.B97 I Copy 1 ^n.^ ,^ V.rt«»' ^LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.} # I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. | iS LEVI HANFOKD N A R M A T I V E LIFE AND ADVENTURES I>EVI llANFORD, SOLDIER OF THE REVOLUTION. CHAHLES I.' BUSIINFLL NEW YORK; ^' PRI VA-'^KI^V FUINTK.D. 1863. t Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by CHARLES I. BUSHNELL, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. INTRODUCTION. ERT few of tlio present generation ap- preciate the sufferings and sacrifices which were made by our forefathers in t!ie war of the Kevolution. While wc enjoy the blessings which have descend- ed to us, we little think of the immense cost at which they have been obtained. Tiiose gallant, patriotic men, to whose noble and unselfish cflbrts we owe our present happiness and prospcritj', are eminently w-orthy, and ought ever to receive our warmest admiration, gratitude and love. It is for the purpose of perpetuating the memory of one of these noble soldiers that the following memoir is printed. Serving through the entire period of the war (if the Revolution, it was his lot to endure more hard- ships and privations than is usual to fall to the lot of IV INTRODUCTION. man. Although the trials he met with wove many and severe, j-ct he bore them all with patience and fortitude, contenting himself with the patriotic reflection that his loss would be his country's gain. In the following narrative will bo found a particular account of the dangers he passed through and the suf- ferings he endured. Known too long and too well ever to be charged with or even suspected of the least ap- proach to duplicity or deception, every reliance can be placed upon the truth of the statements it contains. In the Appendix are added some explanatory notes, elucidating the text, to which the attention of the read- er is directed. In conclusion, wo would here express our acknowledgments to William B. Hanford, Esq., the son of the subject of the memoir, for the materials from which the present pamphlet has been compiled. X A R R A r 1 \- !•: . EVI IIAXFORD was the son of Levi IliinforJ, (') a respectable fanner of Xorwallc, (■) Connecticut ; ami the maiden name of his mother was Elizabeth Carter. They were the owners of good farms and mills. They were pious Christians, sincere and devout, and were, for many years preceding their deatli, strict members of the Baptist Clnircli. Mv. IlanforJ was a man of gooii mind, but of a quiet and domestic turn. He was the lineal descendant of Rev. Thomas Ilanford.C") a Congregational clergyman, who emigrated to this country from England about the year 1G42, and set- tled in Norwalk, where he was, for some forty years, the established minister. 6 XAKRATIVE. The subject of this memoir w;is born in Norwalk, on tiie 19th day of September, 1759. He had two brothers, one older and the other younger than himself. His eldest brother, Ebenezer, had poor health during much of bis life. His youngest brother, John, upon arriving at sufficient age, enlisted in the Continental service, in which he remained to the termination of the war. He was engaged in some of the hardest-fought bat- tles of the Revolution, and was cousidered a good soldier. He was brave and determined, and thor- oughly reliable, and was therefore generally one of those who were selected when any important or daring duty was to be performed. There were two sisters in the family ; Polly, the youngest of whom, died at an early age. Elizabeth, the eldest sister, married Capt. Isaac Keeler,(') who served in the Continental army to the termination of the war. There was little in the early history of Levi Hanford worthy of record. The days of his child- hood and youth were mainly spent at school, or Avith his father, on the farm, or in the mill. The advantages for education in those days, aa compared with the present time, were, at the best, but very NARRATIVE. i limited. Schools and acadeniics were but few and far apart, and there being but very few public libraries, access to books was extremely diflicult. Even among the literary and wealth.y, the supply was but meagre. In addition to this, the troubles with the mother country broke in upon and entirel}' disarranged, if not destroyed, what little organiza- tion had before existed. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that young Hanford, who like many otliers of that day, could only attend school during the winter months, being engaged in the summer and autumn in the occu[)ations of the farm, made but slow progress in his studies, and that his early education was, therefore, but very limited. This loss, however, he afterwards retrieved to a great extent by constant study, and by reading and con- versation acquired considerable general knowledge, so much so that he became, in after life, somewhat noted for his acquirements and general intelligence. Although the mental training of young Hanford was deficient, this was not the case with his moral education. Brought up under the constant eye of his parents, who were eminently [lious and devout, he received cverv attention, and under their care- O NARRATIVE. ful teachings and guided by their example, he early acquired those moral and religious principles which laid the foundation of his character, and governed his acts through life. Towards his parents, his thoughts were often turned in after j'ears, as well as in youth, holding and cherishing for them always the strongest attachment, and never alluding to or speaking of them but with the most reverent affec- tion and regard. Among the prominent traits which distinguished young Hanford from his comj^anions, were his un- tiring perseverance and energy of character, enab- ling him to overcome and triumph over obstacles at which most men would stand appalled . Although possessed of courage that was equal to any emer- gency, yet in his disposition he was humane and charitable, in his intercourse modest and unassum- ing, and in his bearing meek, gentle, and conciliat- ing. In addition to these qualities, he was endow- ed by nature with a remarkable degree of coolness and self possession which seldom, if ever, forsook him even under the most trying circumstances. In the month of September, 1775, Hanford arrived at the age of sixteen, and was then eligible to per- NARRATIVE. 9 form military duty and bear tlie hardships of the camp. The battles of Concord(') and Lexington(') had been fought, and the bravery and valor of the American soldier fully proved and substantiated. The glorious capture of Ticonderoga(') had taken place. That strong fortress, hitherto deemed im- pregnable, had been surprised and had fallen, and the name of Ethan Allen(°) and the praise of his Green Mountain boys(') was upon every tongue. The flower of the British army had been opposed, and Britisli pride had been more than humbled upon the bloody field of Bunker Hill("). Twice had those haughty red-coats advanced to the assault, and twice had they been, by raw militia, ignomini- ously repulsed. No wonder then that pride sat upon every face, that joy filled every heart, and that shouts of triumph rang through the excited land. Roused by the common feeling and stimulated by the example of those around him, but no more so than by the natural emotions of his own patri- otic heart, Hanford was not long idle. He soon shouldered his gun, and in the year 1776 became enrolled in a company of minute-men under the com- mand of his maternal uncle, Capt. John Carter("). 10 NARRATIVE. He^\'as liable as one of snob to be called upon for service at a moment's notice, communicated sometimes b,y arranged signals, sucb as tbc ringing of bells, the firing of cannon, or the tap of the drum, and sometimes, in cases of extreme necessity, by expressmen, who rode at full speed in all directions to summon them forth. These minute-men would sally out, armed and equipped, all repairing to a common rendezvous as fast as they received the order, those going first who were first notified, and the others following and falling in the ranks as they arrived on the ground. His duties as a minute-man were to keep guard along the coast of Long Island Sound and its vicinity, to prevent the carrying on of illicit trade, the landing of Tories, Cow-boys(''), and others on expeditions of plunder, to arrest Tories and those who should attempt to join the British, and in general to be ready to repel the attack of any hostile party that might appear. — Such attacks were about that time very frequent, being generally made by squads who came from Long Island in whale-boats, who, after plundering and burning and destroying what they could, would then flee back to a place of safety before a sufficient NAKRATIVE. 1 1 force could be collectcil to piiiiisli tlicir audacity. — In addition to this kind of service, volunteers were often called for, and Hanford would frequent- ly enlist, sometimes for a few months, but oftener for still shorter periods. In the spring of the year 17T(>. he wiih others was sent under the command of General Lee("), for a few weeks' service, to New York, to defend that city against an anticipated attack from the enem}-. Upon bis arrival, be was one of a detachment of men that was sent to Gov- ernor's Island(") for the purpose of breaking ground there, and erecting fortifications. It was on a dark and stormy night. Guards were placed around the Island to keep a look-out for danger and prevent surprise. Some British men-of-war were lying oif in the harbor. They mistrusted that there was something going on upon the Island, and had ac- cordingly sent off their small boats to reconnoitre. These reconnoitering parties would row up as near to the shore as the)' dared, and when they came within hailing distance, the sentinel on shore would hail them, and receiving no answer, would fire upon them, upon which the crew would immediately haul off, and make their appearance at some other place, 12 NARRATIVE. when the same results would again follow. In this manner the night was spent. On the following morning the men were withdrawn from the Island, and in the evening they were again returned to it and the work resumed. He was engaged in tliis manner during his staj' in New-York, which lasted only about one month, at the expiration of which time he left the city and returned to his home. In the month of October, 1776, Hanford enlisted in a troop of horse, commanded by Captain Seth Seymour("), whose duty it was to guard and pro- tect the sea-coast. On the thirteenth day of March, 1777, he together with twelve others of the troop, was detached as a guard and stationed at South Norwalk, Connecticut, at a place then called " Old Well." The night was dark and the weather inclement, and the officers in consequence, negligent in their duties. In the course of the evening they were entirely surround- ed b}' a part)' of British and Tories, from Long Is- land, who came over in whale-boats, and tlie vvhole guard were taki n prisoners, poor Hanford among the rest, he being at that time but an ignorant boy, a little over seventeen years of age("). NAURATIVE. 