Mile-Stones

BEING A BRIEF RECORD WHICH CONCERNS THE COMING AND GOING OF YEARS, AND THE RISE AND FALL OF ADMINISTRATIONS, FROM 1836 TO 1861, AS TOLD BY THE JOURNAL OF A COUNTRY PARSON

[Some uncertainty having been expressed as to the genuineness of the extracts from the Journal of a Country Parson, published in the July Atlantic, a brief sketch of the writer of the Journal is here given. The Reverend Caleb Bradley was born in Dracut, now Lowell, in 1772. He was a great-grandchild of the noted Hannah Dustan. He graduated at Harvard in 1793, and was settled over the parish of Westbrook, Maine, where he remained during the rest of his life. His Journal dates from 1829 to three days before his death in 1861. It is of interest both as a chronicle of the time and as the writing of a man of marked originality.]

Jan. 1, 1836. Friday. New Year’s Day. O may it be a happy New Year for me, for my family, and for all the families of this town. May I be diligent, faithful, and persevering, not daub with untempered mortar, but be always plain and pungent.

Dec. 31, 1836. Saturday. This day closes the year. I and my family have enjoyed good health, and my farm has yielded abundance. Notwithstanding I have received some abuse by the way of tattling and slander, yet I can imagine that it will be all for the best. It is only for me to be still and God will order all things aright.

Jan. 1, 1837. Sabbath. A cold snow storm. This year will no doubt be pregnant with great events. A new president will be introduced into the chair, and Jackson will retire from his labors as chief magistrate.

March 4, 1837. Saturday. Went into the city. All bluster and noise. Some rejoicing at the political death of Jackson, and that Van Buren takes the chair, others mourning at his elevation. Hope he will be a whole president, and show no more affection nor favor for one political party than another.

March 11, 1837. Saturday. The inquiry is, “Have you seen Jackson’s dying speech?” “No, and don’t wish to.” “Have you seen Martin Van Buren’s inaugural address ?” “No, but have it in my pocket, and shall look at it at my leisure.” “Well, you will find it rather a smooth kind of thing. He will not consent to a law to emancipate the slaves in the District of Columbia, unless the slaveholding states wish for it.” So he has committed himself.

Dec. 31, 1837. Sabbath. Rather a warm day. It has been a year of pressure, money scarce, provisions high, flour eleven dollars and sometimes twelve dollars a barrel. This year will be remembered as the political death of Andrew Jackson, who has been a Dictator and Tyrant for eight years past. I consider him as having been raised up as a scourge and a curse.

Jan. 1, 1838. Monday. The salutation a “Happy New Year” echoes and reëchoes through the land. I would sincerely wish prosperity temporal and spiritual to my wife, to my children, to the families with whom I am connected by the ties of nature, or the bonds of friendship, to my town, to my state, to my country, to the world.

The Abolition question is put aside for a moment, but it must be disposed of sooner or later. Lord hasten the time. Another matter will soon come before Congress, the annexation of Texas. O may we be kept from having any political connection with that portion of the continent, whose inhabitants, many of them, are made up of the offscouringof creation. Thieves, robbers, murderers, man-stealers, and the like characters, such are the inhabitants of Texas. The Lord have mercy upon them!

March 12, 1838. Tuesday. Fine summer day, my birthday. I must be sixtysix years old. Is it possible that I have lived so long and to so little purpose ? I have preached much, prayed much, visited many sick chambers, conversed with many dying, and pointed to the sinner the way to Heaven. It can’t be known in this life how much good or harm I have been the means of doing. I have had remarkable health, a good support, much enjoyment, some anxiety, some patience, some irritation. I have had my share of comfort. Laus Deo.

Dec. 31, 1838. Monday. The year is gone as a tale that is told.

Jan. 1, 1839. Tuesday.

Our days run thoughtlessly along,
Without a moment’s stay,
Just like a story or a song We pass our lives away.

Dec. 31, 1839. Tuesday. Very cold. Evening at the City Hall to hear the report of the Harrisburg delegation, who had returned after having nominated a president and vice president for the next four years. John Neal made the report, and was very animating in his remarks. I hope the result will be equal to his wishes.

