following up. In 1677, John W. m. Expect, had issue, 1. John, 2. Haggai, 3. Expect, 4. Ruhamah, 5. . Desire. "Hear lyes y bodye of Mrs Expect Wilber, Ye stream of Jordan sh' as crost ore And now expeacts me on ye other shore : I live in hope her soon to join ; Her earthlye yeeres were forty and nine." From Gravestone in Pekussett, North Parish. This is unquestionably the same John who afterward (1711) married Tabitha Hagg or Ragg. But if this were the case, she seems to have died early; for only three years after, namely, 1714, we have evidence that he married Winifred, daughter of Lieutenant Tipping. He seems to have been a man of substance, for we find him in 1696 conveying "one undivided eightieth part of a salt-meadow" in Yabbok, and he commanded a sloop in 1702. Those who doubt the importance of genealogical studies fuste potius quam argumento erudiendi. I trace him as far as 1723, and there lose him. In year he was chosen selectman. that No gravestone. Perhaps overthrown when new hearse-house was built, 1802. He was probably the son of John, who came from Bilham Comit. Salop. circa 1642. This first John was a man of considerable importance, being twice mentioned with the honorable prefix of Mr. in the town records. Name spelt with two l-s. "Hear lyeth ye bod [stone unhappily broken.] Mr. Ihon Willber [Esq.] [1 inclose this in brackets as doubtful. To me it seems clear.] Ob't die [illegible; looks like xviii. ] . 1693.] ... • iii [prob. paynt deseased seinte : A friend and [fath]er untoe all ye opreast, " It is greatly to be lamented that this curious epitaph is mutilated. It is said that the sacrilegious British soldiers made a target of this stone during the war of Independence. How odious an animosity which pauses not at the grave! How brutal that which spares not the monuments of authentic history! This is not improbably from the pen of Rev. Moody Pyram, who is mentioned by Hubbard as having been noted for a silver vein of poetry. If his papers be still extant, a copy might possibly be recovered. THE BIGLOW PAPERS No. I. A LETTER FROM MR. EZEKIEL BIGLOW OF JAALAM TO THE HON. JOSEPH T. BUCKINGHAM, EDITOR OF THE BOSTON COURIER, INCLOSING A POEM OF HIS SON, MR. HOSEA BIGLOW. JAYLEM, june 1846. MISTER EDDYTER: Our Hosea wuz down to Boston last week, and he see a cruetin Sarjunt a struttin round as popler as a hen with 1 chicking, with 2 fellers a drummin and fifin arter him like all nater. the sarjunt he thout Hosea hed n't gut his i teeth cut cos he looked a kindo's though he'd jest com down, so he cal'lated to hook him in, but Hosy wood n't take none o' his sarse for all he hed much as 20 Rooster's tales stuck onto his hat and eenamost enuf brass a bobbin up and down on his shoulders and figureed onto his coat and trousis, let alone wut nater hed sot in his featers, to make a 6 pounder out on. wal, Hosea he com home considerabal riled, and arter I'd gone to bed I heern Him a thrashin round like a short-tailed Bull in fli-time. The old Woman ses she to me ses she, Zekle, ses she, our Hosee's gut the chollery or suthin anuther ses she, don't you Bee skeered, ses I, he 's oney amakin pottery1 ses i, he 's ollers on hand at that ere busynes like Da & martin, and shure enuf, cum mornin, Hosy he cum down stares full chizzle, hare on eend and cote tales flyin, and sot rite of to go reed his varses to Parson Wilbur bein he haint aney grate shows o' book larnin himself, bimeby he cum back and sed the parson wuz dreffle tickled with 'em as i hoop you will Be, and said they wuz True grit. Hosea ses taint hardly fair to call 'em hisn now, cos the parson kind o' slicked off sum o' the last varses, but he told Hosee he did n't want to put his ore in to tetch to the Rest on 'em, bein they wuz verry well As thay wuz, and then Hosy ses he sed suthin a nuther about Simplex Mundishes or sum sech feller, but I guess Hosea kind o' did n't hear him, for I never hearn o' nobody o' that name in this villadge, and I've lived here man and boy 76 year cum next tater diggin, and thair aint no wheres a kitting spryer 'n I be. If you print 'em I wish you'd jest let folks know who hosy's father is, cos my ant Keziah used to say it's nater to be curus ses she, she aint livin though and he's a likely kind o' lad. EZEKIEL BIGLOW. THRASH away, you'll hev to rattle On them kittle-drums o' yourn, "Taint a knowin' kind o' cattle 1 Aut insanit, aut versos facit. — H. W. Put in stiff, you fifer feller, Let folks see how spry you be, Guess you 'll toot till you are yeller 'Fore you git ahold o' me! Thet air flag's a leetle rotten, "T would n't suit them Southun fellers, They're a dreffle graspin' set, We must ollers blow the bellers Wen they want their irons het; May be it's all right ez preachin', But my narves it kind o' grates, Wen I see the overreachin' O' them nigger-drivin' States. Them thet rule us, them slave-traders, Haint they cut a thunderin' swarth (Helped by Yankee renegaders), Thru the vartu o' the North! We begin to think it's nater To take sarse an' not be riled; Who'd expect to see a tater All on eend at bein' biled? |