churches. In going to and from them 
he rode horseback until his accident. He was a splendid 
horseman, always rode a good horse; he preferred this, 
mode of travel. He rarely missed an appointment with, 
one of his churches. Neither heat or cold, snow or rain ever 



♦ ♦ IseWis (Jon^rGss. ♦ ♦ 45 

deterred liira. As a pastor be -was a-model. His member- 
ship were exceedingly f(md of him — and he wa^ devoted to 
ever}' family and individual in his church. 

He visited the rich and poor, treating all alike, makiuj; 
himself agreeable to all, accommodating himself to his sur- 
roundings. His visits were looked forward to with the 
greatest pleasure by those who expected his coming; he 
was a charming ccnversationali.^^t and fireside companion; 
his cultivated and well-stored mind enabled him to instruct^ 
entertain and amuse all with whom he came in contact. 

If there were any sick in his congregation, he was found 
b}'' the bedside to administer consolation; if any were in 
trouble, he was there to advise; if an}' were in Avant, he was 
there to assist. Annually, at least, he held protracted 
meetings with his churches; often he did the entire preach- 
ing himself, at other times he had seme visiting brother to 
assist him. He was very })opular and successful as a re- 
vivalist, and his services were much in demand for hold- 
ing protracted meetings by the churches in Central Ken- 
tucky. 

During his long pastorate hundreds were brought to 
Christ under his preaching. During his ministry he re- 
ceived a number of calls from city churches, offering him 
handsome salaries, but he always declined, refusing to 
leave his home in the country, to which he was unaltera- 
bly attached. 

But he was not only a successful pastor, but also 
a preacher of the highest order. In the pulpit he was 
commanding in appearance, dignified in manner, impres- 
sive in address. Being of a highly nervous temperament, 
he became easily enthused with whatever subject was 
before him ; his whole nature was aroused, his utterances 



46 ♦ * beWis fon^ress. 



came from the heart, and were fervid, earnest, direct, con- 
vincing. He was fluent in speech, ornate in style, pure 
in diction, convincing in logic. There was nothing of 
the dull, monotonous routine style about his preaching. 
The elegant prencher and barrister, John Bryce, regarded 
him as the first orator in the Kentucky pulpit. His texts 
were carefully selected, and were always appropriate to 
the occasion ; his sermons were carefully prepared, and 
breathed of the atmosphere of every day life, being full 
of illustrations drawn from what he saw transpiring 
around him. He was never sensational, and yet never 
commonplace ; he was always orthodox — never tending 
close even \o the border line. He died fully believing 
in the ploiary inspiration of the Holy Scripture.-;, and 
I am glad of it. I sincerely wish I had never heard that 
the world was created in six geological periods, instead 
of six literal days of twenty-four hours each. The science 
of geology may be the gainer, but thelogy is only the 
more confused. 

He rarely ever wrote out a sermon in full, yet he did do 
this upon occasions, when appointed to preach before 
large religious bodies upon important subjects. He 
preached nearly entirely from notes ; the subject was care- 
fully studied and mapped out in divisions and sub- 
divisions, making a complete skeleton sermon. Hun- 
dreds of these sermons, carefully prepared, were left 
among his papers. In speaking he rarely referred to his 
notes, and you would scarcely notice that he had them 
before him. His style of preaching must have been at- 
tractive, for his congregations were always large and 
appreciative. Those Avho heard him once went away im- 
pressed, and never failed to iiear him again, when ©p- 
portunity offered. 



beWis (Jon|ress. ♦ ♦ 47 



Whenever he preached at associations he attracted 
large crowds, and his sermons were always favorably com- 
mented upon. Toward other Christian denominations 
he was exceedingly charitable, and he was always upon 
the most intimate and friendly terms with them. Some 
of his very best friends and greatest admirers were found 
among the other denominations. They frequented his 
churches and he was often invited to preach from their 
pulpits. 

But it must not be supposed that he was alone popular 
with the church people. He was greatly beloved and ad- 
mired by those who had no church connections, and 
some of his very best friends were among the men of 
the world. Among the distiguished politicians of Ken- 
tucky, Avith whom he was intimately acquainted and who 
were his friends, were Hon. Thos. F. Marshall, Hon. John 
J. Crittenden, Gov. Cliarles S. Morehead, Gen. John C. 
Breckinridge, Gov. John W. Stevenson, Senators James 
B. Beck and J. C. S. Blackburn. In company with one 
of the lady members of his church he visited Hon. Thos. 
F. Marshall just a few days before lie died. 

Although his principal work was the gospel ministry^ 
yet his entire life as a minister Avas spent upon his farm, 
and during twenty years of that time he was engaged in 
farming, and gave it his personal attention. He was 
an excellent farmer, industrious, intelligent, successful — 
not content to follow in the furrows ploughed by the 
fathers, he was quick to observe any valuable innovation 
in the science of agriculture, and ready to give it a 
practical test. He was not chimerical, running wild 
about every new thing, but was ready always to adopt 
any new mode of cultivation which proved to be an ad- 
4 



48 ♦ ♦ IseWis (^on^ress. 



vance on the old. His farm was cultivated after the 
ii>ost approved methods. I never knew a more industri- 
ous, painstaking, careful farmer. He took no chance — 
hoping by accident things might woric out all right. He 
looked ahead — made the proper efforts to bring about 
results, labored to an end — had a purpose in view and 
was rarely disappointed. His farm was kept in excellent 
order, weeds and briars were destroyed, fields fertilized, 
waste places enriched, washes filled up, fences were 
straightened and put in order with as much care as if 
he had been a modern political aspirant for return to 
office. His vigilance was ceaseless, his eyes everywhere, 
he was constantly on the alert to see if he could add 
something to the beauty of his farm or its fertility. He 
took especial interest in the breeding of thoroughbred 
cattle, horses and sheep. His farm was stocked with the 
purest strains of stock. He was thought to be, by very 
competent judges, the best authority on the pedigrees of 
Durham cattle in Kentuck3\ As a judge of horses he 
had few superiors. Under a nom de plume, he wrote 
many highly interesting and able articles for the leading 
agricultural and stock papers of his State. Numbers of 
them attracting so much attention that they were copied 
by every prominent journal of the kind in the United 
States. He had liberal offers from several editors of stock 
papers to become a paid correspondent, but refused them 
all, and only wrote as a pastime to give the public the 
benefit of what he knew. 

In the midst of a multiplicity of cares he found time 
to take an interest in whatever promised to promote the 
welfare of his community. He was a public spirited 
citizen, an advocate of better schools and a promoter of 



beWis (;on^ress. ♦ ♦ 49 



-charities. Although taking no prominent part in politics, 
yet he luid pronounced political views. In his early life 
he was a Jeffersonian Democrat, and an earnest supporter 
and admirer of Gen. Jackson. In 1S55 he left the 
Democratic organization and gave his adherence to the 
Native American Party. In the Presidential Campaign of 
1860 he voted for Bell and Everett. He was a firm believ- 
er in State Rights, and from the beginning was in full sym- 
pathy with the South in the troubles that led to the Civil 
War, and with heart and soul espoused the cause of his 
native State, Virginia, and of the Confederacy. He was fre- 
quently in danger of arrest by the Federal Military author- 
ities in Kentuck}^, and after the invasion of the State by 
Gen. Bragg, in 1862, he felt that it would not be safe for 
him to remain after the retreat of the Confederate Army. 
With his son. Waller H. Lewis, he went South and remained 
several months. Being assured of protection b}' some in- 
fluential friends who adhered to the Union cause, he was 
permitted to return to his home unmolested. On his way 
back to Kentucky from the South he had to pass through 
Fentress count}', Tennessee, the home and retreat of the 
famous bush whacker, Champ Ferguson. He and his party, 
■consisting of his son and two friends, fell into the hands 
of this outlaw and no doubt would have been robbed or 
murdered, had it not been for a letter and a pass from Gen. 
John C. Breckinridge, and some shrewd diplomacy on the 
part of Cadwallader Lewis, he being spokesman for the 
company. 

But perhaps Cadwallader Lewis was seen best in his 
country home, surrounded by his family and friends. No 
man was ever more attached to his home or extended a more 
unbounded hospitality. Home and friends were more than 



50 ♦ ♦ beWis (;on^rGSs. 



all else on earth to him. He loved the country, the forests, 
the fields, the hills, the valleys, the landscape, the streams, 
the sunset, all delighted his soul and were sources of in- 
spiration to him. When at home he was never idle, he 
worked with head and hand. There was no end to his 
reading; he read history, poetry, the current literature of 
the day, religious literature, studied much, and kept a diary 
of every day in the 3^ear. He was not a voluminous writer, 
was the author of no books, yet he wrote frequently for the- 
religious and secular papers. 

His writings clearly show him to be one of the clearest 
thinkers and most logical writers of his day. 

Besides all this, he cultivated flowers, made improve- 
ments about his place, overlooked his stock, consulted and 
advised his sons about their farm work. 

It was remarkable how he retained his knowledge of the 
classics and mathematics. To the da}'^ of his death he 
could translate Latin easily and fluently, Avas a good Greek 
scholar, and as a mathematician he had few equals. He 
seemed to have an especial talent for this science. He 
could solve rapidly in his head the most intricate problems. 
He was a modest man, in honor always preferring others. 
There is nothing found among his papers which savors the 
least of egotism, never speaking of himself, or of what he 
had done. Howard College, Alabama, conferred the degree 
of LL. D. upon him. Among his papers was found a 
letter declining the degree, on the ground that he did not 
feel worthy of it. This degree he said "should not be con- 
ferred except upon the erudite, I do not feel that I am en- 
titled to it." AVhether he ever sent this letter to the board 
of the college I do not know, but he certainly contem- 
plated doing so. Unceasing toil at last began to tell on his. 



♦ ♦ l9G\A)is (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 51 

■naturally frail constitution. About five years before his death 
his health became exceedingly delicate. Rarely in bed but 
never well, his face indicated that he was a sufferer. His 
old enemy, dyspepsia, which was really his life-long "thorn 
in tbe flesh," gave him constant discomfort. His nervous 
system deepl}' sympathized, and his heart gave undoubted 
evidence of disease. It soon became apparent that he had 
organic disease of the heart, and he v/as so informed by his 
physician. He was not the least perturbed, but said he knew 
he was approaching the end. He had a dread of a lingering 
illness, and often expressed himself as being anxious to 
die quickly. Notwithstanding his delicate health, and con- 
trary to the advice of his physician and earnest protest of 
his family, he persisted in filling his regular appointments. 
He frequently fell exhausted in the pulpit. He very often 
preached sitting in a chair. He said he would die W'ith his 
armour on. On April 22, 1882, he bid farew'ell to his 
loved ones and left his home, never to return in life again. 
He left, as he frequentl}^ did, on Saturday, to visit one of 
his members, Mr. Macolm Thompson, of the Mount Vernon 
Church, who lives near Payne's Depot, in Scott county, 
Kentucky, expecting to spend the night with him, and the 
following Sabbath to fill his appointment to preach at his 
church. He arrived that afternoon, spent the evening with 
the family, was exceedingly cheerful and agreeable, re- 
tired to his room about nine o'clock; at ten he felt very 
badly, called the family and gave them some directions as 
to what to do for relief for his oppression, but before they 
could do anything he fell back gasping for breath, and in a 
moment the spirit of Cadwallader Lewis had returned to 
the God who gave it. On a table by his bedside were 
found the notes of the sermon he expected to preach from 



52 ♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 

the next da}^ at Mount Vernon. The text was, "The last 
enemy that shall be destroyed is death" — 1 Corinthians, 
15-26 — and the closing hymn which he had selected was, 
"Asleep in Jesus." His funeral was preached at Provi- 
dence church, in Franklin county, by his life-long and de- 
voted friend. Dr. Wm. M. Pratt, from the text "Devout 
men carried Stephen to his burial, and made great lamen- 
tation over him." He was buried in the cemetery at 
Frankfort, Kentucky, and tlius ended, at the age of 71 
years, the useful and eventful life of Cadwallader Lewis,, 
the loving husband, the affectionate father, the faithful 
minister, the upright citizen. The writer feels that it 
would not be inappropriate to close this paper by giving a 
few quotatio!]s from the many things which others said of 
him after his death. 

"Thus passed from our midst one who filled a most im- 
portant position in all the relations of life. Devoted as a, 
father, beloved as a minister, he was esteemed by all as a 
friend and neighbor. 

"A great man has gone from the earth. A truer man I 
have never known." A. B. Miller. 

"In physic he was lofty, erect and active. His sharply 
defined features and his penetrating eye bespoke the vigor 
and decision of the man. He was fearless in spirit, honest 
in convictions and aggressive in nature. He was a 
thorough and devoted Baptist, and he was alw^ays ready to- 
enter the arena of debate to defend our j)rinciples. His- 
skill as a controversialist was of high order, and his ad- 
versaries found him hard to handle. His pen w^as ready 
and wielded with great valor for the truth." 

"He was a preacher of real ability. He was easy !»■ 
utterance, clear in statement, right in illustration and fer- 



♦ ♦ beWis (;on^ress. ♦ ♦ 53 

vent ill delivery. He was a faithful pastor and enjoyed in 
a high degree the confidence and admiration of his people. 
By birth, association and principle, Dr. Lewis was a gentle- 
man. His christian character was exalted, spotless, 
mighty for good." 

"A mind naturally strong and clear, thoroughly trained, 
enabled him to grapple with and apprehend thoroughly 
the most difficult theological questions; a memory stored 
with the rich treasures of ancient and modern learning — a 
glowing imagination that clothed even the dryest subjects 
with beautiful and charming imagery, a courage that never 
hesitated in the discharge of duty — a heart peculiarly 
sympathetic, and ever affected by the sorrows of suffering 
humanity, were all fully and entirely consecrated to the 
promotion of the cause and extension of the kingdom of 
Christ upon earth." 



Vijeorge \^ythe jewii 



— ..<..-^^.<t,. 



BY HIS SON GEO. A. LEWIS. 




EORGE WYTHE 

Lewis was the second 
son of John and 
Jean Wood Lewis and was 
born at the old family home- 
stead, Llangollen, in Spotsyl- 
vania county, Virginia, on 
the 9th da}^ of February, 
L815. His boyhood was 
spent upon the farm in the 
Old Dominion, and those 
years constituted a bright 
spot in his memory, as he always spoke of his old home 
there with the greatest affection, and nothing gave him 
more pleasure than several visits to the scenes of his child- 
hood in after years. His smallness of statue and spare 
build seems to have been a cross to him when a lad, for he 
once told the writer how greatly offended he became at his 
uncle, Dr. Richmond Lewis, of Brecknock, when, on one 
•occasion he was riding behind his father on horseback, 
they met that gentleman on the road, and stopping for a 
short conversation his uncle did not at first discover his 
presence, but when he did exclaimed: "Why, Master 
■George, I thought your leg, protruding from under your 



loeWiS (;on|rGss. ♦ ♦ 55 



father's coat tail, was his umbrella staff." As a little fellow 
he became interested in the genealogy of his family and in 
the pursuit of light on the subject asked some odd ques- 
tions of his parents. On one occasion he said to his 
father, "If Uncle Richmond's black mare, Sally Tally, 
was your black horse, would that make Uncle Richmond 
ni}'^ pa?" 

He never enjoyed the privilege of a collegiate course but 
received from his father, who was one of the best instruct- 
ors of the young in his day, a thorough and comprehensive 
education, and, like all of his family, was a constant reader 
and kept fully up witli the literature of his day — employ- 
ing his leisure moments during the di\y and by his own 
fireside at night with some new book or recent periodical — 
■and at the time of his death had accumulated quite a large 
library of choice works. 

When the subject of this sketch was fifteen years of age 
liis father removed to Kentucky, settling first at George- 
town and then removing to a farm near Woodlake, in Frank- 
lin county. A few years after coming to Kentucky, George 
Wythe Lewis left home to make his way in the world. Go- 
ing to Frankfort, he entered the dry goods store of Addison 
S. Parker, the leading merchant of the place, where he re- 
mained for several years. Having taken a deep inter- 
est in politics, he became indignant at his employer's 
objecting to his defending the party to which he belonged 
when charges were made against it by members of the 
opposite party who congregated in the store, and informed 
that gentleman that he was a free man, allowed no man to 
■do his thinking for him and claimed the right to give ex- 
pression to the opinions he might entertain on any and all 
occasions, and that his position miglit be considered vacant 



56 



beWis (^on^ress. 



at once — tluis exhibiting/ that independence of spirit which 
was characteristic of him througli life. 

