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Note: 88a-g8Le7 Mary8 Hills Leggett born February 10, 1878 in Elizabeth, NJ
died July 27, 1901 in Elizabeth, NJ, buried Green-Wood Cemetery Brooklyn, NY
She never married. At age 22 she contracted cancer and suffered through an amputation in the course of a long confinement to her parents' home. She was an active member of Westminster Presbyterian Church, Elizabeth, participating in its many charitable ministries.
[Third - Westminster Presbyterian Church?
Address: 780 Salem Ave
Elizabeth, NJ 07208
Telephone: 908-352-5827
http://apps.pcusa.org/churches]
She died 27 July 1901 and was buried in Greenwood Cemetery, Brooklyn.
Birth year of 1876 on Mary's stone in the Benjamin W. Clapp Plot, Lot 613, Section 44, Green Wood Cemetery, Brooklyn, N.Y., is in conflict with the correct year (1878) on the central family monument in the plot.
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The New York Times, 28 July 1901
DIED.
LEGGETT.-At Elizabeth, N. J., on Saturday, July 27, 1901, Mary Hills Leggett, only daughter of E. Howard and Georgiana Clapp Leggett, age twenty-three years.
Funeral services on Monday, the 20th inst., at 1 o`clock, at the residence of her parents, 450 North Broad St. Relatives and friends invited.
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Newspaper clipping, probably the Elizabeth Times,
27 July 1901:
Mary Hills Leggett.
Mary Hills Leggett, only daughter of E. Howard and Georgiana Clapp Leggett, died this morning at the residence of her parents, 450 North Broad street. The illness of Miss Leggett was attended by the most pathetic circumstances, and for the many months of her painful affliction, she was the object of the tenderest solicitude and kindliest sympathy. Her sufferings included the amputation of a limb. She improved for a while after the surgical operation, but finally the disease again asserted itself, and until the end she was a great sufferer, but the loveliness of her character was ever evidenced by her fortitude and Christian resignation.
Miss Leggett was in the 24th year of her age. She was a member of Westminster Presbyterian Church, and was greatly interested in all the charitable work of the church.
Newspaper clipping, probably the Elizabeth Times,
29 July 1901:
Funeral of Miss Leggett.
Funeral services of Miss Mary Hills Leggett, only daughter of Mr. and Mrs. E. Howard Leggett, took place yesterday at the home of her parents, 450 North Broad street, with a large attendance of sympathizing friends. Rev. H. W. Hathaway read selections of Scripture and offered prayer, and a comforting address was delivered by Rev. William B. Hamilton. There was singing of appropriate selections. Interment was made in Greenwood Cemetery, where Mr. Hamilton performed the committal services, and the numerous floral offerings which had been forwarded to the house of mourning were deposited in the grave with the body.
Newspaper clipping, probably the Elizabeth Times,
Probably on or about 29 July 1901:
Mary Hills Leggett.
Mary, lily-like and fair,
Grew in the sunshine of the Father's care,
And as a daughter of the King
Became all beautiful within.
And then she passed on from our sight
To continue growth in the Heavenly light,
And what has she left on the path of life?
A memory sweet, of patience, love, and
kindly deeds.
And bravery such as a soldier needs.
Of courage that rose at the darkest hour,
Of trust and faith in God the All-Power,
Ah, rich the legacy she has left-
In remembering others, and forgetting self.
F. H. L. [Mary's aunt, Florence Huggins Leggett, 1863-1934]
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Letter No. 17 of Mary's grandfather, Thomas B. Leggett. All such surviving letters may be found by consulting the chart under the Notes for Thomas:
