My Genealogy Hound

REV. PULASKI E. SMITH, one of the old and esteemed citizens of Seneca County, was born in the town of Tyre, near his present place of residence, August 8, 1829. He is the son of Jason and Sarah (Wells) Smith, the former of whom was born in Bristol, Addison County, Vt., October 7, 1795. He lived a long and useful life, passing away August 21, 1883. Mrs. Sarah Smith was a native of New Hampshire, whence she came to this state with her parents, as did also her husband. The Wells family lived in Seneca County for a time, after which they moved to the western part of the state, where Jason and Sarah were married.

The parents of our subject made their home on the farm which the grandfather, Asa Smith, had purchased from Caleb Woodworth in 1802. The grandparents reared their sons to farm life, and Jason always followed agriculture. The latter was at one time a strong Democrat, voting for James K. Polk in 1844, but that year he changed his political views, and until 1856 was a Free Soiler. In the latter year he was sent as a delegate to the convention which met at Syracuse, where the Whigs and Free-Soilers united to form the Republican party. He was prominently before the public in various official positions, and from the time he was twenty-one years old until his death frequently held the position of Justice of the Peace. He was also Supervisor for many years, and in the county he was Justice of Sessions. To him was given the honor of naming the town of Tyre. He was a thorough Christian gentleman, and from the age of thirty years was connected with the Baptist Church, in which he was Trustee for many years. During the War of 1812 he served as a volunteer for six months, enlisting in 1814. He fought in the battle of Ft. Erie, Lundy’s Lane, Chippewa and other well known engagements, and after peace was established obtained a soldier’s land-warrant, locating in Michigan until he could dispose of his property.

The subject of this sketch grew to manhood on his father’s farm, attending school winters and aiding in the farm work during the summer months. After reaching his fifteenth year he determined to qualify himself for a teacher, and, applying himself very closely to his studies, three years later was placed in charge of a school. He taught continuously until twenty-two years old, when he entered the academy at Seneca Falls, attending during the summer months for three years, and teaching the rest of the year. He thus prepared himself for college, and in the fall of 1854 entered Rochester University, completing the course and graduating with the Class of ‘59.

Mr. Smith was then called upon to take charge of the Pulaski Academy in Oswego County, and for three years held the position of Principal. He had been converted when eighteen years of age and united with the Baptist Church of Magee Corners, in this county. While Principal of the Pulaski Academy he was licensed by this church to preach and thus he began his career as a minister of the Gospel. After supplying a church at Sandy Creek, Oswego County, for a year, he was called to accept the pastorate of the church at Magee Corners.

Mr. Smith was married August 2, 1861, while at Pulaski, to Miss Frances A. Gould, who was born at Sterling, Cayuga County, N. Y. She was a finely educated lady and was at that time preceptress of Macedon Academy. He had become acquainted with this lady while teaching in the Red Creek Academy, where she was a pupil. Mrs. Smith was the daughter of David and Eveline (Austin) Gould, the former of whom was a prominent resident of Cayuga County, representing his district in the Assembly in 1844.

When our subject entered upon his duties as pastor of the church at Magee Corners, he located upon his farm of fifty acres, which he had purchased from his father. He was ordained in 1864, and has been pastor of that congregration continuously since. Other congregations have urged him to preach to them, and although they offered a large increase in salary, he always refused to leave, one reason being that he was desirous of rearing his children on a farm. He became interested with a brother in the purchase of more land, but on the failure of the latter in business, he was left to pay off the debt, and also to take his brother’s share of the property. His possessions now aggregate one hundred and seventy acres, all of which is finely improved and forms one of the best farms in the county.

The eldest child of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Frances, died when three years of age. Mary Alice, who was born in the town of Tyre, September 4, 1869, was graduated from the high school at Seneca Falls in 1887, and the following year completed her studies at Cook Academy in Schuyler County, this state. She then entered Vassar College, and finished with the Class of ‘92. Afterward she took a teacher’s course at the normal college of Albany, and is now teaching in the English department in Cook Academy. Edward Payson Smith, who was born in the town of Tyre, August 30, 1873, was graduated from the high school at Seneca Falls in 1890, and from Cook Academy the following year. Later he became a student in the University of Rochester, and completed his studies in that institution in 1895. While in the latter city he was for a time reporter on the Democrat and Chronicle. He is now Assistant Principal of the High School in Mexico, Oswego County. Both children became identified with the church in their youth. In politics Rev. Mr. Smith is a Republican.

