gree or other to-day. Of the original family there were three girlsIrene, Sylvia, and Eveline; and of the boys, besides Joshua, there were Richard, Samuel, and Amos. None of this lineage are now living, save Samuel the grandson, and such issue as he may have. Mott Johnson was from New Jersey, and had been a slave. He died Sept. 22, 1850, at the age of 76 years, 4 months and 8 days, and was buired in Dedham. Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. George Freeman (the elder) were sisters, and their maiden name was Coffey.

Joseph Robbins was from New Jersey, but I am told was never a slave. His wife came from Miltor. He maintained a little place of his own, and was quite a character in his neighborhood. He had many good qualities for a man of his experiences, and I wish to speak of him with the greatest respect, although it may be necessary, in order to picture him as he really was, to allude to several matters that had more or less of a ludicrous aspect. He was a great stickler for etiquette, and was not over and above communicative; but when politely approached, and ceremoniously addressed as "Mr. Robbins,' would generally find something to say. As a term of extra endearment, and possibly too in compliment to the evening star, he called his wife "Venus." He was an occasional performer on the violin after business hours, and with the coming of Saturday night would take his instrument to the village, where he received the attention due to a noted if not a great player. In a spirit of mild criticism it may be said that a little of his music went a good ways with the average listener. But after all, there was a dash and abandon to his style that, like the glittering eye of the Ancient Mariner, held the enforced attention of all who came near, and he also enjoyed a certain prestige as being the first, or one of the first, to introduce the plantation melody, pure and simple, to the home of his adoption. He had his ups and downs (as most men have), and one night in a grocery store, as he drew his lean and well-worn wallet to pay what was due, he observed with a long drawn-sigh in reply to some remark about hard times: "Yes, Massa Richards, it takes about all the time to live”— which was only another way of saying that times were indeed hard with him and that cash was running correspondingly low in the Robbins exchequer.

Once when a circus company was passing his house, he expressed the extremest solicitude lest his own ill-groomed and sorry-looking Rozinante, then grazing by the roadside, should stray into the ranks of the richly-caparisoned cavalcade, and, losing its identity among so many beautiful Arabian chargers, should never come back to its master's crib. The old man's distress was keen at this prospective elopement, nor could he be made to see the striking incongruity of conditions that of itself would eventually return the beast to the Robbins paddock. Return indeed the faithful horse did in due time, but there was no more real pathos in Tam O'Shanter's undying affection for his gray mare Meg than in our sable friend's anxiety for

his well-beloved helper at plough and cart. The comical side of this incident afforded some amusement at the time to the young people at Lively Corner and thereabouts.

There were six children in the Robbins family-John, James, Seth, Hannah, Sally and Lydia; but all of that generation are now dead.— Lydia was in the service of the Quincy family for more than a quarter of a century. She was a most exemplary person. Three grandchildren are now living-one in Dedham and two in Bristol, R. I. Joseph Robbins died about 1847, and is supposed to have lived nearly or quite 80 years. He came to Dedham in early life, and was

buried here.

Seth Robbins, son of Joseph, is well remembered as a person of eminent gravity and ceremonious politeness, whose Attleboro jewelry was always displayed to the best advantage, and whose street attire. was scrupulously neat, although a burlesque upon the fashions at the time prevailing. He was a born diplomatist in the sense that his ways were marked by indirection, and an air of mystery attended him to the extent that no man could read his real character or fathom his motives.

Rev.

Cæsar Nichols was a man of an altogether different type. Dr. Ebenezer Burgess was his biographer, and seems to have recognized a friend and brother in his esteemed townsman, as most assuredly Cæsar had found a benefactor and kindly gentleman in his pastor. I have a mutilated copy of the funeral discourse resulting from this friendship, and I do not hesitate to say that, considering the differing environments of the two men, it is, or was, for the proslavery times in which it was written, a remarkable pulpit utterance. Throwing away all reserve, and apparently impatient of all restraint. in his determination to do justice to the memory of a parishioner, the preacher stopped at nothing short of glowing eulogy. Dr. Burgess left behind him many monuments of ripe scholarship, many witnesses to the old-school courtesy that he carried so becomingly through a long career, and many evidences of a good heart, but I doubt if anything he ever did will redound more to his credit in this world or any other world than what he said in praise and appreciation of a man who was always poor and unlettered and once a slave. In this connection, and in the shadow of such worshipful company, I cannot help recalling the words of John Albion Andrew-words that will never die. Said the great war governor of Massachusetts:-"I know not what record of sin awaits me in another world. I cannot tell. But this I do know, that I never despised a man because he was poor, because he was ignorant or because he was black."

