Memoirs of Jonathan Manly Joseph
Born March 18, 1842 near Zanesville, Ohio
The Genealogy of the Joseph Family
Typist Notes in italics: Typed as closely to the original as I could, a few spelling corrections-but mostly I tried to use the original grammar and spelling even when incorrect. The opinions expressed are those of Jonathan Manly Joseph and not mine. I did omit a violent and gruesome story of a battle between the Native Americans and some friends of our Joseph ancestors that took place in early Ohio and Kentucky- Jana Noall, typist.
Here is Jonathan Manly Joseph’s autobiography:
I have been promising myself and other persons for some years past to write a brief account of the Joseph family, as I remember it, for be it understood at the outset that I have no record or data of any kind to refer to or prove anything I may set down. All is tradition and lies behind the personal recollection of my grandfather, from whom I received all that will be here set down, previous to my own recollection.
The names and dates I shall give are so distinctly imprinted on my memory that I have no doubt of their correctness, although it is entirely possible there may be errors, for my grandfather went to his reward after a long and well-spent life more than fifty years ago, and on this 24th of January, 1907, for the first time, I attempt to write this chronicle. I am admonished to make no further delay, by my own palsied hand, that forbids a pen and with many a tremor guides a pencil.
The chronicle will be little more, at best, than a friendly but not exaggerated account of our people. As I understand it, there have been no great or distinguished ones among us. A few preachers of the gospel and still a less number of doctors, lawyers, or other professional men.
As a rule they have been farmer people owning the land they tilled, and with a strong aversion to working the land of other people. There have been many mechanics, in almost every handicraft. So marked is this fact that it would be difficult to find even a blood relation of the third degree who was not skillful with tools; so also it may be said, the mathematical faculty runs like a thread through the whole tribe. I have never known one not strongly marked by this faculty while many may have been, considering their meager opportunities, very remarkable. A strange thing may be said in this connection. These mathematicians were inveterate talkers, well read, especially in religious and political matters; prone to neglect their business and talk to anybody having time to listen. The mathematicians and talkers were also the finest mechanics. There was one exception so remarkable that I shall recur to it when I come to describe some of the individual members of the tribe.
The Physical Characteristics:
In physical characteristics the tribe were spare, somewhat above the medium height, erect, active, sound of body and of remarkably physical strength. I have known but one above six feet in height or in weight exceeding 200 pounds. As a rule the men were about five feet, ten inches tall and weighed from 156 to 185 pounds. The women from my grandfather’s account, and my own observations, are entitled to a place I this chronicle somewhat above that of the men. Intelligent, patient, prudent housewives, teachers, homebuilders, exemplary in their daily walk and conversation. A certain industrious thrift marked these women and the faculty of making and saving property marked them as superior to their brothers as a rule. I shall come back to this matter later, along with some facts in illustration.
I have never heard of one of our tribe afflicted with tuberculosis or cancer, which is indeed remarkable. With a very few exceptions the tribe has been temperate in all things, and these exceptions are traceable to intermarriage and inheritance.
In more than two hundred years (1885) since our ancestors came to America, no member of the tribe has ever been indicted, convicted, fined or imprisoned for a criminal offense.
While we are not found in the annals of courts as lawbreakers, be it said to our credit, neither are we found in the list of law makers. No Judge or General, Congressman or high official in any branch of human endeavor is to be found in all our tribe since the original William Joseph was appointed president of the council, or Colonial Governor of Maryland by Lord Baltimore in 1685.
The simple fact that not one of the tribe has ever held an important office is a strong proof of the tradition that we are of Hebrew extraction, descendants of the early apostates from the Jewish to the Christian faith, for it is a truth that the Hebrew race from Abraham down to 1907 have at no time, not excepting even Solomon, shown any considerable genius for political organization. A radical tendency to individually stand apart from the mass, and to refuse to march with it, either in politics or religion, account fully for the fact that none of our tribe has ever been distinguished either as an aspirant for or a holder of any important position among the children of men. In short, our kind of people cannot endure the chafing of any kind of harness whether political, religious or social.
Another indication of the truth of the tradition in relation to our genealogy is the unquestionable tendency to revert to the original belief in one God, to renounce the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity, and to accept the teaching of the Unitarian. The investigating, philosophical, logical brethren are already outside the orthodox church and believe in the unity rather than the mysterious Trinity.
For the past forty years I have been curious to see and talk with everyone I could find of the name of Joseph. I have found them in Baltimore, Cleveland, Cincinnati, St. Louis, Chicago, Portland, San Francisco, and many small towns. Whenever I have seen a sign on the street I have found time to interview the proprietor.
In all cases, they have been of Jewish extraction- most of them still adhering to the ancient faith. A few Christians descended from the apostates since the beginning of the Fourth Century of the Christian era for the apparent reason that the doctrine of the Trinity was not promulgated as a tenet of the Christian church until the Council of Constance, A.D. 326, and there was no great difference in fundamentals between the Jew and the Christian.
Beyond question our Joseph tribe has come down along the line of the apostates from the early centuries, has been identified with the Christian sects for more than sixteen hundred years, antedating the conversion of the Greek, the Roman, the Teuton, the Celt or the ancient Britain by perhaps several centuries. While the name is Hebrew beyond doubt, the tribe has been crossed with the German, English, Scotch, Irish, and Welsh until but a small fraction of the original Semitic blood remains.
Following the line of migration backward it passed from America to Wales, thence to England, thence to Germany, beyond which there is nothing but the tradition of a former settlement in Italy, and dispersion from that country after the conquest of the Goths.