13 The prisoners were conve3'od across the Sound to Huntington,(") from there to Flushing(") and thence to Xew-York. Upon their arrival in the city of New-York, they were incarcerated in the old Sugar House prison in Crown, now Libertj^-street, near the Dutch CImrch, at that time used as a ri- ding-school for the Britisli light horse, but of late years converted to, and still used as the General City Post Office("). The old Prison, which is now torn down, was a brown stone building, six stories high, — but the stories were very low, and the windows small and deeply set, making it very dark and confined. It; was originally built for a sugar refinery, and had been previously used as such. Attached to it was a small yard, and the whole was enclosed by a high board fence, so that the general appearance of the building was extremelj' gloomv, and prison-like('"°). Upon our entrance into this miserable abode, says Hanford, we found some forty or fifty prisoners, all of whom were in a most wretched, emaciated and starving condition. The number of these poor sufferers was constantly being diminished by sick- ness and death, and as constantly increased b}' the 14 NARRATIVE. accession of new prisoners to the number of four hundred to five hundred. Our allowance of provi- sions was a scanty supply of pork and sea-biscuit — so scanty that the quantity would be far from keep- ing a well man in strength. The food, moreover, was anything else than of a healthy character.^ — The pork was old and unsavorj', and the biscuit was such as had been wet with sea-water, and be- ing damaged, was full of worms and A^ery mouldy. It was our common practice to put water into our camp-kettle, then break up the biscuit into it, and after skimming off the worms, to put in the pork, and then, if we had fuel, to boil the whole together. The indulgence of fuel was allowed to us only part of the time. On occasions when it was precluded, we were compelled to eat our meat raw and our biscuit dry. Starved as we were, there was noth- ing in the shape of food that was rejected, or that was unpalatable. Crowded together within our narrow abode, with bad air to breathe, and such food to eat, it was not strange that disease and pestilence should prevail, and that too of the most malignant character. I had not been long confined before I was taken with \ NARRATIVE. 15 the small pox, and conveyed to the small pox hos- pital("). Fortunately, I had but a slight attack, and was soon enabled to return to the prison. — During ray confinement, however, I saw cases of the most malignant form, several of my companions dying in that building of that liorrible disease. — When I came back to the prison, I found that others of our company had been taken to the different hospitals, there to suffer and die, for few of them were ever returned. I remained in the prison for a while, until from bad air, confinement, and un- healthy diet, I was again taken sick, and conveyed to the Quaker Meeting Hospital, so called from its having been used as a place of worship by Chris- tians of that denomination("). I became iusensible soon after my arrival, and the time passed b)' unconsciously untill I began slowly and by degrees to recover my liealth and strength, and was then permitted to exchange once more the hospital for the prison. Upon my return to the Sugar House, I found that during my absence, the number of my companions had become still further reduced by sickness and death, and that those who survived were in a most 16 NARRATIVE. pitiful condition. It was really heart-rending to see those poor fellows, who but a short time before were in the bloom of health, now pale and thin, weak and emaciated, sail and desponding, and appa- rently very near their final end. While the poor prisoners were tlius pining away by degrees, an in- fluence was constantly exerted to induce them to enter the Tory regiments. Although our suffer- ings were intolerable, and although we were urged to embrace the British cause bj^ those who had been our o\vu townsmen and neighbors, and had themselves joined the Royal ranks, yet the instances were very rare that they could induce any one of those sufferers to hearken to their persuasions. — So wedded were they to their principles, so dear to them was their countr}', so true were they to their honor, that rather than sacrifice them, they pref'ei'- red the scoffs of their persecutors, the horrors of their dungeon, and in fact, even death itself. On one occasion, I heard a great noise and up- roar in the prison, accompanied b}* loud cursea and threats of vengeance. Upon inquiry, I learned that the guard had been stoned while at his post of duty, and that the prisoners were charged with NARRATIVE. 17 the oftence. This act having been repeated on one or two subsequent occasions, the British Comman- der at length came into the prison 3'ard with a body of men. He questioned the prisoners very closely, but could elicit nothing that would implicate any one. He then told the prisoners that if the act was again committed, and the aggressor not reveal- ed, the guard should fire upon the prisoners, when the innocent would suffer with the guilty. The following day, while I was standing in the prison yard, I saw a person come to a third-story window of a neighboring house, and partially concealed be- hind a chimney, waited until the sentry on duty had turned his back and was marching from him, when stepping from his place of concealment so as to get the full use of his arm, he hurled a brick bat at the sentry, striking him in the back, and injuring him severely. The guard were in an instant turned out and marched to the prison yard. The gates were thrown open, and the guard stood ready to fire. There was now no time to be lost, so I at once communicated what I had seen. The gates were thereupon closed, and the guard marched to the building where the man had appeared. After 18 NARRATIVE. a terrible uproar, with loud sweariug and cursing, the guard at length retired with one or two pris- oners in their custodj'. What became of them I never knew. Nothing concerning them was ever revealed to us. However, there were no more com- plaints made, after this, of the stoning of the sentry. The sentries, as a bod}', were not only ungener- ous and uncivil, but unfeeling and tyrannical, and committed many acts of wilful, wanton cruelty. — They considered anything short of death, to rebels, as humanity. This feeling was far more prevalent among the British than among the Hessians ; and hence, when the prisoners desired any favors, they deferred asking for them until the latter had the guard, which was two days out of every five. Occa- sionally, a humane man was on duty, but he was re- strained from obeying his natural impulses through fear of tlie official power above him. The orders under which they acted were absolute and impera- tive, and a disobedience of command or a derelic- tion of duty were sure to be followed by severe and immediate punishment. I shall never forget a striking instance of this which occurred during my captivity here. NARKATIVK. I'J In the prison yard there was a large bar of pig- i ron, which the prisoners, for pastime, would amuse themselves b^- throwing, and their contests for superiority would often be attended by considera- ble excitement. One day, while they were thus engaged, the sentry on duty, a stout, good natured man, after gazing for some time upon tlie perform- ances of the prisoners, became at length emulous of their eflbrts, and, upon the impulse of the mo- ment, ventured to enter the list and compete with them. Laying down his gun, he made one trial, and coming but little short of the best of them, was encouraged to try again. Tlirowing off his cart- ridge box and bayonet, he again grasped the bar, and though he did better than before, yet he still fell short. Stimulated by his success, and deter- mined to gain his point, he now threw off his stock and coat. At this instant, an officer suddenly came in, and noticing the condition of the sentinel, said to him in a stern, authoritative tone, " Walk this tvciTj, sir." They left the prison together, and we learned that for this breach of duty, the sentinel was sentenced to run the gauntlet and receive three hundred lashes. 20 NARRATIVE. On the following day, a company of men were drawn up in double line, facing each other, and in full view from the prison. Each man stood a little from bis neighbor, and each was armed with a raw hide. "When everything was ready, all the drum- mers of the regiment, beating the long roll("), enter- ed the lines, followed by an officer, with a drawn sword under his arm, the point turning backward. Then followed the prisoner, having nothing on but his breeches, and behind him came another officer with a drawn sword. As the prisoner passed through the lines, each man in succession gave him a severe blow with his raw hide. After he had passed, he then had to turn back again and retrace his steps, and thus walk up and down until the whole number of lashes was given. On the outside of each line an officer marched opposite the pris- oner, and if any act of favor was shown, or if any man gave the prisoner a less forcible blow than he could have done, the officer would strike him so severely with the flat of his sword that he would almost bring him to the ground. Under this dreadful trial the prisoner at first walked firmly and erect, but he soon began to NARRATIVE. 