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Chronicles of the Boit family and their descendants and of other allied families Boit, Robert Apthorp, 1846-1919 1915

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•- Lfl
A  TyT't.'S i'\'

l MX
A. D. 1915
 Typography and Presswork by
S. J. Parkhill & Company
Boston, U.S.A.
 19 Colchester St.
Brookline, Mass.
This book is lovingly dedicated to the
oldest and dearest friend of my long
life — Mrs. Arthur   (Boit)   Hunnewell.
Robert Apthorp Boit
April 29, 1915.
This book is written primarily for the sake of my
children who know little or nothing of their ancestry,
and to them it is addressed. But it is also intended for
my grandchildren and those who may follow them —
especially those of the name of Boit if such there be.
If they read these pages they will learn that very few
of their ancestral relations, on my side of the house,
have distinguished themselves in public life, but that
they have been respectable and well-educated ladies and
gentlemen with good positions in the communities in
which they have lived.
Many of them have shown literary and artistic tastes,
and some few have been well-known writers and painters.
So far as I have studied them I have found little to
condemn and much to praise in their refined and simple
lives. Some have been rich and some poor, but I have
failed to discover records of any who were not respectable and respected.
Of all among them there is little doubt but that John
Boit, of Boston, master-mariner, led the most adventurous and exciting life. He proved himself to be a brave
and intelligent man — able to cope with man and circumstance— and full of that literary taste so often
found among his descendants. I hope when my children and their children have read what I have written
I   Ii
I. John Boit (i) in America
II. John Boit (2)    .   .    .    .
III. Family of John Boit (2)
IV. Edward Darley Boit (3)
V. Julia Overing Boit .    .
VI. The Hubbard Family   .
VII. John Hubbard (7).   .   .
VIII. Edward Darley Boit (4)
IX. Elizabeth Greene Boit (4)
X. Robert Apthorp Boit (4)
XI. Jane Hubbard Boit (4)
XII. John Boit (4)   .    .    .    .
XIII. Boit Genealogical Tables
XIV. Hubbard Genealogical Tables.
XV.    Lilian Willis Boit and the
Grinnell Family	
XVI.    General   Hugh Mercer  and
Mercer Family	
XVII.    Georgia  Mercer  Boit and Cyrus
XVIII.    References.    Boit Family  in
England and America .    .
1     )
I; .
' M
Chapter   I
"OUR great-great-grandfather, John Boit (i), was
of French and English extraction.    He was the
son of Jacque Boit of Gruchet in  Normandy,
France, and Susan Shawd of Rigate in Surrey, England.
References to the records of these Boits will be found
in my list of references at the end of the book.
The first record which I have succeeded in finding of
the family of Boit in England, is in the register of the
French Church, Threadneedle Street, London, in 1675, 1675
of Jeane Boite, " a witness to the baptism of Jeane Cat-
erine fille de Pierre Castille and Caterine Bellier sa
In the " Domizations and Naturalizations of Aliens in
England and Ireland," Joseph Boitte is entered March 5,
1690, and also in " 1698 Joseph Boit born at Luc (Le
Luc) in Provence, in France, son of Matthew Boit and
Clara his wife."
Therefore, some of the Boit family in England came
from the very loveliest part of France, bordering the
Mediterranean, just back of the Riviera, and not far east
of Toulon.
■ iii-ii
Chronicles of
In the Northeast of London is Spitalfields, which derives its name from the Hospital of St. Mary founded
1197   in 1197.    Thither came many French emigres after the
1685   revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, and here
they established those silk manufactories which have
been famous even unto this day.    Here Jacque Boit
and his wife Susanne Shawd gave birth to their numer-
173     ous family, and between the years 1738 and 1750 had
them baptized in the Church of La Patente, as its registers show.
Whether John Boit (i) came direct from London to
Boston, or first to the West Indies and thence to Boston
is not clearly established. As he was always a West
India merchant from the time he first came to Boston,
as a young man, it is by no means unlikely he prepared
himself for this business by a sojourn in the West
My father, who took very little interest in genealogy,
was under the impression that the Boits were of Scotch
origin, and of the same name and descent as the Boyds.
But although it is said that the Boyds were descended
from Robert Boyt or Boit or Boyd or Boydell — meaning Robert the Fair — my own study of the family
leads me to believe they are of the above said French
origin, from Huguenots who settled in England. Both
my father's father and mother died in his early youth,
which accounts in a measure for his lack of correct
information regarding the history of his family.
ImT lit     mJLri 1 «i%uhU1L.--.LL*LllUla^ll. i   i^-m rU'-''!..'    .. -Tr.,T.-..-
 The Boit Family 3
There have been marked characteristics in the Boit
family, which have seemed to me strikingly French — and
notably among them, their hot tempers, and gaiety, and
humor, and ready wit — traits conspicuous in very many
of them.
Charles Boit, the miniature painter, one of the
greatest of his day, was, I do not doubt, of this same
origin. He was born of French parentage in Stockholm,
whither his parents went at about the same period that
the first Boits migrated to England. When he was
twenty years old, in 1683, he, too, went to England
to become a painter. He began by giving drawing-lessons to children and young people. He fell in love with
one of his pupils, who was the daughter of some prominent English gentleman, and they were about to elope,
when the plot was discovered by her family, and young
Boit was seized and cast into prison. He remained in
prison for two years, and while there devoted himself to
the study of enamelling, in which he afterwards became
It was not many years before his talent was recognized in England and he was patronized by the Court.
He was greatly admired by Sir Horace Walpole, who
bought several examples of his work. Walpole said that
up to that time his enamels had never been surpassed.
For some of his enamelled portraits he received as much
as ^500 apiece, which was a very high price for such
work.    On a large picture he was painting for Royalty
in        111
4 Chronicles of
he was advanced, at first, ;£i,ooo, and then, again, ^700,
but he never finished it. There were portraits by him at
Kensington and at Bedford House. Walpole said that
Miss Reade, the paintress, had a very fine head of Boit's
own daughter enamelled by him from a picture by Dahl.
This daughter married a Mr. Graham of London.
Boit's principal enamel is one of the Imperial family
of Austria, and is in Vienna. It is on gold and is twelve
inches wide by eighteen inches high. At what was
known as the Strawberry Hill sale, a miniature by Boit,
of Cromwell after Cooper, was sold for twenty-six guineas.
This is no doubt the miniature (enamel) by Charles Boit
which was owned by my Aunt Julia (Boit) Sturgis, wife
of Russell Sturgis of London. Before her death she
gave it to your Uncle Edward Boit, who in turn presented it to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, where it is
to be seen.    It is very beautiful.
Charles Boit got into debt in England and fled to
France, where he was received and countenanced by the
Regent, and given an apartment and a pension of ^250
per annum. He was greatly patronized by the French
1717 vCourt and became a member of the Academy in 1717.
1726 He died in Paris in 1726, when he was sixty-three
years old.
Your great-great-grandfather, John Boit (1), was born
1733   in 1733 and came to Boston between 1755 and 1760,
at the age of twenty-five or thirty. In the records
of the day he is spoken of as a trader, a grocer, and a
w l
 The Boit Family 5
merchant. Although he became a prominent merchant
in Boston, he certainly was not recorded as a citizen
until during the Revolution, if at all. This is shown by
the following interesting petition of certain citizens of
Boston to the assessors of the town :
" Gentlemen it is our opinion that the following persons, inhabitants of other towns in this or neighboring states, ought to be taxed
here, for the real estate they occupy and the business they do
here, it being agreeable to law, viz: Archibald Mercer, William
Eskine, Henry Michel, . . . Blair, Henry Livingston, John Boit.
John Scollay, Sam Austin, Harbottle Dorr,
Thomas Grenough, Jonathan Williams "
August 18, 1777.
After this he was regularly taxed, and taxed, and it
was apparent from the amount of his taxes that he was
among those of the largest means in Boston at that
time. However, we must not forget that then the civil
population of Boston probably did not exceed eight or
ten thousand inhabitants. General Gage had a census
ofthe civilian population of Boston taken in 1775 and
found it to be — or reported to be — sixty-five hundred
and seventy-three. Earlier than that, however, the population of Boston had been from eighteen thousand to
twenty thousand, and in 1783 it was said to have been
again eighteen thousand; while twenty years later it had
Chronicles of
risen to thirty-five thousand. It is very hard to realize
in these days what a little place Boston was at the time
of the Revolution.
Paul Revere speaks of John Boit as one of Boston's
leading citizens.
At the outbreak of the Revolution John Boit (i) was
nearly fifty years of age, and his sons thirteen and two
years old, which no doubt accounts for the fact that they
took no active part in the military affairs of the time.
This great-great-grandfather of yours was, as I have
said, a merchant and importer, dealing chiefly in "East
and West India goods. Early in life his store was near
the market (Faneuil Hall), but later he bought a store on
Doane's Wharf to be near his vessels and their cargoes,
and it happened that in one of the lofts of this store he
died. He was a successful man, and owned, and dealt in
real estate in addition to his regular business. He
lived in a good-sized house on Green Lane — now
Green Street — with land running down to the Mill
1782 Pond as it was called. Later, in 1782, he purchased this
house and land from the owner, one Perez Morton, and
1797 when he put a mortgage on it, in 1797, he stated that he
was still living there.
This Mill Pond was a large sheet of water stretching
from land on Green Lane to the foot of Copp's Hill,
covering all the low-lying lands of the present Haymarket
Square and adjacent streets. It was cut off from the
Charles River by a dike nearly half a mile long at or near
;*V; .**-'
'....■j --"'"
 The Boit Family
Causeway Street where the present North Station fronts.
Several tide-water mills were built where the sluice-ways
of this pond entered the river. This part of the town
with Cambridge Street, Leverett Street and others was
sometimes called West Boston.
Oddly enough in the Registry of Deeds is a deed entered on July 26, 1784, by this great-great-grandfather of 1784
yours, John Boit (1), and another great-great-grandfather
of two of you children, Nathaniel Willis, transferring
property of theirs on Hanover Street and the Mill Pond
to the Masonic Lodge.
I found also another deed of this John Boit witnessed
by Eliza Apthorp, a woman of the same name as that of
the wife of the man — Robert E. Apthorp — after whom,
three generations later, I was myself named.
March 15, 1782, the General Court determined to 1782
raise eighty-five men for the army for three years' service, and divided Boston into eighty-five classes for that
purpose — each class to pay for one man. In Ward 7
John Boit (1) was taxed ^12 14s. 6d. for this purpose
— one of the heaviest taxes paid in his class.
I find that in 1785 his taxes were higher than those 1785
of Martin Brimmer, or Daniel Hubbard, (another greatgrandfather of mine) or than those of many other
prominent men. Yet, if one can judge from the tax lists,
the property of Boston's leading citizens was exceedingly small at that time. Of course this, in a measure,
may have been due to the method of assessment; but
I   hi
Chronicles of
we must not forget that this was shortly after the
close of the Revolution, when the inhabitants of the
whole country had been reduced to very meagre belongings. Ten thousand dollars assessed valuation seemed
to indicate a relatively large estate in those days.
According to the records, at about this time, John
Boit had ten in his household, and a man-servant and
carriage. My father, who was not born for a long time
after his grandfather died, said that he was reputed to
have been a handsome and dignified man, very particular
about his dress, and a noticeable figure among the men
of his day. Certainly the dress of that period must have
set off at his best a man with a good carriage and figure.
Stocks, and ruffled shirts, and low-cut buff waistcoats, and
blue swallow-tailed coats with brass buttons, and low-cut
shoes with shiny buckles, and knee-breeches, and silk
stockings would not now strike us as very well adapted
to the hustling and bustling of our every-day downtown life. Yet thus the Boston gentlemen of that day
dressed. No doubt they had more time to spare and devoted more of it to their elaborate dress, and comported
themselves generally with more dignity than we do.
In those days, before marriage, it was the custom in
Boston to publish one's "marriage intentions," and on
the 17th of June, 1762, John Boit (1) published his intention to marry Hannah Atkins of Boston. Her father
was Henry Atkins and her mother Deliverance (Sears)
;-I  _'*■:.* 11
The Boit Family 9
Although I have not the date of the wedding, it is
evident they carried out their intentions in good faith,
for in the course of a year or so thereafter, their first
child, Henry, was baptized in the Second Church.
This church was afterwards called the New Brick
Church, on Hanover Street, and in it most of John Boit's
(1) children were baptized. This was the church of the
Mathers and Chandler Robbins. It is now at the corner
of Marlborough and Berkeley Streets. It had a distinguished history in our Colonial times, and is well worth
visiting for its tablets and monuments to eminent men.
However, in later life he changed his parish, for I find
when he died, | John Boit, merchant, 65 years, December 31, 1798" was buried at King's Chapel, according
to the records of that church. There also, thirty-one
years afterward, was buried his son " John Boit, Master
Mariner, 56 years, March 10, 1829."
The first son of John Boit (1) and Hannah Atkins was
Henry, born in 1763. For a while he followed the sea,
but left it when he was still young, and married a Spanish
woman. They settled in Barcelona, Spain, where he had
children. I know nothing of his family, though my
father, who was his nephew, said that while in India,
when a young man, he met an old gentleman from
Barcelona, who said he knew his Uncle Henry well, and
that he had two very beautiful daughters. My father
never but once saw his uncle. He was then passing
through Boston  on his way to Cuba, or other of the
1   II
Chronicles of
West India Islands, to look after some of his wife's
property. This was when my father was a boy. I have
heard it said he died on his journey home.
In the army of Don Carlos, the Spanish Pretender,
there was a General Boit, and I have often wondered if
it could be a son or grandson of this great-uncle of mine.
The name is peculiar, and it well might be. Thus there
are possible Barcelona relatives whom you may come
across some day in your wanderings.
The oldest daughter of John Boit (i) and Hannah
(Sears) Atkins was Hannah, who was baptized on the
1765 24th of February, 1765. She was brought up in Boston,
and at the best schools of the day, and of course in her
youth went through all the most troublous times in the
history of the city, for she was eleven when the Revolution began. Imagine the excitement of a young girl
of her age, when Paul Revere's ride was talked over at
her father's fireside: when she saw the defeated British
troops trailing back into Boston after the Concord fight:
when she heard the guns of the battle of Bunker
Hill, and stood in the garden by the Mill Pond listening,
and wondering how the tide of battle would turn.
How she must have rejoiced, when she saw the British
in their ships leaving the little town, and Washington
with his Revolutionary Army entering it.
She lived through those times of war and excitement
and distress, and when she was twenty-four years old,
1789   September 27, 1789, she married Mr. Crowell Hatch in
 The Boit Family
the West Church. He came from Cape Cod and had
started to make his living by the seas. He finally had
become one of the largest ship owners and richest men
of his day. He was much older than Hannah Boit when
he married her. He built a large house on Fort Hill,
(which hill has since been levelled), with terraces running
down to the waters of Boston Harbor. It was said to
have been surrounded by piazzas "like a Southern
house." I think this house was afterwards bought by
Thomas Handyside Perkins and is described in the letters
or reminiscences of one of Dr. Hugh Cabot's ancestors,
who was the wife or daughter of this Mr. Perkins.
These Hatches had a large family, but it ran to girls,
and so far as I know, none of their descendants are now
to be found in or about Boston.
At one time I corresponded with a Mrs. General
Chamberlayne, of Cuba, Allegheny County, New York,
who was a granddaughter of Hannah (Boit) Hatch. She
was an interesting and intelligent woman and had much
to tell me of her branch of the family. Among other
things, that one daughter of Crowell Hatch and Hannah
Boit, Ellen Mary by name, had married Hamilton Gibbs
of Boston, whose father was an aide-de-camp of General
She also told me that Hannah (Sears-Atkins) Boit's
cousin, named Delia Atkins, had married Judge Tudor,
(at one time Advocate-general, but never entitled to his
nickname  of  Judge), and  that  their  daughter   Delia
Chronicles of
married Commodore Charles Stewart, and again that the
daughter of Commodore Stewart and Delia Tudor married a Mr. Parnell and was the mother of Charles Stewart
Parnell, the celebrated Irishman. The son of the so-
called Judge Tudor was, I understand, the father of
Mr. Frederic Tudor, who made a fortune shipping ice to
the East Indies, and was the father of my friend, William
Tudor, who married my cousin, Elizabeth Whitwell.
Crowell Hatch was part owner of the ship Columbia,
of which more anon.
Crowell Hatch died in Jamaica Plain in 1814.
Mrs. General Chamberlayne, who was, as I have said,
his granddaughter through Hannah Boit, wrote me :
" I have heard my mother speak of the ship Columbia and
Captain Gray's discovery. After his return Grandfather Hatch
bought out the other owners and sent Captain Gray back with a
cargo of presents and bought the lands for millions of acres from
the Indians. I have seen the title deeds with the totems of the
Indians signing it. When the northwestern boundary was settled
by America and England, it was this discovery which gave the country to the United States. Congress gave Captain Gray a pension,
but took our lands and never paid us a cent. Congress is not fond
of paying just debts."
Hannah (Sears-Atkins) Boit, the first wife of John
Boit (1) died at the birth of her third child, who was
1767   named John, and baptized March 8, 1767.    What became of this John is not known.    A John Boit grew up
in Groton whose age seemed to correspond with this,
 The Boit Family
and whose descendants claimed he was the son of our
John Boit (1). Of course this may be, although there
are no records of him in our family, and he was not
mentioned in the will of our John Boit (1). Of this
John Boit of Groton there are no male descendants living
of the name of Boit.
On  the   3d. of  August,  1769,   in  the  New North    1769
Church,   your  great-great-grandfather   John   Boit   (1)
married for his second wife,  Sarah Brown of  Boston.
They were  married  by the Reverend Andrew Elliot.
It is from this wife we were descended.
The first child of this second marriage was Sarah,
named after her mother. She was baptized in the New
Brick Church on the 24th of June, 1770, and when she I770
was nearly twenty, in May, 1790, she married John
Duballet, who is represented in the records of the time
as a "wealthy French gentleman." He lived in a "large
new house" on Green Lane next to John Boit (1), and
had many dealings in real estate with his young wife's
father. Let us trust it was not on this account, that
Mr. Duballet, not long after his marriage, concluded to
return with his wife to his native country. They settled
in Bordeaux, France, where various members of the
family went to stay with them from time to time. They
both died in Bordeaux, and I think left no children.
The second child of John Boit (1) and Sarah Brown
was Rebecca, who was baptized on the 26th of April,
1772, in the New Brick Church.    There are no records    1772
Chronicles of
of this young girl's life who lived through such a stormy
period in Boston, other than that she died in March,
l793 I793> when she was twenty-one years old, and that she
was buried at King's Chapel.
The third child of John Boit's (i) second marriage was
1774 John Boit (2) born on the 15th of October, 1774, and
baptized on the 17th day of the same month in the New
Brick Church. This was about two years before the
outbreak of the Revolution. This young gentleman was
to have the honor of being your great-grandfather.
The fourth child of John Boit (1) and Sarah Brown
was Mary — or Polly as she was baptized on the 12th of
1776   May, 1776.   Mary Boit was never married, but lived until
1833 1833. She passed the last part of her life in Weymouth,
Massachusetts, and left her property to the descendant's
of her father's children by his first wife, Hannah Atkins.
I think I have now given the story of all the children
of John Boit (1), except that of his son by Sarah Brown
John Boit (2), your great-grandfather.
I   ■.
Chapter II
WHEN John Boit (2) was born there were four
older children in the house. His half-brother
Henry, who was eleven, his half-sister Hannah
who was nine, his sister Sarah, four, and his sister Rebecca,
two. I can see these young children during the summer
before his birth playing on the little lawn behind the
house on Green Lane, and sailing their boats on the
broad waters of the Mill Pond. I can see their pretty
young mother on the piazza, busy with her spinning
wheel, watching the children at play on the banks of
the pond, and thinking and hoping that the child to
come might prove to be a boy.
Perhaps in the cool of the late afternoon she would
walk with her older children up over Beacon Hill to the
Common to watch the manoeuvres of the red-coats and
their officers. For during the summer of 1774 there 1774
were four regiments of British troops encamped on
Boston Common, besides three companies of artillery
with twenty cannon; and this large body of hostile foreign soldiers and their daily doings must have been of
unflagging interest to the youth of the town.
This was four years after that March 4,  1770, when    1770
{'■ V
Chronicles of
v   m
the Boston Massacre aroused such a strong feeling of
hostility in the hearts of the citizens. And, again, it
was only just ten months before John Boit (2) was born,
1773 that on the night of December 16, 1773, the Boston
Tea-party took place, when some forty young men —
representing Mohawk Indians — boarded at their docks
the British ships, Dartmouth, Eleanor, and Beaver, and
threw overboard, into the waters of Boston Harbor, their
cargoes of tea. I recall these things to try to bring before you more vividly the conditions of this little town,
when John Boit (2) was born on the 15th of October,
J774 l774> and less than one year before his eldest sister,
Hannah, stood by the Mill Pond listening to the guns at
177$   Bunker Hill, on the 17th of June, 1775.
Of how he was taught or to what schools of Boston
John Boit (2) was sent we have no definite record. But
during his young life, the Boston Latin School, situated
on School Street, where the lower end of the Parker
House now stands, and opposite the rear end of King's
Chapel, was the leading school in Boston.
No doubt this is the school where he was educated in
his youth and at his death, in old age, he was buried at
King's Chapel directly across the street. It seems
strange that with all his years of wandering to the ends
of the earth, he should have come back at last and been
buried within a hundred feet of the spot where his school
days had been passed.
Of the fact that his education had been well grounded,
 The Boit Family
his journals and log books bear ample testimony. He
was fond of literature and did a great deal of reading on
his long voyages. He also had a taste for poetry, and
besides copying verses of others in his log books, he
wrote many lines of his own, some of which I shall quote
from later on and believe you will, with me, think there
is a very pleasant flavor of the sea about them.
His father was a large importer, as I have said; his
older brother Henry took to the sea in his youth; his
brother-in-law was an owner of ships, so it was not unnatural that he too should have been filled with the spirit
of adventure at an early age, and consumed with the
desire to get to sea. The smell of the sea was in his
nostrils and we all know what that is to men born on
our New England coast. The opportunity came to him
when he was sixteen, in 1790, when his brother-in-law,
Crowell Hatch, was fitting out the ship Columbia for her
second voyage of circumnavigation. He begged his
father and brother-in-law to let him go with her, even if
it were before the mast. They decided not to permit
him to do that, but concluded to appoint him fifth officer
under Captain Gray, the commander.
The ship Columbia was bound round the Horn to the
northwest coast of America, where she proposed to purchase a cargo of furs (preferably sealskins) from the
natives for blue cloth, ten-penny nails, trinkets and
other trifles prized by the Indians. Thence they would
proceed to China, and there trade their furs for spices,
Chronicles of
teas, silks, and such other products of the East as in
those days found a ready sale in our home markets.
This was the second circumnavigating voyage of the
ship Columbia. On her first expedition she was the
first ship to carry the United States flag round the world.
On that same first voyage she had brought to Boston a
prince of the Sandwich Islands, the son of King Kama-
hamaha, at the request of his father, and on their arrival
the officials of Boston met them at Long Wharf in great
pomp, and it is said that the prince, in a fine Sandwich
Island dress made wholly of feathers, marched up State
Street on the arm of the Mayor.
On her first voyage, Captain John Kendrick had started
in command of her and her consort, Lady Washington,
whose Captain was Robert Gray, but on the northwest
coast Captain Kendrick turned the Columbia over to
Captain Gray and took possession of the Lady Washington and traded with her, but never reported again
to her owners, nor returned to New England. He was
killed aboard of her in the Sandwich Islands by a salute
fired by an English vessel, lying nearby, one gun being
loaded by mistake.
The ship Columbia was built on the North River,
near Scituate and Plymouth, Mass. It is now a little
stream wholly unnavigable, but in those days many
vessels were built on its banks.
On referring to your great-grandfather's journal of the
voyage of the Columbia,  I  find that the  ship  sailed
.. I.....*
 The Boit Family
from Boston, September 28,  1790, when he was only   179°
sixteen years old, as I have said; yet his handwriting is
His journal heading is as follows :
good and well-formed.
" The ship Columbia was fitted out for a four years' cruise on a
trading voyage to the Northwest coast of America, China, etc. —
about 250 tons burthen, mounted 12 carriage guns, and navigated
with 50 men (including officers)—owned chiefly by Sam'l Brown,
Joseph Barrell and Crowell Hatch, Esqre — and commanded by
Robert Gray — cargo consisted of blue cloth, copper, iron, etc."
This great-grandfather of yours was himself in command of a vessel off Cape Horn on his twenty-first
birthday.    They were men in those days!
This day he reports in his journal as follows;
"April 23, 1791
; (Aboard Columbia.)        j^qj
" Between the hours of three and four p. m. departed this life
our dear friend Nancy the Goat, having been the Captain's companion on a former voyage round the Globe; but her spirited disposition for adventure led her to undertake a second voyage of circumnavigation. But the various changes of climate, and sudden
transition from the Polar colds to the Tropical heats of the Torrid
Zone, proved too much for a constitution naturally delicate. At
5 p. m. committed her body to the deep. She was lamented by
those who got a share of her milk / "
•  (.■.!. I
Chronicles of
El  H
He had a pretty humor for a boy of sixteen. No doubt
this quotation is trivial, but it has a personal touch that
brings him near to us.
Again from the journal Columbia's Voyage:
1792    "May 12, 1792 — W. Long. 46° 7' — Lat. 122° 47'
''This day saw an appearance of a spacious harbour
abrest the ship. Haul'd our wind for it — Observed two
sand bars making off with a passage between them to a
fine river. Out pinnace and sent her in ahead & followed
with the Ship under short sail — Carried in from }4 three
to 7 fm. and when over the bar had 10 fm. Water quite
fresh — The River extended to the N.E* as far as the eye
could reach and water fit to drink as far down as the
Bars at the entrance. We directed our course up this
noble river in search of a village. The beach was lined
with natives who ran along shore following the Ship.
Soon after above 20 canoes came off, and brought a good
lot of furs and Salmon — which last they sold two for a
board nail. The furs we likewise bought cheap for
copper and cloth. They appeared to view the ship with
the greatest astonishment, and no doubt we was the first
civilized people that they ever saw. . . . At length we
arrived opposite to a large village, situate on the North
Side of the River about 5 leagues from the entrance.
Came too in 10 fm. Sand. . . . The river at this place
was about 4 miles over.    We purchased 4 Otter skins for
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a sheet of copper — Beaver skins 2 spikes each and other
land furs 1 spike each. We lay in this place till the
20th May. . . . The natives talked the same language as
those further south but we could not learn it. Observed
that the canoes that came down River brought no Otter
skins, & I believe the Otter constantly keeps in salt
water — They however always came well stocked with
land furs & capital Salmon. The tide set down the whole
time and was rapid — whole trees sometimes come down
with the stream. . . . On the 15th took up the anchor
& stood up River. ... I landed abrest the ship with
Capt. Gray to view the country and take possession, leaving charge with the 2d Officer — Found much clear
ground fit for cultivation & the woods mostly clear from
underbrush.    None of the natives came near us.
" May 18 — Shifted the Ship's berth to her old station
abrest the village Chinoak commanded by a Chief named
Polacki. . . . Capt. Gray named this River Columbia's
& the North Entrance Cape Hancock and the South
Point Adams. This River in my opinion would be a fine
place to set up a Factory. . . . The River abounds with
excellent Salmon and the woods with plenty of Moose
and Deer, the skins of which was brought us in great
plenty ... in short a factory set up here and another
at Hancock's River in the Queen Charlotte Isles would
engross the whole trade of the N. W. Coast, with the
help of a few small coasting vessels.
" May 20 — This day left Columbia's River and stood
 Chronicles of
clear of the bars. . . . The men at Columbia's River
are straight lim'd, fine looking fellows & the women are
very pretty. They are all in the state of nature, except
the females, who wear a leaf apron — perhaps 't was a
fig leaf.
"May 25, 1793
11 must confess that I was agreeably supprized on
landing at Jamestown — For from the appearance it has
from the ship at anchor, you feel prepossessed against
it, but to me on shore it was quite a pleasant place, and
the sight of an English Lady made my heart feel — all
in an uproar— & alas! the poor Sandwich Isle Girls
were utterly forgot — So it is — and we cannot help it!"
The young man was not nineteen.
"July 25, 1793 —At 8 a. m. a pilot came aboard and
took charge to take the Ship to Boston. At meridien
passed the Lighthouse with a light air from Eastward.
At 6 we passed Castle William & gave a federal salute
which was returned. ... At 7 anchored off the Long
wharf in the Stream & saluted the town with 11 guns
which was returned from the wharves with three welcome
Huzzas? ... Of course we have lost one complete day.
 The Boit Family
It was Friday at Boston and Thursday with us. It is
impossible to express our feelings at again meeting with
our friends. But the loss of an affectionate and much
lov'd sister during my absence was a great obstacle to
the happiness I should otherwise have enjoyed.
"So ends remarks on Columbia's voyage."
This voyage of the Columbia was adventurous and
successful, but I have not the space to describe it more
Following his voyage in the ship Columbia he made a
second circumnavigating voyage in command of the
sloop Union.
He describes his preparation for this voyage and the
vessel itself as follows :
" In July 1794, I took charge of the Sloop Union, burthen 98
tons, she then laying at Newport, Rhode Isle; Bound for a voyage
to the N.W* Coast of America, China, Isle of France & back to
Boston. Owned by Crowell Hatch and Caleb Gardner Esq"
Employed during the months of July, and beginning of August,
giving the Sloop a complete overhaul for a Circumnavigating
Voyage, and in taking on board Stores and Provisions for three
years, likewise a Cargo consisting of Sheet Copper, Bar Iron,
Blue cloth, Blankets, Trinkets of various kinds &c, &c. All which
articles were suitable for traffic with the N.Wt Indians, for furs
proper for the Canton markett. The Sloop was completely fitted
for the Voyage, with a crew of 22 in number. Had good quarters
and mounted ten Carriage Guns and Eight Swivells on the rails.
 Chronicles of
1794    On the 28th August '94 Got under way and dropt into Coasters
Harbour, and got in readiness for Sea.
« John Boit."
I Adieu to the pretty girls of Newport."
I judge from John Boit's (2) accounts that ships in
those days bound for the Horn, made first for the Cape
de Verde Islands, off the African coast, and thence took
the " Trades " to tbe Faulkner Islands on the southeast coast of South America. It was on this cruise
that his twenty-first birthday was passed off Cape Horn.
I shall  give a few  extracts from this  remarkable
I Barrell's Sound, Charlotte Islands.
"June 19, 1794 — At six p. m. came to anchor behind
an island. . . . Sound 9 fm. water, sand & shells, in an
excellent harbour. . . . Vast many natives alongside, but
seem to have few skins. Coyar the chief did not come
off. . . . Keep a strong watch, with boarding nettings
up, as this is the identical spot where the Indians tried
to cut off Capt. Kendrick in the Brig Lady Washington.
. . . Many natives off in the morning and brought a few
skins which we purchas'd at a dear rate, — these fellows
brought us ship's chain bolts and other iron work which
made me mistrust that they had either cut off some vessel
or else some ship had been lost on the coast.
" June 20 —. . . At one p. m. a canoe came off from
the village, and informed the natives alongside, that two
of their women was drowned, by a canoe oversetting. —
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Purchased this day but few skins.— A chief by name
Hawk Eye appeared to be head man of the sound, and
Coyar the 2d. At midnight two large canoes passed
under our stern. The Indians was crying and hooping;
therefore let them pass in peace, as I supposed they
was about burying the drowned women.
" At daylight many canoes came off, and appeared to
be armed, better than common — they brought a great
many otter skins alongside, but would not sell them
without they were suffered to bring them on deck. This
was of course refused. The natives seemed anxious for
me to wood and water, and offered to assist. Their
whole conduct appeared to me mysterious, therefore kept a
good lookout after them — and prepared against surprise.
" June 21 —. . . Calm and pleasant, above forty
canoes came into the cove, full of Indians, (at least 300
men) — immediately suspected by their manouvres that
they meant to attack the Union—Called all hands to
quarters. Eight Chiefs were on board at this time who
began to be very saucy . . . and the war canoes kept
pressing alongside, and the Indians, getting upon the
nettings. Hawk Eye the head Chief began the attack
by seizing Mr. Hudson, the 2d officer, at the same time
the Indians alongside attempted to board, with most
hideous yells. However we soon paid them for their
timerity. I killed their 1st Chief Hawk Eye in the 2d
mate's arms, while they was struggling together. The
rest  of  the  Chiefs  on deck  was  knocked down  and
If a
Chronicles of
wounded and we killed from the nettings, and in the
canoes alongside about 40 more, when they retreated;
at which time I could have killed 100 more, with my
grape shot, but I let Humanity prevail — and ceased firing. At six p. m. a small canoe came off with two
Indians in her, holding green bows (Emblems of Peace).