In common with all people having a taint of Semitic blood there has ever been a persistent tendency to migrate, scatter out, seek a new country and not become fixed in any country. From Maryland to East Virginia, thence to West Virginia a few years before the Revolutionary War.
This settlement was at a place called the Fort near the confluence of the Cheat and Monongahela rivers, near Morgantown. This settlement was made by William Joseph about eighty years after the arrival in America of the original William. About the year 1800 the children of William began the third American migration, some going down the Ohio River and others across the wilderness to Central Ohio. About 1850 the fourth migration began to Indiana, Wisconsin, Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, California, and Kansas, until the members of the tribe are dispersed along the route across the continents from Baltimore to San Francisco, Seattle, Portland and Los Angeles.
My grandfather, who is my authority for this chronicle down to 1856, was born at Morgantown on June 10, 1773. His name was Jeremiah Joseph. He was the second son. His brothers were Lemuel, the eldest, Hezekiah, Nathan and John. There were three sisters who married, the eldest, a man of the name of Simpson, who removed to Point Pleasant on the Ohio River about the year 1800; the second a man of the name of Hoag settled at Vincennes; the third whose name was Sarah married James Musgrave and settled in Muskingum County, Ohio.
It is not my purpose to enter into any details concerning any of our tribe not bearing the name of Joseph, but confine myself to an account of Jeremiah Joseph and his descendants.
This grandfather, Jerry (Jeremiah) Joseph became an apprentice to a blacksmith. As soon as Jerry was big enough to “blow the bellows” he was apprenticed by indentures to the blacksmith trade for five years. He was to have three months schooling for the first three years, besides his board and clothes, and at the end of his time was to have a good set of tools and $100.00
Jerry was a strong boy physically, a natural mechanic and mathematician. A “smith” in those days was not a cabbler, a mender of broken hooks and chains, but a real workman in iron and steel. He must be able to “iron” a new wagon, and make all kinds of edged tools, aces, knives, of all kinds, and it was in the making and tempering of tools that the boy soon learned to excel hi8s master. The order for axes, knives, bits, etc., ere given conditionally that Jerry was to make them. This threw the rough heavy iron work on the master, a good man, but it chafed him and vexed him sorely. One day he determined to change the program. He set the boy to making tires for a new wagon, while he made a new ax for a man who was in a hurry. Next day the ax came back, broken, not good, not properly tempered. The man was angry. He said, “Bill, better you turn your shop hindside afore, you to be “prentice” and Jerry boss, go to work in “earnest” and “learn” the trade.” The upshot of the matter was that Jerry quit before his time was out, did not get the tools nor the $100.00 but quit in friendship with his master of whom he always spoke in kindly words.
Jerry was now nineteen years old, five feet and eight inches in height, weighed 170, straight and very strong, dark hair, dark-eyed but not black. He had a large head, a square forehead, a strong jaw. He parted his hair in the middle.
I have never needed a picture of him, for the picture of Thomas Jefferson in his old age, is grandfather as I knew him in his old age.
Jerry set up shop, courted Polly Smith and in 1793 they were married. Jerry was twenty. Polly was sixteen years old. They lived together until September 17, 1854, over 61 years.
Shortly after the wedding they were invited to a “frolic”. A new cabin was built for a new settler, the whole countryside turning out to build and warm the cabin. Everybody was expected to take a few “drachms” of whiskey, but it was not good form to get drunk. Jerry was mistaken in his capacity, took too much, in short got drunk and was put to bed. Polly was grieved, humiliated, disgraced, and when Jerry sobered up and realized the true state of affairs he said, “Well, Polly, I promise you and myself never to drink any more intoxicating liquor.” This promise he kept to the end of his life.
At this time Jerry set about increasing his slender stock of knowledge by borrowing and buying books. He devoured all the histories, books of travel and voyages of discovery he could lay hands on.
I once heard an old man say, “I reckon there is not a piece of ground in the known world of any consequence but what Jerry can tell you its latitude and longitude, and in fact all about it.” The careers and exploits of the great men of the earth from the earliest times he knew with all historical details. This reading habit he carried through life. Although his life was a very laborious one and he was diligent in his business, 60 years of persistent reading, investigating and thinking had accumulated a wonderful mass of information.
In the past 50 years I have met many scholars, professional men, great business men an several reputed statesmen, presidents of the United States, eminent judges, and ministers of the Gospel. I have often caught myself wondering, does this man know as much as my grandfather? Always the same conclusion- I think not.
His political faith was built on the foundation laid by Jefferson and his studies of the right s of man logically let him take his stand against slavery 50 years before any anti-slavery society. He clearly foresaw the great rebellion ten years before the crisis came. But to return to 1793.
Before beginning the chronicle of the lives of Jerry and Polly and their descendants, it is fitting that something be said of this grandmother of ours, who was in all respects worthy to be the wire and helpmate of Jerry. I know but little of her people and that little was given me by my grandfather. One stormy day a small ship was seen trying to pass the capse of Delaware. It was battling with the wind and waves. People gathered along the shore utterly helpless to render any assistance.
The ship was wrecked, went down with all on board, except a crippled Irish lad and a nameless little baby. This is the story the Irishman told. The ship was bringing Irish immigrants to America. The Lad’s name was Samuel Smith. He had been brought up about the waterside. He was a strong lad and though crippled in one leg, an expert and fearless swimmer. He had no relation on board and had amused himself playing with the little one, but did not know its name.