After clerking for a year or more in the stores of John 
L. Moore and Russell & Sneed, he became connected with 
the Frankfort Commonwealth in the capacity of reporter 
during the sessions of the Legislature and traveling rep- 
resentative of the paper during the summer. Later he 
went into the confectionery business, but had the misfor- 
fortune to be twice burned out and was thus financially 
ruined. Removing his famil}' to the country, he engaged 
in various pursuits — for a s]iort time taking up the calling 
of his father, tliat of a teacher — but in 1853 was offered 
the position of casliier for his brotlier-in-law, Col. A. G. 
Hodges, then Public Printer and publisher of the Frank- 
fort Commonwealth, which position he accepted and re- 
turned to Frankfort to reside. In this new situation he 
found occasion to use liis pen in editorial work — ivriting- 
much for the Commonwealth and also having editorial 
charge of the Kentucky Farmer. 

In the spring of 1864 he and his oldest son, .Joseph B. 
Lewis, purchased a printing office in Lexington, Kentucky, 
wdiere they established a paper called the National Un- 
ionist, which enlarged his field for literary work. He 
wrote in a vigorous and emphatic style, being a man of 
strong convictions and earnest in the advocacy of them,, 
and was rapidly taking rank with the leading wu^itors of his 
da}' when his health failed. His constitution, which was 
never robust, gave way under the strain of constant work 
and the excitement of the times, and the star of his desti- 
ny, so rapidly ascending in the horizon of life, disappeared 
in the gloom of death. 

When a child in Virginia, his nurse allowed him to get 
possession of some Palma Christi beans, which he ate, and 



beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 57 



from the effects of which he narrowly escaped death at the 
time and was ever after a sufferer in the summer season. Of 
slight build, highly nervous temperament and delicate con- 
stitution, he could hardly be said to enjoy perfect health at 
any time for years before his death, though seldom confined 
to bed. After a lingering illness at his home in Lexington, 
in the summer of 1865, from which he had only partially- 
recovered, upon the advice of his physician he started to 
Crab Orchard Springs in hopes that the water there would 
bring that I'elief which medicine had failed to afford. Ac- 
companied by his pastor and friend. Rev. Joel K. Lyle, he 
traveled in a private conversance and by easy stages, but 
when Danville was reached he was so much exhausted that 
an invitation from the Rev. Dr. Stephen Yerkes to spend 
the night at his liome was accepted with the expectation 
that on the morrow he would be sufficiently refreshed to 
pursue his journey. But when morning came he had 
grown rapidly worse, and a physician called in during the 
night had told Rev. Mr. Lyle the end was near. His fam- 
ily was immediately notified and his devoted wife and 
third son, John Franklin, went to his bedside. He calmly 
and peacefully passed away on the 19th of July, in the 51st 
year of his age — a few days after his arrival in Danville. 
When told by his pliysician that he could not live, the only 
regret expressed was at leaving his famil}^ and turning to 
Mr. Lyle he said:. "Bisliop, you are my spiritual adviser 
and I need 3'our advice more now than ever." His last 
words being "If I only had the strength I would shout. "^ 
His remains were taken to Frankfort and laid beside his 
second son, William Todd — the funeral being in charge of 
the Masonic fraternity, of which he had long been a member. 
Old Aunt Fannie, who had been a faithful servant in the- 



:58 ♦ ♦ IseWis ^on|rGss. 



family for years, seemed endowed with prophetic vision 
when, seeing Mr. Lewis depart for Crab Orchard, she re- 
marked : " Dar now; de boss done gone awa' fum liome 
■sick, and I don't never 'spec ter see him come home 'live 
agin." Dear old soul, with a black skin and Christian 
heart, she, too, has crossed the dark river and sleeps in 
the "city upon the hill." 

While George Wythe Lewis was stern and unyielding in 
his opinions, he was as gentle and tender-hearted as a 
woman in all matters of the affections and amenities of 
life. While differing from his family politically and 
estranged from almost every relative he had by the un- 
happy war between the sections — he being a staunch 
Union man while all the rest were in the Confederate army 
or sympathized with the South — that love of kindred and 
inborn affection every Virginian has for his native State 
burned as brightly in his heart up to the date of his death 
as when he first crossed the mountains to make his home 
in the Blue Grass country. Firm in his integrity, rigid in 
his determination to follow what he thought was right, he 
was the material of which martyrs are made. Those who 
knew -him best loved him most, and his children delight to 
honor his memory. 

On September 15th, 1840, he was married to Miss Mary J. 
'Todd, of Frankfort — an earnest Christian lady, who since 
fourteen years of age had been a rii ember of the PresbV' 
terian Church. Shortly before their marriage he too united 
with that church and was ever after a prominent member, 
becoming a ruling elder and being elected once or twice to 
represent his Presbytery in the General Assembly of the 
United States. The result of his marriage was four sons. 
His beloved wife still lives with the children of her eldest 



beWis (;or\|ress. ♦ ♦ 59. 



son (whom she raised after the death of their mother) in 
Bellepoint, a suburb of Frankfort. The record of their 
children is as follows: 

1. Joseph Bullock, born July 16, 1841; wa^ twice mar- 
ried, his first wife being Miss Ernma C. Abbett, a first 
cousin of ex-Gov. Laon Abb3tt, of . New Jerse}'", and a 
daughter of Rev. William McD. Abbett, a Methodist min- 
ister. They had four children, viz : Margaret Abbett, born 
August 1-1, 1865; William Abbett, born December 5, 1870; 
George W3'the, born March 13, 1875; a little daughter, 
born February, 1879, lived but a few hours. Margaret and 
Will, live in Bellepoint, near Frankfort — the former being 
a teacher by profession and the latter business manager 
and book-keeper in the Frankfort Roundabout office — while' 
George Wythe is individual book-keeper in the Bank of 
Kentucky at Louisville. Jos. B. Lewis's second marriage 
was with Miss Keturah Thornton, of Versailles, and the 
result was two sons, viz: Mar3'on Todd, born October 12, 
1885, and Alexander Thornton, born May 6, 1887. He 
lives with his wife and two youngest children in Versailles. 

2. William Todd, born April 29, 1843; died July, 1844. 

3. John Franklin, born November 9, 1844; married Miss 
Mary Sneed, of Frankfort, and has three sons, viz: James 
Sneed, born April 30, 1879; John Wythe, born March 24, 
1881, and AVilliam Herndon, born January' 2, 1883. He 
lives in Louisville, \vhere he has been cashier of the Union 
Cement and Lime Company for twenty odd years. 

4. George Alexander, born June 24, 1846; married Miss 
Alice Giltner, of Frankfort, but has no children. Lives in 
Frankfort, where he is engaged in the printing business — 
editing and publishing the Frankfort Roundabout and 
publishing the Kentucky Law Reporter. 



J)r. and lV|rs. \ \ ^tteson. 



BY THEIR SOX WALTER L. PATTESOX. 

" No etream from its source 
Flows seaward, how lonely soever its course, 
But some land is gladdened; no star ever rose 
And set without influence somewhere ; no life 
Can be pure in its purpose and strong in its strife 
And all life not be made purer and stronger thereby." 

ERY little history is written on tombstones or in 
books. In fact, we might even say that all of it that 
is worth saving is written in human hearts and lives. I 
might say in the beginning of this sketch that Jean Wood 
Lewis was born, married, died, and give the places and 
dates, or as far as any real interest attaches to the places 
and dates apart from their ^connection with other things, I 
might leave them out entirely. But there are those in the 
world to-day to whom tliat name is a talisman and to whom 
the memory of her life is a constant benediction. It is not 
my purpose here to enter into those matters that are cate- 
gorical or purely biographical, but will append hereto what 
is far more interesting than anything I could myself write 
— a brief and characteristic autobiographical sketch which 
she wrote for one of her children, and with it also a simi- 
lar one written by my father, both of which are priceless 
treasures to their children. It will rather be my task to 
attempt, as best I may, to tell of her as I knew her and try 
to convey some idea of those qualities in her which made 



beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ ei 



her beloved and wliich gjive her such potent influence over 
all lives which cMme in contact with her's. 

Rarely intellii2;ent and gifted with a mental organism 
that responded promptly to every demand made upon it, 
she took an enthusiastic interest in all subjects which 
might engage the best thouglits of m inkind. She was an 
incessant and intelligent reader and a close observer, so 
that whenever occasion arose she showed herself thorough- 
ly informed, and yet the charm of her manner was its per- 
fect simplicity and freedom from self-assertion. Not only 
was she well informed on many subjects, but she possessed 
the rare gift of imparting information in such a manner 
that the recipient was instructed without being made pain- 
fully conscious of her superiority or his own ignorance. 
She was especially happy in her ability to amuse and in- 
struct children, and had an inexhaustible fund of stories 
drawn from history, mythology, folklore, fiction and Holy 
Writ, upon which she drew for our delectation, and of 
which we children never tired. Her manner of telling 
them was inimitable. We would gather about her of even- 
ings and listen for hours at a time, often demanding a rep- 
etition of some favorite story or listening with delight to 
some new one that had been called to mind by a chance 
remark or some event of the day. Our first knowledge of 
the Scriptures was gained in this way, and the historic 
characters of the Old Testament became familiar to us 
long before we could read, while the sweet story of Bethle- 
hem, the words and works of the Savior of mankind, and 
the tragedy of Calvary, which crowned the great work of 
man's redemption, sank deep into our young hearts, and 
the lessons implanted there bore rich spiritual fruits in the 
years that followed. Oftentimes she told us of her child- 



62 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 

hood ill Old Virginia, and these stories had a peculiar- 
charm for us. The places, the persons and the incidents so- 
often pictured in Avords became impressed upon our 
memories and begot in us a love for them because she 
loved them, and in this way she held up to us the honor- 
able examples of honorable ancestors and impressed upon 
us the lesson that we, who had as our natural heritage an 
unstained name and virtuous principles, could not afford to 
bring dishonor upon that name nor barter those principles 
for any mere personal gratilication or worldly advantage. 
Her's was a peculiarly serene and amiable nature, as dear- 
old Herrick has expressed it — 

"A happy soul that all the way 
To heaven hath a summer day." 

She seemed to have thoroughly mastered the art of 
making the best of her surroundings and properly valuing 
and enjoying the little things of life. She saw something 
to interest and instruct in the meanest weed that grew by 
the roadside as well as in the grandest triumph of science 
or art. Whether she went for a walk in the field or a jour- 
ney to a distant city, she returned home richer in knowl- 
edge and thought and with some new wonder to unfold to 
us. We used to say that she saw everything, and we would 
listen with the keenest interest while she told of what she 
had seen in a day's visit to the cit}^ or some place in the 
neighborhood and commented in her quaint and original 
manner upon it. Her sense of humor was keen, and her 
relation of her experiences, -while it often jDrovoked our 
merriment, never savored of ill nature or unworthy ridi- 
cule. Always just, always charitable, she avoided the ap- 
pearance of unkindness or thoughtlessness in her treat- 
ment of the ignorant or the unfortunate. If people were: 



IseWis (;on^rGss. 



63 



weak or wicked, she always tried to find some excuse or 
palliating circumstance to fit eacti particular case without 
countenancing or excusing the act committed. I have 
ofcen seen her indignant over some act of meanness, but 
never angry, never vindictive. Always pitifnl, always 
ready, as she said, "to give the advantage of the doubt." 
It was this that made it so easy for an erring child to come 
to her and confess its wrong-doing, to be forgiven for the 
sin, pitied for the weakness and strengthened by gentle 
counsel against future temptation. And then she alu'a3\s 
trusted us. She would s;iy, "My boy would not tell me a 
lie," or "I can trust my girl." She would never demand 
our confidence, but always seemed to aAvait it as a matter of 
course, and we could not help telling her our secrets, 
because we felt somehow that we owed her this return for 
her unswerving loyalty to us. Her unshaken faith in us 
m\d her readiness to defend us at all times against asper- 
sion or blame gave us self-respect and made us loth to do 
that which we felt would not bear her inspection. Her 
love of the beautiful and her habit of observation made 
her a close student of nature. She loved everything that 
grew beneath the sun, and our first lessons in botany, 
zoology and other natural sciences were learned when she 
told us of the wild flowers that covered the grand prairies 
or dotted the woodland of our beautiful State, or explained 
to us the habits of the birds and animals that we saw in 
our daily walks. She was quite proficient in music, and 
although an attack of bronchitis had almost destroyed her 
voice shortly after coming to Dlinois, w^e children loved to 
have her sing to us the quaint old ballads she knew so well 
and accompany my father on a piano wdiile he played the 
violin or flute. At sixty years of age she played with re- 



64 ♦ * beWis (Jon|ress. 



markable accuracy and expression. In fact her memory 
was most remarkable. She never grew old, so far as fail- 
ure of mental power was concerned. Her mind never lost 
its activity. Nothing pleased her better than to be called 
upon by her children to assist them in their studies. A 
knotty problem in algebra or geometry, or a peculiarly 
difficult bit of translation from the f.lassics, would put her 
on her mettle, and she never would give up until she had mas- 
tered the matter in hand, for back of her qui^t equanimity 
was as strong a determination as ever nerved a hero or a 
martyr. It was wonderful how amid the quiet and retired 
surroundings of a country home, and the crude civiliza- 
tion of a newly settled country, she ket)t her faculties alert 
and her mind bright, never losing but always growing 
and expanding, keeping abreast of the literature and 
thought of the time, and always retaining the sweet sim- 
plicjty and modesty and the innate shrinking from pub- 
licity which no contact with the world could ever obscure 
or destroy. Her conversation was always charming be- 
cause she had tliat "excellent thing in woman," a voice 
sweet and low, and never do I remember to have heard it 
raised in harsh tones of anger or unreasoning controversy. 
She could conduct an argument earnestly and enthusiasti- 
cally, but a quarrel, never. She would never lose control 
of her temper. I have seen her under the most trying 
circumstances exhibit a self-control that seemed to me 
well-nigh miraculous. It is the sweetest memor}^ we 
have that we never heard a harsh word from her lips. She 
was not naturally demonstrative, but her gentle and lender 
nature was rich in affection that somehow made itself felt 
rather than seen. We knew that our mother's love was 
around and about us, protecting and uplifting and strength- 



♦, ♦ loeWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 65 

eiiing us for the battles of life, and the memory of her 
counsel was an ever-present safeguard. She held fast to 
us through her sympathy with all our hopes and Avorks 
and never allowed us to drift away from her. She was 
not alone a good mother; she was our wise counsellor, our 
firm friend, our strong leader, and our merry companion 
and play-mate, constant alike in joy and sorrow. It is 
hard to write these things, as they are impressed on my 
mind. Language does not rightly express them. A life 
like hers, so quiet and uneventful, and yet so rich in its 
fruitage, truly, as I said in the beginning, writes its his- 
tory in hearts and lives, and not in books. We who knew 
her best, and who, as life goes on, are learning to know 
her better, and more and more to appreciat<e the beauty 
and completeness of her character and her life of loving 
sacrifice in our behalf, have no words that to us seem fit to 
tell her life-story. She was pure and gentle and tender, 
and noble and strong, always doing and thinking for others, 
seldom taking thought of self, happy in the enjoyment of 
all the good things of earth, patient under the most severe 
and constant saft'ering, and unswerving in her adherence 
to right. And so she lived, and so she died, for after a day of 
simple pleasure, in the company of loved ones, she lay down 
quietly upon her bed to awake no more on earth. She had 
often expressed a wish that she could pass away quietly in 
her sleep, and this wish, in God's good providence, was 
gratified. Heavily as the blow fell upon our hearts, Ave 
could not wish that it had been otherwise. It seemed to 
us rather transition than death, and so it seems to us still. 
We cannot lose her out of our lives, for the words she 
spoke and the deeds she did come back to us like so many 
messages from bevond the grave to tell us that death does 



66 ♦ ♦ beWis (^on^rGss. ♦ ♦ 

not end all, and that we sliall see her again. AVe cannot 
but feel tliat her loving eye is still upon us and her firm, 
loving hand still leading us ever as in childhood; that she 
is still watching over us, approving and rejoicing in our 
successes, making allowance for our weaknesses and fail- 
ures. I am often reminded of what Tennyson has said in 
his matchless elegy "In Memoriam:" 

"Do we indeed desire the dead 

Should still be near us at our side? 
lo there no baseness we would hide, 
No inner vileness that we dread? 

" Should he for whose applause I strove— 
I had such reverence for his blame — 
See with clear eyes some hidden shame. 
And I be lessened in his love ? 

"I wrong the grave with fears untrue. 

Shall love be blamed for want of faith? 
There must be wisdom with great death ; 
The dead shall look me through and through. 

*'Be near us when we climb or fall ; 

Ye watch like God the rolling hours 
With larger, other eyes than ours. 
To make allowance for us all." 