I allowed the chiefs on board, who was strongly ironed,
to hold converse with them. At dark they left us.
Kept a strong watch. All hands to quarters through
the night.
"June 22—At daylight took up the anchors, and
came to sail, stretching toward the village on the West
part of the Sound. At 9 a. m. severall large canoes came
off, full of Indians waving green bows. They came alongside with fear and trembling, bringing plenty of furs to
ransom their Chiefs with. Ordered the irons off them, &
brought the poor devils up. Notwithstanding the treatment I 'd received, I paid full price for the skins. I
believe I got every piece of fur they had in the village.
Took notice that the village was deserted.— Suppose
they thought it our intention to destroy it. At 11 a. m.
the canoes left us, the Indians crying and praying for our
success. Indeed the treatment they received from me
was quite different from what they expected — Suppose
in the fracas we killed and wounded about 50, but the
Indians said we killed 70. None of us was hurt, but
their attack was very impolitic, for had they instead of
being so intent to board, stood off, and fired their arrows,
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no doubt they would have killed and wounded several
of us. However I was too well guarded against surprise
for them to have been victorious. — Noon. Pleasant
gales, standing clear of this disastrous Sound, bound for
Juan de Fuca Straits."
It is hard to realize this young man was only twenty-
one, in a sloop of ninety-eight tons, and with only
twenty-two men aboard.
Two or three days before reaching Boston, on his
home voyage, he says:
" July 6, 1796 — At midnight breezes from S. W. —
saw a sail standing towards us. Shortly after she fired
ten muskets and two eighteen pound shot at us, one of
which went through the foresail. They hailed me, and
ordered all our sails to be taken in. Their boat boarded
and took me on board with my papers. She proved to
be the English Frigate Reason, John Beresford, Captain, from Halifax on a cruise. Finding they could
not make a prize of the Sloop — Suffered me to pass —
after treating me in a rough ungentlemanlike manner."
I can well understand how this must have irritated him
after his long voyage and so close to home.
Strangely enough, ninety-seven years afterwards, one
of his own grandchildren — Julian Sturgis of London —
married into the Beresford family.
At the close of this voyage he says:
Chronicles of
1796 "July 8, 1796 — Having sailed round the Globe to
the Westward have lost one complete day, it being
Saturday in Boston and only Friday with us. Thank
God, I found all my relatives in health, and the tender
embrace of an affectionate and much honored Father
made up for all the troubles and anxieties incident to
such long voyages.
"During this voyage which was performed in 22^
months, (23^) the crew enjoyed good health. No doubt
the care that was taken to keep them clean and to fumigate their berths was the best preventative for the scurvy
that could possibly have been adopted.
11 believe the 1 Union " was the first sloop that ever
circumnavigated the Globe. She proved to be an excellent sea-boat and was a very safe vessel, still I think
it too great a risque for to trust to one mast in such a
long voyage—when a small brig would answer on the
N. W. coast equally as well. The cargo came out in fine
order and I received great satisfaction in the Idea that
my conduct through the voyage had been very satisfactory to the owners.
Immediately after his return in the sloop Union in
I796 August, 1796 — he was then about twenty-three — a
French prize was brought into Boston, and without discharging her cargo, he was given command to take her
to the East. After a most perilous voyage he reached
the Isle of France — or Mauritius.    This island is five
The Boit Family
or six hundred miles east of Madagascar which lies off
the southeastern coast of Africa. The scene of the
story of Paul and Virginia was laid in this Isle of
France. It was owned by the French until about 1810.
I think a synopsis of this voyage taken from John
Boit's journal may interest you, as it shows well his fearlessness and philosophy in times of peril. It is hard to
realize that he was only twenty-three when he wrote this.
I have also his log of the voyage as well as the journal.
"August 1, 1796 — This day I was appointed to
command the Snow George, owned by Messrs. Crowell
Hatch & David Green, merchants at Boston. This was
an English store ship loaded with provisions, a prize to the
French Privatere, La Eagle, and was sold in Boston to the
gentlemen above mentioned for the low price of 8000
Spanish dollars, although the cargo alone in London was
invoiced at 25,000 dollars. Was employed till the 12th
September giving the vessel as good an overhaul as circumstances would admit of, but not being allowed to land
the cargo, and she being very deep, was obliged to let her
bottom remain untouched, although 't was single and very
foul and dirty. On the 13th September, having shipped
my crew, dropped into Nantasket Roads, for to wait a
favorable dark night to get through the bay — as there
was an English Frigate cruising between the Cape Cod
Chronicles of
and Lighthouse for to intercept us. Mr. Thomas
Nickells, who was my 3d officer in the Union, and had
been with me as foremast hand in the Columbia, was
my chief officer on the present voyage."
On the nth of December he says: "Experienced
hard squalls from S. W. — carried away the main topsail yard and foretop mast — split the sails — employed
repairing damage."
" December 20 — wind from northward — Snow leaks
more than usual and sails too dull for comfort. The
grass and barnacles completely bedded on her bottom.
Five miles an hour is the most we can get."
From this time on they were leaking badly.
I Feb. 20, 1797 — the Snow requires 1,000 smart
strokes per hour to keep her free. The pumps are
excellent, thank God, being copper chambered and large
" Feb. 22 — Wind still in our teeth. Leaks still
increase. It requires all hands fore and aft at both
pumps to keep the vessel from going to Davy Jones'
Locker, she averaging at the rate of 500 bbls. per hour.
Two of our seamen taken in convulsion fits at the
pumps through fatigue. Employed preparing topsail to
fother with as a last resort."
"March 8—Wind from the N. E. Snow scarcely
moves on the surface of the waters, with fothered sails
under the bottom, although the breeze is fresh.    Keep
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every man I can well spare from the pumps on the
rigging and painting up. For if Davy Jones will not
serve me a slippery trick, I am determined on my arrival
at the Isle de France, to serve some honest Frenchman
a Yankee trick by selling them the Good Staunch Well-
found Snow George and appurtenances."
"March 19 — Hauled the sails from the bottom and
tydied ship. At 6 p. m. after a distressing and tedious
passage of 186 days we make the long wished for Islede
France, with grateful thanks to Almighty God for our
present situation, after being for forty days past in the
most critical state of suspense."
" March 20 — At 4 p. m. a pilot came aboard and
took charge of us."
" March 22 — Both pumps steady going without intermission, and we have not gained one inch to windward.
Indeed the crew are too much enfeebled to work the vessel
properly. Poor devils, they are excessive weak. However, their hearts are light. At 4 p. m. hoist ensign in a
wiff as a signal of distress. At 2 a. m. the sloop again
came alongside and brought a Lieutenant and 20 sailors
from the Admiral's Ship to my assistance. The Officer
told me he had strict orders from the Governor and
Admiral (DeLeroy) to render me every help in his power.
I immediately sent my poor sailors below to their hammocks. At six we were well into the entrance of the
harbor.    At nine came to anchor.
"I went to town accompanied by Mr. Bonjour, the
Chronicles of
linguist of the Port, and immediately waited on the
Governor and Admiral to thank them for their politeness in sending me relief. These gentlemen told me
it was their duty to relieve the distressed. I could
not help admiring the manner in which they received
my most grateful thanks. Sent off fifteen negroes to
pump ship."
" March 23 — I kept charge of the Snow George till the
20th of May, at which time I sold her for a good price to
a Mr. Hicks for the Madagascar trade. We found the
Snow leaked just as bad in the harbor as she did when
at sea. When the carpenter had finished her bottom,
we hauld to our old berth. Painted the old Snow up as
fine as a fiddle and on May 20th delivered her to Monsieur Hicks — a hard bargain on his side I must confess.
The cargo I sold to Government at an enormous advance
on the original invoices, So ends the remarks on
the Old Snow George — God send I may never sail in
the like of her again.
" Took a house on shore, attended by my faithful
servant Chou (a Chinese) — kept Bachelor's hall — and
in the gay life that is generally pursued by young men
on this island passed a few months away in quite an
agreeable though dissipated manner."
I think the frankness and humor of the young man
is amusing. The " faithful servant Chou " of whom he
speaks is no doubt the  same " Chou  Mandarien"  to
 The Boit Family
whom he raised a monument in the burying ground on
Boston Common. It is still standing and the inscription is legible.    It reads :
" Here lies interred the body
of Chou Mandarien
A native of China
Aged 19 years
whose death
was occasioned on the nth Sept.
1798 by a fall from the masthead
of the Ship Mac of Boston.
\ This stone is erected to his memory
by his affectionate master
John Boit, Jr."
For a number of years this great-grandfather of yours,
John Boit (2) commanded, among other vessels, the
good ship Mount Hope. She was built in Narragansett
Bay and named after the hill " Mount Hope," which lies
between Fall River and Bristol. She was considered a
very big ship when built, and was finally bought by the
Dutch government, and used as the Flag Ship of their
navy. Yet she was only six hundred tons. About as
much of a ship as her namesake was of a mountain !
 Chronicles of
His voyages were full of strange experiences and
"hair-breadth 'scapes," but, alas! I have not time to
tell them and must leave unrecounted a variety of absorbing scenes by land and sea.
For many years he went down to the sea in command
of many ships, but when he was about forty he gave it
up for good and all — and though he still retained his
interest in certain vessels, he became a merchant in
Boston, and lived there for the rest of his life.
He died March 8, 1829, and was buried at King's
In the old credit books of Baring Brothers & Co., in
London, stands the name of Captain John Boit, with the
record, " His word is as good as his bond."
Before turning to the accounts of his family life, I
must quote some of his verses from his log books, many of
which have the true spirit of the age and of the sea:
 The Boit Family
The same keen sense, that barbs the pang to part,
Points the wild rapture when return draws nigh.
When bosoms beat to bliss, warm heart to heart —
Hand grasping hand, and eye encountering eye.
The warm tear sliding down the burning cheek —
In sweet Elysium wrapt the speechless powers —
Or eyes suffused, that eloquently speak,
Shining like summer suns through May's soft showers.
Then — then it is that souls of purer fire
Snatch the rare raptures sacred to the few;
The clinging kiss — the chat unknown to tire —
And blessed embrace, that dullards never knew.
Oh! let me not count life by days or years,
But smiles of sweet return, through separation's tears!
Perhaps this is the best of them, and indeed it is quite
good enough for anybody.
 Chronicles of
If purest angels look with pitying eyes
On man's frail nature, and can feel our woe ;
If worth celestial left its native skies,
To bleed and suffer for our sins below—
Then dearest fair — let pity warm thy breast —
The bright example still with zeal pursue —
Smile on the youth who knows not to be blest -
Save when his heart is full of love and you.
To sing the charming Mary's praise,
My muse in humble measure tried,
When listening to my feeble lays
Apollo thus indignant cried.
I Audacious Poet — cease thy song!
Nor dare attempt on mortal lyre
Immortal charms! Such themes belong
To Phoebus and the Virgin Choir! "
 The Boit Family
Life is an Inn—where all men bait,
The waiter Time — the Landlord Fate ■
Death is the score by all men due —
I 've paid my shot — and so must you!
Friday, Dec. 27, 1805
Lay her before the wind, up with your canvass,
And let her work!    The wind begins to whistle !
Clap all the streamers on, and let her dance,
As if she were the minion of the ocean!
Let her bestride the billows till they roar,
And curl their wanton heads!
The day grows fair, and clear, and the wind courts us.
O! for a lusty sail now, to give chase to!
A stubborn bark, that would but bear up to us,
And charge a broadside bravely!!
Chronicles of
1801 July 3, 1801
A gentleman seeking apartments one day,
A bill, up for rooms " to let," fell in his way.
A comely young servant maid, answered y' door
As handsome a girl as he'd e'er seen before.
" Are you to be let with the lodgings ?" he cried;
" No, Sir, I 'm to be let alone," she replied.
Sept. 10, 1801
Our life is like a winter's day,
Some only breakfast and away,
Others to dinner stay and are full fed,
The Oldest only sups and goes to bed.
Large is his debt who lingers out the day,
Who goes the soonest, has the least to pay.
This is an adaptation of a verse written by Joseph
1678   Henshaw in 1678, but much improved upon.
 The Boit Family
Dec. 5, 1801
Come and kiss me, little charmer,
Nor suppose a kiss can harm you.
Kisses given, kisses taken
Cannot now your fears awaken.
Give me then a hundred kisses,
Number well — those sweetest blisses,
And on my life — I tell you true,
Ten-fold I '11 repay what's due,
When to snatch a kiss is bolder,
And my fair one's ten years older.
! P
Said Damon as he gently press'd
Fair Indiana to his breast,
1 Can you to me, the reason give,
That when your sex a kiss receive
They sometimes wipe the same away ?"
She quick replied without delay,
" That may be solved without much bother,
It's purposely to have Another."
j mum l
 Chronicles of
When clouds that angel face deform,
Anxious I view the growing storm —
When angry lightnings arm thine eye,
And tell the gathering tempest nigh —
I curse the sex — and bid adieu
To female friendship, love and you.
But when soft passion rules thy breast -
Thy beating heart to mine is prest,
And cloudless smiles around you play,
Giving the world a holiday —
I bless the hour when first I knew,
Dear female friendship, love and you !
Dec. 9, 1801
" I heard you much slander'd " cries Richard to Ned,
"T' other day, by an impudent Coxcomb, who said,
That you scarcely were fit to take Gutts to a Bear"
" Well what did you say ?"   " Why I said that you were! "
 The Boit Family
Dec. 9, 1801
Free from the Storms, and Gusts of human life,
Free from the squalls of passion and of strife,
Here Jack lies anchored — who has stood the sea
Of ebbing life, and swelling misery:
Tho' poorly rig'd, his prudent eye foresaw,
And took a reef at fortune's quickest flaw;
He luffed and bore away to please mankind,
But duty urg'd him still to head the wind.
A fever's tempest, soon his Masts destroy'd,
But Jury Health, awhile, he still enjoyed.
Laden with grief, and age, and shatter'd Head
At length he struck, and grounded on his bed;
While in distress, careening thus he lay,
His final Bilge exputing every day,
Heaven took his ballast from its dreary hole,
And left his body destitute of Soul.
Chronicles of
Dec. 10, 1801
He led her to the Nuptial bower,
And nestled closely to her side;
The fondest Bridegroom of that Hour,
And she
the most delighted Bride!!
Dec. 16. 1801
Ha! some one strikes me! rascle who art thou,
That cowardly insults an old man's brow,
Which oft, while young, hath borne the Laurel wreath
Good ancient Sir, be calm, my name is Death.
 The Boit Family
Hail! Wedded Love! The bard thy beauty hails !
Though  mixed  at  times  with   Cock and  Hen-like
But calms are very pleasant after gales,
And Dove-like peace much sweeter after Warrings !
Dec. 16, 1801
Hail! ev'ry pair whom love unites
In Hymen's pleasing ties;
That endless source of pure delights
That blessing of the Wise.
If Liberty can soften all our woes,
If 't is the sweetest blessing Heaven bestows,
Then Oh! Ye Gods ! pray keep me from the haunts
Of Bach'lor Uncles, and Old Maiden Aunts !
 Chronicles of
Dec. 18, 1801
Hail! spotless virgins, free from sin,
Sweet modest maidens hail!
To gain whose bosoms, lank and thin,
None e'er could yet prevail.
In flowing numbers, fain would I
Your won'drous praises sing,
And let Imagination fly,
On Fancy's soaring wing.
Your mopstick arms, from flesh quite free,
We view with sweet delight,
Your waists, as thin, as thin can be
Enchant our wondering sight.
Sneaking alone, oft times ye sit,
At once both cold and tough,
With dog in lap, or fav'rite tit,
And noses grim'd with Snuff,
With crabbed looks and sour grimace,
Ye mope like Owls or Batts
And with a most enchanting grace,
Pur, like your tabby cats.
 The Boit Family
But here, I stop, for my poor brain,
Allows the task too hard,
To celebrate your Vestal train,
Requires an abler Bard!!!
Perhaps it is my high regard for women and sympathy
for them, whether married or single, that leads me to
believe that no ancestor of mine ever indited these
When Fortune smiles and looks serene,
'Tis "Sir, how do you do?
Your family are well, I hope,
Could I serve them, or you ? "
But turn the scale, let Fortune frown,
And dire disaster greet you;
'Tis then 'T 'm sorry for your loss,
But times are hard —good bye t' ye ! "
Those then who oft your table graced,
And on your viands fed,
Will be the first to give a kick,
" He brought it on his head."
Chronicles of
Dec. 20, 1801
Thanks to my gentle, absent friend!
A Kiss you in your Letter send :
But ah! the thrilling charm is lost,
In Kisses that arrive by post.
That fruit can only tasteful be,
When gathered melting from the Tree !!
Chloe, sweet girl! in pity hear
This small request, that I may live,
Let me with your grimalkin share
The balmy kisses which you give.
And when in search of mouse or rat,
Puss range abroad, with zeal most fervent,
Rather than wait to kiss your cat —
Kiss in her stead your humble servant!
 The Boit Family 47
(on an infant)
Dec. 23, 1801 1801
Oh ! "why so soon," when the first flower appears,
Strays the brief Blossom from the vale of tears ?
Death viewed the treasure, to the desert given,
Claim'd the fair flower, and planted it in heaven.
(written near the sea shore in a storm)
Weep not, Ellen, gentle maid!
Though the wild wind swells the main,
The adverse storm may soon be laid,
And your Lover come again.
For not the bird of smallest worth,
That winnows with light wing the air,
If He permits not, falls to earth,
Who numbers ev'ry hair.
Then blow the wild wind, how it will,
From North or South, from East or West,
Weep not! but humbly trust it still
Blows for the best.
Chronicles of
1802 Jan. 2, 1802
Why, envious Time, will you now fly so fast ?
When I 'm from Ellen, you never make such haste,
When I 'm with her, the hours but minutes are;
But when from her, then ev'ry hour's a year.
You have no rule — you have no equal go,
But always are too fast, or yet too slow.
When Cupid saw his power betray'd
On Earth, and in the Realms above,
" Let Ellen be ! " he smiling said,
Ellen appeared — and all was love !
Am I to set my life upon a throw,
Because a Brute is rude and surly ? No -
A moral, sensible, and well-bred man
Will not insult me—and no other can!
 The Boit Family
Jan. 3, 1802
Women are books, in which we do espy,
Some blotted lines, and sometimes lines awry,
And tho' perhaps, some strait ones intervene,
In all of them Errata may be seen ;
If it be so, I wish that my wife were,
An Almanac, to change her ev'ry year !
"Women are books," in this I do agree;
But men there are, that can't read A, B, C,
And some who have not genius to discern,
The Beauties of the books they attempt to learn.
For those an Almanac may always hold
As much of science, as they can unfold. —
But thank our stars, our Critics are not these;
The men of sense and taste we always please.
Who know to chuse, and then to prize their Books,
Nor leave the strait lines, for to search for crooks;
And from those Books their noblest pleasures flow,
Altho' perfection 's never found below;
They know we 're in a World of error thrown,
And our Erratas place against their Own.
 50 Chronicles of
1802 Feb. 23, 1802
Say ye studious, grave, and old,
Tell me all ye fair and Gay
Tell me whence I may behold
The fleeting form of Yesterday
Where's autumnal plenty fled ?
Winter, where's his boisterous sway ?
Where's the vernal flower sped ?
Summer! where's thy Yesterday ?
Jocund sprites of social joy,
Round our smiling Goblet play,
Flee ye — power of rude annoy,
Like the ghost of Yesterday —
Odorous sweet, and generous wine
Hither boy! with speed convey ;
Jes'mine wreaths with Roses twine
Ere they fade like Yesterday —
Brim the bowl, and pass it round
Lightly tune the Sportive lay,
Let the festal hour be crowned
Ere 'tis lost — like Yesterday.
 The Boit Family
Feb. 27, 1802
As good Ezekiel, on his bed
Lay sick and full of fears,
Attended only by his maid,
Who oft in need had lent him aid,
His eyes gush'd out with tears.
The simple girl to soothe his pain
And mitigate his grief,
Thus tried in consolating strain
(Nor was she wont to try in vain)
To give his woes relief.
Ah! wherefore, Master, should you dread
Death's all subduing dart;
You who so good a life have led
And to so clear, and wise a head
Join'd purity of heart ?
Your garb was always neat and plain,
Your hair full straight and sleek;
And let it hail, or snow, or rain
No weather could your zeal restrain,
From meeting thrice a week —
Chronicles of
You never swear, as others use,
Nor speak, but to some end,
You ever paid the parson's dues,
You never trusted Turks, nor Jews,
Nor e'er deceived a friend.
You ne'er encouraged legal strife,
Nor sold your wares too high,
You ne'er were drunk, in all your life,
You ne'er debauch'd your neighbour's wife
Nor ever told a lie.
At this Ezekiel shook his head
And heaved a piteous sigh!
Then thus in grief of heart he said,
And sunk dejected on his bed —
"Ah ! Betty, I 've been sly! "
War begets poverty — poverty peace —
Peace begets riches — riches increase
Till wealth begets pride — pride is war's ground
War begets poverty — The world goes round!
 The Boit Family
To build! 'T is mighty well designed,
For that's the business of mankind;
That Nature looks for, at your hand,
And may your house forever stand!
May 't flourish for all time to come,
With growing youth and constant bloom!
To raise dull fabrics, sure was ne'er
The purpose of the young and fair —
No! that and you would ill agree —
'T is  yours to raise a family !
A nobler House! So — build you may,
But think to build the proper way!
Then shall I wish it — good effect —
And gladly be — your Architect!!
Chronicles of
Mar. 1, 1802
My Love 's a vessel trim and gay,
Rigged out with truth and stored with honor,
As thro' life's sea, she cuts her way,
All eyes with rapture gaze upon her —
Built ev'ry wondering heart to please;
The lucky shipwrights' love and fancy,
From stem to stern she moves with ease ;
And at her launch, they call'd her Nancy.
When heading up against Life's gales,
So well she stems the dang'rous trouble,
I call her Anna as she sails,
Her form's so grand — her air's so noble !
When o'er the trembling wave she flies,
What plays and sports as she advances!
" Well said, my Nan " I fondly cries,
As my full heart in concert dances.
In studding-sails, before Life's breeze,
So sweetly gentle in her motion,
She's Anne, for as she moves with ease,
She seems the Queen of all the Ocean.
The Boit Family
When laying on a tack, so neat,
The breeze her milk white bosom filling
She skims the yielding ways so fleet —
I call her Nance, my bosom thrilling!
Thus is she precious to my heart,
By whate'er name comes o'er my fancy
Graceful or gay, grand, neat, or smart,
Or Anna, Anne, Nan, Nance, or Nancy!
I have referred these verses to several students of
English literature. Neither they nor I know them nor
have been able to find them elsewhere, and it is our
impression they are original. Yet still as John Boit (2)
not infrequently quoted from others in his logs and
journals, it may be found that certain of these were not
written by him. It is not likely, however, as his quotations were usually in quotation-marks, which is not the
case with these. Many are signed by him. Many are
to his wife, Ellen.
I think all of them are interesting and there is a fine
ring to those that have to do with the sea, such as "The
Return," "Hoisting the Sails," "Epitaph, on a Sailor,"
" My Love's a Vessel Trim and Gay," while none are
without a point.
i iff
f gjjj
Chapter III
I  SHALL now speak of John Boit's (2) marriage,
wife and children.
Several of his voyages, beginning with that of the
sloop Union, when he was but twenty, started from
Newport, Rhode Island, and there he made many
In his log at the end of the sloop Hiram's voyage, he
1797 writes on the 26th of November, 1797, "In pursuit of
Miss E J.    In her smiles to be happy.    Fortune
de Ger."
You must not forget that this is the master-mariner,
the son of the man of English and French descent, who
first came to this country.    He was your great-grand-
*%  father, as I have repeatedly said.    He was born as you
1774   may remember on the 15th of October, 1774.
1799 On the 20th of August, 1799, when he was nearly
twenty-five, and about seven months after his father's
death, he was married at Trinity Church in Newport,
Rhode Island, to Eleanor Jones of that town. The
reference to the pretty girls of Newport, which I quoted,
was by no means the only one to be found in his
journals.    His father, John Boit (1), the merchant, had
1798 died in Boston on the 28th of December, 1798, and his
 —r-r~» ' v-"!'  S
The Boit Family
mother a couple of years or more before that, so that on
shore he no longer had a home of his own.
Both his father and mother had been buried at King's
Chapel in Boston, and according to the record of that
church his father was sixty-five years old when he died.
Although John Boit (2) was less than twenty-five
when he was married, he had already been a commander
of ships for nearly five years, and an officer for three
years before that, so that he must have been old for his
age, and certainly was no " chicken " in experience.
John Boit's (2) wife, Eleanor Jones, was the daughter
of Edward Jones, a British Officer of Customs in Cork,
Ireland, who came to Newport, Rhode Island, to live.
Her mother's maiden name was Henrietta Auchmuty.
The date of her father's death is unknown.
Eleanor Jones had a sister Mary, and brothers William
and John and Henry. Her brother Henry Jones (2)
married and lived in Charleston, South Carolina. The
two sisters, Eleanor and Mary, lived with their mother,
Mrs. Edward Jones, in Newport, Rhode Island.
It is through this family that ours became related to
the families of Auchmuty, Howard, and Overing, which
names have been retained by many of their descendants.
Mrs. Jones was, as I have said, an Auchmuty. Edward
Jones, the father of Eleanor Jones Boit, died December
5, 1786, and was buried at Trinity Church, Newport,
Rhode Island, December 12, 1786.
The sisters were said to have been very handsome.
i ';
Chronicles of
They were painted several times by Malbone, the miniature painter. In fact, Eleanor was the central figure of
Malbone's " Present, Past and Future " or the " Three
Graces" or "The Hours" — all three of which names
the painting has been called. This picture is owned by
the Providence Historical Society.
My father and aunts always vouched for this statement,
that this was the portrait of their mother, and they must
have known. When I was a young man, the picture was
owned by some family in Newport, whose name I have
forgotten. Ned, my brother, went to see them in
the hope of buying the portrait for my aunt, Mrs.
Russell (Boit) Sturgis. Although this family recognized
the fact that the portrait of the central figure was that
of my grandmother, Eleanor (Jones) Boit, they would not
sell it.
The likeness of the central figure in this painting to
my brother Edward's daughter, Mary Louisa, was extraordinary.
The Malbones were close friends of these two good-
looking Jones girls, and the painter's brother, apparently
a very delicate man, took several voyages with my grandfather as supercargo. They were much attached to each
other and my grandfather felt his loss very deeply when
at last he died, as I take it, of consumption.
During the first years of your great-grandfather's
married life, his wife Eleanor, or Ellen, as she was called,
lived in Newport with his children while he was at sea,
fc* '
■ #a
 The Boit Family
and afterwards moved to Jamaica Plain and thence to
When in Jamaica Plain, the family lived on Centre
Street, at the corner of Boylston Street, in a quaint and
interesting house with many gables. It was still standing when I last drove by, and is well worth visiting,
though it has been altered and does not retain its old-
fashioned simplicity. In Boston they lived on Atkinson
Street, which no longer exists, but was, I think, the
present Congress Street, or near it.
After Eleanor's marriage to John Boit (2), old Mrs.
Jones and her daughter Mary went to Charleston, South
Carolina, to live with, or near her sons, and they both died
there. One of John Boit's (2) children — Ellen — also
went to Charleston and died there, and your great-grandmother, Ellen Boit, went to Charleston for the last winter
of her life and then returned to Boston to die. Thus the
family kept in close touch with their Southern relations
for many years. Eleanor Jones Boit, or Ellen, as she
was called, died in Boston, in July, 1831.
John Boit (2) and Eleanor (Jones) Boit had a number
of children.
1. Ellen, who died single in Charleston, South
2. Caroline, who married Henry F. Baker, merchant,
of Boston.
3. Henry, who went South and died there.
4. Mary, who died single in or near Boston.
■.    15
Chronicles of
5. Harriet Auchmuty Howard, who married Charles
Inches of Boston.
6. Edward Darley, who married Jane Hubbard of
7. Julia Overing, who married Russell Sturgis of
Boston and London.
The families of John Boit (1) and John Boit (2) held
a good social position in Boston where many of them, in
fact most of them, were born and buried.
Next in order come the children of John Boit (2), and
I shall try to give you a more or less correct impression
of these rather unique people. They were my aunts and
my father. I knew all this generation personally, except
Ellen and Mary, who died early in life, and an older
brother of my father, named Henry, who disappeared
when he was young and died in some unknown part of
the South. It was said that he married there but left
no male children.
I never knew any of my grandparents, three of whom
died many years before I was born, and the fourth, my
Grandmother Hubbard, when I was less than a year old.
In speaking of this generation of Boits which immediately precedes my own, I might state that they were all
emphatically proud of the " Boit blood." Exactly why
they prided themselves upon it to the extent they did,
was never fully explained to me.    It was not a question
 The Boit Family
open to argument or discussion. It was either a fact or
a state of mind fundamentally imbedded within them.
They were an imperious, handsome race, confident of
themselves, and with unquestioned faith in a well-
selected ancestry. If I had been interested in such
matters in my youth, I might perhaps have discovered
the cause for their pride and self-satisfaction. But such,
alas! was not the case. However, their distinguished
looks, their wit, their brilliant, well-educated minds, their
manners and their breeding did, indeed, sufficiently mark
them as people of birth. No doubt this pride, perhaps
in a more modified form, has been inherited by many of
their descendants, for I find that even I, myself, in all
modesty, am entirely satisfied with my family and forbears, and am ready to praise God, that with all our failings, we are not altogether like other men!
i. My oldest Boit aunt was Ellen, named after her
mother. She never married, and went to Charleston,
South Carolina, where she died while staying with her
uncle, Henry Jones.
2. Caroline Boit was born in Newport, Rhode Island,
May 5, 1804.    She was brought up in Boston and mar-    ^04
ried Henry F. Baker, in November, 1822.    I have been    x^22
told that none stood higher, as a man and a merchant in
Boston than Mr. Baker, whom I never saw.   He graduated
from Harvard in the Class of 1815, and was twice made    1815
Chronicles of
Colonel of the First Independent Corps of Cadets, and
served in that position for nearly six years, from April 24,
1826 to December 6,1831. Their daughter, Ellen Baker,
left the Cadets some valuable records, inherited from her
father, of its doings in the early part of the nineteenth
century. He passed the last part of his life, with his
family in the West, where he was unsuccessful in business. He died in 1857 and left my aunt a small property upon which, for the rest of her life, she was enabled
to live only by exercising the strictest economy. She
was an exceedingly proud woman, and I think her
"angustas res" embittered her as she grew old.
After her husband's death she came to live in a small
house in Jamaica Plain, bringing her daughter Ellen with
her. It was only at this time, for a few years before her
death, which took place within a year or two before I went
to college, that I knew her. We were then living in Glen
Road, Jamaica Plain, and she and her daughter were
often at our house. I was from twelve to eighteen years
old at this time and, being constantly at home, I was frequently called upon to escort her between our houses.
I remember well these walks with this slight, erect,
imperious old lady clinging to my arm. In fact she first
taught me how, in proper fashion, to give my arm to a
lady, explaining just how tight she thought I should
clasp it. If I remember right her rule was " tight without squeezing."    I have endeavored to follow it.
This aunt of mine made a strong impression upon me.
 The Boit Family
She was above the medium height, and with a temper
fully equal to her stature. As a young chap I stood in
very considerable awe of her, for she had a way of piercing
me with her eagle eye, that was extremely embarrassing.
I think she suspected me of suspecting her of wearing a
wig. I am quite sure she did wear one, for I examined
it at odd moments with the most intimate scrutiny.
It was said in the family that when her daughter Ellen
grew up, she was jealous of her youth and especially of
her splendid hair, and that she treated her with the
greatest severity. However this may have been her
daughter never harbored it against her, but, on the
contrary, always spoke of her mother in terms of honest
admiration and affection. I think she died in 1861 or
1862, or at the beginning of our Civil War, but I do not
happen to have the record of her death.
Her daughter Ellen lived to a good old age, and was
devoted to her church, and to every member and descendant of the Boit family. Though we were all fond
of her, it always seemed to me her cousin, Dr. Charles
E. Inches, was her most constant, thoughtful and attentive friend. He certainly did everything in his power to
make the life of this rather lonely old lady happy and
Aunt Caroline (Boit) Baker also had a son Darley. I
never saw him but once, and that when I was young, for
his life was passed chiefly in the West and South. I
remember him as a tall, handsome young man of fine
Ml m.
if 1?
Chronicles of
proportions. He came to see us when we were living in
Eliot Street, Jamaica Plain. Only my little sister Jeanie
and I were at home, and we giggled at his rather sentimental regrets, that although we were his first cousins,
we did not even know him by sight. I may have been
twelve and she eight at the time.* He married in the
West, and died, if I remember correctly, in New Orleans,
leaving no descendants. He graduated from Harvard in
1848   the class of 1848.
