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Before we left San Francisco, we sung at the reception to Dr. Kalloch in celebration of his recovery from his wounds caused by his shooting by DeYoung. The reception was in the Metropolitan Temple, and was an enthusiastic affair. The shooting had occurred during our trip to Portland. Kalloch, in his campaign circulars when a candidate for mayor, to which office he was elected, had uttered disparaging words concerning the DeYoungs. One day he was sitting in his study in the church when DeYoung drove up in a coupé. He sent a boy to the study door to tell the doctor that a lady parishioner desired to see him at her carriage. Dr. Kalloch, with characteristic eagerness and politeness,

"Before we left San Francisco, we sung at the reception":   The fact that the Rev. I. S. Kalloch's would-be assassin was the founder and principal proprietor of the San Francisco Chronicle in only one of the very strange aspects of his life story. Kalloch's biography, going back at least as far as his days as a divinity student, is covered by the expression, the truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. Let's just say that he had a habit of getting run out of town after alleged womanizing  -  not exactly an ideal item for a pastor's resume. Through an odd coincidence, Rev. Kalloch's old church, Boston's Tremont Temple where the Hutchinsons sang many times, was destroyed by fire just days before the assassination attempt.

"The shooting had occurred during our trip to Portland":   Anglice, "We have an alibi all lined up."

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hastened to the carriage door, bareheaded. DeYoung immediately fired at him, and he fell, supposably mortally wounded. It may well be supposed that the reception at the time of his recovery was an enthusiastic affair. I prepared a special song for the occasion. I also sung, "Under the Ice," words by my friend Clark:

This was our last interview with Kalloch. It was after our return East that his son, assistant pastor of

"I also sung Under the Ice, words by my friend Clark":   It seems a reasonable guess that John's friend Clark was James G. Clark, but it would be great to be sure. If you know the name of the lyricist and/or the composer of the music and you're willing to share the information, please write us by way of the contact link near the bottom of the page.

"And roses bloom on the bank of spring":   Should this, instead, read, "And roses bloom on the bank in spring"?

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the Temple, went to DeYoung's office and shot him dead.

On Monday, October 27th, we gave our farewell concert in Rev. Dr. A. L. Stone's Congregational Church, in San Francisco, shaking hands at the close with many friends we had made. The next night we gave our farewell in Sacramento. Thence we went to Ogden, giving two concerts, and on to Salt Lake City where again we met Rev. H. D. Fisher, formerly of Lawrence, Kan. We sung in his church on Sunday night. We made a number of stops for return concerts at Chayenne, Omaha, Council Bluffs, and elsewhere, and arrived at Des Moines November 15th. Here we left Henry, Lillie and Jack. Fanny and I went on to Toledo, where we had a royal welcome from Viola, Judson, and the rest. Immediately on arrival, I took cold, and with fatigue and all the rest, nearly came down with a fever.

We spent Thanksgiving Day at Toledo, and then with Juddie, proceeded East as far as Shortsville, N.Y., where I left both him and his mother with our friends, W. L. Brown and his wife, and kept on to Lynn alone. High Rock was still there, but there was plenty of work for me to do after an absence of nearly eighteen months.

I found a good deal to worry me at High Rock. In the first place, Mr. Gay, who had been making a resurvey of Asa's portion of the property, the easterly half, had discovered that Alonzo Lewis when he originally made the plans for the division, for some reason left a strip of several feet, running through the middle, which he allowed to neither brother. That meant trouble in adjustment. Then I found the periodical talk concerning the use of the summit of the rock for a park was going on, and moreover, the city government

"In the first place, Mr. Gay, who had been making a resurvey":   It would be worth making a mental note of this resurvey of Asa B. Hutchinson's High Rock property.

1879 odds and ends:   The year 1879 featured many sad events including numerous notable deaths. The Rev. William Patton, Ludlow Patton's father, died that year. The absence of any mention of the death of William Lloyd Garrison may be added to the considerable list of John's puzzling omissions.  | |  1879 was a year of transition for the family that Judson J. Hutchinson left behind. Dr. Thomas Benton Dearborn, husband of Judson's daughter Kate, died that year. Ramsdell's history of Milford, New Hampshire, says of Dr. Dearborn, "Those who knew him best, knew that in all the relations of life he was honorable, upright, and conscientious. His funeral was the largest ever held in Milford, over one thousand paying their last tribute of respect. Many who had been his patients came miles to look upon the face of the deceased. The gathering at the cemetery exceeded that of Decoration Day [Memorial Day]." [George A. Ramsdell, The History of Milford, Family Registers by William P. Colburn (Concord, N.H.: Rumford Press, 1901), 469.]  1879 also marked the birth of the Dearborns' son, Edmund Gerrish Dearborn. All of the present-day family of Judson and Jerusha Hutchinson are descended through Edmund G. Dearborn.  | |  Other branches of the Hutchinson family  that were blessed by 1879 births include those of Asa, John, Joshua, and Zephaniah.