293 Lenox Ave.
New York
June 18, 1892
My dear Granddaughter
Mary H. Leggett This letter now closes my narrative for the season. It is too warm to think and too debilitating to write and too much to expect you to read. I hope my letter will not prove stupid to you. I have endeavored to think up only those subjects which will please and interest you, without repeating myself in which I have already written your brother Howard. Of course, you know it requires no effort to criticise what another may write, but it oftentimes requires considerable effort to do better. I have had but one object in view in writing these letters, which was to better inform you of your ancestors, when and how they lived and how things were done in those days. This letter may prove rather long for you, but to say what I wished to say, I could not condense more than I have. My letter of June 11th. left us standing on what we boys called "Conjugating Rock". If you feel so disposed, I will propose we continue our walk and talk. I will therefore ask you to walk over this way. I want to show you a clump of sassafras trees which are on a line with the back lawn leading on to the shore. Do you see those seats up on the branches of that tallest tree of all? Well, we boys put them there so we could get up in the tree and sit on them and have a fine view all about. You don`t know what nice times we had there. We also pulled up the roots of this tree to have old nurse Susan make sassafras tea for us, which when well iced, makes a very pleasant drink. Unless you have tasted it, you would not know what a pleasant flavor it has.
Now walk along the stone fence for a little way. You see there are three tall pear trees which grow close together just up on the bank by the boat house. Well those pears are so bitter to the taste, that if you were to bite into one, you could not get the bitter taste out of your mouth for a whole day. The trees so make such a pleasant shade of a hot day. You see we have made a long bench under them where we can make ourselves very comfortable. The sail boat anchored in the river just in front of us is our father`s pleasure sail boat and we all think she is a beauty. Do you notice how lightly she sits in the water and how gracefully she rides the waves? Her name is "Rover" and the name is painted on the stern. How tall her mast is and how clean she looks, painted all white outside and dark green inside. I would like to take you aboard to see her pretty little cabin. I know you would be pleased, but we cannot do it today. But I will say that when the day is fine and the wind blowing steadily, her mainsail hauled, the jib set taut, anchor raised, her rudder put about and brought up to the wind, we boys all board and our father at the helm, the little sloop bending to the force of the wind and down to her very gunwales, going through the water with the speed of a race horse was something to those fond of the water. Those who have never tried it have no idea of what pleasure it gives.
You must look at this beautiful beech tree on the lower part of the lot. This is the largest tree on all the property. Do you notice how thick is the foliage, how smooth the bark, and how clean it looks? That tree in the fall of the year will be loaded down with nuts and on the hottest day of summer the foliage gives perfect protection from the sun. The quantity of nuts which this tree produces and which cover the ground in the fall is simply wonderful. Did you ever taste a beech nut? They are very nice, I assure you. Now there are three other trees I want to show you. They are just over the Ha-Ha-wall on the point lot, fronting the river, are known as the persimmon tree, also called the date-plum. These trees are all of sixty feet high and grow up straight as a Liberty pole, without a branch for forty feet or more from the ground. Their fruit is of a plum size, and when touched by the frost in the fall of the year, becomes quite sweet and palatable. But if you should bite into one before the frost has touched it, your mouth and your whole face would be so puckered up you could not get it in shape again for a long time. Now you must walk over here and look at this tree just at the foot of the garden, standing over on the point lot. This tree, when in full flower, is considered the most beautiful of all ornamental trees. It is called the tulip tree, and this one towers up in the air for over a hundred feet, the trunk being all of three feet thick. The flowers are shaped very much like the tulip and are grown on the very extreme end of the little branches. At any time it is a beautiful tree, but when covered with yellow tulip shaped flowers it is just gorgeous. Did you ever see a tulip tree in full bloom?