3. Henry Boit, left home in his early youth and never
came back again, nor kept in touch with his family in
Boston. He was older than my father and even he did
not remember him well. He settled somewhere in the
South, probably Florida, and married there, but left no
male descendants.
4. Then came a daughter Mary Boit, who died young
and unmarried, though she lived till after her father's
1829   death in 1829.    I never saw her.
5. Harriet Auchmuty Howard Boit was born in Boston,
!8i2   on the 31st of August, 1812, at the time of our second
war  with   England.    She   married   Charles   Inches,   a
member of a prominent  Boston  family.    His brother,
Henderson Inches, was Colonel of the First Independent
1837    Corps  of Cadets for a  short  seven  months  in   1837.
Aunt   Harriet  was   a   notably   handsome   woman,
rather above the medium height, and of  commanding
 The Boit Family
presence. I remember her well, her exquisite, clean-
cut features, her beautiful nose, her white teeth, and her
quick temper. She certainly had what was called the
high temper of the Boits, and in moments of anger a
severe tongue. But, on the other hand, her tempers
were soon over, and no woman could make herself more
perfectly charming and delightful than she. Though a
high-strung woman, she was no more so than many of
her family, and with it went a great heart and a most
generous and hospitable nature.
I was always much attached to her for her many kindnesses to me when I was a boy. I remember once, as a
boy, while staying with her at Nahant, I put a long succession of lumps of sugar into my tea, and was reminded
by her of the high price of sugar. For a moment I was
quite overcome by her very proper rebuke. But my
greed did not prevent her asking me to stay many, many
times afterward.    It was a good lesson.
Her wit was keen, and nobody ever enjoyed a good joke
more than she, whether it happened to be her own or someone else's.   I can hear her ringing laugh at this moment!
Like all the Boits of her generation she was a highbred, aristocratic-looking woman.
During my childhood and early youth our family
always dined with Aunt Harriet and Uncle Charles Inches
on Thanksgiving Day or they with us. And as I
remember these occasions they were very festive, and
brilliant  affairs,  and   never  a  disappointment   to  my
 Chronicles of
youthful appetite. As I recall the menu, it did not vary
much year after year from this: First, oyster soup;
second, boiled turkey with oyster sauce; third, roast
turkey with sausages (the peculiarity of these dinners
was especially this succession of turkeys); fourth, ducks
or geese; fifth, puddings and pies and ices and nuts
and raisins and such-like. Of course I do not remember
the vegetables, but as I grew older the steady flow of
champagne made its proper impression upon me. These
were usually dinners of from twelve to sixteen.
On one memorable occasion the cook deserted on the
morning of Thanksgiving Day, and Aunt Harriet cooked
the entire dinner herself, sitting at table in her low-necked
evening dress, as the courses were served, and working in
the kitchen between times. The dinner was proclaimed
to be a marvellously good one, and I can see Aunt
Harriet's eyes sparkle with the recognition of her feat and
its success. It seems to me no less wonderful today, as
I look back upon it, than it did then.
At this time both our families were living in Jamaica
Plain, we in Eliot Street and Aunt Harriet and Uncle
Charles Inches in Centre Street, near Boylston Street.
Why I should recall the fact I do not know, for it is
unimportant, but I do remember that although their's
was otherwise a long frame house, the entire northerly
side of it was brick—no doubt for warmth in winter.
I 'm under the impression this was not unusual in
the building of  old Colonial houses in New England.
 -■ —Uif^l*,
The Boit Family
Aunt Harriet Boit married, as I have said, Charles
Inches, brother of Herman, Henderson, and Martin
Inches, and a cousin of Martin Brimmer, among the
most prominent people, socially, of their day in Boston.
Their children were:
(a) Susan, who married Robert S. Sturgis, brother of
Russell Sturgis of Baring Brothers, and from whom are
descended, Robert Sturgis, who married Marion Sharpless
of New York; Charles Sturgis, who lives in Chicago;
Roger Sturgis of Boston; and Mrs. Ingersoll, Mrs. Scott
and Mrs. Stewart, all brought up in Philadelphia. Mrs.
Robert Sturgis was my first cousin and all these, their
children, are your second cousins.
Robert S. Sturgis and his wife were both handsome.
He was one of the best friends I had in my youth and
his house at Newport always open to me. He used to
say, " Bob, come to stay whenever you like, don't bother
to write. If we have no room, we can always put a
mattress on the billiard table." Their house was
always a most hospitable one and full of guests. It
was on Bellevue Avenue, and afterwards bought by
Levi P. Morton. What jolly times and good dances I
have had there!
(b) Charles Inches, married Miss Pomeroy and is the
father of Charles and Henderson and Louise, who are
your second cousins.
(c) Harriet, who died many years ago, single. She
was a wonderfully handsome woman.
Iv 1
si aH
1 '
.  .-•.»
r-r T^T
"    " irTr
Sixth Child of John Boit (2)
Chapter IV
kDWARD DARLEY BOIT (3), born in  1813,
died   in   1890,   who   married   Jane  Parkinson
Hubbard, daughter of John Hubbard of Boston,
was my father and your grandfather.
He was born in Boston, August 31, 1813, and spent
some of the early years of his life, as I have said, in
Jamaica Plain. He has told me that as a little boy
he learned to navigate Jamaica Pond on a big log, with
a soap box atop of it, and with a long pole to drive it.
It was his canoe and he an Indian in search of adventures
that never failed him. Woods were all about the pond in
those days, with only one open place on each side of it in
Brookline and Jamaica Plain, where the road for a rod or
two ran down into the water, giving horses a chance to
drink. He was always as careful as possible to avoid
these openings for fear of being seen, but one day as
he was poling by the spot where the road touched
the pond in Jamaica Plain, the family doctor drove down
to water his horse and recognized him on his log. When
he reached home that night he got a sound drubbing
The Boit Family
from his father, who put a stop forever to this absorbing
though somewhat dangerous sport.
When he grew older, he was sent to " Green's Boarding School," at the corner of Main Street and Pond
Street, Jamaica Plain. This was one of the favorite
schools for gentlemen's sons in the vicinity of Boston at
that period. The house was a very handsome, old
Colonial, square structure, large and spacious and painted
white. I remember it well. In fact it was torn down
less than twenty years ago. It had a grove of fine old
trees about it, which added to its dignity.
I do not know to what family it originally belonged
before it became a school, but the fine old hall, the staircases and mantel-pieces proved that it must have been
an important mansion in its day.
My father used to tell amusing stories of old Green
and his school. One day the boys were standing in
line, with one of their number a short distance off plugging a ball at them. If the thrower hit a boy, that boy
had his next turn with the ball. My father had the
ball, and just then old Green came out and said he'd join
them and take his chances with the rest. So he took
his place in the line and my father plugged him in the
stomach. "Boit," he shouted, white with rage, "go to
bed at once!" and off my father went and was given
nothing but bread and water till the next morning.
Chronicles of
• ■
Sometimes Schoolmaster Green would come into the
dining-room just before dinner, rubbing his hands and
saying, " Now boys, the fellows that eat the most pudding
shall have the most meat." They always began with
pudding — a clever ruse for purposes of economy, but a
short-lived one, for the boys soon got on to it. At a later
date my father went to the Boston Latin School, where
his own father had gone before him.
It II li
•   ■
He entered Harvard College in 1830 when he was
eighteen years old. He was rather a gay young man
and a great favorite, and was elected Colonel of the
College Regiment by the students. This was always
considered a mark of special favor and popularity. But
the President or Faculty called him up at once, and told
him that he must not accept the position, as he did not
stand high enough in his studies, and was a little too gay.
He belonged to most of the college societies, such
as the Institute, of which he was president, the Pudding,
the Porcellian, and the Medfax. I see by the Pudding
catalogue he is not mentioned as belonging to that club,
but I think it is a mistake, as he often told me of their
doings.    It is my impression he was one of its poets.
The last year he was in college there was a rebellion,
1834   and the majority of the class of 1834, at a class meeting
voted not to take their degrees on graduation.   Of course,
most of the parents made  their sons forget this silly
 The Boit Family
promise, but he, having no parents kept his word at the
time, and did not take his degree until six years afterwards, when in 1840, he graduated from the Law School
and took all three of his degrees together: A. B., A. M.,
and LL. D.    He "roomed" in Massachusetts.
My father had the reputation of being a handsome man
and he was certainly a wit and the quickest man in
repartee that I ever happened to fall in with. As I knew
him, the great beauty of his wit was that it was never
biting — it never hurt — the man that was laughed at
was always ready to join in the laugh himself. Yet I
have heard him say he was afraid it had not always been
so in his youth.
I remember Augustus Lowell, father of the present
president of Harvard, told me, that when a young man
he always thought my father and mother the handsomest couple in Boston. I have heard many others
speak in the same way. My mother was said to have been
a lovely girl, and my father told me that when they first
moved out of town someone, whose name I 've forgotten,
said, "You have no business to take your wife out of
town. No ball in Boston can be complete without Jane's
neck and arms." They certainly were very perfect as
I remember them.
He grew up with the pleasantest set of Boston men of
his day and in early life was a favorite among them —
the Inches, Robesons, Joys, Sturgises, Welds, Minots,
Amorys, Lowells, Jacksons, Putnams, Lawrences, Motleys,
 ?•• '
72 Chronicles of
Hubbards, Frothinghams, Tuckers, Perkinses, Lees,
Apthorps, Greenoughs, Curtises, Lorings, Grants, etc.
His best man, when he was married, was Mr. John
Joy, the grandfather of my Alice's friend, Ben Joy, who
was an usher at her own wedding.
Immediately after leaving college, he did a lot of surveying of the flats of Boston Harbor with gangs under
him. Then he took a trip to India as supercargo. When
he returned from the East he studied law and was admitted to the Massachusetts Bar and bacame the partner
of Benjamin R. (later Judge) Curtis and Charles P.
Curtis (under the firm name of Charles P. Curtis,
Benjamin R. Curtis and Edward D. Boit), and later young
Charles P. Curtis joined the firm, who was the father of
the present Charles P. Curtis, who married, I think, a
Miss Anderson. Edward Darley Boit (3) married my
mother, Jane Parkinson Hubbard, on the 13th of June
1839    1839, an(l they lived chiefly with Mrs. John Hubbard's
18^6   family until I was born in 1846.
8* From 1846 to 1853, our family lived at "Ingleside"
a place my father had built on Forest Hills Street, near
Forest Hills Cemetery, at the junction of Forest Hills and
Scarborough Street, now Morton Street. This place is
embodied in Franklin Park and through it is the entrance
from Forest Hills station. The beautiful trees on these
grounds were planted by your grandfather.
The Boit Family
At this time for a year or two he was a member of
the Massachusetts Legislature, and I have heard it said
that he served with some distinction. He was an admirable speaker and had a resonant, deep bass voice. Still
he was too independent and outspoken to make a successful politician. At this time too, he became superintendent of the Unitarian Sunday School in Jamaica Plain,
but he soon gave it up, because he said he could hear
the sound of his own voice growing unctuous and that was
on the road to hypocrisy !
In 1854 he went out to Chicago and wrote up the
first conveyancing books of that city, thinking he might
settle there, but he could not stand its lack of civilization and so sold the result of his work for $3,000 and
returned to Boston.
Our family were living then in West Cedar Street.
I was eight years old. I remember that the furniture had been boxed and made ready for moving, when
my father returned and we went out to Eliot Street,
Jamaica Plain, to live, instead of to Chicago — a wise
thing for all of us.
After this he gave up the law. I think now it was his
first great mistake, for he had many admirable qualifications for his profession, and might have distinguished
himself. He became a mill treasurer and continued to
be the treasurer of various cotton mills and print works
until after the Civil War, when he believed there was
money to be made in the South, and went to Savannah,
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' '\:: 1'
Georgia, and there entered into business with a Southern
man by the name of McKenzie, originally from Scotland.
1868 This was in the autumn of 1868, just after my graduation, and he took my mother and me with him. This
1875 venture proved most unfortunate and in 1875 the firm
On January 15, 1874, I was married and taken into
the firm as a junior partner on a salary, and I remained
in Savannah for a year or so after the failure, to settle up
the affairs of the firm. We owed no important debts in
the South, only two or three small ones for rent and suchlike.    These I afterwards paid out of my own pocket.
Our heaviest debts were to Baring Brothers & Co. in
London, whom to a certain extent we represented in
Savannah. In 1874, just after a panic, and when cotton had fallen to its lowest point since the Civil War,
and was said to be below the cost of production, Baring
Brothers authorized us to ship them all the cotton we
wished, and to draw upon them for the full invoice cost
— a most friendly act on their part.
The head of the Barings, Russell Sturgis, was my
father's brother-in-law and he thought this a great opportunity to make a fortune for my father. It was a
temptation few men could have withstood. My father
felt the greatest confidence in the judgment of Baring
Brothers (who would not have in those days ?) and
shipped many thousand of bales of cotton to them. But
cotton continued to go down and down.    In fact it was
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never so high again until a few years ago. The result
was my father was ruined and the Barings lost a great
deal of money. Their agents in New York, Duncan
Sherman & Co., suffered the same fate in the same way
at the same time. My father and mother gave up everything they possessed.
Your grandfather and grandmother passed the last
sixteen years of their lives in Newport, Rhode Island.
They died in 1890. During this time they were supported comfortably by your Uncle Edward Darley Boit
and his wife, your Aunt Isa, and by certain legacies left
them by Mr. and Mrs. Russell Sturgis of London.
Besides being a wit, your grandfather was a great
reader and full of literary tastes. When engaged to
your grandmother, he hid the following verses in some
flowers he sent her when she was going to a ball one
night in Boston in the winter of 1836—1837. Your
grandmother showed them to me and let me copy them
a few years before her death. They were written in a
diminutive hand on a visiting card.
76 Chronicles of
Not when the young and happy throng
To pleasure's proud and princely piles;
Not when glad music floats along,
And every lip is wreathed with smiles.
Not when bright eyes — their loveliest flame
Shed forth-—like stars that gild the sea;
Not mid gay voices; do I claim
A thought from thee !
Not when thy brow is decked with flowers,
And with earth's revellers thou art;
Not when mirth speeds the "rosy hours,"
And reigns triumphant in thy heart!
Not when amid the common herd
Thy purer self obscured may be,
Seek I to gain a passing word —
A thought from thee!
But I do ask when twilight's throwing
Its first faint shade on earth and sky;
When (the warm sunset's blush still glowing)
The young mild moon peeps forth on high,
And when the evening breeze comes stealing
Sweet perfume from the flowery lea —
In those calm hours of gentle feeling
A thought from thee!
 The Boit Family
And, oh! at times when none are near,
When pensive mem'ries of the past —
Dim dreams of future joys appear —
Around thee clustering thick and fast,
When all is quiet — hushed within—
Thy soul from earth's allurements free;
In those dear hours I fain would win
A thought from thee !
Many illustrious poets have written worse lines than
Years afterwards Edward Everett published a poem
written in a somewhat similar strain though not so good.
When the city of Chicago was burned, I am told that
my father's conveyancing books were saved, and that
they are still in constant use, and the basis of much of
the conveyancing in the old part of the city. Conveyancing books are the records of the titles to real estate.
I have always considered it the great misfortune of
your grandfather's life, that his trend of mind led him
into opposition at the time of our Civil War, which,
under the guidance of the inspired and immortal Lincoln,
resulted, as you know, in the abolition of slavery in
In the first place, your grandfather was a pronounced
conservative, and by nature and habits of mind opposed
to changes of all kinds; then again, as a lawyer, he
Chronicles of
believed that under the Constitution, the States had
the right to withdraw from the Union. In this he was
upheld by some of the best Constitutional lawyers in
this country. In the third place, he had been intimate
with many Southern young men at Harvard, and had a
strong attachment for them and their ways. They were
a rich, gay, aristocratic lot, and played an important part
in the social life of Harvard College at that period.
Fate, or these influences, put him out of sympathy
with the war and the enforced abolition of slavery. Not
that he would have had the South victorious, but he
could not assist or sympathize with the North. It was,
as I have said, most unfortunate. It cost him hosts of
friends and changed the whole current of his life.
At the time of the war, and before it, I was too young
to have formed my own views on these subjects, and my
admiration and affection for my father led me to believe
that whatever he said, and thought must be right. After
the war he rarely, if ever, spoke of these subjects, much
less discussed them, but he must have recognized the
fact that his war views had seriously affected his position
among a large class of his old friends in Boston.
He was a proud man, and never in words withdrew
from his position, nor acknowledged a change of mind,
but I think his silence, thereafter, regarding the war,
what had led to it, and its results, indicated how keenly
alive his sensitive nature was to the change that had
taken place in his personal relations, and that he may
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have realized too late, that he had made a serious
mistake in judgment.
Though, no doubt, all this led to his going South in
1868, I do not think his sojourn there increased his
affection or sympathy for that section of the country.
In fact, I am sure, that over and beyond his misfortunes
in business, the gentlemen of the South, whom he met,
did not prove wholly congenial to him. In imagination,
he had pictured them as companions of his youth, but in
reality, they were much changed by age and the sorrows
and terrible experiences of the long war through which
they had so lately passed. So I am inclined to think
this Southern episode helped to change the tenor of
his beliefs, as it did the tenor of his life. Through all
these most trying times, my dear mother was his constant and devoted companion.
After this, he never sought other men and lived much
by himself. He was a great reader, as I have said, and
always fond of taking long walks, and so was never
without occupation. But from that time on he saw
practically only those who came to him, yet was he
such a charming man, and so full of wit, and stories, and
information, that many, especially younger men, did still
seek his companionship.
In the late fifties of the last century, when I was a
boy of eleven or twelve, Charles R. Codman bought a
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house in Cotuit, Massachusetts, and he and his family
passed their summers there. His wife was Lucy Sturgis,
my first cousin. Her own mother died when she was a
young girl, and my mother had been a mother to her.
In fact, I think her " Aunt Jeanie " was with Lucy at
the birth of every one of her many children.
Cousin Charles and Lucy were most kind and useful
cousins. For many years of my youth they asked me to
stay with them for ten days or a fortnight every summer
at Cotuit, and I loved it there. Other members of our
family often stayed with Charles and Lucy at Cotuit,
and grew very fond of the place and its people. My
father and mother liked it so well that they went back
to it for many of the last summers of their lives. There
they were surrounded by a number of families of younger
people who were devoted to them. When they lived at
Cotuit they rented their Newport house.
Your grandfather was a great swimmer and used to
spend an hour or more in Cotuit waters every pleasant
day. He never touched the bottom from the time he
went into the water until he came out, and this was a
habit of his, even to the age of seventy-seven, the year
before he died.
The house which they hired at Cotuit, belonged to
Mr. Jefferson Coolidge, Minister to France. On one
side of them lived John Templeman Coolidge and his
wife, (Miss Parker, a sister of Mrs. George G. Lowell).
Across the road, lived Doctor Algernon Sydney Coolidge,
 The Boit Family
brother of Jefferson Coolidge, and his family.
Mrs. Coolidge was the sister of George G. Lowell and
Edward Jackson Lowell, who was my most intimate
friend from boyhood.
Doctor Coolidge and his family were delightful people,
as were also the family of George G. Lowell, who
lived nearby. George G. Lowell was the father of
Judge Francis C. Lowell and of Mrs. A. Lawrence Lowell,
wife of the President of Harvard University.
Nearby also lived my intimate friend, Edward J.
Lowell, and not far off were the families of Augustus
Perkins and other pleasant people. In fact, your grandfather and grandmother were thus surrounded by congenial families of a younger generation, who, as I said,
were devoted to them.
It was certainly a very delightful and friendly community. Not a day passed that some of these good
people did not drop in to sit awhile on my father's piazza,
and Doctor Coolidge, that most delightful of men, could
always be depended upon by the old people for a game
of bezique at night.
Doctor Coolidge, in his younger days, was a great
expert with broad-sword, single-stick, double-stick and
foils. There was hardly a better professional in this
country, especially in fencing. He had been taught
abroad by the most distinguished masters, and had
secured various foreign diplomas. I had become
acquainted    with    him    through    his    brother-in-law,
 Hi w
Chronicles of
Edward Lowell, and he taught me fencing for two years
before I went to college. Oh! the ease of digressing
when I have so much to say!
It was at Cotuit that I learned as a boy, to sail a boat.
I loved it and kept at it all my life, when circumstances
permitted, as you know. Your grandfather and grandmother used to drive every pleasant afternoon at Cotuit
through the sandy wood roads of the Cape. He was
very easy on his horse and used to say, " I could n't enjoy
myself unless I was sure my horse and I were having an
equally good time together."
My father was a man of great personal dignity. He
carried himself well, and was exceedingly particular about
his dress. In the latter years of his life I have heard
him say, " No gentleman can bathe and shave and dress
properly in less than two hours," and I think he did himself spend that time in his dressing-room of a morning.
He had a handsome foot and late in life always wore low-
cut patent leather shoes and white stockings. He was a
man of the very highest ideals of personal honor. I have
known him to save his friends from financial loss at
great personal sacrifice.
At one time, Mr. Robert Sturgis of Philadelphia, and
Mr. William R. Robeson of Boston, his intimate friends,
put $25,000 or $30,000 each into some cotton mills of
which my father was treasurer, and in which he himself
had a $30,000 interest. They made the investment with
his advice, and for a number of years the mills were very
 The Boit Family
successful. At last, however, a man, who owned the
controlling interest, interfered to such an extent that
my father felt the investment to be in great danger.
He persuaded this man, however, to buy out Mr. Sturgis
and Mr. Robeson for the amount they had paid for
their interest, with the agreement on his part to turn
over for nothing his own interest in the mills, some
$30,000, as I said. Thus he saved his friends from a
heavy loss. At the same time he resigned his position
as treasurer. Within a very short time the owner of
the mills went crazy, and within a few years more, the
mills had failed.
When I was a Freshman in college, I was suspended
for throwing snow-balls at a professor's window. It was
a case of skylarking and without premeditated evil intent.
I was hauled up before the august Faculty the same night
and the next morning I entered my father's office, No.
13 Doane Street, Boston, feeling the veriest of culprits,
frightened and ashamed. He looked up from his desk
and said, " Hullo, Bob! What are you doing in town
today?" I answered, "Pater, I have bad news; I've
been suspended from college." "Good enough," he
said ; " we've missed you awfully, and shall be delighted
to have you at home again." Not one question, not
one word of rebuke — perfect confidence and perfect affection ! Of course the tears streamed right down my
cheeks, and from that moment, for life, he had made me
his devoted slave.
Chronicles of
He was a man of unbounded generosity and hospir
tality, of elastic and bouyant spirits. He never wished
to talk of death. When my mother touched on unnecessarily gloomy subjects, he would often say "Jean, spare
us the hearse with its plumes!"
How well I remember how cheerfully he entered the
pleasant breakfast room at Newport on his seventieth
birthday, saying, " Well, Jean, dear, hereafter I'm a tenant
at will!"
Your Grandfather and Grandmother Boit both dial in
1890 the year 1890. That winter your grandfather had a
slight shock after playing billiards one morning in the
Newport Reading Room, of which he was a member.
I think he was playing with old Tom Hunter, who was
an amusing character. In fact, Tom Hunter and his
wife were both amusing. She was the Mrs. Malaprop
of Newport. She said to me one day, "When Mollie
(or Bessie) had the scarlet fever, every one in Newport
tatooed me," meaning "tabooed." There were many
stories of her sayings. Her husband, Tom, on their
wedding journey, could never remember to put her down
in the hotel registers, resulting in many inquiries into
his apparently questionable proceedings.
Your grandfather gradually recovered from his first
shock, to the extent of walking and getting about with
some difficulty. His illness was a great anxiety to
your grandmother, and in the spring, in Newport, at
their pleasant   old   house   " Longacre,"   opposite   the
 The Boit Family
Episcopal Church, where Dr. Mercer preached, she died.
I think in character she was one of the loveliest, most
self-sacrificing women I have ever known. All her
family and friends were devoted to her, and in those
days when a woman in childbirth wanted the nearest and dearest of her women-folk at hand, your dear
grandmother was in constant demand, called upon
by her nieces and children alike. There never was a
calmer, more efficient woman with a tenderer face in a
sick-room. Old Doctor Samuel Cabot used to say that
she was a born nurse.    And then her lovely hands!
She was one of the neatest and cleanest and most particular of women, and was always careful of her dress,
especially of her caps, which were exquisite and worn from
the time she was forty-five or fifty. Yet she was never
extravagant and was heard to say, "What difference
does it make how I dress — every one in Boston knows
me." I also remember her once remarking with equal simplicity when we were living in Savannah, " What difference does it make what I wear — nobody here knows
me." As I say, this was with simplicity, not as a pose,
for she was verily one of the simplest of women.
I remember one day a friend remarked on her lack of
interest in someone, and she answered, 11 know it may
seem queer, but really, Eliza, I never can take much interest in people my mother did not know." Such a true note
of the Bostonians of a century or less ago!
I was with  your grandmother  throughout  her last
 11. i
Chronicles of
illness and at the time of her death. I thought your
grandfather would die under the stress of those dreadful
days and nights, but he did not, and lived through the
following summer at Cotuit, with most of his children
1890 about him, and died there in the autumn of 1890.
1889 In the spring of 1889, in Newport, a year before my
mother died, they had celebrated their golden wedding,
and many of their old friends and relations came down
from Boston for the occasion.
When my mother died, her other children were away;
Ned in Europe, Jeanie Hunnewell in Europe, and John
rushing home from the West. He arrived just too late
to see her again alive — in the afternoon of the day on
which she died.
Later Ned and Jeanie came home from Europe leaving
their families abroad, so that we all of us were with your
grandfather during the summer at Cotuit. I took a house
there for my family, and Ned passed the summer with
me. John and Jeanie were, if I remember right, at
your grandfather's.
It was during that summer that Ned painted a picture
of the corner of the piazza where your grandfather
always sat, with a view under the trees of Cotuit Harbor.
Your mother is sitting with him. It hangs in my room
over the mantel-piece. That same summer he painted
the beautiful picture of Cotuit Harbor which is empanelled in your Aunt Jeanie Hunnewell's dining-room
in Wellesley.
 The Boit Family
I think this letter from your grandfather to your
grandmother on the forty-sixth anniversary of their wedding-day must be of interest. It was their custom to
destroy all their letters, but this was found after your
grandmother's death, among the few that she had kept.
"Longacre, June 13, 1885.
" Dearest Jeanie:
"WTiether it is the influence of this anniversary of
the day when I drew the great prize of a man's life, a
lovely, good and sensible wife, or whether this beautiful
day adds its influence to the happy memory of our wedding day, I cannot say — but I feel in better spirits at
this moment than I have since Ned left us.
11 must acknowledge first, however, the deep obligation I am under to you — for your love and devotion, for
your charming companionship, and good and disinterested
counsel, and your untiring energy and self-sacrifice in
doing your duty and aiding in making me do mine
through all these long and happy days of married life.
Always happy days as far as you were concerned, and if
any have been less so than the rest, the difference has
been caused, once in a great while, by trials common to
all, in the loss of our dear children (Lizzie, Joe and our
little Julia). But oftener too, too often, I fear, by my
own obstinacy, hastiness of temper, and disregard (though
only momentary) of the rights and feelings of the best
wife that man was ever blest with !
J -C-,
Chronicles of
I My love for you is as great today as it was forty-six
years ago, and if I am to live on, I pray that you may
always be spared to be the friend and comforter of my
old age.    I beg your pardon for ever having wounded
your feelings and will sincerely endeavor, in the future,
to avoid doing so, and, if carried away by the vivacity of
my disposition, I shall appear to be forgetful of  this
promise, I know, if you think that upon the whole, I am
trying to keep it, you will forgive me, and be able to
believe that though my tongue may sound rebellious, my
heat t is loyal and forever and forever only yours! . . .
and every other blessing to my heart's best beloved.    I
am as ever affectionately yours.
His verses to her at the beginning of life and this letter
near the end of it are the messages of a lifetime to all
of us, and have their meaning.    A gallant gentleman
has gone to his rest!
Seventh Child of John Boit (2)
Chapter V
JULIA OVERING BOIT, your grandfather's youngest sister, married Russell Sturgis of Boston, of
Russell & Co. of Canton, of Russell Sturgis & Co.
of Manilla, and finally of Baring Brothers & Co. of London, where he rose to be head of the firm when their's
was, next to the Rothschilds, perhaps, the best known
firm of private bankers in the world.
Like so many of that generation of the Boits, your
Great-aunt Julia was a very handsome and distinguished
looking woman — I think the handsomest of this family
of handsome women. She was tall and dignified with
clear-cut features and a low brow. I mean her hair grew
very low on her forehead, as did your Aunt Lizzie's —
Billy Patten's mother.
She was a woman of commanding presence and she
and her husband together, for Russell Sturgis was a
notably handsome man, made a couple of unusual beauty.
It is not strange that some of their children, too, should
have been handsome, though it is a word that comes in
so often in these family records, I am getting a little tired
of it.    I fear you young people who never saw these men
Chronicles of
and women of an earlier generation may think I exaggerate or draw on my imagination. I believe I have confined
myself quite within the limits of truth.
Mr. and Mrs. Sturgis entertained a great deal in their
various country-houses in England, " Coombwood," " Mt.
Felix," and "The Farm" at Leatherhead, as well as in
their London houses in Upper Portman Place and
Carlton House Terrace, and at one time it was said they
had the best chef in London. I think I remember his
salary, but hesitate to give it, for fear of exciting the
envy of some of our mill treasurers.
Mr. and Mrs. Sturgis were famous for their hospitality,
and there were few prominent Americans journeying
abroad, who were not entertained by them. Nor were
their entertainments confined to Americans, for many of
the most distinguished people in London were to be met
at their house.
William Story, the sculptor, made a large reclining
statue of my aunt as Cleopatra, which is now in the
Metropolitan Museum in New York.
Your aunt, Elizabeth Greene Boit, (William S. Patten's
mother) passed the winter of 18 61 with her aunt,
Mrs. Sturgis, in London, and was presented at Court, which
in those days was a mark of distinction. She also stopped
for some time in the London season with the Honorable
Charles Francis Adams' family, when he was United
States Minister to Great Britain, at the time of the Civil
War  in  America  and went  into society  under their
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auspices. She met many noted people, and as she was
full of humor, had some amusing stories to tell us of her
In those days no Americans held a better or
more respected social position in London than
Mr. and Mrs. Russell Sturgis, and it might well be said
in the language of the Victorian era that no couple in
dignity, and beauty, and intelligence, and charm, were
better fitted to adorn society.
Aunt Julia Sturgis was the youngest of your Boit
great-aunts, and like all the Boits of that generation, had
her full share of temper and imperiousness. I think she
held herself under better control than some of them,
though Heaven help the unfortunate upon whom her
momentary wrath descended! But none of the Boits had
those nasty, brooding, subcutaneous tempers. With
them all it was a flash in the pan. The thunder and
lightning might knock things flat in a jiffy, but afterwards
the sun came out brighter than ever, one was permitted
to get to one's feet, rub one's eyes, and to discover there
was nothing better to do than to smile and bask again in
its genial warmth.
I saw her only when I was a boy, but I loved her
dearly and thought of her often, for she never forgot me
at important epochs of my life. When I was eighteen
she gave me my first gold watch, the one I have
turned over to your brother John. Not long after
she sent me a set of carbuncle studs and cuff buttons
 uuuimwyniii  i   il
92 Chronicles of
that I have worn all my life in remembrance of her.
When your sister Mary was born, she sent me from
London a most wonderful box of baby clothes, which
lasted for years. A short time after that when I was
living somewhere on the Hudson, and Mary dying of
malarial fever, I received a check from her that enabled
me to take Mary and her mother at once to Narragansett
Pier, where the dear little baby gradually recovered.
Without a doubt that act of hers saved Mary's life. These
are but a few of her many, many kindnesses to me, so it
is not surprising that I remember her with the deepest
gratitude and affection.
ill §x
Uncle Russell Sturgis married three times. His first
wife was a cousin of his, a Miss Lucy Paine. I have
heard it said that she was ill, perhaps consumption, and
that he married her to take care of her. She died without children. His second wife was my mother's sister,
Mary Hubbard. I will write of her later. His third
wife was my father's sister, Julia Overing Boit, of whom
I am now speaking. Oddly enough, Russell Sturgis
named his first daughter by his second wife, Lucy Paine,
after his first wife; and his first daughter by his third
wife, Mary Greene Hubbard, after his second wife, my
Aunt Mary.