When the ship went down he was not frightened, and made no doubt of being able to reach the land, it seemed so near at hand. It was in fact nearly a mile away. As he came up from the sunken ship the child came with him. The generous soul of the Irishman forbid him to leave the child to perish. He clutched the babe, held it above the waves, called upon the Holy Virgin, “Hail Mary, Mother of God”, and began one of the most extraordinary battles for life known to those “who go down to the sea in ships.” Night came on, the people had left the beach, all except an old fisherman whose hut was nearby. He was waiting for the wreakage that might come ashore. At last Smith crawled upon the sand, still clutching the child. “it is drowned,” said the wrecker. “It is not”, said the Irishman- “I called upon the Holy Virgin- have yez a drop of whiskey?” “Aye”, said the wrecker. In a few minutes the child revived and Smith, having taken several generous drafts himself, after the manner of his countrymen, attempted to dance a jig with one foot, the other lacking several inches of reaching the ground. “Where are the others,” said Smith. “What others?” said the wrecker. “The crew, the people from the ship.” “They have not made land yet,” said the wrecker.
The young Irishman gave the nameless child to a neighboring woman, pushed on to the County of Kent and there settled down to work to same, to make a home. He was thrifty, prosperous and well behaved, in short a man, a gentleman.
After some years he thought [to] himself, I am old enough sure to get married but who can I get crippled that I am. There is pretty Mary Ferguson on the road to Dover, “Ah, indeed, she would please me well, the Scotch lassie, but no I hear this new church has got the neighborhood and Mary Ferguson among them gone over to the Methodists- mercy on them. Besides I am sure Mary would laugh at my limp leg.”
Now Samuel was well to do, had a pleasant face, a merry laugh and ready Irish wit, well dressed, drove a good team, and Mary never noticed his lame leg at all, but was well pleased to see him turn in at the water-trough to rest his team on the road to Dover; and so it came about in spite of the limp leg and new religion that Samuel and Mary understood each other, and having the unqualified approval of the Fergusons, arrangements were soon made. It was agreed that they should first stand before the priest at Dover, and Samuel conceded that it would do no harm to have the Methodist preacher say a few words at the home of the Fergusons.
And now prudent business Ferguson called Samuel aside and said, “I think it is only right Samuel that you should know the truth about Mary. She is as dear to us as our own, but she is not out own, or do we even know what her real name should be. She is the waif of a shipwreck near Cape Henlopen, and was brought ashore by a gallant Irish lad whose name I never heard. The lad and the babe were the only survivors of the wreck”. Now Samuel threw up his hands and shouted, “Hail Mary, Mother of God.” And for a long time the Fergusons thought the man was bereft of his reason—suddenly gone daft.
In the course of time Samuel and Mary Smith found their way to Morgantown and here in 1777 our grandmother was born. She was a comely, dignified woman, above the medium height, fair complexion, brown hair, a rather large prominent Roman nose, deep blue eyes that had at time the gleam of the Saxon blood in her veins, the fierce blue that Tacitus and Caesar speak of. She was very forceful, said to be utterly fearless of man or beast. She was the manager- and in many ways- the head of the family. She could read and write, but seldom did either; a typical frontier woman, a devout Methodist from her youth.
From 1793 until 1812 Jerry and Mary lived in Morgantown, Jerry at the forge and Mary at the wheel and loom. She manufactured all the clothing for the family. In those years there was born to them the following sons and daughters: Nathan, Noah, Nancy, johnathan,Lemuel, William, Sarah and Jeremiah Ferguson. After the removal to Ohio- Isaac Newton and Hetty Ann.
In 1810 Jerry went to the mouth of Middle Island Creek, built a flat boat, loaded it with apples and cider and poled it down the Ohio River, stopping at Point Pleasant to visit his sister, Mrs. Simpson, some day to be the grandmother of General U.S. Grant. Arriving at Cincinnati, where there was a settlement and quite a number of log cabins, he disposed of his boat and cargo to good advantage, bought a horse and took the trail through the wood for Zanesville, Ohio, where there was a land office and quite a settlement along the banks of the Muskingum River. His brother Lemuel had married Celia Smith (some years before he and Mary were married) and had settled in 1804, four miles east of Zanesville.
Arriving safely at his brother’s home in the woods, they set about finding a quarter section for Jerry. Six miles further into the unbroken forest they found a piece exactly to Jerry’s mind- a beautiful little creek, a grand sugar camp of large hard maple trees, a rocky cliff on one side of the creek, and about forty acres of excellent land on the other. The balance of the land was high, precipitous hills covered with a great variety of trees, but principally with magnificent white oak. “Here,” said Jerry, “is barrel stayes and wagon stuff, shingles and rails for 100 years- two veins of excellent coal ready for the forge, soon to be set up.” At the foot of a rocky knoll a great spring of sparkling water came sprawling over the stones, known to this day, far and wide, as the cool spring. Where the old Indian trail crossed the creek the largest tree in the state of Ohio grew, a giant sycamore, 20 feet in girth and 70 feet from the ground.
On the opposite side of the creek 100 yards distance stood the largest, the most symmetrical and magnificent elm on the face of the earth. I have seen more than 100 grown cattle often resting in the shade of this tree at one time. At the foot of the sycamore, Jerry clutched up two handfuls of earth after the manner of William the Norman when he landed in Britain, saying, “Here I raise my Ebenezer.” Having thus taken formal possession of the land, the two brothers went into camp at the spring. The woods were full of deer, wild turkey, timber wolves, wildcats and panthers. Having killed a wild turkey, they roasted him on the coals, and spent a comfortable night. In the morning an old Indian came to them, having seen the light of their campfire from his wigwam further up the creek. He brought a quarter of venison as a peace offering and invited them to come and visit him. He lived alone and was the last of his tribe in that beautiful valley.
They asked him his name, he said, “White-eye”, and the name of the creek? He replied “White-eye”, and so it has remained to this day—“White-eye.” Having entered the land and paid $200.00 in silver he set out on the trail for the flats of Grove Creek, anxious to see Polly and the children.
