Ancestry

A S far as we can trace back the line of our father’s ancestors, they came over from England during the 17th century, with the great body of Friends who left their native land and settled in the newly-founded American colonies, in and around Philadelphia, for the sake of securing religious liberty for themselves and their children. These colonies, in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, on both sides of the Delaware river, were founded by William Penn and other prominent Friends, and were settled almost exclusively, at first, by members of this religious body, who felt that the Lord led them to their new home, not for purposes of worldly aggrandizement, but for religious liberty and progress. Whether our ancestors came over with William Penn, or afterwards, we cannot discover, but in 1688, a few years after Penn’s coming, we find the first mention of a Whitall. In that year, on the 28th of February, James Whitall bought one hundred acres of land of John Ladd, fronting on the southern branch of Gloucester river (Great Timber Creek), where was a dwelling-place and other buildings. The place was called “Upton,” and he lived there with his family some years. The old deeds of this property are recorded in the Books of Deeds in the office of Secretary of State, Trenton, N. J.

The family of Whitalls, several of whom seem to have come over about the same time, were from the neighborhood of Litchfield, Stafford Co., England. An old letter is preserved among us, written by those who remained in England to their relatives in America, where this fact is stated.

Our ancestor, James Whitall, was evidently a man of a deeply religious character, and a zealous Friend, and was doubtless a member of one of those numerous companies recorded in history as ‘’ Quakers of good estate in England; who, unable to find in their own land that spirit of religious liberty which was a fundamental article of their faith, sought an asylum in the western world, hoping to found a state where their children might enjoy that freedom to worship God according to the dictates of their consciences, which had been denied them at home.”

One of these early settlers has left on record the following account of the reasons of their coming:

“Let it be remembered, it having wrought upon the minds of some Friends, and a pressure having laid upon them for some years which they could not gett from under the weight of, until they gave upp to leave their friends and relations att home, together with a comfortable subsistence, to transport themselves and famelys into a

this wilderness part of America, and thereby expose themselves to difficulties, which if they could have been easy where they were, in all probability might never have been met with. * * * And let the rising generation consider that the settlement of this country was directed upon an impulse by the sj.iritts of God’s people, not so much for their own ease and tranquiilitic, but rather for the posterity y’ should be after, and that the wilderness being planted with: good seed might grow and increase to the satisfaction of the good husbandman.”

Such was the stock from wliicli our father sprung — a race of men and women, who, like Abraham, at the call of God, took their lives in their hands, and went out, knowing but little whither they went. And coming from such sturdy stiijf, our father had truly an inherited right to the unusual strength of his character, and the steadfixstnoss of his loyalty to the church which his forefathers had endured so much to establish and preserve.

In 1700, James Whitall sold the estate called Upton
to Kichard Chew, and in the same year purchased four
hundred and eleven and a half acres of land of Henry
Treadway, on the Jersey side of the Delaware river,
about six miles below Philadelphia. This property was
called “Red Bank,” and ho apparently removed here
very soon, as the records show he was residing at Red
Bank in 1704.

His wife was named Hannah, but who she was before her marriage, we cannot now discover. They had three children, Mary, who married John Wood, in 1710; Job, who married Jane Siddon, in 1716, and Sarah, who married Henry Wood, in 1715. James Whitall died in 1714, and left all the Red Bank estate, containing at that time four hundred and sixty-nine acres, to his son Job. His will is among the. records at Trenton, and I insert a copy, as giving an insight into the character of this American founder of our family.

Copy of Will of James Whitall.

r Liber No. 1 of Wills, page 482.

t Office of Sec’y of State, Trenton, N. J.

In the name of God, Amen. The 22nd day of the Fifth month, A. D., 1714, I, James Whiteall, of Eed Bank, in the townsliip of Dedford, County of Gloucester, and Province of New Jersey, being sick and weak of body, but of sound and perfect memory, Praises be given to God therefor; and knowing the uncertainty of this transitory life on earth, and being desirous to settle things in order, do make this my last will and testament in manner and form following. That is to say as touching such worldly estate as the Lord in mercy hath lent me, my will and meaning is, the same shall be employed and bestowed as hereafter by this my will is expressed; and first, I do declare, renounce, and revoke all former wills by me made, either in word or writing, and this only to be taken for my last will and testament. And after my debts are paid ray will is as hereafter. Imprimis: I give unto my well-beloved wife, Hannah, the beds and furniture thai are in the new house, together with the new house during her natural life, together also with the third part of my real and personal estate, viz.: the third part of what it may be accounted worth by the year, as also a mare and side-saddle. Item: I give unto my only son, Job Whiteall, the place and settlement I now live on, commonly called the Red Bank, containing four hundred, sixty and nine acres, as the same is laid forth and bounded, be the same more or less as to quantity, together with two horses, carts and plows, and other materials and utensils for husbandry. And also my will is that he shall have equal shares with his two sisters, viz.: Mary Wood and Sarah Whiteall, that which is not mentioned in this my will of my personal estate. It is also to be tmderstood that the Real Estate I have given and bequeathed unto my son, is to him, his heyers, and assigns forever. Item: My will is that my said son, Job Whiteall, shall pay unto his sister, Sarah Whiteall, the sum of twenty Pounds, Proclamation money, when she arriveth at the age of eighteen years, or otherwise to pay the usual interest until he pays the money. Also to pay on to my grand-daughter, Hannah Wood, the sum of seven Pounds and ten shillings, the like money before expressed, when she arrives at the age of eighteen years. Item: I give and bequeath to my two daughters, Mary Wood and Sarah Whiteall, an equal share with their brother Job of my personal estate that is not before willed by me. I also appoint and constitute my well-beloved wife, Hannah Whiteall, and my son, Job, to be my Executors to this my last will and testament. Performed in witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and seal the day and year first above written.

