1.2.2 Leonard Johnson  
|
| Birth |
9 Nov 1798, Chester, VT |
| Death |
21 Aug 1858, Triangle, NY |
| Line |
(Capt. John, Isaac, Nathaniel, John, Edward, John, John.) |
[p. 46-57] Leonard Johnson was born in Chester,
Vt., Nov. 9, 1798., His parents were hard-working farmers, of little
means. The hardships of a new country, with a family of six small
children, made their work very hard. They were careful to teach their
children the better ways of life, and for all their hardships they were
healthy and happy. When he was about six years old his father bought a
hill farm in Plymouth, but little cleared, on which was a log house, in
which they lived for two years, while Mr. Johnson was building a new
house. This house was still standing in the summer of 1901, when I
visited the place, and is shown at the head of the John<2> branch
of this genealogy. His father died when he was twelve years old, but
two years previous to his death, his brother, older, Noah and himself
did most of the work on the farm. About a year befoe his father's
death, Leonard went to live with a kind young farmer, Giles DeWolf.
After Mr. Johnson's death, his mother was obliged to find homes for the
children with different farmers. They ere young and tender, and felt
the loss of the love of home most keenly. For all their hardships in
their humble home, they had enjoyed life. Our happiness comes more from
health and right conditions within than from surrounding and conditions
without. I cannot do better than to quote here and there from his
memoirs, showing his early life: "I have often thought that but few
children enjoy life better than we did, when we were all at home
together, and before father's sickness and death. The little brook that
ran near our house was full of trout, and we could catch a mess at any
time. Almost all kinds of berries were very abundant in the season of
them. A little back of our house was what we called 'the flat.' On the
west border of this was a ledge of rocks, overlooking two ponds, each
about a mile in length, containing more or less ducks and loons, and an
abundance of bullfrogs; and O, how many happy, heedless hours we did
spend in catching the little trout, that would even jump out of the
water to catch the hook; in picking the luscious berries, in
anticipation of mingling them with our johnnycake and milk for supper;
in playing on that nice flat back of the house, and then in sitting
upon that ledge of rocks and looking at the sportive ducks and loons,
and hearing the loud talk of the bullfrogs, which often would end in a
general 'pow-wow.'" . . . "Sometimes it would be quite late in the
fall, if not into winter, before we got shod up with boots and shoes.
But then, the snow and frost did not frighten us much. I can remember
going one morning on an errand to one of the neighbor's, about a mile
off, when the grass was so thick with white frost that I could see
every step I took, but I did not suffer much, if any, from the cold. I
made tracks fast."
Another extract, showing conditions of his early life: My father had a
pretty good farm, but new, and much of it uncleared. We had but few of
the luxuries of life. I think we never suffered much, however, either
from hunger or cold, or for any of the substantials of comfortable
life. Johnnycake and milk, or pudding and milk, or potatoes and milk
were our principal food. Occasionally we should get some West India
molasses on our pudding, and that was a real luxury. I can remember to
this day how well I relished it, and thought that that was living at a
high rate. I do not remember that I ever complained, or ever heard one
of the family complain a word, for the want of better living. This was
all that we boys knew anything about, and we were perfectly satisfied.
When some of our neighboring women used to make us a visit, we had
something quite extra, the very superlative of high living, namely, a
wheat shortcake, baked in a spider before the fire. And I used to
think, and cannot help thinking so still, that nobody could make a
johnnycake or a hasty pudding or a shortcake quite so good as my
mother." . . . "The first school that I ever attended was when I was
about seven years old, and that was kept in Deacon Clark's barn. His
daughter, Betsey, was my first teacher." . . . "I had a good home at
Mr. DeWolf's. My brother younger, John, went to live with my uncle
Luther, on my father's side, where he lived till he was twenty-one. But
to support those younger children in this way, mother soon found it
impossible. She finally put them out at different places, while she
went to work more steadily. She did not always succeed in finding good
places for them. They were neglected or ill-treated or did not get
enough to eat. My brother, Josephus, suffered the most in this way. I
mention these things that you may see what poor widows and fatherless
children are left to suffer. Always have compassion towards these.