As we are but a short distance from the boat house and deck, will you come and have a look at them? The boat house is used for keeping the large pleasure row boat, which is raised up out of the water. The house is also used for bathing, having a wooden floor under the water built on an inclined plane, so when you step off the platform into the water the farther out you go, the deeper the water would be. On the end of the bath house there were slat gates and ropes to hold on with. It was a very nice safe place. On the outside you see a long narrow bridge which runs out well into the deep water. This little foot bridge is for small boats to land when the tide is low and you cannot get to the boat house. That little boat you see tied to a stake on the meadows is what is called a skiff. It is a small, very light, flat bottomed and sharply pointed boat, used only for going up very shallow creeks. We use it for catching crabs. When the tide is out and the water low, just on the rise the crabs will follow the rising tide and come up the creek in great numbers. We then take the little skiff, one boy in the stern slowly pushing the boat along, the other standing in the bow, crab net in hand. So soon as a crab comes along, he will push his net under him and then drop him into a covered box on the bottom of the boat. This is the manner in which most of the crabs are caught. We also use this skiff when we go on the mud flats to tread for hard shell clams. We take off our shoes and stockings, roll up our trousers above our knees, and our sleeves above our elbows, get out of the boat into the dirty soft mud, push the skiff along, and if we feel anything hard underfoot, put our hand and arm down in the soft mud, get the clam, throw it into the boat and go on. Now I suppose you will say, "What dirty work." Well, it is so, but at the same time, there is a certain amount of fun in it. This treading for clams is how most of them are gathered.
Now walk over to the dock. This little stretch of beach sand you see between the bath house and dock is a wonderfully nice place to pick up pretty stones and small shells. You will always find them, as there is a fresh supply washed up at every rise and fall of the tide. At one time I found on the beach a dead and dried fish whose head was in the exact shape of that of a horse. It was looked upon as a great curiosity. Well, here we are at the dock. When the tide is up, it looks very pretty all about. Summer evenings, when there were young girls visiting our sister, Father
would get ready the large row boat, and with two men to row would take the sail boat in tow with Mother and all the young girls comfortably seated in it. In the stern of the row boat we boys were seated with our instruments, and as the men rowed about the river, we would play songs which the girls would sing. I assure you it was sweet music and the neighbors said it was most enjoyable.
Now you see that long stretch of water wall running all along the shore of the point lot? This wall is to keep the waves from washing away the banks. That sandy shore just ahead of us is where the old fisherman and his men draw the seine. This old man with his boys has fished about this shore all his days. The old man knew my father when he was a boy, so father allows him to continue to draw his seine, although we often find him a great nuisance. To watch the men draw the seine is very interesting. I hardly know how to describe the plan of a seine to you further than to say that it is a long square netting made of heavy fish line. The whole length of the net may be a hundred feet or perhaps much more. The two ends of the net are fastened to the shore and the great bulk of the net is then carried out in a boat and thrown into the river. There are weights fastened along the net which cause one edge to sink in the water. The top edge is fastened to floats and the whole drawn slightly off the bottom until it forms a figure like a square box open on the top. The net is then anchored in position and as the fish swim about, they get caught in the seine, not knowing enough to come to the top and get out. At each rise of the tide the seine is drawn. To do this two men will stand on the shore, as far apart as the net is wide, and slowly pull the net toward them. As the outer part of the net is brought closer to shore they can tell by the hardness of the pull how large the catch is. Sometimes it requires two men at each end. As the net is brought in the men come closer and closer to each other and excitement and curiosity increases to see what kind and quantity of fish have been caught. I have often witnessed the drawing of this seine, and have always had excited feelings come over me when the net was reaching the shore, and then to see the great variety of strange looking things was very interesting. I should like very much for you to see the drawing of the seine, but that cannot be now, for we must move on.
Well, here we are at that little pavillion of our sister. [Catherine Maria Leggett Allen, (1817-1890)] I have already written your brother Howard of this as well as about the large rock directly in front of it. When our girl cousins were visiting my sister, they would come to this pavillion, and put a curtain across the room, calling one side the parlor and the other side the dressing room. They would then get themselves up in all the finery to which they could put their hands, coming out into their parlor as grand ladies. We boys would then make our formal call upon them. I do not doubt that if a picture had been taken of us then, it would be well worth looking at now, and if the conversation and remarks had been recorded, they would give much amusement as well.