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had taken a hand in the matter. So I busied myself in finding some way of bringing about the purchase without sacrificing our rights or the comfort of our tenants, a difficult task.

[1880]

Fanny came home during December, and was ready to start with me on a return trip West, January 1, 1880. A day in New York City, another in Shortsville, and a few hours in Toledo, were all the stops we allowed ourselves until we reached Des Moines, January 8th. During our absence Henry had formed a quartet, and had been giving concerts in and about the city. He also appeared, as did Lillie, as a soloist in "Ruth the Moabitess," a cantata. On the next night we gave a concert  -  our first in eight weeks  -  in Indianola. The next few weeks we devoted to concerts in Iowa and Illinois. On the 26th we were in Red Oak, Ia., and visited Mrs. Rose Hasty, a sister of "Cousin Maud" Porter. While at Missouri Valley Junction, on the 30th, I had a conference with a man named Chase, and laid plans that were never realized for the founding of a county seat in Nebraska.

On February 5th we rode fifty miles across country in a sleigh, and were almost frozen to death. On the 11th, at Le Mars, we met the notable Robert Morris, Masonic lecturer. He told us that George Baker had died from apoplexy. Baker was the basso profundo of the well-known family of musicians. I remember he came to Chicago at one time and wanted to go singing with me. I took him out to Kankakee, and let him sing one piece. His voice did not harmonize with mine, and we gave it up. It seemed that he had finished a rehearsal with his company at the opera house in a town where they were to exhibit. The company returned to the hotel for dinner. He remained. His chair was

"He told us that George Baker had died from apoplexy":   If you know anything about George Baker and his family and you would be willing to share the information, please use the contact link toward the bottom of the page to e-mail us.

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turned up at the table. After a while his prolonged absence was noticed, the party returned to the hall, found it locked, crawled through the transom over the door, and discovered him dead.

On March 5th, in Independence, Ia., we met Jesse Harriman, an old anti-slavery friend, then seventy-five years of age. I first knew him in Danvers, thirty-seven years before. On March 8th we received word that Viola and all her family were to start immediately for New Mexico. The next night Asa met me, at Marion, and we talked until two o'clock in the morning on High Rock matters. On the 16th, in Iowa City, I met Robert Hutchinson. In my boyhood, he sung with me in the choir at Milford. He pre-empted Iowa City, which was the capital for a while. Here I also met Samuel Everett, who preached in my youth in the Baptist church in Milford. He baptized me at the age of ten, after a notable revival in 1831. We had a familiar talk on theological matters. In the experience of years, he said he had made up his mind that character was everything. He believed God was a benevolent, reasonable being, and that in his economy, everybody worth saving would be saved. All the rest he thought would be annihilated, burned up as chaff, but not be the subjects of an unforgiving wrath, to suffer eternal torture. It was a sweet interview, in which we talked over old days in Milford, and it was our last. He had given up preaching, but was a strong believer in liberty, brotherly love and patriotism.

On the 27th we were in Elmwood, Ill., with our good friends, Edwin R. Brown and family. On the next night we gave a concert at the house of Mr. Brown. Three generations of the family were represented by father, eighty-two, son, fifty-six, and grandson, twenty-nine

"He baptized me at the age of ten":   This 1831 revival I take to be a part of the second phase of the Second Great Awakening; and I believe that, at the very least, it was heavily influenced by the campaigns of Charles Grandison Finney. If you know of anyone who is researching the Second Great Awakening as it pertains to the northeastern United States in the early 1830s, please use the contact link near the bottom of the page to e-mail us.

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years old. On April 12th we made another visit with our friends President John Blanchard and Rufus Blanchard at Wheaton. At West Liberty, on the 19th I had a very pleasant visit with the poet, Don Piatt.

During all this time I was very much worried concerning home affairs. Asa, when he left me in Iowa, had gone immediately to Lynn, and I had promised to follow him in April. I arrived on the 22d. Meanwhile, he had ordered a surveyor to make a plat of his half of the property, and had cut it up into house-lots and offered it for sale. This was not at all in accordance with my ideas, for it spoiled the apple orchard which Jesse set out, besides disfiguring the entire estate, and spoiling the original design, which had thus far been treated as a whole. I considered the situation with all the judgment I possessed, and finally concluded to buy the lots when the sale occurred. The Stone Cottage, and the pinnacle of High Rock, with contiguous land were owned by us in common. He insisted, against my desire, in selling the cottage. After much reflection, I concluded to sign a bond with him to sell High Rock Cottage, and started for Boston to do so. At the railway station I met Wm. G. S. Keene, a prominent citizen of Lynn, with a reputation for public spirit. He said, "John, can't you sell us an approach to High Rock from Essex Street, thirty feet wide? I can get you $10,000 within a short time."  "You would like the rock too?" I ventured.  "Yes," said he. I told him the errand I was on.  "You buy Asa out," was his advice, and he expatiated still further on the opportunity presented, his idea being to raise the money by thousand-dollar subscriptions from prominent men, and present the property to the city. I telegraphed the fact of a possible customer to Asa. He answered that he had

