Isaac White, 3d g. Isaac White, 2d g. Wm. White, 1st g.
Children of Isaac White and Sarah Peck:
NOTE. Sarah Peck White died at the home of her daughter, Mrs. Betsey Hollenbeck, in 1836.
Isaac White, oldest son of Isaac and Eleanor White, was born in Esopus, N. Y., in the year 1745, being three years of age when the family removed to Connecticut. He married Sarah Peck of Salisbury, Ct, in 1770. Her mother's name was Tomlinson. They were a prominent family of English origin. Her father was of Dutch descent.
Cornelia, the oldest child of Isaac and Sarah (Peck) White, died in Salisbury, in 1787, at the age of 16.
The "White farm" of Salisbury, Ct., remained in possession of the family until six members of the fifth generation were born there. The log house which had sheltered them on their arrival in Connecticut, had given place to a comfortable frame dwelling, which in turn was ''moved back" to make room for the house that now occupies the original site.
In the fall of 1804, Benjamin White came on horseback from Connecticut to Eaton, Madison Co., N. Y., drawn thither, no doubt, by the alluring reports that had reached him of the fertile farms that were for sale in the valley of the Chenango river. He found a beautiful valley, sheltered on every side by towering hills, which at that time were densely covered with magnificent maple, beach, elm, and hemlock trees, and watered by never failing streams of the purest and coldest water.
Before he returned to Connecticut he bought a farm of 100 or more acres, lying about two miles north of the village of Eaton, or Log City, as the hamlet of half a dozen houses was then designated. Isaac White, who held the title to the old home in Connecticut, sold the farm there, consisting of 74 acres, to Nathaniel Church, for the consideration of $1,663.34. In March, 1805, the family bade good-bye to their kindred and friends and started on the long, wearisome journey. Isaac White's daughters, Abigal and Elizabeth, were married and remained in Connecticut ; their sister Sarah also remained with them for a year, when she came to Eaton with a family by the name of Mills. Those who came were Isaac White, with his wife and daughter Cornelia; Benjamin White, with his wife and five children, ten souls in all. The two sleighs were well filled, as they brought their household goods for the plenishing of the new home when it should be reached.
On the evening of the second day of their journey, as they arrived at Albany, they found the Hudson river almost impassible, the melting snow having covered the ice to the depth of two feet. But there was no other way to reach the opposite side but to drive through the water. So Benjamin White drove carefully down the bank, the well trained team slowly wading along. His daughter, Julia, at that time not quite four years of age, told me many years afterward of her intense fear that they would all be drowned, of her mother's pale face, as she held the baby, Caroline, in her lap, but of her perfect faith in her father's ability to get them all safely out of any danger. So she watched him as he stood in the front of the sleigh, not a word being spoken by any of them until they were safely landed. Her grandfather came behind them, driving his faithful old team, Yunk and Greytail. They went to a tavern for the night, ate their supper in the big kitchen that was presided over by a very sable goddess, who smiled on the little ones in an alarming manner, displaying such a row of very white teeth as they had never before seen, and when she offered them each a cooky from the pan-full she had just taken from the huge oven, Julia shook her head most emphatically. She wasn't anxious for a cooky made by hands of such doubtful color, but as the little sister ate one and still survived, she almost wished she had taken one too. It was their first sight of a "colored individual," and they were not sure what she might do to them.
At length, after five tiresome days were passed (the time now occupied by a trip to California), the journey was accomplished; the log house that was destined to be their home for three years was reached. It was small and uninviting, but soon a fire was burning in the fire-place, the beds were set up, and a warm supper was prepared and eaten in the new home. The farm is now owned by Ernest Potter, a grandson of Benjamin White. A horse-barn is built on the site of the log house. During the summer of 1805 the barn was built, which is still in good condition. The next year the orchard was set out, Eliza relating that on her eleventh birthday, Nov. 11, 1806, she held the trees while her father pressed the earth around the roots. The trees were grown from seeds which they had brought from their former home. Many of them yet remain and still bear fruit. The brook that comes from the spring above the orchard, was then the unfailing source of supply for all the water needful for so large a family, but now that the trees that once shaded it are takes away, the spring itself is nearly dry in summer. It is to be regretted that these changes take place in our beautiful streams, but all things yield to the march of time. The "big rock" remains unchanged in the meadow back of the barn, where the little girls played "keep house" and set out their tables with treasures of broken crockery, ninety years ago.
The event of the next year was the birth of a son, another Isaac, and the days and months went by as the days and months go by at the present time, freighted with cares and trials, joys and disappointments. In the fall of 1807 Benjamin White and his wife went to Connecticut for a visit, taking with them the York State boy, then a sturdy little fellow almost two years old. Compare the difference in the mode of travel at that time and at the present. Did they ride in a comfortable carriage to the railroad station less than two miles from their home, and in thirty minutes traverse the nineteen miles to Oneida, where they boarded a palace car - that in all its arrangements is a palace indeed - and annihilate time and space as they sped on without weariness? Did they partake of the best of food provided for man and served by obsequious waiters? Did they draw the drapery of their couch about them and lie down at night to pleasant dreams, while the miles slipped away into the darkness behind them? And the next morning after leaving home, when they had reached their destination, did they send back to those at home, by the invisible spirits of the air, a message that all is well? Could the wildest flight of the imagination then picture the reality of the present. No; their mode of conveyance was the usual one of that time. Two horses, saddled and bridled, were led up to, perhaps, a convenient stump, and after the necessary baggage was firmly strapped on, they "mounted their steeds and rode away." For a few hours the boy was delighted with his ride, but at last, becoming tired and sleepy, he began to clamor to "go home" in a voice that awoke the echoes. At last, his poor mother's patience becoming exhausted, she placed him on the ground and both father and mother rode on, expecting he would gladly be taken up again. But no, indeed; he ran a quarter of a mile as fast as his baby feet would carry him, so his father was obliged to go back after him. Yet the visit was made and the return home accomplished without accident.