21 queck and drodp, tlion to writlic aiul coiivnlso, until at length bis lacerated body was thrown into con- tortions, and was litcrail}' streaming with bloo'l. — Sometimes he would receive ablo^v upon his breast, then upon his back, and then upon his head or legs, according as iiis body happened at the time to be I^laced. Tlie scene was one of most barbarous cruelty, and ended, as might well be supposed, in the miserable death of the poor, offending sentinel. Notwithstanding the sufferings we endured, and the rigorous treatment to which we were subjected in the prison, we were not without some friends and sympathizers. Among these, there was a ladv, a Mrs. Spicer, who resided in the city, and wlio was a warm friend to the cause of liberty. She took a deep and lively interest in the condition of the prisoners, and visited the hospitals and prisons almost daily. She was esteemed by tlie prisoners as a mother, and lier visits anxiously looked for, and received, always, wAh a warm and hearty wel- come. She came, Tiot alone, with the clear, mild sunshine. She came with the howling storm, and the whistling wind, and the pelting rain. The risk of contagion and death, even, could not deter her 22 NARRATIVE, from her noble, saint-like mission. She came as a ministering aagel, comforting the sick, sympathiz- ing with the distressed, and performing many acts of kindness and mercy. What became of her, or where she lived, I never could learn. I made many efforts, after the war, to ascertain, but never with success. Although she has long since passed away, and her acts were unknown to public ear, yet many a poor prisoner has poured forth his blessings upon her. The memory of that stranger's kindness will live in many a heart until life's last pulse shall cease to beat. Her deeds of mercy, though unrequited here, have not been lost. They have been record- ed in a higher sphere, where she will receive a great and glorious reward. I remained in the prison until the twenty-fourth day of October, when the names of a company of prisoners, mine among the rest, were taken down. We were informed that the time had arrived for us to return to our homes. We became, at once, ela- ted at the prospect of a speedy release. Our feel- ings immediately started up from the depths of despair. We joyfully drew our weekh' provision. NAnRATIVE. 23 and cheerfully divided it among our starving asso- ciates, from whom we were so soon to take our leave. But, alas ! little did we dream what a cruel destiny was in store for us. How bitter, how ag- gravating to us was tlu:". disappointment when we found that, instead of being returned to our homes, we were to be removed only to undergo still fur- ther torments. We were put on board the prison- ship Good Intent("), then lying in the North River, and reported there with one week's provisions. The scene of starvation and suffering that follow- ed, it is impossible to conceive, much less to des- cribe. Crowded together as we were with over two hundred in the hold of the ship, the air was exceedingly foul, close, and sickening. Everything ■was eaten that could possibly appease hunger. — From these and other causes, and enfeebled as we had become, and reduced as we were by famine, no wonder that pestilence in all its fury began to sweep us down. To such an extent did this prevail that in less than two months' time our number was re- duced by death to scarcely one hundred. In addi- tion to all this we were treated with the utmost severity and barbarity. Even the smallest indul- 24 NAREATIVE. gence was naost rigidly denied. In the month of December following, the river began to freeze, when, fearing some of the prisoners might escape upon the ice, the ship was moved round to the Wallabout, where lay also the Jerss}', another pri- son-ship of horrific memory, whose rotted hulk still remained, till within a few years past, to mark the spot where thousands of brave and devoted martyrs j'ielded up the precious offering of their lives, a sacrifice to British cruelty("). Here again, I became sick, and my name was again taken down for the hospital. The day before New Year's, the sick were brought out, and placed in a boat to be conveyed to the city. The boat had lost a piece of plank from her bottom, but the aperture was filled up with ice ; we were taken in tow and proceeded on our course. The motion of the water soon caused the ice to loosen, and our boat began to leak. We had gone but a short dis- tance when the sailors inquired " tvhefher we leak- ed.''' Our men, either from pride, or from an un- willingness to betray fear, replied, " hut u mere trifle.''' The sailors, however, soon perceived our increased weight. They pulled hard for a while. NARRATIVE. 25 aud then lay to until wo came np witli theni. Our boat was at that time half filled witli water. AVlien the sailors perceived our condition, they vented their curses upon us, and with horrid oaths aud imprecations, pulled for the nearest dock, shouting for help. When the boat reached her destination, she struck level with the w-ater, and we were com- pelled to bold on to the dock and to a small boat by our side, to prevent her from sinking. It being low water, the sailors reached down from the dock, aud clenching our hands, drew us up in our turu. I well remember that I was drawn up b}' them_with such violence that the skin was taken from my chest and stomach. One poor fellow, who was unable to sit up, we had to haul upon the gun- nel of the boat to keep his head out of water. Not- withstanding this, he still got wet, and died in a few minutes after he was placed on shore. From the boat we were taken to the Hospital in Beekman-street, known as Dr. Rogers', afterwards Dr. Spring's Brick Meeting House("). While pass- ing through the yard, 1 took up one end of a bunk from which some person had just been taken, dead. I carried it into the church, and threw myself upon 26 NARRATIVE. it, perfectly exhausted and overcome. Tlie head nurse of the hospital, passing by, saw and j^itied my situation. She made me some warm tea, and pulling oS the blankets from the poor, sick Irish, i-egardless of their curses and complaints, piled them upon me until I began to sweat profusely, and fall asleep. The females who acted as nurses in the hospitals were many, perhaps most of them, the wives of Brit- ish soldiers. Although thej' committed no designed acts of cruelty, yet many of them showed in their treatment of us much indifference and neglect. When I awoke in the morning, some mulled wine and water was given to me. Wine and some other things were sent to the sick by our government. — As for the British, they furnished nothing. After taking the wine, I became refreshed. I lay perfectly eas}', and free from pain. It seemed to me that I had never been so happy before in my life, and yet I was still so weak that I could not have risen from my bunk unaided even though it had been to "save the vniou."* The doctor in attendance was an American surgeon, who had been taken prisoner. * This was Haotbrd's own esiiression. NARRATIVK. 'J i lie liail l)i>on taken fVoin tlic [irison and transforred ti) tlio liiispital to attend the sick. Upon examin- ing nil', liij told me that my blood was breaking- down and turning to water, from the effect of the small pox, and that I needed some bitters. I gave liini wiiat money I had, and he prepared me some, and when tiiat was gone, he was good enough to supply me some more at his own expense. Under his kind treatment and professional skill, I began slowly, and b}' degrees, to regain my strength, and in course of time, was once more able to walk about. Wliile standing, one day, in the montii of May, by the side of the churdi, in the warm sun, my toes began to sting and pain me excessively. I showed them to the surgeon when he came in, and he laid them open. They had been frozen, and the flesh had become so wasted away that only the bone and the tough skin remained. I had, in consequenc of my feet, to remain in the hospital fur a long time, and of all places, tiiat hospital was least to be coveted. Disease and death reigned there in all their terror. I have had men die by the side of me in the night, and have seen fifteen dead bodies, at one time, sewed uj) in their blankets and laid in the 28 NARRATIVE. corner of the yard, the product of one twenty-four Lours. Every morning, at eight o'clock, the dead cart came, and the bodies of those who had died the day previous were thrown in. The men drew the rations of rum to which. they were entitled, and the cart was driven off to the trenches of the fortifica- tions, where they were hastily covered, I cannot say interred. On one occasion, I was permitted to go with the euard to the place of interment, and never shall I forget the scene that I there beheld. The}- tum- bled the bodies promiscuously into the ditch, some- times even dumping them from the cart, then threw upon them a little dirt, and away they went. I could see a hand here, a foot there, and there again a part of a head, washed bare by the rain, and all swollen, blubbering, and falling to decay. I need not add that the stench was anything but toler- able ("). The use of my feet having become restored to me, I was again returned to the prison in Liberty- street, and from this time forward, I enjoyed com- fortable health to the close of my imprisonment, which took place in the mouth of May following.— NARRATIVE. 29 Olio (Iny, wliile I was staiuling in the yard, near the liigli board fence which enclosed tlie prison, a man passed by, in tlio street, and coming close to tlio fence, witiiout stopping or turning liis luMd, said in a low voice, " General liurgotjne is taken ic'itli all his armij. It is a truth. You may clejtend upon !7."('') Shut out, as we were, from all infor- mation, and all knowledge of what was going on around us, this news was grateful to us indeed, and cheered us greatly in our wretched abode. Kept in entire ignorance of everything occurring beyond the confines of our miserable prison, we had been left to the most gloomy fears and forebodings as to the result of our cause. We knew not whether it was still progressing, or whether resistance liad ceased altogether. Of the [irobability of our gov- ernment being able to exchange or release us, we knew nothing. What little information we receiv- ed, and it was very little, was received only tlirough the exiiggerations of British soldiery, and could. therefore, be but very little rclit;d upon. How grateful tlien to us was the news which we had just heard — how sweet to our ears, how soothing to our hearts! It gave us the sweet consolation tiiat our 30 NARRATIVE. cause was still triumphant, and cheered us with the hope of a speedy liberation. It is fortunate, how- ever, that our informant was not discovered, for if he had been, he would most probably have been compelled to have run the gauntlet, or to have lost his life for his kindness. One day, I think it was about the first of May, two officers came into the prison. One of them was a sergeant by the name of Wallyf"), who had, from some cause or other, and what 1 never knew, taken a deep dislike to me. The other was an offi- cer by the name of Blackgrove. They told us that there was to be an exchange of those prisoners who had been the longest confined, and thereupon they began to call the roll. A great many names were called to which no answers were given. Their owners had already been exchanged by that Being ^vho has the power to set the captive free. Here and tiiere was one left to respond. At last my name was called. I attempted to step forward and answer, when Sergeant Wally turned, and frowning upon me with a look of demoniac fury, motioned me to fall back. I dared not answer, so all was still. Then other names were called. I felt that. NARRATIVE. 