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rather sell the whole thing out in house-lots. Then Keene again suggested that I buy him out. I knew that Asa had offered his share in the property not long before for $11,000; he offered it to me in Iowa for $17,000. He now demanded $20,000. With the prospect of getting $10,000 back through Keene, I thought it wise to close the bargain, and did so. After making the purchase, I went back to Keene.  "You'll want the Rock, won't you?" I inquired.  "Oh, yes!" was his answer. I told him I would put the price of the Rock and approaches at $15,000. I would contribute $1,000 toward the project myself, Henry would give $1,000 more, I would give $1,000 for improvements and $1,000 for streets, so that all he would have to raise would be $11,000. To this he agreed. He had a plan of the park drawn, and secured a large picture of the Rock, which he framed and hung up in his office. Meanwhile, negotiations were pending for the purchase of the portion of the Rock claimed by James N. Buffum. These went so far that the deed was drawn and awaited in a lawyer's office the signature of the supposed owner. He went in and borrowed it, took it home, and destroyed it. Had he carried out his part of the bargain, Keene could have raised the money, and the city would have had a fine park. The only result of the agitation was, however, to make me the owner of my brother's half. Half the Stone Cottage, Bird's Nest Cottage and the land, cost me $20,000 cash. The same property cost him in 1855 $3,350. The failure of the park purchase made it necessary to sacrifice some valuable railroad and other stocks, and of course my taxes immediately doubled. It was several years before houses enough were erected upon it to make it profitable; but I saved the apple orchard, which is still as Jesse left it, forming a semi-park, around

"The same property cost him in 1855 $3,350":   John and Asa Hutchinson purchased their brother Jesse's estate by way of a September 1853 auction. This 1855 date is a mystery.

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which are several dwellings, including my own. With the exception of a small strip, no land has been sold from the estate. There are now twelve dwellings upon it, several of them in flats; so that some forty families enjoy the sightliness and airiness of a home on High Rock. Meanwhile, the best lots are still reserved, forming lawns, outlooks and similar open spaces.

Does my reader believe in ghosts?  When I came home from the West, I preceded my family a few days. Arriving in Lynn, I went to the home of my friend David J. Lord, to get a small trunk of securities. Safe deposit vaults were not as common then as now; and Lord, then a bank cashier  -  he is now president of one of Boston's biggest banks  -  had kept my trunk for a year and a half under his bed. With the trunk, I went to Daisy Cottage. It was cold and dreary, after having been unoccupied so long. It was night, and thinking it would be chilly in my chamber, I made a fire in the kitchen, intending to camp on the lounge there until morning. Then I drew my chair up to the kitchen table, and opened my trunk, to look over my papers. Time passed on; the hour grew late, and the chills, despite the fire, crept over me. Suddenly I heard a sound. I glanced nervously at the forty thousand dollars' worth of securities spread out on the table, thought of burglars, and listened. A dead silence prevailed. Resuming my work, I soon heard it again. Thoroughly aroused and suspicious, I resolved that if I heard that sound a third time I would immediately investigate it, and began to pack up my papers. Again it came. I arose, and following the direction from which it seemed to proceed, went to a closet under the back-stairs. Opening the door, I saw a clothes-basket, and spread over it, the old calico apron of Hannah, the

"It was cold and dreary, after having been unoccupied so long":   One might wonder what became of the tenant John had lined up for Daisy Cottage for the duration of the West Coast tour.

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cook, just as she left it many months before. As I gazed critically at it, it rose in the air several inches.  "Rats!" thought I, and seizing a broom that stood by, I jammed it into the basket with sufficient force to take the ambition out of any venturesome rodent who might have concealed himself in the receptacle. After a moment or two I raised the broom carefully. The apron followed.  Horrors!  Just as I was about to cry "Murder!" I saw a string. The key to the situation at once flashed across my mind. I had gone to the closet earlier in the evening, and put on an old pair of slippers. This string was somehow attached to a slipper. The other end of it was wound on a bobbin, and the bobbin was in the clothes-basket. As I sat at the table, I moved my foot, and the result was a noise in the basket. The string became entangled in the table leg, and in consequence caused the violent agitation in the basket when I walked to the closet. I rested easy for the remainder of the night after that. This illustrates the ancient axiom, "Prove all things."