During the following winter, plans for a new house were perfected and timber cut and drawn, and the next summer, 1808, a commodious house was built, the architecture being in the prevailing style of that day. The front door opened into an entry, with doors to the right and left leading into square rooms. The one on the south side of the house had an outside door in the south end and also one opening into the "buttery." These were for the convenience of Isaac White and his wife, who occupied this room; but these doors have been closed up for nearly fifty years. An immense kitchen is at the back, with fireplace and brick oven. A bedroom just eight feet square, which was thought large enough to sleep in, is on the north side of the kitchen. The house remains much as it was when built, nearly ninety years ago. The family moved from across the road into the new house in August, in time to welcome another daughter, Sarah, who was born to them in September. Three years afterward the youngest daughter, Mary, came. Soon after her birth war was declared between this nation and Great Britain. Benjamin White enlisted as a musician and was stationed at Sackett's Harbor for some time, but owing to his failing health he returned home in a few months.
In the year 1813 a terrible epidemic of malarial type prevailed in many parts of the newly settled locality. Several of the family were victims of the disease. Welthia had been dangerously sick but had so far recovered as to be able to sit by the bedside of her brother, Ward, while their mother, who had been caring for him through the day, was sleeping in another part of the house. The boy had been given up to die. Dr. Pratt had told the family that day that he could not live over twenty-four hours. Water, water, water, the parched lips feebly murmured; but as it had been strictly enjoined that no water must be allowed a patient, no one had dared to give him but a teaspoonful at a time. But the sister, remembering how she had suffered from the burning thirst, and that Ward could not live, for the doctor had said so, resolved that he should have what he craved. She went quietly in the twilight to the spring and brought a pitcher full of the clear, cold water and gave him all he wanted to drink. He soon sank to sleep, and in the morning when Dr. Pratt came he pronounced his patient decidedly better, and no doubt thought his recovery was owing to his medical skill.
The years that followed brought many trials, sorrows and discouragements. The seasons were unfavorable for farming. The summer of 1816 came, cold and dry. On the sixth of June snow fell nearly all the forenoon and at night the ground froze. No corn was raised that year and but little hay. 1817 was very cold but wet, so that there was a plentiful crop of hay, yet no corn and but little grain. Yet above all the anxieties of the past was the undeniable realization that the health of Benjamin White was slowly but surely failing. During the winters of 1816 and 1817 he was unable to leave the house, where, March 30, 1817, he died, at the early age of 43 years. His remains lie in the burying ground at Eaton Center, less than a mile from the home where he had come only twelve years before expecting to spend many years with his parents, wife and children.
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Isaac White served as a scout for the continental army in the revolutionary war. The following account will show that he was considerable of a strategist : It was in one of the Indian wars that he had a hair-breadth escape. He was caught unarmed, and discovered an Indian approaching him with uplifted tomahawk. He jumped and ran, but, glancing back over his shoulder, he saw the red-skin in the act of throwing the hatchet and succeeded in dodging it, packing it up as he ran. The Indian gained on him rapidly, however, although the way was up a steep hill, and before he was aware of it had grasped his vest collar. Quick as thought Isaac threw back his arms and the jerk the Indian gave threw him off his feet, as the vest slipped off easily. The few seconds the Indian spent in recovering himself and picking up the fallen tomahawk sufficed to enable Isaac to reach a grove in which was a large fallen tree. Jumping behind this he found a broken limb, and in the nick of time. The Indian was in the act of leaning over to brain his would-be victim, when he was knocked down with a blow of the club and dispatched with his own tomahawk, which had thrice changed possession in this the last chase of his life.
As illustrating one of the methods of exchange during the earliest years of the White family at Eaton, and before their apple trees had begun to bear, Benjamin White's daughter Weltha, then about thirteen years old, took a bag of bread on horseback to the Indian settlement at Stockbridge, a distance of ten miles through the woods, and bartered it for apples, which she brought back in the same manner.
In August, 1818, Isaac White died suddenly of an acute billious attack at the age of 73 years, and his grave was made beside that of his son's. The family, excepting those that had married and found other homes, remained on the farm until 1821, when it was leased, and the family of Benjamin White removed to New Hartford, N. Y., where the girls who were of sufficient age found employment in the cotton mills of that place. The widow of Isaac White had a home with her daughter, Mrs. Betsey Hollenbeck, who had some time previously come from Connecticut and was living on the farm owned by Col. Uriah Leland, situated on the Cherry Valley Turnpike, about one and one-half miles north of Morrisville. Here she was tenderly cared for by her daughter during the remainder of her life. She died in 1839 at the advanced age of 84.
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Copy of the inventory of the personal property of Isaac White, of Eaton, deceased:
WlNSOR COMAN,
Appraiser -
Eaton Nov. 10th, 1818.
Deed - Isaac White sells his Connecticut land to Nathaniel Church
Genealogy of the White Family by Mrs. Jennett E. Vanderpool. 1899. pp.14-21