31 live or die, now was the time to speak. I accord- ingly told officer Blackgrovc, that tliere were but eleven men present who had been longer in prison than myself. He looked at me, and then asked me why I did not answer when my name was called. I told him that I did attempt to answer, but Ser- geant Wally prevented me. He thereupon turned, and, looking at him with contempt, put down my name. Of the thirteen who bad been taken pris- oners in the month of March, 1777, only two now remained to be exchanged, mjself and one other('°). On the eighth day of May, 1778, we were released from our long confinement. Our persecutors, how- ever, had not yet done with us. Tliey, as if to trouble and torment us, took the Southern prison- ers oil" towards Boston to be discharged, while the Eastern prisoners were conveyed to Elizabethtown, in New Jersey^"). There they set us free. Upon our liberation, we proceeded at once to Newark. — Here, everything was clothed in the beaut}' of spring. The birds were singing merrily, and the whole face of nature smiled with gladness. We were so delighted, and in fact, so transported with pleasure, that we could not forbear rushing out 32 NARRATIVE. and throwing ourselves upon the green grass, and rolling over it again and again. After a confine- ment of fourteen months iu a loathsome prison, clothed in rags and filth, and with associates too numerous and offensive to mention, this was to us a luxury indeed. Prom Newark("), we traveled on as fast as our enfeebled powers would permit. We crossed the Hudson at Dobb's Fen-y("), and here we began to separate, each for his own home. The ofiicers pressed horses and went on. My companion and myself were soon wending our way, slowly and alone. As we passed on, we saw in the distance two men riding towards us, each having with him a led horse. It did not take me long to discover the man on a well-known horse to be m}- father, and the other person to be the father of my com- rade. The meeting I will not here attempt to de- scribe, but from the nature of the case, you may well imagine that it was an affecting one, and more peculiarly so, as my friends had been informed some time before that I had died in prison. The} had had prayers oftered up, according to the custom of the time, and the family had gone into mourning("). NARRATIVE. 33 They therefore felt as though they liad received me from the dead. It seems that the officers had carried the news of our return, and our friends had ridden all night to meet us. We proceeded on our way together, and ere the shades of evening had closed around us, we were once more in the bosom of friends, and enjoying the sweets of homo, and the society of those we loved. And may my heart ever rise in gratitude towards that Being whose preserving care has been over me, and who has never, never forsaken me. Hanford did not remain long idle after his return from imprisonment. As soon as he had regained his liealti), he resumed his musket, and partook once more of the hardships of the tented field. — He again took his position in Captain Seymour's company, and continued in the active performance of his duty to the termination of the war. He was present at the taking and burning of Norwalk, in Connecticut, and assisted in driving the British and Tories back to their shipping^'). At another time, he was one of a body of troops that was called out one cold winter night to repel a large British force that was advancing from Kingsbridge, forag- 34 NARRATIVE. ing, marauding, and burning everything in their way("). The American army marched in two divi- sions, one taking the Post-Road, and the other a more circuitous route, and coming together at a designated place near the enemy. The night was excessively cold, and the army suffered greatly. — The detachment to which Hanford belonged, arrived first at the place of destination, and halted near a public house. Hanford, and a few others of his party, soon entered the house, and found their way to the fire. While they were engaged in warming themselves, an officer, whose name is not now re- collected, came in, chilled and shivering with cold, and placed his arms over Hanford's shoulders to warm his hands, which were quite stiff and benumb- ed. While thus engaged, he and Hanford were led to notice each other, and with a mutual half recog- nition. Soon after this, Hanford was stationed as a guard at the outer door of the house, and while performing this duty, the officer walked past him repeatedly, each time eyeing him closely. Finally, coming up to Hanford, he thus addressed him : — " Sir, I think I knoiv you. I recognize you as one of my fellow-jn'isoners of the old Sugar House Pri- NARRATIVE. 35' son in Netv-York. I tliouijlil I l-iiciv you when I first saic you. I was with you for a while in that den of human suffering." After a mutual greeting, he asked Hani'ord how he liked his present position, to which tlie latter replied that ho was not partic- ularly atiaclied to it. The ofTicer then asked him how he would like to take a ride. Being answered in the afliruuitivo, tlic officer then told him that he had letters and dispatches to the Secretary of State, at Ilartford("), Connecticut, and if he de- sired the trip, he would like him to go and deliver them. He told him, moreover, that he must fur- nish his own liorse, pay his own expenses, and when he had performed the duty, he must make liis report, when he should be re-imbursed and draw his pay. To tliis lianford readily assented. The duty was accordingly performed by him, after the return of the troops, and the trip to Hartford was a pleasant one. In the meantime, the troops passed on, and after several skirmishes, atid a running fight, the British were finally driven back across Kingsbridge. — About this time, a party of British and Hessians commenced the erection of a redoubt on the Har- 36 NARRATIVE. lem river, and a body of men, of which Hanford was one, was sent to check their operations. The troops marched all night, intending to surprise the enemy, and make the attack at early dawn. They reached their destination before daylight, unob- served, and took a position from which they could rake the redoubt with their small arms, aided by one piece of artillery loaded with grape. In front of, and near the redoubt, was a vessel lying at the dock, loaded witli fascinesC"), a portion of which had already been landed. The Americans were hid from view when lying down, but when they arose, the whole scene was open before them. At daylight, a detachment of Hessian troops made its appearance, and soon came to the water for fascines. The Americans lay perfectly still until each Ues- sian soldier had shouldered his bundle, and was about to return to the fort, when the command was given in a loud tone of voice, " Attention, men — — ready — aim — tire !" Quick as thought, each man sprang to his feet, and a volley of musketry and a discharge of grape were poured in upon the enem}'. The scene that followed was ludicrous in the ex- treme. The enemy were taken completely by sur- NARKATIVE. 3 ( prise, and were terribly frighteued. In their con- fusion and terror, they tiirew down their bundles, and used every exertion to run. Although they jumped, and sprang, aud swung their arms, and made desperate strides, yet they seemed for a time to have lost all ability to move forward, for when one leg started in one direction, the other went off in one exactly opposite ; and it was only b}- the most desperate efforts of springing and jumping that they effected their escape. This they were at last enabled to do by reason of the river being be- tween them and their pursuers. The Americans, however, succeeded in carrying out the objects of the expedition. They destroyed the redoubt, made a prize of the vessel and cargo, and captured some prisoners. On another occasion, when a party of British and Tories came on an expedition of plunder and des- truction, Hanford was again called out, with others, to repel them. They met the enemy, and after a slight skirmish, succeeded in driving them back. The Americans pursued the retreating foe until tlie engagement became a running fight. The British finally made a stand in a favorable position, 38 NARRATIVE. and when tlieir iiursuers came up, tliey found a rising ground before them, partially concealing the enemy from their view. A portion of the Americans, Hanford among them, passed over the ridge, amid a galling fire, the bullets flying among them thick as hail. Hanford soon found shelter behind a large rock, under cover of which he used his gun for some time with telling effect, till finally, in attempt- ing to load it, the cartridge stuck in the barrel, and in striving to force it down with his rod, he inad- vertently leaned back to gain more space, in doing which, a nart of his person became exposed to view. At that instant, a ball came whizzing by, just miss- ing his head, and looking up, he perceived a Brit- ish soldier in the act of dodging back to his covert. The Americans firmly maintained their ground, and finally bore off the honors of the day. They charged upon, and repulsed the enemy, who re- treated in confusion to their lines. After this, Hanford spent the remaining part of his term of service in guarding property, in repel- ling the invasions of the British and the Tories, and in peregrinate movements wherever his duty or the public exigency required, until the termi- NARRATIVE. 