We gave a few concerts after our return from the West, and then settled down for the summer. On the 29th of July the Hawkes family held a reunion on a picturesque farm in North Saugus. Some two centuries ago, a member of the tribe of Hutchinson was married in this country and moved with her husband to England. Her husband died, and she returned. In a few years Adam Hawkes, a thrifty and land-loving farmer, wooed and won her for the second time. They went to live upon her farm in Lynn, a section now a part of Saugus. From this marriage sprung the Hawkes family. While I was in California a lady who is a descendant of this worthy couple told me the story while we were on a visit to her ranch. She also

"Some two centuries ago, a member of the tribe of Hutchinson":   This part of the story doesn't seem to check out. This Hawkes family matriarch, as far as I can tell, married into the Hutchinson family; and I don't see any way that John could be descended from her. If you get John's story to check out as it's written, please e-mail us by way of the contact link near the bottom of the page.

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said there was to be a gathering of the family at the old farm the next year, and invited me to come. During the summer we met her again in Lynn, and she once more invited us, claiming me as a relative. So on the day appointed I said to Lillie, "Let's go up."  We went by train to Saugus, and thence by barge to the farm. They had just closed a morning meeting, at which Hon. Nathan Mortimer Hawkes of Lynn, had presided. It had been very interesting. Most of the people  -  there were one hundred present  -  were partaking of the collation. We entered a tent, which stood on the site of the home of the aged progenitors of the gathering, and saw an organ. We stepped up to it, I touched the keys, and we sung. Some member of the committee invited us to the collation. Word was soon noised about, "The Hutchinsons are here."  "What are they here for?"  "Who invited them?" and similar questions were asked. Even the chairman did not know. Our friend from California came to the rescue at this point. She told the story, and proved that I was a descendant of the same ancestry as themselves. Then we had an ovation. We sung to them, and had a pleasant day adding to our list of acquaintances, one of whom was Colonel B. F. Hawkes of Washington, with whom I have been on intimate terms ever since.

At about this time we conceived the plan of putting a weather signal on High Rock. Henry was the first to think of it, and I at once went to work to get it put up.  Hon. N. M. Hawkes, referred to above, Captain John G. B. Adams, then postmaster of Lynn, Hon. John B. Alley and others interested themselves in the project. I also wrote to my friend, General Sherman, who as the head of the army, might well be supposed

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to have influence with its signal-service department. Finally Captain Adams notified me that the material had arrived, in his care. Then a funny thing happened. Henry, of course, hoped to be made signal-officer, more for the name than for the salary. But Captain Earp, one of our neighbors, thought as a veteran of the war he should be preferred before a youth whose only service was singing in the camp. He set up so strong a claim for the place that he carried everything before him. When he learned that the salary was twenty-five cents a day his ardor suddenly cooled, and Henry was appointed. Captain Earp would have to make quite a trip from his house to the top of the rock. Henry worked the halyards from the window of the Stone Cottage. The signals were interesting to Lynn people, but the hope that they would be of use to mariners was not well-founded. The rock was too far removed from the track of vessels to be seen in thick weather. Henry served two years, setting the signals night and morning, and telephoning the weather to the Lynn papers daily, to Boston and elsewhere. I tried to get the appropriation increased, but was unsuccessful. The station was finally given up. But meanwhile, the Government placed a sightly flag-pole on the rock, which long remained  -  though another has been lately substituted  -  and put up the convenient flight of steps and gallery, which scale the face of the rock. These were built by Henry, as engineer and mechanic.

In July I visited Milford, in company with Sister Abby. One day, together with Abby and Rhoda, Ludlow, Ettie and Marion, Rhoda's daughter and granddaughter, I visited New Boston. On other days I visited Joshua and David, and Kate Dearborn, Judson's

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daughter. On the 26th of August there was a picnic at "Purgatory," in Mont Vernon, N.H. Hutchinson's Grove, at this place, has for years been the scene of an annual picnic, where the people of the surrounding country have a good time. It is owned by H. Appleton Hutchinson, a son of Noah, and as many of the family as can get there usually go. I went on this occasion. After spending the night at Brother Noah's old home, I drove down to Milford the next morning. As I passed David's, I could not help noting the contrast between his thrifty fields, and the dilapidated hop houses standing near the road. Driving up into the yard, I met him, and dismounting and shaking hands, I said: "David, I've come to make you a present."  His face lighted up with a smile of gratification. Solemnly placing my fingers in my pocket, I drew forth a match.  "Here is the testimonial," said I, "with it you will do well to set fire to those old buildings down by the highway."  "Thank you," he remarked, grimly, making no other comment. In a few minutes I was down in the field, mowing, as was my habit when visiting my farmer brothers.