Jan. 1, 1840. Wednesday. Happy New Year to us all, and it will be if we live as we ought.

Dec. 31, 1840. Thursday. While writing this, it is moderating, and the weather mild. The early part of the year there was a great religious excitement. Then politics took the front seat. The presidential election became the engrossing subject, and the great question was, who shall be the next President. The first Wednesday in this month closed the scene, and William Henry Harrison was said to be elected.

Jan. 1, 1841. Friday. Warm and moderate. I wish to all who cast their eyes upon this page, whether it be this year, or the next, or twenty years hence, or forty, or a hundred, a happy New Year. I have bid farewell to last year. May whatever I did amiss be forgotten and forgiven.

March 4, 1841. Thursday. A cold day, a day of roaring of cannon, of ringing of bells, of playing of fife and beating of drums. This day William Henry Harrison becomes the chief magistrate of the nation.

April 7, 1841. Wednesday. This moment we have heard that General Harrison is dead. A great calamity. At noon the bells began to toll and the minute guns to fire, and continued till one.

April 10, 1841. Saturday. Tyler has assumed the presidential chair. We hear he intends to follow Harrison’s plans. If he does, all will be well.

April 21, 1841. Wednesday. A violent rain storm. The principal business going on through the country is honoring the memory of General Harrison by parades, sermons, and orations. All political parties unite in commemorating his death. No man has been more popular since the days of Washington, and perhaps no man more deserving. He has gone to his God and his widow is desolate.

Dec. 31, 1841. Friday. Warm and pleasant. A meeting of the church in conference. Seven male members present and eleven females. All the male members prayed. The question was asked again and again, what can be done to promote a revival of religion. At length I concluded to reply, and I remarked, that if every member would make it a matter of conscience to attend to all the requirements to which he had obligated himself, we might hope to have a revival. Therefore the first step was to make confession of our sins and to love and forgive one another.

Jan. 1, 1842. Saturday. Happy New Year to my wife and children, and all connected with the family. Happy New Year to Westbrook, to the ministers, churches, to the county, state, and all the habitable world.

People are moving about, as it were, on the wings of the wind. Railroads and steamboats are multiplying. Candles are made in New Bedford in the morning, and at evening these same candles light np the stores and parlors in the city of Albany, over two hundred miles distant.

Dec. 31, 1842. Saturday. To-day closes another great portion of time. What changes do we find as to circumstances and situations of multitudes. Thousands of thousands have passed through the bankrupt mill without paying any toll. Does this free them from moral obligation to pay their honest debts ? By no means. They will always be bound to do this till it is done. This has been a year of much enterprise. A railroad from Portland to Boston has been completed, also one from Boston to Albany, also the great work of bringing water into the city of New York. A great change this year among the ministers. Formerly ministers could remain with their congregation forty, fifty, and sixty years, and do an immense amount of good. Now their race is soon run. One happy event must not be left unrecorded: the North-Eastern Boundary, so long a bone of contention between us and Great Britain, is settled to the satisfaction of both parties concerned. This was accomplished by Daniel Webster on the part of America, and by Lord Ashburton on the part of England.

Jan. 1, 1843. Sabbath. A happy New Year to all who may cast a glance upon this page. What time this world is to be burned by fire we do not certainly know. We are told that 1843 will wind up its concerns. Many are spending their whole time in what they call a preparation to meet the Saviour, expecting to see him descend from Heaven in a cloud, with the voice of an Archangel and with the trump of God.

Dec. 31, 1843. Sabbath. It is six o’clock in the evening. Have just returned from the poorhouse, where I preached. Spoke of the shortness of human life; a kind of funeral discourse, a corpse being present, a woman who died suddenly, Mrs. Blake, aged sixty-six. It was a solemn occasion.

Jan. 1, 1844. Monday. A happy New Year to everybody.

Oct. 11, 1844. Friday. A fine day. The political excitement increases, all eyes and ears are open. What news! Who do you think will be President. Clay, I hope; and he will be, if the Whigs do their duty. Millerism grows hotter and hotter. Yesterday was the time appointed for the advent and ascension, but it did not take place. It was put off till the 22d, which I understand is to be the day of all days, when the sea is to give up the dead which is in it, and death and hell are to give up the dead which are in them, and those who are alive, to be caught up to meet the Lord in the air.