He was a most delightful and agreeable man and
many stories were told of him.   At one time, while living
 The Boit Family
in London, he had a very beautiful little box from which,
when a spring was pressed, a little canary bird came out
and sang. He was very fond of showing this to his
guests and one night after he had been exhibiting it, it
disappeared. He had no suspicion as to which of his
guests, if any, had stolen it. Within a year or two, as
he was going down Bond Street one day, he looked into
a jeweler's window and there, sure enough, was his little
box. He could get no clew from them as to whence it
had come, and he bought it again.
One day at dinner, in London, he was telling his guests
how within a few days, and for the first time of his life,
he had been robbed of his watch, and had advertised
that he would pay liberally for its return, and that no
questions should be asked. Just then his butler told him
there was a man at the front door who insisted upon seeing him at once upon important business. So he excused himself from the table and went to the door.
There stood a man who said he had his watch. Uncle
Russell paid the man five or ten pounds, and received
his watch and chain, and put them in his pocket. Then
he said, " Of course, as you know, I promised not to ask
any questions, but I do wish you would show me how
you did the trick, as I was never robbed before." The
man said, " I '11 show you. I did it this way," etc., etc.,
making certain quick passes at him. Uncle Russell
thanked him and returned to his guests. When he
entered   the   dining-room   he  said,   "Well,  that  is  a
* I
Chronicles of
coincidence! I 've got my watch again ! " Then he began
to explain just how the man said he had stolen it in the
first place, and starting to pull his watch from his pocket,
exclaimed, "By Jove, the man's got it again and the
money too!"
He was very fond of driving a coach and four, especially to the races. He was rather a rapid and reckless
driver, and I 've heard people say he had many " hairbreadth 'scapes." I think it was Mr. Henry S. Hunne-
well who told me that one day when he was staying at
"The Farm" at Leatherhead with a party of guests,
Mr. Sturgis proposed to take them to drive on his coach.
The top was covered with people. As they started from
the door the leaders were frightened at something, became
unmanageable, and in a moment the whole team was
on the dead run.
Mr. Sturgis managed to keep them to the avenue,
but at the gate the turn into the road was abrupt and,
of course, the horses dashed straight ahead, across the
road, and over a fence, where the whole party were
thrown into a plowed field. When they had all got to
their feet and found that no one had been hurt,
Mr. Sturgis, who was entirely cool and cheerful, said,
" Now, I think it's the right time for a kiss all round!"
I have understood this was the last time he ever drove a
four-in-hand.    He was then a man well on in years.
Another anecdote of Uncle Russell occurs to me.
He was a most generous and charitable man, but one day
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he was approached for a subscription by a committee from
some charitable organization in which he was not interested, or of which he did not approve, and he declined to
subscribe. The men were most persistent and finally one
of them said, " Of course, Mr. Sturgis, you realize that
the Lord has appointed you merely as a trustee of this
great wealth which you control." "Yes," answered
Mr. Sturgis, " I quite understand my responsibility. No
doubt, if the Lord had thought you would make a better
trustee, he would have appointed you instead."
When I was a child, he and his family lived at " Rook-
wood," on Scarborough Street, a place he built just near
our place "Ingleside" on Forest Hills Street. Forest
Hills Street was then called Jube's Lane, after a negro
who had lived in a cottage at the foot of the next hill
towards Boston. After Uncle Russell had lived there
a short time, he decided that he had not made enough
money in the East to live comfortably in America. He
thereupon arranged to go again to the Orient with his
family. The steamer he was to take from Boston should
have got him to London in time to connect with the
next steamer sailing for China.
The expressman who brought their belongings to
East Boston from " Rookwood" was so late that the
Cunarder sailed without them. When he (the expressman) arrived at the dock he found all Mr. Sturgis' family
waiting there and the steamer gone. Mr. Sturgis was
so kind to him, when he learnt that the delay was not
1■ ii     i
Chronicles of
altogether his fault, that the poor man burst into tears.
This delay forced Mr. Sturgis and his family to await
the next steamer from Boston and to remain several
weeks in London for the following steamer bound to
the East. It was during this delay in London that a
partnership in Baring Brothers & Co's firm was offered
him, thereby changing his whole life.
So it might be said that Mr. Sturgis' position, as a
member of this great banking house, was directly due to
the tardiness of a Jamaica Plain expressman. Of course,
but for his own reputation as a business man and gentleman, he would not have been offered the position, but
the opportunity arose from his delay in London, and the
expressman gave him this opportunity.
Russell Sturgis and Julia Overing (Boit) Sturgis
had four children: Henry P. Sturgis, Julian Sturgis,
Mary Greene Sturgis and Howard Overing Sturgis, my
first cousins.
1. Henry P. Sturgis, the oldest son, married Mary
Cecilia Brand, the daughter of Mr. Brand, who was
Speaker of the House for many years, and later Lord
Hampden. They had a number of children, who are your
second cousins. One son, Henry, is at present an officer
in the Rifle Brigade. One daughter, Olive, married
Mr. George Barnard Hankey, an officer in the army and at
present with his regiment. After the death of his first
wife, he married the only daughter of George Meredith,
the novelist.    She was, and no doubt is, a very handsome
 The Boit Family
woman. They also have had two children. For many
years he has been a Director of the London and
Westminster Bank. He inherited "The Farm" at
Leatherhead from his father and lives there and in
2. Julian Sturgis, the second son of Russell and Julia
Sturgis, married Mary Maud Beresford, related to the
then Bishop of Armagh. Julian died some years ago
and left his widow with several children. He was a
novelist of distinction, an Oxford man, and a handsome
and delightful companion.
3. Mary Greene Sturgis, the daughter of Uncle Russell
and Aunt Julia, married Leopold Richard Seymour,
Colonel of the Guards, and descended from an illustrious
English family. Most of my own people knew him
well and were exceedingly fond of him, and I, myself,
found him a most courteous, friendly, and simple gentleman. He had a great admiration for Aunt Julia and
told my brother Ned that in rooms full of the nobility of
England, where he had often seen her, Mrs. Sturgis always
stood out, as the most distinguished and aristocratic-
looking woman among them — a high tribute from an
Englishman to his American mother-in-law!
Leopold and Mary (Sturgis) Seymour had five sons
and two daughters, your second cousins.
Several of the sons entered the army and navy and
the Diplomatic Service. Beauchamp, the fourth son, is
in the 60th Rifles.    Edward, the third son, has a staff
1 11
Chronicles of
appointment in the army. Ethel Seymour, the second
daughter, married Eric Bonham, who is at present on
Prince Arthur's staff.
4. Howard Overing Sturgis, Uncle Russell and Aunt
Julia's third son, and youngest child, is, as you know,
unmarried. He was an Eton and Oxford man. He has
written several excellent novels, as well as his brother
Julian, and is a man of unique and delightful personality,
with an unusually large circle of friends. Every member of our family has been indebted to him time and
time again for great hospitality. He has lived for years
in that charming place of his " Queen's Acre " Windsor.
The Sturgis and Boit families are also related through
Susan (Boit) Inches, my first cousin, who married Robert
S. Sturgis, to several families in Philadelphia where they
brought up their handsome family of boys and girls. All
their children are your second cousins. There were seven
of them.
I think I have now told you the story of your Grandfather Boit and, in a general way, of your relations
through him.
Chapter VI
AS I have said my mother was Jane Parkinson
The Hubbard genealogy in this country is so
long and well known that I will write chiefly of those
Hubbards from whom we are directly descended.
The first Reverend William Hubbard came to Boston
in America in 1635. He was born in England in 1595.
He settled in Ipswich, Massachusetts, and became a pastor
there. He died in 1670. I do not remember his wife's
.name beyond that it was Judith and that he married her
in Cambridge, England, in 1620.
A son of his  named  Richard, who graduated from
Harvard in 1653, married Sarah Bradstreet, daughter of   1653
Governor Bradstreet, and this Richard's daughter, Sarah
Hubbard, married the Reverend John Cotton.
Another son of Reverend William Hubbard (1) was
named after his father, William, and also became Reverend
William Hubbard (2) of Ipswich. It is from him that
we are descended. He was born in 1621 and graduated
from Harvard in 1642. This was the first class that ever
graduated from an American college. There were nine
in the class. He was known as the Historian and published a book on the | Indian Wars " and the 1 History
 til If'
Chronicles of
il S
of New England."
He twice officiated as the president
1688   of Harvard College, the last time being June 2, 1688,
when President Increase Mather was abroad.    He died
1704   September 14, 1704 and it is reported of him, "He goes
to ye lecture, after to Col. Appleton's, goes home, sups,
1752   and dyes that night."    A hundred years later, in 1752,
Thomas Hubbard was the treasurer of the college.   This
Reverend William Hubbard (2) married Margaret Rogers.
Their son John Hubbard (3) was born in 1648 and
died in Boston in 1710. He married Anne Leverett,
daughter of Governor Leverett.
Their son, Reverend John Hubbard (4) was born in
1677, graduated from Harvard in 1695, and died in 1706.
He married Mabel Russell.
Their son, Daniel Hubbard (5) was born in 1706, and
died in New London in 1741. He graduated from Yale
in 1727, and married Martha Coit.
Their son, Daniel Hubbard (6), was born in 1736, and
married Mary Greene of Boston. He lived and died in
Boston. He was a Tory when our Revolution broke out,
but whether he remained so throughout our war for
independence, I do not know.
It is my impression he was the first Hubbard to own
plantations in Demerara.
It is the portraits of this Daniel Hubbard and his wife
that were painted by John Singleton Copley, and they are
a most aristocratic and charming looking couple. You
are no doubt familiar with the excellent copies of these
 -,  .. ,,   „ I
The Boit Family
portraits that are owned by your Uncle Edward Darley
The original paintings are now owned by Mrs. William
Tudor, who was Elizabeth Whitwell, and whose mother
was Mary Hubbard, a daughter of Henry Hubbard, a
younger brother of my grandfather, John Hubbard—both
John and Henry being the sons of Daniel Hubbard (6)
and Mary Greene. It was said by my mother and her
brother, the Reverend John P. Hubbard, that these pictures by Copley were left by their grandfather, Daniel, to
their father, John, who was the oldest son, but that they
were lent by him, when he was going abroad, to his
younger brother Henry; that my grandfather died soon
after without reclaiming the pictures, and that my grandmother was never willing to ask for their return.
If this is true, I feel sure that neither Henry's daughter,
Mary Whitwell, nor her daughter, Elizabeth Tudor, ever
knew of it; besides which the silence of the family immediately interested unquestionably made a gift of them.
If they had been inherited from my grandfather, John
Hubbard, by his eldest son, Gardiner Greene Hubbard,
they would now be owned by his son, your cousin, Francis Stanton Hubbard, the oldest of the male race in this
line of the family. There are, of course, many other
branches of this Hubbard family.
To go back to Daniel Hubbard (6) and Mary Greene,
who sat for these portraits. One of their daughters,
Martha, born in 1758, married Adam Babcock.    Adam
Chronicles of
Babcock and his family were prominent in this vicinity as
late as the middle of the nineteenth century. Their
children married into the Bowditch and Higginson families, to whom we are thus related.
When I was a boy, I used to be taken by my mother
to see an old Aunt Babcock — great-aunt I suppose —
who lived, as I remember, in a house on Walnut Street,
Brookline. It is a very old house and stands there today,
directly opposite and facing the road that goes down the
steep hill towards Jamaica Pond, skirted on the left by
the Charles Sargent place. This old Babcock place is
entirely surrounded by the John L. Gardner place and
Walnut Street. It has a date on its chimney. When I
was a child, this was called the old Babcock house, although it is now known by some other family name.
At one time I owned the Babcock family Bible and a
number of their family letters written at the beginning of
the last or nineteenth century. I gave them to Ernest
Bowditch, who is a direct descendant of Adam Babcock.
I remember in one of this old gentleman's letters, written when he was about eighty, and his wife some twenty
years younger, to a son who had lived for many years in
Mauritius, or the Isle of France, he said, " Your lovely
mother wears like a diamond — God bless her! " I
could not forget that. It means so much at the end of
Another daughter of Daniel Hubbard (6) and Mary
Greene, named Elizabeth, born in 1760, married Gardiner
The Boit Family
Greene of Boston, who thereby became the brother-
in-law of my grandfather, John Hubbard. Gardiner
Greene was one of the wealthiest and most prominent
men of his day. His house stood on Somerset Street,
with gardens running down to Tremont Street and
with a fine view of Boston Harbor. I have understood my mother to say that the old Hubbard house
stood by the side of the Gardiner Greene house, between
it and Beacon Street, with similar gardens and terraces
to Tremont Street.
There were several alliances between the Greene and
Hubbard families, still further enlarging relationships
with Boston families — among them the Amorys.
After the death of his wife, Elizabeth Hubbard, Gardiner Greene married, in 1800, Elizabeth Copley, daughter
of John Singleton Copley, the painter, and a sister of
John Singleton Copley, Jr. — afterwards Lord Lynd-
of his first wife,
Daniel Hubbard (6) and Mary Greene, are your great-
great-grandfather and -grandmother.
It is said she was a good mother to the children
I think Elizabeth Hubbard left three
 f si
1  I
Son of Daniel Hubbard (6) and Mary Greene
Chapter VII
■OHN HUBBARD (7), my grandfather, was born
in Boston, in 1765, and died October 1, 1836.    He
was,  of  course,  a  brother  of   Elizabeth — Mrs.
Gardiner Greene.    He first married Elizabeth Patterson,
but left no surviving children by her.    His second wife
was Jane Parkinson, my grandmother.
John Hubbard (7) was one of the richest and most
prominent citizens of his day in Boston. Not only was
he a large owner of real estate in Boston, but he was also
an extensive sugar planter in Demerara, South America.
His largest plantation was called " Mainstay " and there
the family often passed their winters. There two of his
children were born, bis daughter Anne, afterwards Mrs-
James White of London, and one other.
My aunts and uncles had many stories of life in
Demerara, but alas! I cannot recollect them, though I
do remember their telling of one incident. One morning while all the family were on their knees at prayers,
and an old Mr. Austin, a relation, reading to them from
the Bible, the reading stopped. After a few moments
while they still waited devoutly, with closed eyes,
they heard him say, "It's the ship Eliza," and looking up
they found him, still on his knees, with a telescope resting
The Boit Family
on the window-sill in front of him, watching a vessel under
full sail just making the harbor!
John Hubbard (7) owned many slaves in Demerara.
They were finally freed and paid for by the British Government. Thereafter his plantations were given up.
He and my grandmother often went abroad, and returning from one of these journeys they brought with them
in the early years of the last century some fine old furniture, several pieces of which I still own.
They were bought in London at the sale of furniture
of one of the Embassies — the Russian — I have always
understood. The bookcase and writing-desk or secretary
is said to be either a Buhl or Reisner. I am rather
inclined to think the latter, though Mrs. Robert Apthorp
(the mother of the late William F. Apthorp, the musical
critic) who had been intimate with my mother from girlhood, said she had always heard it called Buhl. The
card-tables also are handsome.
Your Great-aunt Charlotte (Blake) Hubbard (Mrs.
Gardiner Greene Hubbard) also inherited two similar
card-tables. My pier-table on which the Lion clock
stands, was bought at the same time, but is, I think, of
another period.
On one occasion returning from Europe, they brought
home with them an English nurse, Mary Thompson, and
and an English cook, Phoebe Robinson. Mary Thompson, or Mammie Thompson, as she was called, brought up
my mother and several of my Hubbard uncles and aunts,
ii I
Chronicles of
and her daughter, Katie Thompson, was our own nurse
and brought me up and some of my sisters.
When we were grown, Katie went for a while to my
cousin, Mrs. Robert Sturgis of Philadelphia, to care for
her children, and then came back to my sister, your
Aunt Jeanie Hunnewell, and brought up all her girls,
and lived with her until she died at the age of seventy.
Thus she and her mother actually brought up three generations of our family.
When my grandmother died, she left old Mammie
Thompson a legacy which took care of her comfortably,
and gave her a nice little house in Newton, where she
and old Phoebe, the cook, lived together till Phoebe died.
Then Mammie Thompson went to Somerville and lived
with a married daughter, Jane Hatch. When Jane
Hatch's son, Arthur, grew up, I took him into my office.
He is a fine fellow and is now in a prominent position
with the Sun Fire Office.
Mammie Thompson and Phoebe died when I was
young, but I remember them well. When I was a
child, Katie often took me to her mother's in Newton,
and sometimes to stay for several days. Mammie was a
fine old woman, as was her daughter Katie.
Phoebe was said to have been one of the best cooks
that ever lived. I chiefly remember, when I was a little
child, her sitting in a rocking-chair, knitting, in Mammie
Thompson's kitchen, and waiting to kiss me good-morning
and good-night.   How I dreaded it!   She was a shrivelled
ill I
IL ,
 The Boit Family
up old woman in cap and spectacles, apparently without
teeth, and with coarse bristling hairs in unusual places
about her face. This kissing was one of the ordeals of
my childhood, and I was called upon to do it with amazing regularity.
Children are so curiously observant and their feelings
in these respects receive so little consideration. Fortunately for the youngsters of today, the succulent and
caved-in lips of the old people of my youth are no longer
so painfully in evidence. Dentistry supplies this decadence of nature, and often in this respect age appears to
be in better condition than youth.
I recollect, too, that Mammie Thompson had a cross
little white dog that was always snapping and barking at
me, and tried my courage to the utmost.
Then, too, we had another fine old family servant —
Janet Black, a Scotch woman—a seamstress, who lived
with us for many years, from the time when I was a boy.
She afterwards lived with your Aunt Jeanie Hunnewell,
and died at her house at the advanced age of ninety-one.
She too was of the best and devoted to the family. I
could sing today songs she sang to me when I was a
child. She was of a sentimental nature, and one of her
songs went like this:
We met — 't was in a crowd,
And I thought he would shun me,
 ,UI".li|i ffi""""'il " "*■"■■"—■
mini i  SmiiuL^t
108 Chronicles of
He spake, his words were love,
And his eye was upon me.
. . . He's wed to another.
Oh! thou, hast been the cause,
Of this anguish! My mother!
It is pleasant to recall these faithful old servants, who
seemed like true members of our family.
But to go back to my grandfather, John Hubbard (7):
As I have said, he owned a great deal of real estate in
Boston. He seemed to have the same views as some of
the ancestors of the rich New York families. He bought
land and built upon it and then rented his houses — and
these are some of the houses I happen to remember that
he built and owned:
A portion of the Liberty Square Warehouses, where
is now Liberty Square; the houses on the south side of
Howard Street; a number of houses on Somerset Street;
either three or four houses on Beacon Street, beginning
at the east corner of Beacon and Joy Streets; three or
four houses on Mt. Vernon Place, beginning with house
nearest the State House on the south side of the street.
The house No. 8 Walnut Street, on the east side, with a
yard towards Beacon Street, and with one row of its
windows looking down Chestnut Street. This is the
house in which I was born, and a delightful house it is,
I < 1 I1.
 The Boit Family
by the way! — many houses on both sides of Chestnut
Street; all the houses on the lower side of West Cedar
Street between Chestnut Street and Mt. Vernon Street.
Some of these houses were owned by his children
when I was a boy, but I think they have now all passed
out of the family. A Mr. Curtis told me he bought, a
few years ago, one of the houses originally built by my
grandfather, on Chestnut Street, simply because it was
so well built, and had such handsome fireplaces, staircases and wood-work in it.
When the Marquis de Lafayette visited this country
in 1824, at the invitation of Congress, he was entertained in Boston. My mother told me their family coach
was borrowed by the city to take him about, because her
father's coach was at that time the only coach, or one of
the few coaches in Boston, with liveried servants. I
wonder if there were two on the box, and two hanging
to the straps behind!
By the way, for this occasion an arch was built on the
Neck, now Washington Street, just above Dover Street
—a triumphal arch under which Lafayette was driven —
and on it was an inscription too good to be forgotten. It
was written by Charles Sprague, and was as follows:
liM    '
1  III
to I
[': m
• Ml
Chronicles of
" The fathers in glory shall sleep,
That gathered with thee to the fight;
But the sons will eternally keep
The tablet of gratitude bright.
We bow not the neck; we bend not the knee:
But our hearts, Lafayette, we surrender to thee! "
Towards the end of his life, John Hubbard (7) lost a
very considerable part of his property in a most unfortunate and unforseen way. He was in Europe with my
grandmother and had left one of his Hubbard cousins in
charge of his property during his absence. One day a
man who owed my grandfather a note for $1,000, came
into this cousin's office and said he could not pay the
note which was about to fall due, but would secure it, by
transferring to him, my grandfather, ten shares in a
large manufacturing corporation. I think it was a cotton mill. His cousin thereupon accepted the security
and had it transferred to my grandfather — no doubt a
natural thing to do, but without my grandfather's knowledge or consent.
Within a very short time and while Mr. Hubbard was
still abroad, the corporation failed and it was found that
he was one of the few stockholders of large means. At
that time every stockholder was liable for the debts of a
corporation. When my grandfather got the news, if I
am not mistaken, he appointed his son-in-law, Russell
 The Boit Family
Sturgis, then a young man, to make the best settlement
he could with his creditors.
A settlement was made for $350,000, or thereabouts,
and to raise this sum Mr. Sturgis was obliged to sell at
a great sacrifice large parcels of Mr. Hubbard's real
estate. Such a loss made a great hole in his fortune
and in his happiness, and I am under the impression he
did not live for many years after this calamity. Still,
when he and my grandmother died, there was left some
$400,000 or $500,000 to be divided among his heirs.
Even that amount was a large fortune in those days. I
have understood that this was the last case of the kind
in Massachusetts, for the great injustice of it was realized and the law was changed.
This John Hubbard (7), your great-grandfather, was
also one of the first citizens of Boston to build a summer
cottage at Nahant. It is my impression that his and
Mr. Perkins' houses were actually the first. His Nahant
house was at the northwest corner of the street which
runs south from the church used in summer by the
cottagers, next to the property now owned by the heirs
of the late Charles T. Lovering. The land ran to the
little road above the beach and looked southwest towards
Deer Island and the channel. There his large family
of boys and girls are said to have passed many happy
It was in those days that your grandfather, Edward
Darley Boit, with his brothers-in-law, Gardiner Greene
Chronicles of
Bill   1
Hubbard, John P. Hubbard, George Hubbard, and their
friend, Mr. William Dehon, hired a small yacht from
Boston, and with its skipper started off one morning to
fish and shoot on some of the islands off the Beverly
Between Nahant and Egg Rock, a fierce Northwester
struck them and they capsized, and their yacht, with
colors flying, went to the bottom like lead. Fortunately
for them they were closely followed by Captain Benjamin C. Clarke in his schooner-yacht Raven, and as they
capsized, she shot so close to them that the skipper and
George Hubbard managed to jump aboard. The rest of
them were twenty minutes or more in the water before
the Raven could get back and pick them up. Meanwhile John Hubbard, who went over with his shot-gun
in his hand, his shooting-jacket pockets weighed down
with powder and shot, and wearing long-legged shooting-
boots, had a hard time of it. My father said at first
John tried to hold his gun above the water, but only his
eyes showed, and soon the gun went down. Then he
managed to slip out of his shooting-jacket, and before he
was rescued he had already got off one of his boots.
Uncle John was always a great swimmer even to the
end of his life.
Your Grandfather Boit had busied himself with Mr.
Dehon, who could not swim, and succeeded in keeping
him up until they were all rescued by Captain Clarke.
Mr. Dehon considered that your grandfather had saved
The Boit Family
his life, and he expressed his sense of obligation in a
very pleasant way. Every Christmas thereafter as long
as he lived, he sent my brother Ned a handsome Christmas present. You can easily imagine the first question we
other children asked on Christmas morning was, " What
has Ned got from Mr. Dehon ? "
I remember one of these presents, many, many years
after the accident, was the fastest sled on Boston Common, which had been renamed by him " Jane," after my
mother. I was devoted to coasting, so this sled soon
came to me, and with her I won many a race.
Two paintings of this shipwreck were made at the
time by a Boston artist: one is owned by a descendant
of Mr. Benjamin C. Clarke, and the other, as you know,
I inherited, and gave to your brother John. It hangs in
his room.
The last generation was full of tales of this Nahant
house, but I have forgotten most of them. One recurs
to me:
George Hubbard's room was directly off the breakfast-
room, and one morning after the rest of the family had
apparently finished breakfast and gone, George slipped
in there directly out of bed and in very scant attire.
Suddenly he heard some one at one of the doors coming
in. There was nothing to do but slip under the table
concealed by the cloth. Who should enter but my Aunt
Julia Boit, who was staying with them, and was also late.
She sat down at the table and quietly ate her breakfast.
Chronicles of
George stood it as long as he could, but was growing
colder and more uncomfortable all the time. Suddenly
Aunt Julia heard a familiar voice from under the table:
| Julia, if you don't leave this instant, I'll come out just
as lam /" and she fled incontinently.   She knew her man.
John Hubbard (7) married Jane Parkinson, as I have
said. Her brother, John Parkinson (1), had a farm near
us when I was a boy and lived at " Ingleside," our place
on Forest Hills Street. His place was also absorbed by
Franklin Park. When the father of this John and Jane
Parkinson died, their mother married a Mr. Austin. She
was my great-grandmother.
I remember her, though I think her daughter, Jane,
my grandmother, died within a year of my birth. This
Great-grandmother Austin (formerly Mrs. Parkinson) had
children who were, of course, half-brothers and half-sisters
of John Parkinson (1) and Jane Parkinson, my grandmother. One of these half-sisters, Letitia Austin, who
was my mother's aunt, married Jonathan Amory, and
her children were George Amory, Charles B. Amory,
Gordon Amory, Mrs. Harriet Garner of New York,
Mrs. Manlius Sargent of Boston, and several others.
This George Amory married Caroline Bigelow, daughter of Judge Bigelow, and their daughter, Constance,
who married Alexander Philip Wadsworth, has been at
our house in Islesboro, Maine.
Charles B. Amory married Lily Clap, of New Orleans,
and has several sons and daughters.
 The Boit Family
Gordon Amory married Miss Ernst and has no children.
As I have shown you, the children of Jonathan Amory
were my mother's first cousins and my first cousins, once
Mrs. Garner (Harriet Amory) was the mother of the
first wife of Oliver Iselin of New York, the great yachtsman.
Mrs. Manlius Sargent was the mother of Mrs. Nathan
Matthews of Boston, and Sullivan Sargent of Boston,
who are my second cousins.
The son of John Parkinson (1) my great-uncle, was
John Parkinson (2) who married Gertrude Weld, and
was my first cousin, once removed. His son, John Parkinson (3), who married Miss Emmons, is my second cousin.
Many of the children of Jonathan Amory and Letitia
(Austin) Amory were extremely distinguished-looking
men and women, very high-bred and with much personal
dignity, and Harriet Garner was certainly very beautiful.
It is through a brother of Aunt Letitia (Austin)
Amory that we are also related to Mary Austin, the
mother of Mrs. I. Tucker Burr.
Through the Greenes we are also related to another
branch of the Amory family, and also to the Hammond
family of Boston.
Mr. Charles Hubbard (1) of Weston was also my
mother's first cousin. Charles W. Hubbard (2) of Weston, whose son, Charles W. Hubbard (3) was a classmate and   friend of your brother John, is  my second
IS 11
Chronicles of
cousin, as also his sisters, Lottie Hubbard (Mrs. Benjamin Young), Elizabeth Hubbard (Mrs. Francis Blake),
and Loulie Hubbard (Mrs. Canda of New York).
The late Mrs. Martin Brimmer of Boston, who was a
Miss Timmins, was named oddly enough Mary Anne,
after my aunts, Mary and Anne Hubbard.
I have heard it said that from Reverend William
Hubbard (1) to Francis Stanton Hubbard (9) in direct
descent, none of these Hubbards had been in trade.
Having explained who John Hubbard's (7) wife, Jane
Parkinson was, and having told you of some of her relations, I will turn to their children—my Hubbard uncles
and aunts.
1. Mary Hubbard, born in 1806, the second wife of
Russell Sturgis, who afterwards married my Aunt Julia
Overing Boit.    Their children were:
Russell Sturgis (2) who first married Susan Welles
of Boston and by her had children: Russell Sturgis (3),
who married Anne O. Bangs; Susan Welles Sturgis, who
married John Preston; Richard Clipston Sturgis, who
married Esther M. Ogden of New York; William Codman
Sturgis, who married Carolyn Hall, who passed much of
her youth in South America.
2. Anne Hubbard, born in 1811, who married James
White of London and  Ceylon.    In  Ceylon he was a
The  Boit Family
successful merchant. He represented Messrs. Baring
Brothers & Co. there for many years, and. finally retired
from business and returned to London. They had many
children and descendants. Their most illustrious son
was John Hubbard White who became a General of the
Royal Engineers in the British army, and was at one
time Master of the Mint in Bombay.
3. Gardiner Greene Hubbard (8), born 1813, who married Charlotte Caldwell Blake, a first cousin of George
Baty Blake, who married her sister. Their children are
Francis Stanton Hubbard (9), who married Mabel Hill,
an Englishwoman, and John G. Hubbard, who married
Jane Frances Ferguson.
4. Elizabeth Hubbard, born in 1815, who married John    1815
Singleton Copley Greene.    She left no children.    She
was said to have been a beautiful and brilliant woman,
very musical and with a lovely voice.
5. Martha Hubbard, born in 1816.    When she was    1816
about eighteen, she walked to a party and home again in
thin slippers.    She took a violent cold and died a short
time after.    She was engaged to be married at the time.
6. Jane Parkinson Hubbard (8) born in 1818, who
married Edward Darley Boit (3), my father and mother.
I will speak of their children later.
7. Reverend John Parkinson Hubbard, born in 1820,
who married Adelaide McCulloh. They lost seven unmarried children. Their other children are Russell Sturgis
Hubbard, married Miss Elizabeth Perry; Mary Hubbard,
 Iff II
Chronicles of
unmarried; Annie Hubbard, unmarried; Lucy Hubbard,
married William Hamilton Jefferys; Edith Hubbard,
8. George Hubbard, who married and died without
children, after a most adventurous and unfortunate life.
Son of Edward Darley Boit and
Jane Parkinson Hubbard
Chapter VIII
EDWARD DARLEY BOIT (4) was born May 16,
1840, in Boston.    He attended the Boston Latin
School and later the school of Epes S. Dixwell
in Boylston Place, the most popular school of the day,
where he was  finally prepared to enter college.    He
graduated from Harvard in the Class of '63.
He was a large, strong man, nearly six feet tall, and
rowed on his Freshman class crew, which in that year
was successful against the Yale Freshmen on Lake
Quinsigamond at Worcester. I remember, too, hearing
most creditable stories of his prowess in a hand-to-hand
encounter on the Delta with a Sophomore on " Football
Night." I believe it was fought to a finish in the centre
of an eager ring of students and that the honors were
about evenly divided between the contestants, and with
sufficient for both.
While in college, he was Secretary and President of the
Institute; Secretary and Poet of the Hasty Pudding Club;
a member of the D. K. E. and A. D. F. It is said that he
wrote the initiation of the D. K. E., much of which was
 gggE"      3£  ;2F
Chronicles of
used for a long time afterwards. He was Class Poet when
1863 he graduated in 1863, and I remember that James Russell
Lowell highly commended his poem, and said it gave him
great pleasure to be able to understand it, "which was so
rarely the case with Class Poems."
I will add here the closing lines of this Harvard Class
Day poem. I think them particularly appropriate to that
" Beside the College gate, on either hand,
Old "Harvard Hall" and "Massachusetts" stand,
Where long, through summer's heat and winter's snow,
They 've watched youth's annual tide now ebb, now flow.
And lo! a venerable form appears,—
His shoulders bending with the weight of years.
In at the gate, with faltering step and slow,
Across the shady green, we see him go.
Beneath his arm he bears a time-worn book;
Now round the scene he casts a curious look,
As if, 'mid passing groups, he sought to trace
The features of one well-remembered face.
Now, sighing, turns and wipes away a tear,
That he, once so well known, should be a stranger here.
And now he stands within that Gothic Hall,
Where countless volumes line the lofty wall;
And to the guardian of the treasures there
The old man thus : ' To thy protecting care
This volume I commit,— a sacred trust,—
liiil m
The Boit Family
Record of deeds, whose authors sleep in dust.
Long years ago, united heart and hand,
They issued from these walls, a youthful band,
With manly courage, and with honest hearts.
On Life's wide stage they played their various parts;
All strove alike, with powers some more, some less;
And all deserved, while some achieved success;
Some died in youth and manhood, some in age;
None left a blot on this unblemished page.
When, in their course, a few more seasons roll,
My happy name shall close the glorious scroll.'
— The vision fades !    Classmates, it rests with you
To make this final picture false or true! "
After graduation, he entered the Harvard Law School,
took his degree, and was admitted to the Massachusetts
At about this time he published in one of our magazines an essay on the Letters of Junius, which was very
favorably reviewed by the critics. I have been told by
some of his legal friends that he had an admirable legal
and judicial mind, and should never have given up his
first-chosen profession.