James Whiteall,

Signed, sealed, published and declared as my
last will and testament in the presence of
us, James Lord, Henry Wood, Thomas Nixon.

Proved the 23d of September, 1714.

The Job Whitall mentioned in this will married Jane
Siddon, in 1716. Nothing especial is known of either
of them, except that they lived at Eed Bank.

Their children were: James, born 9th month, 4th,
1717, died 9th month, 29th, 1808, and Hannah, born
9th month, 9th, 1720.

Job Whitall died 3d month, 19th, 1722, leaving his wife Jane, and his son James, and daughter Hannah, both the children being minors. His widow afterwards married again.

He left the Red Bank property to his son James. His will is to be seen in Liber No. 2, page 202, in the office of the Secretary of State, Trenton, N. J.

James Whitall, son of Job, married on 9th month,
23d, 1739, Ann Cooper, daughter of John and Ann

Cooper, and great-grand-daugliter of William Cooper, of Coleshill, Hertfordshire, England, a Friend, who came over to America in 1678, and settled at first within the town bounds of Burlington, New Jersey, but afterwards removed to a place called Pyne Point, now Cooper’s Point.

As this Ann Cooper is the first one of our female
ancestors of whom any records have been preserved,
and as she was a very original and marked character,
some notice of her family will be interesting.

William Cooper and his wife Margaret were Friends,
and members of the Upperside Monthly Meeting, in
Hertfordshire, England.

John Clement, in his book entitled ‘’ The First Settlers in Newton Township,” has a full account of him, in the course of which he says:

“Like others of the same religious persuasion, William Cooper suffered, both in estate and person, from those who considered that they were doing God’s service in molesting such as chose to differ from them in opinion and practice, — despoiling him of his horses and cattle, and dragging him to prison from the place where he was attending religious service.”

No doubt his coming to this country was from religious causes, as was that of the many other Friends who emigrated about that time. He was a preacher of much eminence, and in the new country became a man of mark, and had much to do with the prosperity of the colony. He lived to see “the success of the doctrines he professed, and their free development in the land of his choice.”

The Certificate of Kemoval issued by the meeting in

England to wliicli he and his family belonged, has been preserved, and is as follows:

“Whereas, William Cooper of Coleshill in ye prsh of Araersham and ye County of Hertford hath signified unto us that he hath an intention if ye Lord permits, to transport himself with his wife and children, unto ye plantation of West New Jersey, and hath desired a Testimonial from this meeting, for ye satisfaction of friends there and elsewhere, unto whom he may be outwardly unknown. We therefore whose names are here underwritten, do hereby certify all whom it may concern, that the said William Cooper and Margaret his wife, having lived in these parts for many years, ever since ye first of their con vincement, have walked conscienceously and honestly amongst us, agreealjly to ye profession and testimony of truth, according to ye best of our observation and knowledge of them.

In witness whereof we have hereunto set our hands this fifth day of ye twelfth month — 1678.

From a monthly meeting at Coleshill aforesaid.”

Our great-grandmother herself thus speaks of another
branch of her family, in a diary she kept in 1761:

“It is with me to write of my grandfathei*, a worthy man he was, the only son of his father and mother, his name was Benjamin Clark, Benjamin and Ann Clark were his father and mother. He wrote much about the negroes and was much concerned about keeping them as slaves, and often six)ke of it to his friends, but few he found then of his mind. I often think of him now that there are so many books put out against keeping them. Both Friends and others have written much. Oh, how glad he would have been to have read them, and have had the company of these Friends that are appointed to go to those who keep slaves among Friends. It is thirty years now since he was so much concerned about them. My father’s name was John Cooper and my mother’s name Ann. His father and mother were William and Mary Cooper, all English people.”