Oct. 22, 1844. Tuesday. Went into the city to see how the Millerites were acting. It was said there were a number of them together looking for some sign of the coming of the Son of man. Made calls and left for home about eight. As I walked moderately along, heard no cry, “behold the bridegroom, go ye out to meet him.” Everything was quiet, calm, and still. The queen of the night appeared, grand, noble, majestic, and smiled upon me.

Nov. 4, 1844. Monday. The election swallows up everything. A discouraging time for ministers. How hard to preach when their hearers are all inquiring, who has carried the day, Polk, or Clay ? Sad state of things.

Nov. 14, 1844. Thursday. The political strife is over. I don’t expect this election of Polk is going to alter the order of nature. The grass will still grow, the sun rise and set as usual. All is for the best.

Dec. 31, 1844. Tuesday. The year has been one of great excitement politically. Let it be remembered that Polk, the President elect, was not chosen by the American people, but by foreign paupers and criminals, sent to this country, instead of to Botany Bay, and made voters for the purpose of voting for Polk. O tempora, O mores!

Jan. 1, 1845. Wednesday. Happy New Year, wife, happy New Year, children, happy New Year, Westbrook; and may it be a year of good tidings to all the people of the land.

March 4, 1845. Tuesday. The sun rose pleasantly. James K. Polk became President of the United States. How he will act is among future contingencies. The Lord reigns.

March 27, 1845, Thursday. I am pleased because it is a pleasant day. The devil is pleased because things are moving on agreeable to his wishes. He is pleased because James K. Polk has become President of the United States. He is pleased to see the country so much divided into parties, and especially is he pleased to see the doctrine, which he preached in the Garden of Eden, flourish. He is pleased to see the multiplicity of female fairs to raise money to propagate the gospel, and dispose of their articles, in many cases, for a hundred per cent more than they are worth.

Dec. 31, 1845. [Volumes missing.]

Jan. 1, 1846. [Volumes missing.]

Dec. 31, 1846. [Volumes missing.]

Jan. 1, 1847. Friday. Happy New Year to the ends of the earth!

Dec. 8,1847. Wednesday. A summerlike day. Have you seen the President’s message ? No, we expect it in the next mail. Well, it will be the same old story about the Mexican war. He will tell of the glorious victories, of the boldness and perseverance of our officers. He will not tell how many widows and orphans have been made, how many brave men murdered.

Dec. 14, 1847. Tuesday. I have read the message. I am heartily sick of it. It is full of justification and war spirit.

Dec. 20,1847. Monday. All eyes seem fixed on Congress, all ears listening to hear what is going to be done to put an end to this infernal war.

Dec. 31, 1847. Friday. A year of shedding of human blood. The Mexican war has been an awful calamity both to the Mexicans and to the Americans. It is a matter of great rejoicing with half the people of the United States, when they hear of the murder of two or three thousand Mexicans, but how sad, how distressing the murder of an individual.

Jan. 1, 1848. Saturday. Congratulations are spreading. “ I wish you a happy New Year!” Congress, the collective wisdom of the nation, or rather the collective rogues of the nation, are now in session. They have an awful responsibility. They have it in their power to put an end to this shedding of human blood. They are becoming divided. There is now some hope, agreeable to the proverb: “When rogues are divided, honest men may obtain their rights.”

Oct. 12, 1848. Thursday. Nothing now conversed upon but “Who do you think will be the next President ?” “Think Taylor wall carry the day?” “No, I think it will be Cass.” “But,” says another, “I should rather have Van Buren.” “O no,” says another, “he is a turncoat. I disliked him when he was President, and notwithstanding he professes to have altered his mind, I won’t trust him, he changed for the sake of promotion.”

Nov. 7, 1848. Tuesday. Pleasant. The electors for the next President are chosen to - day throughout the United States. I don’t like the candidates well enough to vote for either one of them.