On June 16, 1864, a year after graduation, he was
married in Christ Church, in Cambridge, to Mary Louisa
Cushing, daughter of John Peck Cushing of Boston, a
successful merchant, who had come back from the East
with a large fortune and built the beautiful house, and
Chronicles of
I Hi
laid out around it the fine estate which he called " Belmont," and after which the town of Belmont was named.
Her mother was Mary Louisa Gardiner of Boston.
Mary Louisa (Cushing) Boit was an only daughter.
Both her father and mother were dead at the time of
her marriage. She had three brothers: John Gardiner
Cushing, who married Susan Dexter; Robert M. Cushing,
who married Olivia Dulany of Baltimore; and Thomas F.
Cushing, who married Frances Grinnell of New York,
who was the daughter of Moses Grinnell and a first
cousin, once removed, of ryour mother, Lilian (Willis)
The wedding reception was a grand occasion. The
lawns and gardens were in their most beautiful condition,
the day itself perfect, and what can surpass a perfect day
in June, with life in tune to it ? It was a wonderful day,
a wonderful place, a wonderful house, a wonderful gathering, and the very loveliest of brides.
I was just eighteen and a groomsman. I drove my
bridesmaid over to Belmont that morning. We were so
very young and so full of all the hopes and possibilities
of life! We promised that if either of us were ever engaged the other should be the first told. What supreme
simplicity and youth!
The groomsmen were Thomas F. Cushing, John C.
Warren, Lawrence Mason, George C. Shattuck, Francis
L. Higginson, Francis C. Loring, George Wheatland and
myself, and the bridesmaids, my sisters Lizzie and Jeanie,
 The Boit Family
Anna Sargent, Rosamond Warren, Alice Bradlee, Marian
Jackson, Harriet Inches, and Florence Dumaresq.
We had a grand time with dancing all the afternoon
in the long drawing-rooms. This Belmont was more like
a fine old English place than any near Boston, and its
lawns and gardens and groves and farms and dairies and
long avenues of English elms were unsurpassed. The
gardens near the house were in their June beauty, and
at that time no gardens near Boston equalled them.
Over the centre of the garden was a large marque^ covering the fountain. Here the refreshments were served.
How many delightful days and nights I passed there
while I was in college! A few years later this place
was sold by the Cushing family.
Your Aunt Isa, as Mary Louisa (Cushing) Boit was
called, was one of the best friends I ever had, and our
intimacy and affection lasted throughout her life without
a break. A great, noble-hearted woman, whose foibles
and eccentricities added to her charms. Once when she
heard I was hard up, she wanted to sell her jewels to
help me. Very properly she was not allowed to do so.
The thought did not make me love her less.
In 1889,1 went abroad with my brother Edward, who
had been visiting this country. After passing a few
weeks together in Paris, he and I went on to Ouchy,
where Isa and the children were stopping at the Beau
Rivage. There I picked up Isa and we two went to
Bayreuth to a Wagner Festival, stopping in Nuremberg,
I SI Ml.-
Chronicles of
Basel, Heidelburg and Zurich, and one or two other
places, going and coming. We had a great time, and
she proved herself a most delightful and admirable
travelling companion.
Shortly after their marriage your Uncle Edward built
a charming house at Newport, above the Spouting Horn,
at the end of Bailey's Beach, known as " The Rocks."
They lived there and entertained there for several sum-
1871   mers, until they went to Europe, in 1871.    It is now
owned by Henry Clews of New York.
Your Uncle Edward and Aunt Isa spent a large part
of their married life abroad, where several of their children were born, and where your uncle devoted his life
to painting. They came to this country from time to
time for longer or shorter visits, and your Uncle Ned
crossed the Atlantic not less than forty or fifty times.
1871    He began work as a painter in 1871, studying for several
1876 years in Rome and Paris. In the spring of 1876, his
picture, a landscape, " Rocks, Beach, and Ocean," was
accepted at the Salon in Paris. His water-colors were
distinguished and are in many galleries abroad. You are
all, no doubt, familiar with the set of his water-colors
purchased by the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. He
first worked with Frederick Crowninshield, in Rome, and
later with Couture and especially with Francais, in Paris.
Your Uncle Edward Boit's wife, Mary Louisa Cushing
died in Dinard, France, after a most painful illness, on
!894   the 29th of September, 1894, and was buried in Paris.
The Boit Family
There are four living daughters of this marriage and
there were several children that died young. The living
daughters are, Florence Dumaresq Boit, Jane Hubbard
Boit, Mary Louisa Boit, Julia Overing Boit, and none of
them have married.
January 5, 1897, your Uncle Edward Boit married his    1897
second wife, Florence Little, daughter of Captain William
McCarty Little, U. S. N., of Newport, Rhode Island.
April 28, 1902, his wife, Florence Little Boit, died in
Paris, France, leaving two sons, Julian McCarty Boit and
Edward Boit. She died at the birth of her last son, and
was buried in Newport, Rhode Island. These boys, as
you know, lived with the grandfather and grandmother,
Captain and Mrs. Little, in Newport, Rhode Island, and
are both at present in St. George's School in Newport.
Captain Little died in March, 1915.
After the death of his second wife, your Uncle Ned
built a large house next to mine on Colchester Street,
Brookline, intending to pass his winters, for the remainder of his life, in America. After living in it for several
winters, his daughters, who had passed so much of their
lives abroad, could not accustom themselves to life in
America, and persuaded him to take apartments in Paris.
There they have remained, and their delightful house is
rented to others.   This was a great disappointment to me.
As you also know, your uncle and three of his girls
have passed their summers for many years at his Villa
"Cernitoio," twenty miles from Florence, near the famous
Chronicles of
11 if ii
forests of Vallombrosa. It is an old convent, once owned
by the monks of Vallombrosa, altered over into a villa by
a Roman architect, employed by your uncle for that purpose. It retains the spirit of old Italy. It is in the mountains, some twenty-five hundred feet above the sea, with
fine views down the Valley of the Arno, and of its surrounding ranges of hills and mountains. There are
several hundred acres of lands, and a number of farms
under cultivation on the place. Looking to the westward and sunsets, there are some fine terraces with
fountains and flower gardens. A short distance below
the terraces is the old picturesque square tower of
Ristonchi, said to have been built in the tenth century.
It is dwelt in by some of his farm laborers.
Henry James, the author, once said, after sitting awhile
on one of the terraces, " Ned, you have the front seat in
the finest theatre in the world! " or words to that effect.
In pleasant weather, on the upper terrace next the
house, the family set their table for their meals, with
one of the loveliest of views imaginable spread before
them, as well as the best of Italian food. I think
there are five fountains on the various terraces, playing
day and night. Their cool and grateful singing is never
more delicious than on warm summer nights, yet people
have been known to ask to be moved to the other end
of the house to get rid of the sound of them.
Your Uncle Ned was a good landlord. He not only
brought down an abundance of water from the springs
 The Boit Family
in the mountains above him for the use of his own Villa
and gardens, but also piped water to the various farms
on his estate. The families on some of these farms
have lived there for untold generations. They pay tribute, by way of rent, with a certain percentage of their
farm products. His tenants were devoted to him and
his family.
Of late years Edward Darley Boit (4) and his family
have passed their winters in Paris, as I have said. This
year, the winter of 1914-1915, they lived in Rome,
where your Uncle Edward died on the 21st of April,
1915, in the seventy-fifth year of his life.
He had been taken seriously ill with hardening of the
arteries ten months before, and had gone through a long
period of great suffering.
John S. Sargent painted your uncle's portrait, and
also that of his first wife, Mary Louisa Cushing, and
again that of her four girls standing in their Paris hallway. They are all beautiful pictures and that of the
children one of Sargent's masterpieces. At present this
last picture is loaned to the Boston Art Museum. The
others are in Paris.
Happening to refer to my journal, I find that on
Thursday, April 9, 1903, I gave a dinner to John S.
Sargent at the Somerset Club, and will give you the
list of guests, which I think is an interesting one:
Benjamin Kimball, lawyer, and collector of all rare and
lovely things, a connoisseur of art, a Papyrus president.
il I
Chronicles of
T. Russell Sullivan, who adapted the play of Jekyl
and Hyde, and has written much in prose and verse;
also a Papyrus president.
Horatio G. Curtis, bank president and collector of prints.
Henry S. Howe, merchant and collector of books and
Robert S. Peabody, architect, lover of art, yet still
the man who built our custom house.
Edward Robinson, at that time Director of the
Museum of Fine Arts.
Doctor Frederick C. Shattuck, my chum in college
and friend ever since.
Joseph De Camp, the painter, Sargent and myself.
We sat down at half past seven and did not get up
till half past twelve. A most agreeable lot of men, and
a delightful evening!
I had the pleasure of entertaining Sargent on several
other occasions and always found him a most charming
companion. I never heard him say an unkind, or unpleasantly critical word of any fellow artist. He told me
we had as good a set of portrait painters in Boston as
there were in the world today, and cited specifically
De Camp and Tarbell and Lock wood.
John Sargent once told me he did not really understand his own success, that he never felt that he controlled, had in his grasp, his own power to paint; that
he felt as if it were outside of himself, and might leave
him at any moment.
 The Boit Family
I, myself, have hung four of Sargent's water-color exhibitions, two in New York and two in Boston. It gave
me an intimacy with, and appreciation of his wonderful
work, that I could hardly have got in any other way.
Edward Darley Boit (4) was a man of great personal
dignity and beauty. Nothing could give a better or
more truthful idea of his face than Sargent's portrait of
him. He was a very distinguished-looking man, and
always most particular about his dress. His manners
and bearing were as simple and distinguished as his person. He impressed all who knew him as a very "big"
man, and his kindliness, and generosity, and hospitality
were not to be surpassed.
In many ways he was a veritable prince and lived like
one. Yet with all his love for the beautiful and refined
in life, he was democratic in his tastes, and no respector
of persons, or titles.
He did not know the meaning of the word snob, and
I 've heard him say, "The world is divided into two
classes — those who are worth while, and those who are
not." This was, I think, a very correct expression of
his views, and he lived up to them.
He was a most cultivated man and a steady reader.
He entertained many people in his various houses, and
was always a most agreeable and admirable host.
Whether they were rich and distinguished or poor and
dependent, there was no difference in his treatment of
.     ■ '
Chronicles of
1 1  K   i
He had great self-control and self-possession, but
when his indignation was once aroused, the wise kept
quiet. My brother John used to say, "When you see
Ned's eyes growing beady, look out for yourself! "
He was loved and respected and admired by all who
knew him, and few had a greater host of friends. At
his death a real personality left the world, and left the
world richer by his art, and the memories of a manly,
noble gentleman.
Edward Darley Boit was a member of the " Somerset
Club," of Boston, the "Union," of Paris, and the "St.
James'," of London.
1 I
Daughter of Edward Darley Boit and
Jane Parkinson Hubbard
Chapter IX
ton, July 7, 1842. She was a fine-looking woman— 1842
at times decidedly handsome. She was an agreeable companion with a keen sense of humor. She went
to various schools in Boston, finishing at that of Professor
Agassiz, which was the fashionable school for young ladies
in my young days.
I remember while Lizzie was there, the schoolgirls
were set in a state of great commotion or emotion. One
of them received anonymously the following verses, well
suited to excite romantic thoughts in the feminine breast
at the age of sixteen or eighteen. Of course they were
soon read and copied by all the young women in the
school, and thus through Lizzie, came into my possession.
Best beloved — beyond your sight,
Where the hills rise bleak and white;
Chronicles of
One whose faint and erring feet
Walk where light and shadow meet;
One whose true heart never knew
Any other love but you —
Murmurs, on his death bed lying —
Love me — love — for I am dying.
Many a league of hill and plain
Stretches wide between us twain;
Traversed only by my thought,
Out of love and anguish wrought;
And my voice still trembles through
Songs once sung by me and you,
Like an echo low replying —
Love me — love — for I am dying.
Though the smiling angels wait
Leaning from the shining gate —
Though their white hands stretching down
Offer life's unfading crown —
I would yield it even now
For thy kiss upon my brow!
Crush me not with cold denying!
Love me — love — for I am dying.
Though sweet voices call me o'er
Softly to the other shore —
The Boit Family
Where all sorrowing hearts find peace,
And their weary achings cease —
Yet my soul, which never knew
Any Heaven away from you,
Will not cease its anguish, crying —
Love me — love — for I am dying.
Lizzie was presented at the Court of St. James, in
London, when she first came out into society.
My father and mother passed the winter of 1866-1867
in Providence, Rhode Island, so that my father might be
near some printworks which he was then building at
Apponaug, Rhode Island. My sister Lizzie returned
from Europe at that time and passed the winter with
them in Providence. Here it was that she met in society
Joseph Hurlbert Patten, son of William S. Patten of
Providence, and Eliza Bridgham Patten. William S.
Patten, Joseph's father, was one of the prominent and
well-to-do gentlemen of Providence and president, or cashier of one of its leading banks.   I remember him well.
He was a particularly distinguished and aristocratic-
looking man, dignified and courtly in his manner, and
most punctilious in dress. His face was close-shaven
and his features clear-cut and regular. Distinctly a gentleman of the old school, and with a quiet, self-possessed
urbanity of manner, that one rarely has the pleasure of
meeting today. His son, Joseph, was one of the best
men I have known.    He married Elizabeth Greene Boit,
Ii II11
Chronicles of
1867 in Boston, on the 20th of June, 1867, when I had just
become a senior in college.
They were married, I think, in the Arlington Street
Church in Boston, and the reception was at our Boston
house, No. 30 Marlborough Street. It was at this reception that my father said to one of Ned's friends as
he was leaving the house, " Frank, come back and have
another glass of champagne." " No, thank you, sir, I've
had plenty already." "You don't look so," said my
father. "Then," said Frank, "my looks belie my appearances ! I
They lived after marriage in Providence, Rhode Island,
with a pleasant summer place at Warwick Neck, Rhode
Island, on Narragansett Bay. They were most hospitable people, and many a pleasant time have I passed
with them both in Providence and Warwick.
Joseph H. Patten was born March 8, 1836, was married, as I have said, on June 20,  1867, and died in
1874 Providence, in December, 1874, when he was only thirty-
eight years old.    His wife, Elizabeth (Boit) Patten, died
1875 in the following spring, April 14, 1875, when she was
thirty-three years old.    They left three children:
Jane Boit Patten, born in Providence, June 8, 1869;
Eliza Bridgham Patten, born in Providence, September
17, 1871, died in Jackson, New Hampshire, September
4, 1890; William S. Patten, born in Providence, July 21,
1873, married to Anna Thayer, June 16, 1904, daughter
of Nathaniel Thayer of Boston and Lancaster.
Son of Edward Darley Boit and
Jane Parkinson Hubbard
Chapter X
ROBERT APTHORP BOIT, was born at No. 8
Walnut Street, Boston, on the 29th of April, 1846. 1846
I passed the first seven years of my life at
"Ingleside," on Forest Hills Street, in a house built by
my father at that time, and, as I have said before, now
embodied in Franklin Park. The seventh and eighth
winters of my life we lived in West Cedar Street, Boston.
Our first winter in Boston, when I was seven, I went
to a Miss Brown's school at the head of Chestnut Street,
and the second to Miss Louisa Alcott's on Pinckney
Street. She was the author of "Little Women" and
many other children's stories.
I remember well her father, old Mr. Bronson Alcott,
who was afterwards noted as one of the Concord School
of Philosophy. When we were naughty, our punishment
was to be put in a chair facing the table at which he sat
in his library, and he would occasionally raise his gray-
bearded head from his work, and from under his bushy
eyebrows peer at us over his spectacles. That was sufficient to fill my infant soul with awe.
:   - if
Chronicles of
I was taught a good lesson one day by Miss Alcott.
Annah and Charley Lovering, five and seven years old,
also went to this school. I always heard them call Miss
Alcott "Ollie" and so tried it myself one day. I was
immediately reproved by her. She told me that she
had been the governess of the Lovering children, and so
they had got into the habit of calling her "Ollie," but
she did not wish other children to call her so. I was
only seven, but it made an impression I never forgot.
Of course it hurt my feelings at the time, but the lesson
was a useful one, and rarely, if ever, in life thereafter
did I put myself in a position where I could be accused
of being " fresh," as the slang term goes today.
1855 The following spring, in 1855, on my father's return
from Chicago, he purchased a small house in Eliot Street,
Jamaica Plain, near Jamaica Pond. They used to call
the house the Crystal Palace, it had so many windows.
My father added to it and made it very comfortable.
We lived there until I was twelve. It was delightful
to a small boy to be so near the pond, for there I
learned to swim and skate at a very early age.
At this time we passed two summers at East Gloucester. The first summer we and Mr. and Mrs. David
Greenough and their children, also from Jamaica Plain,
and a Mr. and Mrs. Ashton and their one little girl filled
a Wonson boarding-house, close to the shore opposite Ten
Pound Island. The second summer we, and the Henry
Sargent family filled the house, and my intimacy with
 The Boit Family
this delightful family began. Mr. Henry Sargent was
the grandfather of Mrs. Henry S. Hunnewell.
While we lived in Eliot Street in 1855-1856, Lucy
Sturgis stayed with us, and while there became engaged
to Charles R. Codman. I remember they always sat
with us in the evening and did not go off to a room by
themselves, as do young couples of this generation, and
others before them, when they had a chance. The conversation was general and often Lucy and my mother
sang duets at the piano. They both had sweet, light
voices and their songs were tuneful and simple. Lucy
sang the contralto, or second, which seemed quite wonderful to me. When it was time for Charles to leave, I
can hear my father say, " Lucy, go and find Charles' hat
for him," and then with some embarrassment, they would
disappear into the entry, and later the front door would
In the early winter of 1856, when I was nearly ten,
my mother took me abroad with her to stay with
Uncle Russell and Aunt Julia Sturgis in England. It
was an important time in the family for Cousin Russell
Sturgis, Jr., had just married Susan Welles, and Cousin
Lucy Sturgis was going home to England, to be
married to Charles Codman. We all went out together
if I am not mistaken.
We first went to Uncle Russell's place " Coombwood "
near Richmond Park. There Lucy was married from
her father's house, to Charles Codman, in the quaintest
Chronicles of
!i II
and tiniest of little English Churches nearby, and on the
border of Richmond Park.
There I learned to ride on " Donald," the Sturgis boys'
Shetland pony, and great fun it was.
Some time after the wedding my mother and I went
to Paris to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Wainwright.
She was a Miss Coolidge and an old friend of mama.
Paris made a great impression on me. For the first time
even at this early age, I discovered French cooking, and
rejoiced in the many delicious ways they cooked potatoes.
We were in Paris over Easter, and I made my acquaintance with infinite varieties of inedible Easter eggs. We
were there at the birth of the Prince Imperial, who was
afterwards to be killed by the Zulus in South Africa.
Twenty-one guns were to be fired if it was a girl — one
hundred, if a boy. When the guns began to boom, all
Paris rushed to the streets ; at the sound of the twenty-
second gun there was an uproar of enthusiam throughout
the city. Little Gracie Wainwright of my own age told
me the Lord had presented the Prince to the Empress
in an Easter egg.
This Mrs. Benjamin Wainwright was a sister of Mrs.
Benjamin T. Reed of Boston, one of my mother's bridesmaids. Mrs. Wainwright was killed by run-away horses
attached to a hack. They dashed on to the Beacon
Street sidewalk at the corner of Charles Street, where
Mrs. Wainwright was walking with her sister, Mrs.
Reed.    The sisters had seen these run-away horses go
 The Boit Family
Strange she should have been saved for such a
I think a daughter of
down Beacon Street and turn into Arlington Street.
The horses ran entirely round the Public Gardens and
came back to them at the corner of Beacon and Charles
This same Mrs. Wainwright had been saved, with her
husband and child, from a burning ship in the middle of
the Atlantic. They were separated in the boats and his
hair turned white in a night. It had been a miraculous
horrid death as was hers at last!
hers married a Parrish of New York; was not her name
In the late spring of 1856, after my birthday, which I
passed in London, my mother and I returned to Boston,
where she was faced at the wharf with the news of the
death of her brother, Gardiner Greene Hubbard.
Robert Gould Shaw came over with us from London
—he, who afterwards distinguished himself in the Civil
War, and whose monument, showing him leading his
colored troops, stands on Boston Common, opposite the
State House. He seemed to me very old at the time,
and won my entire respect and admiration by his affability and consideration. I suppose in reality he was not
then much over twenty.
My mother and I crossed to England in the Cunard
steamer, Canada, a side-wheeler of twenty-five hundred
tons. We returned in the Baltic, a somewhat larger
boat of the American line.    I think most of her sister
Chronicles of
ships were lost at sea. Certainly the Arctic and Pacific
We remained in Eliot Street until I was twelve.
While there we had a militia company, comprising some
ten or twelve boys of the neighborhood. I remember
that we had red shoulder-straps and red stripes on our
trousers, and that I owned and rattled the drum, which
gave me a position and importance that I would not have
swapped for the captaincy.
There is a rumor that this gallant company, at a
street corner, suddenly encountered a drunken man, and
incontinently fled for home. I fancy that at such a
moment, the drum in which I took so much pride, must
have proved itself exceedingly inconvenient.
While living in Eliot Street, I went to a boys' and
girls' school on Burroughs Street, kept by three Misses
Adam and their mother. This, too, was your Aunt
Jeanie Boit Hunnewell's first school at the age of four
or five; and strangely enough she never went to any
other, continuing with these Misses Adam, who afterwards removed their school to Boston, until she was
The Misses Adam were well-known characters in their
day, and the fame of their private theatricals given
winter after winter, throughout my youth, spread far
beyond the limits of Boston and its vicinity. They
gathered in many excellent actors. Miss Hannah Adam
was the best Mrs. Malaprop I have ever seen.    Your
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Uncle Edward was a constant actor there — usually taking the lover's part — and he painted most of the scenery
that they used. Among the best actors were Mr. Henry
Lee, Mr. John Cabot, Mr. William S. Whitwell (a wonderful Bob Acres), Mr. Colman, the Misses Adam, Mrs.
Louis Agassiz, her sister, Miss Emily Russell (afterwards
Mrs. General Pierson), and I think Mrs. Quincy Shaw,
and others.    Mrs. Agassiz was exquisite!    I adored her!
I, myself, took part in these theatricals when I was
old enough, but not often.
When I was twelve, in 1858, my father bought a
house in Glen Road, just above Forest Hills Street, and
there we lived until the end of my Freshman year, 1865.
During my twelfth and thirteenth years I went to the
High School in Jamaica Plain, and then for the next
four years, and until I entered Harvard, to the school of
Mr. Epes S. Dixwell, in Boylston Place, Boston, just
about opposite the present Tavern Club. There I made
many of my life-long friendships.
In those days winter was the season I loved best, with
its skating and coasting. Yet summer by the sea with
its fishing and boating — surely I loved that just as well.
And then the spring, with its hockey, and cricket, and
baseball, and birdnesting, and the hopefulness of the rejuvenated world — that was delightful, too. And then
autumn, when one got back to the crowd of boys at
school, and the excitement of football — what was the
matter with that, I should like to know?    Oh, it was
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all good, and the heart and wind and muscles strong!
When I was fourteen, I felt very much interested in
an attractive young lady in Jamaica Plain, and on St.
Valentine's day I invested all my money in a handsomely
decorated round paper box of chocolate creams, and with
it sent my first real love poem, which began,
" Sweet Kitty, 't is dearly I love thee —
But I fear that my love is in vain,
For I feel that you look proudly on me,
Sweet speeches I see you disdain."
I think this deserves preservation. How could I forget
such burning lines as these ? Even thereafter I continued to preserve her friendship, and fifty years later
she told me she had kept the verses, because they were
the only ones ever written to her.
During the period from 1858 to 1865 in Glen Road
we led a most hospitable life. There was rarely a Sunday that the house was not full of young people, either
friends of Ned and Lizzie or friends of Jeanie and me.
My good father and mother seemed to love to have girls
and boys about, and on holidays we young people rarely
failed to ask our friends for a night or two, and in the
winters there was much skating and coasting in the daytime and singing and dancing at night. Those were perhaps the most delightful years of my youth.
While living: there I entered with much enthusiasm
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into all the country sports of boys, and our close friend
and neighbor, Mr. William R. Robeson gave me a horse
to ride, which for years was usually at my command. At
one time we boys had a lively cricket club, in which I
was the possessor of most of the implements of strife.
As we could find no one in our vicinity to play against,
we gave it up and started in its place a baseball club.
This we kept up for a number of years and played many
matches. The playground for both of these clubs was on
our own place, near the house, and I do not forget that
my family thought us a pretty noisy lot.
I remember when I was fourteen years old, my second
cousin, Billy Whitwell, and I rowed a race, across Jamaica
Pond and back, against two other Jamaica Plain boys.
We rowed a boat that belonged to Parkman, the historian,
who then lived on the shores of the pond. We did
bravely the first half, and led by many lengths, but in
the middle of the pond on our return, we got quarrelling
because one of us thought the other was rowing too hard,
or not hard enough—perhaps we were both worn out.
But we had it back and forth until our rivals passed us.
It was a great occasion. The shore was lined with people.
We were well and deservedly beaten. How my sister
Jeanie wept!
The last year I was at Dixwell's we started the
"Oneida" Football Club, which no boy of my time can
have forgotten. There were from twelve to sixteen
of  us selected from our Boston Schools, chiefly from
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Dixwell's, and all of the same crowd. The club was a
great success. We beat all we could find to play against
us in this vicinity. We challenged the Harvard Freshmen, and when they refused to play us, we attributed it to
fear. They intimated it was beneath them to play with
Of course football then was a different game from
that played today. We played with a round inflated
rubber ball. But we had our rules, and good ones. We
had our "rushers in" our "halfbacks" and our "fullbacks " and it was a grand and glorious fight. For many
years the great game in Boston was Dixwell's against the
Boston Latin School, and they were fierce encounters,
with varying success. At Dixwell's we also had military
drill for the last two years, for it was war times, and we
learned to sing many patriotic songs. Huntington Wol-
cott, one of the handsomest and best fellows that ever
lived was our captain. It inspired him to enter the
army where he became a martyr to the cause of his
country. He was the older brother of Roger Wolcott,
afterwards Governor of Massachusetts.
As I have said, in 1864 I entered Harvard College
without conditions, and the following year, in the autumn
^65 of 1865, we moved to 30 Marlborough Street, Boston.
During the first winter of my college life the Civil War
was at its height, and there were so few young men about
town, that we college Freshmen were taken into Boston
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I rowed on our Freshman crew, and also trained with
the "Varsity" in my junior or senior year, rowing at
five, alternately, day after day with another man. He
was a better man than I, and finally won his place on a
successful crew. After a few months I got tired of the
hard work with the uncertainty of its results, and concluded I could secure more amusement from other pursuits— and I did.
While in college, I belonged to the Institute and was
its Poet; the D. K. E., the Alpha-Delta-Phi, the A. D.
This club our own set of men started. It seemed that
the Alpha-Delta-Phi Fraternity became dissatisfied with
our Chapter because we would not live up to the rules.
They asked us to return our Charter and our records."
The Charter could not be found, but in our insolence
we tore a few pages from our records and returned them.
We then started the A. D. Club in its place. As a
matter of fact, before we left the Fraternity the " Alpha-
Delta-Phi" was always spoken of as the "A. D." I
also belonged to the Porcellian Club and the Hasty Pudding of which latter 1 was made Chorister and Poet;
though if my memory serves me, some foolish trouble
arose and I never read my poem. How good it was can
be judged from the few following lines of several hundred.
The story told of a young man, who led a rather dissipated life in college. Finally, one night, he became
engaged to a young woman from the Port, who did not
have a very savory reputation.    His chum, when told,
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gave him much advice and finally ended with the lines :
" With those blue eyes and long curls oft before
Has Hopkins vanquished students by the score!
And when deserted by each faithless swain,
She weeps an hour — then sets the curls again!
Let Bacchus Cupid save — seek your warm bunk,
And write "Excuse me, Hopkins — I was drunk"—
After much reflection the sorry youth concludes his
chum has given him a good pointer, and in the still
watches of the night he writes to his lady-love as follows.
1 My dear Miss Hopkins, I can scarcely write
From mingled sentiments of shame and fright,
At what I may have said to you last night.
'Tis strange, when fumes of wine my reason reach,
They don't affect my gait, nor yet my speech,
But of the words my tongue just then may say,
I can't recall a syllable next day!
But friends ttllme — who sometimes chance to hear —
They 're quite unfit for any lady's ear!
That I speak falsehoods o'er and o'er again,
And swear, and rave, and rant —- like one insane!
Now dear Miss Hopkins, still remain my friend —
Forgive this once, and I '11 no more offend —
And to your kind regard — my friend for life —
Some future day — I '11 introduce my wife —
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But let last night in Lethe's waves be sunk,
For, dear Miss Hopkins, / was very drunk ! "
One recognizes the fact that his was not an altogether
admirable character.
When we graduated I was made Odist of the class.
It may or may not be of interest to anybody and therefore I will insert here the Ode I wrote for the occasion.
June 19, 1868
Fair Harvard, today pleasure speeds the gay hours;
Beauty's eyes, like the sunbeams are bright,
And the music of birds, and the fragrance of flowers,
Fill the emerald earth with delight;
But soon this fair scene, like a vision departs,
Long to linger on Memory's shore,
While thy children, tonight, leave with sorrowing hearts,
These dear haunts that shall know them no more!
In a few fleeting moments thy time-honored towers
Shall tearfully fade from our view,
And the labor and sport of this old world of ours
Shall give place to the work of the new;
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But the wisdom we've learned, and the friendships we've
Shall go with us where'er we may be,
And led by the one, by the other sustained,
Thy sons shall do honor to thee!
As the brave Spartan vowed 'ere he mingled in fight,
To conquer, but never to yield,
To exult as a victor for freedom and right,
Or in death be borne back on his shield, —
May thy children, tomorrow, go forth to the strife,
Bearing " Truth " for their motto on high,
'Neath her banner, like heroes to triumph in life,
Or, if vanquished, like heroes to die!
1868 I graduated from Harvard in 1868, without college
honors. I emphasize the word college, for let me hope
my life there in other respects had not been altogether
without honor, notwithstanding the episode of my suspension in my Freshman year, of which I spoke in the
life of my father. I had certainly had the honor of singing for a year in the Freshman Glee Club, and then for
three years in the Varsity Glee Club, which seems to
have held a more important place in college than it does
today.    I got no end of pleasure out of this.
But the pleasantest experience I had in college was
that of our Club Table of fourteen men.    Twelve of us
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came together the second term of our Freshman year,
and we added two more to our number in our Sophomore
year. These fourteen remained together throughout our
college course and all became friends for life. Death
spared us for nearly forty years after graduation.
Thirty-five years after we left college the inspiration
seized me to get all the old Club Table together again
for a dinner at the Somerset Club. All were alive and it
happened at that moment that all were in America. Our
dinner took place on the night of February 12, 1903.
Every man was there. They came from St. Louis, Pennsylvania, New York and Massachusetts. We sat in the
same position as at our college table. The men at the
head and foot carved one course for all of us in memory
of the good old times. I still owned a photograph of us
taken when we graduated. This I had copied so that
each might have one. After dinner a flashlight photographer took us in the same positions in which we had
been seated for the old photograph taken thirty-five
years before.
You are no doubt familiar with these two curious
photographs of boys and old men. I doubt if such a
large and perfect reunion, after such a gulf of years, ever
took place before. We had a glorious time. Never
before had we been all together since we left college.
Our feast was of a higher order than in our college
days — but did it taste as well ? Not to one of us. Did
we sing the old songs as well ?   I believe we cared more
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for them, even if our voices were less melodious. It was
a night of pleasant visions. These were the men:
Dawes E. Furness of Philadelphia; Edgar Huidekoper of
Meadville, Pennsylvania; Doctor Frederick C. Shattuck
of Boston; Doctor Francis P. Kinnicutt of New York;
Professor James Barr Ames of Cambridge; Charles T.
Lovering of Boston; Augustus G. Bullock of Worcester;
Arthur Hunnewell of Boston; Robert A. Boit of Boston;
Leverett S. Tuckerman of Salem ; Horace Bacon of New
York; Malcolm S. Greenough of Cleveland, Ohio; Moses
Williams of Boston, and Dexter Tiffany of St. Louis.
As I said on that great occasion, none of us had been
in jail, however much we might have deserved it; and
all of us had been sufficiently successful in life to own
the dress suits we wore!
Today, May, 1915, fifteen years after our dinner, six
are dead.
In the autumn of 1868, the year I graduated, I went
with my father and mother to Savannah, Georgia, and
1875 lived there in business till 1875. During this period I
passed my summers chiefly in Newport, Rhode Island,
with visits to my friends in Mount Desert, Nahant,
Cotuit, and other places.