The grandfather, Benjamin Clark, here referred to, who was so much in advance of his generation on the subject of slavery, was born 5tli month, 13th, 1670, and was the son of Benjamin Clark and Ann Phipps, (daughter of Thomas Phipps), who were married at Redding, in Berkshire, England, and must have removed to America soon after. On 12th month, 25th, 1689, their son Benjamin married Ann Giles, daughter of Thomas Giles, of Brandberry, New England. The oldest daughter of this marriage, Ann, born 4th month, 15, 1691, was our great-grandmother’s mother, and married John Cooper, son of “William and Mary Cooper. James and Ann Whitall settled in the Bed Bank homestead. It was during their lifetime that the Revolutionary war took place, and that the battle of Bed Bank was fought upon their land. Fort Mercer, on the Delaware, was on the edge of their farm, and on the 22d of October, 1777, Count Donop, with four battalions, consisting of twelve hundred Hessians, was sent to attack this fort. Their appearance, full-armed for battle, was the first intimation the little garrison in Fort Mercer — consisting of four hundred men — had of the approach of the enemy. They made a brave resistance, and the Hessians were driven back, precipitately, to Haddonfield, with great loss, leaving their commander, Count Donop, wounded, behind them. In Lossing’s “Pictorial Field Book of the Kevolution” there is the following notice of our ancestors:

“A few rods south of Donop’s grave, close by the river bank, is the ancient residence of the Whitall family. It is a two story house, built of brick, and is now (1851) one hundred and three years old. The date of its erection is given on the north gable, where the characters I. A. W., (Jamas and Ann Whitall) 1748, are delineated by dark glazed brick. The Whitalls were Quakers, and of course, although Whigs, took no part in the war. This fact made some suspect the old man of Toryism.”

In the ‘’Eeminiscences of Old Gloucester,” by Isaac
Mickle, lie has in a foot-note the following:

“It seems that Manduit could not comprehend the peace doctrines of the Quakers. Because Mr. Whitall would not doff” his straight coat, shoulder a musket, and go into the fort, the Frenchman jumped at the conclusion that ‘he was a little of a tory,’ and ordered his ’ barn torn down and his orchard destroyed.’”

One cannot wonder, therefore, that when, in the year
1780, this same M. de Manduit paid the old Quaker a
visit, his reception was not of the warmest. In the
travels of the Marquis of Chastellux, printed in Dublin
m 1787, he thus describes this visit:

“We now had to visit Eed Bank. * * * Our conductor was M. du Plcssis Manduit, who, in the double capacity of engineer and officer of artillery, had the charge of arranging and defending this post, under the orders of Colonel Green. On landing from our boat, he proposed conducting us to a Quaker’s, whose house is half a musket shot from the fort, or rather the ruins of the fort, for it is now destroyed, and there are scarcely any reliefs of it remaining. ‘This man,’ said M. de Manduit, ‘is a little of a Tory; I was obliged to knock down his barn, and fell his fruit trees; but he will be glad to see M. de La Fayette, and will receive us well.’ We took him at his word; but never was expectation more completely deceived. We found our Quaker seated in his chimney-corner, busied in cleaning herbs. He recollected M. de Manduit, who named M. de La Fayette to him; but he did not deign to lift his eyes, nor to answer any of our introducer’s discourse, which was at first complimentary, and at length jocose. Except Dido’s silence, I know nothing more severe. But we had no difficulty in accommodating ourselves to this bad reception, and made our way to the fort.”

This ungracious reception was, no doubt, our great-grandfather’s way of bearing his testimony against war, as a consistent Quaker, such being the temper of the times. And it is certainly an amusing picture of sturdy faithfuhiess to conviction, under trying and tempting circumstances.

Lossing’s account continues:

“I was informed by the present owner (Louis Whitall) that when the attack was made upon the fort, and his grandmother was urged to flee from the house, she refused, saying, ‘God’s arm is strong and will protect me; and I may do good by staying.’ She was left alone in the house; and while the battle was raging, and cannon balls were driving like sleet against and around her dwelling, she calmly plied her spinning-wheel in a room in the second story. At length a twelve-pound ball from a Briti-sh vessel in the river, grazing the American flag-staff (the walnut tree) at the fort, passed through the heavy brick wall on the north gable, and with a terrible crash perforated a partition at the head of the stairs, crossing a recess, and lodged in another partition, near where the old lady was sitting. Conceiving Divine protection a little more certain elsewhere, after this manifestation of the power of gunpowder, the industrious dame gathered up her implements, and with a step quite as agile as in youth, she retreated to the cellar, where she continued spinning until called to attend the wounded and dying, who were brought into her house at the close of the battle. She did indeed do good by remaining; for, like an angel of mercy, she went among the maimed, unmindful whether they were friend or foe, and administered every relief to their sufferings in her power. She scolded the Hessians for coming to America to butcher the people, but at the same time she bound up their wounds tenderly, and gave them food and water. *

* * * * jyj. Je Mauduit had Count Donop conveyed into the fort, and the next day to Mr. Whitall’s house, where he attended him until his death, which occurred three days afterward.* * * *

* A foot-note states that Count Donop wa3 removed to a neighbor’s house where he died.

