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Note: ELHANAN (4) -- Thomas(3), Chad (2), Arthur (1) -- was born Aug. 31, 1772, and married Jan. 21, 1793, in Foster, R. I., Mary Harrington, who was born June 12, 1769, and who was a daughter of Nathaniel and Mary (Bates) Harrington,* of Foster, who were married Nov. 6, 1748. Mary Bates was a daughter of James Bates, of Coventry. They dwelt in Hoosick, N. Y., until the winter of 1796-7, when he settled in the Butternut Creek Valley, in the town of Burlington, Otsego Co., N. Y., where she died Sept. 9, 1855, and he Oct. 17, 1857, and were buried in the Brick School House Cemeter
Their family of children consisted of four sons and five daughters: 219. i Martha (5) b. Oct. 20, 1793, m. Wm. Campbell; dw. in Burlington.
220. ii Nathaniel (5) b. March 31, 1795, m. Harriet Parsons; dw. in Burlington.
221. iii Tabitha (5) b May 19,1797. m. Joseph Neff.
222. iv Allen Harrington (5) b. April 12, 1799, m. Lefer Tebbits; dw. in Manard
Co., Ill. 223. v Polly (5) b. March 26,1801. m. Rev. Isaac Stone; died in Verona, N. Y.
224. vi Susan (5) b. Aug. 13, 1813, m. Sylvester Reed; dw. in Burlington.
225. vii Mahala (5) b, March 1, .1806, m, Orrin Reed; dw. in Burlington, ,
226. viii Hiram (5) b, Sept. 24, 1808, m, Betsey Morgan; dw. Ashtabula Co., O.
227. ix Perry (5) b, Nov, 21, 1812, m. Luna N. Delong; dw, Burlington. ___________________________________________________________________________
* Nathaniel Harrington's will was made March 6.1816, and proved April 8, 1816, and mentions his sons, Caleb, Nathaniel, and John, his daughter, Polly Aylsworth, wife of Elhanan Aylsworth, and his grand-son, Wate Morse.
Mary, daughter of Gov. Jenckes, married May 20, 1722, Joseph Herndon, Jr.. who was doubtless the father of Nathaniel Harrington. Mary had a brother, Captain Nathaniel Jenckes, from whom Nathaniel Harrington was probably named. Mary's mother was Martha, daughter of Rev. John Brown, son of Chad.
The following extract from a letter is inserted as a tribute to the memory of this estimable woman (Mary Harrington), and serves at the same time to illustrate filial devotion, refined sentiment, and scholarly taste of the writer of the letter, her youngest son (Perry Aylesworth):
BURLINGTON, N. Y., Monday. 5 o'clock, P. M.
Sept. l0th, 1855
My DEAR HOMER - The solemn task devolves upon me of informing you that your grand mother is no more. She died yesterday at precisely 20 minutes past 11 o'clock in the forenoon. I have just returned from the funeral, which was held at the brick school-house. The discourse was preached by Rev'd Mr Shank, of Hartwick, from Heb. 4 :9, and now all that was earthly of that feeble tenement is sleeping well in the city of the dead. I was in almost constant attendance at her bedside for about fifteen hours before her death, and I must say, that seat was to me the seat of wisdom. It was my lot, it was my choice. Thought, busy thought! Reflections of the past mingled with the scene before me. On a dark but cloudless night, the 12th of June, 1769, her history began. Then onward was the fair and sprightly girl, the blooming bride, the pioneer to a distant wilderness, the pious mother, the frugal and diligent house-wife, the invaluable neighbor, blessed by the sick and the poor. Then the aged matron who had outlived her own generation, and through the mutations of time became a stranger in her own neighborhood. In her downward progress her strength failed, then her memory, then her reason, and finally her speech. Her last few years, as you are well aware, were years of helplessness and dependence, as also years of pain. Knowing that her time had come I took my station by her side on Saturday evening about 8 oclock to moisten her parched lips and minister to her relief as far as human agency allows. At 4 o'clock in the morning I called the family. She sank away slowly as the sun rose higher and higher, the hard breathing, the hollow moan, the heaving bosom, and the pallid features, all admonishing us that the soul had but a brief lodgment in its earthly tenement. then to close the last scene, a gasp and the gulf was passed which separates this world of trouble from the land of rest. There was the heart to whose pulsations I owe my vital breath; there was the hand that labored for my comfort; and there was the eye that watched over my helpless infancy, but that heart, that hand, that eye, have been touched by the icy finger and was now committed to the unrevealing silence that is only broken by the last trumpet, Then, farewell, dear mother, thy memory well deserves the tribute of tears. O, how insignificant is all the patient toil by which I have sought to sooth thy declining years! * * *
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