While in college I had rowed, more or less, as I have
said. In Savannah I joined the Couper Boat Club, and
trained three successful four-oared crews, the last winning at the annual regatta on the Schulkill in Philadelphia.
During my stay in Savannah I went into society — a
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delightful society it was — and made many life-long
friends. Although it was so soon after the Civil War, I
was treated with great consideration and. kindness, and
in many houses became as intimate as if I had been born
a Southerner. I never met a more charming, kindly,
hospitable people. Whenever I think of them my heart
is filled with gratitude and affection for some of the
pleasantest years of my life.
January 15, 1874, in the beautiful old Presbyterian 1874
Church in Savannah, I married Georgia Anderson
Mercer, daughter of General Hugh Weedon Mercer of
Virginia and Mary (Anderson) Mercer of Savannah.
General Mercer was a class-mate at West Point and an
intimate friend of General Robert E. Lee, commander-
in-chief of the Southern forces during the Civil War. I
had the privilege of meeting this great man a number of
times at General Mercer's. He was a most dignified and
distinguished-looking old gentleman. Just what one
would have expected him to be. I also had the pleasure
of knowing General Joseph E. Johnston. I met him
often at the club and at his own house. He lived in
Savannah and was loved and respected by everyone.
His influence against it did much towards putting a stop
to duelling in Savannah.
In 1875 my father's firm failed.    I had recently been   1875
taken into the firm as a junior partner on a salary.    Of
course, this was a great blow to me, falling as it did, so
soon after my marriage.    As I have before said we owed
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little or nothing in Savannah, our chief debt being to
Messrs. Baring Bros. & Co. of London.
In 1876 my wife and I went to New York, where I
started in the real estate business, taking desk room in
the show-room of a gas fixture and chandelier shop on
Broadway near Twenty-second Street. It was uphill
work, but in the summer of 1877, just as I was beginning to see my way in real estate, I was offered the position of cashier in the New York office of the Commercial
Union Assurance Company of London, at a salary of
$1,000 per annum, and I accepted it. Mr. Alfred Pell
of New York, the Manager of the company, gave me the
position, and we afterwards became very close friends.
Georgia and I passed the summer of 1876 at Tarry-
town, on the Hudson, and most of the following winter
in New York. The following summer I cannot remember, but towards the middle of August we moved again
to New York and there in a boarding-house on the north
side of Thirty-fourth Street, just east of Fourth Avenue,
1877 September 2, 1877, our first child, Mary, was born. My
mother and father then asked Georgia and the baby to
pass the winter with them in Newport. This they did,
and it turned out well, for they all became devoted to
one another.
Meanwhile I remained in New York, living in a hall
bedroom of a boarding-house on West Thirty-sixth Street,
at $9.00 per week. Off and on I went to the family for
a Sunday or holiday.
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These were perhaps the hardest years in my life so far
as the means of living went. It was hard, too, living in
New York, where I knew so many nice people, and at the
same time felt forced to cut myself off from them entirely
owing to my poverty.
Then it was that Franklin Bartlett, the lawyer, and
his wife, Bertha Post, proved the strength of their friendship. Their house was nearby, and always open to me
at any time, day or night. If I had been rolling in
money they could not have been more constantly attentive to me. Theirs was practically the only house of
my old friends I ever went to. They themselves were
at that time very fashionable people in New York.
Frank was a Governor of the Union Club, an officer of one
of the crack regiments, of which later he became Colonel,
a most successful lawyer, and an acknowledged leader
in New York society. His wife's social position was of
the best. They were my good angels in those hard
times. Their never-ending devotion and hospitality made
my heart sing. There is nothing I would not have done
for them.
When I had been with the Commercial Union less
than a year, in the summer of 1878, I was promoted by
Mr. Pell to represent the company as its agent in Boston.
In September of that year I moved into the block of
houses on Hawes Street, Brookline, near Colchester
Street. Here on the 26th of November, 1878, our
second daughter, Georgia Mercer, was born.    On the 6th
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of December, my wife, Georgia Mercer died. And so it
was, that my noble and devoted young wife, lived only
long enough to comfort, and inspire me through the
hardest struggles, and darkest hours of my business life,
and then died just as the day was breaking. My mother
was with her at the time.
I continued. to live alone with my little children in
Hawes Street for the next eight years, going to various
places in the summer. At this time I wrote " Eustis,"
my one novel, and devoted much time to the study of
singing. I remember that for several years I took singing lessons at eight in the morning, so that it might not
interfere with my business, nor with the freedom of my
evenings, which I always jealously guarded.
On the 20th of May, 1886, I married Lilian Willis,
daughter of Nathaniel P. Willis and Cornelia Grinnell.
We had known one another well just after I graduated
from college, but, until a few months before we were
married, we had not met for sixteen years. We were
married in the Joseph Grinnell house on County Street,
New Bedford, and in front of the mirror before which
Lilian's mother and father had been married, and before
which, in my own house, No. 19 Colchester Street,
Longwood, my daughter Alice received, when she was
married to William A. Burnham, Jr., December 5, 1914.
Thus, three generations of Grinnell descent have stood
before this mirror on their wedding days.
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On May 2, 1887, Alice was born in the Hawes Street   1887
On November 20, 1889, John Edward was born in the
same house.
On December 7, 1892, we moved into our new house,
No. 19 Colchester Street, Longwood. I bought this
house in the preceding spring and we altered it over that
summer and autumn while the family were living in Tops-
field.    We have lived in this house ever since.
No less than five architects have made changes in this
house for me, to wit: Hunnewell and Shaw, Arthur
Dodd, Thomas A. Fox, R. Clipston Sturgis, and Peabody
and Stearns.    The result is not without attraction.
I must mention the quaint story of the marble statue
and the marble bust in our drawing-room. The bust is
of Nathaniel P. Willis, the Poet, when about twenty-six
or -eight years old. The statue is of Cornelia Grinnell,
at the age of six or eight.
In 1832 or 1833 Nathaniel P. Willis, a young man, had
his bust made in Florence, Italy, by Horatio Greenough.
The same year, Joseph Grinnell of New Bedford, went to
Florence with his little daughter, Cornelia, and had
Greenough make a statue of her. At this time Willis
did not know the Grinnells.
After Cornelia had grown up, she met Willis, and
married him. She was twenty years younger than
Willis. Years afterward, Horatio Greenough came to
this country, and when dining with Joseph Grinnell in
Chronicles of
New Bedford, said he had always felt interested in the
marriage of his daughter, Cornelia, to N. P. Willis,
because their two statues had been made from the
same block of marble.
Long ago both N. P. Willis and his wife passed away,
but the two pieces of that block of marble, one of a little
girl, and the other of a handsome young man, are still
faithfully keeping each other company in my drawing-
1902       In the summer of 1902, I bought some land in Isles-
boro, Maine, and built there the following year.
1904       In June, 1904, we moved into our new house in Isles-
boro, and there, since then, we have passed most of our
I have tried, as little as possible, to go into the details
of my own life, yet it occurs to me that, in years to
come, my children and grandchildren may wish to know
something of my interests and activities, so I will add a
brief summary of them, hoping that my doing so will not
be misinterpreted.
In Newport, I was for many years a stockholder and
member of the Newport Reading Room. All the best
men of both the summer and winter colonies of Newport
belonged to it, at least temporarily. One also met there
such officers of the army and navy as were quartered
from time to time at Fort Adams or the Torpedo Station
or Naval Training:  Station.
It was a most agreeable
loafing place.
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The " genial bowl" flowed more freely here than in
any Club I ever belonged to; but its chief frequenters
were men who had nothing to do in summer but to
amuse themselves. Besides which, as men gathered
there from all parts of the country, an exchange of
drinks was the simplest and most cordial form for the
making of new, or the renewal of old relations.
In Savannah, I was one of the Charter members of
the Oglethorpe Club. I believe only three or four of
the original members are still living, but the club is as
successful and important as ever. It was and is today
on the second floor of a large building at the corner of
Bull and Broad Streets. The first floor of the building
is very high-studded. A long, narrow, steep flight of
stairs runs from the street entrance to the club rooms.
After a grand military day, Dwight Roberts, an officer
of the crack Cavalry, rode a splendid horse of his up
this flight into the club rooms. They had to use a fall
and tackle to get him down again. Such things happened in Savannah. If they were a wild lot, they were
again the most delightful and free-handed companions I
have ever known. Full of fun and full of fight, but the
staunchest of friends!
In New York I have been a member of one or two
small clubs, and still belong to the Harvard Club.
In Cambridge I am a graduate member of the Porcel-
lian, the Pudding, the Fly, the A. D., the D. K. E., and
the Institute, and a life member of the Harvard Union.
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Chronicles of
In Boston, I was one of the early members of the
Longwood Cricket Club; one of the first members of the
Boston Athletic Association; one of the first members
of the Tennis and Racquet Club; one of the first members of the Exchange Club and on its finance committee ; and one of the early members of the City Club.
I am today a. member of Boston Athletic Association;
the University Club; the Harvard Club; the Somerset
Club; the St. Botolph Club, of which I was President
for four years, after holding practically every other office
in the Club; the Central Lunch Club; the Papyrus Club,
of which I was Secretary and President. This is the
semi-Bohemian literary club of Boston and has held, as
members, most of the literary lights of Boston for the
last fifty years. I am also a member of the Franklin
Club, another small literary dinner-club; the Harvard
Musical Association; the Commercial Club, the leading
business dinner-club of Boston; the Metropolitan Improvement League, of which I was the first President
and continued to be its President for a number of years;
the Chamber of Commerce; the Boston Board of Fire
Underwriters of which I was one of the original seven
members and its President; the Boston Protective Department, of which I was a Director for several years; the
Boston Associated Board of Trade, of which I was President, and also for many years a member of the Executive
Committee. This Board was finally merged in the Chamber of  Commerce,  but  prior to  that  was   the   most
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important and influential trade organization of Boston.
The Presidency of this was my highest civic honor.
I am also a Director of the Chicopee Manufacturing
Company; of the Old Boston National Bank; of the New
England Casualty Company; of the Commercial Union
Fire Insurance Company of New York; a trustee of the
Cushing Real Estate Trust, and several other trusts;
for many years a Director and Trustee of the Boston
Dispensary, and for eight years its President; a Director
of the Brookline Friendly Society; a member of the
Bostonian Society; the Historical and Genealogical
Society, and the Artists' Guild.
I have always felt it a man's duty to give a certain
portion of his life and time to the interests of the community in which he lived, and from which he derived his
means of livelihood.
From sixty to sixty-five I retired from practically all
work outside of my business, finding at that age my
business alone required the time and attention I could
give it. When I began business in Boston, in 1878,
there were four on my pay-roll; today there are between
fifty and sixty.
From boyhood I was fond of singing, and from twelve
to fourteen was taught to sing second in the high school
in Jamaica Plain. At Dixwell's school we had a small
singing club — at least there were half a dozen or more,
who were constantly singing together with such parts as
we could master.    In college, as I have said, I was a
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Chronicles of
member of the Glee Club, and when I went to Savannah,
I joined a choral society which was a very admirable
musical association. In Savannah, too, I was for many
years a member of the quartette choir of Christ Church.
The soprano was a Mrs. Cleveland, who sang church
music more superbly than any woman I have ever heard.
A grand, great voice of most touching timbre! In this
choir I sang tenor. I never was a tenor. In Savannah,
too, I sang for a while, in the beautiful old Independent
Presbyterian Church.
During my widowerhood, while living in Longwood,
I sang for several years in the quartette choir of
the Unitarian Church on Walnut Street, Brookline.
Hyram G. Tucker was the organist. In this choir I
sang bass. I was never a bass. My voice was baritone.
At this same time I belonged to several male quartettes
and choral societies. I studied singing under various
good masters, and loved it. I gave up singing when I
was about forty-five.
I had always been able to draw more or less well from
the time I was a boy, and until I was thirty I often
sketched in water colors, but without much success. At
one time, in youth, I thought a little of trying to become
a painter, and I took my water-colors to La Farge to
criticise. I remember his words : "I can only say you
are evidently fond of trying to paint. You may come
to work in my studio if you wish to." At the time I
thought this most discouraging, probably expecting him
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to say I was an incipient Rubens. Now it appears to
me to have been a very kind and hopeful view to have
taken of my amateurish work. I own today examples
of what I showed him, and am surprised to think of his
gentleness and forbearance!
After a long lapse of years, when I was sixty-three, I
took up oil painting. However mediocre may be my
work, I have derived an immense amount of enjoyment
from it, and many hours of absolute peace and forget-
fulness of the outside world.
I have contributed from time to time to the daily
press, but chiefly on insurance questions. I have never
taken an active part in politics, though I have done fully
my share of talking about them.    I have always voted.
I have written many verses, indifferently well, for
the various clubs I have belonged to, and for family
When I re-read what I have written of the great
diversity of interests in my life, I am not surprised that
I never distinguished myself, but I am surprised that I
should have been sufficiently successful in business to
bring up my family in comfort, if not in luxury.
When I was growing up, I passed most of my summers in Nahant or Cotuit. I remember our family
boarded at Nahant for two years, at Johnson's, where
the Postoffice now stands. One of these summers the
Inches cousins were also there or in the next house, and
Robert S. Sturgis was paying court to Susan Inches,
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and driving her about in a high dog-cart that commanded
my boyish admiration. For two summers we had the
house just above Pea-Island and the Cave, now owned
by the Bradlee family, but at that time belonging to my
uncle, Charles Inches. Opposite us were the Rices and
Guilds and Grants. Another summer I passed there
with Aunt Charlotte Hubbard, who was living in the
Curtis house on the site of which, I think today, stands
Frank Merriam's house. My Grandfather Hubbard's
house on this same street had been sold many years
before, and was owned in my youth by a Mr. Green of
New York, whose wife was a Miss Coolidge of Boston.
After I was nineteen or twenty, and until I was twenty-
seven, I passed my summers in Newport, Rhode Island.
There I went into society, and became acquainted with
people from all over the country, but especially from New
York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. Among them I made
many friends. When hard times struck me I lost most
of these good people from my visiting list.
I loved Newport with its wonderful boating and bathing and dinners and dances and hosts of pretty girls. It
was a varied and delightful society with perhaps less vulgar ostentation and extravagance than in later years, but
still with more style and lavishness of expenditure than
one saw at that period in Boston. A number of Boston
families passed their summers there, and among them
were the Robert and Tom Cushing families, the Whit-
wells, Miss Deacon, the Sigourneys, the Robert Sturgis
 The Boit Family
family, the Hollis Hunnewells, the Brewers, the Princes,
the Robert Masons, the Andrew Robesons, and Mrs.
Julia Ward Howe's family at the bead of their attractive
Glen in the country nearby.
Then my brother Ned and sister Isa lived there, at the
place they had built just beyond Bailey's Beach — " The
Rocks " — back of the Spouting Horn. At that time
Mrs. Paran Stevens was in her prime, with her sister
Fanny of the lovely voice. There, too, from New
York, were the Rutherfords, Kings, Traverses — that
most delightful of families — the Parrishes, Lorillards,
Keteltases, Lawrences, Belmonts, Whitings, Potters,
Bonapartes (I heard Christine Nielson sing at their
house), the Samuel G. Wards, the Barclays, the Van
Rensselaers, and many others. From Philadelphia and
Baltimore, the Tiffanys, Powells, Ashursts, Fishers,
Willings, and other delightful people. It was before the
coming of the Vanderbilts and Astors to Newport.
It was a wonderful place for idle young men! These
were the years from 1865 to 1874, just prior to my
first marriage. During this period I either boarded in
Newport, or stayed with Ned and Isa, or Robert and
Susie Sturgis, or lived with my father and mother, who
for one or two summers hired a house there. I could
write chapters of gossip of Newport and its people as I
knew them in my youth!
I have been to Europe five times : first, as a boy with
my mother in 1856; second for three or four months in
 Chronicles of
1889 with Ned, when I went with my sister Isa to the
Bayreuth Festival; third, for a month or more with Ned,
in 1890, after the death of my father and mother; fourth,
for three or four months in 1898, to see Mary and
Georgia, in Dresden, where they were studying. At
that time I took them to Nuremberg, and Munich, and
Innsbruck and thence to Venice and back. Fifth, for
1910 the summer of 1910, when I took my wife, Lilian, and
daughter Alice, and maid to Paris, (motoring from
Cherbourg), and thence to Florence, near which city we
stayed with my brother Ned for six weeks at his lovely
Villa I Cernitoio," in the mountains above Pelago, near
Vallombrosa. Thence, we came home through Germany,
Holland, Belgium, and England.
It was at "Cernitoio " that I first tried my hand at oil
painting. That morning Ned and I went out together
to paint. He had put such colors on my palette as he
thought necessary. We selected positions about a hundred yards apart overlooking those beautiful valleys of
the Arno. After a couple of hours he came to me and
looked at what I had done. After a little he said " Bob,
I won't say that what you have done is good, but I do
say its the most remarkable thing I ever saw — for you
can paint! " And again " I never saw any man do such
a thing before ! "
Of course he meant exactly what he said and no more
— that without ever having used oils, and without trying
to paint at all for thirty years or more, I had a certain
 The Boit Family
knowledge of painting which usually comes only with
study and practice. But I had always loved painting,
and been thrown much with artists, and watched them
paint, even if never painting myself. That and a love of
nature had been study, even if not realized by me.
It was during this stay at " Cernitoio," that, on the
ioth of July, 1910, I had a quite unusual adventure.
That morning, my brother Ned took Lilian and me,
and my niece, Jeanie Patten, in his motor to San
Gimignano, where we lunched and did a little sightseeing.
No sojourner in Florence should miss seeing this picturesque town with its wonderful old towers. In the
afternoon we motored from there to Florence for tea,
and thence twenty miles home in the cool of a beautiful
When we entered Ned's avenue, high up on the mountainside, and about three-quarters of a mile from his
house, we were suddenly stopped by a barricade of stones
thrown across the road. At the same moment we were
covered by the pistol, and double-barrelled shot-gun of
two brigands. It was a lonely spot, and as we were unarmed there was nothing for us to do, but, after many
minutes of parleying, to hand over our money, which
amounted in all to some sixty dollars.
Lilian and Jeanie behaved with great presence of mind,
and Lilian managed to take off her gl°ve> conceal her
diamond engagement ring, and pull on her glove again
without its being  noticed.    So  that when the  ladies'
Chronicles of
jewelry was demanded they had nothing on them but
Lilian's plain gold wedding ring. This they did not
take. In fact they did not lay hands on, or personally
touch any of us.
Then, not satisfied with their booty, they ordered me
(no doubt mistaking me for Ned) to stay with them as
hostage, and the rest of the party to go on to the Villa,
and bring them 10,000-lire-worth in money or valuables.
At Ned's request he was allowed to remain with me.
They treated us decently while with them, and permitted us two old men to sit quietly by the roadside.
When the motor returned, with the chauffeur and
Jeanie Patten, after an absence of about half an
hour, the brigands were evidently in great haste
to be off, for they seized the roll of money, without
counting it, stuffed it into their pockets and disappeared
hurriedly into the woods. Jeanie had brought them all
she could find in the house, but it only amounted to
about a hundred dollars, so that we got off very easily so
far as money was concerned.
The moment the robbers disappeared a throng of Ned's
retainers came rushing up the road armed with every
conceivable weapon—some twenty or thirty of them
with pistols, and rifles, and shotguns, and butcher knives,
and stilettos, and carving-knives, and pitchforks. They
were a motley and wildly excited crew!
They were so close upon the heels of the brigands, that
Ned would not permit them to follow, but stopped them
 The Boit Family
in their tracks. He knew there would be a fight and
was quite unwilling to have any of his men hurt, so long
as we, ourselves, were safe. It was a quick decision but
made with Ned's usual wisdom.
His forester caught a third member of this gang in
the woods that evening, imprisoned him for the night in
one of the farm buildings, and turned him over to the
authorities the next morning. He died in prison, in
Florence, within a year. The other two robbers were
supposed to have been killed by the police a few months
later, while making a similar attack somewhere between
Florence and Rome.
This affair created great excitement throughout the
whole of Northern Italy. It was said such a thing had
not happened in Tuscany for a hundred years. The
papers were full of it. The government in Rome quadrupled the force of mounted police, or Carabinieri, in the
environs of Florence. One evening eighteen Carabinieri
appeared at " Cernitoio," and passed half of the night in
our out-buildings, scouring the mountains above us
before morning. The government offered a large reward
for the apprehension of the robbers.
After gazing into the muzzle of a double-barrelled
shot-gun for twenty minutes or more, I am satisfied it is
a very persuasive weapon for the extraction of money!
I believe I have nothing more to write of myself. I
have not intended this as an autobiography, but have
Chronicles of
tried to write of myself impersonally.    No doubt there
are lapses here and there.
For the fortieth anniversary of my class after graduation, as Class Odist, I wrote some verses. They were
read at our dinner at the University Club in Boston, in
1908 June, 1908. When I had written them I found by a
strange coincidence there were exactly the number of
lines  that  there were  classmates who  had  graduated
1868   with me in 1868.    These are the verses:
1908 June 23, 1908
Comrades of old! Is it a day or year
Since last we met ?
Youth is but yesterday — life but a smile — a tear,
And even yet
The shouts that echo from our joyous band
Strike sharp and free,
As shoulder to shoulder, hand tight clasped in hand,
We circle round the tree!
Hark to the songs we sing!    Hear the wild cries
As, tussling for the flowers,
We seek at least one bud to win — a prize
For some sweetheart of ours!
 The Boit Family
And then we parted—boyhoods' banners furled
Each hugging to his breast
Faith in himself — his strength to win the world —
And at its best.
Keen for a single-handed fall with fate,
In boyish pride
We parted — girding up our loins and plunging straight
Into the surging tide!
Some have achieved, some ridden to a fall,
Some more, some less, been blessed;
But we have fought like men, tho' one and all,
God knows, have been hard pressed.
Who shall stand first ?    He who in springtime sows
The up-turned field,
Or he who gathers from the autumn rows
Their golden yield ?
Who shall stand first ?    He who may claim of memory
An unstained past,
Or he who, wrestling with the tempter hip and thigh
Is thrown at last ?
Yes!    Who stands first, where all their best have done ?
Not wealth, nor glory,
Nor fame for this world's battles won
Shall tell the story.
Chronicles of
I 11
. ' ■' ] ■' (
Hark!  This man gained the battles of the Soul,
Unseen, unknown,
By day, by night, still fighting for the goal,
In silence and alone !
Crushed through dark hours of agony and wrath,
Yet daylight found him,
Strong and courageous still to cheer the path
Of those around him.
He shall stand first!    Up!    Answer to the call!
We hear the cry
In answer from the fire-purged Souls of all —
" It is not I."
And yet about us here, on every side,
If we but knew,
Gems of self-immolated lives abide
In hearts steadfast and true.
Into each other's souls, if we might see,
Ere now we part,
How tight at leash would strain our sympathy
As heart sought heart!
 The Boit Family
Those, who, o'er-burdened, left us on the way,
We greet tonight,
As they shall greet us with the coming day,
When all is light.
Whether of fable or of truth the hope be born,
That hope beats in us still;
In spite of reasons, scoff, or cynic scorn,
Hope on we will,
When each of us through that dark night's despair
Has passed — and hesitating stands —
Comrades of old shall greet us there — somewhere —
With out-stretched hands!
Rise, brothers, rise!    With voices strong and clear,
As once you sung,
Sing us again the songs we held so dear
When we were young!
Those brave old songs of love and hope and youth,
Of mighty deeds and men.
Of constancy, eternity and truth —
Sing! sing them all again !
Then shall we turn to our allotted parts,
Companioned — or alone,
With youth's glad chorus ringing in our hearts
As we trudge on!
Daughter of Edward Darley Boit and
Jane Parkinson Hubbard
Chapter XI
ANE HUBBARD BOIT was born at "Ingleside,"
October 5, 1849.    She was brought up in Jamaica
Plain, and  Boston, and  took  several journeyings
abroad.    We have been sympathetic companions from
I remember perfectly the morning after she was born.
I was four and a half. I was taken into my mother's
room to see her. The sun was pouring into the room
between the gauze curtains. My mother was lying in a
high four-poster. I had to be lifted up from the floor to
see her. She smiled but looked white and thin. Then
I was shown a tiny Uttle red face beside her. I was told
it was my little sister. I felt interested, but it did n't
seem to me as dear as they said it was. Mammie Thompson, or Katie, her daughter, told me an angel had brought
it down in the night, and presented it to mama. It was
made very mysterious and I was duly impressed. That
was my first sight of the being who was my sister, and
was to become my life-long friend.
When she was a very young girl, an intimate friend of
 The Boit Family
mine, who was much in love with her, sent her these
verses with a bunch of heliotrope:
I send a bunch of heliotrope
With thoughts no written words can name,
It tells of fear, and doubt, and hope,
And speaks these three words, " Je vous aime."
Such words do raptured lovers say
To those who their hearts' homage claim,
When in some bower at fall of day
They gently whisper " Je vous aime."
And with such words, one day may I
Tell unto you my heart-felt flame,
And may the breezes passing by,
Bring answer — "Moi aussi — Je t'aime."
They are very lovely, but made no impression on the
heart of my dear sister. He himself got over it in time
to marry twice.
She married Arthur Hunnewell of Wellesley and Boston, son of Horatio Hollis Hunnewell and Isabella
(Welles) Hunnewell.
They had the following children: Isabella, born May
7, 1871, married October 8, 1907, James Searle Barclay   l87i
of New York; Jane Boit, born May 9, 1872, unmarried;    l872
Julia Overing,   born  November  19,  1873, unmarried;   1873
 Chronicles of
1878 Margaret, born May 21, 1878, married June 30, 1902,
George Baty Blake of Boston and Lenox.
Margaret and George B. Blake have two children:
1904   Margaret Hunnewell Blake, born August 1, 1904 ; Julia
1907   Overing Blake, born March 8, 1907.
Jane Boit Hunnewell and Arthur Hunnewell also
brought up from infancy, William S. Patten, the son of
Joseph H. Patten and Elizabeth Greene (Boit) Patten,
both of whom died within a few years of his birth.
1845       Arthur Hunnewell was born December 1, 1845 ; mar-
1^1° ried June 1, 1870; died October 17, 1904. He was a
classmate of mine at Harvard, and, as I have said, became
my brother-in-law. At fifty-nine, when he died, he was
in the prime of life. I never knew a finer man. He
was very powerful and a great athlete in his youth. He
was the pitcher of our Varsity nine and much admired
by his classmates. Later he became a crack lawn tennis
and court tennis player. In fact, he and his brothers,
and a few others, built the first tennis court in or about
Boston, where Thomas Petit grew up; the man who
finally became the champion court tennis player of the
Arthur Hunnewell was a splendidly " set-up" man
and always dressed with great taste and care. He was
strong and fearless and almost fierce-looking, but with
the kindest of hearts and gentlest of natures — admired
and feared by those who did not know him; admired
and loved by those who did.    He was full of fun, keen
 The Boit Family
of wit, a persistent tease, and a great " sizer-up " of men.
His judgment was always good, and his common sense
unfailing. He rarely showed his sympathy and feeling
in words, but in acts.
He was a brave, honorable, noble gentleman, if there
ever was one, and a most loyal and generous friend.
Life has not seemed the same to me since his death.
After his death Tarbell painted a portrait of him.
John S. Sargent painted a portrait of his wife, Jane
Boit Hunnewell. It is a fine portrait, but failed to do
entire justice to the great beauty of her face.
Jane Boit Hunnewell (4) and her daughter Jane, both
showed a strong artistic taste in some of their pottery
Son of Edward Darley Boit and
Jane Parkinson Hubbard
Chapter XII
JOHN BOIT (4) was born in Eliot Street, Jamaica
Plain. He attended various schools in Boston and
Savannah, and also went to St. Mark's and Exeter.
He received his LL. D. from the Harvard Law School
and was admitted to the Massachusetts Bar. He studied
architecture in New York for several years and built the
New York Yacht Clubhouse in Newport. Thereafter
he studied painting under John LaFarge, and again in
Julien's Studio in Paris. On the 7th of September,
1904, he married Louise Horstmann of Washington,
District of Columbia. They were married at Lalehafn,
on the River Thames, in England. They live in Washington, District of Columbia, and have a country place at
South Natick, Massachusetts, on the Charles River.
They have one son, John Boit (5), born September 1,
1910, in Colchester Street, Brookline, in my brother
Ned's house, next to mine, which they were occupying
that summer.
 The Boit Family
I have used so many family verses to this story, I
shall also add the following by your Uncle John Boit (4).
1879 l879
Heigho!   Heigho!   Why does the farmer's daughter go
Through the wood so early ?
The farmer's daughter is fair to see ;
She is so pale and slender and tall;
She looketh more like a fair ladie,
Than a simple farmer's daughter.
A comely lad is the Squire's son,
With his curly hair, and his coal black eyes;
And every morning he shoulders his gun,
And goes to the wood a hunting.
Tonight there's feasting up at the Hall,
For the Squire's son hath taken a wife;
She is both pale and slender and tall,
But never a farmer's daughter.
There's weeping down at the Farm tonight
For the farmer's daughter lies dead in the house,
And on her bosom so cold and white
A little babe is sleeping.
Heigho ! Heigho! The farmer's daughter no more shall go
Through the wood so early.
Chronicles of
I fl
When spring comes, the children go
Laughing through the fields and woods,
Seeking glades where violets grow,
Slopes where sweet arbutus twines,
Rocks where fragile columbines
Nod their scarlet hoods.
When the Spring comes, hand in hand,
Youth and maiden, lover-wise,
Dreaming roam through fairy-land.
Tearful yesterday has vanished
Stern to-morrow has been banished
From Love's Paradise.
When the Spring comes—lo — sh
Mid gay flowers and merry birds,
Memories of other springs.
Eyes, long dim, our own eyes seek;
Lips, long silent, smile and speak
Old familiar words.
 The Boit Family
Gaily in through the casement peeps the dawn;
Gaily the bird in the coppice greets the morn: —
Love starts from its troubled slumber—wakes and sighs.
Calmly the moon is shining o'er the world at rest;
The bird is quietly sleeping on her nest: —
Love turns on its feverish pillow with open eyes.
Your Uncle John certainly was gifted with as much
power in verse as the rest of the Boit family, and perhaps with more imagination, and a subtler touch than
any of them. He has also done some excellent work in
With this last member of our family of my generation
these chronicles of the Boit family must end.
I know well how few people take an active interest in
their forbears. Yet here and there is one, who goes
hunting in the records of the past with a keen scent for
what he may unearth of the lives of his people.
I, myself, am one of these, and in my own researches,
often have lamented, that none of my forefathers had
left a printed record of those they knew in life, or of
those who had preceded them.
I therefore think I have a right to hope, if my race
does not become extinct, that the work I have done may
Chronicles of
prove of value to some descendant in quest of family
records. I also hope that my children, for whom it has
been chiefly written, and my other kindred of today, may
gather from it pleasant and welcome thoughts of some
of their own people, who have lived their simple lives,
have done their duty by their fellowmen, as they have
seen it, and have passed on without making a deep or
lasting impression on the history of their times, or of
their country.
 Chapter  XIII
  The Boit Family
In Boston, U. S. A.
B. 1733; D. Dec. 31, 1798
in Boston
Buried King's Chapel
M. (first) June, 1762
D. 1767
M. (second) Aug. 3, 1769
D. 1794
By Hannah Atkins By Sarah Brown
Hannah Boit (2)
B. 1765
M. Sept. 27, 1789
Crowell Hatch
of Boston
B. 1733
D. 1814
Many descendants
but none in or
about Boston
Henry Boit (2)
B. July 1763
Married and died in
Barcelona, Spain
leaving children
John Boit (2)
B. 1767
Said to have died
in infancy
Sarah Boit (2)
B. 1770
M. 1790
John Duballet
French gentleman
Lived and died in
Bordeaux, France
Presumably no children
Rebecca Boit (2)
B. 1772
D. 1793
Buried King's Chapel
John Boit (2)
B. Oct. 15, 1774
D. Mar. 8, 1829
M. Aug. 20, 1799, in
Trinity Church, Newport, R. I.