The scar made In’ the passage of that iron ball through the house is quite prominent in the gable. I saw within the house where the miysile cut ofl’ the wood-work in its passage, and where it lodged. On the green between the “Whitall house and the river, lies a portion of an iron cannon, which was bursted during the engagement.”

In the Appendix to “Watson’s Annals of Philadelphia,” page 570, under date of June, 1847, we find the following record:

“The place of Job Whitall (at Eed Bank), now held by his grandson Louis Whitall, is an old family homestead of ninety acres, held upwards of a century. It was first settled by Henry Treadway in 1683; after sixteen years, was bought by the ancestor, James Whitall, and there used as his farm. The large brick house was built there in 1748. * * The present owner, Louis Whitall, has the skull of Count Donop; he took me to his grave — sunken, and marked with a coarse stone, inscribed with his name, when killed, etc. He also led me over the remains of the old redoubt. It was, at the time, in an apple orchard, which was cut down to make room. There are remains of two breastworks — the first one was on too large a scale to man it, and they therefore made a smaller one within the other on one side. The outer fosse is still a deep ditch, and all the premises are now overgrown with tall, thick-set pines and other trees. The monument is placed some distance northward from the redoubt, on the line of the next land owner, as the Whitalls did not wish it on their ground, because of predatory companies visiting the ground and using their melons and fruits.

“Whitall’s house was used as a hospital after the battle. Mrs. Whitall was a character; and when the Hessians complained of being disturbed by heavy foot-falls on the floor, said they must not complain, who had brought it on themselves! She was, however, kind-hearted and useful to them. Her grandson told me in illustration of her strength of character, that one night, while seated at her work, she saw the lower limbs of a thief going upstairs. She followed him up immediately, found him under the bed, ordered him out, led him by the collar down stairs and slapped his face, and hid him begone.”

This spicy old great-grandmother deserves a more extended notice. Her son Job, who was over fifty at the time of the war, and who appears to have lived with his parents and managed the property for them, kept a diary during the years 1775 to ’95, and recorded there the principal events of the battle and their family experiences during the course of it. In ‘’Watson’s Annals of Philadelphia,” Appendix, page 570, there are several extracts from this diary.

We have also among our family papers a quaint old diary kept by our great-grandmother herself during the years 1760, ’61 and ’62, which is in many respects a very rare specimen of the feelings of that time, and which reveals her to have been in truth, as the accounts quoted from above state, a “woman of character.” She was a staunch Friend, and full of zeal for that form of Quakerism which existed in her day and generation — a rather sad and austere religion it looks to us of the present day; but it was grand in its sincerity and earnestness, and our great-grandmother’s journal is not without its lessons for her descendants. A few extracts will give some idea of her earnestness and her vigorous protest against the evils of her time; and if they should cause any of us to smile at her quaintness, let us see to it at least that we are equally earnest in our longings after righteousness, and equally faithful in adhering to our deepest convictions of truth.

Her husband, James Whitall, our great-grandfather, was evidently a man of the world and much less of a religious character than his wife was. His associations were with the gay fox-hunting gentlemen of his neighborhood, and one of his wife’s burdens throughout all the entries in her diary was that the father of her boys did not think it necessary always to go to meeting on First day, nor to make his sons go. But he was evidently a man of unflinching uprightness, and was heartily respected and loved in his own neighborhood. One story is related of him that will illustrate his character. He had exchanged a piece of ground with a Friend who resided at Mt, Holly, and they had made what seemed like a satisfactory bargain to each of them. But on returnino; home at nio-ht our ancestor had become uneasy lest he had over-estimated his own property, and had received too much in exchange for it. He felt so uncomfortable over it, that early the next morning he had his horse put to the wagon, and started off for Mt. Holly to find the Friend, and make some additional compensation. About half-way there, however, he met the Friend, who had experienced a similar uneasiness as to his own part of the bargain, and who was coming to meet him to make a similar compensation. They must have had a hearty laugh together over the coincidence, and no doubt concluded to adhere to the orio;inal baro-ain. He seems to have been a verv capable business man, and -made large purchases of property around the neighborhood. Among other purchases, his wife notices that of League Island, under date of 10th mo. 27th, 1761, which she seemed to fear would add too much to his worldly cares, and be an additional hindrance to his attendance at meetings.

Concerning her diary, she writes on the last page:

‘’This book I wrote for ray dear children to read when I am laid in the grave. It can’t be long I shall be here with them. I often pray for them as for ray own self that they may see and feel their Redeemer to be with them every day they live, and to keep them out of bad company. Oh, I often say, what is this world, or anything in it, except we are fixed upon the Almighty One.”

