AND
KING SOLOMON
By
Joseph
Harrison, Jr.
(pub. 1869)
ANCESTRAL NOTES OF THE HARRISON FAMILY
Perhaps, my dear children, I cannot more fitly close this second and revised edition of my ballad than by relating all I can gather about our ancestors. The record is not very full, but still it will, I think, be interesting to you. It is not an unworthy one.
A tradition in our family indicates that we, on the father’s side, are descended from the regicide Harrison, of Cromwellian days. [Please note that I have been unable to find any evidence to substantiate this claim and on the contrary have found some evidence to refute it. John R. Marshall. ]
From old deeds in my possession, I find that my father’s grandfather was William Harrison, of Gloucester county, New Jersey, farmer, and that he owned, in the early part of the eighteenth century, large tracts of land in West New Jersey. They were perhaps of no great money value, but at that time the possession of land, in this then new country, was the standard of wealth in a great degree. No one had much money.
My grandfather, William Harrison, Junior, son of the above William, was born in Gloucester county, New Jersey, about the year 1720. William Harrison, Junior, married in middle life Martha Bowlby, daughter of Thomas Bowlby, of Point-no-Point Farm, Philadelphia county, who was his second wife. Of this marriage came four sons, William, Thomas Bowlby, Joseph, and Samuel; and three daughters, Priscilla, Mary, and Nancy Washington. Martha Bowlby, when married, was 19 years old, and was then noted for her personal beauty. My early remembrance of my grandmother dates back more than 50 years, when she was nearly seventy years old. My mind now brings her up as she looked then, --a most dignified old lady, erect and well favored, with a little coldness in her manner, her presence always putting us on our good behavior. She was a strict Episcopalian, and seemed to have buried her best affections in the grave of her husband, of whom she always spoke as one of the best of men.
My father, Joseph Harrison, was born November 25th, 1778, near Gloucester Point, New Jersey, on the Delaware River. He was one of twins, Joseph and Thomas.
My grandfather, William Harrison, at the commencement of the Revolutionary War, joined the standard of revolt, and raised, at his own expense, a company of militia, of which he was commissioned captain, and served in the field during a great portion of the war. While my grandfather was absent with the army, and when the lower part of New Jersey was overrun by the Hessians under Count Donop, my grandmother and her young family were left unprotected, and suffered great privations. Her house and farm were pillaged several times, about the time of the battle of Red Bank, and some of the people killed on the hearthstone.
At one time my grandmother and her children, to save themselves from massacre, were obliged to flee to the pine forests, burying their valuables by the roadside as they fled. A family Bible, now in the possession of my sister Martha, has the stains of swamp-water on its leaves, received when buried for security. My father was born in the midst of these troubles.
My grandfather was a large land-holder in Gloucester county, New Jersey, when the Revolution began; but neglect of his affairs when absent, and consequent embarrassment, swallowed up most of his estate. Returning home from the army in broken health, caused by exposure, William Harrison died, in 1787, leaving but little for his family. I obtained a pension for my grandmother in 1840, as the widow of an officer of the Revolutionary army, with many years of back pension. She received this pension during the last two years of her life.
My father, after his father’s death, still lived at Gloucester, and when fourteen years old was sent to Philadelphia, and entered the counting-house of Mr. Chas. French, grocer, in Water Street between Arch and Market Streets. He subsequently engaged himself with Saml. Crawford, grocer, southeast corner of Old Ferry Alley, in Water Street below Arch Street. Joseph Harrison, a bright, intelligent young man, whom every one liked for his amiable qualities, growing to manhood, won the hand of my mother, Mary Crawford, his employer’s daughter. They were married August 30th, 1803. Of this marriage came ten children, four sons, --Charles Crawford, Theodore, who died in infancy, Joseph, and Henry Crawford; and six daughters, --Elizabeth Crawford, Martha, Mary Anne, Rebecca Anderson, Eleanor Bowlby, and Maria Isabella. Mary Anne died in 1843; all the rest are now living.