The great-grandfather of our subject, Joshua Smith, died in Sandisfield, Mass., July 10, 1771. His wife, who previous to her marriage was Mary Snow, was descended in a direct line from passengers of the “Mayflower.” Both of the great-grandparents were of English descent, and came from the Puritan stock of New England. Their son, Asa Smith, served three years in the Revolutionary War. At the close of that conflict, and while a single man, he emigrated to Vermont, then known as the New Hampshire Grants. The first purchase of land which he made was on Grand Isle, on what was called Southboro, in Rutland County, Vt., and his deed, which bore the date of November 14, 1783, was executed by Samuel Allen, brother of Ethan Allen, of Revolutionary fame.

Our subject’s grandmother, Margaret Traver, was of German origin, and was born in Albany County, N. Y., September 9, 1765. Her father, Nicholas Traver, was born in Germany. Asa Smith and Margaret Traver were married February 13, 1788, in the village of Vergennes, Vt., theirs being the first marriage that was solemnized in that place. The grandfather worked as a carpenter in the foundry of the village, but soon after his marriage sold out his possessions on Grand Isle and purchased twenty acres within three-fourths of a mile of the above village, where he made his home until March, 1791, when he moved to Bristol Hollow, in which vicinity he had purchased a farm. In 1802 Grandfather Smith sold his farm in the Hollow, and with a yoke of oxen and cart set out alone for the untried wilderness of the western part of New York. After arriving there he cleared three acres, sowed it in wheat, built a log house, and then returned to Vermont for his family. In the spring of 1803 the little band started for their new home in western New York, in what is now the town of Tyre, Seneca County. After a tedious journey of more than a month, and under many difficulties, they reached their destination and thought their troubles were over. But in this they were mistaken, for they found themselves in an almost unbroken wilderness, filled with fierce savages and prowling beasts of prey.

Our subject’s father, Jason Smith, was married Sarah Wells, October 21, 1824. Under Jackson’s administration he was appointed Postmaster of Tyre, which position he held for sixteen years. He was again appointed to fill this office under Grant’s administration, and was the incumbent of the same for about one term, from January, 1874, to April, 1877, when he resigned. November 27, 1829, his first wife died, and July 1, 1834, he was married to Miss Amanda Lemmon, of Varick. In 1869 Jason Smith made a trip to Europe, spending about three months abroad. During his life he spent a great deal of time in writing for his own amusement, mainly personal reminiscences. He also showed quite a poetical tendency, and composed the verses written on the death of Ezekiel Crane, and execution of Indian John, which we give below:

POETRY ON THE DEATH OF EZEKIEL CRANE, AND EXECUTION OF INDIAN JOHN.

COMPOSED BY JASON SMITH,

And sung by him at a concourse of young persons convened at a house near the spot where the tragic scene was enacted, June, 1818.

PART I.
Sweet poetry, my bosom fire,
My mental and my muse inspire;
Wisdom, assist and be my guide —
Direct my thoughts, stand by my side,
Now, while I act the poet’s part,
In melting strains to win the heart.
Candor and truth shall grace my verse;
What I have seen I will rehearse;
Though young and in my tender years —
From others learned, the truth appears.

The town of Junius (now Tyre) did appear
But recently a forest drear —
A white man’s cot but here and there —
Hither the red men did repair.
Those fertile fields which now expand,
Were then a tract of forest land;
The nimble deer did range them o’er.
And savage footsteps print each shore;
The shaggy bear did oft appear.
The wolf’s dire howlings met the ear.

When winter spread her mantle white
To crown the hunter’s dear delight.
An Indian and a white man came —
George Phadoc was the white man’s name —
Combined to hunt, a station took
Near to a mill-stream, called Black Brook;
A cabin built upon the shore —
In quest of game the wilds explore;
But mark the sequel, hear me tell
The horrid deed which soon befel.