Eleanor (Auchmuty) Jones
of Newport.    D. 1831
Both buried King's Chapel
'1 I ■■ i
Descendants of
B. Oct. 15, 1774
D. Mar. 8, 1829
20, 1799, m
Trinity Church, Newport, R. I.
of Newport
Both buried King's Chapel, Boston
I Their children iv
Mary Boit (3)
Bapt. June 13, 1779
D. June, 1833
Lived last part of her life in
Weymouth, Mass.
and died there
Ellen M. Boit (3
B. Feb. 2, 1803
D. Charleston, S.
Caroline Boit (3)
B. May 5, 1804
D. about 1863
M. Henry F. Baker
Nov. 1822
Merchant, Boston
Col. of Cadets
Harvard 1815
Their children
(a) Ellen Baker (4)
B. Mar. 8, 1825, Boston
D. May 27, 1904, Boston
(b) Darley Baker (4)
B. July 28, 1827 '
D. Oct. 3, 1868, New Orleans
No children living
Harvard 1848
Henry Boit (3)
Dates of birth and death
not known
Went South when young
and died there
Harriet Auchmuty Howard
Boit (3)
B. Aug. 31, 1812, Boston
D. Aug. 20, 1870, Boston
M. Charles Inches, Boston
B. Mar. 19, 1808, Boston
D. Jan. 22, 1888, Boston
Edward Darley Boit (3)
B. Aug. 31, 1813, Boston
D. Oct. 14, 1890, Cotuit
M. June 13, 1839, Boston
Jane Parkinson Hubbard (8)
of Boston
D. May 14, 1890
in Newport, R. I.
Harvard 1834
Julia Overing Boit (3)
B. July 15, 1820
D. May 1, 1888
M. June 4, 1846
Russell Sturgis
Boston and London
Harvard 1823
The Boit Family
B. Aug. 31, 1813, Boston
D. Oct. 14, 1890, Cotuit
M. June 13, 1839, Boston
of Boston I
B. Nov. 25, i8'i8
D. May 14, 1890, Newport R. I.
Harvard 1834
1 Their
Edward Darley Boit (4)
B. May 16, 1840, Boston
D. Apr. 21, 1915
M. (first) June 16, 1864
Mary Louisa Cushing
B. Dec. 19, 1845
D. Sept. 29, 1894
Dinard, France
M. (second) Jan. 5, 1897
Florence Little, Newport, R. I.
B. Nov. 6, 1876
D. Apr. 28, 1902
Paris, France
Harvard 1863
Elizabeth Greene Boit (4)
B. July 7, 1842, Boston
D. Apr. 14, 1875, Providence
M. June 20, 1867
Joseph H. Patten,
B. Mar. 8, 1836
D. Dec. 17, 1874
Robert Apthorp Boit (4)
B. Apr. 29, 1846, Boston
M. (first) Jan. 15, 1874
Georgia Anderson Mercer
Savannah, Ga.
B. Sept. 6, 1852
D. Dec. 6, 1878
M. (second) May 20, 1886
Lilian Willis, New Bedford
B. Apr. 27, 1850
Harvard 1868
children iv
Jane Hubbard Boit (4)
B. Oct. 5, 1849
Jamaica Plain
M. June 1, 1870
Arthur Hunnewell
B. Dec. 1, 1845
D. Oct. 17, 1904
Harvard 1868
John Boit (4)
B. Oct. 27, 1858
Jamaica Plain
M. Sept. 7, 1904
at Laleham, Eng.
Louise Horstmann
Washington, D. C.
B. Mar. 28, 1869
Law School
Julia Boit, (4)
Died in infancy
Descendants of
Their living children
Florence Dumaresq Boit (5)
B. Newport, R. I., 1868
Jane Hubbard Boit (5)
B. 1870
Mary Louisa Boit (5)
B. June 5, 1874
Paris, France
Julia Overing Boit (5)
B. Nov. 15, 1877
Soisy, France
FLORENCE LITTLE (second wife)
Their children
Julian McCarty Boit (5)
B. Jan. 21, 1900
Paris, France
Edward Boit (5)
B. Apr. 12, 1902
Paris, France
 The Boit Family
Their children
Jane Boit Patten (5)
B. June 8, 1869
Eliza Bridgham Patten (5)
B. Sept. 17, 1871
D. Sept. 4, 1890
Jackson, N. H.
William Samuel Patten (5)
B. July 21, 1873
M. June 16, 1904
Anna Morton Thayer
daughter of
Nathaniel Thayer
of Boston and
Lancaster, Mass.
B. May 28, 1883, Boston
Harvard 1895
Their children
1 11
Anna Thayer Patten (6) Jane Hunnewell Patten (6)
B. Mar. 29, 1905 B. May 9, 1906
William Samuel Patten, Jr. (6)
Nov. 29, 1909
i\ I I!
Descendants of
Their children
Mary Anderson Boit (5)
B. Sept. 2, 1877
New York City
M. Sept. 22, .1902
Church of our Saviour
Dr. Hugh Cabot
B. Aug. n, 1872
Beverly, Mass.
Harvard 1894
Their children
Hugh Cabot (6)
B. Feb. 20, 1905
3 Marlborough St., Boston
Mary Anderson Cabot (6)
B. Sept. 24, 1907
87 Marlborough St., Boston
John Boit Cabot (6)
B. Nov. 18, 1909
87 Marlborough St., Boston
Georgia Mercer Boit (5)
B. Nov. 26, 1878 "
M. May 14, 1902
Church of our Saviour
Walter Siegfried Gierasch
B. Berlin, Germany
Dec. 24, 1877
Harvard 1902
Their children
Christina Stuart Gierasch (6)
B. July 29, 1903
Madison, Wis.
D. Chicago, 111.
Walter S. Gierasch (6)
B. July 15, 1905
Chicago, 111.
Robert Boit Gierasch (6)
B. Feb. 12, 1907
Louisville, Ky.
David Gierasch (6)
B. July 5, 1908
Hingham, Mass.
Dorothea Gierasch (6)
B. May 10, 1910
Brookline, Mass.
Edward Darley Gierasch (6)
B. Feb. 14, 1914
Brookline, Mass.
 The Boit Family
LILIAN  WILLIS (second wife)
Their children
Alice Boit (5)
B. May 2, 1887, Brookline
M. Dec. 5, 1914, in the
Church of Our Saviour
Wm. Appleton Burnham, Jr.
Harvard 1904
John Edward Boit (5)
B. Nov. 20, 1889, Brookline
Harvard 1912
 B 1
Descendants of
Their children
Isabella Hunnewell (5)
B. May 7, 1871
M. Oct. 8, 1907
James Searle Barclay
of New York
Jane Boit Hunnewell (5)
B. May 9, 1872
Julia Overing Hunnewell (5)
B. Nov. 19, 1873
Margaret Hunnewell (5)
B. May 21, 1878
M. June 30, 1902
George Baty Blake
of Boston and Lenox, Mass.
Harvard 1893
Their children
Margaret Hunnewell Blake (6)
B. Aug. 1, 1904
Julia Overing Blake (6)
B. Mar. 8, 1907
Their child
John Boit, Jr. (5)
B. Sept. 1, 1910
 The Boit Family
Their children
Susan Brimmer Inches (4)
B.Aug. 15,1838
D. Nov. 3, 1900
M. Oct. 4, 1858
Robert Shaw Sturgis
B. Aug. 29, 1824
D. April 2, 1876
Charles Edward Inches (4)
B. Aug. 31, 1841
D. Jan. 12, 1911
Louise Pomeroy
B. Aug. 14, 1861
Harvard 1861
Harriet Boit Inches (4)
B. Feb. 27, 1844
D. May 24, 1892
ft I
Their children
Robert Sturgis (5)
B. June 27, 1859
D. May 3, 1900
M. June 14, 1888
Marion Sharpless
of New York
Harvard 1881
Charles Inches Sturgis (5)
B. July 21, i860
M.June 6, 1893
Margaret Noble
Harvard 1882
Roger Faxton Sturgis (5)
B. Mar. 21, 1862
M. Oct. 7, 1893
Mildred Frazer
Harvard 1884
Henrietta Auchmuty
Sturgis (5)
B. Mar. 1. 1864
M. Dec. 23, 1886
Charles Edward Ingersoll
of Philadelphia
Elizabeth Perkins Sturgis (5)
B. Dec. 18, 1865
M. June 2, 1885
James Potter
Susan Brimmer Sturgis (5)
B. Aug. 29, 1869
M. June 27, 1898
Antonio Yznaga Stewart
Mary Howard Sturgis (5)
B. Mar. 25, 1872
M. Feb. 28, 1898
Edgar Thomson Scott
 Descendants of
Their children
Mary Lyman Sturgis (6)
B. Feb. 14, 1890
M. April 23, 1912
Armitage Whitman
Henrietta Howard Boit
Sturgis (6)
B. Oct. 29, 1896
Their children
1 n
Robert Shaw Sturgis (6) Frank Noble Sturgis (6)
B. Apr. 4, 1894 B. Jan. 9, 1897
Their children
1 11
Susan Brimmer Sturgis (6) Roger Sturgis (6)
Born Nov. Ii, 1894 Born Feb. 10, 1896
Anita Sturgis (6)
B. June 15, 1898
 The Boit Family
Their children
Anna Warren Ingersoll (6)
B. Sept. 30, 1887
Harry Ingersoll (6)
B. May 27, 1889
Robert Sturgis Ingersoll (6)
B. Dec. 16, 1891
M. Oct. 31, 1914
Maria Bernard Fowle
Charles Jared Ingersoll (6)
B. Feb. 11, 1894
Susan Brimmer Ingersoll (6)
B. Feb. 19, 1896
John Hobart Warren
Ingersoll (6)
B. Oct. 27, 1899
Their children
Elizabeth Sturgis Potter (6)
B. July 9, 1886
M. Jan. 27, 1908
Frank Lyon Polk
John Hamilton Potter (6)
B. June 13, 1888
Robert Sturgis Potter (6)
B. Dec. 20, 1889
Harvard 1912
Alice Beirne Potter (6)
B. July 14, 1892
D. Apr. 12, 1893
Descendants of
Their children
Susan Brimmer Stewart (6)
B. Mar. 2, 1900
Mary Howard Stewart (6)
B. Oct. 13, 1901
William Hood Stewart (6)
B. May 16, 1903
Elizabeth Potter Stewart (6)
B. Nov. 4, 1904
Antonio Yznaga Stewart (6)
B. July 8, 1906
Their children
1 in
Edgar Thomson Scott, Jr. (6) Anna Dike Scott (6)
B. Jan. 11, 1899
Warwick Potter Scott (6)
B. Apr. 17, 1901
B. June 5, 1907
Susan Brimmer Scott (6)
B. Nov. 22, 1908
 The Boit Family
Their children
Henderson Inches (5)
B. Oct. 16, 1885
Harvard 1908
Charles Edward Inches (5)
B. Feb. 27, 1887
Harvard 1909
Louise Brimmer Inches (5)
B. Feb. 24, 1896
(Daughter of John Boit (2)
of Boston and London
Their children
Henry Parkman Sturgis (4)
B. Mar. 1, 1847
M. (first) Oct. 2, 1872
Mary Cecilia Brand
D. June 20, 1886
M. (second) July 17, 1894
Marie Eveleen Meredith
All of England
Oxford University
Julian Russell Sturgis (4)
B. Oct. 21, 1848
D. Apr. 13, 1904
M. Nov. 5, 1883
Mary Maud Beresford
Both of England
Oxford University
Mary Greene Hubbard
Sturgis (4)
B. Feb. 2, 1851
M. (first) July 5, 1871
Leopold Richard Seymour
Col. of Guards, London
D. May 30, 1904
M. (second) July 18, 1906
Bertram Godfrey Falle
Howard Overing Sturgis (4)
B. Nov. 8, 1855
of England
Oxford University
i   1
Descendants of
Their children
Margery Sturgis (5)
B. June 21, 1874
M. Jan. 31, 1900
W. Ellice
Olive Sturgis (5)
B. Apr. 24, 1878
M. Oct. 18, 1900
George Barnard Hankey
Their children
Their child
James Ellice (6)
Hans Mark John
B. June 4, 1901
Barnard Hankey (6)
B. Aug. 17, 1905
Cecilia Ellice (6)
B. July 19, 1906
Henry Russell Sturgis (5)
B. Oct. 25, 1879
Aline Ellice (6)
M. Apr. 28, 1912
B. July 9, 1909
Violet Milne
Rachel Sturgis (5)
B. Feb. 6, 1876
M. Sept. 8, 1898
Aubrey Price
Their children
Margaret Rachel Price (6)
B. Nov. 15, 1899
(b) _
Trevor Price (6)
B. Mar. 2, 1901
John Bryan Sturgis (5)
B. June 22, 1881
M. Feb. 19, 1914
Ishbel Ellice
Mary Sturgis (5)
B.June 17, 1886
M. Feb. 17, 1910
William Basset
Their children
Nancy Ursula Basset (6)
B. Nov. 22, 1910J
Richard Thurstine Basset (6)
B. Apr. 27, 1913
The Boit Family
Their children
Joan Meredith Sturgis (5)
B. July 24, 1895
Dorothy Meredith
Sturgis (5)
B. Jan. 26, 1897
Their children
Mark Beresford Russell
Sturgis (5)
B. July 10, 1884
M. July 9, 1914
Ellen Rachel Stuart Wortley
Gerard Boit Sturgis (5)
B. Sept. 12, 1885 "
Roland Josselyn Russell
Sturgis (5)
B. Jan. 9, 1888
J I.
Descendants of
Their children.
Mildred Seymour (5)
B. Aug. 14, 1872
Conway Russell Seymour (5)
B. June 24, 1874
M. May 27, 1897
Louisa   Mary Street
Richard Sturgis Seymour (5)
B. Sept. 21,1875
M. April 20, 1911
Victoria Alexandra
Their children
Leopold Richard Seymour (6)
B. Sept. 23, 1912
Alexandra Victoria Seymour (6)
B. May 24, 1914
Edward Seymour (5)
B. Feb. 10,1877
M. July 29, 1905
Blanche Frances
Their child
Verena Mary Seymour (6)
B. May 24, 1906
Beauchamp Seymour (5)
B. Oct. 6, 1878
Ethel Seymour (5)
B. Jan. 17, 1881
M. May 23, 1910
Eric Henry Bonham
Their child
Elizabeth Mary Bonham (6)
B. July 10, 1914
Lionel Seymour (5)
B. Feb. 24, 1889 "
M. Oct. 28, 1909
Catherine Wooding
Chapter  XIV
  The Hubbard Family 201
Claimed to be from Edward, the First, of England
1. Edward I married Eleanor, daughter of Ferdinand III of
2. Joan   Plantagenet   married   Gilbert   de   Clare,   Earl   of
3. Margaret de  Clare married   Hugh   de  Audley, Earl of
4. Margaret   de  Audley  married   Ralph   Stafford,   Earl of
5. Hugh,  Earl   of   Stafford,  married  Philippa  Beauchamp,
daughter of Earl of Warwick.
6. Margaret   Stafford   married   Ralph   de   Nevill,   Earl   of
7. Philippa Nevill married Thomas Dacre, Lord Dacre.
8. Thomas Dacre married Eliza Bowes.
9. Joan Dacre married Sir Richard Fienes, Lord Dacre.
10. Sir Thomas Fienes married Alice Fitz Hugh, granddaughter of Richard Nevill, Earl of Salisbury.
11. Thomas Fienes, Lord Dacre, married Anne Bouchier,
daughter of Sir Humphrey Bouchier.
12. Catherine Fienes married Richard Loudenoys.
13. Mary Loudenoys married Thomas Harlakenden.
14. Roger Harlakenden married Elizabeth Hardres.
15. Richard Harlakenden married Margaret (Hubbard) Hobart.
16. Mabel Harlakenden married Governor John Haynes.
17. Ruth Haynes married Samuel Wyllis.
18. Mehitable Wyllis married Rev. Daniel Russell.
19. Mabel Russell married Rev. John Hubbard, died 1705.
Having gone back to Edward I, I understand the line is carried back still farther to the Emperor Charlemagne. This chain is considered valuable by the
Hubbard family, and has been much worn.
Descendants of
In America
Came to Boston, in America, in 1635
He married his wife, Judith, in
Cambridge, England, in 1620
Became a Pastor in Ipswich, Mass.
Died in 1670
John Hubbard (2)
B. 1620
Rev. William Hubbard (2)
B. 1621.    D. 1704
M. (first) Margaret Rogers
M. (second) Mary Crane Pierce
Harvard 1642
Pastor in Ipswich, Mass.
Called the " Historian "
Nathaniel Hubbard (2)
B. 1629
Richard Hubbard (2)
B. 1631
D. 1681, Boston
M. Sarah Bradstreet
Daughter of Gov. Bradstreet
Harvard 1652
Their daughter, Sarah
B. 1659
M. Rev. John Cotton
Margaret Hubbard (2)
B. 1633
M. (first) Ezechiel Rogers
M. (second) Thomas Scott
Martha Hubbard (2)
B. 1638
M. (first) Simeon Eyre
M. (second) John Whittingham
 The Hubbard Family
rev. william hubbard (2)
MARGARET ROGERS (first wife)
Their children
John Hubbard (3)
B. 1648.    D. 1710, Boston
M. Anne Leverett, daughter of
Governor Leverett
Margaret Hubbard (3)
B. 1652
M. John Pynchon
Nathaniel Hubbard (3)
B. 1650
Their children
Mary Hubbard (4)
B. 1673
M. Rev. Thomas Ruggles
Sarah Hubbard (4)
B. 1675
Rev. John Hubbard (4)
B. 1677
D. 1706, Jamaica, L. I.
M. Mabel Russell
Harvard 1695
William Hubbard (4)
B. 1678
Hon. Nathaniel Hubbard (4)
B. 1680.    D. 1748
Harvard 1698
M. (first) Mrs. Elizabeth
(Tailor) Nelson
M. (second) Mrs. Rebecca
(Smith) Gore
Richard Hubbard (4)
B. 1684
Anne Hubbard (4)
B. 1686
 Descendants of
Their children
Dr. John Hubbard (5)
B. 1703.    D. 1773
New Haven
M. Elizabeth Stevens
They had many descendants
Daniel Hubbard (5)
B. 1706.   D. 1741
New London
Yale 1727
. M. Martha Coit
After Daniel Hubbard's death
she married Thomas Greene of
Boston.   D. 1774
Their children
Russell Hubbard (6)
B. 1732   Of Norwich and
New London
Yale 1751
M. Mary Gray
Many descendants
Lucretia Hubbard (6)
B. 1734. Boston
M. Gregory Townsend
Daniel Hubbard (6)
B. 1736.   Of Boston
M. Mary Greene of Boston
Elizabeth Hubbard (6)
B.  1738
M. Benjamin Greene
William Hubbard (6)
B. 1740    Of Boston and
New London
M. (first) Lydia Coit
M. (second) Mary Copley, 1780
M. (third) Joanna Perkins, 1784
Many descendants
 The Hubbard Family
Their children
Martha Hubbard (7)
B. 1758, Boston
M. Adam Babcock
Elizabeth Hubbard (7)
B. 1760, Boston
M. Gardiner Greene
Daniel Hubbard (7)
B. 1762
Thomas Hubbard (7)
B. 1764
John Hubbard (7)
B. 1765.    D. Oct. 1, 1836
M. (first) Elizabeth Patterson
M. (second) Jane Parkinson
Oct. 3, 1802
D. Mar. 3, 1847, Boston
Married at" Plantation Grove"
Mahoica, Demerara
Lucretia Hubbard (7)
B. 1767
Henry Hubbard (7)
B. 1769, Boston
M. Mary Chadwell
Father and mother of
Charles Hubbard
Grandfather and grandmother
of Charles W. Hubbard
of Weston, and
Father and mother of
Mary Hubbard who married
Wm. S. Whitwell, and was the
Mother of Elizabeth Whitwell
who married William Tudor
Gilbert Hubbard (7)
B. 1771
Charles Hubbard (7)
B. 1773
JANE PARKINSON (second wife)
Their children
Mary Greene Hubbard (8)
B. 1806, Boston
D. Sept. 17, 1839
M. Sept. 28, 1829
Russell Sturgis of Boston and
Elizabeth Hubbard (8)
B. 1815, Boston
M. John Singleton Copley
of Boston
No children
Martha Hubbard (8)
B. 1816
William Hubbard (8)
B. 1809.    D. 1841
No children
Anne Hubbard (8)
B. April 21, 1811
Plantation Mainstay
D. Dec. 22, 1867
Tunbridge Wells, Kent
M. James White
Merchant of London
and Ceylon
B. Oct. 31, 1805
Hailsham, Sussex Co.
D. 1889  London
Gardiner Greene
Hubbard (8)
B. 1813.    D. 1856
M. Oct. 3, 1844
Charlotte Caldwell Blake
B. Oct. 26, 1822
D. Nov. 29, 1900
Jane Parkinson Hubbard (8)
B. 1818.    D. 1890
Newport, R. I.
M. June 13, 1839
Edward Darley Boit, Boston
Harvard 1834
Rev. John Parkinson
Hubbard (8)
B. June 1, 1820
D. Oct. 12, 1899
M. June 28, 1849
Adelaide McCulloh
of Virginia
Harriet Hubbard (8)
B. 1822
George Hubbard (8)
No children
 The Hubbard Family
Their children
Russell Sturgis (9)
Manchester, Mass.
B. Aug. 3, 1831
D. Oct. 14, 1899
M. (first) Jan. 10, 1856
Susan Codman Welles
of Boston
M. (second) May 19, 1866
Margaret McCulloh
of Virginia
Lucy Lyman Paine
Sturgis (9)
B. Mar. 13, 1833
D. Jan. 22, 1907
M. Feb. 28, 1856, in Englani
Col. Charles R. Codman
of Boston
Harvard 1849
John Hubbard Sturgis (9)
B. Aug. 5, 1834
D. Feb. 14, 1888
M. Sept. 14, 1858
Frances Anne Codman
D. May 16, 1910
Sister of Col. Charles R.
Descendants of
I 111
Their children
Russell Sturgis (10)
B. Dec. 16, 1856
D. July 17, 1899
M. Mar. 30, 1880
Anne O. Bangs, Boston
Harvard 1878
Susan Welles Sturgis (10)
B. July n, 1858
D. Feb. 18, 1888
M. Oct. 26, 1886
John Preston
No children
Richard Clipston
Sturgis (10)
B. Dec. 24, i860
M. June 22, 1882
Esther M. Ogden of N. Y.
Harvard 1881
William Codman
Sturgis (10)
B. Nov. 15, 1862
M. April 4, 1889
Carolyn Hall of New Jersey
Harvard 1884
MARGARET McCULLOH (second wife)
Their children
Sullivan Warren Sturgis (10)
B. Apr. 24, 1868
M. July 26, 1899
Edith S. Barnes of New York
Harvard 1890
Edward Sturgis (10)
B. Apr. 24, 1868
M. Jan. 14, 1902
Josephine Putnam
Harvard 1890
J. McCulloh Sturgis (10)
B. Nov. 13, 1872
Harvard 1896
Lucy Codman Sturgis (10)
B. Feb. 11, 1876
 Russell Sturgis (ii)
B. Dec. 31, 1880
Anne Outram Sturgis (11)
B. Mar. 25, 1882
M. Apr. 8, 1901
Sidney Archer Lord
Their children
Joseph Lord (12)
B. May 26, 1903
Anne Outram Lord (12)
B. Jan. 6, 1909
Hope Gray Lord (12)
B. July 14, 1914
Susan Welles Sturgis (11)
B. Jan. 14, 1885
M. Apr. 4, 1905
George Clymer
Their children
William Branford Clymer (12)
B. Jan. 20, 1906
Susan Welles Clymer (12)
B. Jan. 8, 1910
Russell Sturgis Clymer (12)
B. Aug. 25, 1914
Beatrice Outram Sturgis (11)
B.Aug. 7, 1886
M. Jan. 22, 1907
Andrew Hopewell Hepburn
Their children
Andrew Hopewell
Hepburn, Jr. (12)
B. Feb. 11, 1910
Russell Sturgis Hepburn (12)
B. May 9, 1912
Gertrude Sturgis (11)
B. June 20, 1889
M. Apr. 24, 1912
Dexter P. Cooper
Their child
Nancy Parshall Cooper (12)
B. Nov. 27, 1913
Carolyn Sturgis (11)
B. June 16, 1891
M. June 15, 1911
Theodore Townsend Scudder
Their children
Theodore Townsend
Scudder, Jr. (12)
B. June 4, 1912
Frances Scudder (12)
B. Nov. 8, 1913
Frances Sturgis (11)
B. Nov
M. Jan. 19, 1914
F. Haven Clark, Jr.
 Descendants of
Their children
Dorothy Margaret Sturgis (i i)
B. July 28, 1891
M. June 1, 1912
Lester William Harding
Their child
Margaret Helen Harding (12)
B. Nov. 11, 1914
Their children
Alan Hall Sturgis (11)
B. April 29, 1892
Margaret Sturgis (11)
B. Mar. 1, 1894
M. Mar. 26, 1913
John Wallace Suter, Jr.
Their child
Margaret Suter (12)
B. April 16, 1914
Julia Sturgis (11)
B. May 23, 1898
 Susan Bainbridge Sturgis (n)
B. Aug. 2, 1900
Edith Sturgis (1 r)
B. April 16, 1903
Their children
Edward Sturgis (11)
B. July 25, 1904
George Putnam Sturgis (11)
B. July 23, 1905
Howard Sturgis (11)
B. Sept. 9, 1906
Harriet Lowell Sturgis (11)
B. Feb. 15, 1908
Josephine Lowell Sturgis (11)
B. Feb. 22, 1910
Charles Russell Lowell
Sturgis (1 a
B. Feb. 8, 1912
Descendants of
Living descendants
Russell Sturgis Codman (10)
B. Oct. 20, 1861
M. Aug. 4, 1891
Anna K. Crafts of Boston
Harvard 1883
Anne McMaster
Codman (10)
B. Nov. 11, 1864
M. Nov. 15, 1892
Henry B. Cabot of Boston
Harvard 1883
Susan Welles Codman (10)
B. Dec. 30, 1866
M. May 19, 1896
Redington Fiske
John Sturgis Codman (10)
B. Feb. 25, 1868
M. Apr. 25, 1901
Susan Sargent Codman
daughter of
Richard Codman
Harvard 1890
Julian Codman (10)
B. Sept. 21, 1870
M. Apr. 29, 1897
Nora Chad wick
Harvard 1892
Their children
(a) (b)
Charles Russell Codman (11) Russell Codman (11)
B. Feb. 22, 1893
B. June 15, 1896
 Henry Bromfield Cabot (n)
B. Dec. 7, 1894
Powell Mason Cabot (11)
B. Dec. 20, 1896
Paul Codman Cabot (11)
B. Oct. 21, 1898
Their children
Redington Fiske (11)
B. Dec. 3, 1898
Francis Fiske (11)
B. Nov. 26, 1900
Lucy Codman Fiske (11)
B. Sept. 22, 1902
Robert Francis Fiske (11)
B. Dec. 22, 1903
John Codman Fiske (11)
B. Feb. 8, 1910
Descendants of
Their child
Rachel Sturgis Codman (ii)
B. June 21, 1909
Their children
(a) (b)
Lucy Sturgis Codman (11) Hester Schuyler Codman (11)
B. May 5, 1907 B. April 17, 1909
 The Hubbard Family
Their children
John Hubbard Sturgis (10)
B. Oct. 11, i860
M. July 19, 1898
Kate Hosmer
Harvard 1881
Gertrude Gouverneur
Sturgis (10)
B. Feb. 3, 1862
D. Mar. 15, 1890
M. Aug. 29, 1889
Francis W. Hunnewell
Harvard i860
No children
Frances C. Sturgis (10)
B. Nov. 7, 1863
Mabel Russell Sturgis (10)
B. July 17, 1865
Alice Maud Sturgis (10)
B. June 4, 1868
Charles R. Sturgis (10)
B. April 9, 1871
D. Oct. 2, 1909
M. April 13, 1909
Alice Bowditch
of Albany, N. Y.
Harvard 1893
No children
Evelyn R. Sturgis (10)
B. Oct 4, 1872
Their children
Gertrude Gouverneur
Sturgis (11)
B. July 5, 1899
John Hubbard Sturgis (11)
B. Nov. 27, 1900
D. Sept. 10, 1909
Frances Anne Sturgis (11)
B. Oct. 30, 1903
Katherine Sturgis (11)
B. Oct. 17, 1904
 ' (111
Descendants of
ii vi
Their children
Eliza died unmarried (9)
John Hubbard White (9)
B. 1834.    D. 1910
M. 1856
Emma Davies
General of Royal Engineers
Master of Mint in Bombay
Retired and died in England
Anne Gordon White (9)
B. 1836
M. 1866
Henry Bois, a Merchant of
Retired to London
Ellen Parkinson White (9)
B. Dec. 1838
M. 1867
Sir William F. Haynes-Smith
K. C. M. G.
Retired to London from the
Colonial Service
Mary Elizabeth White (9)
B. 1840
M. 1868
Frederick Bois
Brother of Henry Bois
Merchant of Ceylon
Retired to London
Madeline Louise White (9)
B. 1842.    D. 1908
M. 1871
Sydney Unwin
Emigrated to Tasmania
One boy and four girls
All married but one girl
Gordon White (9)
B. 1844.    D. 1903
M. 1880
Miss Annie Lovell
Two boys and two girls of
whom one boy is dead
Isa Loring White (9)
B. 1846
M. 1869
Gabriel Ross
Russell White (9)
B. 1854
Married twice
No children
A Doctor
 The Hubbard Family
Their children
John Houghton White (10)
B. 1857
D. 1895
Herbert White
B. 1858
D. 1862
Julian White (10)
B. i860
D. 1896
Ella White (10)
B. 1862
Sir Henry Pilkingham
They have one son, William
who is now fighting in the
Canadian Contingent
Three daughters
Mary White (1 o)
B. 1866
Maude White (10)
B. 1868
Herbert Carden
They had one son who is now
a prisoner of war
One other son
Two daughters
Beryl White (10)
B. 1872
Captain Shelley
They had two children
Boy and girl
James Ross White (10)
B. 1875
M. 1908
Miss McPherson
A Captain of the
Royal Engineers
No children
 Descendants of
Living children
Gordon Bois (10)
B. 1868
M. 1900
Miss Harvey
No children
In his father's business
Ceylon Merchant
Herbert Gordon Bois (10)
B. 1873
M. 1900
Florence Anderson
Three boys
In father's business
Ceylon Merchant
Anne Gordon Bois (10)
B. 1875
M. 1898
Thomas Webster
Two girls and boy
Elsie Gordon Bois (10)
B. 1876
M. 1912
John Gabarde
No children
Charles Gordon Bois (10)
B. 1878
In business in London
At present in Red Cross work
with motor in France
 The Hubbard Familj
Living children
Anne Gordon Haynes-
Smith (10)
Captain E. C. Villiers
Royal Navy
In command of defences of
the Nore
Their children
Ellen Margaret Villiers (11)
B. 1901
Louis Alexander Villiers (11^
B. 1902
Godson of Prince Louis
of Battenberg
William Amherst Villiers (11)
B. 1904
John Michael Villiers (11)
B. 1906
Edward Jordon Villiers (11)
B. 1909
William Haynes-Smith (10)
Their children
Mary Louise Bois (10)
B. 1872
M. 1898
Graham Hurd-Wood
They have two sons
Edric and Fergus
Both midshipmen in the Navy
One of whom was a survivor of
the " Formidable "
which sunk on January 2, 1915
and one daughter, Margery
Winnifred Bois (10)
B. 1875
Mm Ls-bJ
Descendants of
Living children
Isa Ross (10)
. M.
Sir Stanley Bois
Youngest brother
of her Bois uncles
No children
Isa Ross
Ena Ross (10)
Brenda Ross (10)
Sir Stanley Bois
Her sister's
Walter Ross (10)
Children who reached maturity
Francis Stanton Hubbard (9)
B. Dec. 21, 1847, Boston
M. June 23, 1909
Fannie Mabel Rebecca Hill
of Kent, Eng.
B. Feb.
John Gordon Hubbard (9)
B. Feb. 13, 1853, Boston
M. April 15, 1901
Jane Frances Ferguson
B. Dec. 26, 1857
Mass. Inst. Technology
Joint inventor with
Francis Blake of the
Blake Transmitter
 Mary Adelaide Hubbard (9)
B. Dec. 9, 1850
Russell Sturgis Hubbard (9)
B. June 26,1863
Elizabeth Perry
B. Jan. 9, 1875
Their children
Russell Sturgis
Hubbard, Jr. (10)
B. Sept. 8, 1902
John Perry Hubbard (10)
B. Oct 26, 1903
James Dewolf Hubbard (10)
B. Dec. 7, 1907
Anne McCulloh Hubbard (9)
B. Sept. 26, 1866
Anne Jefferys (10)
B. July 27, 1898
Lucy Jefferys (10)
B. Mar. 18, 1904
Adelaide McCulloh
Jefferys (10)
B. Mar. 23, 1907
Edith Hubbard (9)
B. Aug. 4, 1874
I would say again, in explanation, that I am the son of Edward
Darley Boit (3) and Jane Parkinson Hubbard (8). I have given
the pedigrees of the Boit and Hubbard families down to my said
father and mother. I have given the descendants of my father
and mother. To these I have added the descendants of the
brothers and sisters of my father and mother, that is to say the
descendants of my own uncles and aunts.