The following extracts are from the diary which
opens as follows:

“The 7th day of 2nd month, 1760, I begin this book, and was at meeting, and we began to gather money for sweeping the meeting house — nineteen shillings, sixteen more to come. I was very unwell, and often think I can’t live long. I was at meeting First day, and think it is my duty to go to all the meetings I can, and often think of our Saviour what He said to the women, ‘Weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and your children.’ If that was our case, there would not be so much staring about; if we could come to this, to watch and pray always.”

‘’ 10th of 3rd mo., 1760. — As small a meeting as ever I saw to-day, but a good one. I was much reached about myself and children, that I might sit as it were in the dust, crying and praying unto Him that gives us all for strength and help, in meetings and out of meetings. Oh, that we may be always worthy of good meetings. First day I was at home, and it was right cold. Such a snow has not I)een since the hard winter 19 years ago, two feet and six inches high some say. What a snow for the poor durab creatures. I often ihink if the people suffered instead of the poor cattle! Oh, the dismal news of the Indians killing the white people. I don’i know how soon it may be my turn and my poor children’s. Oh, I often think how can people laugh and prate, and lay nothing to heart. It seems enough to make us grieve and mourn always. How many times a day do we praise His mighty Name that gives peace and plenty to us? Do we praise His mighty Name three times a day as often as we eat, or do we sit down and not think of Ilim that gave it? Oh, what a poor crew we are. I say praises be to Him that gives us everything we eat and drink! Oh praises, praises be to His mighty Name all the day long!”

“10th of 4th mo, 1760. — Our friend Mary Carby was here at Woodbury meeting, and Elizabeth Smith from Burlington, and she spoke to us of sleeping in meeting. She felt it among us — some would dress like others and go like them to meeting, but that would not do, for they would be like the foolish virgins who had no oil in their lamps. She told us of them over and over with a great deal of sorrow. What did we do for ourselves, she said, when we were asleep? Oh, this part that never dies! I rejoiced to hear her tell us of sleeping in meeting, being in great hopes it might do some good, and desiring I might be favored with a sense of my own condition, and see my own failings.”

“3rd day of 5th mo. — I did not know but we should have had the house blown down over our heads, for such a storm I never saw. Oh, is it not enough to make everyone tremble when we don’t know but every minute will be the last? But as soon as it is over, then to laugh and mischief again! Oh, oh, what will make the world to leave wickedness! Oh, my heart has ached this day, and I am full of sorrow; and indeed I always am in 6sliingtime, for I think there is so much drinking, and play, and prating that there can’t be much good in their heads. I have not sold them any cider yet; I have no peace to do it, none at all.”

“7th day of esth mo. — Oh, how have I been grieved this day because of this playing of ball and this fishing, and our children with them. I do grieve and shall grieve for my children, and do believe that they that know what it is to be a Q’laker in deed and in truth, they would allow of no such work week after week. What business have we with the world or the wickedness thereof? So much as we are advised to the plain language, and yet I can’t see what odds there is in Friends or in others as to plain language and a plain dress, but go and play ball all day long, and anything that they do think they can’t hurt when they can have as many Quakers as they please at any diversion that they go about. There was J. R. to-day, he said, ‘Come, take a game of ball,’ and there was J. S. and J. C. and J. L. When Ann Lord was here, she did believe it never was harder to bring up children to be good in any age of the world than it is now, and if she was here in fishing time I should have one to help me.”

“12th day of 5th month. — We were at Haddonfield meeting. Hannah Foster spoke and said she had been in company in her spirit with some that had bitters to drink. I thought there was some comfort to be had at meeting if there was none at home, that she should know and feel my trouble and speak so much to comfort one who does go in sorrow and in mourning all the day long, and drink bitters; and I expect no other in this world of wickedness. Oh, I often think if I could so govern myself as never to laugh nor to say one word but what would be of service, but to grieve and ninnrn always for myself and my children and this wicked world.”

“23rd day of 5th mo., 1760. — If I cry every day and complain of the times it is no more than David did. I don’t cry alone now, for I do believe Mary Carby don’t go to one meeting but the tears run down her face plentifully. Oh! I can’t but cry to the mighty One to chain down this roaring lion that seems as if he would destroy all of us in his flood of wickedness. Oh! the emptiness of religion that seems to spi’ead more and more, and foolish prating; if we could turn our minds inward there would be no room for such gas, and if we could wait upon our Maker and Redeemer we should want none but Him for company.”

“The 3rd of 7th mo., 1760. — Hannah and I went to meeting alone, and her father would not go with us; but it is my lot to go alone or none must go. Oh, it is my mind that any may contrive their business so as to go to meeting constantly if they will. But oh, this going when he has a mind, or once a month. When 6th day meeting comes, more earnest then at work than ere a day in the whole week. It makes me sick sometimes to see such doings year after year. Now been married above twenty years, and so cold about religion, and children grown men. Now I will write some out of Matthew Hale — ‘I am to prefer the honor and glory of God before my own honor, reputation, estate, contentment or life itself!’ Now what is the honor and glory of Him that made us? Is it not going to meetings? I know it has cost me dear for staying at home when meeting day comes. I can’t but rejoice and be glad I was there to-day, though I was told I looked so poorly that they thought I could not sit meeting. But I often think that there is most all the comfort that I have, and I don’t expect to see another summer. I am hardly able to go about the house, but my chief concern is about my children. Oh, if they may be preserved out of wickedness! But I think, do I deserve such a favor? No, no, those who are far before me in every respect, their children are not preserved out of wickedness. But there is so much wickedness in this place on everv side. I don’t know what apes we Quakers shall get to.”