It was a lonesome ride through the forest. In due time he reached home, having been gone over three months with not a word from home. No daily mail thoses days. He had made enough to pay for the land and his horse out of the venture and brough home more money than he took away. Polly and the children rejoiced. Wheeling was quite a village. There were “Stores”, he bought stuff to make Polly and Nancy Sunday dresses, while the saddle bags and the pockets of the “great coat” were stuffed with things for the children. The great coat reached nearly to the ground and had a double cape. Polly had made it, picked, scoured, carded, spun the yarn, colored with butternut bark, wove the cloth, cut the coat and made it. Even the linen thread was the work of her hands. The big brass buttons with the American eagle were for ornaments. The fastenings were ponderous hooks and eyes. This coat was still doing duty as late as 1850. I have “tried it on” many times.
In the fall of 1812 Jerry went down the river with another flat boat, apples and cider, this time to the Falls of Ohio, now Louisville, Kentucky, sold out as before, and with his saddle bags well filled with Spanish silver, wet out for the old French settlement at Vincennes to visit his sister, Mrs. John Timberlake Hoag. The chief business of this man seems to have been the drinking of corn whiskey, sold them at twenty cents a gallon, jug and all, or if you found your own jug, then cents, one coon skin swapped for one jug of whiskey. As the coons were plentiful no man need go dry or suffer for the want of a jug or a “jag”. At the trading post a barrel was kept on “tap” with a gourd and a box full of maple sugar, and all comers were welcome to draw, sweeten and drink once. After that buy a jug or go dry.
Here Jerry was taken sick with the fever and ague, wracked with the “chills”, unable to take the long trail through the wilderness of Indiana and Ohio. Here he became acquainted with Joe Davies, the famous Kentuckian, soon after to fall at the battle of Tippecanoe. He was a fine specimen of a man.
Davies was posted here with a force of Kentucky hunters to watch the Indians who were to become troublesome. Tecumseh, the great Shawnee warrior, orator and statesman, was rapidly organizing the various tribes for the war of 1812-13.
The months wore away- the spring came. The time had arrived for the removal of the family to Ohio. Lemuel had gone to Virginia with pack horses to help bring jerry and his family Polly had not heard a word from Jerry since he started down the river the previous October. A rumor of a wrecked flat boat had found its way up the river. Said rumor was amplified and polished up as it passed from hand to hand, until it fitted Jerry’s case exactly, and so it was settled by the neighborhood and friends- Jerry will not return any more.
Polly was strongly advised to remain in Virginia. What could she do with such a brood of children in the deep and lonely wilderness? But the blood of conquering Goths was in her veins and the gleam of the fierce blue eyes put down all opposition. With a belief as firm as that of a Crusader that God was on her side, she ordered the horses to be packed. She did not lack for help, neighbors volunteered more pack horses than were needed. Everything was loaded, bed steads, chairs and tables, even the baby cradle, a wonderful black walnut affair made by Caleb Taney, a local genius and cabinet maker. This cradle was still doing duty in 1863. I have heard my grandfather say that he had rocked his children, grandchildren and great- grand-children in this cradle-more than twenty souls. The names of all of them and more will be given in this chronicle.
The train set out through the woods single file, with bells made by Jerry swingin on the necks of the horses. I remember nothing of the details of this march except that Noah brought along his bear “Guff” and that Nancy carried the baby (my father) all the way. All arrived safely and settled temporarily at the place where Fairview Chapel now stands, five miles east of Zanesville on the Marietta Road, on the original land entered by Lemuel Joseph, and here lie buried side by side the two brothers and the two sisters. Polly brought along a good supply of apple and peach seeds. Strong in the faith that the Lord would see to it she would do her part and in due time send her children and neighbors good apples.
It must be set down that there never was in all the countryside an orchard of seedling trees to be compared with this in the quality of the fruit. And it be further set down, not a bushel was ever sold for money. A number of these trees were still alive in 1875. Polly also dug up two little black locust trees and carried them along to be planted at the new home in remembrance of the old one. These were set out in front of the new cabin and were still alive in 1875.
Let us now go back to Vinvennes. Spring had come, Jerry still “shaking” every few days, barely able to mount horses, resolved to set out and risk the swollen rivers and the murderous Indians, in a desperate attempt to get back to Polly and the children.
Colonel Davis said, “the chance is desperate, you may slip through but the Tecumseh’s redskins are watching the trails, no outbreak yet but it is liable to come any day- not on the warpath yet.” So he set out and came through safely, having seen but one Indian and he a friendly one, who generously gave him a big piece of venison and some dried fish, and Jerry gave him a good supply of tobacco and a Spanish dollar, whereupon the Indian said, “I will walk with you a half a day’s march to the ford of the river. There are young men near there hunting. I am going to visit them.”
When they came to the river the Indian did not stop as Jerry expected, but walked ahead. He had provided himself with a long staff or pole, moved very slowly, several times he was up to his waist. He was following the crest of a crooked bar; it was treacherous and a dangerous ford. Safely over, the red man marched on a head saying not a word. Jerry observed him well, the spring of his step, his dignified poise, his strong sinewy body, -he was in the prime of his manhood; he had a wonderfully strong, intelligent face, he knew considerable English, he was a master of pantomime, and they had no trouble in understanding each other. Jerry offered several times to walk and insisted that the Indian should ride, but he declined.
The evening came on, the Indian selected a camp some distance from the trail where there was a spring and plenty of dry wood; they boiled venison. Jerry had salt, pepper and a big piece of smo,ed bacon, maple sugar and corn bread.