Though I had a good home, as I have before said, at Mr. DeWolf's, yet
when I found I had no father's home or mother's home to go to, I often
felt very sad and sorrowful. In view of these things, after I had gone
to bed at night, I often wept and would inquire, 'Why is it so? There
are such and such boys who have a father's or mother's house, to which
they go when they please, or where they may live, but I have none. Why
is it so?' And by such thoughts I may have murmured against the God of
Providence. But there was one passage of Scripture, in the midst of
these troublesome thoughts, that gave me consolation. How I got hold of
it I cannot say. I do not know that at that time I had ever read it in
the Bible. It is very probable that Elder Leeland may have repeated it,
in addressing us at my father's funeral. It is this, Psalms 27-10:
'When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me
up.' This used to be much upon my mind, especially when I had the
gloomy thoughts of which I have been speaking. From this passage I got
the idea that God would take care of me, and do me good, though I had
no earthly parents to provide for me, andas I have said, it was at that
time, and has been ever since, a source of great consolation to me, and
here I wish to say, to the praise of God's grace and faithfulness, that
in all my experience I have realized the truth of that declaration of
David."
After Mr. DeWolf moved to Pennsylvania Leonard lived two years with a
Mr. Weever. At the age of fourteen he chose Mr. James Smith of
Caavendish for his guardian, who was very kind to him. Of about this
time (1812) he writes: "In this year also commenced our last war with
England. Party feeling and party politics ran high. The women and boys
and everybody had a share in it. Secret societies were organized to
oppose the war and the government. The societies were called
Washingtonian Societies. Such was the state of feeling that neighbors
lost confidence in each other. They made war with one another in
opposing the war or in advancing it:" . . .
"By trapping, which business, I am sorry to say, was mostly attended to
on the Sabbath, I had collected together a little money. Also by
raffling I won a turkey one Thanksgiving. I sold this and got a little
money. But I am happy to say this was the first and last species of
gambling that I ever practiced, and the money that I had collected
together by trapping and raffling, I found afterwards was of but little
use to me." . . .
I make the following extract from his memoirs more to show the customs
of the times: "About this time I tried my first experiment of being a
gentleman, or a man, by drinking at a store. I had bought something at
the store, and in making change, some two or three cents were coming to
me. 'Well,' says the merchant, 'What will you have?' I saw others
drinking and thought I must try and be a man among them. 'I'll take the
change in something to drink,' I answered the merchant. So he mixed me
a glass of sling. I drank it and started for home, which was two or
three miles off. I had not gone far before the road and everything
seemed to be in motion. I knew what the trouble was, and O, what an
effort I made to walk straight. I got on the edge of the broken road
and the grass, and resolved to keep that line of march, let the road
whirl round or not, but with what success those who saw me could tell
better than I. The road seemed resolved to hit me a blow in the face,
but by stepping high I kept it down. After going about a mile and a
half I got into a small piece of woods, and was not in any hurry to get
out of it. Before I reached home the road and everything became steady,
and settled as usual, as I fancied I was also myself. But I was very
much ashamed of myself, and it was a long time before I mentioned the
thing to any one. This was the first time, and I bless God it was the
last time, that T was ever drunk. If I ever had before any relish for
liquor, I never had it afterwards. That is, I never had any hankering
for it. I do not know when, if ever, after that, I bought any liquor to
drink. I may have drank a little on training days, and at raisings,
when mixed liquor used to be carried round in pails, and perhaps
sometimes in company; but then it was very sparingly and to act like
other folks."
About the first of October, 1814, when Leonard was nearly sixteen years
old, he set out to walk to Braintram, Pa., to live with Mr. DeWolf,
with whom he had lived before in Vermont. Mr. Davidson had bought the
farm of Mr. DeWoIf, and was going in a light, one-horse wagon, well
loaded, to make a payment on the farm. He could not carry Leonard, but
could carry his bundle. Leonard regarded it a fine opportunity, so
accompanied him. He could travel as fast as the horse over the rough
roads. They left Plymouth on Thursday, traveled every day, Sundays and
all. They passed through Troy, Schenectady, Cobleskill, and down the
Susquehanna to Windsor; then over the hills through Montrose, arriving
at Braintram, Pa., about three hundred miles, on the second Tuesday
after leaving home. Leonard, by taking a short path over the hills,
arrived just as they were through breakfast, and Mr. Davidson about
noon.