Nov. 9, 1848. Thursday. A little spitting of snow last night. My man gone to the city to hunt up a girl. Returned with one by the name of Augusta Field. Not likely she will stay long. It will be too quiet for her after the bustle of the city. Taylor, the Whig candidate, is elected.

Nov. 13, 1848. Monday. A pleasant day, but the ground frozen hard. The Bostonians are giving information of the fact of Zachariah Taylor’s election so far as three thousand guns will convey the sound, one thousand to be fired on Copp’s Hill, one thousand on Dorchester Heights, and one thousand on Boston Common. The Bostonians think it glory enough that “Rough and Ready” is elected President of the American people. I think it is a bad policy and a capital mistake thus to rejoice over opponents. The noise of the cannon may conquer, but not convince.

Dec. 11, 1848. Monday. The President’s message has arrived, and it is a monster. He is exceedingly loth to give up the ship, but go he must.

Dec. 31, 1848. Sabbath, and the sun appearing in his greatest splendor. During the year provisions have been scarce and high, and the fruits of the earth not very abundant. A treaty was signed and ratified between the Mexicans and Americans. The St. Lawrence and Atlantic railroad put into operation. I have been wonderfully blessed with good health. Farewell 1848.

Jan. 1, 1849. Monday. Very still and calm. May I spend this year as if it were my last. May thy will be done with me and by me as the angels do thy will in Heaven, and thine be the glory forever. Amen.

March 5, 1849. Monday. An interesting day, the inauguration of Zachariah Taylor.

March 12, 1849. Monday. Snow melting fast. Let it be remembered that this is my birthday. I was born in 1772, and am as well as I ever was, and have this day rode horseback with as much ease and comfort as I ever did.

Dec. 31, 1849. Monday. Farewell, farewell forever to 1849.

Jan. 1, 1850. Tuesday. A happy New Year to the whole world in general, and America in particular. Also to the present administration now assembled in Congress, who commenced their session on the first Monday of last December and have done nothing for the good of their country. May the members of that assembly come to their senses and act like men and Christians, then it will be a happy New Year to them, and they will be likely to have some agreeable reflections at the close of the same.

July 9, 1850. Tuesday. A fine day. I record the melancholy death of the President of the United States, General Taylor. God’s ways are not our ways. He sees the end from the beginning. He asks no one’s advice and gives no one his reasons. When he commissions the messenger Death to go forth and take a human being, it is done, whether a babe or a president.

July 12, 1850. Friday. Fine day for making hay. The President has already a successor equal to filling the vacancy, Mr. Fillmore, the Vice President.

July 13,1850. Saturday. Another fine day, a great funeral day. In our seaports colors are displayed upon the masts. Bells are tolling, minute guns firing, processions forming, not because the dead man was the best man in the world, or the greatest, but because he was President of the nation, and the nation respected him living and honors him dead.

Dec. 31, 1850. [Volumes missing.]

Jan. 1, 1851. [Volumes missing.]

Dec. 31, 1851. [Volumes missing.]

Jan. 1, 1852. A happy New Year to the great family of man. I am now in my eightieth year. It is more than probable that it will be my last. How old time wears away, the older he grows, the sprigger he seems to be. He appears to dispatch the business of the year with more dispatch than formerly, but it can’t be so, the difference is in me. The nigher I approach my journey’s end, the shorter the days. When I have been on a long journey and am returning home, I anticipate much enjoyment. Now as I draw near my eternal home, are my anticipations pleasing ? Do I rejoice that I am so near the end ?

Dec. 31,1852. Friday. Farewell 1852. Thou hast prospered the nation, but while I record her prosperity, I must not forget to mention the dark cloud and sable mourning which have shrouded her. Three of her greatest statesmen have departed this life, in course of the year, Calhoun of South Carolina, Clay of Tennessee, and Daniel Webster of Massachusetts.

Jan. 1, 1853. Saturday. “A happy New Year, Pa, a happy New Year, Ma,” are heard in the household. Congratulations are echoed and reëchoed. All seem to enjoy the harmonious sound.