They talked until late at night; the redman knew the geography of the whole country between the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, and from the lakes to the mountains of Tennessee. He asked many questions about jerry’s business through the country, about his children and the wife he was hurrying back to see, about the trip down the river and how much money he made. Had he been with St. Clair at his defeat, or with Wayne on the little Miami? Jerry answered truly he was not a warrior but a blacksmith, and never killed anybody, did not believe in killing people- that peace was better than war.
With perfect confidence they lay down and slept together side by side. In the morning the Indian said, “You will see no white man for two days and no Indians at all, but if you should see Indians they would be bad Indians.” Whereupon he took from his belt a piece of red keel, made some marks on jerry’s great coat and told him what to do and said, “The red man only kills his enemy.” They sat down smoked, shook hands and parted without a word.
Riding along and thinking over their conversation he concluded the Indian had gathered a great deal of information from him about the white settlements, and especially about Joe Davies and his hunters at Vincennes. Years afterwards he used to say, “Whoever he was he must have been the Dan Webster among his own people, for he was a genuine orator, dignified, wise, with a lofty, commanding look far above any red man I ever saw, and it was Tecumseh then on his way to arouse the Wyandottes, Delawares and Sanduskys I have no doubt.”
Without mishap and without seeing another Indian, Jerry arrived safely at his brother Lemuel’s greatly surprised to find Polly and the children already there. He had been gone about eight months, four months longer than he expected. Polly said, “Something has gone wrong, of course, but Jerry is strong, prudent, temperate and above all civil, he will return.” There was a feast, a day of thanksgiving and the little Methodist settlement all attended. From that day Jerry always said grace at the table. He never joined the church, he never gave a reason for not doing so, he was profoundly religious, and lived not in the fear but in the love of God and his neighbor, and every man was his neighbor. He drew no line of color, creed or nationality.
It was in the month of May, the brethren turned out, camped at the spring on the banks of the White-eye, built a cabin, grubbed, burned the brush and girdled the big trees, and on the 10th day of June 1812, planted five acres of corn. This was Jerry’s birthday. He was thirty-nine years old.
The forge was soon afterwards set up and it was Jerry’s destiny to work at his trade for yet thirty years more. Making in all fifty-five years that he wrought at the anvil. The little valley settled rapidly. Soon there was a cabin on every quarter section. The sound of the woodman’s axe and the crack of the falling timber was heard in every direction, the great task of clearing the land of the enormous growth of timers was begun, a task that require the strenuous labor of thirty years.
The privations and hardships of these pioneers of the wilderness have been but poorly appreciated by the succeeding generations. That we may cherish in grateful remembrance the memory of our fathers and mothers, I will relate some of the experiences of the first years, with its labors, joys, and sorrows.
Jerry had plenty of work making axes, mattocks, hoes, chains and nails, ironing wooden mouldboard plows, and in fact all kinds of making, fixing and mending with iron and steel; buy money among these poor people was very scarce, much of his pay he never received or even expected, and this gave his no trouble whatever- indeed it was a source of real comfot to him to be able to help any poor man or woman struggling to build up a home, but Polly did not always approve- she thought Jerry was a poor collector and some of his customers shiftless. Plain spoken and courageous, she did not hesitate to lecture some of these customers soundly and at times acrimoniously, but when the children of someone was sick she was the one unfailing resource of the whole community. At such times all she had in the way of remedies, food, clothing and personal attention were given as freely as water from the cool spring.
The oldest child, Nathan, died in childhood. The three boys, Noah, Jonathan and Lemuel, now began the task of clearing the land. This task was not finished until after I was able to grub and burn brush, and I have worked many long days in “the clearing”. About the year 1815 the smallpox broke out. This was before Jenner’s discovery of vaccination, but not before the practice of inoculation. Polly at once put her house in order by compelling all of them to get ready by dieting, except Jerry who declined to leave off eating meat. All had the smallpox, all came through without being badly marked except Jerry who was badly pitted. It is worth recording that Polly’s treatment brought the whole settlement through the scourge without the loss of a single life.
How the children managed to acquire a good common school education and all become proficient in music I do not know, but that they could do in concert the “buckwheat notes” and read and write music I can testify in my own knowledge. Perhaps Jerry had taught the children for he was a fiddler as well as a blacksmith. I remember having heard him play “money must” as late as 1850.
There seem to be some discrepancy between Jonathan's memory and census reports for the families listed below- please use the following information with caution and as a starting point for further research- thank you! Now back to the autobiography-
Jonathan, the third son, lived to be 18 years old and died with what the doctors called typhus fever, after having been bled copiously according to the medical science of that day. His memory was fondly cherished as the flower of the family. That he died of quackery there is no doubt. The remaining eight sons an daughters were all married between 1825 and 1841, and these years I will pass over by giving their names and the names of their children. I shall enter into no details as that would increase this chronicle far beyond the compass of purpose in writing it.
Noah Joseph married Jane Officer. Four children were born to them: Mandana, Patterson Officer, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Galeton. All lived to have families of their own, except Albert who remained a bachelor.
Nancy Joseph married Thomas Officer. There were five children; Amanda, Mary, Sarah, Hetty and Madison. Lemuel Joseph married Martha Richey. The children were William Webster, John Richey, Ulysses, Mary Thompson, Noah Jeremiah, Harrison, Jane, Thomas, Sarah, Nancy Naomi and Abraham Stiles.
William Joseph married Mary Ann Pyle. The children: Edwin Worthington, Salina Louisa, Celia Ann, Mary Elizabeth Susan, Jeremiah Loftus, John Pyle and Thomas Ewing. Of this family I will have more to say further on. A second marriage with Eliza Moore. The children were Adelia Alice, Loyola Brittain and William Elmore. Every one of these children lived to be men and women.