27th of 7th mo., 1760. — At meeting I thought it my business to tell K. A. of sleeping in meetings so much as she does. Oh, will nothing rouse us up to more diligence to serve our Maker. O this sleeping in meeting, what a sorrow it is to me to see so much of it; if they would leave off sleeping and go to praying. Hannah and I ‘to meeting alone. Oh, what a sorrowful thing it is to me, so much slackness about going to meeting. And to-day two strangers, Thomas Redmond and Isaac Andrews, and such a meeting it was. Oh, who would not go to meeting, aye, all that come! What is all the week of turmoil to the consolation and comfort of such a meeting; and the excellent advice Thomas gave us about bringing our children to meeting with us. But I am of his mind in that, and have been a many years. It is one of the greatest troubles I meet with. I go with a heavy heart if my children don’t go to meeting nor their father. But I must drink bitters. Oh, the bitters that I have to drink. Oh, the wormwood and the gall, and overwhelmed in sorrow every day I live.”

“14th of 10th mo., 1760. — Our friend Susannah Haddon was here at Woodbury meeting, and spoke a great deal to us about the elders getting too high above reproof, and being a stumbling-block in the way of the youth and the striplings. A sorrowful case indeed to hear of the elders going down hill, for she said they were going down hill if they could not bear a reproof She would have the striplings to fear nothing as David did, and do His will that sent him. Well it is some comfort to hear that there are some in the right way still among ns, after all this trouble we have had, and some for David and some for Saul, as one may say, a divided pack.”

“John Storah told us there would be Deborahs among us. I hope they are on their way, though in a great deal of fear; and well the youth may fear and dread such work among the elders; and I have often thought they were so cross and so crusty, no speaking to them if they do amiss. I think, and often with a great deal of°sorrow, Oh, that self may be kept out of me, and if it gets up in me, that my friends may tell me of it in time before I get so high that J must Ml and go down hill. I think after all my writinc. I am nothing, less than nothing. I was much concerned about my children that they might have some thought of their Maker and their last day. I never ask riches nor honor for my children, but cry to our Maker and Redeemer for His presence to be with them night and day.’’

“21st of 1 2th mo., 1760. — I must write some of my great grief concerning our meeting, how we are stripped and have been for many years- Oh, to look back and think since my remembrance how many have gone — Uncle James Lord, and my father, died; Joseph Gibson went to Salem; Joseph Tomlinson went to Haddonfield; John Wood and young James Lord went to their graves; and so we seem stripped of all that were to do us the most good. Oh, if we had one such member among us as Susanna Haddon or Jane Crosway to help us along; but we are not worthy of such, or it would please the Almighty One to send such a one to live among us. John Storah said there would be Deborahs among us. Shall we be brought out of bondage by a Deborah as the children of Israel were? Oh, who is Deborah, or where is Barak to lead the poor, mournful gang along? Or those who Samuel Nottingham said cried day and night to the Lord? I often wonder who they are, we seem so bad, these Elect that cried day and night to the mighty One on account of their dear children and this wicked world. Oh, this wicked world, to go all day skating after meeting! How can the Lord’s day be spent at such work! Did Judge Hale spend his time so, his precious time? Oh no, but alone by himself praying to the Lord, and writing down some good matter. Oh, how can we spend our time close enough, inward enough, nigh enough to this light in our hearts, this small light that we may see more and more of it every day if we live humble enough and nigh to Him that made us.’

‘’ 10th mo., 1761. — On sixth day in meeting it was much in my mind about Samuel Bownas and his convincement. Oh, the concern I was in, to think of so many that can sit and sleep meeting after meeting, year after year. Oh, if the Almighty One would be pleased to convince many thousands as He did him, to let us see ourselves more and more every day. ‘A traditional Quaker, thou goest from the meeting as thou comes to it; and thou comes to it as thou went from it, having no profit by doing so. But what wilt thou do in the end thereof?’ After Samuel Bownas’ wonderful change, it was but three weeks before he must preach to others to turn them from their sins. I remember this dear friend was at my father’s.”