The Indian thus his thoughts expressed:
“A great big bunch came in my breast.
And rising, got into my head —
Then me would kill all white men dead.”
His comrade first provoked his hate,
And therefore must expect his fate.
Vindictive wrath his bosom swells,
Rouse all his hell — for in him hell
A sullen savage silence reigns —
A thirst for blood thrills in his veins.

In 1803, we hear—
December 12 the day and year —
His ire like thunder-clap must burst
Upon the one who should come first.
His comrade, coming to the door
With venison killed the day before,
Now put in force his hellish plot,
And through the door haphazard shot;
The whistling ball the venison hit,
And grazed his coat, near his arm-pit.

Now seized with a dreadful fright.
And all his safety was in flight —
The venison from his shoulder threw —
His rifle seized — away he flew;
From this dread monster let me fly —
Why should a valiant huntsman die?
And dashing through the icy brook —
Nor did he take one backward look —
O’er hills and dales and forest ground,
Until my father’s house he found.

A frightful figure now presents —
By fear almost bereft of sense —
The color from his visage fled,
Alternate flushed with hues of red.
And for a while did silent stand.
With rifle in his dextrous hand;
Reason resumes a settled state —
The story and the facts relate;
A station took, and there he staid.
Fearing the Indian’s ambuscade.

PART II.
Ye curious-minded, now give ear,
The substance you shall quickly hear;
Two neighbors went to view some land-
Fearing no harm from savage hand.
The victim to the cabin came —
Our friend — Ezekiel Crane by name;
The first salute — an awful sound,
Our friend received a mortal wound;
The fatal lead his vitals pierced —
Now, savage, thou hast done thy worst.

The savage firing through the door,
In the same way he did before —
Yet more effectual was the shot,
Directed closer to the spot.
The ball his side did penetrate;
Ye man, thou must submit to fate! —
A soldier’s fortitude sustained,
Though streaming blood each artery drained;
He stood the shock, and ne’er did fall.
And in his shoulder lodged the ball.

Now from the door his steps did bend.
And was assisted by his friend,
‘Till strength relapsed, and fainting grew —
His friend for help away he flew;
Fear braced his nerves and gave him strength
To run a half a mile in length.
And stemming through the rapid brook.
He took the course that Phadoc took;
The route, by chance, direct did trace.
And soon arrived at the same place.

A bleeding statue, crimsoned o’er,
Presents himself now at the door.
With faltering voice — “Fear not,” he said.
And soon was laid upon the bed.
The alarm being spread, his friends then come,
And soon conveyed him to his home.
When coming there, he did reply,
“Carry me in here. I must die!”
Repeating then these words, he said,
“O, lay me down; here’s my death-bed.”

A surgeon’s aid was needful thought —
Two surgeons now were quickly brought.
Who, by examination, found
He had received his mortal wound.
The surgeons ply their skill in vain —
Cannot alleviate his pain;
His time is come, and he must go.
Though by a cruel savage foe;
Yet not a word by him was spoke.
Like envy for the dreadful stroke.

Five days he lived in pain severe —
His dissolution now draws near;
The glooms of death his visage spread.
And now he mingles with the dead.
A widow and five children left.
Of husband and father bereft;
Ye tender offspring, drop a tear —
Lifeless and cold your father dear.
Now brought to an untimely death,
By the tawny son of the wilderness.

The funeral rites and duties pay.
The body to the grave convey.
To waste and moulder in the dust.
From which we all were formed at first.
Relentless death, who ruins all;
The fruits of sin, of Adam’s fall,
The spirit at this day doth reign
Which once prevailed with ancient Cain;
And arms one man against another,
Like wicked Cain, who slew his brother.

PART III.
One channel I have traced through —
Back to the point my course renew;
You soon shall hear the murd’rer’s fate,
The facts attending now relate:
The tidings, aggravated, spread, —
Each timid heart is filled with dread.
The women shrink, the children cry —
Some of them hide, while others fly;
With fear each heart doth palpitate —
Fear fills each breast, for fear is great.