Sarah Joseph married James Maxwell. Their children were Dianatha Irene, Margaret Ellen, Leonidas Mariton, Mary Almeda, Rachel Jane, Nancy Hildreth, Naomi, Celesta and Hetty Amanda.
Isaac Newton Joseph married Nancy Richey. Their children were Hortense, hetty Augusta, Leonidas, Martha, James Madison, Thomas Gorwin, and Eleanor Emiline Jane.
Hetty Ann married Benjamin Crane. Their children were Robert Taylor, Caroline Gordon, Thaddeus Kosiusko, Theresa Sobieski, Jeremiah Ferguson, Emmett, Mary Joseph and Charles Fremont.
Jermiah Ferguson Joseph married Naomi Walls Davis. Their children were Jonathan Manly, Hetty Ann, William Licurgus, Leonidas, Rebecca Margaret, Edwin Newton, Ida Mary, Charles Sumner, Nancy Naomi and Benjamin Ellsworth.
I might give a list of quite a number of the great-grandchildren of Jerry and Polly, but it would be very incomplete and therefore I will omit it. The youngest of these grandchildren are more than 45 years old, a number more than 70 years old. A large majority lived to have big families. How many bear the name of Joseph I do not know. I judge, however, there are considerable more than one hundred. About two thirds of the grandchildren have passed over the dark river; as I have known all of these cousins personally except the five Officers. I should be glad to say something in description of all of them, but with a few exceptions I am obliged to forego the pleasure.
My mother’s name was Naomi Walls Davis. She was of Scotch and Irish lineage. Her ancestors were among the early immigrants to Virginia, the Hills on her mother’s side and the Davis’ on her father’s. The hills and Davis’ migrated mainly to the south, very few coming to Ohio. There were a number of notable people, distant relations, cousins and second cousin of my mother. General A.P. Hill of the Confederate Army, who was killed at Appomattox, was a first cousin, and Jefferson Davis a cousin on her father’s side. Her father’s name was Jonathan. He died in Virginian when my mother was three years old, leaving almost destitute a widow and seven children. Their names were Amaxiah, Elia, Robert, William, Rebecca, Manly and Naomi. Jerry and Polly, hearing of the death of their old friend, went at once on horseback to see what could be done. Polly brought Naomi home with her. More than forty years after this incident, and after mother had gone to her reward, one winter evening sitting around the open fireplace in Iowa, we children all at home, father told us a story:
Said he, “I was a boy then 14 years old when Daddy and Mother came home bringing Naomi, riding behind mother on horseback. I ran out to meet them. Mother said, ‘here Ferguson I have brought you a little pet, a little beauty- lift her down.” She was bareheaded, her hair was thick with many a curl that clustered around her head. She was blue-eyed and a little bit freckled, and her cheek was like a rose in the snow. I too, her in my arms and gave her a kiss of welcome before her feet touched the ground.” Whereupon my poor father so lonesome without Naomi broke down and cried like a little child. Naomi was not adopted. Jerry and Polly simply kept her as they did their own. When Ferguson was 30 and Naomi 20 they were married. An addition was built to the house of hewed logs, and here in the same house with Jerry and Polly they lived until the day of their death. And be it said to the credit of all, there never was a dispute or quarrel, and the wants and suggestions of the old folks received first attention at all times.
In this old house all of the ten children of Naomi and Ferguson were born. I was the oldest of this family: born on March 18, 1842. My father said, “Let usname the boy Caus Marcias Cariolinas.” Grandmother said, “Name him for your brother Jonathan and his grandfather Davis and my brother Manly.” And so the boy was named Jonathan Manly Joseph. Father said he did not like the idea of naming the boy for three dead men but grandmother said, “They have not been dead near so long as that old Roman Skeeziks Cariolinas.” So the boy started in the race, handicapped with a name that people said was a whole mouthful. Nobody called the boy Jonathan. Bub, Johnny, Jack, Joe and Johnny Cane, the latter because of the fierce fighting temper manifested in childhood, but which a gentle, kind-hearted mother smoothed out by telling me pitiful stories. This was rather overdone, for when the boy came to school he could not read a pathetic story without weeping, which was quite amusing sometimes to the school, and a great humiliation to the boy. This weakness is still with me in my old age.
And now, my children, I must tell you something about this grandfather of yours, Jeremiah Ferguson Joseph; When he was large enough to blow the bellows he was put into the shop to help his father and learn the trade. Swinging the sledge and forging heavy iron developed a wonderful muscular organization, but he despised the trade and quit it, preferring to work in the open, grubbing, chopping and clearing land. Noah was married and Lemuel went to learn the wagon-making trade. The clearing fell on William and Ferguson. These two were blondes, Roman-nosed, fierce-gleaming blue eyes. They were distinctly of Polly’s race of people. All of the rest of the children were of jerry’s dark-eyed race, except Hetty. William and Ferguson were of larger stature than the others five feet-ten inches in height, weighing between 170 and 180 pounds. Both were spare and muscular. I never heard either of these men boast of their strength and the anecdotes I shall relate will be from my own observation, or from stories told me by neighbors. Both were famous singers, both inherited the reading habit from their father, and were men of wide information and very decided convictions, but neither was the equal of their father in acquirements. William was a good speaker, best of the family, and a skillful, earnest debater. Ferguson was not fluent, in fact was timid about speaking in public, but he was a fine performer on the flute and a very uncommon mathematician. Both were, as all their brothers, good mechanics, but as a brilliant conversationalist, a fine mechanic, and a master of the higher mathematics, Lemuel was considered as far above any of his brothers.