“Oh, will there ever be a Nehemiah raised at our meeting to mourn and grieve. Oh, the fashions and running into them! The young men wearing their hats set up behind; and next it’s likely will be a ribbon to tie their hair behind; the girls in Pennsylvania have their necks set off witix a black ribbon; a sorrowful sight indeed! But what did that dear friend, Nicholas Davis, tell them? — the old people had not done their duty, and that was the reason that the young were no better. Six of those girls from Darby were here from John Hunt’s, and I thought they did not belong to Friends until I was informed they did. But I many times think, what signifies my being concerned about fashions; where is one Friend’s child or children, but some doddery fashion or another is on their backs or heads. There is this day Josiah Albertson’s son, all the son he has, and his hat is close up behind! If I talk of small matters or little things I am mobbed on every side; but Wra. Hunt told us of the little foxes, little things and small matters in our clothes and furniture.”

“18th day of 3rd mo., 1762. — It is said of the wicked, that they that are full of children, yea, and of children that do survive them too, for they leave their substance to their babes. Full of sin and full of children, and these children live to inherit their parents’ sins and estates together. Is not this the case with us Quakers? Are there not more wicked people than good among us? Oh, lamentable is our case I think! I am so filled with sorrow many times about the wicked. Oh, I think could my eyes run down with tears always for the abomination of the times. So much excess of tobacco; and tea is as bad, so much of it, and they will pretend they can’t do without it; and there is the calico. Oh, the calico! We pretend to go in a plain dress and plain speech; but where is our plainness? Are we not like all the rest, be who they will? What fashion have not the Quakers got, as William Hunt said? Oh that we had many such as he, or enough such, there would be no calico among the Quakers then; no, nor so many fashion-mongers. I think tobacco, and tea, and calico may all be set down with the negroes, one as bad as the other.”

“First day of -Ith mo., 1762. — Elisabeth Estaugh is to be put into the earth to-day. From the earth we come and to it we must go again. I don’t expect to be long before I must go, I am so poorly. I often think if I could so fix it as never to laugh nor to smile I should be one step better. It fills me with sorrow when I see people so full of laugh and talk, and we have the wise man’s opinion that it is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting, and that sorrow is better than laughter.”

“The first day of the 10th mo. was 6th day, and we were at meeting, Hannah and I; but it is a shame to write it, for the boys and their father are so taken up, because the corn is to husk and the wood to go to town. “Well, if the dry weather had killed all the corn, maybe then they would have had time to go to meeting. Oh, this world and the things of it. Oh, that we may be stopped in the lane as Balaam was by his asa he rode upon, or as Pharaoh was in the Red Sea, to know we must go back. We shall know when we must go and leave it all behind us, and we don’t know how soon; then farewell corn, and farewell wood, and farewell company that has taken all my time when I should have been reading or writing some good matter, like Judge Hale, or walking alone meditating some good, as Isaac of old.”

‘’ 21st of 11th mo., 1762. — I have not written any this long time. At meeting now we have a deal of preaching. We have six preachers belonging to our meeting — Isaac Andrews, Ebenezer Miller, James Cooper, Ann Cooper, Mary Sharp, Sarah Weatherbe. Oh, Solomon Lippincott is seven, but I never heard him but once.”

‘’ 12th mo., 31st, 1762. — I find some freedom to write what a terrible thing this eating too much has been to me many times. I think I can say it is the worst sin that ever I did. I do believe it is as bad as drinking too much. Eating too much is the root of all evil in me I do believe. Oh, had I minded it when I was young; but this enemy of our poor souls is always driving us into sin. Oh, that his chain might be shortened one link! It is the last day of this year, and we have been to sixth day meeting, a mournful one to me. Oh, the dread and fear I am in for fear I shall never get out of bondage. Oh, who is out of this sin and transgression that day by day besets UH? I often .say what will become of me? I am so beset on every side. But I had a little comfort at the youth’s meeting, for Mercy Redmond said she was often afraid that she should fall short at the last day and not be careful enough. Oh this wicked world, who can stand it? But Satan hurls them up and down, and there is no place of safety if our mighty Maker and Kedeemer is pleased to draw His hand from taking care of us.”

Our great-grandmotlier’s regular journal closes with this date, but many years afterward she adds the following entries:

“23rd of 6 mo., 1780. — John Tatum is married again this day to Elisabeth Cooper. A clear, pleasant day. A dry time; the grass is dried up in many places. Oh, we want rain; but who is worthy of one drop? We deserve a famine.”

“16th of 5 mo., 1783. — Thomas Ross was at Salem meeting to-day, and it was most done before he stood up. He said he had a most sorrowful meeting. ‘By whom should Jacob arise,’ so dead and so miserable as we were. If preaching would do for us, he said, he thought there was so many for a week-day we should have had a good meeting. He said there is nothing worse than lawful things among Quakers, because they are so taken up with them.”