Robert Apthorp Boit (4)
April 29, 1915.
i aeSr**
Married May 20, 1886
Born April 27, 1850
New York City
Chapter XV
(HEIR first child was Alice Boit, born in Hawes
Street, Brookline, Massachusetts, May 2, 1887;
married William Appleton Burnham, of Boston,
Their second child was John Edward Boit, born in
Hawes Street, Brookline, Massachusetts, November 20,
Lilian Willis was the daughter of Nathaniel P. Willis,
the well-known author and poet, and his second wife,
Cornelia Grinnell of New Bedford, Massachusetts.
Nathaniel Parker Willis was born in Portland, Maine,
and was a graduate of Yale. His life has been so fully
written, and his journeyings and writings are so well
known, that it is unnecessary for me to enlarge upon
Cornelia Grinnell was born in New Bedford, Massachusetts, and the daughter of Cornelius Grinnell, who
died when she was young.    Afterwards she was adopted
 The Boit Family
by her uncle, Joseph Grinnell, of New Bedford, who was
the founder of the old and well-known firm of Grinnell,
Minturn & Co., of New York. He later returned to New
Bedford, and was one of the builders of the Wamsutta
Mills, and its President for fifty years. He was also
President of the First National Bank until he died, in
the full possession of his faculties, at the good old age
of ninety-seven. Another brother of his was Henry
Grinnell, of New York, who chiefly financed two Arctic
expeditions in search of Sir John Franklin. Grinnell
Land was named for him. Another brother was Moses
Grinnell of New York, who was at one time the Collector
of the Port of New York, and whose daughter, Frances,
married Thomas Cushing of Boston, the brother of Mary
Louisa Cushing, who married Edward Darley Boit (4).
i. Matthew, born 1602, died 1643. Settled and died
on Island of Aquidneck, Rhode Island. On May 20,
1638, was admitted as an inhabitant of Newport, Rhode
Island. Married Rose . . . who later married Anthony
Paine, of Portsmouth, Rhode Island, and again James
Weeden, of Portsmouth.
2. Daniel Grinnell, of Freetown, Massachusetts, who
married Sarah Chase. Another record calls him of
Portsmouth and Little Compton, Rhode Island. In 1657
he became a Freeman of Portsmouth and married Mary
Wordell, born in 1640.    By trade, maltster.
3. Richard Grinnell, born 1675, died July 1, 1725, of
Little Compton, Rhode Island, a large land owner. Married May 25, 1704, Patience Emery, who was born in
1681 and died 1749. His will was probated July 20,
1725, dividing a large landed estate among his children.
The inventory of his estate shows that he owned two
slaves : Toby, valued at £60, and Phillis, at ^55* When
his widow, Patience, died, her estate was valued at £1,105.
They were both buried in the quaint cemetery at Little
Compton Commons.
4. Daniel Grinnell, born April  20, 1721, in  Little
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Compton, and died there. He was a prosperous farmer.
He married, May 31, 1741, Grace, daughter of John and
Elizabeth Palmer. She was born January 18, 1720.
Through the Church family (her mother's family) she
was a descendant of Richard Warren, of the Mayflower.
5. Cornelius Grinnell, born February n, 1758, in
Little Compton, died, April 19, 1850, in New Bedford.
Started as apprentice to a hatter in New Bedford, but
broke away, and went to sea, entering the whaling service. In 1791, was first mate on ship Rebecca, owned
by Joseph Russell, and next voyage became Captain.
Later, he sailed in the merchant service and prospered
greatly. He became a very prominent man in his community. He married in 1785, Sylvia Howland, daughter
of Gideon and Sarah (Hicks) Howland, of Dartmouth,
Rhode Island. She was born August 4, 1765, died
August 1, 1837. During the Revolutionary War, Captain Grinnell served his country on land and sea. " Hale,
hearty, intelligent and hospitable, he died, full of years
and universally respected, leaving behind him a remarkable family." He was a Director of the first bank started
in New Bedford, in 1803, and called the Bedford Bank.
He was also an incorporator and trustee of the New
Bedford Institution for Savings. " Captain Grinnell was
a gentleman of the old school, hospitable, urbane, a man
of sound judgment and unswerving integrity of character.
In personal appearance he was said strongly to resemble
the great Lafayette.    He retained until his last years,
\ m
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of Boston. Edith, born, September 28, 1853; married
Lawrence Leslie Grinnell of New York. Bailey, born
May 31, 1857 ; married Margaret Baker of Washington.
There are other branches of the Grinnell family.
At the death of her father, Cornelius Grinnell,
Cornelia Grinnell was adopted by her uncle, Honorable
Joseph Grinnell, a distinguished man, at one time in
Congress. He left his property to Cornelia and her
Sketch of his life by his great-granddaughter, Mary Stuart (Mercer) Walker
— sister of Georgia (Mercer) Boit.   Written for the Celebrations
at Mercersburgh, Pennsylvania, about 1910
•W    Chapter XVI
N the parish register of the little country church at
Pitsligo, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, there are the following entries: "June 9th 1723, this Lord's day,
Mr. William Mercer, and Mistress Anne Munroe, were
proclaimed for the third time," their marriage following
in the same month.
Then "January 17th 1726 the Reverent Mr. William
Mercer, and Mrs. Anne Munroe his wife, had a son
baptised named Hugh."
In view of the above entries, I must take issue with
such of his biographers as give the year 1721 as the
date of the birth of my great-grandfather, Hugh Mercer.
More accurate history should place it in the year 1725.
Descended on his paternal side, from a long line of
ministers of the Church of Scotland, from about 1650,
it was doubtless both from inheritance and training, that
Hugh Mercer was so thoroughly imbued with those sterling virtues of truth, a high sense of honor, loyalty and
devotion to duty, which made him the good and great
man he was afterwards to become.    According to our
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family tradition he was a man of modest, gentle, unassuming nature, content to do his duty faithfully as he
saw it, without any undue regard either to the praise or
blame of others; and he would, no doubt, in his early
years, have been very much surprised had it been foretold of him, how prominent a part he was destined to
play in after life, in the history of his adopted country.
Hugh Mercer became a student of medicine at Marischal
College, in 1740, and we next hear of him as an assistant
surgeon in the army of " Bonnie Prince Charlie," in 1746,
in that ill-fated attempt to place him on the throne of
his fathers.
The Scotch, especially those from the Highlands, were
always loyal to the house of Stuart, and Mercer, no
doubt convinced of the justice of the cause, and with all
his martial and patriotic spirit stirred to the depths,
hastened to " Link his fortune and his fate " to the cause
of the Pretender.
This was all the more to be expected as he had fighting blood in his veins, his maternal grandfather being Sir
Robert Munroe, who fought with distinction in the British army on the continent, at Fontenoy and elsewhere.
He was ordered home to oppose the Young Pretender,
and was killed while in command at the battle of Falkirk,
in 1746. We do not know whether his grandson, Hugh
Mercer, was his opponent on that bloody field, but we
do know that he was certainly at the battle of Culloden,
where Prince  Charlie's army was completely crushed,
 Chronicles of
and the Stuart cause lost forever. "In his flight the
Pretender was like a hare hunted by hounds. Flora
MacDonald, a Scottish maiden, foiled his pursuers; and
at length he reached France in safety. His loyal and
loving followers found refuge in any way possible, hunted
down and mercilessly butchered when caught. The terrible tragedy of the battle was as nothing compared to
the butchery of these fugitives by the relentless and
implacable Duke of Cumberland, a name made infamous
by his treatment of a fallen foe."
After remaining in hiding for a time, Hugh Mercer
managed to escape the vigilance of his enemies, and in
the fall of the year 1746, embarked at Leith for America,
landing a few weeks afterwards at Philadelphia. He
remained but a short time in that city, however, and then
made his first attempt to establish a home, on the western borders of the state of Pennsylvania, at a place then
described as "near Greencastle," but now, since named
in his honor, known to all the country as Mercersburgh.
Here he settled down to the practice of his profession
— a varied experience in those Colonial times on the frontier of civilization, requiring high qualities of endurance,
patience, skill and courage. It is believed that Mercer's
services as a physician and surgeon covered the whole
Conococheague settlement, embracing the entire district
between Chambersburg and his own residence; and
young as he was at that time, he was well known to all
the inhabitants of  the region round about, loved and
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welcomed everywhere, and looked up to as one who not
only healed the sick, but who strengthened the weak,
comforted the weary, and cheered the sorrowing. It was
a splendid preparation for the hardships and privations
he was in the future called upon to endure. | A life of
hardship well done, and consecrated by self-sacrifice."
But Dr. Mercer was not to be allowed to lead his
chosen life for a very long period among those peaceful
scenes, in that beautiful part of the state of Pennsylvania.
After Braddock's disastrous defeat by the French and
Indians in his attempt to capture Fort Duquesne, in the
year 1755, the Indians emboldened by success, became
more and more troublesome, and in self-defence the
Colonists formed themselves into companies of Rangers,
of one of which Dr. Mercer was made Captain. His
commission is dated, March, 1756, and his territory
extended to the Welsh Run district and Mercersburgh,
into the remote regions among the foothills, with headquarters at McDowell's Fort, now Bridgeport.
In one of his Indian fights he was severely wounded,
and having been left behind by his retreating companions, he narrowly escaped with his life. Closely pursued by the savages, he providentially found a place of
safety in the hollow trunk of a tree around which the
Indians rested, and discussed the prospect of scalping
him in the near future. When they had taken their
departure, Mercer struck out in another direction, and
completely outwitted them.    Sick with his wounds, and
*- «^-i"—"""*•—■»—™-
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worn out with his struggles, he began a lonely march of
one hundred miles, but finally succeeded in joining the
remnant of his command at Fort Cumberland. To sustain existence while on this wearisome march, he was
compelled to live upon roots and herbs, the carcass of a
rattlesnake proving his most nourishing meal.
Hugh Mercer was with the force that surprised and
destroyed the Indian village of Kittaning in 1756, but
was severely wounded in that encounter, and once more
counted among the missing. For the second time he
had to use all his wits to manoeuvre and march through
the forest, half famished, and faint from the lack of food,
until he succeeded in joining his surviving companions.
Such energy and bravery illicited the applause of all who
knew his experiences, and in appreciation of his services
and sufferings, the Corporation of Philadelphia presented
him with a vote of thanks, and a beautiful memorial
In the summer of 1757 Mercer was made Commander
of the garrison in the fort at Shippensburg, and in
December of the same year was appointed Major of
the forces of the province of Pennsylvania, posted west
of the Susquehanna. In the following year he was in
command of a part of the expedition of General Forbes
against Fort Duquesne; and it was on this memorable
march that he first met George Washington, then a
Brigadier-general of Virginia troops. A strong attachment soon sprang up between these two men, which
 lasted as long as Mercer lived, and as a result of that
attachment, on the advice and at the suggestion of
Washington, Virginia became the home of Hugh Mercer,
and Mercersburgh, Pennsylvania, lost a good and valued
After the conclusion of the French and Indian War,
and the evacuation of the forts by their French garrisons,
Mercer, who had been promoted to the rank of Colonel,
retired from military life, and moving to Fredericksburg,
Virginia, again commenced the practice of his profession
as a physician. " At this time, although thinly settled,
this part of Virginia contained the homes of many of the
most distinguished families on the continent. They
gave Mercer the cordial welcome to which his education
and talents entitled him, reinforced by his brilliant career
as a military man, and supplemented by the brotherly
love and many favors shown him by General Washington."
Life in the quiet little town of Fredericksburg, during
the next few years, was uneventful; the only matter of
interest being Mercer's marriage to Isabella Gordon, the
daughter of a prominent Virginia family, and a sister of
the lady who married George Weedon, a Major-general
in the War of the Revolution. At his death, General
Weedon left his property to my Grandfather Hugh
Mercer, 2d, who was an infant at the time of his father's
death at the Battle of Princeton.
With this dear old home, "The Sentry Box," on the
banks of the Rappahannock River, are connected some
Chronicles of
of the happiest memories of my childhood and early girlhood. My father, Hugh Mercer, 3d, was the much
beloved eldest son of the family, and as long as his
parents lived, his children were taken by him every
year to spend a few weeks in " The Sentry Box," still
dear to my memory.
In 1775, Dr. Mercer's quiet life was again to be interrupted by political troubles. " Ominous clouds were
gathering in the Colonial sky, and the perilous situation
was quickly and fully realized by the patriotic Virginians.
When the general British order went forth to seize
all military stores in the Colonies, the Americans made
prompt resistance without further parleying. Massachusetts was speedily followed by Virginia; and in almost
the first important item, we find that Dr. Hugh Mercer
was drilling a partially organized body of Virginia men
to be ready for any emergency. They did not have long
to wait, and when * the next gale from the north brought
the clash of resounding arms,' the patriots of Virginia
commenced organizing for immediate fighting."
In March, 1775, the Virginia Convention assembled
in St. John's Church, Richmond, where the eloquence
of Patrick Henry, and his splendid rallying cry of "Liberty or Death" stirred all hearts to decision and action.
Mercer, with his customary modesty, made to the Convention his simple proffer of services in the expressive words:
" Hugh Mercer will serve his adopted country, and the
cause of liberty, in any rank or station to which he may
 be assigned." Noble words, these, which found their
echo in what he said later: "We are not engaged in a
war of ambition, or I should not have been here. Every
man should be content to serve in that station in which
he can be most useful. For my part I have but one
object in view, and that is the success of the cause; and
God can witness how cheerfully I would lay down my
life to secure it."
After some balloting and discussion, to Mercer was
assigned the Colonelcy of the Third Regiment of Virginia,
but Congress having adopted the Virginia troops as a
part of the Continental Army, Mercer was not long permitted to remain a Colonel, but on the urgent recommendation of Washington, was made a Brigadier-general.
His commission is dated June 5, 1776, and his assignment with " the Army around New York." It is impossible within the limits of this short sketch, to follow all
the details of the later career of my illustrious ancestor,
as much as it would interest me to do so, and I must
confine myself to matters only of the greatest interest.
The friendship between Washington and Mercer continued warm and unabated, and there is every reason to
believe that the latter was often consulted upon military
matters by his great Chief. It is stated on good authority that the idea of attacking the British Army at Trenton
originated with Mercer, and he is also credited with the
plan of the battle of Princeton.
This was a most daring venture, for our little army
Chronicles of
was struggling against tremendous odds, and a single
break in the American calculations meant untold disaster.
"All went well through the night, but in the early
hours of the 3d of January, 1 yyy, the American troops
were surprised by the 17th British Regiment under Colonel Mawhood. General Mercer was on a fine gray
horse, occupying the post of honor in the front, and at
the first volley from the enemy his horse was brought
down, and his most trusted lieutenant, Colonel Hazlett,
killed. The British troops charged after the third volley,
and the Colonists were driven back in disorder before a
bayonet charge, by a force vastly superior in numbers."
Mercer was unable to extricate himself from his fallen
horse in time to defend himself at once, and at that instant he was surrounded by a detachment of the enemy,
who thought from his prominent position in the front
that they had captured the " rebel General Washington."
They demanded his surrender but with too reckless courage, he refused, and sought to fight his way out with
his sword, when he was struck from behind by a blow
with the butt end of a musket, and was knocked down,
receiving while he lay helpless, no less than seven bayonet
wounds in his body, in addition to two wounds in the head.
As soon after the battle as possible, General Mercer was
moved to an adjacent farmhouse owned by Mr. Clark,
where he was tenderly cared for by Mrs. Clark and her
daughter; and for a time his recovery was hoped for, in
spite of the intense pain from his wounds and the great
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loss of blood. Every thing that medical skill could
accomplish was done to alleviate his suffering, and to
save the life of this brave and gallant man, but nine
days after the battle he expired in the arms of Major
George Lewis, who had been sent by his uncle, General
Washington, to minister to the wants of the dying hero.
General Mercer died as he had lived, bravely and
calmly sinking into his well-earned rest. "What is to
be, is to be! Goodbye, dear native land! Farewell
adopted country! I have done my best for you! Into
thy care, O America, I commit my fatherless family!
May God prosper our righteous cause! Amen !" Such
was his final prayer; his race was won, his labor over.
And so passed into the Great Beyond this brave and
good man, a pure patriot and a martyr to the cause of
liberty. It is no exaggeration to say that the whole
country mourned his loss. His body was removed under
a military escort from Princeton to Philadelphia, where
it lay in state for a day, and was then interred in Christ
Churchyard with military honors, and attended, it is said,
by over thirty thousand persons. General Mercer was a
member of the St. Andrew's Society of Philadelphia, and
his body was removed in 1840 to Laurel Hill Cemetery,
and reinterred in the burial lot purchased for the purpose
by that Society, which in addition to caring for his grave,
is the custodian of his sword, now deposited with the
Historical Society of Philadelphia.
I cannot more fitly close this sketch than by quoting
 Chronicles of
the fine words of a recent biographer: " He is entitled
to the gratitude of all liberty-loving America. His life
was beautiful and complete in its symmetry, and was
both a benediction and benefaction. The memory of
such a man cannot perish from the face of the earth,
but shall be as eternal as Truth."
Copy of letter given me by Mary Stuart (Mercer)
Walker, written by her great-great-grandfather, John
Stuart, sixth Earl of Traquair, to his daughter, Lady
Christina Griffin, wife of Cyrus Griffin of Virginia, whose
daughter married Hugh Mercer, 2d of Virginia.
"Traquair, 26th March, 1774.
I To the Right Honorable
I Lady Christina Griffin :
" My dear Christina,—
" Yours of the 14th November from Virginia I received
about a fortnight ago; but previously to it I had got a
letter from Mr. Griffin with the agreeable accounts of
your safe arrival, to which I returned an answer a few
days after.
I We were all very sorry for the danger you underwent
in your voyage; but at the same time were thankful for
lis %,
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our ignorance of the hazard you were in till all your fears
and dangers were over. Your accounts of little Jacky
were very agreeable; long may he be a blessing and
comfort to you both, and as you have been so agreeably
welcomed and entertained by all Mr. Griffin's acquaintances and friends in that country, I don't doubt but
that their future behavior will endear you more both to
them and to the place. As your sister Lucy who is
lately come from ... I shall refer you to her accounts of that town and news of all your acquaintances, and confine mine to those of this family, and
what chiefly concerns you; to wit, the death of your old
friend, Lady Earlshall, which happened about six weeks
ago. As the papers concerning your claim upon her
heir were left in my custody by Mr. Griffin, and the
. . . Mr. Robert Henderson is waiting to be informed
of all her debts, I have thought it the properest way to
lodge the vouchers for your claim in the hands of Mr.
Colquhoun Grant especially as I am not to be long in
this country. He is to be soon at Traquair; shall then
make him peruse the papers and after that transmit to
Mr. Griffin his opinion of them, whether they would
stand a law-suit, or to save expenses perhaps it would be
more eligible to submit the affair to arbiters, but in the
meantime I shall tell him to do nothing in it till Mr.
Griffin sends him orders how to act.
"About three weeks ago our family are separate —
Your brother and wife are gone to live at Edinburgh
  Glasgow. Adieu. My affectionate and warmest love
ever attend you, Mr. Griffin, and my dear little namesake, and I am
" Mrs. Oliver received your present and values it much.
She was here the other day and begged to be remembered to you and Mr. Griffin in the kindest manner.
Mrs. Donnie is returned from her jaunt to Paris. She
says she cannot understand how the sheets are missing,
thinks you must have counted wrong.'
 Chronicles of
of Virginia
M. 1834
of Savannah, Ga.
Their children were
George Anderson Mercer
M. 1861
Nannie Herndon of Virginia
William Gordon, died young
Hugh Weedon, died young
Mary Stuart Mercer
M. 1863
Henry Harrison Walker
of Virginia
Georgia Anderson Mercer
of Savannah, Ga.
M. 1874
Robert Apthorp Boit
of Boston, Mass.
General Hugh Weedon Mercer, West Point Graduate and General
in Confederate Army, son of Hugh Mercer of Virginia and
Louisa Griffin. Louisa Griffin was the daughter of Cyrus
Griffin and Lady Christina Stuart, daughter of John Stuart,
Earl of Traquair, Scotland.
Hugh Mercer of Virginia, son of General Hugh Mercer (baptised
in Pitsligo, in the Presbytery of Deen, Aberdeenshire, January 17, 172,6), and Isabel Gordon, his wife.
General Hugh Mercer, killed, Battle of Princeton, 1777, settled in
Virginia, after the Battle of Culloden, son of William Mercer
(born 1696; ordained by the Presbytery at the Kirk of Tyrie,
September, 1720) and his wife, Anna Munro, daughter of Sir
Robert Munro of Fowlis.   Married, June 1723.
Reverend William Mercer, son of Thomas Mercer of Todlaw
and Middyburn.
Reverend Thomas Mercer, son of John Mercer (ordained Minister of Kenellan, in Aberdeenshire in 1650) and Lilias Row,
his wife, daughter of John Row, the Historian of the Church.
Reverend John Mercer, son of Robert Mercer, Minister of Ellon,
Aberdeenshire, from 1596, died at Ellon, 1642.
Great-grandfather of Georgia (Mercer) Boit
By Sally Nelson Robins
Chapter XVII
THE Griffin family, of Virginia, was founded by
Thomas Griffin, who took up various grants of
land, from 1651, on the Rappahannock River in
Thomas and his brother Samuel came to America
from Wales. They left their eldest brother in Wales,
who possessed an estate of £600 sterling per annum.
He died without issue, and Samuel went back to Wales
to look after the estate. He died before his business
was finished. Thomas then sent over an agent to collect
the revenue of the estate.
Thomas Griffin never left Virginia. His wife's maiden
name is not known. Her baptismal name was Sarah.
Their eldest child, Colonel Leroy Griffin, Justice of
Rappahannock County, 16 80-1695, married Winifred,
daughter of Colonel Gawin Corbin. Thenceforward the
" Corbin-Griffins" appear. The oldest son of Colonel
Leroy and Winifred Griffin was Thomas, of Richmond
County, Virginia.    He was a member of the House of
 Chronicles of
Burgesses, for Richmond County, from 1718 to 1723.
His oldest son, Leroy, High Sheriff of Richmond County,
married October 5, 1734, Mary Ann, only daughter and
heiress of John Bertrand, of | Belleisle," Lancaster
County, Virginia, and had four sons, who became useful
and distinguished men.
Cyrus Griffin, born in 1749, was the fourth and youngest son.
The opening words of a discolored, almost illegible,
autograph letter of Judge Richard Peters, dated " Belmont" (Philadelphia County, Pennsylvania), July 6, 1820,
addressed to Dr. S. S. Griffin, Yorktown, Virginia, gives
us a favorable comment upon the character of Cyrus
Griffin, the last president of the Continental Congress:
" Dear Sir: — I am happy that any occasion should
have given me the pleasure of a letter from the son of
my late much-esteemed friend, Cyrus Griffin, with whom
I have spent many happy hours, and have cheerfully
passed through many a gloomy day. At the period of
our acquaintance, we never complained of ' hard times,'
for we had made up our minds steadily to encounter
them. We, of this day, must acquire the same habits,
and we shall find the pressure the lighter, and the burden the more easily borne.'
Of the early years of the life of Cyrus Griffin, we
know little.    He was sent abroad to be educated, and
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studied in Edinburgh and London, and graduated in law
at the Temple. The family of Admiral Sir John Griffin,
seated at " Trexted," on the road from London to New
Market, acknowledged relationship, and the American
youth frequently visited there.
While at college at Edinburgh, Cyrus Griffin formed
a friendship with a young man near his own age, Charles
Stuart (Lord Linton), son and heir of the Earl of
Traquair. Lord Linton invited young Griffin to make
him a visit at Traquair House. There he met the Ladies
Christina, Mary and Louisa, stiff young Scottish maidens,
reared in dignified seclusion at their buttressed, historic
home. We can fancy that this stalwart, frank, young
American, with his cordial manner and merry words, was
a revelation to the prim daughters of an earl. Lady
Christina was at once attracted to the Virginia stranger;
indeed, a mutual interest was simultaneous, unobserved
at first by the noble father.
John, the sixth Earl of Traquair, Lord Stuart, of Traquair, Linton and Caberston, died in Paris, March 28,
1779, aged eighty-one. He married in 1740, Christian,
daughter of Sir Patrick Anstruther, of Anstrutherfield,
Baronet, relict of Sir William Weir, of Blackwood, Lanark, Baronet. He had by her, who died at Traquair,
November 12, 1771, aged sixty-nine, an only son, Charles, Lord Linton, afterwards the seventh earl, and three
daughters, Lady Christina, Lady Mary and Lady Lucy.
h WL
 Chronicles of
The eldest of this trio, hedged about by royal
connection, historic family, and the pride of an earl,
responded to the suit of Cyrus Griffin, in a remote and
sombre castle; and, although an irate father and religious
prejudice (she was a Roman Catholic) forbade a union,
they, like two blind lovers of our own time, scorned every
barrier, and were wedded. In an old scrap-book of
James Lewis Corbin Griffin, a grandson of Cyrus Griffin,
we find they were married at Traquair by a Romish
priest; but there is also a tradition in the Griffin family
that they fled from Traquair at night, and that the grand
lady, unused to sudden journeys across a rough country,
fell and hurt her slender ankle. Then her brave young
lover bore her in his arms, mile after mile, until they
reached a parson, who joined them in wedlock. The
story goes, that in consequence, Lady Christina was
always lame.
The marriage bond between Cyrus Griffin and his wife
was for years in possession of Mrs. Mottrom Dulaney
Ball, and was destroyed when the Ball mansion, in Fairfax County, Virginia, was burned, in 1886. No copy
was preserved, but it is said that Benjamin Franklin's
name was affixed to it; he was at the time agent for
Pennsylvania, in London. If they married clandestinely
the Earl soon forgave them, for their first son, named for
his grandfather, was born at Traquair, in 1771. After
the birth of their eldest son, Cyrus Griffin and Lady
Christina came to Virginia and resided at Williamsburg,
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and   Cyrus   Griffin  forthwith  became zealous  for  the
"patriot cause."
He was a close personal friend of George Washington,
who valued his judgment, for he asked his opinion upon
the judiciary appointments of Virginia, wishing to know of
him which he considered the fittest— Edmund Pendleton,
George Wythe, Lyons or Blair. Griffin recommended
Blair and Pendleton. Pendleton declined to serve, and
Cyrus Griffin himself was then appointed.
Judge Griffin left the seclusion of Williamsburg in
1778, having been elected a delegate to the old Congress,
and served till 1781. August 19, 1778, he presented
the credentials of himself and colleagues; September 28,
he voted upon the conduct of Silas Deane, and December
19, 1778, he signed the instructions given by Virginia to
her delegates in Congress, authorizing that body that she
was "ready and willing to ratify the confederation with
one or more States."
Cyrus Griffin was president of the Supreme Court of
Admiralty from its creation until its abolition.
He was re-elected to Congress in 1787, and served
two terms, and was the last president of the Continental
Congress. He and Lady Christina attended the inaugural ball of George Washington.
He was elected Judge of the General court by joint
ballot of the Senate and House of Delegates, December
27, 1788, in the room of Beverley Randolph, who was
elected Governor of Virginia.    October 29, 1789, he took
 *' i:
Chronicles of
the oath of privy councilor before Turner Southall, a
Justice of the Peace for Henrico County, Virginia, and
in the same year was made judge of the United States
for the district of Virginia, which office he held until his
death. He sat with Chief Justice Marshall in the trial
of Aaron Burr.
The last years of the life of Cyrus Griffin were darkened by ill-health. He travelled extensively in the hope
of recovery, and died in December, 1810. Lady Christina
had preceded him to the grave three years.
Judge Cyrus Griffin had four children. John, who
was a judge in the State of Michigan; Samuel Stuart,
who married Sally Lewis, of Gloucestertown, Virginia;
Mary, who married her cousin, Thomas Griffin, of York-
town ; and Louisa, who married Hugh Mercer, son of the
famous General Hugh Mercer. Samuel Stuart Griffin,
the second son of Cyrus, was educated in Scotland. He
knew well and loved his mother's relations and spent
much of his time at Traquair. His uncle, Charles Stuart,
was then the seventh earl, and his first cousin was Charles,
Lord Linton. His aunts, Lady Mary and Lady Lucy,
were alive, and used their influence to bring him into the
Roman Catholic faith. When an old man he used to
tell his grandchild the weird tales of Traquair, where he
had eaten the famous " haggis " and heard the mournful
pipes. Many years after his return to Virginia, the Reverend Dr. Ley burn, of Baltimore, an eminent divine of the
Presbyterian Church, and his wife, who was Louisa Mercer,
The Boit Family
a granddaughter of Cyrus Griffin, visited their kin of
Traquair House, bearing letters from Dr. Samuel Stuart
Griffin to his first cousin, Charles Stuart, then the
eighth Earl of Traquair.
The Traquair House, where Judge Griffin courted and
won his wife, stands on the small stream of Quair, near
its junction with the Tweed, and about a mile from
Innerleithen. The house occupies a low position, shut
out from extensive views by a circle of lofty hills on all
sides, and immediately surrounded by a venerable forest.
An ancient avenue of trees leading in a straight line from
the front of the house for half a mile southwestward, is
a particularly striking feature about the place. This
avenue, which has been shut up for about two centuries,
has a spacious entrance gateway with great pillars surmounted with bears supporting shields containing the
Stuart Arms, and on either side are quaint gate lodges.
The house and offices form three sides of a square,
measuring about one hundred feet each way, and inclosed
on the fourth side with a beautiful iron railing. Opposite this, is the main building, four stories high, having
a frontage to the courtyard of about one hundred feet,
and on the outward, or northeast face, of one hundred
and twenty-two feet. The side wings are one story, with
attics. The northwest side has an extra story on a low
fall of land, containing the stables and offices, and a
chapel with sacristy on the floor above. The wing on
the east side contains a brew-house and other offices.
 Chronicles of
On the northeast front of the main building is a high
terrace, seventeen feet wide, with steps leading to a
lower terrace, and the park stretching to the Quair.
The eighth Earl of Traquair never married. When he
died he left the estates of Traquair to his sister, Lady
Louisa, who was also unmarried, and who died in 1876,
aged one hundred years. At her death the press of the
country was filled with anecdotes of the life of this
ancient and highly respected lady, and also the heirship
of James Lewis Corbin Griffin, son of Samuel Stuart
Griffin, and only grandson (of the name) of Cyrus Griffin
and the Lady Christina. The descent was so direct and
close that his right, notwithstanding his being an alien,
was about to be tested by law, but the expense of the
proceedings was so enormous that the effort was paralyzed. An unusual scholar and a modest gentleman, he
died at the house of a maternal kinsman at Lansdown,
Gloucester County, Virginia, and it is from his valuable
papers that this sketch is written.
In Eastern Virginia, about York and Williamsburg,
there is not left one of the name of Griffin. There are,
however, Mercers and Morrisses and Wallers, who are
great-grandchildren of Cyrus Griffin.
James Lewis Corbin Griffin's sister married Stephen
Orrin Wright, of Norfolk, Virginia, and had one child,
Sally Lewis, who married Mottrom Dulaney Bail, of the
same family as Mary Ball, the mother of Washington.
Her son, Mottrom Corbin Ball, of Georgetown, is in truth
next of kin to Charles Stuart, eighth Earl of Traquair.
  Chronicles of The Boit Family
Registry of deeds, March 14, 1781, July 5, 1782, September 5,
1782, September 19, 1782, March 17,1784, July 26, 1784, July 15,
1785, June 9, 1795, August 4,1795, February 16, 1797.
Taking Book, 1784.
Valuation Tax Book 1785, 1786, 1787, 1788, 1796, 1797.
Directory, 1789.
Boston's Inhabitants, 1790.
Marriage Intentions, Vol. VI, September 3, 1789; also May 2,
West Church records, September 27, 1789.
Massachusetts Magazine, March, 1793.
Letters from Sarah R. Chamberlayne, wife of General Chamber-
layne, Cuba, Allegheny Co., New York, a great-granddaughter
of Hannah Atkin's Boit.
I am largely indebted to- Mr. Francis S. Sturgis, for tables of
the Sturgis family.
There are no doubt many other Boston records that I have
failed to examine.
Page 9.
The First Church was the John Cotton Church; first
situated on the present State Street; next in Scollay
Square; next in Washington Street, and then called the
" Old Brick; " next in Chauncy Street; and now at the
corner of Marlborough and Berkeley Streets.
The Second Church was an offshoot of the First
Church, and was the church of the Mathers and
Chandler Robbins. . It was first known as the " New
Brick Church " or the " Second Church." It was first
in Hanover Street; next in Bedford Street; next it
was moved and re-erected (all but its tower) in Copley
Square; next it was situated at the corner of Beacon
Street and Audubon Circle.
Page 141.
Mrs. Louis Agassiz should read Mrs. Alexander Agassiz.


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