We will now walk along and around the point, entering the woods about which I have already written Howard. You see here some fine old trees, the chestnut in great abundance, the black walnut, the butter nut and the hazel nut. This is considered a beautiful little woods, such a variety of trees and shrubs and so many small song birds. As we leave the woods you will notice that a fine view there is of the house, how large it stands out before you. Now step over this wall. I want to show you a clump of mulberry trees which stand by themselves in the lower part of the pear orchard. There are three different kinds of mulberries, black, red and white. The red are, by far, the most pleasant to my taste, they are so sweet and juicy. I have eaten of the fruit until my mouth, face and hands would be covered with the red and black juice, and you could not tell what my original color might have been. The quantity of fruit these trees produce is something wonderful. They are a very long lived tree, living for hundreds of years, and are very useful. On the leaves silkworms may be fed. The wood is used for cabinet and other purposes; from the bark of the young shoots paper is made; the roots are valuable as medicine; from the fruit is made a light wine and excellent preserves as well as the fruit themselves being esteemed as a table dessert.
I have now given you quite a little walk, so we will return to the house by passing through the lower gate of the garden, but resting a moment on this rustic seat by the grape arbor. You notice that this is the lower or vegetable garden which is separated from the upper garden by that green embankment. On our way we will stop for a moment at the greenhouse. There is not much to see in it in the month of June, as most, if not all the plants are out in the gardens. Those orange and lemon trees which you see in the large green tubs and so full of fruit, were raised from cuttings planted in pots of sand and kept under glass. See how strong and thrifty they now look. They can hardly be conceived as once being no larger than pipe stems and now grown to trees eight feet high and loaded with delicious fruit. Now walk up these steps and we will again enter the main garden on the way to the house. Do you observe how evenly and true the box hedge is trimmed. It borders all the walks and beds. On your right, over by the picket fence is a hedge of Althea, also called the Marsh Mallow and Rose of Sharon. It is very pretty when in full bloom. The hedge which crosses the garden in the distance is the osage orange. It grows so strong and close together that nothing can go through it. The wood is a bright yellow, very elastic and much used in making bows. The Indians make many of their best bows from this wood. Now stop for a moment, for here is a little plant called the "Sensitive Plant". If you touch one of its leaves with your finger it immediately closes up, and if you continue to touch leaf after leaf, they will all close up. If you touch one of the smaller branches, it too will hang down and the same with the main stem, which will cause the whole plant to wilt. After leaving the plant for some time, it will again straighten up and the leaves unfold to fresh life. It is a very strange and curious plant and most interesting to study. Now in this other bed is one more strange plant I would like to show you. It is called the "Ice Plant", and looks as if it were covered with drops of ice. If you touch the plant with your finger it will feel cold to the touch, and regardless of how hot the sun may be the plant is always cold as ice to the touch and the ice drops sparkle all the brighter. Both these plants must be raised in the hot house. We will now pass through the garden gate and over the lawn to the house for a rest, for we have had a long walk.
Let us now enter the house and look first at the hall as it appeared in the summer months during those ten years from 1830 to 1840. You must admit that it is indeed a fine wide hall, so light and cheerful and what a comfortable and homelike atmosphere all about. See that old-fashioned sofa, large enough to seat with comfort a half dozen or more persons, with its high cushioned back extending around each end, all stuffed and covered so comfortably. How deep the seat is, how soft the cushions are and how inviting it looks. Many is the sweet sleep we boys had when but little fellows on that old sofa of a long, hot summer afternoon. Walk across the hall and look out of this window on that pretty little garden. We boys call it Mother`s garden. We boys never go in it for fear of injuring some little plant which she may be nursing. How well it is kept, not a weed in it for old John the gardener knows full well how particular Mother is. How neatly and evenly the box is trimmed. Our mother was very fond of the different varieties of geranium, particularly the sweet scented. She likes also the lily of the valley and these two flowers were constantly on her tables. On either side of the hall are doors leading to different rooms. I would like to take you through them but will not have space in this letter.