On October 21st the famous McGibeney Family of performers and vocalists came to High Rock. Before McGibeney married he attended my concerts in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. After that he moved to Minneapolis. He was a man of culture, and fine address. He resided in Minneapolis some five years. Subsequently he went to Winona, and became professor of music in the institution there. All the while he was giving training to his increasing family of children, nearly as large as the Tribe of Jesse. Their success in concert is well known. He now has a home in western Massachusetts. On the day mentioned, I brought out a

1880 odds and ends:   Asa B. Hutchinson announced by way of Lynn, Massachusetts, newspapers that he would be in the city in April 1880 to sell his High Rock property in thirteen lots, plus his share of the summit as well as his share of the two houses which were built by Jesse Hutchinson, Jr.  Asa was raising money to invest in Colorado mining interests and in Leadville real estate. The decision by John W. Hutchinson to purchase all of Asa's High Rock real estate and to develop big portions of it as rental property tied John to Lynn like never before. The Tribe of John, as a concert company, had been doing booming business. So it was a huge change for John to put his singing group on a much shorter tether while he concentrated on the building of rental houses and one considerably larger tenement building. This was a huge change, more broadly, for the Hutchinson family. It can be very hard to understand the Hutchinsons' experiments in the mining industry. No commonly-known evidence suggests that either Asa or Joanna Hutchinson had any knowledge or experience at all in the field of mining, yet both seemed to be eager to invest Asa's money in these glittering enterprises.  Lewis A. Campbell was an officer in a mining company headed by his Toledo, Ohio, family physician. It is hard to imagine that the doctor had much if any background in mining, and Campbell certainly didn't. Like Campbell's other business attempts, this one was not a success. These ventures in Colorado and New Mexico seem to have been examples of the peculiar form of gambling that was then called mining fever.  Abby Hutchinson Anderson's husband Samuel G. Anderson, by contrast, seemed to follow various gold and silver rushes for the pure adventure of it; and there is some small reason to think that John's grandson, Jack Hutchinson, may have tried doing the same.  The mining endeavors of Ludlow Patton appear to have been no riskier than any of his other business investments. A Ludlow Patton Colorado mine may still be partly in the hands of the Hutchinson family.  Wilson Ludlow Scott, a descendant of Rhoda Hutchinson, was involved in reopening that mine in the 1970s which, by Hutchinson family standards, isn't so very long ago. Scott was optimistic about the prospects of the mine, but he didn't seem to be unreasonably so. These various mining interests make for an intriguing if sometimes strange stream of Hutchinson family history.  | |  This footnote is already huge, so for now I'll only add that Asa Hutchinson and his son, Oliver Dennett Hutchinson, were involved in the 1880 Leadville miner's strike. (Asa and Dennett opposed the strikers.)  New information about that labor action is now available, and some very important old information has resurfaced. I can't do anything about it here, but later I plan to go into it elsewhere.  | |  The year 1880 featured notable births and deaths. The most pertinent of those which were not mentioned by John in this book may have been the death of Sister Rhoda's husband, Matthew Gray. The farmers who worked the Mont Vernon and Milford homesteads were of great importance to Hutchinson family history, though they ordinarily operated in the background. This, of course, applies to Rhoda Hutchinson at the Milford homestead as much as to anyone else.

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half-bushel of pears, and it was a sight to look upon to see those children devour them. In a few minutes every one had disappeared into the pockets or stomachs of the party.

The remainder of 1880 passed quietly, Henry being busy with his signal-service improvements, and I arranging for occasional concerts.

[1881]

On New Years Day, 1881, I went to the banquet of the Massachusetts Club at Young's Hotel, Boston, dining with Governor Claflin, Hon. John B. Alley, and other worthies. On the same day Walter Kittredge came down from Reed's Ferry to join me in a campaign, he reading and I singing. He had written a poem-lecture, which he read. The next day we had a temperance meeting, it being Sunday. James N. Buffum was present and spoke. On the 10th we sang in North Saugus; on the following night at Rockport, with Rev. R. B. Howard, the great peace agitator, secretary of the American Peace Society and brother of General O. O. Howard.  On the 15th of February, I composed the music for a new song, "Which way is your musket a-p'intin' to-day?"

"James N. Buffum was present and spoke":   For James N. Buffum and John W. Hutchinson to take part in an event on friendly terms  -  or, at least, on a live-and-let-live basis  -  in these years is highly unusual.

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On March 4th I went to Washington to view the inauguration ceremonies, in company with Abby and Ludlow. It was the gossip about Washington society circles that Abby was the first to predict the nomination and election of Garfield. During her stay in the capital early in the previous year there was a reception at which she was present. General Garfield came in, and as he shook hands with Abby, she remarked, "We are going to make you our president."  Time proved her to be right.