89 ii:itir)ii of tlio war. In this manner, lie gave him- self up to the call of his coiintiT, evincing at all times, and upon all occasions, those traits of cha- racter, which, when found in hapi)y combination, form the true model of the Christian soldier. At the establishment of peace, he threw oil" the trap- pings of war, laid aside the implements of death, and sought once more the shades of private life. In the 3'ear 1782, Hauford was united in marriage to Miss Mary Mead,(") a lady of most amiable and exemplary character, witli wiimn ho liad long been acquainted, and who was the daughter of Gen. John Mead,(") of Horseneck,(") in Greenwich, (") Connecticut. Mr. Hanford, after his marriage, set- tled iu New Canaan, ('") then a parish of Norwalk, where he resided for more than twenty-five years^ During his residence in New Canaan, he went with his wife to Walton,(") Delaware County, Now York, on a visit to her brother and sister who had moved to that place. They performed the journey on horseback, the only mode of travel at that day. They traveled over bad roads, through woods, and fording deep and rapid streams. In the fall of the year 1807, he again visited Walton, but this time, 40 NAKRATIVE. with the intention of purchasing a farm, and se- curing a residence. Upon his return, he sold his property in Connecticut, and on the twentieth day of March, 1808, with two wagons, loaded with goods, and his family of five sons and four daughters, he moved to Walton. The winter was past, the wea- ther warm and pleasant, and the traveling reason- ably good. After a toilsome journej' of sis days, the family arrived at their place of destination. They took possession of their plain, but comforta- ble home, a log house of ample accommodation, and soon became settled in their new abode. Here tliey remained, a happy and unbroken family, until the fifteenth day of September, 1847, when Mrs. Hanford closed her earthly pilgrimage, in the 88th year of her age, having lived with, and cheered the fireside of her husband for more than sixty-five years. In the early history of Walton, religious confer- ence meetings were held in the town every Thurs- day evening, under the superintendence of Deacon St. John.(") They were held at private houses, in alternate rounds. In these gatherings, Levi Han- ford took a warm and active part, generally lead- m JI[:>. II A \ Knit I ■ NARRATIVE. 41 ing the meetings when Deacon St. JoRn was absent. These meetings exerted a great influence upon the neighborhood, and kept many from deviating from the paths of moral rectitude. To this day, there are many persons, now scattered over our country, who looic back to them as the source from which they derived much of their religious training. En- couraged by the clergy, and patronized by their occasional presence, the)' have been kept up for a period of nearly seventy years, although their lead- ers and principal snpporters have been changed several times by death or removal. In the month of January, 1852, an advertisement appeared in the New York Journal of Commerce, stating that the author, David Barker, Esq., of that city, had in his possession a cane, made from one of the beams of the Old Sugar House in Liberty street, and calling upon any surviving sufferer in that old prison, to send in his name that he might have the pleasure of presenting the relic to him as a support to his declining years. To this call, five only responded, disclosing the melancholy fact that of those prisoners, only five remained alive. Each of these applicants sent in his name, with a brief 42 NARRATIVE. account of his imprisonment and sufferings. It ap- peared from these statements that Levi Hanford was confined the longest of the five, and was the youngest of the number when imprisoned. There being so manj' applicants for the cane, it was con- cluded to leave the choice to be determined by lot. When this decision was made known to Hanford, he at once gave up all hope of receiving it, saying that in all his life, he never had any fortune in chance operations. The drawing, however, came ofl', and the cane fell to Hanford. It was transmit- ted to him by a friend, and he received it in the ninety-fourth year of his age, with a deep feeling of pride and pleasure. So delighted was he with this memento of his early career, that he kept it alwaj^s near him, occasionally exhibiting it to those who visited him, and cherishing and preserving it to the day of his deatli. Mr. Hanford always took a deep and lively inter- est in his country's welfare. On the exciting sub- jects which so much affected the nation's well-being, he took sides with the Republicans. He was a strong opponent of the leading acts and measures of John Adams, and the party that elected him. NARRATIVE. 43 Imt he was a warm friend and supporter of Thomas Jefterson, and his administration. His heart was with the Republicans in resisting the aggressive acts of Great Britain and France, in discardiiig their claimed right of search, and in opposing their Milan and Berlin decrees. He approved of the war of 1812, and the policy of Madison, and gave them his firm and steady support, and though age had placed him beyond the period of active duty himself, yet be gave three of his sons, all who were then of age, to the defence of that country, for which he himself had suffered so much, and which he had helped to establish. His two eldest sons were called to the Canadian frontier at Sackett's Harbor, and the younger to the defense of New York, when that city was threatened with an inva- sion. When peace was again restored, and the government strengthened and invigorated, and rendered more permanent by the ordeal through which it had passed, he rejoiced W'ith the joyful, gave thanks with the thankful, looking forward with true, patriotic pride to that enviable position which she would hereafter take among the nations of the earth — a higher, a brighter, a nobler posi- 44 XAREATrVE. tion than she had heretofore attained. He gave his hearty and unwavering support to Andrew Jackson, and the measures of his administration, i-egarding him as a man far above the leading poli- ticians of his day, pure, honest and self-sacrificing, striving for the good of the country with a firm and fearless determination that allowed no claim, no interest, no obstacle whatever to swerve him from his duty. As a Democratic Republican, Hau- ford warmly and cheerfully espoused the general principles of that party, but when Texas was pre- sented for annexation, he felt that it was a measure which might end with disastrous results. He con- sidered it as detrimental to the public good, that it was not sought for through any real sympathy for Texas, but was urged solely with the view of opening a new field for the ingress of slaverj', and of increasing thereby the value of such property by increasing its demand. With Texas for a pre- cedent, he always feared that. annexation might be carried to a dangerous extent, and often remarked that if this Union was ever dissolved, the annexa- tion of Texas would bo the first link in the chain of events to bring it about. Though never an abo- NARRATIVE. 45 litioiiist, ill the common accoptiition of the term, yet he was always opposed to shivery in every form, considering it as a disgrace to humanity, a blot upon the national character, and a withering curse upon those States where it existed. He was in favor of letting it die out gradually, as he consider- ed it would have done if the annexation policy had not given it new life bj' breathing into it an in- creased pecuniar}' interest. For these reasons he was opposed to all measures tending to the repeal of the ordinance of 1787, and of the Missouri Com- promise. He considered such measures equally detrimental to the interest and stability of our gov- ernment. When Congress was legislating upon the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, he took a deep and lively interest in its discussions, and his feelings became unusually excited. The subject was one that seemed to call out and develop all the energy of his earlier jears. One da)-, after he had received his paper, and had perused the congres- sional proceedings, he turned to his son, and with a look of deep and solemn earnestness, said : " William, 1 see clearly that they are determined to repeal the Missouri Compromise, and I believe they 46 NARRATIVE. will do if. They seem determined to break down every harrier to the spread of slavery — those harriers which were estahlisked at the commencement of our government, and tchich have hitherto heen held as sa- cred as the Constitution itself. If," said he, " ruthless hands are to he laid tipon those sacred compacts, and those harriers to he hroTcen doicn, tramjyled upon, and destroyed, then icill the curse of slavery spread,— -then will tyranny and oppression reign triumphant o'er the land. Little, alas ! very little will ive have gained in ot(r Bevolutionary struggle, if these things come to pass. We endured privations — hinger, cold, toil and suffer ing to little purpose — toe gave our treasure — ive shed our Uood — tue gave our lives — all for naught, if these lines of demarlcation are to he disregarded, scorned and taken aioay. If those looi'se than parri- cides, tvere so hent upon sapping tlie foundation upon which our great and almost perfect government is founded, anil upmi ivhich its very life depends, wJiy, oh ! why could they not have waited a little longer, until the last of the old soldiers had passed away, and spared them the pain, the bitter mortification of ivit- nessing that noble structure tchich they sacrificed so mtich to rear, broken doivn and destrotjed, and the na- NARRATIVE. 47 tion reeling and falling hack to that state of tyranny ivhich cost so miwh treasure and so much Hood to over- throir." Thus spoke that honest patriot, and as he closed, as if to give due emphasis to his remarks, he stamp- ed his foot upon the ground, while his tremulous voice and earnest look evinced the depth of the emotions that convulsed his heart. Oh ! could those political vampires have beheld that aged man, have seen his solemn and impressive mien, and heard his soul-inspiring words. Though sear- ed be their consciences, though obdurate be their hearts, that scene might have touched some tender chord, aroused .some latent principle to check those iffi^ pi' i t in pled legislators in their headstrong course of depravity and ruin. In his religious belief, Mr. Hanford was a frank and hearty supporter of the doctrines of the Bap- tist Church. Though fixed in his theology, yet he was no bigot. He was never arrogant or dogmati- cal, never narrow or illiberal. While he held bis own views with tenacity, he allowed others to do the same, and to hold theirs undisturbed. His heart was ever open in brotherly fellowship, and 48 NARRATIVE. in all the relations of life, he ever manifested that true, humble, Christian spirit, of which any one might well be proud. He combined in his charac- ter the purity of a saint with the valor of a Roman, — a splendid model of the old Continental soldier, — a brave — a holy — " an honest man — the noblest work of God." But age was fast doing its work. A life of ac- tivity, of industry, of temperance, of virtue, had already extended his years far be3'ond the usual bound. At last, exhausted nature gave way, and on the nineteenth day of October, 1854, at his resi- dence in Walton, Delaware County, New York, in the ninety-sixth year of his age, he sank calmly to rest, " Calmly as to a night's repose, • -. Like flowers at set of sun." His remains were deposited by the side of his wife in the family cemeteiy at Walton, attended by a large circle of friends and relatives, to whom he had endeared himself in life, and by whom he was lamented in death. Levi Hanford is dead, but yet he lives ! — lives iu the hearts of his children, to whom he has bequeath- NARRATIVE. 