I append below a short sketch written by my mother of 
her life. It is plainly but a skeleton upon which she ex- 
pected to build a fuller narrative, but in itself it is charac- 
teristic in its simple statement of actual facts, with no 
attempt at display. I also add an autobiography of my 
father, which also deals only with a few important facts, 
because I believe that any sketch that included one without 
the other would be incomplete. Theirs was a true mar- 
riage of hearts and hands. Their lives were truly one, and 



loeWis ^on|ress. ♦ ♦ • gy 



their characters were so nicel}^ adjusted as to supplement 
each other at every point. In their tastes they were per- 
fectly congenial; in their temperament totally opposite; the 
one calm, sedate, equable ; the other all fire, energy and 
action. I cannot forbear, in introducing the autobiogra- 
phy of my father to pay a tribute, however brief, to his 
memory. He was, as I have said, a complete anti-type of 
my mother; and yet in their unswerving loyalty to a high 
standard of right and duty, and the fidelity with which 
they fulfilled all obligations of life, they were as one. My 
father's nature was naturally impetuous, and his whole 
frame, mental and physical, endowed with a nervous 
energy that was untiring. He was sensitive and proud to 
an unusual degree, generous to a fault, and the soul of 
honor. He had a horror of any kind of littleness, and 
meanness had no place in his composition. His hospi- 
tality was large and free, and extended not only to the 
chosen guests beneath his roof, but to the lowliest way- 
farer that craved a meal or a night's lodging. He Avas a 
gentleman of the old school, courteous, kindly, and full of 
good will toward all mankind. His liome to him was his 
castle, and like the knightly castles of old it was a refuge 
for all who sought it. His charities were many. In the 
practice of his profession he made no distinction between 
rich and poor, and I have known him to give not only his 
valuable time and services unstintedly in cases where 
there was no hope of remuneration, but to supply the 
means of subsistence to many a poor family through long 
weeks when the bread-winner lay stricken with disease. 
He was most conscientious in the discharge of all religious 
duties, and in all matters of public interest he was a valua- 
ble factor in the community. Thoroughly devoted to the 



68 ♦ * beWis (;on|rGss. 



political principles which he held and always ready to in- 
telligently defend his position, he was often called to take a 
leading part in political matters, but he never degenerated 
into a mere politician, nor strove after office. His neigh- 
bors trusted him and sought his advice in all kinds of af- 
fairs, and his influence was felt throughout the community. 
He was always diligent to assist in good works and per- 
fectl}'' fearless ir denouncing and combating wrong. He 
held his honor above price, and his life was a living ex- 
emplification of his favorite maxim, "Do justice, love 
mercy, and walk humbly before God." He loved his 
books and his home above everything, and in the quiet 
pursuits of home life found his highest happiness. He 
w^as the most genial and companionable of men, full of odd 
humor that bubbled up and effervesced constantly in his 
conversation, with an inexhaustible fund of anecdotes and 
a lively sense of the ridiculous that made him truly a 
laughing philosopher. At the same time he posse'ssed one 
of the most sensitive natures that I have ever known, and 
many things that would seem trivial to a more common 
nature caused him the keenest suffering. We children 
loved him at first because he was so joJly and kind, so 
ready to join in our pranks, but we never lost a whit of our 
respect for him on that account. There was something 
about him that compelled respect, and he would not brook 
disobedience nor dereliction in dut}'. As we grew older 
we learned to appreciate him more and more at his true 
worth, and now that Ave have come to manhood and woman- 
hood and have ourselves felt the responsibility of the pa- 
rential relation, we thank the good fortune that brightened 
our childhood with his genial companionship and strength- 
ened our characters and prepared us for the struggle of 



beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 69 



life through his precept and example. He was a good 
physician, a good citizen, a good husband, a good father, 
and tiiroughout liis whole life he "bore without reproach 
the grand old name of gentleman." Can I say more ? I 
have presented here a very imperfect idea of my parents 
as I remember them. They are gone from me now, yet I 
cannot say that they are lost to me. With them have gone 
others, sisters, brothers and one little soul whose short ex- 
istence liere on earth made him seem but a messenger 
sent from beyond the dark river to bring back to us a mes- 
•sage of love and promise. We who are left behind, while 
we sorrow, yet rejoice, for they left us with memories and 
hopes that bring smiles to chase away the tears, and we can 
truly say, as we lay our wreaths of memory upon the 
green mounds that hide their mortal dust, "Blessed are the 
<lead which die in the Lord from henceforth; yea, saitli the 
spirit, for they rest from their labors and their Avorks do 
follow them." 

My mother died on the loth of November, 1886, and my 
father on the first of December, 1889. He never recovered 
from the shock of her death, although he bore his grief 
with Cliristian resignation and manly fortitude. His death 
was also somewhat sudden, his last illness lasting but a day 
or two. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JEAN WOOD PATTESOX. 

I, Jean Wood Patteson, the fourth daughter and seventh 
child of John Lewis, was born on the 22d of September, 
1822, at Llangollen, in Spotsylvania county, Virginia. In 
September of 1832, when I was ten years old, my father 
moved to Georgetown, Scott county, Kentucky, where, with 
his brother. Rev. Addison M. Lewis, he had charge of a 



70 ♦ ♦ be\A)is (Jon^ress. ♦ 

large female academy. He lived in Georgetown nearly 
three 3'ears and then removed to a farm on Elkhorn, in 
Franklin county, about six miles from Frankfort, on the 
Georgetown and Frankfort turnpike. This place he named 
Llangollen, after his former residence in A^irginia. Here 
he taught a private school, which I attended until I was- 
about sixteen years old. At the age of eighteen and a 
half, I was married on the evening of the 24th of February,. 
1841, to Alexander Augustus Patteson, who lived then at 
the Forks of Elkhorn, near my father's house. The cere- 
mony was performed by the Rev. Achilles DeGrasse Sears^ 
a minister of the Baptist denomination, and was the first 
marriage ceremony ever performed by him. 

John Lewis, my father, was ' the son of Col. Zachary 
Lewis, of Bel-air, Spotsylvania county, Virginia, who was. 
commissioned by Governor Dinwiddle at the same time 
with General Washington, and they were friends and at 
one time shared the same tent, and at parting exchanged 
swords. The sword given by Washington to my grand- 
father I have often seen, and my father at his death left 
it to his oldest grandson. Colonel Lewis married Anne 
Terrell, a lady of English descent, and they raised a large 
family, of whom my father was the third son. The founder 
of the Lewis family was Jean Louis, a French Huguenot, 
who fl.ed from persecution at the time of the revocation of 
the edict of Nantes and settled in Wales. He afterwards 
became famous as a military man under the Duke of Marl- 
borough and was made a field marshal and received tliQ^ 
titles of Earl Ligonia and Baron Inniskillen as a reward 
for his bravery. His descendents settled in Virginia, and 
were some of them known in Revolutionary times, one 
branch being connected by marriage with the family of 



♦ ♦ beWis (;ot\|ress. ♦ ♦ 71 

Washington. My father, John Lewis, married Jean Wood 
Daniel, a daughter of Travers Daniel, of Crow's Nest, on the 
Potomac river, in Stafford county, Virginia, who was a 
grandson of Hannah Ball, the sister of Mary, the mother 
of Washington, and on the other side was descended from 
Sir Peter Daniel, who was High Sheriff of London. Travers 
Daniel married Frances Moncure, the daughter of an 
Episcopal clergyman of Scotch descent, and they raised 
a large family of whom my mother was the youngest 
daughter. 

I am past fifty-eight years old, have lived a quiet, un- 
eventful, but mostly a happy life; have of course had some 
trials and difficulties to encounter, but have also had a great 
many blessings to be thankful for. 

I Signed] 

February 1, 18SL Jean W. Pattesox. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A. A. PATTESOX, M. D. 

At the request of my eldest son, Alexander Lilbourne 
Patteson, I undertake to write a brief sketch of the promi- 
nent incidents of my life, that my descendents may have 
some means of knowing who and what I have been and 
am. My name is Alexander Augustus Patteson. The 
reasons for my having so long and high-sounding a name 
are these: My father's name was Alexander. His first born 
son, who died at the age of six months, was named Augus- 
tus Alexander by my mother's f;ither, Devereaux Jarratt,. 
and when I came the name reversed was given to me in 
deference to the dear old grandfather. As stated, my 
father's name was Alexander, and my mother's Mary. 
They were familiarly called by intimate friends Aleck 
and Polly, there being no Molly nor Mamie in those 



72 ♦ ♦ IseWis (Jon^ress. 



days. I was born on the 13th day of May, 1818, at my 
father's home, called Clover Hill. After my father's death, 
which occurred on the 23;i of January, 1836, my mother 
and her children removed to Kentucky. A new county 
was formed from the counties of Prince Edward, Bucking- 
ham, Charlotte and Campbell, which new county was given 
the name of Appomattox from the fact that the Appomat- 
tox river takes its rise near the center. Clover Hill was 
selected for the site of the county seat. Appomattox 
Courthouse has become noted on account of the surrender 
of General Lee to the Federal army under General Grant 
in April, 1865, which was the virtual ending of what 
is called the War of the Rebellion. The terms of the sur- 
render were written in a house not two hundred yards 
from where I was born. 

My recollection is that Clover Hill was a V)eautiful place 
when it was our home, but I have no idea of its appear- 
ance since it has become a town, for I have not seen it 
since the summer of 1839, my last visit to the old home, I 
being eighteen years of age when it ceased to be my home. 
There is no spot on earth so dear to me as the home of my 
childhood, as the place of my birth. I have not seen it 
for over forty-two years, but no changes of time, seasons or 
places can ever obscure, much less efface, the scenes of my 
boyhood. (God keep my memory green.) 

My father was a just, a benevolent, an active, an indus- 
trious and prosperous man. Besides being liberal to his 
children in pecuniary matters, he was remarkably so in 
giving to benevolent causes and in feeding and clothing 
the destitute. He considered himself a steward of the mani- 
fold mercies of God. He also used his money liberally in 
educating his children. The longer I live the more deeply 



♦ beWis ^on^rGss. ♦ * 73 

and truly do I reverence the memory of my parents. In 
the month of September. 1834, I was sent to the University 
of Virginia, the institution which Thomas Jefferson was 
mainly instrumental in building and putting into opera- 
tion. I look over the ground now and Avonder that I did 
not value and appreciate far more highly the grand oppor- 
tunities afforded me by my connection with such a school 
as that was. I see now that I did not improve the gohlen 
hours as I ought, but spent much precious time unprofita- 
bly. I would say to -tliose young people who may chance 
to read this, remember you can never bring l)ack a moment 
that is gone. Do not put off till to-morrow what can be 
done to-day. There are so many enticements and tempta- 
tions to draw us away from duty tliat we are apt to let the 
opportunities slip by unimproveil, failing to realize the 
fact that we are trifling witli grand privileges that can 
never be presented again. Ilowevei", my university life 
was not all lost time. Far from it. Thei'e is much to be 
recalled that is a source of self-gratulation. I returned 
from the University in the summer of 1835, with the de- 
termination to take up the study of medicine. With mv 
father's reluclant consent I set about reading under the 
direction of Dr. William D. Christian, a gcMitleman thor- 
oughly educated in the science of medicine as well as in 
the highest branches of a liberal literary education. I soon 
learrjed to honor, reverence, respect and love this noble 
gentleman. Those sentiments towards him have abided and 
do remain unchanged and unabated, although I have not 
seen liim for more than forty-tvvo years. I shall never see 
him again in this life, for the Master hascalled for him and 
he has gone to his reward after a well-spent life of use- 
fulness. 



74 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 

I come now to an event in the history of the family at 
Clover Hill which caused great changes in our circum- 
stances. While I was at the University my father Avas 
attacked by inflammatory rheumatism, which confined 
him to his bed, inflicting great suffering all through the 
months of January, February, March and April of the year 
1835. During the summer he was able to visit the Vir- 
ginia Springs and returned in the early part of autumn 
somewhat improved, sufflcieutly so to build a hope on the 
part of his friends of his eventual recovery. But alas for 
humnn hope. He was stricken down by rheumatism of 
the heart early in the month of January, 1836, and breath- 
ed his last ou the morning of the 23d at 2 o'clock. I can 
look back to that morning with a clear recollection of the 
effect produced upon my mother and the rest of the large 
family at Clover Hill by this crowning disaster, the great- 
est of our lives. It was impossible to realize the fact that 
he who had been always our head, our support, our guide, 
our guard, was gone from us no more to return to this 
world. It was a terrible blow. The insatiate destroyer 
was not satisfied. He had invaded our happy home and 
"one would not suffice." Oar sister Mary, wlio for some 
time had been confined to her room with pulmonary con- 
sumption, followed our father to the unknown country in 
April of the same j^ear. Ours is the christian's consolation; 
"we sorrow not as those wlio have no hope." They died 
in the faith of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Our mother 
then determined to remove to Kentucky, where my eldest 
sister re ided, having married Mr. Robert P. Mills, of 
Franklin county, Kentucky. She accordingly, after a sale, 
by wagon and carriaga, took her. way across the Blue Ridge 
and Alleghaney Mountains, and arrived safely at her 



IseWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 75 

adopted home after about a month's travel. I preceded 
the family by about a month, le'viiig Clover Hill 011 the 
20th of October, 1836, and traveling by stage and steam- 
boat (u ) railroads then), arrived in Cincinnati, Ohio, on 
the 26th of the same month. By the advice of my pre- 
ceptor, Dr. Christian, who had in the meantime become 
my guardian as well as preceptor, I had selected Cincin- 
nati College in which to attend mv first course of medical 
lectures, and for this reason had gone West before the 
family. The Cincinnati College was presided over by Dr. 
McGuffy, who was distinguished as a teacher and author 
of school boolcs. He afterwards w^as elected President of 
the University of Virginia. The medical faculty of the 
Cincinnati College M'as composed of the following: Daniel 
Drake, Joseph Xash McDowell, John P. Harrison, Samuel 
D. Gross, Landon C. Rives, Wilhird Parker and William H. 
Rogers. We had a good school. At the close of the ses- 
sion of 1836 and '37 I joined my mother's family in Ken- 
tucky. In the fall succeeding, after a horseback trip 
alone to and from Virginia, I returned to Cincinnati, 
where I attended a second course of lectures, returning 
again to Kentucky in the spring of 1838. I did not be- 
come a candidate for graduation at this college for the 
reason that I was still under ag*^. After joining my friends 
in Kentucky again I determined to set up for practice and 
not attend a course until the winter of 1839 and '40, intend- 
ing to take a course in the hospitals of Paris and London 
before graduating, and went to Virginia in the spring of 
1839 to settle with the executor of my father's estate, 
Willis P. Bocock, preparatory to embarking for Europe 
sometime during the current summer. My friends in Vir- 
ginia united in dissuading me from this course, and taking 



76 ♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 

their advice I returiiod to Kentucky in the month of July, 
yiekling the more readily as there was a potent attraction 
in that direction, the nature of whicli may be made appar- 
ent in the course of tliis sketcli. On my return to Ken- 
tucky I concluded to visit Cincinnati. I did so and found 
that the Cincinnati College was to be discontinued. I 
then deterinined, my friends approving, to attend the lec- 
tures in Transylvania University, at Lexington, Kentucky, 
which stood higher than any medical institution in the 
West. I accordingly matriculated in Transylvania Uni- 
versity and graduated on the 14th day of March, 1840. 
The attraction mentioned al>ove proved so j^otent that I 
became engaged to be married to Miss Jean W. Lewis 
about the first of September, 1839, whicli contract was ful- 
filled on the 24th of February, 1841, nearly forty years 
ago. I went directl}' from Lexington to the Forks of Elk- 
horn, in Franklin county, Kentucky, where I entered im- 
mediately U[)on the practice of mediciire, l)oarding with 
my brother-in-law, Jacob Duiguid, who was living on my 
mother's farm at that place. My two brothers-in-law, 
Duiguid and R. P. Mills, owned the mills at that point. 
I tliink it proper just here to mention the names of my 
father's children, etc.: Susan Archer, married at Clover 
Hill Robert P. Mills and died in Louisiana; Mary Duiguid, 
died in Virginia ; Augustus Alexander, died at six months 
in Virginia ; Caroline Matilda, married Jacob Duiguid and 
died in Kentucky ; Alexander Augustus, married Jean 
Wood Lewis, living in Illinois ; Lucy Ann, married William 
Ogiivie and died in Louisiana ; Elizabeth Henry, married 
Cadwallader Lewis, lives in Kentucky ; Marion Smith, 
married Fannie Overton, lives in Illinois ; Claudius Oscar, 
died at six months in Virginia ; Maria Louisa, married 



IseWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 77 



Alexander Mills, lives in Tennessee. The above constitute 
my father's children. 