1881 odds and ends:   While there can be no doubt that Asa B. Hutchinson really loved Leadville, Colorado, nonetheless, now that my timeline for his branch of the Hutchinson family is starting to come together, it is evident that he was based in Leadville over a good deal shorter time period than I had once thought. It was Oliver Dennett Hutchinson, though, who was first to leave. Speaking of Dennett, Carol Brink wrote, "He organized his wife, Miss Carrie, Miss Alice and a basso by the name of Guise into a troupe which he called 'Hutchinson Family, Tribe of Asa, Young Folks Quartette,' and they left Leadville to sing their way to the East." [Carol Brink, Harps in the Wind: The Story of the Singing Hutchinsons (New York: Macmillan, 1947), 268.]  Having been born and raised in Maine, it is hard for me to think of traveling east to Minnesota; but I take Carol Brink to mean that Dennett's concert company sang its way, Hutchinson Family-style, from Leadville, Colorado, to Hutchinson, Minnesota. It was said that Asa had health troubles starting that same year, which required him to leave the high altitude of Leadville. But it is known that he and Joanna C. Hutchinson had their differences and that each left Leadville separately in 1881.  | |  Strange as it seems, Lynn, Massachusetts, journalists and historians often counted 1881 as the year that John W. Hutchinson settled in that city. Evidently for some reason they thought they couldn't count him as a resident during his touring years.  | |  William W. Campbell, Viola Hutchinson Campbell's father-in-law, died in 1881.

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The fall of that year was notable for a short trip through Maine as far as Bangor, with my wife, Henry and Lillie, Jenniebelle Neale, reader, and others.

[1882]

[John jumps back briefly  to the summer of 1881, but basically this is the start of his narrative of 1882.]

The winter and spring of 1882 passed quietly.

During the summer of 1881 I established a café in the Stone Cottage, which was in Henry's charge. In May, a man was teaming a load of lumber up John's Avenue, along the Essex Street front of my property. The land pitches off abruptly at this point, and therefore it was very unfortunate that the horse should become balky, and begin to back. The wheels went over the edge of the avenue, and soon the load of lumber, wagon and all, was rolling merrily down the terrace, the horse backing hastily after it, as he could not well do otherwise. The driver saw the peril his turnout was in, and yelled like mad. I arrived on the scene just as the lumber went over my cherished Centennial wall and scattered promiscuously over Highland Square. Fortunately the front wheel of the wagon caught on the capstone of the wall, which stood the strain finely, and the transom bolt, for a wonder, did not break. The result was that the horse remained on the bank, and was saved any injury.

On August 29th, David, my eldest brother, died, at the age of seventy-seven. A short time previous, I had received a dispatch saying that if I desired to see him alive I must hasten to Milford. Responding at once, I arrived late in the evening, and took quarters at the hotel. In the morning I stood on the piazza, when I descried a farmer's wagon coming up the street, with another wagon attached, behind. Sitting erect in the vehicle, driving, was a form that I knew could be none else than my brother. With some agitation, but joyfully, I rushed out to intercept him, remarking,

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"David, I came up to bury you!"  "Get right in here," he said, cheerily, and then drove on to the blacksmith's, leaving his extra wagon for repairs. Then we drove together to several of the old places, called at Noah's, at the farm where Caleb used to live, and to see Sister Rhoda, then on her death-bed. Up to this time David had never seen his way clear to give up his claim to his share in the old homestead, where Rhoda lived. All the others had released their claims to her years before. Now he said, "Rhoda, all things will be well when I go away."  When his will was read it was found to be true. He had released it. I sang to them with tearful voice:

Then they tried to unite with me in singing our family song, the "Old Granite State."  After this I bade Rhoda a long adieu, and went home with David. After a hearty dinner I went to the home of Kate Dearborn, Judson's daughter, and after tea to Joshua's, where I spent the night. A few weeks later, and word came that David was dead. At his funeral Joshua and John, with Ludlow and Abby, sang, "No Tear in Heaven," and "The Shining Shore."  A newspaper clipping of the time says:

Peacefully Asleep.  David Hutchinson, the chieftain of the "Tribe of Jesse," of the well-known Hutchinson Family, went peacefully to sleep on the evening of August 29th, at Milford, N.H., having reached the ripe age of seventy-seven years. He was the second son in

"Where is now the merry party":   From the song, "Far Away."  Available sources differ regarding the songwriter credits. Some attribute words and music to Mrs. J. Worthington Bliss. Other sources, while crediting the music to Mrs. Bliss, attribute the lyrics to Miss M. Lindsay; and this appears to be correct.

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a family of sixteen children, all singers. Though he had a fine bass voice, he rarely sang in public. His life was spent on a New Hampshire farm, and by untiring energy and industry he had amassed a handsome property. He leaves eight children.