In the summer evenings, with the back and front doors open, this hall would have been delightfully cool. With the family all gathered about each interested in his own belongings or enjoying themselves in their own way, it was a pleasant, happy picture to look upon. On one side of the wall by the front door hangs the old spy glass, ready, at a moment`s notice for use if anything important should be on the river. If we only had the time and space in this letter, I would like to take you to the kitchen with its great wide chimney, the large open fire place, with the sticks of hickory wood piled up and burning on the strong and heavy andirons, also the long iron crane swinging over the fire with the many pots hanging from it. Old Rachel, the colored cook is queen of this kitchen. She is so good natured, has always a spotless white apron and a fiery red turban around her head. You should see her take out the great loaves of bread, the different pies and cakes from the big oven with the long handled wooden shovel, and to taste her cookies. I know you would like them, but some other time we may do all this.
I wonder if you will be interested in what I am now going to show you, for it is my little house which I built with my own hands when but a little fellow of thirteen in the year 1836. Let us walk through the wood shed and down the wood lane a short distance. Do you notice the great quantity of fire wood piled up on either side of the walk? That wood is for next winter`s burning, for you must remember we had no coal at that time in this country. In the city some few used a soft coal called Liverpool coal which was brought from England. There stands my little house stuck away in this out of the way corner all by itself. I feel very proud of it as I built it all myself. It is six feet by eight feet and two stories high. The first story was five feet high and the second four feet. As I was not very tall myself, I did not require much height. On the first floor my window is a single pane of glass, and on the second another pane, even smaller, since this was all I could get. Entrance to the second floor was by a very narrow ladder. The chimney I built with small flat stones and broken brick, using clay for mortar. The small fireplace I built of the same rough materials, which was the best I could get and worked very hard to find them. The roof is coarse grass which I cut myself and applied. The front door, and in fact the only door I fashioned from an old window shutter cut down to proper size which I hung on leather hinges. On the inside I fastened the door with a wooden bolt with strap outside. I also made a small wooden table and two low benches and put a small shelf on the wall. My mother gave me a piece of old carpet to cover the floor and a cotton cloth to cover the table. My sister put up curtains of the proper size. I gathered scraps of writing paper, a lead pencil, an old slate and slate pencil to ornament my table. On the shelf was a black bottle for water and a broken tumbler. This with a few apples constituted my larder and my furniture. I would make a fire in the fire place, keeping the door open to let out the smoke. Then I would sit by my table on a very hard and uncomfortable bench, looking out the door and fancy I was Robinson Crusoe on an uninhabited island, waiting for my man Friday, who was my younger brother John. [John Wright Leggett, (1826-1897)] My brother John much preferred to set up a wigwam and play Indian. He was a terrible fellow for taking scalps. He would take hold of my hair and pull until I thought my hair and scalp both would come off.
Suppose we now return to the house, turning off by the fish pond into this lawn on your right and have a look at an old well over at my Grandfather`s. This lane is strictly a private one, leading from my father`s [William Haight Leggett, (1789-1863)] house to that of my grandfather [Thomas Leggett, (1755-1843)]. It is known as Lafayette Lane, because in the year 1779 General Lafayette and his staff rode through this lane on his way to White Plains to have a consultation with General Washington on the situation of the war. It is a charming walk through this winding green lane being so wild and romantic. Just at the foot of this hill to which we are coming, you will see a lovely little stream in which there are a few large, rough stones serving as a bridge. Now come over this way and stand on this flat stone and watch the water, how silently and smoothly it runs along under the stone bridge. What a quiet and secluded place it is with these great trees towering up all about. Never mind how hot the sun may shine, we never feel it here. It is always cool and delightful. We call it "Kissing Bridge", and every young man expects a kiss from the young lady who goes over this bridge with him. It is a rough, tumble-down affair, made many years ago of these rough stones, but it is one of our favorite walks and resting places. We come down here with our sister and her young friends, sit on the stones and talk while watching the little fish swim about. We gather wild flowers which the girls make into wreaths to put on their heads and around their hats. Just a little way back from the bridge in the woods there is a beautiful, large pond of water with some of the largest grape vines running up the old trees and the prettiest yellow pond lillies you ever saw. But we must not linger too long, so get over this stone wall and we will follow the foot path in the walk over to Grandfather`s.