On the 24th of February, 1841, I was married at Llan- 
golh u, Kentucky, to Miss Jean Wood Lewis, with whom, as 
stated, I have lived most happily ever since. I believe 
that no one in all the wide world could have been a better 
wife and companion than she has been uniformly to me. 
And A'et we are entirely different in temper and disposition, 
as also in person. I continued after my marriage to live 
at Forks of Elkhorn until the end of the year, 1843, when 
we removed to a small farm, which I had purchased in 
Fayette county, Kentucky, five miles east of Lexington. 
While living at the Forks of Elkhorn our first child was 
born, on the 12th of ^larch, 1842, Augusta. In the same 
year I united with the Presbyterian Church at Frankfort, 
Kentucky. After our removal to Fayette county, about tiie 
year of 1847, my wife became a member of the Presby- 
terian Church, joining at Walnut Hill, to which church I 
had taken a letter from the Frankfort church. At this 
place we lived nearly three years, and it was here that our 
twins were born on the 12th of March, 1844. One of them 
lived biit a few hours ; the other, Jean Frances, is now the 
wife of Dr. J. L. Wilcox. Our eldest son, Alexander Lil- 
bourne, was also born at this place on the 20th of February, 
1846. We removed from tliis place to a house on the 
Richmond and Lexington Turnpike, two miles distant. We 
lived at this latter place seven years. Three children were 
born to us at this place, namely, Susan Archer, Marion 
Elizabeth and John Lswis. The last lived but five days, 
dying of trismus naseentium. While living at the Forks 
of Elkhorn I made a journey to the Green River country^ 
with the view of seeking a location, but failed to find any 



78 ♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 

better than I nlread}' had. It was while on this trip I saw 
that great natural curiosily, the Mammoth Cave of Ken- 
tucky. This trip was made in 1843. Anotlier journey 
was undertaken in 1851, while at the last mentioned place, 
to Texas. In tliis trip we rode about eight hundred miles on 
horseback. Texas was at that time thinly settled and offered 
but poor inducements to immigrants, so I concluded to 
abide awhile longer in Kentucky. Texas is undoubtedh^ a 
magnificent country, presenting many advantages, but at 
the time I was there those advantages were suited to per- 
sons fitted for pioneers, which was certainh'^ not my case. 

We continued to reside at this place from the first of the 
year 1847 to the end of the year 1853, when we made 
anotlier move to a place one mile distant on the same turn- 
pike, in the direction of Richmond, adjoining Walnut Hill 
Church and Female Academ.y. This ))lace was known by 
the name of the "Crawford Place." I purchased it from 
Rev. Dr. Bullock. So we had again a home of our own. 
It was a beautifully improved place, with all the advantages 
to be expected on a small jdace like that. We were well 
satisfied with the change. During all these ten or eleven 
years since leaving the Forks, my medical practice had 
been increasing steadily until I might now be siid to be 
well established in a good professional husin^^ss. I had 
many good influential friends and as much practice as I 
could do. About 1857 I made a tour through Illinois, 
which again unsettled me and brought on a fit of restless- 
ness which resulted in giving up my beautiful home, my 
numerous friends, my well established practice, etc., for 
that which I knew not of. While living at the "Crawford 
Place" two children more were born to us, Lucy Devereaux 
and Caroline Louisa, the former in 1854 and the latter in 



♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 79 

1857. Ill looking back I cannot now see clearly the 
reasons which induced me to give up my Kentucky home 
for one in Illinois. While living at the "Crawford Place," 
we had much enjoyment, having good society, good religi- 
ous privileges, living amidst an intelligent people, who 
were rich enough to have lei^^ure for social intercourse. I 
had no reason to complain of my business, for it yielded a 
sufficieiu support for my inci'easing family. But we were 
not willing to let well enough alone. We must needs break 
lip and leave all the pleasant tilings behind, and cast our 
fortunes upon new probabilities. And so it is often the 
■case that when a man makes he must turn around imme- 
-diatel}^ and mar. So it was we iM.illed up the stakes and 
emigrated to Sangpmon county, Illinois, arriving at the 
niace on which we have ever since lived on the morning 
of the 29th of November, 1858. I purchased the farm on 
which we now live soon after arriving here, intending to 
give up the practice of medicine and turn my attention 
entirely to farming. But it was not to be so. I was swon 
engaged as deeply as ever in the practice, which I contin- 
ued to carry on as well as farming until within a year, when 
I concluded to quit it and depend on farming alone for a 
livelihood. Xo one but a person who is actually engaged 
in the business can have any idea of the hardships inci- 
dent to the practice of medicine in this climate and among 
this people. The profession is a noble one, but scientific 
medi(dne is not appreciated by the people and not properly 
sustained. It is not to the credit of our people that super- 
stition should be preferred to science. In ^looking back 
over m}' life I conclude that it is generally in a man's 
power to make himself happy or miserable as he ma}'^ 
•choose. One of the greatest factors in the making up of 



80 ♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. 



character is the formation of habit. Let me, as a physi-^ 
cian, emphaticallv advise young men to abstain totally 
from the use of narcotic and alcoholic stimulants. The use 
of any article of the kind, for any length of time, not only 
forms a habit but creates a want in the system which is a 
source of immense danger in time and for eternity. Don't 
use tobacco. Don't use liquor (alcoholic). Don't use 
opium. Never use any kind of narcotic stimulants. In 
this I know I am right. As you value your soul and your 
body take my advice in this matter. I have come to the 
conclusion also that the strict performance of duty is not 
calculated to make a man popular. On the contrary it 
seems to be those who are generous at the expense of jus- 
tice that are popular. This, however, may be taken with a 
few grains of allowance, for deep down in the popular 
mind in enlightened society there is no doubt a just esti- 
mate of character. Nevertheless I say, "Love merc}^, do- 
justice and walk humbly before God." Be both just and 
generous, and not the latter at the expense of the former. 

After coming to Illinois we had three more children 
(sons) born to us, namely, Walter Lewis, born February 
11, 1859 ; Robert Mills, born December 18, 1861, and Rich- 
mond Cadwallader, born June 24, 1864. Thus the record 
is completed, nine living and three dead children, making 
a round dozen. At this present writing we can count six- 
teen living and two dead grandchildren. Five of our 
children are married, one son and four daughters. Since 
we have been living in Illinois we have pursued the even 
tenor of our way. We have had the usual vicissitudes — 
ups and downs, etc. — of life. We have had our trials, as our 
enjoyments; about the usual amount which go to make up 
the sum of human life as it appears. However, "the heart 



♦ ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 8i 

knowetli its own bitterne.'^s and a stranger internieddleth 
not with its joy." My wife and I are now in the decline of 
life, living mostly upon the reminiscenses of the past, and 
awaiting the will of the Father as to the future. 

My Grandfather Patteson's family consisted of four 
children, three sons and one daughter. His name was 
Littleberry Patteson. His sons were Lilbourne, Alexan- 
der and David Baily, and the daughter's name was Susan- 
nah. She married Wilson Brancli, wliic-ii branch of the 
family I have lost sight of. My father's grandfather's name 
was Obadiah, 

Our ancestor came from England to Virginia in early colo- 
nial times. Both of my grandfathers were soldiers in the 
war of the Revolution. My mother's father, Devereaux 
Jarratt, lived in (ioochland county, Virginia, on the James 
river, about forty miles above Richmond. He raised a 
large family of children. He Avas descended from Robert 
Jarratt, who was master of Jiorse or equerry on the staff of 
the Earl of Essex during his campaign in Ireland. Robert 
Devereaux was the Earl's name. When he returned to his 
home in England, Jarratt came with him and settled in 
London, where his two sons were born. They were both 
named for the Earl of Essex, the one Robert and the other 
Devereaux. They both em.'grated to ^"irginia. My grand- 
father was descended from one of these. I believe our an- 
cestors, as far back as we know, -were Protestants. The 
Pattesons were Baptists and the Jarretts Presbyterians. 
I have read an autobiography by Devereaux Jarratt, a 
cousin of my grandfather. He was an Episcopal minister 
of the Church of England. His case was an exception. 
He was a man distinguished for his piety and devotion to 
his profession. The book is lost. I might go on writing a 



82 ♦ ♦ IseWis (;on^ress. 



great deal more and narrate' many incidents of my life that 
I liave not so mucli as adverted to, for I have left out of this 
brief narrative many tilings which seem to me quite as im- 
portant as those here recorded. Hoping that what I have 
written may be satisfactory to those whom it ma\^ concern, 
I make my conge. 

[Signed] 

Alexander A. Patteson. 
Fairview, Curran To\ynship, Sangamon county, Illinois, 
February 8, 1881. 

P. S. — Nearly six years have elapsed since the foregoing 
was written, and in the providence of God 1 am still in the 
land of the living and able to resume this narrative, but 
under greatly different circumstances. As I put my pen to 
this paper a Hood of reflections and recollections crowd 
themselves upon me in such manner as almost to incapaci- 
tate me for intelligible expression. There is sorrow in my 
heart, there are tears in my eyes, but thank God there is 
submission to the will of my Heavenly Father and grati- 
tude to him for all his mercies bestowed upon me and 
mine. Nevertheless, why should I not grieve and weep 
and mourn for myself (not for her who has gone before) 
who am left alone and desolate in this cold world, it is true 
with many kind friends and mine and her dear children? 
Her place cannot be filled. All the world will fail to fill 
that void, On the 15th of November, 1886, at about ten 
o'clock at night, my beloved wife, with whom I had lived 
in peace and happiness more than forty and five years, after 
a day of apparent pleasure in the society of her children, 
husband and friends, and having performed ever}'^ duty, 
lay down on her bed and "fell on sleep" almost immedi- 



beWis ^or\^ress. ♦ ♦ 83 

atel}'. She liad been the subject of disease of the heart 
j??an3' years. Nevertheless, her decease at the time was un- 
expected and came upon me and her family as a terrible 
calamity. "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. 
Blessed be the name of the Lord." But I must go back in 
this sketch to the time at which I left off, something more 
than six years ago. There is not much to tell, for these 
last six years were in the main uneventful. However, there 
are no events in our own lives that are unimportant to our- 
selves, whatever they may appear to others. We no doubt 
often magnify them and imagine that they are of far greater 
consequence than they really are. All things in this world 
are in a degree relative or comparative. It would not do 
to compare my life witli one of adventure, associated with 
startling events, and yet to me it looks like something 
wonderful to breathe and see and hear and to be the recipi- 
ent of God's blessing. We continued t) reside in the same 
place until the 18th of March, 1885, when we removed to 
Springfield, Illinois, to a rented house on P'^ourth street, 
where we lived until the 24th of October of the same year. 
We went from Fourth street to Douglas Avenue, where I 
had purchased a home, and where we are at this present 
writing residing. My sons, Robert and Walter, with his 
wife, nee Mary Baker, and my daughter Lucy and myself, 
compose the household. I sold my farm before removing 
to this place. I am now engaged in no employment, no 
settled business, which I very much regret, but am ready to 
do good to others as opportunity may offer. During the 
time between the years 1881 and 1884 I carried on tiie farm, 
and when my sons left me and came to town I found the 
business unprofitable, and therefore sold the farm and came 
to reside here. I have now nine living; children and eighteen 



84 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. 



living grandchildren. I am nearly sixty-nine years of age. 
Whether I shall ever add anything more to this sketch of 
my life, God only knows. I have done many things I 
ought not to have done, and left undone manv things I 
ought to have done. I cannot go hack and repair any re- 
missness now. I can only hope and believe that my 
merciful Heavenly Father has forgiven my sins for my 
Redeemer's sake. So I have prayed and shall ever pay. 

[Signed] 

A. A, Pattesox. 
Douglas Avenue, West Springfield, Illinois, March 2, 
1887. 

A brief record of the descendents of Alexander A. and 
Jean Wood Patteson is as follows: 

Augusta, born March 12, 1812, was married November 
9, 1865, to -John J. Parkinson, of Sangamon county, Illinois, 
son of .James and Mahala Parkinson. Seven children were 
born to them — .John L3wis, born February 21, 1867, died 
January 23, 1871; (2) James Alexander, born October 12, 
1869, died Januarj^ 7, 1871; (3) Earnest Devereaux, born 
April 1, 1872; (4) William Bradford, born March 8, 1874; 
(5) Jean Wood, born April 10, 1876; (6) Augusta Mahala, 
born February 24, 1878; (7) John J., born July 19, 1879. 
John J. Parkinson died in June, 1883, and Augusta Park- 
inson, February 23, 1891. 

Jean Frances and Mary Jarratt, twins, bor'n March 12, 
1844; Mary Jarratt died on the day of her birth; Jean 
Frances was married November 9, 1865, to Dr. Josiah Lam- 
bert Wilcox, son of Ellis and Ann Lewis Wilcox, of San- 
gamon count}'. To them were born three children — 
Dwight, born June 2, 1867; Augustus Patteson, born July 
25, 1870; Ann Lewis, born February 25, 1872. 



beWis (Jon|ress. ♦ ♦ 85 



Susan Archer, born September 25, 1848, was married 
October 25, 1866, to Hani[)ton Gibson, son of Preston and 
Ann Gibson, of Sangamon county, Illinois, and four chil- 
dren were born to them. — Jean Wood, horn October 11, 
1867; Preston Alexander, born September 30, 1869; John 
Ervin, born May 23, 1873; Robert Travers, born March 12, 
1883. 

Alexander Lilbourne, born February 20, 1846, married 
September 26, 1872, to Helen Frances Robinson, daughter 
of Benjamin S. Robinson, M. D., and Sophronia (Earnest) 
Robinson; their children are Helen Augusta, born May 4, 
1873; Susan Earnest, born December 6, 1874; Mary Louisa, 
born October 6, 1877; Jean Wood, born March 1, 1889. 

Marion Elizabeth, born November .4, 1850, was married 
September 16, 1875, to Richard Peter Smith, son of Wil- 
liam C. and Rebecca Smith, of Sangamon county, and 
their children are Ethel Marion, born November 1, 1877; 
Howard Richard, born October 19, 1880, and Florence Pat- 
teson, born July 30, 1885. 

Lucy Devereaux, born May 25, 1854, is single. 

Walter Lewis, born February 11, 1859, married at Leaven- 
worth, Kansas, February 2, 1887, Mary Baker, daughter of 
John P. and Mary J. Baker; four children have been born 
to them — Mary Baker, born December 26, 1887; Walter 
Alexander, born August 31, 1889; Robert Todd, born De- 
cember 30, 1891, died April 10, 1891; Frances Wallace, 
born December 27, 1892. 

Robert Mills, born December 18, 1861, died November 
16, 1893. 

Richmond Cadwallader, born June 24, 1864, died May 1, 
1890. 

John Lewis, born June 9, 1853, died June 14, 1853. 

Caroline Louisa, born November 1, 1856, died January 
23, 1860. 



j^lrs. rlizabeth I ravers levels 

and the <jjrecknock pamily. 



♦ I T IS the object of this sketch to call to onr affectionate- 
(2/ remembrance the character and bearing;-, the presence, as 
far as may be, of a Virginia gentlewoman of the old rigime,. 
who was one of ourselves, whose life, lived among those 
we knew, helped to make them what they were, and what 
we so greatly loved. It is no small thing so to have lived that, 
after nearly a C3ntury has shut us away from the sight of the 
world, descendants or kinsfolk who never saw us should 
turn with loving reverence to look upon our life-work, 
should greatfully acknowledge its worth to themselves, and 
draw from it lessons of faithfulness to those whom it is. 
their oflfice to influence, and the hope that years yet to 
come shall show the fruit of tlieir labors, when they, too,, 
shall seem, but only seem, to have passed away. Such a life 
was that of Elizabeth Travers Daniel, of Crow's Nest, in 
Stafford count}'-, afterwards the wife of Dr. Richmond 
Lewis, of Brecknock. Except her impress on the charac- 
ter of the only one of her children who long survived her, 
only some old letters, onl}^ some remembrances of her, 
traits handed down by those who knew her, only this re- 
mains; and yet such an impression of depth of nature, un- 
flinching integrity, devotion to duty, of all that was lofty 
and dignified, reaches us, that we love to dwell on her 



beWis (;on|rGss. ♦ ♦ 87 

memory', to draw as near as we can to her, feeling almost 
as if we had seen the tine face, had heard the grave, sincere 
tones, had felt the effect of the noble presence. To say 
that her mind was one of polished elegance is only to say she 
was of the stock from which she came — daughter of a Dan- 
iel and a Moncure, favorite niece of Jean Wood, and con- 
genial sister of Judge Peter A'ivinn Daniel. Evidence of 
her taste has been left in writing she did for the Budget, 
a collection of papers, eitlie.r original or selected, prepared 
and read for the fortnightly meetings of the two households 
of Brecknock and Llangollen. Fortunate children, whose 
development Avas fostered under such auspices ! We know 
enough of the life of a Southern lady in the slavery days 
to be sure it was full of arduous duties. Let us do honor 
to the memory of women mIio, under the pressure of so 
many cares as wives, as mothers, as mistresses, as mem- 
bers of a most polished society, loyally responded to the 
call of duty, and left no side of nature — mental, religious, 
domestic, social — to rest in idleness uncultivated. And let 
us picture the breadtli of cultui'e and tlie energy in all 
directions which were the natural i-esult of such a life, not 
for a moment doing our Southern women of the day the 
injustice of thinking of them as indolently languid, served 
by hosts of slaves for whom they did nothing. Taste for 
the pleasures of a cultivated mind, and her energy in di- 
rectino- the education of her children, did not absorb Mrs- 
Lewis to the neglect of her household duties. The details, of 
course, were committed to the housekeeper, Miss Nelly 
Bell, the weaver of many a prett}'- counterpane — some of 
which, or those made by her sister, the Llangollen house- 
keeper, Miss Katy, are still carefully preserved. A picture 
of Mrs. Lewis remains in the memorv of one of the faraih^, 



88 • ♦ ♦ IseWis (Jon^ress. 



giving out, after plantation custom, cotton or wool for spin- 
ning, time after time, to an old negro woman too old to do the 
work well — to whom it was given merely as the indulgence 
of her fancy that she could still spin — the scene impressed 
itself on the memory of some of the young people appar- 
ently, merely b\^ the comical gesture of despair with which 
the poor old woman threw up her hands when her mis- 
tress suggested her having reached a time of life when she 
could stop working. We may well suppose tlie pleasant 
fiction was still kept up, and the spinning still given out to 
her. 