49 oi\ liis spotless 11,11110 — lives in tlie memory ot his many accpiaintanoos, wlio " Knew him but to love him, Who named him but to praise." — lives in the pure — tlie brillitint example which he has made and left behind him. NOTES. (1.) Lkvi Hanfoed, Sem., the father of the subject of this me- moir, was bjrn ia Norwalk, Conn., in that part of the town wliich afterwards becanit; Xew Canaan, on the 4tli day of JIarch, 1731. He died on the 2lst day of Xoverabar, 1790, at the age of 65 years, and was buried in the Congregational Church-yard, in New Canaan. His wife, whose miiden-nam^ was Rlizab3tli Carter, was born in Xorwalli in tlie year 1731, and died on the 7th day of Sep- tember, 1776, at the age of 45 years, and was interred in tlie same burial-place as her husband. Her father, Ebenezar Carter, was born near the village of Norwalk, and was a farmer bv oc- cupation. At an early age he moved with his parents to what was then called •' The Woods,'' — some four miles distaiit. Th^ country was then new, and deer, bears, and other wild animils were very plenty. In the latter part of his life he used to amuse the chililren and young people by relating to them the events of his early childhood, when wild animils would cross his path in going to and returning from church. Hj was an active, ener- getic man, and was proverbial for his hospitality. He and his wife were both buried in New Canaan. 52 NOTES. (2.) Norwalk, a town in Fairfield Co., Conn., on Long Islanil Sound, (>3 miles from Hartford, and 45 miles from Xew York City. It has a good trade, and a number of vessels employed in coasting. There is a regular communication between this place and New York. Old Well is situated a little more than a mile from the centre of the town. It received its name from an old well, from which, in early times, vessels engaged in the West In- dia trade took their supplies of water. ! ~ (3.) Rev. Thomas Hasford, according to Cotton Mather, was one of the class of ministers, "who not having finished their edu- cation at home, came over here to perfect it, before our college was come to maturity to bestow its laurels." He was in Scitu- ate, Mass., in 1C43, with the Eev. Charles Chauncey, one of the most distinguished Puritan divines, with whom he probably completed his studies. Mr. Hanford was made a freeman in Massachusetts, on the 22d day of May, 1G50, began to preach in Xorwalk in 1652, was ordained in 165-4, and died in the year 1G93, aged about 72 years. He was succeeded by the Rev. Ste- phen Buckingham. The widow ol Mr. Hanford died on the 12th dav of September, 1730, at the age of one hundred years. (4) Captain Isaac Iveeler was born in Wilton, Conn., in the year 1755. He was apprenticed to, and learned the tailor's trade. On the breaking out of the war, he entered the Conti- nental Army as an ensign, and was promoted to Lieutenant, and afterwards to Captain, He was with the army at Valley Forge, and was at the battle of Red Bank, under Col. Green, and also in other engagements. At the end of the war, he went into business at Waterford, Saratoga Co., N. Y. He afterwards moved to the City of New York, where he opened a merchant tailor's store. He received the appointment of City Jlarshall, and held at one time the office of Police Justice. He afterwards NOTES. 53 occupied a position in the Custom House, which he retained to his death. In the war of ]812,wlien the City of New York was in danger of an attack by the British, he volunteered in the vet- eran corps of revolutionary soldiers, for thi'ce mouths to jruard the Arsenal, and received an appointment in the corps. Though he endeavored to discharge his duties with fidelity, the labors and exposures of camp life were too much for his years and enfeebled constitution. He took a severe cold, which settled upon his lungs, and ended in consumption, of which he died in the year 1S25, in the 71st year of his age. His wife was burned to death about three years afterwards, her clothes taking fire while kneel- ing in secret prayer. She and her husband were both buried in the burial-ground of the church in Market Street, in the city of New York, of which church they were both members. (5 & G) AVith a view of seizing the military stores and pro- visions which the Americans had collected at Concord, 12 miles N. W. from Boston, Gen. Gage, on the evening preceding the 19th of April, 1775, detached from his garrison 800 picked men, under the command of Lieut.-Col. Francis Smi(h, of the 10th Regiment, and Major John Pitcairn, of the Marines. These troops made a rapid march to the place of their destination, iu hopes of taking the malcontents by surprise, but, notwithstand- ing the precautions which had been taken, the alarm was given throughout the country, and the inhabitants flew to arras. Be- tween 4 and a o'clock on the morning of the 19th, the advanced guard of the Royal troops arrived at Le.xington, where they found about fifty or si.xty, or possibly more, of the American militia under arms, whom Major Pitcairn ordered to disperse, and on their hesitating to obey his command, that officer dis- charged his pistol and ordered his soldiers to fire. By the vol- ley which ensued, eight of the militia were leftdead on the ground, ten were wounded, and the remainder dispersed. The troops 54 NOTES. then proceeded to Concord, sis miles further, where thfTdeptrny- ed a portion of the stores of the insurgents, and then cfmimnxed retreating towards Boston. They were not, however, permitted to make this retrogade mOTemrnt without molestation. Before they left Concord, they were attacked by the A merit an militia and minute-men whom they had provoked, and \\l:o accunnilated by degrees, harrassed their rear and flanks, takirg advantage of every inequality of gronnd, and especially availirg thin'selves of the stone walls which .skirted the road, and which served them as intrenchmenls. Had not the detachment been n tt i.t Lexington by a brigade of about 1,000 men with two pi- ces of cannon which Gen. Gage had sent out to its support, uiidrr the com- mand of Lord Percy, it would certainly have been cut oft', or forced to surrender. The L'nited British forces arrived, wearied and exhausted at Bunker Hill near Boston, a little after sunset, having not only lost their baggage wagons, but sustained a loss of about 65 killed, 180 wounded, and 28 missing. Among the wounded was Lieut.-Col. Smith, the commander of the detach- ment. Some of the soldiers were so much exhausted with fa- tigue that they were obliged to lie down on the ground, their tongues hanging out of their mouths like dogs after a chase. The Americans had about 50 killed. 34 wounded and 4 missing. Intelligence of the battle spread rapidly through the Colonies, and excited everywhere feelings of mingled exultation, sorrow and rage. The mechanic left his work-shop and the farmer his plough, and seizing their arms, they resolved to avenge the death of their murdered countrymen. Gordon's Amer. War, Vol. I, p. 476. (7) In the yetn' 177.T, the project was conceived of surprising Ticonderoga, a fortified post on the western shore of Lake Cham- plain, and commanding the eiitrace into Canada. This design was communicated -to Col. Athan Allen, who, in conjunction with NOTES. 55 Col. Benedict Arnolil, accoidinglj- proceeded to Ticcndcroga, and the remainder of the party to Slicensbo'-ough. Sentinels liad been previously stationed on all ibc roads to prevent tlie passing of any intelligence. On tlie 9th day of May, about eighty, all that the boats could carry, crossed the lal;ar rclinery until the year 1776, when it was converted by the JJritish, who then hold possession of the city, into a place of confinement for American prisoners. After the Revolution the business of sugar refining was again resumed, and continued until about the month of June, 1840, when the old prison was demolished, and upon its site was erected a block of brick buildings, now used as stores and private offices. (21 A: 22) The first meeliiig-house, it is said, which was erected in the City of New York, by the Quakers, was built in Green Street Alley, between Liberty Street and JIaiden Lane, about the year 1706. It was afterwards moved to Liberty Street, and in the year 1802, was rebuilt and enlarged. It was a plain, sub- stantial liuildiug, and stood a little back of the street, on the north side. It was used as a place of meeting, and the grounds attached as a place of burial until after the Yellow Fever of 1822. In the month of October, 182G. the premises were pur- chased by Grant Thorburn. Es<|., and in the month of December following, the ground all around and under the meeting-house, was trenched to the depth of seven feet. The bones were care- fully collected, packed in neat bo.xes, and deposited in a cemetery out of town. In removing the bones, some interesting relics were discovered, among which was a leg and thigh-bone, each of which measured two inches more than any others found there, though there were a great number. They were evidently part of the skeleton of a giant. The building was occupied by Mr. Thorburn 64: NOTES. as a seed-store and deiDOt for plants until the year 1835, when the premises were sold by him for building purposes. The old meet- ing-house was demolished on the 10th day of September, 1835, and upon its site was erected a row of buildings now used as stores and offices. In the year 1775, the Society ot Friends erected a meeting- house in Pearl Street, on the east side, between Cherry and Oak. It was a brick building. 