A few sentences of Dr. Burgess' tribute are here given, and I would gladly furnish more, did the limits of my space permit. He said:

The prominent features of his character were his sacred regard for truth, habitual industry, cheerful contentment, and those more sublime virtues-faith, hope and christain humility as a sinner-and a devout

trust as a believer in Christ. His respectful deportment all will acknowledge. He was a polite man. He had a sense of propriety. He was disposed to render to others their due, as to title, rank and honor, whether he received his own or not. Another feature was the happy temper of his mind. He was not always treated well, not always addressed with the tenderness and respect to which he was entitled. But who ever saw him in a rage of passion; or who ever heard him vent his indignant feelings in clamorous or wrathful words? Another feature was gratitude to his benefactors. This was tender and habitual. Many have witnessed the grateful overflowings of his soul, when, with a cheerful smile and with sightless eyeballs raised, he would say: 'God has always given me good friends wherever I have been. I was always treated well.' What, now, must be the overlooking of human imperfections to be able to say and feel this, in a man who was born in servitude, and who lived as a servant most of his life—literally a hewer of wood and drawer of water? That he smoothed his own path along in life by his good conduct and by his perpetual regard to duty, is doubtless true. But there are unreasonable persons in the world, and with such he must often have had to do in life. To his unimpeached integrity there is a testimony rendered byall. Dr. Elisha Thayer has in his possession a certificate given to Cæsar by a man with whom he had lived and labored some years, testifying to his industry, fidelity and strict honesty. We need not doubt that such has been his habitual character, and that these principles were instilled into him by his Dutch masters and mistresses in his childhood. Within a few years he has had several periods of dangerous sickness, in which he expected, and evidently hoped, to obtain his release. And when the hour came, death had no terrors to his mind. Waiting,' he said with a smile, ‘waiting for my release, when the Lord will please to send and call me home.' Who doubts that an honest man sleeps among us? Who has the less confidence in his integrity or respect for his worth because he was a servant and a person of color? May each of us, when we die, have the happiness to be embalmed in the hearts of an equal number, and have a testimony in the consciences of surviving friends as to our godly sincerity, and have similar peace of mind in the prospect of our departure. Who of us will be ashamed to take up the mantle of- [the remainder of this sentence is illegible in my copy of the discourse.]

Cæsar Nichols was born in slavery, at Poughkeepsie, in the State of New York. His parents were probably natives of Africa. It is supposed that he was eighty-three years old at the time of his death. In 1779, while the British held New York city against the Colonists, he became, either by persuasion or force, a servant to Col. Webster, an officer in the royal camp at that place. He was then nineteen years of age. In 1802 he came to Dedham, bringing with him the certificate above mentioned, that attested his honesty, fidelity and industry. "Here he served in different families," says Dr. Burgess, "and here he was twice married, his wives in each case being women of excellent social and domestic habits, lady-like in manners and Christian in character. In the family of the son of his last wife he found a peaceful home, when the loss of sight and the infirmities of age rendered him incapable of labor for the supply of his own wants." His last wife was Nancy Gerrish, and it was her son's wife (better known in Dedham as Mrs. George Harrison) whom Dr. Burgess refers to as giving the old man a quiet home in his last days. He died Jan. 3, 1843, at the age (as before stated) of 83-surviving

his wife about eight years. His death took place at Connecticut Corner, either at a house near Wight's Pond or at a dwelling (since destroyed by fire) fronting the upper Common; I cannot tell which. Authorities do not agree on this point. But in either case it was at the residence of his wife's daughter. He left no children. What I have written thus far of these families is a sketch simply, and not a thorough study of the subject. I have not the time or opportunity to acquire further material. It is mainly from memory that the story has been told; and however far it may fall short of being a complete narrative, I am not without hope that it is just and correct in its general estimate of individual character and peculiarities. With your kind permission, Mr. Editor, I will finish the article in the next number of the Register.

ANTIQUARY.

THE OLD CHESTNUT TREES, DEDHAM.

Castanea Vesca. Linn.

BY GEORGE W. HUMPHREY.

The old chestnuts so familiar to residents of Dedham, and of which we present a pen and ink sketch by Henry Hitchings, are upon the farm owned by Ebenezer Paul, on Spruce street, in the eastern part of the town. At the present time there are but two trees standing, out of a group of five or six, which thirty years ago were apparently in the full vigor of life, and these two are now dead. The largest one measures twenty-two feet and six inches in circumference, at a distance of about four feet from the ground. At five feet a large branch strikes out, and above this the circumference is increased to twenty-four feet, while its companion is fifteen feet in circumference at the same distances from the ground.

The height of the trees is about eighty feet, and they are nearly as broad as they are tall. The age of the larger one, judging by the average yearly growth of the chestnut, may be about two hundred and fifteen years. These trees are first mentioned in a tradition of the Fales family, as nut-bearing, and as a play-place or resort in the boyhood of Samuel Fales, who was born in 1746-7. This shows that even in that day they were large enough to attract attention. They seem to-day fitting representatives of the grand old forests. which existed at the birth of the town, before the woodman's axe first disturbed their solitude.

In 1862, the wood upon the land where these trees stood, was sold at auction, and three or four of the "big chestnuts were cut down, and the wood carried to the soldiers' camp at Readville, and there used as firewood. But one of the old monarchs refused to be