Dec. 31, 1853. Saturday. It came to pass on the 4th of March of this year Franklin Pierce was declared President of the United States. In September there was much excitement in the state of Maine concerning the election for state officers, upon which the establishment of the Maine Liquor Law in a great measure depended. The rum sellers, the rum drinkers, and all those favoring the rum traffic were at the polls in time. A dollar was offered for a vote against the Maine Liquor Law. How many dollars were expended in this way I say not. The no rum ticket prevailed. Laus Deo.

Jan.1, 1854. Sabbath Day. Tedious snow storm. I had been in the habit heretofore of writing down many congratulations, of expressing many good hopes, making promises, and adopting resolutions. I have never come up to my promises, nor have I fulfilled my resolutions. God give me grace to improve this last span.

Dec. 31, 1854. Sabbath. Quite cold. The Maine Liquor Law is becoming more popular. The masses are beginning to see what havoc and destruction rum dealers have done in days gone by. What an awful account must those give who have been active agents in producing so much distress in the land.

Jan. 1, 1855. Monday. The sound of the human voice this morning is, I wish you a happy New Year. I have commenced reading Dr. Channing. He is a most excellent writer, and an excellent man. He is not what some call Orthodox, because he cannot see how there can be three distinct persons, all separate from each other, and yet merged in one being. He believes in the supreme God. He believes in a Son, who made atonement for sin. He believes in the gracious presence of the Holy Ghost. All Orthodox prejudice aside, he is one of the most spiritual religious writers I have ever read.

Dec. 31, 1855. Monday. A pleasant morning. A general dissatisfaction has been created in the minds of the people by the stand the President seems to have taken respecting the slavery question. The South are determined that the Nortli shall submit to their dictation, but the North say “no.” It has been a year of political excitement, a year of prosperity, but alas, God and religion have been kept in the background. The ministers of the gospel have less zeal and animation. In many of the churches the people no longer rise to unite with the minister in prayer.

Jan.1, 1856. Tuesday. A fine day. I wish all who may read these pages a happy New Year, whether now or a hundred years hence. Let it be recorded and remembered that Congress have been in session four weeks to-day, and not organized to do business, owing to officers and office-seekers. A more corrupt administration cannot be found.

Dec. 31, 1856. Wednesday. The year is closed. It remains that I repent of misspent time and redeem it, before my feet stumble upon the dark mountains of death.

The most part of the year has been of confusion, and discord, lying, deception, and wickedness. Great confusion in Congress. Senator Sumner nearly killed by a member of the House named Brooks. Great trouble among the negroes and in Kansas.

Jan. 1, 1857. Thursday. A pleasant day. Congratulations are sounding from every mouth, from the gray head to the lisping babe. A new administration will come into power on the fourth day of next March. May the fear of the Lord preside over those in authority.

March 4, 1857. Wednesday. A day long to be remembered for good or evil. James Buchanan is inaugurated President of the United States, and Franklin Pierce is divested of his authority.

Dec. 31, 1857. Thursday. A year of bloodshed and murder. Kansas one continued place of disturbance. It appears that the President and the present administration love to have it so.

Jan. 1, 1858. Friday. “A happy New Year” are words heard to-day from the rising to the setting of the sun. The first sleighing of the winter. Three p. m. walked up to the meeting-house to attend a lecture preparatory to communion. Door not opened. No fire. Mr. Wheelright, the minister,1 appeared. We tried to make a fire, but did not succeed. What is best to be done ? These women will take cold. I said, “talk to us five minutes, it will be more than we can remember, and more than we shall be likely to practice.” We talked a short time and then separated.

March 12, 1858. Friday. Let it be remembered that eighty-six years ago the writer of this page was introduced into this world a helpless little fellow, and he has lived to this day. I have a desire to live so long as I am free from aches and pains, and can enjoy society, and wish to do good, and do it. I have a desire to live till I am called and then to be ready to answer, “Lord, here I am.”

Dec. 31, 1858. Friday. A year of great attention to religion, and of not much business. God seems to have said, “you have leisure now, attend to me!”

Jan. 1, 1859. Saturday. Warm. A happy New Year is announced the length and breadth of the land. Let us leave what is passed and attend to the future, and notice the dealings of Providence as they occur.

Nov. 30, 1859. Wednesday. Froze hard last night. The general conversation is the outbreak at Harper’s Ferry, and the execution of John Brown, to take place day after to-morrow.