It is pleasant to picture, from the desciition of one who 
remembers it, the exquisite propriety and neatness of the 
appointments of the household at Brecknock ; tlie dainty 
elegance of the table, from which fruit was never absent 
at any meal ; the little oddity of serving milk with a silver 
ladle from a china bowl in the centre, surrounded by cups. 
Accomplished as was Mrs. Lewis in other things, the char- 
acter in which most of her is revealed to us is that of 
mother. Her standard for her children was high ; and 
she devoted her en(;rgy chiefly to rearing them in her own 
lofty principles, and in training them to the same unswerv- 
ing fidelity to duties, small or great, which her own life 
displayed. Her older children grew up and died when 
they seemed about to realize all her hopes--in manners 
and mind equipped to shine in the society to wdiich they 
belonged, and to be the pride and delight of father and 
mother — Ann, the oldest daughter, mature and lovely in 
character, and beautiful Jean, on the threshold of woman- 
hood, and her eldest son, Dr. Alfred Lewis, in the flower of 
youth and bright promise, just after having returned home 
from pursuing his medical course in Baltimore. Ann and 



♦ ♦ beWis (J^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 89 

Jean had been studying under Mi?:s Ann Boggs, with their 
<?ousins, at Frederick's Hall, and it is not impossible that 
their earnestness in trying to fulfill their mother's high am- 
bition for them was connected with their early death- 
The shadow left by these sorrows on her life made her too 
grave and sad to be a bright companion to her small chil- 
dren. Her fear that she had been too strict in her rearing 
of the others, in inducing them to devote themselves too 
exclusively to intellectual })ursuits, made her, however, 
extremely careful of the physical as well as mental 
training of the younger, ar,d play and exercise as well as 
study was made a duty. Ttmost care was taken that their 
associations should be all that was desirable, so that noth- 
ing but imi)rovement should reach them. It was most ex- 
pressive of her tender care of them, that, reserved as she 
was about her profoundest feelings, she was in the habitof 
going apart with her children to pray with them. When 
her son Alfred, stricken by the deadly disease that 
was dashing from his lips the cup so full of life's rich Avine 
— of hope and love and happiness — was ordered to the 
springs in the vain hope of recovery or improvement, his 
mother accompanied him. She left her three remaining 
children, Huldah, Sarah and Travers, behind — the two lit- 
tle girls committed to the care of Aunt Huldah, at Prospect 
Hill. The letters to them and to her husband, after that 
last sad parting — for neither ever returned, her son dying 
in a short time and she sinking rapidly after him — are 
fall of the deep pathos of strong affection that clung so 
piteously to what it was leaving behind. Nothing in the 
marked characteristics of the Daniel family, I think, more 
strongly suggests their Jewish origin than the powerful 
feeling of family ties, pointing back to the fostering cus- 



90 ♦ ♦ beWis (;on|ress. 



toms and institutions of the ancient nation upon whose 
infancy had shone the sacred light of divine truth. 

The two daughters wlio survived their mother, Huldab 
and Sarah, though so young, were yet old enough to feel 
their unspeakable loss, and the faithful heart of the only 
one of them Avho lived herself to old age never ceased to- 
look back upon thai part of her life with the tender mourn- 
fulness of a loving remembrance. The two sisters grew 
into beautiful womanhood together, refined, accomplished 
and lovely, with the high tastes that were theirs by heredi- 
tarv right. It is sweet to linger on that picture of golden 
youth, all l)right with the budding powers and bloom of 
genius, the ardor of young enthusiasm and friendship, 
the rosy light of young love's romance. Echoes of that 
happy time reniain, some of them in cherished letters, in 
wliich sound the voices of the whole bright group of kin- 
dred, cousins, friends, of whom the life of the three house- 
holds — Bel-air, Brecknock and Llangollen — now so silent 
and empty — was once so fall ! 

If only our dear old oaks could relax: their majestic 
reserve — only this once — to indulge the children of tlieir 
soil and shade — and surely they would if they could, for they 
love us, tliese silent guardians of our homes — what a lovely 
poem of more than Arcadian beauty would pour from their 
strong, unforgetting hearts — of all they have seen, of all 
they have heard in those golden days; of the strong tide of 
3^oung life that once poured beneath them, enriched 
by the companionship of the guiding genius, John Lewis, 
the brilliant teacher, their genial friend. When boyish 
voices called here to each other in their lighthearted mer- 
riment, names that have since won their way to fame — Dan- 
iel, Mercer, Moncure, poor Dabney Carr, whose short career 



beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 91 



was to end on u foreign biittlefield in tlie cause of South 
American liberty ; young Fontaine, dying too young to 
know more of life than the bitter-sweet of first love's dis- 
appointment ; William Robinson, );nd all those others, each 
with his story in embryo I And how would the faces tlash 
upon us of the graceful girls who "made the '3'ea' or ' iiav' 
of existence" to many of the noble lives we remember! 
What visions would rise of happy groups straying beneath 
the shades or gathered in hall or porch, listening to the 
silvery voice in song of Susan Hedgman or gifted Frances 
Lewis — what glimpses of bright eyes and blushing cheeks, 
of prettv Sally Washington or stately Margaret Daniel, of 
young HoUadays from Prospect Hill, Albert, Alexander 
and Lewis, graceful Mariam Scott, with her brothers, 
James and John ; of lively Elizabeth Lewis and Sarah, 
with her flower-like face — and the picture would grow 
richer with the beauty of "Uncle Doctor's" courtly forju, 
with Aunt Jean's kind look and Aunt Greenhow's slender 
figure, neat and precise, her presence giving a flavor of 
•earnestness and gravity to the talk that flowed so richly, 
while Travers Daniel's sparkling humor upset the dignity 
of the assemljly. and little Richmond, crouching absorbed 
over a volume on the floor, looked up to smile. What flash 
of classic epigram, of polished jest and sparkling repartee 
— what flow of fine thought in happy verse — what lights 
and shades of graceful sentiment I 

The oaks that looked on them and listened look down 
on us, and, listening, are silent. But the old letters speak. 
^' In the faded ink, on the yellow paper, that may have 
been buried for years under piles of family archives, while 
friends have been d3'ing and hair growing white, who has 
not found memorials like these from Avhich the past looks 



92 ♦ ♦ IseWis (Jon^ress. 



back at us for a moment, smiling so sadly out of Hades, 
only to sink again into the cold shades, Avith a faint, faint 
sound as of a remembered tone, tlie ghostly echo of a once 
familiar laughter!" In such associationsthe two sisters lived. 
The next few years saw them both most happily married — 
married to two brothers whom they had known from child- 
hood — whose closely concentrated affection — they were the 
only sons of Dr. James Scott — kept the young wives even 
more firmly united. A few more years, the spell of happi- 
ness is broken, and one of the brothers, John Scott, whose 
magnificent physical powers, like those of his brother 
James, seemed, to promise long life and usefulness, was 
stricken with the deadly approach of consumption, and 
went South with his devoted wife for the healing effect of 
a softer climate, and the two sisters were parted, with the 
shadow of a great grief drawing near. A stained hand- 
kerchief, perhaps sacred to the tears of the supreme sor- 
row of life, and a few brokenhearted words, carefullj^ 
preserved, tell the widow's story. He was buried, by his- 
wish or hers, at the spot on the path between Brecknock 
and Llangollen where the parties of young people from the 
two households used to meet in the happy days. The rest 
of her life was short. She was soon laid beside him, and 
there, alone in the solitude of the fragrant woods, the two 
graves tell their tale of the two young lives laid down with 
the dew and glory of youth still fresh upon them, and the 
memory of their affection forever beautiful. The spot is 
marked by a simple enclosure, and around it is the soft, 
quiet song of the forest. There, with unconscious appro- 
priateness, as spring after spring returns, ''the small bird 
singeth clear, her blissful siveet song piteous." 

The other sister, Sarah, survived all her familv. Into- 



beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 93 



her rich life was poured all the beauty and grace, all the 
loveliness and worth that the young lives which faded had 
promised, but did not live to show. Of what her mother 
hoped for them all — in goodness of character, in mental 
graces, in personal charm — she was the exquisite fulfill- 
ment. 



3 



amcs 



iCOtt and 



IV 5' 

i'h's. ))arah [ravers ^cott, 




OF= OeL-KIR. 

* \0 eom})lete outline 
CV I of tlie life of James 
M. Scott, of Bel-aii%and Sa- 
rah, his wife, will be given 

1K)W. 

Their lioh' and elevating 
influence is still living 
and fresh for us, and 
the sacred re]nenil)rances 
of them are l)eing gathered 
to be ])reserved in the 
family, to be poured in 
sweetness over the lives of 
their children's children 
of other generations. But 
it is fittinf:^ that the fra- 
grance (il ihcir nani<'- shmiid make sweeter the welcome 
we give their kindred, who are dear to us for their sakes ; 
and some tDUch of wliat ih'dr life was shall be expressed 
in their home, some traits of the goodness that make its 
associations so pure and beautiful. 

In both there was such devotion to duty as made the 
sacred right alwavs first with them, and to be followed with 



beWis (Jon^rGSS. ♦ ♦ 95 



too strai<;-ht and simple purpose, at au}^ cost, for conscious- 
ness of sacrifice, but as the only course — 1 tender sense of 
Justice, that made them most careful of the rights of others 
— a generous charity that gave most freely, whether of the 
abundance of their early life or out of the hardships that 
marked one ])art of their lives. In him there was a 
strongly marked nature, grand in its proportions, of which 
the simple outlines were straightforward integrity, clear 
-sincerity, dignity too perfect to be conscious of itself, affec- 
tion deep and warm, kindness quickly called fortli and 
ready to kindle into intense generosity — like wiiat ex- 
pressed itself in the beautiful act of his father, Dr. Scott, 
who, on meeting in a county adjoining his own a college 
friend, poor, walking the long distance from some point at 
the North, perhaps, to Richmond or Petersburg, dismount- 
-ed, made him a present of horse and saddle, and probably 
what money he had with him, and walked up to Spotsyl- 
vania or Orange to his home. It is of the nature of a 
man like that to be totally unconscious of the fineness of 
such an action in himself; it is as simple a thing as breath- 
ing. In the son the same generous spirit lived; the same 
■original mind that marked the father, a deep humor that 
was akin to his quick and profound sympath3% and was 
one of his qualities that was most powerfully attractive. 
With his strong manliness there was the strength of sym- 
pathy and principle to humble himself without reserve, to 
one, to any, to some little child, or a servant, whom his im- 
petuous nature had hurried him to wound. With what earnest 
respect and profound faith in hina did this trait inspire 
those even who stood in awe of him ! He had, to a wonder- 
ful degree, the faculty of impressing himself — his strong 
ideas of right and wrong, his delicate taste in propriety, on 



96 * ♦ beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 

his children and othtirs, without a word — so that t\\e\ felt 
iiis opinion. His silence was more eloquent than many 
words of other men, because there was more in him to be^ 
expressed, and his life expressed it without the need of 
words. How silently was his charity »;iven — his sympathy 
with poverty and distress — in his own old ai^e and weak- 
ness growing tenderer and tenderer towards the suffering 
and unfortunate! Sometimes in some small thing — the 
giving of coveted flower slips from his daughter's sui)pl3'' 
of plants to a negro, the taking warm flannel to a poor 
rheumatic woman, a gift of a hen to a poor creature who 
had little notice to expect, the pitying thouglit of an old 
negro woman, whose feebleness constantly a[)peale.d to him^ 
making him troubled and anxious about her when he was 
comfortabl}'^ wrapped a cold night, for fear she should suf- 
fer with cold, sending a man to haul and cut her wood, or 
going himself to do it, when he was so feeble that one of 
his daughters would accomp-iny him to help. In small 
things and great, he showed the Christ-like image of love 
of duty and of the poor. In his old ags th'i intensity of 
his sympathy and depth of affection for his children made 
his life broaden out into the channels uf tlieirs, so that he 
lived in the life of each one. How we loved t;) please him 
— how sweet it was to feel that we mirrored his nature, so 
that in the things we said around him there was the funil- 
iar ring of his own humor. The most exquisite part of 
his fine nature was that turne 1 to his beloved wife — wor- 
shipping, cherishing her witli a strength that grew only 
stronger as the powers of lii'e grew werdver. How much of 
pure and high chivalry there was in his constant care of 
her, his constant admiration and tenderness — tiie leeling 
that would make him think of her at .the sight of all 



♦ ♦ IseWis (;on|ress, ♦ ♦ 97 

beautiful things — an opening floM'er, a beautiful sunset 
would make him bring the blossom to her, or take her out 
to see the glowing sky ! I remember his tenderly stooping 
to take her slipper, which was damp from going out to 
look at something one winter dM', by his advice, and dry- 
ing it before the fire with a care of her that was so earnest. 
She always had a sense of independence of waiting on — a 
feeling that there was something unworthy in exacting 
some kinds of personal service even from slaves — but there 
were certain little services that slie would accept from him,, 
and from him only. And how welcome he made her to 
them ! How worthy he thought her of all and more than 
all he could do! Her long life covered a period of a mighty 
change in Virginia, and she lived to prove — to be a part of 
the beautiful proof the South has furnished — that the finest 
pan of society could be, even after such convulsions, such 
revolution, calmly unchanged. To her and to her husband,, 
as to tbeir generation in the South, life was broken mid- 
way, an abyss of perfect separation dividing sharply the 
old days from the new — the old life of abounding pros- 
perity in a rich, abundant land, from the new strange 
experience of bare poverty in a ruined country, where 
evertyhing was indeed lost but honor, and the high fortitude 
to endure privation patiently. Paralyzing as was the shock 
to him and to all the men who met it, what must it have 
been to her, so delicately nurtured, not indeed in in- 
dolence, but on whom came in middle or late life the 
necessity of learning all over again, everything, even the 
smallest details of living. As in her earlier years she. had 
been the exquisite flower of life, the ornament of a Southern 
home, as wife, as mother, as conscientious mistress, as 
loyal and devoted friend, dispensing the beautiful hospi- 



98 ♦ * beWis (Jon^ress. 



tality of her State and race, using her resources with ten- 
der reference to the needs of those to Avhom lier wide 
charity extended — so, in the last, she set the still higher 
example of courage in enduring adversity, of strength to 
meet and conquer difficulties so new and strange, espe- 
cially those confronting her in the education of her younger 
children, of teaching them to be true to the lofty standards 
of the past, undiscouraged to aim at and attain the high 
•cultivation and equipment for usefulness which was their 
right. The privations that were bravely borne by the faith- 
ful parents for the sake of this will never be known, borne 
as a matter of course, and without a thought of sacrifice, as 
long as the cherished object was reached, and in their ad- 
versity there was the same readiness to extend help to the 
needy, as in their prosperous days; the same generous im- 
pulse to give out of their small store as out of their abun- 
dance; the same free opening the door of their home with 
all the sacred privileges of the hearth stone, to one in need 
of shelter from the storms of life. 