Before my father’s marriage with Mary Crawford, her father, Samuel Crawford, built a store at the northwest corner of Front and Noble Streets, Northern Liberties, in which my father commenced business as a retail grocer, and for some years all went prosperously. Later in life his kindness of heart and good nature induced him to become security for others by indorsement, which led to embarrassment; and about the year 1810 he was compelled to relinquish his store, and never again did business on his own account. When misfortune overtook him, he was obliged to turn his attention to other means of making a living for his then young family. I was born, September 20th, 1810, in this dark hour of our history. My father had much natural ability, and could make himself useful at almost anything.
During the war of 1812, he sailed mate of a coasting schooner, and in this vessel, voyages were made to Norfolk, Petersburg, Richmond, Washington, and Georgetown. Many stories of being fired into by British cruisers, and of “hair-breadth escapes” on the ocean, were told us in our early childhood. I remember one relating to the losing overboard of one of the hands of the schooner in the Delaware Bay. The man’s name was Mechesney, who, in a storm, was thrown into the water by a lurch of the vessel, while at the helm. My father, a small, wiry man, was most intrepid in moments of danger, and, in this emergency, left the vessel in a boat, to rescue the man, who was keeping himself afloat by swimming. It was a dark night, and the man, who had drifted rapidly away, could not be seen, the only indication of his whereabouts being his cries. My father, in leaving the schooner, cried out at intervals, as he rowed, “Mechesney, are you there?” and for some time an affirmative response came back on the waters. The voice grew indistinct, and at length there was no reply. The man was lost. My father, supposed also to be lost, could not board the vessel again for the storm, and passed the rest of the night on shore. In the morning he returned to the schooner alone.
Later in his life, and retaining a character for integrity and faithfulness that always inspired confidence, my father filled several positions of usefulness and responsibility in the employment of others, and until within a few years of his death never was idle. He died December 6th, 1858. My mother died April 12th, 1842.
My mother
inherited a portion of her father’s estate; but the larger part had been
anticipated and lost by my father’s misfortunes. With a large family,
the remnant left did not go far toward its support. Industry, and
an independent spirit in my parents, which was largely instilled into their
children, made up the rest, and, with aid from none, all struggled on cheerfully
and hopefully. The circumstances of our family, after many dark days,
later on, improved from year to year, all helping that were able, and none
doing anything to hinder. My parents lived to see nine of their children
reach maturity, and died surrounded by the comforts that a united family
deserve, and can so well enjoy.
What
shall I say of my mother, who was the guardian spirit of the family?
Unuttered words in the hearts of her children are her best eulogium.
MARTHA BARKER
You have all seen and admired a portrait belonging to me, of a young girl in antiquated dress, sitting under a vine-covered and moss-grown bank, with a Latin Prayer-Book open in her hand. This is a portrait of Martha Barker, taken when she was thirteen years old, daughter of Samuel Barker, gentleman, of the county of Derby, England. This portrait was presented to me by my grandmother Harrison in 1834. It was sent to America at a very early period, and remained in possession of her father, Thomas Bowlby, son of Martha Barker. There once existed in the family a portrait of Thomas Bowlby, the husband of Martha Barker; but it, in some way, was lost after the death of my great-grandfather Bowlby.
Martha Barker was born in the county of Derby, England, about the year 1671, and died in 1751. She married Thomas Bowlby, of Mansfield-Wood House, saddler, in the county of Nottingham, England, and by him had six sons, named, respectively, Samuel, Jordan, George, Thomas, Richard, and John; and three daughters, named Elizabeth, Martha, and Jane.
An old quadripartite deed in my possession, between Mary Bulles, executrix of Samuel Barker, and Thomas Bowlby and his wife Martha Bowlby, and John Bowden and his wife Elizabeth Bowden, recites many names in the Barker and Bowlby families. This deed relates to the division of certain West Jersey lands owned by Samuel Barker at his decease.
My grandmother Harrison, in speaking of her maternal grandmother, Martha Bowlby (after whom she was named, but whom she never saw, as she lived and died in England), told us that her grandmother was noted for being charitable and kind to the poor around her, visiting and ministering to their wants as long as she was able. When old and infirm, she kept medicines and other things, which were freely given to all needy persons who visited her house.