The hardy peasantry do throng
Quick to avenge their neighbor’s wrong;
Like true Columbians ready press
To bear down vice and seek redress.
At Phadoc’s place of late retreat
They rendezvous, and thronging meet;
Each art is tried, and plans are laid,
The hostile camp for to invade;
Conducted well and auspicious
An enterprise so hazardous.

Ye of the Senecas, all hail!
Suppress the vice which doth prevail;
In friendship true and love sincere,
The white men and their laws revere.
Three Indians, friendly to our cause.
In vindication of our laws —
Though closely bound by nature’s ties
To this vile wretch, it don’t suffice:
Kindly they do assistance lend.
And style themselves the white man’s friend.

Beneath the gloom of twilight shade,
An onset now with speed is made;
The assassin in his cell surround.
Which late had spread such terror round.
Now at his door the whites defy —
“More shoot, more shoot,” is all his cry —
The war-whoop raise, the war-song sing,
Which made those echoing valleys ring;
The assailants brave, though to their heart.
The life-blood thrills with sudden start.

His tawny brethren loudly sung.
In Indian style and Indian tongue.
That he might think no white men near.
And thus divert him of his fear.
Up to the cabin door they walked.
And to the assassin friendly talked:
“A league with you we make,” say they—
“All white men we will quickly slay.”
Deceive him thus, and thus beguile,
‘Til quite deluded by their wile.

By chance or fraud secure his arms —
Then to the white men gave the alarm;
Just at the word they all rushed in —
A furious fray doth now begin —
Most furious grew, when brought to see
He was betrayed by treachery.
Just like a demon incarnate,
Destruction, death and sudden fate;
They seize and bare him to the ground,
And fast with thongs his hands are bound.

Now well secured, the Indian said:
“You ugly man, you must be dead.
You much bad Indian, we do hear
You ran away when you came here.
Much long ago you kill your squaw —
Your hand be like a panther’s paw;
Nay, badder still are you than they —
They only catch and kill their prey;
But you kill Indian — white men, too —
We glad the white men have got you.”

A prisoner bound, he’s borne away:
Stubborn, he swears to disobey;
Nefarious hate doth fill his breast.
As of the Ionian god possessed.
All entering in at the same door,
The scared, the hurt, the murderer —
His countenance, so gruff and wild,
Strides terror to the timid child.
His eyes flash fury, enmity,
When he his fellow-huntsmen see.

These forest hunters frowning meet,
The white starts back, the savage greet;
The affrighted Phadoc stood aghast.
And in this way some moments passed;
Until, at length, his silence broke—
Thus from his quivering lips he spoke:
“Was your base envy aimed,” said he,
“And was your malice bent on me?”
“To kill you first,” he did reply,
“Then all the rest that came must die.”

Conveyed away to Aurora far,
To be arraigned at the bar —
To hunt the forest deer no more.
His crime to try, to court bound o’er.
The court and jury doth him try —
Guilty, he’s found — condemned to die.
Gravely the judge the sentence said —
“You must be hanged until you are dead;
Your body then must be dissected.
Like one forlorn, despised, rejected.”

In close confinement he must stay.
Until arrives the fatal day,
When pious priests did him attend,
for to remind him of his end.
The answer that he gave was this:
“I shall ascend to realms of bliss;
But first I must descend to hell-
To the dark regions, there to dwell
Till all my guilt is purged away-
Then up to heaven ascend straightway.”

At length arrives the awful morn:
Bring forth the prisoner all forlorn;
The last sad sun his radiance shed
Upon the guilty vagrant’s head.
Upon the cart he’s borne away—
Thousands of people throng the way;
With savage firmness braves the stroke —
The god of battle doth invoke;
His death song sings with cheerful glee—
“Me scare away Chepi,” said he.

They reach at length the fatal spot;
With busy hands they knit the knot.
The cart moves on — from thence he’s hurled.
And launched into the unknown world.
No parting streams, nor fish, nor bird.
No songs, nor mirthful shouts are heard;
Nor deer, nor bear, nor foxes roam —
A dreary waste his final home.*
There he must lead another life,
Without a battle-axe or knife.

* The Indians’ idea of the place where bad Indians go.