They lived to see the ten, five sons and five daughters, 
they left equipped for the work of life and engaged in it; and 
their deep s^nnpathy with their children's labors, their pride 
in what they did, their happy confidence in what they could 
do, will be a sweet remembrance and source of strength, 
a call to the highest achievements they can ever reach. 
They were the objects of affection approaching adoration on 
the part of their children, and they knew it. The}'' were 
surrounded by the thought of it constantly, they felt how 
important they were to our happiness. A familiar morning 
thought to our mother was one acknowledging the good- 
ness of God in sparing her one day more to her children. 
The very light of heaven seemed to shine upon their old 



♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ '99 

age, and to fill it with comfort and happiness. The gathering 
of their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, to 
see them in the old home ; their visits — like the coming of 
angels — to the homes of their sons and daughters, filled 
that time with happy scenes and furnish us with so many 
happy, tender memories now. The two last summers of 
their life together were varied by the indulgence of a trip to 
the springs, the first one the first since their middle life, and 
greatly enjoyed. They had both possessed great and char- 
acteristic beauty of person — he, strongly made and fine in 
figure and face, with firm, large, regular features and 
wonderful clear blue eyes, from which looked the soul of 
one who was in the highest sense a man — she, w^tli the ex- 
quisite, tender beauty of a delicate flower. No rose was 
ever more silken in its texture than her cheek, no star ever 
shone with more of heavenly light than her eyes. Beautiful 
in youth, she never grew old, only more and more spirit- 
ually beautiful, her face and manner always showing the 
same fresh bloom of young enthusiasm and exalted feeling, 
her eyes always lighted with the same youthful smile of 
gentle, shy confidence, her manner full of the modest self- 
depreciation of the one who humbleth himself as a little 
child. As in old age her hair grew bright with pure silver 
light, crowning the tender, fair face with its soft rose-tint 
in the delicate cheek, and her eyes shone with a light of 
immortal youth ; she was surely more lovely even than 
when she first grew up to blooming womanhood. A gentle- 
man who saw her then, with the light of liappy smiles on 
her face, with her children around her, adoring her as they 
always did, said, in speaking of her afterwards, that she 
was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Among 
strangers at the springs, the vision of beautiful old age — of 



100 ♦ ♦ bevOis ^on^ress. 



him so hanrlsome and kind, of her so lovely and delicately 
cared for — made an impression like a strain of heav- 
enly music among common sounds of earth. The utmost 
attention and admiration were shown them. I like to think 
of the pretty scene when they first came out on tlie hotel 
porch, the lovely old pair, where so many strangers were 
gathered, and every gentleman arose immediately to offer 
her a seat — all the chivahy that was in them all summoned 
to the surface by the sweet face, and thev seemed only to 
want an opportunity to do her some little service. I can see 
her graceful confusion and disclaiming of any such attention, 
her begging them not to do so on pain of her not feeling 
like coming among them — her daughter's smiling and call- 
ing her the "belle" of the s[)rings, and some gentleman's 
agreeing with her. And of such attention and respectful 
observance was she the object throughout their stay. The 
freshly caught trout of the morning's sport was sent to her 
so constantly that she was sometimes uncertain of the 
sender. The last scene was so like her as they went away 
(and, early as it was in the morning, everybody was up to 
see them go, and a long procession followed them to the 
carriage). When she turned back with a gentle courtesy 
to go to speak to some Jewesses who were sitting on the 
porch and tell them good bye (I know her so well I think 
she had been praying for them, her tender heart rose for 
them because they were without Christ), and said to them 
or to all she was leaving, "I pray God to bless you all!" 
Was it not a glimpse of heaven? No wonder that they fol- 
lowed her and clung to the last sight of that angel face. 

N. E. Scott. 



be\A)ts (Jon^ress. 



101 




"TWT" Y earliest recollec- 
^ /A\ tion of mv father 
^~-— ^"^ and mother 
dates from the time of our 
residence at Little AVhim, 
ill tlieir middle life. He 
was an uncommonly hand- 
some and robust man, busy 
with the affairs of three 
plantations, under the old 
regime of slaves and over- 
seers, and varying these 
cares during the hunting 
season with good riding 
horses and a fine pack of 
hounds, his principal in- 
vited company being neigh- 
bors of similar taste. 
MRS. SARAH TRAVERS SCOTT. Mother was then bur- 
dened with the care of a large family, and charged herself 
almost as fully with the health, moral and physical, of all 
the servants — supexintending the weaving or buying, cut- 
ting and making their clothes, etc., besides the weekly issue 
of provisions at the home place, and supplying the sick or 
infirm with special comforts — in several instances taking 
Tinder personal care children neglected by their parents. 
Her Sunday catechism class for the negro children was an 
institution of the place ; and any who wanted to learn to 
read were encouraged or helped by her or the children of 
the family. • 

She appeared most keenly sensible of the responsibility 
of slave ownership, rendered more burdensome by a certain 



102 ♦ ♦ IseWis (Jon^ress. ♦ 

inaptitude for their management, and impatience with their 
unreliable ways ; and I remember hearing lier say repeat-^ 
edly that she would feel relieved of a great burden could 
they and she be mutually freed from bondage. And I be- 
lieve it was only the manner of their emancipation after- 
wards that was any subject of regret to her. Discouraging 
perhaps more than usual the association of her childrert 
with the young darkies, she yet countenanced no injustice- 
towards the negroes on the part of the children of the 
house. I remember she made me to restore about ten-fold 
some sugar my brother Lewis and I had taken from one of 
the negro cabins, a year before, and make humble confes-' 
sion of the burglary also. She had occasion to reprove 
grave faults in her children, yet seemed to repose unlimited 
confidence in them at maturer age, when the idea of their 
doing any wrong or getting hurt seemed rarely to occur to- 
her in anticipation. Even during the war, when she was- 
accustomed to part with the boys with tears of affection 
and pride rather than fear, I never saw her very uneasy,, 
except for Zack, when he was long unaccounted for, and 
supposed to have been killed. 

Yet it was evidently from committing her children tO' 
God's care in her unremitted, earnest prayers that her 
cheerful confidence was derived. In the midst of so many 
domestic cares, and such active habits, it was remarkable 
that she added a ripo scholarship to the excellent acquire- 
ments of her youth. Nothing less than her wonderfully 
clear and tenacious mind, and her custom of tracing every 
question through all its bearings before dismissing it — her 
habit of arranging the information and making it her own 
for life — could account for these intellectual attainments. 

While she was considered predominantly " bookish," her 



beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ ^^^ 



practical knowledge of all the lore of housekeeping, or of 
the sick room, was all the more conspicuous. Her gifts 
she used with such a faculty of application, and such a 
happy expression of what she knew, that there was none 
so learned but could derive profit as well as pleasure from 
her conversation or correspondence. An ardent admirer 
of nature, and u devout worshipper of God, a fair land- 
scape or radiant sky, the fragrance, form or coloring of 
f owers, never failed to show the reflection in her beautiful 
face of elevated thoughts, and her happiest expression. 

She was the most- perfect example of modesty I ever 
knew, and carried self-denial to the verge of asceti- 
cism, though sufficiently indulgent to the more epicurean 
tastes of others, and most liberal in interpretation of the 
laws of hospitality toward strangers, especially such as were 
in need. Her children sometimes thought they were made 
to defer too much to visitors. But if she erred here it 
was on the safe side, and from a high sense of duty to her 
neighbors, and propriety for those under her guidance. 
Her views of honor and rendering to others their due were 
heroic. Debt was bondage pure and simple till discharged. 
Next to the Christian faith as a sanction of cardinal vir- 
tues, she coveted most a classical education, and the hard- 
est work of her life and the highest sacrifices were made 
for this object during the war, when she had to teach some 
of them herself, and afterwards, when remnant of prop- 
erty left was pledged to the education of the younger 
children — a cause now happih^ aided by those already 
settled in life — until all had enjoyed better advantages 
than she herself. None of them, I think, however, at- 
tained to her high standard of scholarship. To the last 
she could teach any of them more than she needed to 
know of them, though she was far from thinking so. 



104 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. 



There never was a couple whose virtues blended more 
happily to make a perfect union and a faultless family 
government. It was hard to forecast one of them surviv- 
ing the other, and this did not really occur. Father a few- 
months, but only as a lonely shadow of his former self, till 
called to join her in their eternal rest. 

He was a man of strong character, clear head and heart, 
genial as well as firm, of unerring moral perceptions and 
convictions. For one of so few words, he exercised a 
w^onderful influence on all about him. 

There was a wonderful moral magnetism in his presence 
that indicated intuitively to anyone not an idiot, just what 
stand he would take on any question of right or propriety, 
in advance of any expression from his lips, and this com- 
manded respect and confidence universally. 

He only lacked ambition and self-seeking to have been a 
born leader of men. His keen sense of humor and happy 
faculty of expressing a great deal in a few Avell-chosen 
words made him a most entertaining companion for young 
or old. 

For one who disliked writing as he, and did so little of 
it, his writing was remarkable for natural and easy as well 
as forcible expression. 

Mother's letters were brilliant and fine examples of pol- 
ished English; I have seen some from father's pen that 
were inimitable specimens of completeness and logical 
expression. 

His treatment of the younger children was rather stern 
than affectionate ; but early in their teens they were taken 
into his confidence and made to feel the elevation and re- 
sponsibility of their position. I shall never forget his once 
asking my pardon for having scolded me unjustly, nor the 
severe stripes he laid on me for just cause. 



beWis (Jon|rGss. ♦ ♦ 105 



His heart and soul, as well as fortune, were enlisted in 
the cause of the South in the civil war, and the catastrophe 
came to him at an age and under circumstances that suffi- 
ciently explained, if they did not wholly justify, his suc- 
ceeding loss of interest in husiness affairs. He seemed to 
relegate to the younger generation the problem of retriev- 
ing lost fortune with free labor, and to interest himself 
rather in helping others worse off than himself. 

His strong prejudices were gradually mastered, too, to- 
wards individuals, in spite of detested faults, and charity 
became his supreme law. 

One of his children complaining once of some offense of 
a mischief-making person, he replied, "Q, when you come 
to die all that will appear of ver^' little importance ! " 

His facetious or humorous observations would make a 
good book, and will be long remembered by those whose 
privilege it was to know him. 

I shall never cease to regret the loss to myself and chil- 
-dren, by living away from him and mother for so many 
years, nor to prize at the full the association that occa- 
sional visits afforded, and the recollection of mother's affec- 
tion for my little ones, down to her namesake, and father's 
gathering the two little boys between liis knees when last 
liere as his closest and most congenial friends, will rest as 
:a benediction on their heads as long as life lasts. 

I trust that more competent hands may complete the 
•commemoration of their virtues, thai, may supplement the 
tradition to be handed down to their descendants for emu- 
lation of the noble example of their lives ; for I am con- 
scious of having done very little in these lines to effect 
such an object. 

B. R. A. Scott. 



106 ♦ ♦ beWis (^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 

3N growing old, the tendency is to look back over our 
lives, and, as we do so, we recognize the influences- 
which have moulded us, all unnoticed at the time. 
And the love we have borne our parents hitherto seems a 
poor return for their faithful love and watchfulness. When 
we really begin to understand the time for showing we 
appreciate them as we should is often gone. Only regret 
remains While this is always more or less felt, still to 
some it is granted for their parents to live to a good old age 
and for their latter years to be their best days — because of 
their sympathy with their children in maturity and 
assurance of their full appreciation. 

It has been our great happiness that the lives of our 
dear mother and father sliould be spared to such length as 
to give us time to understand them fully until we grew 
more dependent on them in our middle age even than in 
our childhood. 

And what a cause we have for admiration and gratitude I 
Such characters are rare indeed ; such beaut}^ of soul, and 
of outward form. Father had a splendid physique and a 
steady eye, indicative of the strong character within. He 
was governed by highest religious principle in every action 
— respected and revered by all, as something above and 
apart from themselves. Underneath lay a mine of tender- 
ness, which, as he grew older, served to soften his judg- 
ments of those less strong than himself. 

His devotion to mother always retained the tenderness 
of a lover. His admiration and pride in her intellectual 
attainments led him sometimes to studies for which he had 
no natural taste. 

He yearned for companionship with her in all things. 
His pleasure was to watch her enjoyment of the beautiful 



bG\A)is (jGr\|ress. ♦ ♦ 107 



mid intellectual, his thought providing pleasant surprises 
for her. Tlieir's was an ideal marriage, each honoring 
the other, each a firm reliance to the other, and their 
united judgement given to the guidance of their household. 
And what picture can do justice to dear mother, with her 
rare beauty, her sensitive, poetic nature, seemingly fitted 
for a dreamy life, yet placed at the head of a large family 
with its many prosaic duties so foreign to her nature? How 
faithful each duty was met, in spite of her frail health, 
which often confined her to her room for many weary 
months at a time ! 

Her consciousness left nothing untouched. Her sense 
of responsibilit}^ towards the servants was overwhelming, 
and no more to be delegated to another than her responsi- 
bility to her children. I remember standing b}' her as she 
read and expounded the Bible to them, and taught the 
little ones their catechism. She felt their souls were more 
her charge than their bodies. I shall never forget a scene 
in the office at Bel-air — mother kneeling by a dying negro, 
pouring out her whole soul in audible prayer, while the 
group of nurses, black and white, stood in- silent awe. Her 
care of their bodies was as conscientious as her anxiety 
over their salvation. 

The clothing of two hundred persons was no light task ; 
particularly, as many of them were so improvident as to 
require double attention. Even the babies, when their 
mothers were careless, became a charge to her personally. 
One poor little child, who was in danger of being a life- 
long cripple from its mother's persistent neglect, mother 
had brought to her daih', had it bathed, rubbed, taught to 
walk and fed in her presence, making its clothes herself. 
Her efforts were rewarded by the little girl's becoming a 



108 ♦ ♦ IsevOis (Jon^ress. 



healthy woman. Mother left Little Whim some time before- 
the servants were moved and Jenny used to walk back and 
forth in front of mother's window and cry as she missed 
mother's approving smile. The gratitude of the father 
was very touching. Emancipation was the rolling away of 
a great weight from her heart ; yet the spiritual welfare of 
the race was mother's earnest prayer till her life's end. 

The poor and needy came to her in full confidence of 
her sympathy and help, feeling she would know all they 
had to bear. She was tender to the erring — always point- 
ing to the One who was strong to forgive, help and save 
them. 

I was forcibly reminded of the gentle yet all powerful influ- 
ence exerted over us, and of what we owe our parents, by 
hearing a dear friend deplore with tears the lack of a, 
mother's help in her youth, when striving to be a Chris- 
tian. We had no such hindrance. From our infancy the 
leading was all Christian influence of the highest order. 
As children, we clung to mother more than father. He 
inspired in us more or less of awe. This feeling of con- 
straint did not wear away till we grew up. Then we won- 
dered how we ever came to feel it. We had grown to 
understand the high standard he set for us was the same 
he cherished himself. Our love and admiration grew 
deeper and deeper as we watched Jiis softening to the 
weaknesses of otiiers while there was none for his own. 

His taciturnity made us treasure up his words as too 
precious to forget. There was often a strange sense of 
companionship to be enjo3'ed in his very silence. There 
seemed no need for words. 

As our children came on, we yearned to throw them 
under the ennobling influence of their grandparents, 



beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ log 



trusting they would profit by it far, far more than we. in 
our blind youth, had done. 

We thank God "we are not as many others,"' not in the 
spirit of the Pharisee, but in humble recognition of his 
special providence in giving us such a mother and father. 
Sarah Trayers Lewis Anderson. 



10 the pictures already given, I would add another 
touch, which will show something I like to remember 
about my father and mother in connection with a phase of 
southern life now passed away. 

One of the negro men, greatly trusted by his master and 
beloved by the boys of the family, Overton HoUiiisworth^ 
a stead}', warm-hearted man, used to manage a boat which 
Avas used between one of our places in Stafford and Wash- 
ington to carry wood. He had entire control of the sales, 
and could at any time have gained his freedom by not re- 
turning, and would have had money enough to begin life 
on at the North ; but his honesty and his attachment to us 
were proof against any such thought, if it ever occurred 
to him. And they were more emphaticalh^ shown in the 
following incident : 

In one of his trips on tiie Potomac, or one of its creeks, 
he had in charge my oldest brother, a lad not grown, to 
whom he was devotedly attached. A movement of the 
yard threw the boy into the water — and neither he nor 
Overton could swim ! Without weighing the chances for 
his life the negro sprang into the river after his young 
master, clutched him, and Avhile wildly struggling in the 
water, happened to strike the side of the boat, climbed in. 



110 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. 



dragging the bo}' after him,- with the assistance of another 
negro — and only afterwards probably realized his danger. 
On their return home my brother went into the house and 
told the story, and soon Overton was called from the 
kitchen, where he had been transfixing his dusky audi- 
ence with the same — called by my father's voice — and 
came to find him standing in the porch, where, in a 
few brief words, he offered him his liberty and a handsome 
sum of money to begin life on — for liberty alone was a 
poor gift in a community where the negroes, who prided 
themselves on their ancestors and their comfortable homes, 
looked with contempt on a homeless " free nigger." 