Thomas Bowlby, the fourth son of Thomas and Martha Bowlby, as above, came to America in early life and settled as a farmer. In 1762 he purchased Point-no-Point Farm, a tract of land of about one hundred acres, fronting on the Delaware River, and running back to Frankford Creek, in the county of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, just below the present village of Bridesburg. Situated on this farm, on the west side of Richmond Avenue, and at the present time in good preservation, is the Bowlby Homestead, built by Thomas Bowlby, about the year 1770. My grandmother, Martha Bowlby, was the daughter of Thomas Bowlby, of Point-no-Point Farm, and resided there when she was married to William Harrison, of Gloucester county, New Jersey.
Thomas Bowlby was married twice; his first wife was an Englishwoman, who lived previous to her marriage in New Jersey. By her he left one daughter. His second wife was named Tuley, and came from Virginia. By this second marriage he had two daughters, Martha and Mary. Martha, my grandmother, was born on the 17th of March, 1750, and died November 8th, 1842.
Mary Bowlby, married the Reverend John Hamilton Rowland, a Welshman, who subsequently went to the Southern Colonies, and during part of the Revolutionary War lived in Virginia. By will of Thomas Bowlby, Point-no-Point Farm was left to his three daughters during their lifetime, and afterward, by entail, to their surviving children. My father outlived all his family, and inherited one-third of this farm. It was conveyed to me in 1856, and the purchase money went far toward making my father comfortable in his later years. Point-no-Point Farm is now in my possession, having had but two owners in more than one hundred years.
During the war of the Revolution and thereafter, a frequent visitor at Point-no-Point Farm was the notorious General Lee, an Englishman and a soldier of fortune, who had entered the Continental army, and who received so severe a reprimand from Washington at the battle of Monmouth.
After the war a difficulty arose between General Lee and Colonel Laurens, out of which followed a duel between the parties. Lafayette was the second of Colonel Laurens, and I think the latter was wounded in the encounter. The duel took place in a wood between the then popular garden of Harrowgate and Point-no-Point Road, now Richmond Avenue.
My great-grandfather, being an Englishman, and naturally courteous to his countrymen, had General Lee staying at his house at the time this matter was settled between Lee and Laurens. General Lee was a very rude man, and did much as he pleased at my great-grandfather’s house, with everybody and everything. In his rudeness he would sometimes place his dogs at the table at meals, and he blasphemously named one of them Jesus. Practicing with a pistol at the effigy of a man chalked on the barn, Lee one day missed his aim, and his bullet, flying wild, killed a small pig. Negro Jack, a slave, whom I have often heard my father speak of, came in to his master to report that “Massa Lee had killed the pig, and wished to know what was to be done with it.” “Dress it and have it roasted for dinner,” said Lee, without giving any one else a chance to reply. And it was served up on that day for dinner accordingly.
Thomas
Bowlby was a Tory during the Revolutionary struggle. The Reverend
Mr. Rowland was also inimical to the Continental cause, and being at Point-no-Point
Farm with his wife when Philadelphia was evacuated by the British, he,
with his father-in-law, to avoid arrest, fled from home, and were secreted
out of the way, in a place of security, leaving the house in charge of
Mrs. Rowland and her eldest sister. During the reoccupation of the
city by the Continental troops, two American officers were quartered at
the Bowlby Homestead. On their arrival, they were somewhat rude and
peremptory in their demands to know where the men of the house were.
The ladies refused to tell. The officers still insisting, the elder
sister said to them, “We are ladies, and demand such treatment at your
hands as will prove to us that you are gentleman.” This rebuke changed
the tone of the two officers, and they were civil and courteous thereafter.
ANCESTRAL NOTES OF THE CRAWFORD FAMILY
John Crawford, the first in this part of my history, came to the colonies from the Isle of Man, and settled as a farmer in Gloucester county, West New Jersey. His son Henry married Elizabeth McCulloch, by whom he had several children, one of whom was my grandfather, Samuel Crawford. Mole Hill Farm, situated just south of the White Horse Tavern, in Gloucester county, belonged to Henry Crawford, who was a well-to-do farmer of those days; and here Samuel Crawford was born, May 5th, 1759.