4oxGS, and covered about 3,264 feet square. It was taken down in the year 1824, and stores and dwelling houses were erected in its place. These two meeting-houses were both used as hospitals by the British during the Revolution. Mr. W. B. Hanford believes that the " Quaker Meeting Hos pital," in which his father wa,s confined, was the one located in Pearl Street. In regard to the location of the building used as the " Small-Pox Hospital," he is less positive. It may have been the meeting-house in Liberty Street, or perhaps have been the First Presbyterian Church in Wall Street, near Broadway, ■which, it is said, was also used as a ho.spital. He is, however, not at all certain on this point. (23) The object of beating the drums at the whipping of the sentinel, was not for the purpose of disgracing him, as is usually the case when the " Rogue's March" is played, but to drown the screaches and groans of the tortured criminal. It answered like- wise as a call, to bring together the regiment to witness the exe- cution of the sentence upon the prisoner. (24) The Prison Ship Good Intent, on her voyage from Eng- land, had been cast upon the rocks at Halifax, whereby she had lost part of her keel. Being unfit for further sea service, she was con- verted into a prison ship. She required the daily use of her pumps to keep her afloat.J XOTES. 65 (25) The Jersey Prison Ship was originally a British shi[i of the line. She was ratpil and registered as a (ift. littHmd4ii««l- ULJiiOHHKHWt-srwi?. lla'vin;;' become old and decayed, she was, at 01' near the coninienccnient of the Revolution, dismantled, and soon after moored in the East river, at New York, and used as a store ship. She was afterwards fitted up as a pri.son ship, and uswl as such to the termination of the war. In the year 1T83, the prisoners then on board of her were released, and she was abandoned where she lay. Her rotted hulk could be seen at low tide for about thirty years afterwards. The mortality on these prison ships was almost incredible. As many as 11,500 are said to have perished on board of them. The remains of those who died in them were slightly buried on the Long Island shore, and the ebbing of the tide often uncovered them, and exposed their whitened bones to view. They were shamefully neglected for many years. In the year 1808, the bones were collected and placed in thirteen coffins, and interred by the Tammany Society in a vault in Jackson Street, Brooklyn, presented for that pur- pose by the late John Jackson, Esq. A grand imposing proces- sion honored the performance of this last tribute to them. (2Cj The Brick Meeting House was erected in the year 1767, It was constructed of brick, and received its name from that cir- cumstance. The celebrated Whitfiehl is said to have been heard preaching there upon one occasion. The building was S3 feet long by G5 wide, and had a lofty spire. The ground on which it was erected was granted to the church by the corporation of the city, in 1767. There were vaults under the church and in the ground surrounding it, and there was a session room in the rear. In the Revolution the church was used by the British, first as a prison and then as a hospital. It was demolished in the year 1856, and upon its site was erected the elegant edifice known as the " Times Buildinp:." 66 NOTES. (27) "On a hiah hill- near where Franklin Street now is. on the east side of Broadway, there formerly stood a water basin, built before the Revolution, for supplying the city with water. Nearly opposite the water basin, on the west side of Broadway, stood an old fort, built of earth, which had been used during the Revolutionary war. On the outside of this fort, on the slope of the hill, were buried many of the American prisoners of war, who had died in the old Sugar House in Liberty Street, then Crown Street, or in the North Dutch Church in William Street, both of which were used as prisons by the British. These Ixidies were buried so near the surface, that by the slight washing of the hill their bones were exposed, and many a time, when a boy. have I seen their remains pulled out and abused by my thoughtless com- panions — as late as 1800." Cozzens' Geology of New York Island, page 22. Mr. Onderdonk, in speaking of the old Sugar House in Liberty Street, at the time when it was used as a prison, says : " For many weeks the dead-cart vibited the prison every morning, into which eight or twelve corpses were flung and piled up, like sticks of wood, and dumped into ditches in the outskirts of the city." Onderdonk's Rev. Incidents of Suffolk and Kings Uoanties, p. 203. Mr. Jonathan Gillette, a native of West Hartford, Conn., who died on the 14th day of March, 1855, aged 93 years, was a pri- soner in the Sugar House in Liberty Street, in the year 1780, and was confined there for ten months. He says, " Almost every day the corpse of one, and sometimes five or six were carried out for burial. They were conveyed to the Bowery, near the Fresh Water Pump, where they wore interred." The place where Mr. Hanford witnessed the burial of the pri- soners, was not in anv church-vard, but was in the trenches of NOTES. (57 the fortifications, which had been made by the Amiricans pie- viou3 to the evacuation of New York, in the year 177G, in what was then considered the upper part of the city. It was sonu- wiiere in the neighborhood of where Grand Street now is, but may not have been quite so high up. The city was dug full o trenches, in and around it, and into these the prisoners were thrown, and were scarcely furnished earth, much less coffins for their burials. The British did not dig graves for the prisoners, and hence were not usually inclined to bury them in church-yards or regular burying places, but threw them in wherever it was convenient. The mode of burial of those who died in the prison ships is well known. The remains of those who died in the pri- sons on land were not more favored than they. During the oc- cupation of the city by the British, much mortality prevailed among the troops, and the burials said to have been made in Trinity Church yard, were probably those of British soldiers, or from the Tory regiments. Mr. llanford had no knowledge of any American prisoners having been buried there by the British, and always scouted at the idea. Having been a prisoner for fourteen months, ho certainly would have known if such had been the fact. When the troubles with England commenced, the Episcopal Churches almost unanimously took sides with the mo- ther country, and were friends of the British, and when the City of New York was taken possession of, they were recognized as loyal branches of the Established Church of England, and as such were protected from profanation, while the churches of other de- nominations were converted into store-houses, hospitals, prisons, riding-schools, and even stables for Briiish cavalry. The British being in possession of the Episcopal grounds, they were not at all likely to desecrate them by making them the receptacle of the rebel dead. They were not likely to honor or favor those, re- garded as criminals and outlaws by a burial in consecrated ground whom, while living, they had starved and ill treated, and whom 68 NOTES. thej liai.1 allowed to lauguisli and die in vile, pestilential jirisons. Tlje cluirclies themselves were opposed to such burials. They did not want their grouuds filled with the bodies of those who, while living, were in open rebellion not only against their king, but also the Established Church. Under these circumstances, the British certainly would not select such spots ■when the wl.ole city was open before them, and would by no means be a])t to pay tlie fee for interring bodies there, when they could be buried elsewhere for nothing. If a prisoner had Tory influence enough to insure his intr -meut there, the same influence would have insured his release from captivity, and from the treatment and mode of life which caused or accelerated his decease. Moreover, Mr. Inglis, the pastor of the church, was himself a bitter Tory, and took an active and decided part, as is well known, and as the records of the church will show. He would have raised both hands against any such desecration. His pray- ers for the king were vehement and unceasing, and he refused to omit t. m even during the pr sence of Washington himself at the church, although previously requested so to do by one ol' that General's own ofhcers. Would he, who refused this civility to a member and a communicant of the church, be at all likely to grant an Episcopal burial to a prisoner confined for being a rebel, and wlio died firm and unshaken in liis defection ? Those noble patriots, those suflering martyrs were not so favored. No soothing words consoled their dying hours ; no tones of pity soft- ened their afflictions, and it may well be believed that no Episco- pal services attended their remains to their place of interment. The remains which are said to have been discovered in e.xcava- tino- the sround for the erection of the monument to the Martyrs, appearing to have been hastily and promiscuously^mtwc, and without coffins, were probably the remains of paupers, for that ground was used as a Potter's Field for many years before the Revolution— in fact as earlv as 1703 or 1704. When the Brit- NOTES. Ii!) ish held possession ol the city, tlioyliiul lull control orcvciTthinpr, ami is it not natnnil that they would have protected IVoni dese- cration the grounds eontaininj^ their own friends and relatives. and aronnds attached to and belongini; to their own Established Churrh ? f Would not their viirilanee after the destruction of the s>ier of whale boats and small craft, with stores and merchandize to a large amount. The furniture of the inhabitants was wantonly destroyed, and their plate and other articles ol value carried ofl'. One hundred and thirty-two dwell- ing houses, meeting-house and church included, eighty-seven barns, twenty-two store-houses, seventeen shops, four mills, and five ves- sels were burnt, besides the wheat and hay, &c., which had been gathered in. Lendrum's Am. Kev , Vol. II, p. 253. Bouton's Hist. Discourse, p. 48, (36) KiKGSBRiDGE is situatcd at the north end of New York island, on Spuyten Duyvel Creek, and is distant from the City Hall about thirteen miles. The neighborhood was the scene of important military operations during the Revolution. (37) Hartford, a city and seat ofjustice of Hartford Co., Conn., and semi-capital of the State, situated on the Connecticut river, 110 miles from New York City. (38) Fascines are made of brush-wood, with