It warms my heart with unspeakable pleasure to remem- 
ber that Overton's summary disposition of the subject, set- 
tling it at once and finally, was to reply: "Thank you, 
master ; I would rather belong to you. I am as free as I 
want to be now." And so he did belong to him, serving 
the family most loyally and faithfully through all the trou- 
bled years that followed — remaining on one of our Stafford 
places, just opposite Fredericksburg, when we had to take 
refuge from the scenes of war there, in our home at Bel- 
air, and protecting our property as well as he could, pass- 
ing and repassing the lines, and running great risk of his 
life in being arrested on suspicion of being a spy. 

After the relation of master and slave had been finally 
dissolved he became a thrifty and successful farmer near 
Hichmond — still holding loving communication with the 
family at Bel-air, and cherishing the custom of coming to 
see them at times — and d^elighting to say, in effect : " De 
union between me an' de Scotts ain' never been broke. De 
war ain' broke it; an' 't ain' never been broke." He made 
money enough while yet a slave to buy his wife from her 



beWis (Jon|rGss. ♦ ♦ m 



former master, and asked father to stand as master to her. 
His pride in the children of the famih' was very touch- 
ing — he had none of his own. To his "young masters" 
he left a reversicniary right in his property at his death. 

Another case like his was one of a servant holding a yet 
more dignified position in the family — my mother's trusted 
-assistant and friend — our " mammy," whose memory de- 
serves to be kept green forever. She, too, was childless, 
^nd seemed to pour out on her foster children the strong 
affection that might have gone to her own, if she had had 
them. 

She took entire charge of them at times — their health, 
the formation of their character and manners being trusted 
to her, as they were as gravely cared for by her almost as 
if she were their mother. 

Mammy's cabin was a favorite place of resort for the 
children, and it was one where they were sure of being 
carefully kept reminded of a high standard of behavior, 
^s well as petted in her own characteristic way, with a cer- 
tain gravity approaching severity, which was adopted, I 
•suppose, as a safeguard against spoiling them with fond- 
ness. Severity of manner, seasoned with substantial kind- 
Jiess, however, did not much weigh upon them, but acted 
■only as a wholesome flavoring to their enjoyment of her 
society, and a reminder to hold her in due awe and rever- 
■ence. 

My mother's respect for Mammy's Christian goodness 
and sincerity was very great, as well as for that of another 
■old negress. Aunt Cilia, who used generally to take turns 
with mother in going to church, one of them staying to 
take care of the children, the carriage being ordered as 
much for one as the other. 1 have heard mother say that 



112 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 

fence, when perhaps they were going together in the car- 
riage, some delay of Annt Cilia's was inquired into, and it 
was accounted for by her saying she wanted to "study her- 
self" — I suppose she meant to compose herself for devotion, 
before going to church. 

These two Ohristian friends in her household were a great 
pleasure to my mother, who reall}^ took an attitude of some 
inferiority to the older one, Aunt Cilia, in deference to her 
great age, she being an old woman, used to take the privi- 
lege of calling her master's young wife by her name, "Sarah," 
and took a most commanding position with regard ta the 
children. These were very much afraid of her, as she made 
awful threats of condign punishment on offenders, though, 
these were generally found to vanish in noise. 

There was a closer friendship between them and Mammy, 
whicli came with the first dawning of life, when they were 
the objects of her tender care as babies, and lasting t» the 
time of her death long after the war, after having served, 
three generations of the family. 

When the breaking up of the ties betweeia master 
and slave came and the dispersion that followed,. Mammy, 
though invited to make her home with us, concluded that 
in old age it would seem strange and painful to he-r to be a 
charge on the personal care of her mistress, who had now 
no servants to help in such cases, and she preferred to go 
to live with her niece. What it cost her to separate from 
us, I knew by the tears on her face as she kissed the chil- 
dren she loved on parting from them in the dark of a. 
winter morning. 

But as age grew on her heart turned to us as her nearest,. 
nearer than her kindred, and she came back and sponi her' 
last days under the care of our family, having toldoue of.' 



beWis (;on|rGSS. ♦ ♦ 113 



my brothers in a mood half of appeal, half of command, 
that she looked to him to take care of her, and he did so. 
She had been with us only a short time when she was par- 
alyzed, just before the celebration of my father and moth- 
er's golden wedding, in 1882, and was here then occupying 
a chamber next to theirs. She Avas well enough to be 
greatly interested in the gathering, the coining of the sons 
and daughters, of some of the old servants, too. When 
she was asked if she would like to be carried in to see the 
the desert-table, she said, "That would be too much honor," 
but so evidently liked the thought that she was lifted in 
her arm-chair by Overton and one or two of my brothers 
and lield in the doorway to look. She was greatly gratified. 
Sometimes she would be overcome with trouble at being 
waited on by her mistress and others of the famih' — espe- 
cially, 1 think, once when my mother or one of us 
bathed her feet. And I remember the deeply pathetic look 
in her dark tearful eyes, when she was reminded who said, 
''Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these 
my brethren, ye have done it unto me," and the comfort 
it seemed to bring her to hear the words. 

She Avas buried by her husjoand in the colored people's 
burying ground at Bel-air, by her wish, in sight of the 
oaks around the home of her foster children and not far 
from the cabin where she had lived so many years — her 
grave elocj[uent with the double lesson of a well-spent life, 
and of God's protecting love toward his children. 

Early in the war, my father was advised by one who 
foresaw its close as likely to be disastrous to the South, to 
sellhis property, negroes and all, and to leave the country. 
Adopting which plan, either in Europe or Canada, he 
could have lived secure in comfort, his family well pro- 
vided for in any event. 



114 ♦ ♦ IseWis (;on^ress. 



He replied that he did not believe he had the right 
to do this — that he did not think it would be just and 
kind to the negroes. And so he stayed in Virginia, where 
he and his family bore their full share of the ruin that fell 
upon their State. 

A letter from their oldest son at the close of the war 
shows a picture sad enough of the gloom that overshad- 
owed the South at the time, when the impulse of many 
young men of the dissolved army was to leave the country 
and seek a home elsewhere. He felt bound to stay, how- 
ever, not only by the desire to help his family in their 
changed circumstances, but b}^ the claims upon him of 
the negroes he had taken with him from Virginia to a cot- 
ton plantation in Texas, whom he could not in humanity 
leave until they had become sufficientl}^ accustomed to 
their new situation to know what to do or how to take care 
of themselves. When he had carried them away it had 
been, I think, under promise to his mother or charge from 
her, to keep up the practice of reading the Bible to them. 



^1 HIS collection of memoirs, showing ni}^ father and 
_L mother to their grandchildren and great grandchil- 
dren as they Avere in their home with their family, is only 
a fragment of what it would be well for them to know and 
remember, but it is enough for them to see, reading be- 
tween the lines a great deal more than is written. 

These two sketches are given to preserve to their de- 
scendants a picture of lives too beautiful to be forgotten — 
lives that are a proof that along the dusty way of life there 
is a path all fresh with tender verdae and flowers, airs full 



beWis ^on|ress. ♦ ♦ 115 



of springtime and music — the sky above of clearest light 
— a path called the " wa}'' of holiness" — that to the pure 
souls who pass along it belong the poetry, the beauty, the 
joy of life, an undying youth, and to them there is a bright 
gatewa}^ spanning their road. Poor mortals on the crowd- 
ed highway see it dimly through their tears and call it 
death ; but these pass through it to find only a fairer 
stretch of their same sweet pathway, unchanged, yet set 
with sweeter flowers, and shone upon with light more clear 
and heavenly, and they know it is the Gate of Life. 
Such life as theirs — 

* * * "Springs to the welcoming skies, 
And burns, a steadfast star, to steadfast eyes." 

It is outlined in order that to the latest generation of their 
family "their light may so shine" that their descendants 
may feel the inspiration of their high example, may see 
their own path lighted by the pure rays of the Light that 
was the light of life to these, and may thank God for the 
help of that heavenly radiance. N. E. Scott. 



Multum in rTarvo of . . . 

Navid ^ullock plarris. 

FROM LETTERS TO MRS. D. B HARRIS. 

^^^^UDGE DANIEL said he passed the best examina- 
I tion in his class at West Point, considering his 

^-^ extreme youth. 

Prof. Mahar said he saw nothing at thirty superior to his 
engineering drawings. 

Gen. Winfield Scott, when commander-in-chief, said he 
was the most promising young officer in the army. 

Gen. Beauregard said he was the best officer in his com- 
mand, and that he had never occupied his true position, 
and that the cities of Charleston, South Carolina, and 
Petersburg, Virginia, should each erect a monument to 
his memory. ' 

Gen. Gilmer, Chief of Engineer Bureau, said his works 
and his bravery had never been surpassed, and that his 
country had never known the extent of his services. 

Gen. Jordan, Adjutant General of the army of Northern 
Virginia, said he was only made Brigadier General when 
dying from devotion to duty, and that he was fitted to fill 
the shoes of either Lee or Beauregard, and that as com- 
mander of the best army the South ever put on the field — 
the army of Northern Virginia. 



beWis (;on|ress. ♦ ♦ 117 



Gen. R. E. Lee said if Colonel Harris could not overcome 
a difficulty in engineering, he could not. 

Gen. Hoke said lie was the bravest man he ever saw. 

Governor Lee said his reputation was second to none in 
the State. 

Colonel Paul, Assistant Adjutant General, said he was 
the only man he knew fitted to fill the place of Jackson. 

Major Cook, Assistant Adjutant General, said it took 
millions of men to find a Jackson, a Gordon or a Harris. 

Colonel Feilder, of the British Army, who was assigned 
to duty under him at Charleston, said he resembled Gen. 
Gordon more than any man he ever saw. 

Colonel Otey, Assistant Adjutant General, said he simply 
worshipped him. 

Mr, San Jankee, of Charleston, said it was an honor and 
pleasure to have him in his house, not as a valued guest 
-only, but as an example to his only son just entering life. 



.P^-7 



^ 




^W- 



John JeNA/is, of [langollen. 



BY WALTER LEWIS PATTESON. 




1 



T was deeply regretted by 
the descendants of John? 
Lewis, of Llangollen, who 
attended the Congress at Bel- 
air, that the proceedings did 
not include some formal trib- 
ute to the memor}^, the life 
and the attainments of this 
good and wise man. This 
omission was not intentional 
and seems to have been un- 
avoidable, owing to tiie peculiar circumstances; but it 
seems not unfitting that in this memorial volume there 
should be a page set apart for him to whose exalted char- 
acter, eminent scholarship and pure precep this descend-- 
ants owe so much, and (.0 which tliey point witli pride. 

Few of us are fitted to write his history, and the writer 
of this least of all, having never seen him and having 
knowledge of him only through the tradition of an elder 
generation ; and yet it seems that a lil'e whose sweet and 
helpful influence can reach over a gap like that and take 
hold of lives of unborn generations is one whose memory 
and whose praise maj'^ well be the theme of their highest, 
eulogy. 



beWis (Jon^ress. ♦ • ug 



He is presented to our minds as the very embodiment of 
those virtues which go to make up true manhood. Schol- 
arly, genial, hospitable, true-hearted, brave and manly in 
every instinct and every action. It would be hard to anal- 
yze his character, harder probably because it was so simple, 
or rather that the elements were so thoroughly blended 
and the whole so harmonious that to give undue promi- 
nence to any would make a false impression. Much is ex- 
pressed in the single sentence : " He was a good teacher." 
He loved the young and devoted his life to them. He 
possessed their confidence and their love, and through 
this he led them upward into j^aths of knowledge and wis- 
dom. 

It is a great thing to be a scholar, and he was one — but 
it is a greater thing to be able to impart the love of knowl- 
edge — the thirst for learning to others, and this be could 
do as few other men could. 

We love to think of him as he is presented to us in the 
reminiscences of those who knew him. In his country 
home, beloved Llangollen, surrounded by his family, his 
scholars and friends, an elite circle, of which he was ever 
the leading spirit. Full of kindly humor and tender ss^m- 
pathy, enthusiastic in exploring every new field of science, 
devoted to his books but ready to leave them when the 
claims of social life demanded, always striving for the best 
and bringing out the best that was in all around him, 
what wonder he was beloved. 

Such was John Lewis, of Llagollen, the cultured scholar, 
the skilled teacher, the polished gentleman, the true friend, 
the affectionate husband and father. 

The following obituary notice, which appeared in the 
Frankfort Commonwealth August 28, 1858, shortly after 



120 ♦ ♦ IseWis (Jon^ress. ♦ ♦ 

his death, Avas written by one who knew him well, and is 
eminenth' appropriate to be inserted here : 

DEATH OF JOHN LEWIS, OF LLANGOLLEN. 

It is with much regret f-hat we record the death of John 
Lewis, Esq., which occurred at his residence in this city on 
Sunday, the 15th inst., and we can not let this occasion 
pass without a notice at some length of this good and wise 
man. Mr. Lewis was formerly of Llangollen, Spotsylvania 
county, Virginia ; born on the 25th of February, 1784, he 
was, consequently, in the 75th year of his age. 

He w^as the son of Col. Zachary Lewis, of Bel-air, in 
Spotsylvania county. His father was the messmate of 
Gen. Washington in the war with the French, and be- 
queathed to his son his small sword, worn at that time, 
and his j^owder-horn, with looking-glass in the reverse, 
which wds used by the chieftian and himself at their camp 
toilet. These relics, prized for their associations, have 
been carefully preserved to this time, and bequeathed to 
two of his grandsons, who are named after him. 

Having caught the military ardor of his father, we find 
him, in 1812, in command of a troop of horse, and en- 
trusted with watching the movements of the British fleet 
in the Potomac, which was attempting constant depreda- 
tions on the adjoining countr}'. While so engaged he was 
afflicted with camp fever, which brought him to the verge 
of the grave, and he was thus prevented from fui'ther par- 
ticipation in the military operations of that day. 
, In early life he was engaged actively in the practice of 
law, but having a natural fondness for teaching, he estab- 
lished, a high school for young men at Llangollen, in A^ir- 
ginia, and for many years taught successfully A^'irginia's 



♦ ♦ beWis (J^on^ress. ♦ ♦ I2i 

most noble sons, earning a reputation as an instructor 
equaled by few and surpassed by none. He declined sev- 
eral offers of the professorships of colleges in his native 
State, preferring to teach his school at home. 

ReuDoving to George-town, Kentuck}-, in 1832, he there 
established a female academy, but retaining his love for 
the country, in a few years he came to this vicinity and 
has, with a short intermission, continued at his post until 
the last. He seemed to seek no pleasure above that of im- 
parting to the young his varied and extensive knowledge. 
He was a fine classical schobir and mathematician ; was 
well acquainted with the French, Spanish and Italian lan- 
guages, unusually so with the physical sciences, and in the 
department of belles lettres his acquirements were unsur- 
passed by anyone within our knowledge. 

Besides being a very frequent contributor to the leading 
journals cf the past times, in which he acquired considera- 
ble distinction, he was the author of a system of arithme- 
tic, and of various works of fiction in poetry and prose, 
among the latter of " Young Kate, or the Rescue." 

A model gentleman of the old school, he possessed very 
fine conversational powers, and great tenderness of feeling, 
which were continually manifested towards all who came 
in contact with him, especially toward his children and 
grandchildren. Among his relatives and connections in 
his native State are numbered men distinguished in law 
and politics, among others Judge Daniel, of the United 
States Supreme Court, whose sister he married. 

For some fourteen vears past he had been a communi- 
cant of the Old School Presbyterian Church. As a Chris- 
tian he was as simple and unostentatious as a child, yet he 
possessed all the strength of a mature Christian. During 



122 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. 



the whole of his last illness he bore his sufferings with 
perfect patience and resignation, and with a mind con- 
scious to the last. He, in his death, gave the most tri- 
umphant proof of a victory through Christ ever witnessed 
by those who were most accustomed to see men die. Ver- 
ily, a good and wise man has fallen in our midst. 



■^1 HE followino; obituarv notice of Mrs. Anne Terrell 
_L Lewis is from the pen of her son, John Lewis, of 
Llangollen : 

Died, at her residence in Spotsylvania county, on Thurs- 
day, the 30th of November, 1820, Mrs. Anne Lewis, relict 
of Colonel Zachary Lewis, deceased, in her 73d year, after 
an illness of nineteen days. 

In the death of this truly good lady a large circle of 
relatives and friends, and society at large, have lost one of 
its brightest ornaments. She has lived a long and virtuous, 
life, equaled by few and excelled by none. She will long 
be remembered by all who knew her, and the best proof of 
her inestimable worth is the sincere regret manifested by 
her surviving acquaintances. At a good old age she has 
left this world, m the full hope of finding a better, with the 
pleasing reflection of a well-spent life. 

JUVENIS. 



J'lemorial jablet to Qjeorge Wythe. 