My grandfather married Elizabeth Hillman, born in 1764, daughter of Joab Hillman, farmer, of the same county, in West New Jersey. Of this marriage came seven children: four sons, William, Charles, Samuel Hillman, and Henry McCulloch; and three daughters, Mary, Rebecca, and Elizabeth. My mother, Mary Crawford, born January 16th, 1783, was their second child. Soon after my mother’s birth, her father, thinking, as a member of a large family, that his chance of being anything but a poor farmer all his life were more than probable, and having an independent spirit, concluded to try his fortune in the city, then, as now, the goal of every young countryman’s hopes. He came to Philadelphia, with his young wife and child, about the year 1785; and I have often heard my mother say that his fortune, when he made this important step, was the horse that took him and his little family to town, with money enough to buy a dray. Samuel Crawford’s first effort at making a living in Philadelphia, was by placing himself with a horse and dray on Arch Street wharf, then an active shipping point. And there occurred an incident which lets us into his character somewhat, and will serve to show why he succeeded later in life. No doubt my grandfather appeared with all the necessary credentials of license, etc.; but still he met with much opposition among the men already on the stand, and a great Irishman, the champion of the rest, was detailed to thrash the Jerseyman and drive him off. Samuel Crawford was a strong, short, thick-set, active man, and had not lived to manhood in New Jersey, without having learned to defend himself. The big Irishman commenced the conflict; but, before he well knew where he was, my grandfather, by his activity and skill in handling himself, gave him such a drubbing, as induced his own comrades to hoot him from the spot, and the victor was taken into the fraternity at once, and made the champion of the stand. My grandfather subsequently saved his Irish antagonist from accidental drowning, and thereby made him ever after a fast friend. From this beginning Samuel Crawford became the owner of many drays and horses, and soon purchased, from his gains, the property and house on Noble Street, where he lived subsequently, and where I was born.
In the Federal Procession, Samuel Crawford represented his fraternity, and drove a dray loaded with barrels of flour. My mother was old enough to remember this, and often spoke of how gaily man, horse, and flour-barrels were dressed in ribbons, on this great occasion.
Samuel Crawford rose subsequently to comparative affluence, and at his death was the owner of the store at the southeast corner of Water Street and Old Ferry Alley, including the wharf on the Delaware, as well as the houses and ground on Noble Street. On the Old Ferry property my grandfather built a large warehouse, which stood far out on the wharf in my remembrance, but was taken down to open Delaware Avenue. I have heard my mother say there was some trouble with the foundations of this building, and that her father, in efforts to remedy this, took a cold, which caused the illness that terminated his life. He and my grandmother were members of the Free Quaker Meeting House at Fifth and Arch Streets, now occupied by the Apprentices’ Library. My grandfather died in 1808, leaving a moderate fortune to his widow and children. He left some interest in his father’s estate to his heirs, a portion of which came to my mother many years after her father’s death.
How well I remember my grandmother Crawford, in the plain Quaker dress, which she always wore! I was a favorite of hers, and lived with her in my early boyhood several years. Some of my sunniest hours were spent in these years.
My grandmother Crawford was short and slight in person, but with a cheerful and quiet character that won all hearts. She was well known as Neighbor Crawford; and it seemed to me, in my childhood, that she was grandmother to everybody. There was a pretty garden attached to her house in Noble Street, and my grandmother was never more happy than when she had a group of young people around her, enjoying the beautiful flowers and her pleasant society. She died in 1832.
I remember both my great-grandparents on my mother’s side, --my great-grandfather by a single circumstance.
When a little boy, visiting Mole Hill Farm with my mother, it chanced that my eldest brother Charles, and other children, with myself, were engaged in beating apples from the trees of an orchard near the house, when the old gentleman called loudly to us over the fence to stop our doings, which we did, much frightened at his unexpected appearance. It might have been that the apples were unfit to eat; but I only remember the scolding.
My great-grandmother comes up before me more distinctly. When about ten years old, and on a visit to Ephraim Hillman, my great-uncle, not far from Mole Hill Farm, I drove my great-grandmother, in a country cart, several miles from where she lived, to the house of Ephraim Hillman, and back. She was then, although nearly ninety years old, a fine specimen of advanced womanhood; tall, erect, with much dignity in her appearance. I saw her after this, for a year or two before her death. A sister of my great-grandmother, and several of her brothers, went West at an early period. One of the latter was killed by the Indians.