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WE thought it was about
time we started for home. We began to want to get back to Michigan, so
we agreed to start. Brother J. S. was to take the "Harlem Railroad," go
to uncle's, stop and visit, get mother and meet us, on a certain day at
Albany. My wife and I took the "Hudson River Railroad" and came as far
as Peekskill. We visited together the place of her nativity, where she
lived until she was twelve years old. She found many very warm friends
there among her relatives. We passed through Peekskill hollow to visit
some of her friends. There I saw some beautiful land. It looked nice
enough for western land, if it had not been for the rugged scenery
around it.
When the day came, that
we were to meet mother at Albany, we took the cars and started. When we
passed Fishkill I knew the place well. I had been there a number of
times before, when I was a boy. Newburg, on the opposite side of the
river, appeared the most natural of any place I had seen. Along the
river it appeared beautiful, and the mountains grand. It was the first
time I had been there since we moved to Michigan. We soon passed
Poughkeepsie, the place where we took the night boat, so many years
before, bound for the territory of Michigan.
As we approached the
Catskill mountains, I should say ten or fifteen miles away, they looked
like a dark cloud stretched across the horizon; and when we came nearer
and nearer the highest one, and it was in plain sight, it appeared
majestic and grand. From the car window, we could see the mountain house
that stood upon its towering summit. We could see small clouds, floating
along by the top of the mountain. That was the greatest mountain I had
ever seen; yet it is small in comparison to some in our own country. Not
one third so high in the world as Fremont's peak, where he unfurled the
banner of our country, threw it to the breeze and it proudly floated in
the wind, higher than it had ever been before. [On his first exploring
expedition to the South Pass of the Rockies in 1842, John C. Frêmont
visited and ascended a mountain of the Wind River Range which he
(mistakenly) supposed to be the highest peak of the Rockies. His
spirited description of the exploit, together with his explorations in
general made him a national hero, with the proud title of "Pathfinder of
the Rockies." Nowlin's comment, written over thirty years later,
illustrates how deeply Fremont's explorations impressed his contemporary
generation.]
We soon got to Albany,
went to a hotel near the railroad depot, called for a room and told the
landlord that we would occupy it until the next morning. As mother could
not rest on the cars, I thought it would be easier for her to stay there
over night, and we would see some of the western part of the state of
New York the next day.
After dinner we locked up
our room and Mrs. Nowlin and I went out to take a look at Albany. We
went up to the state house, the capitol, and visited the room, where the
legislators of the "Empire state" meet to make laws for her people.
There we saw the statue of the extraordinary man, Secretary of State and
statesman, William B. Seward. He, who shortly after, was attacked by an
assassin, where he lay sick upon his bed, in his room at Washington and
was so severely wounded, that the nation despaired of his life for some
time.
We went back to the
hotel, and as the time was nearly up for the Harlem train from New York
City, I went back across the river to meet mother and brother John
Smith. The train shortly came in and they had come. Brother had mother
upon his arm. She was very glad to see me. I got hold of her and she had
two strong arms of her boys to lean upon. I told her we had a room over
in Albany and were keeping house; that we would stop there all night and
start again in the morning. It would make it more easy for her, and we
would not have those jingling, rattling cars passing in the night, to
keep us awake. We crossed over the river and went to our quarters. We
four were all together again and had some new things to tell each other
as we had been apart a few days. We passed the night very comfortably.
Early the next morning a
regiment of soldiers, from the west, came hurrying on to the seat of war
to defend the flag of our Country and the glorious Union. It rained very
hard. I stood one side and noticed the "Boys in Blue" as they came
pouring out of the depot. Their officers did not seem to have them under
very good control. Their discipline wasn't very good yet; after they got
out, there were several of them who seemed to be inclined to go on their
own hooks. The officers had about all they could do to keep them along.
One physically powerful, hardy looking man passed near me. He said, he
thought it was a little hard, early in the morning, after a fellow had
been jammed and bruised all night and it rained that he couldn't be
allowed to stop and take a drop. The officer told him to keep in the
ranks. I felt interested to know if they were Michigan men, but was not
able to learn where they were from.
In a few minutes we were
aboard of our train and started again for Michigan. The prospect of
getting home soon elated mother very much. She had lost most of her
attachment for her native place, and it was no comparison, in her mind,
to her Michigan. She said uncle offered to give her a farm, if she would
move back there and spend the remainder of her days by him. But it was
nothing in comparison to Michigan, it was an inducement far too small
for her to consider favorably. We were coming home as fast as steam
could bring us and it was raining all the time. I told mother I thought
we should run out from under the rain clouds before night, but that was
a mistake. It rained all day long and was dark when we got to the
suspension bridge. When we got off the cars, the runners were a great
annoyance to mother. I told her not to pay any attention to them, we
would find a good place. There was a gentleman standing near us, who
heard what I said. He told me that there was a good house, the "New York
Hotel," which stood close by. Said he was not interested for any, but
that that house was a good one. I told mother we would go there and we
started. I was helping mother along and told my wife and brother to
follow us. It was hard work for them to get away from the runners. They
hated very much to give them up, and they were making as much noise over
them as a flock of wild geese. But my wife and brother left them and
followed us. We got to the "New York House" and called for a room. We
found it to be a very good house. We wanted to stay over night there, as
it would be better for mother and we wished to go up and see the Falls
next day. The next morning after breakfast my wife, brother and I went
up to the Falls. As it was still raining mother stayed in her room; she
didn't wish to go.