The influences surrounding Leonard in his home town had been much of a
religious character, and he was quite inclined that way. Mr. DeWolf was
a conscientious Christian man. Leonard lived with him most of the time
for about four years after reaching Pennsylvania, going to school
winters. During this time he had severe struggles in his own mind as to
his religious condition, but finally believed himself a converted man.
In his memoirs he tells of his struggles with the religious questions
of baptism, election, and kindred so-called religious subjects, but be
finally becomes a settled, old-style Calvinistic Presbyterian, and by
the advice of Presbyterian ministers he puts himself under the care of
the Geneva, N. Y. Presbytery to obtain help in getting an education,
preparatory to preaching the Gospel. He walks to Ithaca, N. Y. (sixty
miles), and back for them to examine him, and tell him he is a good
subject. He was helped by church people here and there, for short
periods. I give an extract from his memoirs: "I went home with Rev. Mr.
Jones of Canandaigua, who kindly offered to give me my board for two
months if I would saw his wood and take care of his horse and cow. Mr.
Jones was an Englishman of a good education and strong mind, but a real
John Bull. He maintained his English habits and customs in his family
and dress, and in all his social life. He had his hair dressed and
powdered every day with a white dust, like flour. He had his strong
beer that he drank at dinner, and a cup after each meal, while he was
smoking his pipe. This he seemed to enjoy very much, especially after
dinner. He would then fill his pipe and his tumbler and get some book,
and smoke and drink and read until the contents of both pipe and
tumbler were exhausted, and then he would stretch himself before the
fire, in his study, flat on his belly, and sleep for half an hour. He
would then get up and go to his studies in good earnest."
Leonard spent two years in an academy in Geneva, studying and teaching
country schools. In November, 1819, he was twenty-one. He walked back
to Vermont, about three hundred miles, to get sixty dollars due him
when of age, which he had earned and was held by his guardian, and
returned, weary and footsore, in a season of bad weather, in snow and
rain, over muddy and frozen ground, in all about six hundred miles. Few
young men would now walk six hundred miles over the snowy, muddy and
frozen roads, through the new country, for sixty dollars. The next nine
months he boarded himself. With the help of his friends in Geneva, his
living cost him but six cents, and when he had butter on his bread, but
seven cents per week. He entered Hamilton College in Clinton, N. Y., in
September, 1820. He taught school during vacations. He entered Amherst
College on its organization in the sophomore class. Here is what he
says of it:
"The following are some of the facts in relation to my connection with
Amherst College: I entered that institution at the commencement of its
academic course in 1821. I entered the sophomore class. My class was
the first that recited a lesson in that institution, and I was the
first in my class called upon to recite. I continued a member of the
college until my class graduated in 1824. . . . At each of the
commencements after I entered Amherst I had an appointment. At the
close of the sophomore year, I was chosen as one of the prize speakers.
I obtained the first prize. At junior exhibition, which was at
commencement, at the close of the junior year, I had a poem. I had an
appointment for commencement at the close of senior year, but as I was
teaching in Chesterfield, N. H., and could not well leave school, I did
not fulfill."
Mr. Johnson commenced the study of theology Oct. 9, 1824.
From this point I have no written record of his life, as he died leaving no account, beyond his graduation from college.
I insert these extracts from my father's memoirs for several reasons.
They are interesting accounts of the struggles of a poor but brave boy
against adverse conditions, with a high purpose. They are interesting
accounts of life and conditions of his early years, and are part of the
history of our family. They also should persuade the younger generation
that hardships in youth are more often helps to success in life than
hindrances, if we meet them with a purpose to profit by them.
Leonard became a Presbyterian minister. He preached in Vermont,
Manchester and Bennington, and eastern and sourthern parts of New York
State, Brunswick, Hoosic Falls, Marlboro, Greenwich, Chenango Forks and
Triangle. While living at the latter place his health broke down
completely, and after two or three years of decline, he died Aug. 21,
1858. He carried through life the prominent characteristic of his
father's family of holding fearlessly and stubbornly to what he
believed was right, and opposing what he believed to be wrong, without
compromise, even though he should suffer by it, as he often did.
He was married March 18, 1827, to Harriet Narcissa Hatch, daughter of
Uriel Chittenden Hatch of Cavendish, Vt. She was born in Cavendish,
March 25, 1807, and died in Binghamton, N. Y., Oct. 29, 1881.
(At this point come in the Hatch and Chittenden genealogies, which see elsewhere.)
|
|
 |
