Upper Level: Ebenezer Small (Jr) 1799-1860 Eunice Harriman 1810-1877

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Ebenezer Small (Jr) 1799-1860 Eunice Harriman 1810-1877

Ebenezer Small (Jr) a.k.a. Eben

Born 22 Oct 1799 Milbridge, Washington, Maine

There are several alternate birth places such as: Cherryfield, Wales, Androscoggin, and Pittston, Maine.
SIGH...at least the state is right.
Parents: Ebenezer Small and Abigail Leighton (Nabby)
Married Eunice Harriman 5 Jan 1827 Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Died 30 Aug 1860 Bucksport, Hancock, Maine (age 60y 10m 8d)
Buried: Hillside Cemetery, Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Sources
Headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=65578334
Marriage: Vital Records of Maine page 122 (Thank you Eileen!)
1830 US Census Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
1850 US Census of Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
1860 US Census Bucksport, Hancock, Maine

Eunice Harriman
Born 15 May 1810 Hampstead, New Hampshire
Parents John Harriman and Avis Grindle
Died 1 Nov 1877 East Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Buried: Hillside Cemetery, Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Sources
Sue Bixby, an archivist of the Harriman Family Association
Eric Erickson (he saw both graves)

CHILDREN

Harriet Lucella Small
Born 1829 Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Married 1) John F Bowden 22 Aug 1849 Orland, Hancock, Maine
Children: John, Fanny, Alfred
2) John Morris Baldwin abt 1868
Children: Hattie, John
Died 2 May 1909 Hollister, San Benito, California
Buried
Sources
Marriage to John Bowden: Maine Marriages
Family Search

*Otis Harriman Small
Born 31 May 1830 East Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Married 1) Dorcas Jane Quimby 17 Jan 1858 East Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Children: William, Annie, Celia, unnamed infant
2) Mary P Norwood 6 Oct 1882 Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Died 22 Apr 1906 East Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Buried: Hillside Cemetery, East Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Sources
Marriage to Dorcas: Copy of Marriage Certificate
Marriage to Mary: IGI Film 0010578 Batch M506412 dated 1864-1885
Family Search

Rufus Harriman Small
Born 14 March 1833 Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Married Temperance L Farnham 3 Jun 1854 Dedham, Hancock, Maine
Children Frederick, Elmer, Lena, unnamed infant
Died 5 Jan 1912 Prunedale, Monterey, California
Buried: Odd Fellows Cemetery, Holister, San Benito, California
OBITUARY (San Jose Mercury News 10 Jan 1912)
HOLISTER Jan. 9 – The funeral of Rufus H. Small who died Friday [5 January 1912] night at his home near Prunedale was held Monday afternoon at the undertaking parlors of Nash & Reiner. Mr. Small was a native of Maine, 79 years of age. For years he had lived at Bitterwater in this county, but the last 12 years with his wife, Mrs. Temperance Small he has made his home at Prunedale, Monterey County. The body was buried in the Odd Fellows Cemetery in this city.
Sources
Family Search
Marriage: Maine Marriages 1771-1907 Film 10835 Batch M520901
News Article and picture of headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=53933441

Nancy E Small
Born 28 Feb 1840 Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Note: it was a leap year
Married James Leonard Gross 2 Nov 1858
Children: Nellie, Howard
Died 23 Mar 1868 (age 28 years 25 days)
Buried: Hillside Cemetery, Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Sources
Family Search
Headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=65293391

Abbie A Small
Born 10 Nov 1847 Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Married Joseph Warren Bowden 24 Mar 1869 Orland, Hancock, Maine
Note: Her name in the record is given as Abba A Small
Children: Elizabeth, Charles, Grace
Died: 17 May 1876 (28 years, 6 months, 7 days)
Buried: Bowden-Heath Cemetery, Penobscot, Hancock, Maine
Sources
Marriage to Joseph: IGI Film 0011726 Batch M503732 dated 1781-1885
Family Search
Headstone: http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=67072823

Luella Small
Born about 1849 Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Never Married
Died about 1860 Bucksport, Hancock, Maine
Buried
Sources
Family Search

2 comments:

BevEricksonFebruary 7, 2011 at 5:15 PM
Their daughter Nancy only had two children. The oldest was Nellie Phebe Gross.
I have been in the Hillside cemetery in Hancock Maine and have seen the headstones for Eben and Eunice.
Eric Erickson
ReplyDelete
Replies
UnknownMarch 22, 2015 at 6:11 PM