A Y /iLLIAMSBCRG, VA.— During the recent bi-cen- 
VV tennial celebration of William and Mary, Mr. Rob- 
•ert M. Hughes, of Norfolk, on the part of the State Bar 
Association, presented, in a chaste and appropriate speech, 
to the custody of the college ofhcers a beautiful memorial 
tablet of Chancellor George Wythe, which is placed in the 
chapel, beneath which lie the bones of many distinguished 
Virginians. The tablet is of bronze, mounted on antique 
■c>ak, and the inscription is in black letters, and reads as 
follows : 

GEORGE WYTHE, LL. D., 

Member of the Continental Congress, signer of the Declaration of 

Independence, Member of the Committee of 1779 on Revision 

of the Laws of Virginia, Judge of the Chancery Court, 

First Professor of Law in the College 

of William and Mary, 

THE AMERICAN ARISTIDES. 

He was an exemplar of all that was noble and elevating in the pro- 
fession of the law. 

A. D. 1893. 

This tablet is erected by the Virginia Bar Association 

IN TRIBUTE TO 

His courage as a patriot. 

His ability as an instructor. 

His uprightness as a lawyer. 

His purity as a judge. 



LIST OF MEMBERS 



-OK THE- 



CSWI§ FA^n,Y 



-AITENDING THE- 



LEWIS CONGRESS, 

3EU-AI-R, VI-RSI/MIA. 



DESCENDANTS OF JOHN LEWIS, OF LLANGOLLEN. 

Richmond A. Lewis, M. D., Richmond, Virginia. 
Waller Holladay Lewis, Belair, Franklin county, Ken- 
tucky. 

Walter Lewis Patteson, Springfield, Illinois. 
John A. Lewis, M. D., Georgetown, Kentucky. 
Richmond Lewis, Richmond. Virginia. 
George Alexander Lewis, Frankfort, Kentucky. 
Sydney Scott Lewis, Georgetown, Kentucky. 
John Moncure Lewis, Richmond, Virginia. 

DESCENDANTS OF DR. RICHMOND LEWIS, OF BRECKNOCK, 

VIRGINIA. 

B. R. A. Scott, Galveston, Texas. 
Mrs. B. R. A. Scott, Galveston, Texas. 
Lucy Harper Scott, Galveston, Texas. 
Mary Anderson Scott, Galveston, Texas. 
John Thomson Scott, Galveston, Texas. 
Sarah Lewis Scott, Galveston, Texas. 



♦ * bG\A)is (;Ot\|rGSS. * ♦ 125 

B. R. A. Scott, Jr., Galveston, Texas. 
Harper Anderson Scott, Galveston, Texas. 
Frances Greenliow Scott, Bel-air, Virginia. 
Mildred Scott Tliurman, Bel-air, Virginia. 
Kathryn Mclntire Baker, Chicago, Illinois. 
Elizabeth Lewis Minor, Rapidan, Virginia, 
N. E. Scott, Bel-air, Virginia. 

Margaret Eleanor Virginia Elizabetli Minor. Rapidan, 
Virginia. 

DI^SCE^DANTS OF .\rARY \V. LEWIS (hILL). 

J. O. Smith, Louisa county, Virginia. 
Edmonia V. Harris, Louisa county, Virginia. 

DESCEXDAXTS OF HULDAH FOXTAINE LEWIS (HOLLADAY). 

Dr. W. L. Holladay, Ra}iidan, Virginia. 
John Waller Holladay, Prospect Hill, Virginia. 
Jean Thompson Holladay, Charlottesville, Virginia. 
W. P. Conwa}', Conway Farm, Virginia. 

DESCENDANTS OF BETTY LEWIS (HOLLADAY'). 

Clara Lawrence Rawlins, Ellangowan, Virginia. 

Hugh Livingston Boggs, Washington, D. C. 

(The descendants of Mrs. Huldah Fontaine Lewis Holla- 
day before mentioned, are also those of Mrs. Betty Lewis 
Holladay, whose son Lewis married his cousin Huldah.) 

DESCENDANTS OF BENJAMIN LEWIS, HENRICO COUNTY, VIR- 
GINIA. 

J. 0. Smith, Louisa county, Virginia. 

Hallie Greenhow^ Smith, Louisa county, Virginia. 

Mary W. Bouldin, Charlotte county, Virginia. 



126 ♦ ♦ l9e\A)is ^on^ress. 



DESCENDANTS OF WALLER LEWIS, OF SPOTSYLVANIA COUNTY, 

VIRGINIA. 

Sarah L. Baptist, Spotsylvania county. 
Harry L. Baptist, Spotsylvania county. 
Annie W. Wiglesworth, Richmond, Virginia. 

DESCENDANTS OF DOROTHEA LEWIS. 

J. O. Smith, Louisa county, A'^irginia. 

D. B. Harris, Woodville, Virginia. 

Mrs. Susan V. Graves (representing her daughter, Richie 
Morris Graves, sixth in descent from Dorothea Lewis, who 
married Charles Smith). 

In the haste of copying from the register the following 
were accidentally omitted from the above list: 

DESCENDANTS OF DR. RICHMOND Lfi;\VIS, OF BRECKNOCK. 

John Richard Thurman, Albemarle, Va. 
Robert Argyle Thurman, Albemarle, A^a. 
Mrs. Agnes Thurman, Albemarle, Va. 
Sallie Ambrose Lee, Bel-air, Va. 

DESCENDANTS OF JOHN LEWIS, OF LLANGOLLEN. 

Lizzie Price Allison, Richmond, Va. 
John Crano Allison, Richmond, Va. 

VISITORS. 

James B. Green, L^niversity of Virginia. 

Eugene Atkinson. 

Aunt Fannv, Mrs. Col. Zacharv Lewis' maid, Bel-air, Va, 



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foITTLEPAGE relics, those connected with Gen. Lewis 
Littlepage, Pi-ivy Councilor of Stanislaus, last king 
of Poland : Star of the Order of St. Stanislaus : 
ribbon worn witli court dress ; original sketch of fleets at 
Gibraltar made by Littlepage, from the deck of the admiral's 
galley; also copy, elaborately drawn and finished ; sketch 
of military position at Oczakow. on the Black Sea, where 
Littlepage served, commanding flotilla ; sketch No. 2 of 
same ; letter from Gener;d Littlepage giving an account to 
family, in Spotsylvania, of his visit to Washington at his 
Mount Vernon ; j)ami)hlet containing Mr Jay's side of 
controversy with Genera' Littlepage ; part of General Lit- 
tlepage's side as published; letter of W. Gardiner to General 
Littlepage ; letter of General Littlepage to his uncle Ben- 
jamin Lewis ; letter of Ma,ior Holladay to General Little- 
page ; W. Holladay's refutation to unpleasant reports 
about General Littlepage. 

Letter of Thomas Jefferson to Waller Holladay. 

The spoons of Sarah Travers, niece of Mary Washing- 
ton, a very handsome set, complete with her name. These 
were not brought hut are in possession of the family. They 
are at Locust Hill, in .llbemarle county; belong to Mrs. 
Sarah Travers Scott Anderson. 

Sword of General Washington given to Colonel Zachary 
Lewis, of Bel-air; pi)wder horn with mirror in reverse, for 



128 ♦ ♦ beWis Qon|rGss. 



shaving — used in camp toilets by General Washington and 
Colonel Lewis; commission of Colonel Zachery Lewis in 
troops for French and Indian War. 

Silhouette of Dr. Richmond Lewis; book of extracts of 
Mrs. Governor Wood, aunt of Mrs. E. T. Lewis, of Breck- 
nock; letters of Dr. James M. Scott; will of Zachary Lewis 
II; will of Zachary Lewis III; book of extracts of Mrs. J. 
M. Scott; book of extracts of Huldah Lewis; John M. 
Daniel's latch key; Examiner; S. T. Lewis's notes on his- 
tory; book of extracts; geographical notes of some of the 
famil3\ 

Tabular views of language, a beautiful study in phi- 
lology, by John Lewis, of Llangollen; analytical outlines, 
by John Lewis. ' 

Sarah Lewis' book of extracts, English, French and 
Italian; poems, Miss Ann Boggs and others; Brecknock 
table funiture; family Bible of Dr. Richmond Lewis; book 
of extracts, French and English, apparently Mrs. Huldah 
Holladay's. 

Letter to Mr. Jefferson from Waller Holladay; letter to 
Mr. Waller Holladay from Mr. Thomas Ritchie ; letter to 
General Littlepage from Mr. (/armichael, Madrid ; letter 
(copy) of General Buxhoeoden, of Warsaw, to General 
Littlepage ; letter (copy) of General Littlepage to the 
Abbe Thigiotti ; letter of Gen* ral Littlepage to General 
Buxhoeoden ; notice of General Littlepage by some un- 
known person ; controversy of General Littlepage with the 
Court of Vienna ; album of poetry, Huldah Lewis ; Mrs. 
Frances Greenhow's fan ; Mrs. Frances Greenhow's trunk ; 
first volume of Revised Code of Virginia, 1814. 

Scrap of plantation clotli woven in the ante-emancipa- 
tion days for the negroes ; little souvenir booklet given by 



♦ ♦ beWis fon^ress. ♦ ♦ 129 

Miss E. T. Lewis to Mrs. Sarah Scott; a Wild Rose, painted 
by Mrs. Sarah Scott; Mrs. Anne f.evvis' workbox ; Mrs. E. 
T. Lewis' paint box; little box of Mrs. E. T. Lewis'; quill 
basket made by Miss Ann Boggs. (An amber necklace 
of Mary Waller, wife of Zachary Lewis II, was not brought 
but is in possession of the family.) Portraits (copies) of 
Charles Smith, husband of Dorothea Lewis, and of Meri- 
wether Lewis, of Locust Hill, the explorer of the West ; 
picture of Judge Peter Vivian Daniel, of the U. S. Su- 
preme Court, in liis judicial robes ; picture of General 
David B. Harris, of Woodville ; samples worked by Mrs. 
Anne Lewis (1 think). 

Some numbers of the Grand Magazine, 1760 ; a letter of 
Dr. Richmond Lewis, 1794; chair in which LaFayette sat; 
grant, of Bel-air, from George II, 1728 ; book containing 
book-plate (armorial) of George W\'the, signer of the Dec- 
laration of Independence ; Latin Testament of John Lewis, 
1746 ; French Bible with Psalms and music of Dr. Rich- 
mond Lewis ; letter of Meriwether Lewis, explorer of the 
West, Governor of Missouri (I think); land grant with 
signature of Lord Fairfax ; mortar of Dr. Richmond Lewis ; 
letters of General Littlepage to various persons and other 
letters ; notes by W. Holladay ; pistol used by Captain 
John Lewis during; the war 1812. 



^pF^^ms. 




^ames f^ "fjolladay. 



ANY of us knew the kinsmnn wliom this sketch 
makes an effort to recall to the circle of cousins 
-"- ^ he loved, and tliose who do will never for- 
get the kind face, with its wonderful charm of expression, 
beyond that of almost any face I have ever seen. In it 
lay a power to inspire in the one on whom was turned 
tliat gentle look of courteous and sympathetic respect and 
trust, a new feeling of confidence in one's own heart — be- 
cause he, whose standard was so pure and high, trusted it. 
How perfectly it expressed that of which his soul was full 
— the charity that thinketh no evil ; what an appeal it was 
to the best that is in us to deserve such sweet confidence! The 
memory of that look of his is like a benediction, and teaches- 
such a precious lesson that we do well to cherish it — the 
lesson that a sure road to influence others to better things 
is to believe in them. I have been so struck with the im- 
pression Cousin James' manner seeme'd to have with every- 
body. I think it would soften the hardest, would be 
reflected in courtesy even by the roughest, would strike a 
spark of nobleness even from the most clod-like nature — 



beWis (;on^rGSS. 



that it would occur to me to wonder wliat would be the 
•t^ffect of a face and manner like that — of course with his 
liieart behind it — among the lowest and most lost — among 
<;onvicts for instance. I believe his tender charity would. 
iSO have covered the sin in each case, and would so have 
found, in no matter how much ruin, the image of some 
heavenly possibility — that the most despairing would have 
seen that this good man had hope of him — and would 
have had the daring thought — why not have hope of him- 
self? I think St. Vincent must have had such a face, and 
the gallev slaves must have loved him. 



J"lisses riizabeth I ravers leNA/ls 

• and ]»lary (Jverton leNA/is. 



BY GEORGE A. LEWIS. 



HLS little volume luivinfy to some extent grown be- 
I yon<l the object for which it was originally intended 
— viz: the preservation of the proceedings of the Lewis Con- 
gress in permanent form — I deem it not inappropriate that 
it should contain also a brief sketch of the lives of the 
noble, Christian women whose names head this chapter. 

Rarely intelligent, with minds containing rich stores of 
valuable imformation, which they delighted to impart to the 
younger generation, they have left the indelible impress of 
their characters upon the minds of their nieces and neph- 
ews, even to the sjcond generation. Having grown from 
infancy to almost young manhood in the society of these 
(xodly women, I am conscious that their precept and ex- 
ample lias, to some extent, influenced ray own life — for their 
teaching in all things was for good — and I desire to record 
this simple tribute of affectionate remembrance of them 
for the benefit of those to come after — or those who never 
enjoyed the privilege of their ac(juaintanco. Modest, re- 
fined and elegant ladies of the old school, they were calcu- 
lated to attract attention in any company, for their mental 
attainments were of the highest order. The elder, being of 
a more damestic turn, found her greatest pleasure in the 



4 ♦ ♦ beWis ^on^ress. ♦ ♦ 

management of household affairs, while the younger, hav- 
ing imbibed her father's love of teaching, spent many 
years of her life in the school-room, and from her the 
younger children of her brothers and sisters received their 
earliest instruction in the rudimentary branches of an ed- 
ucation. 

Being the only daughters of John Lewis, of Llangollen, 
who never married, it was but natural that they should 
become almost inseparable companions, and associated in 
our minds to such an extent that we rarely spoke of them 
singl}^, but almost always as Aunt Bet and Aunt Mollie. 

It seems to me that I must have known Aunt Bet always, 
for my earliest recollection is of sitting at her feet and 
watching her, while with deft fingers she fashioned some- 
thing wonderful to my childish eyes from bird's plumage, 
or from cloth or thread with cambric or knitting needle. 
'Of Aunt Mollie I have no recollection prior to a date when 
she returned from a visit to my Aunt Frances Mitchell, in 
Mississippi, bringing with her a large sxipply of peanuts and 
"the skin of a rattle-snake stuffed — my first knowledge of 
the goober and the reptile being gained from these. 

Passionately fond of flowers, they delighted to beautify 
their home with blooming plants of all kinds and in fur- 
therance of this object made frequent visits in the spring- 
time to "Prospect Hill," a high bluff overlooking the 
waters of Elkhorn, near the Kentucky Llangollen, in 
search of wild flowers. How we, as children, delighted to 
accompany them on these jaunts and listen with eagerness 
to their instructive conversation. 

Having been born and reared to young womanhood in Vir- 
ginia, they were devotedly attached to the Old Dominion, 
.and hearino- them describe with minute detail their old 



beWis ^on^ress. 



home and the delights of chihihood there, caused my 
youthful imagination to picture it as a veritable Eden and 
•created within me an intense desire to set foot upon the 
spot where they had played in childish glee and witness 
the scenes which had given them so great pleasure — a de- 
sire which was never attained until nearing middle life, 
after the devastating hand of war and the tooth of time 
had wrought a great and sad change. Entertaining so 
great a love for their native State, it was fitting that they 
should return there to spend their last days amid kindred 
and friends, and when the end came to each to be laid be- 
neath its soil — their last resting place surrounded by the 
graves of those so dear to both while in life. 

Earlj' in 1861 they left us to visit friends and relatives 
near the scenes of their childhood in Virginia and spent 
the succeeding terrible four years in the South, suffering 
great privation on account of the unhappy war, and only 
returning to Kentucky at its close for a few years, when 
they again went to Virginia to reside permanently. Annt 
Bet passed away in October, 1886, but Aunt Mollie survived 
until September, 1894, her death occurring a few days after 
the gathering of her kindred in the Lewis Congress. Hav- 
ing enjoyed almost perfect health all summer, she had 
looked forward to that meeting with anticipations of great 
pleasure, and had gone up from Richmond to the old home 
•of her grandfather, at Bel-air, that she might be present, but 
was taken ill and was removed to Prospect Hill, the home 
•of her sister in the neighborhood, and the knowledge that 
she hovered upon tlie brink of the dark river cast a shadow 
upon the hearts of tliose who attended the meeting. The 
■end came during the still watches of the night of Septem- 
ber 6th and on the morning of the 8th we laid her to rest 
in the family burying ground. Six of her nephews — 
three from Kentucky, two of Virginia and one from Illinois 
— bearing her remains to the tomb. 



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