David's sons, Hayward and Jesse, came on from Washington and Baltimore to the funeral. Busy men though they were, they stayed over long enough to go and see their Aunt Rhoda for the last time. In three weeks she, too, passed away. The same quartet sang the same songs at her funeral. The Farmer's Cabinet said:

Death of another of the Hutchinson Family. - We regret to chronicle the fact that the Hutchinson Family have been called to mourn the loss of two of their number within the short space of three weeks. David, who died August 29th, was buried on that beautiful autumnal day, September 1st. He was the first-born of the family but one  -  who died in early youth  -  being in the seventy-eighth year of his age. He was a well-to-do farmer, of indomitable will, always having lived upon and tilled the soil of his native town. His sister, Mrs. Rhoda Gray, who had been suffering for a long time from spinal difficulty, soon followed him, she dying on Sunday, the 18th instant, in the sixty-third year of her age. Funeral services were held at the house on the following Tuesday, Rev. W. P. Lamb speaking words of comfort to the family and neighbors who had gathered to pay the last respect which the living may minister to the dead. Rare and fragrant flowers adorned the casket of the one beloved, who in life so well sustained all domestic relations. The pall-bearers were Joshua and John, brothers of the deceased, Ludlow Patton, brother-in-law, John, Bruce and Appleton Hutchinson, nephews, with Levi Curtis as conductor. Appropriate quartet music was rendered by the Messrs Hamblett and Rideout. After the services at the house, the remains were conveyed to the family burying ground on the north side of the Souhegan River, and laid at rest beneath the greensward of the valley. As the family gathered around the grave, "Our days are gliding swiftly by" was beautifully sung by Joshua, John and Abby, assisted by others of the family.

Mrs. Gray was the oldest sister of the world-renowned Hutchinson Family. She was possessed of a rich, high soprano voice, and in her younger days travelled with the 'home branch' of the family while the quartet proper was in England. She was twice married, and leaves two children  -  by her first husband Isaac A. Bartlett Mrs. Marietta, wife of Henry Loveridge, of Orange, N.J.; by her second, Matthew

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Gray, Mrs. Nellie, wife of Charles Webster, who resides at the old (Hutchinson) homestead, where Mrs. Gray has always lived, and where she passed her last days. Of the numerous family of sixteen children but four now remain, Joshua, John, Asa and Abby.

On April 30, 1882, I attended the funeral of Ralph Waldo Emerson, at Concord. I felt well acquainted with the Concord philosopher, for I had often met him at woman suffrage and similar gatherings. During this spring I did little but worry. However, I managed to get in a few concerts and temperance meetings. On July 4th there was a great temperance demonstration at Lake Walden, Concord. We sung ten times during the meeting. Henry Ward Beecher, Mary A. Livermore, Rev. W. W. Downs, and Miss Minnie F. Mosher were the speakers. James H. Roberts, of Cambridge, a noted temperance worker, was in charge of the affair.

A while before this I visited Mount Auburn Cemetery, at Cambridge, with my son Judson. Longfellow had died but a short time before. By his will, he had directed that all ornaments be removed from his burial lot. The workmen were removing the stonework, and one of them gave me the cap-stone from one of the posts.

In August we made a trip down to Martha's Vineyard, and gave some concerts.

In September Lucy Stone and Henry B. Blackwell went campaigning in Nebraska, preaching woman suffrage. I planned to go with them, and even went so far as to secure my ticket, but just as I was about to start, received word that little Jesse, Henry's second son was dangerously sick, and returned to High Rock. On September 13th, dear little Jesse died. The next day he was buried. One of the most touching things at the funeral was his brother Jack, three years old, singing

"During this spring I did little but worry":   It would have been great if John had said what worried him at this particular time.

"On September 13th, dear little Jesse died":   We know nothing about Jesse Hutchinson, second son of Henry and Lillie Hutchinson. And like all the other Hutchinson graves at Lynn's Eastern Burying Ground, Jesse's grave has been totally vandalized.

1882 odds and ends:   In 1882, Oliver Dennett Hutchinson bought an interest in a Hutchinson, Minnesota, drug store. He became the sole owner in 1885; and he remained as the store's proprietor until 1889, at which time he became Hutchinson's post master. A Hutchinson who visited that community no more than two or three years ago said that, at the time, the post office featured an O. Dennett Hutchinson display.  | |  Sources vary, but it appears most likely that Richard D. Hutchinson  -  a grandson who will go on to be quite important to John W. Hutchinson's branch of the family  -  was born in 1882.  | |  The score of John's  "Which Way Is Your Musket a-P'intin' To-day"  is dated 1882. Though it is by no means a personal favorite, John sang it often and clearly thought it made a powerful statement. This song received significant attention in the press.

Which "Way Is Your Musket A-P'intin' Today" score

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"The Sweet By and By."  Jack has the musical and general characteristics of the family to a very marked degree, combined with his mother's lovable and engaging qualities.

In October and November we gave concerts in Springfield, Fitchburg, Attleboro, Schnectady (N.Y.), Albany, and other points. The latter part of December I spent in New York, having an enjoyable visit with Sister Abby.

The closing hours of the year were spent at the Academy of Music, Brooklyn, in company with my nephew, David J. Hutchinson, whose guest I was. The great hall was crowded with an audience of three thousand earnest souls, attending a watch-night service. Dr. Pentecost spoke. I sung, "No Night There."  Mr. and Mrs. George C. Stebbins were also present, and sung, "O turn ye, O turn ye, for why will ye die."