We went up on the
American side and vent down three hundred steps of stairs to the foot of
the Falls. After this we viewed Goat Island, went across it to the stone
tower, went up its rickety winding stairs to the top and looked upon the
majestic scenery of nature, which was spread out before us there. I saw
no place there where it appeared so terribly grand to me as it did when
I stood at the foot of the Falls. There we went out on the rocks as far
as we could, and not get too wet with the spray, and viewed the water as
it poured over the cataract and plunged into the abyss below, beat
itself into foam and spray, which settled together again and formed the
angry waves that went rolling and tumbling away to the sea. There I
heard the sound of many waters thundering in their fall and I thought,
while looking at that sublime and wonderful display of nature, that the
waters of the river and creeks of my own "Peninsula State," after
turning hundreds of mills, slaking thirst and giving life to both man
and beast, came there for an outlet. It plunges into Niagara River and
goes gliding away to the ocean; some of it to be picked up by the wind
and rays of the sun and rise in vapor. When formed into clouds in the
atmosphere it is borne back on the wings of the wind, condensed by the
cold air and falls in copious showers of rain upon the earth, to purify
the atmosphere, moisten and fertilize the fields and cause vegetation to
spring forth in its beauty. The rain falling upon the just and the
unjust makes the heart of the husbandman leap for joy, at the prospect
of a bountiful harvest, causes the foliage and the gardens to put on a
more beautiful green, the lilies of the valley and the rose in the
garden ("the transient stars of earth") to unfold themselves more
beautifully. Then the cloud passes away, bearing and sprinkling the
limpid fluid upon other lands, and the sun looks out upon the cool,
healthful, invigorating and refreshing scene. The beautiful rainbow, in
its splendor, seems to span the arch of heaven, placed there as a token
of remembrance, so long before. It lasts but a little while and then
disappears, the cloud also passes away. In this and similar ways the
rivers and creeks are kept supplied with water and the Falls of Niagara
kept continually roaring.
We went back to the "New
York House" and shortly after took the cars for Dearborn. We arrived
there about ten o'clock in the evening. Mother walked home, to the
"Castle," a mile, very spryly. She seemed to feel first rate. She was
pleased to get home. Father and the family had retired for the night
when we got there, but father soon had a light and a fire and was ready
to listen to our stories. We told him how near we had come losing
mother. That uncle had offered to give her a farm if she would come
back, live on it and spend her days by him. We told him what farm it
was; he knew the place as he was well acquainted in that country. We
told him if she went back they could go together and he could carry on
the farm. But the inducement was far too small for them to entertain the
thought of going, for a moment. Michigan was their home, had won their
affections and was their favorite place.
I told father, that he
must go and visit his native place, see how rough it was and I would go
with him. I thought it would appear rougher to him than he expected or
could imagine. He said he would like to go back sometime and see the
country once more. He kept putting it off from year to year. It is said,
It is the thief of time." He never went. He bought him eight acres more
land joining his two places. He paid for it seventy dollars an acre and
had some money left.
Part of the eight acres
was a ridge covered with chestnut trees. Father enjoyed himself there
very much, a few of the last falls of his life, picking up chestnuts. He
was a man a little over six feet tall. He walked straight and erect
until the sickness, which terminated his existence in time, at the age
of seventy-six years, in the year 1869. He went the way of all the
earth. The rest of the family and I, missed him very much. Our counselor
and one of our best friends was gone. He had fought his last battle and
finished his course.
Mother survived him. She
gave each of the children a silver piece (they were all old coins of
different nations and times, each worth a dollar or more) which father
had saved in an early day. They were in mother's work basket in the dark
room at Buffalo, were brought in it, through the fearful storm on Lake
Erie, to Michigan and saved through all of our hard times in the
wilderness. I have my piece yet, as a keepsake, and I think my brother
and sisters have theirs. After father's death, mother still lived at the
"Castle" and my sister Bessie, who took all the care of her in her old
age that was possible, stayed with her. All the rest of the children did
every thing they could for her comfort. She felt lonesome without
father, with whom she had spent nearly fifty years of her life. She
lived a little over three years after he was gone and followed him. She
was seventy-one years old, in 1873, when her voice was hushed in death
and mother too was gone.
We laid her by father's
side in a place selected by himself for that purpose. It is a beautiful
place, about a mile and a half southwest of where they lived and in
plain sight of what was their home. [The Nowlin family cemetery occupies
a small sand ridge near the southwest corner of William Yowlin's farm,
adjoining Van Born Road, the present name of the highway running between
Dearborn and Taylor townships. John Nowlin and Melinda are buried side
by side; he died on Dec. 4, 1869, and she on Jan. 2, 1873. The graves of
William and Adelia Nowlin and several of their children are in a row
immediately west of the graves of John and Melinda. Several other
members of the family, including William's Sisters Abby and Bessie, are
buried close by. In 1886 William Nowlin caused a receiving vault to be
erected, which he fondly hoped would stand forever. It is still
standing, but already is in a sad state of disrepair.]
Long before this there
was a voice of one often heard in prayer in the wilderness, where we
first settled, and that voice was mother's.
Father and mother
believed in one faith and mother from her youth. For years they tried to
walk hand in hand, in the straight and narrow path, looking for and
hastening to a better country than they had been able to find on this
mundane sphere.
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