Of these five sons of Jerry and Polly not one ever developed such skill in accumulating property, nor did either leave an estate of greater value than the land their father gave them. Neither did either fail to make a good living and give his children a better chance for education than he had had.
When I awakened to consciousness there were five children in the family which I afterwards learned were not brothers and sisters, but cousins, children of William and Mary. Their mother had died before I can remember, and grandmother had taken them in charge. They were Worthington, Salina, Mary, Jerry and Thomas. These cousins have to this day seemed nearer to me than any of the others. Indeed my love for them has always been the same as for my own brothers and sisters; I do not recall a single instance of mistreatment from any of them. From this time until 1848 was one long summer day.
Grandfather, his voice and head quivering with a slight palsy, led us on many an expedition along the creek fishing, through the deep woods and over the hills and hollows. The mulberry service berry, blackberry, raspberry, huckleberry, persimmon, butternut, walnut, hazelnut, hickorynut, and chestnuts grew in profusion, while the foxgrapes, the best of all its kind, sprawled over the dogwood bushes. There was always an expedition planned for the good days coming. The young oaks, good for basket stuff, hickorys for scrub brooms and axe handles, the elms and lindens for bark to be peeled for chair bottoms were marked for future use, while we were told many stories of woodcraft and wild beasts.
Some of these stories would be well worth preserving with Hans Christian Anderson’s stories for children. I will only relate one or two that had to do with the panther, which grandfather called “painter”. As for bears, wolves and wildcats, very little account was taken of them, but the “painter” was a beast to be dreaded.
Once upon a time the hoses strayed away in the woods and grandfather started out to find them. Having gone several miles without finding any sign of the horses he turned to come home. There was a large fallen tree across the path, and upon this log he sat down to rest. Looking back along the trail he got a glimpse of a large grey fox following along his track. He lay down upon the log with the purpose of scaring the fox out of his wits if he should cross the log. He held the bridle so that he could swing the heave iron bridle bits and strike the moment that he jumped the log. He did not have long to wait. H was already amused with the thought of knocking the fox off the log, when there appeared above him the head and forefeet of an enormous “painter”. He sprung to his feet and swung the bridle and struck the beast a heavy blow with the bits in the eye, shouting at the same time at the top of his voice. The big cat sprang into the air, spitting and growling, and when he alighted made several turns around and around. His light had gone out on one side, and he was greatly disconcerted. “it took him longer to make up his mind what to do next than it did me, and when I jumped the creek a mile away I was still running like Gilpin’s horse for a thousand pounds. Worse frightened than the grey fox could have possibly been.”
In the early days the hogs ran through the woods, made their own living on roots, acorns and nuts. The old settlers called these things meat. Sometimes the hogs would wander off and go wild, and when they did they were as hard to kill and were far more courageous and dangerous than the wolves and bears. A wild boar was a dangerous beast. To keep up an acquaintance with the hogs, which always kept together in bands, grandfather would occasionally take a sack of corn on horseback and feed them.
One of these occasions he located the hogs by a terrible uproar-something was going wrong. He slipped off the horse and taking his gun, crept along from tree to tree expecting to get a shot at a bear. A crooked tree had fallen out of root and on the arch or bow of the tree was crouched a larger “painter”. He was trying to catch a pig. He would spring upon one and try to regain the bow with the pig, but the old hogs charges him so fiercely that he would drop the pig and spring back on the tree. This trick he tried a number of times, the whole herd storming around. At last, determined to have a pig, he delayed an instant too long. A fierce tusker got his foot as he sprang for the log and pulled him down. They made short work of him. In a few minutes his hide was being stretched in pieces of various shapes and sizes. After the quieted down, grandfather rode up to them, made friends with them by distributing the corn, and examined the skull of the panther. He had been a large one and very old, as indicated by his worn and broken teeth. He had also been blind in one eye, whereupon grandfather said, “Sir Painter, I think I met you once before some years ago.”
In 1844 cousin Jerry went to live with our Uncle James Maxwell and the following year Tommy went to his father, who had married his second wife.
And now the days of all sunshine for me were past and gone. I was able to do many kinds of chores and light work. The tasks and jobs that had been done by Jerry and me together now fell upon me alone. However, grandfather of ten helped me out, and we found many excuses to take to the woods. Grandmother needed many kinds of bark for colorings and for medicine, and many kinds of plants good for a great variety of ailments, and be it recorded there never was a death or case of serious illness demanding a regular physician in our family from my first recollection until the day of her death in 1854. I well remember many of these plants.
All the following and more were to be found in some nook or corner, hill or hollow on the old home farm: Boneset, gentian, myrrh, Kohosh, Virginia snakeroot, sasparilla, solomons seal, ginseng, elecompagn, stramonium, belladonna, vermafugo, percoon, liverwort, calamus, peppermint, spearmint, horehound, and catnip, wintergreen, dittany, pennyroyal, and spikenard. There was a peculiar lonely place where grandfather liked to rest. It was known as the hogback.
Here there were two deep ravines or hollows densely covered with timber brush and wild grape vines.
The hogback was an irregular shaped knoll not larger than a medium sized hay rake. Nearby the two little brooks came together and a few rods away fell into White-eye creek. Here there was a patch of green award, a buckeye shade tree and a stranded saw-log lodged against the tree by the great flood of 1846. Here was manufactured many wonderful whistles and many whips made of elm bark, and here during these rambles he found time and inspiration to amuse me with a great many stories of his long life. I was curious to know and paid strict attention, plying him with many questions and was never satisfied until every detail was related necessary for the picture in my mind. I have no doubt that he took more time with me than the hehad ever taken with any of his own children. Perhaps it was in his mind, although he never charged me with it, that someday I would put down in writing some part of the story as tribute to his memory for at this time he was so stricken with palsy that he could not write at all.