their ends sharpen- ed, and are bound together in bundles like sheaves of grain. They are used in forming breastworks, being built in fortifications with dirt, in such a manner that their sharp ends project. NOTES. (0 (39) Miss Mauy Mkap was the daughter of Col. John Mead, and was born at llorsencck. in the town of (Greenwich, State of Connecticut, on the lltli day of December, 1759. She was an eye-witness to many acts of cruelty and rapine on the part of the British during our Revolutionary struggle. Her brother, who was an officer in the army, had been taken [jrisoner and was dis- charged on parole. He was afterwards exchanged and returned to the army, but becoming sick, was sent home on a furlough. While he was at liis home, he heard the British approaching the house and fled from the back door, and under the protection of an orchard, made his way to the fields, where he sprang into a thicket and hid himself. While he lay here concealed, a party of British Light Horse surrounded the house, and some of them coming up to his sister Mary, who had gone to a neighboring spring to rinse some clothes, pointed their swords at her breast and threatened her with instant destruction, unless she revealed the hiding-place of her brother. By her presence of niiud and firmness on this occasion, she not only saved her own life but also preserved his. At another time the house was surrounded by a party of Brit- ish Light Horsemen, and one of them struck at her twin-sister with his sword, just missing her head, but cutting the casing of the door, an inch in thickness, quite in two. The family were repeatedly plundered by marauding parties of their clothes and other valuable efTects. They would carry off everything of value, and what they could not take^away, they would destroy. They would even ride into the house, and upset the chairs and tables, and hack to pieces with their swords, mirrors, pictures and fur- niture. They would rip open the feather beds, and empty into the ticks hives of bees with the honey. The family were com- pelled to secrete their clothing and valuable effects in the fields and other places of security to preserve them from pillage. After the termination of the war. Miss Mead was married to 76 NOTES. Levi Hauford. In the year 1809, she and her husband united with the Baptist Church in Franklin, Delaware County, X. T.. then under the pastoral charge of Rev. Daniel Robertson, and to the close of their lives lived in Christian fellowship with the church, and evinced by their conduct, in public and private, the sincerity of their belief in the religion they professed. Mrs. Hanford died at Walton, Delaware County, N. T., on the fif- teenth day of September, 1847, in the eighty-eighth year of her age, and was buried in the family cemetery at that place. (40) Col. John Mead was born in Greenwich, Connecticut, in the year 1726, and was a farmer by occupation. Being a very fleshy man, his farm labor was mostly performed by his sons and hired help. He was at one time connected with the building of several vessels, one of which was taken in the early part of the Revolution by the British. He was placed early in comnwiKl of the American lines at Horseneck, together with an extent of sea-coast each way from that place. He had command of a regiment, and sent out men by companies, or in smaller detach- ments, as he had orders, or as he deemed the public safety de- manded. He was with his regiment at the evacuation of the City of New York, under General Washington, and his regiment was the last to leave the place. The day was a remarkably warm and sultry one, and the men suffered greatly from heat and thirst, and many of them were sun-struck. Col. Mead remained after the regiment had left, and before he had overtaken his men. they had retreated to a place of safety. When he entered the public house, he found every spot occupied. Even the floor was covered promiscuously with ofiicers and men, seeking repose and sleep after the labors of the day. Edging his way along, he at length found a place, and stretched himself upon the floor among them. Incommoding, however, one of his neighbors, by using his feet for a pillow, the man remonstrated, when the Colonel NOTES. 1 7 iimiiediiiU'ly apologized. The soldier recognized the voice of liis eoiiimander and exclaimed : " Why, Colonel Mead — is it you ? God bless you ! Can it be possible you arc alive and well ? I really never expected to see you again alive after what we have endured. Lie down, Colonel, — use my feet for a pillow, and welcome, if you can find any rest in such a place." On one occasion, while the Colonel Wiis at his home at Horse- neck, a party of British and Tories formed a plan to capture him for the purpose of exchanging him for one of their officers who had been taken by the Americans some time before. The party set out from Long Island, and were piloted along by a man who had been brought up by the Colonel, and who was dependent upon him, and whom he had often befriended. AVhen the Colonel saw this man among the party, he at once exclaimed, " Eben, I hardly expected such treachery at your hands." The only reply he received was, " Colonel, you know times have changed." The party were pursued but succeeded in effecting their escape to Long Island with their prisoner. On their arrival at their place of destination, they offered the Colonel a parole, which he declined. He was, however, soon after exchanged. The farm and residence of Colonel Mead being situated in the forepart of the American lines, was a constant place of resort by the Tories and Cowboys, who committed so much depredation, and annoyed the family to such a degree, that they were finally compelled to leave the place and move to New Canaan, some fifteen or twenty miles distant, to avoid further persecution. At the termination of the war, they returned to their home, but found it to be a mere wreck of what it had once been. The roofs of the houses had been torn off, the windows broken in, the doors and ceilings destroyed, and some of the walls demolished. Fences had been pulled down and used for fire-wood, the farming N 78 NOTES. utensils and implements had been carried off or destroyed, and the stock upon the farm had been killed or driven oif by Cow- boys. The Colonel found himself reduced from a good and val- uable estate to limited means and straightened circumstances. His native State, however, made up for some of his losses, bv a grant of a large tract of laud in that part of Ohio, owned at that time by Connecticut, and known as the " Connecticut Fire Lands." The people of his locality honored him by making him their representative to the Legislature for nineteen consecutive years, and up to the time of his death. He was also promoted to the rank of Brigadier General. He died of dropsy in the year 1788, in the sixty-third year of his age, and was interred in the burying-ground at Horseneck. His wife's maiden-name was Mary Brush. She was of Scotch extraction, and was born in Stanwix, a parish of Greenwich, State of Connecticut. She died several years prior to the death of her husband, at the age of about forty years. (41) Horseneck, a village in Fairfield County, Connecticut, noted for the defeat of the Indians by the Dutch in the year 1646. [42) Greenwich, a town in Fairfield County, Conn. The settlement was begun after it had been purchased of the Indians, in 1640, under the Dutch Government at New York, then New Amsterdam. In 1665 it was incorporated by Governor Stuyve- sant. It was, however, originally purchased for the Colony of New Haven by Eoliert Feeks and Daniel Patrick. But the purchasers violated their engagements to that Colony, and to- gether with the few inhabitants, placed themselves under the gov- ernment of New Amsterdam. The settlement went on very heavily until the people returned to the jurisdiction of Connecti- cut, then including the Colony of New Haven. The Indians XOTES. 79 were hostile to tlie Dutch, and were not very favorably inclined towards the inhabitants. " A great and general battle was fought between them in that part of Horseneck commonly known by the name of Strickland's Plain. The action took place in lC-16. and was long and severe, both parties fighting with much obstinacy. The Dutch with much difficulty kept the field, and the Indians withdrew. Great numbers were slain on both sides, and the graves of the dead, for a century or more, appeared like a number of small hills." The population in 1850 was 5,040. (43) New Ca.\aa.n, a town of Fairfield County, Conn., incor- porated in ISOl. It was originally a parish lying partly in Stamford and Xorwalk, and was incorporated as a parish in 1731. Its business consists chiefly in leather manufacture. Its population in 1650 was 2,601. (44) The town of Walton in Delaware County, was organized about the year 1793. The first frame house erected in the town was built by Robert Xorth, who afterwards became the first supervisor. There being no saw mills near, the boards and tim- ber were floated down the river from Paine's mill at Hobart. The wife of 5Ir. North often boasted that she was the first woman that ever made a foot-print upon the soil of Walton. The first grist-mill was erected in 1793, and the first wedding in the town took place in 1790. Many of the early settlers of the town emigrated from New Canaan, in Connecticut. The population in 1841 w;is aliout 2,0UU. Gould's Hist. Delaware County. (45) Peter St. Joh.n was born in Norwalk, Conn., about the year 1762. Though he was too young to take a part in the commencement of the war. vet he rmilered some service to his 80 NOTES. country ueiore us close as a volunteer. He moved to Walton, N. Y., in the year 1802 with his family. He became a professor of religion, and gave much time and labor to the study of the Scriptures. This with a happy commuuication, gave him an in- fluence in the Congregational Church to which he belon2:ed, which has outlived the man. Early ou his arrival in Walton, he was elected Deacon of the church, which oBice he retained to the close of his life. He was a farmer by occupation, and possessed a competency, and was elected by his townsmen to discharge the duties of several public offices. He was in the course of his life thehusbaud of three wives, and he was the father of sis sons. He lived to an advanced age, and died as he lived, a man respect- ed and beloved. TO M V A N T 1 (I I- A T! I A X F K I K X P STUDENTS OF ASIEHUAX HISTORY GF.XKRALI.V Ttn^ \TH.LME IS HESPKCTF'.-I.I.V OEDICATKD. TbrarvoTcongress 011 800 596 A