[1883]

I remained with David several days. My sixty-second birthday, January 4th, I spent at Frank B. Carpenter's with Sister Abby. On the 6th I visited my old temperance society, the Manhattan, conducted by my friend Gibbs, and sung to them. On the 9th I went to Warren, Mass., and sung at a concert in the Methodist Episcopal Church, of which Rev. Alonzo Sanderson was pastor. My kind friend, Laura E. Dainty, elocutionist, assisted in giving the entertainment. Mr. Sanderson was a man who had often secured my services. He is one of the most successful church-builders in the Bay State. A few years before this he had built the beautiful Trinity Church in Lynn, enlisting the hearty co-operation of people of all denominations in the enterprise, by his infectious enthusiasm. He was wont to quaintly remark that when he died, he hoped his epitaph would be: "And the beggar died."

"Mr. and Mrs. George C. Stebbins were also present":   "O Turn Ye, For Why Will Ye Die," words: Samson Occom, tune: "Expostulation" by Josiah Hopkins.

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In my diary for this period, I find this original expression of my condition of thought:

The Lynn Assembly was very active at this time. It was one of the most successful debating societies the city ever saw. Many men who have since gained political distinction were members. Henry and I joined, and spent many happy hours as listeners to or participators in the debates. We were in the habit of putting in songs at effective places in the discussions.

On January 21st Joshua died at Milford, at the age of seventy-one years, two months. He had been practically deprived of his singing-voice for six years. The funeral occurred in the chapel of the Congregational Church on the 25th. The services lasted two hours. Among the mourners with me, were Sister Abby and Ludlow, Henry Loveridge, husband of Etta, Rhoda's daughter, Fanny and Henry, John W., 2d, Appleton, and others of the family. The Milford quartet sung, and the family sung three times. A fuller account of the service appears elsewhere.

During this year the custom of having Sunday afternoon temperance meetings in Tremont Temple, Boston, was in vogue. The assistance of the Hutchinson Family was often requested and freely given. On Thursday, February 22d, Washington's Birthday was celebrated by a great temperance gathering of children in the Mechanics' Institute, Boston. John B. Gough, Governor

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St. John, of Kansas, Rev. Dr. A. A. Miner and James S. Grinnell were the speakers. We sang two songs.

In the spring the perennial question of the purchase of High Rock came before the city government, but nothing came of it.

On April 18th I visited Pine Grove Cemetery in Lynn with Henry, and in the tomb we saw the remains of Wm. A. Lerow. He was a friend of ours who had been killed by the premature discharge of an explosive for which he was an agent. He was a great admirer of our song "The People's Advent," and at one time I remember sent me a five-dollar bill to secure a copy of it, it not then being in print. His funeral occurred in Cambridge, but the interment was in Lynn. Henry received a letter from a friend, enclosing a paper covered with the scribblings of Lerow's little child, with the request that he put it in the coffin. He did so. One year from the date of that sad visit, Henry died.

On May 12th I went to Washington to attend the funeral of Hayward Hutchinson, who had died of Bright's disease. Among those in attendance were James G. Blaine, Judge Miller of the Supreme Court, Colonel R. G. Ingersoll, and other noted men. The funeral was on Saturday. I had agreed to sing at Tremont Temple in Boston on Sunday afternoon, and so thought I would not go to the grave with the mourners. Elias, Hayward's brother, assured me that I would be back in full season to take the train, so I stayed. The ceremonies at the tomb were long and the horses slow in returning, so that I missed the train after all. I went to the W.C.T.U. headquarters and was at once invited to sing in the temperance meeting on Sunday afternoon. Going to the meeting, I sang until the time

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arrived to take the train north. Meanwhile, Henry and Lillie, with my wife, had proceeded to Boston and filled the engagement there.

On May 19th Fanny and I attended the funeral of Lydia Pinkham, a woman of fine character and lovable disposition, whom we had known over half a century. She was quite an admirer of the Hutchinsons, and all these years had invited us to visit her. Once, on a trip from the White Mountains she with her husband called at our house in Milford, renewing her invitation. I said, "Yes, Lydia, we'll try and come to see you, though we visit but little in Lynn."  Thirty years passed, and through her medicines she had become famous, but still our promise was unfulfilled. Four weeks before she died, I met her near the old family homestead on Esther Street. She said, "You haven't filled your engagement yet."  I said, "Lydia, I will come."  Then a few days elapsed, and taking up a paper, I read that she was dead.  "Now," said I, "I will surely go."  It was late when Fanny and I arrived at the funeral, but two seats remained vacant, though many people were standing, one at the head and the other at the foot of the remains. These we took. I sat so that I could look at the calm, bright countenance. She was a Spiritualist. The spirit discourses at the funeral were beautiful. By invitation we rode to the cemetery, and at the grave sang "Almost Home," the setting sun streaming over the casket as we chanted the sad but hopeful refrain.

Notes by Alan Lewis