There were school in plenty about the house and mother taught me to spell. I well remember learning the letters and that I could run over them from memory backwards with equal facility. When and how I learned to read I do not know, but I could read when I first started to school. I was sent to school a few weeks in 1848, but in the spring o f 1849 I was presented with a hoe and sent to the field like a hired man, and now began the hardest part of my life. I never worked so hard nor with so much pain and discontent as during the years before I was fifteen. I never went to school except during the winters until 1861.
In December, 1849 I was sent to school to a beardless young man of the name of Thomas Herman. To him more than anyone else I am indebted for a certain hunger and thirst for knowledge that has always remained with me. I went to school with a spelling book, a few sheets of foolscap paper, a bottle of homemade ink and one goose-quill. In the evening Herman said, “you need a new first reader. I will bring you one in the morning. Tell your father the price is ten cents.” When I saw the book full of pictures I was delighted beyond measure. My mother covered the book with pink calico. The teacher said, “You have a nice new book, keep it clean. Study it well so you will make no mistakes when you read before the school. Especially be careful about the spelling lesson.” When I had read this book through Herman discovered that I had committed the book to memory and could repeat it from end to end. He had put me in a mental arithmetic class at the first. This was so natural and easy that I had no trouble with it. He said, “I will bring you a third reader in the morning. Tell your father the price is twenty-five cents.” Some of the scholars thought that he had made a mistake and called his attention to the fact that I had not been through the second reader.
He said “No mistake, he is better now than most of the third reader class.”
Herdman was a splendid penman and took special delight in teaching this branch. He had wonderful success and some of the boys became very proficient, but as for myself, I knew how it should be done but never could do it. When the teacher would fix my fingers, with great patience and kindness, put me in the right position and say, “now go easy and slow” the pen would jump and sputter, making pothooks that were a sight to see. I could draw well with a pencil but could never write well with a pen.
********** part of the biography is missing***************
Said to be of German extraction but came from Wales. Great -grandmother’s name was Sarah Stafford.
Their children were as follows: Nathan, Lemuel, Jeremiah, Hezekiah, John, Rosanna, who married Henry Amos, Rebecca, who married Hezekiah Wade, Sallie-James Musgrave, Elizabeth- William Hogue, Fanny- William Knight.
They lived in Delaware where the older children were born. Jeremiah, our grandfather, was born in Maryland, the others in Virginia, Grandfather came to Ohio about 1812. His wife’s name was Mary Smith. She was a native of Kent county, Delaware, was married at sixteen. She had three brothers, two of whom married- Noah and Asa. The latter was a sea captain. His sisters were Piercy, who died unmarried. Celia married Lemuel Joseph. Nancy married Henry Sheets and lived in Greensburg, PA. Her husband was a saddler. Rachel first married Joseph Snodgrass and later Frank- a cousin of her first husband. They lived in Waynesburg, Pa. Hetty never married. She went to live with a family named Staley, and moved from Morgantown, West Virginia to the vicinity of Cincinnati, and afterwards died, in a Rogers family. She is supposed to have had property left her, but her friends never got any of it. She had some property on White River, Indiana. Basha married Elias Coverdale and came to Ohio, where after her father’s death, she married a Grandstafff. He son Lemuel was a physician at Fort Wayne.
Grandfather Joseph has six sons: Jonathan, Noah, William, Newton, Lemuel and Ferguson. Jonathan died unmarried. Noah had three sons; Patterson, Thomas and Albert, one daughter Mandana who married John Dunlap and lived in Hopkinton, Iowa. Thomas lived in Quincy, Illinois. Albert went to California.
Lemuel’s sons were Webster, who went to California in 1849, came back, married Emeline Groves and became a M.E. Minister. John, who is somewhere in Iowa; Ulysses, who is in California, as is Harrison also. Abram, near Sioux City, Iowa. The girls- Mary Thomson who married W. Smith, who died in the army. She is living in Oakland, California. Jane married Alonzo Depu, proprietor of the National Hotel in Sioux City, Iowa. Sarah and Nancy- do not know who they married.
William’s family; Worthington went to California- last heard from in Utah. Selena Morrison died in Wisconsin. Celia Peairs now in Jamestown, Ohio. John died in the army. Mary Tharp who died in Wisconsin. Thomas was killed by the Indians in Montana. Susan lives in Dakota, Alice Coe- dead. Loyola in Dakota, Ellsworth in Dakota.
Sallies’ family; Dyantha Goldrick, Mary Harper, Rachel Groves, and Nancy Dickson in Wisconsin, Almeda, James in Iowa, Celestia Stephenson in Minnestoa, Naomi in Nebraska, Hettie Williamson died in Wisconsin.
Ferguson’s family settled in Warren County, Iowa. Jack lives in Iowa, Hettie, Ida Beckley and Eddie. Leonidas died in the army.
Nancy’s family; Amanda Thurslow, Laselle, Iowa, Mary Lindsay same, Sarah Wolff, Marion, Ohio.
Newton’s family: Thomas Corwin, Labette, Kansas. Jams Madison in Texas, Civil engineer; Leonidas in Kansas; Ortensy, Martha and Ella died.
This is the end of the autobiography that I have in my possession.
Here is a picture of Jeremiah Ferguson Joseph born about 1811 in West Virginia , father of Jonathan Manly Joseph (picture from ancestry.com)
Here is a picture of Jeremiah Ferguson Joseph born about 1811 in West Virginia , father of Jonathan Manly Joseph (picture from ancestry.com)