Here we are on the high ground overlooking his house. Don`t you think it looks large and comfortable, and notice the fine view of the river from where we are standing. Come, walk down these steps and look at the old well. Grandfather says his father had it dug long before the Revolutionary War of 1776. You see it is but a little way off from the kitchen door. This well is covered by a large flat stone having a round hole in the center. On this flat stone over the hole rests a heavy and solidly made wooden box, open at the top and with a long spout at one side. This is called the well curb. To be able to draw up the water they use a well sweep. This is a long slender tree some thirty feet long of more, cut in the woods and nicely balanced on a forked post firmly set in the ground a short distance from the well. To the shorter end of this sweep is fastened a chain, and to the chain a strong, iron-bound bucket. To the longer and heavier end of the sweep is fastened a stone and so adjusted as to be slightly greater in weight than the bucket end when filled with water. By lowering the bucket end of the sweep into the well, the bucket fills with water and can be raised with little or no effort. The stones inside the well are covered with beautiful green moss as far down as you can see. At a certain time of day, when the sun is shining brightly, I can look down the well and see my own face reflected from the water, so I call it my looking-glass. That long trough by the side of the well is for horses and cattle to drink out of. It is dug out of the trunk of a large tree. You can see that too is very old from its cracked appearance. Many a time I have watched the men pull bucket after bucket of water to fill this trough, and a tiresome, slow job it was, but it is the only way to get water from this type well.
We will just take a peep at the out buildings and then start for home. You see they are quite formidable and built around three sides of a hollow square. The square is the barn yard and a fine large one it is. From a little distance, these buildings might be taken for an old fortification. I would like to take you through these many out buildings, but the length of this letter will not allow it. I will just say that I have hunted many times through these buildings for hens` eggs and found lots of them, and had such good times in doing so. Grandfather always had a lot of chickens, turkeys, geese, ducks, guinea fowl, pigeons, cows, calves, oxen, horses, colts, sheep, lambs, pigs and I don`t know what else.
I have again written a very long letter, but before I close it, I must show you one of the prettiest bubbling, running springs you ever saw. Walk a little way down this steep hill and we will get under the shelving rock you see just ahead of us. Now look up. What do you say to that? Don`t you think the picture well worth looking at? How naturally the rock arches over, and out of its very center gushes this little stream of perfectly pure ice-cold water. See how noiselessly it runs out of the rock and how steadily it falls on the moss below. It has been running in this manner from time immemorial. Grandfather says it was running in this same quiet way when he was a boy and has been tumbling on that same moss covered stone for all these number of years until it has worn a hole which is now so smooth and round like a wash basin. The theory of this hole in the stone is that in ages past there was smaller stone resting on top of the larger stone. This smaller stone was caught in the stream of water and set into a revolving motion which slowly over a long period of time ground out this beautiful round hole. Now step back a few paces and notice the effect of the reflection of the sun on the bright sparkling stones in the rock, with shadows creeping over the green moss and glistening on the drops of water, making just a perfect little picture of a grotto. This spring was a great feature in my boyhood days, for it was just as nature made it. Nothing had been done to improve or beautify it and anyone who came to the house would always go to the spring for a drink of ice cold water. Grandfather would say it was worth a walk of a good mile to have a drink from this old spring. Many is the time I have watched that little spout of water roll so gently out of the hole in the rock and then fall so quietly on the same place on the stone below, trickle over the sides of the round basin and run down the steep hill to the river below. Although I have not seen this spring for fifty years, I do not doubt that it is still there, but the surroundings are in all probability much changed and I might have difficulty in locating the place.
As I said in the beginning of my letter, this will be the last one I shall be able to write you this season, and, for all I know, you may be heartily glad of it.
I am
your Grandfather,
Thomas B. Leggett.
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