An Untilted Account

Related by Jacob Mills to Hon. T. M. Niven

I had to work my own way, as I had an older brother, and as this was before our Revolution and we were under British law, the law of primogeniture was in force, consequently my brother was the heir of the paternal acres in Smithtown, L. I. I was put to learn the trade of tanner, currier and shoemaker. In those days they were combined generally, on the Island at least. When I grew up to young manhood I, with other young fellows, would go over early in the spring to Nantucket and ship for a whaling voyage to Greenland, as they called it. These voyages only lasted for six or seven months, and this was the only whaling fishery there was in those days. There was no wages, but a certain division of the catch to each man according to his position on the vessel. In the fall we would be back, and I would return home and work at my trade in the winter. In this way I earned several hundred pounds (no dollars then) and thought it wise to emigrate west. So with my money I came to Orange County and bought a tract of land about four miles back of New Windsor, (Newburgh did not then exist.) I built a house and sunk some tan vats, and soon after got married to your grandmother. The Revolution broke out, but I kept hard at work farming, tanning and shoe-making. I never was in the army, as my trade was required to make shoes for the soldiers. I belonged to a militia company and when the British were coming up the North River to attack Fort Montgomery, our company was suddenly ordered out one day to march from New Windsor next morning to Fort Montgomery. I worked all that night to make a pair of shoes for one of our men who was barefoot. When we got to West Point we heard the firing, as the action had begun. Some of our fellows began to lose heart and our progress was not very rapid. Between West Point and Fort Montgomery there was a small house near the shore. We concluded to halt for refreshments. Found the woman crying. Her husband was in the fort, and as it was only about two miles away the firing seemed terrific. She brought us some New England rum. It was before the days of apple whiskey, as no orchards had grown in Orange County to speak of. The men took a drink around to stiffen their courage, and then asked her for a bottle of it to take along in case of accident and I was chosen to carry the bottle. (And here the old man said, ‘Hattie, get the camphor bottle.’ It was produced.) And now (said he), here is the identical bottle which has been in my house ever since. When we got within half a mile of the fort we met the fleeing garrison, who had escaped as the British had stormed and taken the fort. We were ordered to the right-about, which was readily obeyed.

I furnished a good many shoes for the army and became quite rich in Continental money. But at the close of the war my money was not worth a cent, and I had to begin afresh with a wife and family besides. But my place was paid for. I never believed in giving mortgages. I preferred taking them. Well, pretty soon, say about 20 or 25 years, I deemed it best with my big flock of children to emigrate west. I sold my place near New Windsor and came up in the stony forest of Scotchtown and bought 2,250 acres, built a house and sunk my tan-vats again. After a few years I hired a mason, who lived at Little Britain, to build be a stone house. Subsequently I gave that with a farm to Samuel, and built this one in which we are to-day.