HAROLD B. LEE LIBRARY
8HIQHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY
IT- Mom 1^^^
WKWECT and G. S.
ROLL # CALL #
' 1694. Lewis Co/ng-rbss. 1894.
Tu;o Hui7dredtl? fl'?'?'^^''S3ry
OF THEIR RESIDENCE IN VIRGINIA
BEL-AIR, SPOTSYLVANIA COUNTY,
SEPTEMBER 4TH, 1894.
FRANKFORT, KY :
GEO. A. LEWIS, Pf^lNTER.
HAROLD a LEE LIBRAfiT
8R1QHAM Y0UN6 UNIVCRUtt
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
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.
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.
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
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
One of the daughters married a Meriwether, another a
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.
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
riches/' to which was added "Honor thy father and thy
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.
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-
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
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,
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
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
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
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
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
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
Miss Scott— " Did you know Aunt Hill, Aunt Fannie? Was she
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
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.
WARNER LEWIS COAT OF ARMS.
/?ddress of Welcome and [\esiDonse.
TyA R. JAMES B. GREEX, of the University of Virginia,
± ^ on behalf of the hostess, delivered the following
address of welcome:
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
-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-
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'
(LARGELY FROM THE REMINISCENCES OP MARY OVERTON LEWIS,
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
[\ev. f adwallader lewis.
6® 6© ©9®9
BY HIS SOX, JOHN A. LEWIS, OF GEORGETOWN, KY.
Lewis was the sec-
ond child and the
ehlest son of John and
Jean Wood Lewis, of
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
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-
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,
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
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
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-
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-
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
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-
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
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-
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
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
BY HIS SON GEO. A. LEWIS.
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
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
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:
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
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
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
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.
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-
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
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.
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.
A. A, Pattesox.
Douglas Avenue, West Springfield, Illinois, March 2,
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,
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
Richmond Cadwallader, born June 24, 1864, died May 1,
John Lewis, born June 9, 1853, died June 14, 1853.
Caroline Louisa, born November 1, 1856, died January
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
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-
i'h's. ))arah [ravers ^cott,
* \0 eom})lete outline
CV I of tlie life of James
M. Scott, of Bel-aii%and Sa-
rah, his wife, will be given
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.
"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
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
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
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
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
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-
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.
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
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
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
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.
John JeNA/is, of [langollen.
BY WALTER LEWIS PATTESON.
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,
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-
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
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.
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
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
DESCENDANTS OF JOHN LEWIS, OF LLANGOLLEN.
Richmond A. Lewis, M. D., Richmond, Virginia.
Waller Holladay Lewis, Belair, Franklin county, Ken-
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,
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,
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-
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,
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.
James B. Green, L^niversity of Virginia.
Aunt Fannv, Mrs. Col. Zacharv Lewis' maid, Bel-air, Va,
S» c C'
— '^ ty T
B- o g i
— on ^ f;
_ CB n ^
2 W I -
— w. » i.
S B> R
so 1-i S.
S P x
I £ g
list of Keli
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
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
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.
^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 —
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-
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
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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