Dec. 2, 1859. Friday. This day will be noted throughout the world. The name of John Brown will be spoken of with respect, so long as George Washington’s name is spoken of with respect. Christ said, do as you would be done by in an exchange of circumstances. Brown’s blood will not be shed in vain.

Dec. 3, 1859. Saturday. All anxiety to hear from Virginia to know how Mr. Brown appeared on the gallows. How was he as to stability and courage ? Did 1 This was Mr. Bradley’s successor in the active pastorate.

he act the hero? Time will not efface from memory the cruel transaction of the second day of December, 1859, when John Brown was murdered in cool blood for what he thought to be his duty.

Dec. 31,1859. Saturday. Various have been the scenes of this year. One excitement was the expectation of a visit from the Great Eastern. It is now expected that the breath of life will be put into her next June, and she will be able to pay us a visit according to promise. Another excitement I shall mention was that at Harper’s Ferry, when twenty men, under the direction of one John Brown, undertook to invade the Virginian state, and free the negroes. Brown and four others were taken prisoners, found guilty of murder and high treason, and sentenced to be hung, and were hung. Many sermons have been preached on this subject.

Jan.1, 1860. The Lord’s Day. Preached at the poorhouse. My theme was “A happy New Year.” God had suffered them to commence a new year, and it was very desirable that they should be happy, and they had been told how: Fear God and keep his commandments, hope in Christ, and let the spirit of truth lead you in the way of fife everlasting.

Dec. 31, 1860. Monday. Some snow last night. A recapitulation of the year would be more than I could undertake. The two political parties have acted as though Pandemonium had opened her doors and disgorged all her infernal inmates. The state of North Carolina has declared itself out of the Union. Congress is in session, but divided, as much as was the case at the building of Babel. They don’t understand each other. The President is too fearful, too diffident, to take an independent ground and use all the power he possesses.

Jan. 1, 1861. Tuesday. Weather moderate. The atmosphere is verberating and reverberating with congratulations, but I fear there will be more tears than laughter for those who live through the year.

Feb. 19, 1861. Tuesday. A delightful day. The most important matter to be collected from the newspapers is the journey of Mr. Lincoln, the President elect, from his home on his way to Washington, and his speeches at the different stopping places. Great enthusiasm of the people. It was hurrah, hurrah, hurrah. Every one is believing and feeling that should he take command of the ship of state a favorable change would soon be brought about.

Feb. 20,1861. Wednesday. We expect no important news until after the Fourth of March. The story is in circulation that the seceders will have a powerful force in Washington, equal to the taking of the capital.

Feb. 21, 1861. Thursday. Warm and pleasant. The seceders are not quite so enthusiastic. They dread the Lincoln administration. They know he is a man of sound common sense and some uncommon sense.

Feb. 26, 1861. Tuesday. Pleasant. The great anxious day is near at hand, when the new President will take the chair of state, if he is not murdered before that day. We fear, we tremble.

March 2,1861. Saturday. Cloudy and damp. This night the present Congress draw their last breath. Hope for the best and pray for the best.

March 4. 1861. Monday. Sloppy and bad getting about. This 4th of March will be remembered as long as time shall last. Abraham Lincoln will be inaugurated to-day. He will need much grace, much wisdom, much go-forward principle and discernment, enough to know when to say yes, and when to say no. May he be a blessing to his country and have the approbation of Heaven.

March 5, 1861. Tuesday. Calm and pleasant. Walked to the city. The first inquiry was, “Have you read the President’s message ?” “No, I have not seen it yet; have you?” “Yes.” “How do you like it?” “Very much, no one can find any fault with it.”

March 6, 1861. Wednesday. Very cold. I have read the President’s message. It is mild, quiet, conciliating. No ill temper, no improper feeling. The laws must be executed. If not obeyed willingly, he must resort to force. Stolen property must be restored, duties collected, traitors called to account. To these sentiments I say Amen.

March 12,1861. Tuesday. Cold night and day. It is my birthday. The gateway is clear and open for me to proceed on my ninetieth year. I am well, strong, and hearty, a miracle of mercy.