From these last entries it appears that increasing years brought but little increasing comfort to our poor, mournful great-grandmother, whose burden of sorrow and despair for herself, and her church, and her family was, I expect, a characteristic of much of the religious feeling of the times in which she lived, when it would seem that the peace and joy of a life of trust were hardly proclaimed or understood as fully, as since has been the case. But I am afraid this inward sorrow of spirit somewhat affected her outward manner, for tradition says she was very difficult to get along with, and perhaps her husband and sons had causes for complaint as well as she. And yet they seem to have been warmly attached to her, and our grandfather, who was her youngest son, was very miicli pleased when one of his grandchildren was named Annie, always calling her ‘’ little Ann,” and often speaking of his mother with tenderest affection. There is an authentic tradition that at the very time when she was bewailing the lapsed condition of the young men with their hats cocked up behind, she herself sat under the gallery wearing a straw bonnet lined with pink silk! But this must have been considered plain in those days, for it can hardly be conceived that she would have knowingly departed from the received standards of plainness in her generation, when her whole soul was so exercised over the failures in the Society in these respects.

We sometimes hear in our family circle of a certain characteristic that is called the “Cooper snap.” For a long time we were puzzled to know just what this meant, but since we have discovered this old journal of our great-grandmother Ann Cooper, we begin to think we see a little light on the saying. There was evidently “snap” enough and to spare in her composition, for lar2;e measures to come down to her descendants, and some of us no doubt are, what our dear father would call, “chips off of the old block,” as he himself plainly was. Only in his case this “Cooper snap” was so tempered with a loving tenderness of sympathy for all with whom he came in contact, that it became a most refreshing and invigorating tonic. As a friend has written of him, “What we admired in John M. Whitall was his bold, firm, decisive character, while what we loved was his warm, sympathetic nature; and when any were in need we found these qualities so beautifully fused together as to make him a most valuable and comforting friend and counsellor.”

Our father’s grandmother died in the Eed Bank
house on 9th month, 22d, 1797, and his grandfather
survived her eleven years, living with his son Job, to
whom the Eed Bank property descended, and died
there in 1808.

The property remained in the elder branch of the
family until within a few years, when it was purchased
by the United States Government, for the purpose of
using the earth in raising League Island to a needed
height.

There are many family traditions connected with the place, that would repay the careful search of the antiquarian. I remember as a child being alternately fascinated and frightened with the authentic stories of the ghosts which were said to haunt the old garrets, where the wounded men had been taken after the battle, and where many of them died. And as it does not fall to the lot of every family to have a veritable haunted house in their ancestral records, I cannot refrain from just referring to it in passing for the entertainment of the grandchildren.

The floors of the house in my childhood still showed traces of the pools of blood, which flowed from the wounded soldiers when the necessary amputations were made, and the inmates declared that the heavy tramptramp of the guard could still be heard at times up and down the long garret-room where they had been quartered. Now and then, too, there would be those who felt sure that the ghosts of the officers, in the old courtly uniform, of that day, had appeared to them on the stairways and in the halls. I remember being thrilled, and excited, and fascinated and frightened to the last degree by the story of one of these ‘’eye-witnesses,” who described to me, with great vividness, a ghostly appearance she had once, as she thought, seen in the old guest-chamber of the house. She had gone there as a young girl on a visit, and was treated to this large old room, as an honored guest. Soon after retiring, when the lights had been put out, she thought she heard a rustling noise, and, lifting her head from the pillow, what was her horror to see the window curtains slowly drawn aside, and a courtly-looking Frenchman, with a lady on his arm, dressed in the quaint old costumes of the last century, come out and advance towards the bed. She screamed with fright, and the vision vanished. The family laughed at her fright; but she never could be made to believe that she did not then and there see a genuine ghost, and no inducements could persuade her ever again to enter that room, and scarcely the house I believe.

Another story was to the effect that an uncle of the family, when a young man, was sleeping with a friend in the north-corner chamber, next the river, when they were awakened by the violent rattling of the pitcher in the wash-basin, and heard a rushing sound along the entry, and the door of their room was burst violently open. This happened three times, and frightened them so much, that they covered their heads with the bed-clothes, and lay trembling until morning.

I have heard it suggested by some of the more sensible inhabitants of Eed Bank, that these ghost stories were all fancies of the imagination, and that the noises could easily have been accounted for by natural causes. That the sound of tramping and rustling, for instance, was only the knocking and rubbing of a branch of an old willow tree against a projecting gable, and that when the branch was cut off the noises ceased; and that the walking up and down stairs was the travelling of rats. They say also that the crashing as of a load of stones being emptied on the front lawn, which had so often caused the family to rush out in fright to find no signs of any disturbance, was finally proved to be the rattling of the chains when an anchor was being dropped overboard from some ship in the river, the sound being carried in this wonderful way over the still water to the shore. And no doubt there will be those who will conclude that the rushings along the entry, which so frightened the inmates of the north chamber, were nothing but the wind whistling through the old house. But be this as it may, I cannot but linger lovingly over the stories which the delightful credulity of my childhood made such a fascinating mystery to me; and I shall never think of the old house without a longing that it could be back, with all its traditions, in the possession of the family who founded it.