Ebenezer Small, a younger brother of Dea. Elisha, m. Nabby Leighton.
Their children were Deborah m. James Colson,
Samuel m. Molly Colson, Thomas m. Deborah Tucker,
Lydia m.James Gross, Nabby m. Samuel Tuttle of Perry,
John married at Lubec and removed to Bucksport,
Eben married a Harriman at Bucksport,
Peggy m. James Cates, Sally m. Timothy Cates, both at Lubec or vicinity,
and Anna m. James Leighton.
Page 5
THE Narraguagus Valley
SOME ACCOUNT OF ITS
EARLY SETTLEMENT AND SETTLERS
BY J. A. MILLIKEN
COVERS TOWNS OF STEUBEN, MILBRIDGE, HARRINGTON AND CHERRYFIELD
Machias, Maine, 1886
reprinted: A. J. HUSTON, Portland, Maine;1910
ReplyDelete
Replies

Add comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

From a Funeral Program

When I come to the end of the road

And the sun has set for me

I want no rites in a gloom-filled room

Why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little - but not for too long

And not with your head bowed low

Remember the love that we once shared

Miss me, but let me go.

For this is a journey that we all must take

And each must go alone

It's all part of the Master's plan

A step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick at heart

Go to the hills we know

And bury your sorrow among the trees

Miss me, but let me go.

The Line

Every minute someone leaves this world behind.
We are all in “the line” without knowing it.
We never know how many people are before us.
We can not move to the back of the line.
We can not step out of the line.
We can not avoid the line.

So while we wait in line -

Make moments count.
Make priorities.
Make the time.
Make your gifts known.
Make a nobody feel like a somebody.
Make your voice heard.
Make the small things big.
Make someone smile.
Make the change.
Make love.
Make up.
Make peace.
Make sure to tell your people they are loved.
Make sure to have no regrets.
Make sure you are ready.

I'm My Own Grandpa

Many, many years ago when I was 23,
I got married to a widow
who was as pretty as could be.
She had a grown up daughter
who had a hair of red.
My father fell in love with her
and soon the two were wed.
This made my dad my son-in-law
And changed my very life.
My daughter was my mother,
for she was my father's wife.
To complicate the matters worse,
although it brought me joy,
I soon became the father
of a bouncing baby boy.
My little baby then became a brother -in-law to dad
and so became my uncle though it made me very sad.
For if he was my uncle,
then that also made him brother to the widow's grown-up- daughter,
who of course, was my stepmother.
Father's wife then had a son,
who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandson, for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother
and it makes me blue.
Because, although she is my wife,
she's my grandma too.
If my wife is my grandmother,
then I am her grandchild.
and every time I think of it,
it simply makes me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
As the husband of my grandmother,
I am my own grandpa!

Quotes from the Prophets

President Gordon B Hinckley: "It is good to look to the past to gain appreciation for the present and perspective for the future. It is good to look upon the virtues of those who have gone before, to gain strength for whatever lies ahead. It is good to reflect upon the work of those who labored so hard and gained so little in this world, but out of whose dreams and early plans so well nurtured, has come a great harvest of which we are the beneficiaries. Their tremendous example can become a compelling motivation for us all, for each of us is a pioneer in his own life."

President Spencer W Kimball: "I hope to see us dissolve the artificial boundary line we so often place between missionary work and temple and genealogical work, because it is the same great redemptive work!"

President Joseph Fielding Smith: " The responsibility on behalf of our kindred dead rests with equal force on all, according to our individual ability and opportunities...the greatest and grandest duty of all is to labor for the dead."

The Passing of the Pot (Chamber Pot)

As far back in childhood
As memory may go
One household vessel greets me
That wasn't made for show
Beneath the bed twas anchored
Where only few could see
But served the entire family
With equal privacy
Some called the critter Peggy
And some the thundermug
And others called it badger
A few called it jug
To bring it in at evening
Was bad enough no doubt
But heaven help the person
Who had to take it out
Our big one was enormous
And would accomodate
A watermelon party
Composed of six or eight
When nights were dark and rainy
It was a useful urn
On icy winter mornings
The cold rim seemed to burn
At times when things were rushing
And business extra good
Each took his turn a waiting
Or did the best he could
Sometimes when in a hurry
To our disgust and shame
We fumbled in the darkness
And slightly missed our aim
The special one for company
Was decorated well
But just the same it rendered
That old familiar smell
Today this modernism
Relieves me a lot
And only in my vision
I see that homely pot.
(author unknown)

Poem about ancestors

Though steep is the path I follow today,
The footprints of time will show me the way.
For many have traveled a smiliar road,
And carried an equal of heavier load.

No troubles I face are new to this earth,
That man has not faced from time of his birth.
The route has been charted and roads have been paved
By legions before me who were stalwart and brave.

Their steps never faltered nor courage grew dim,
For they trusted the Lord and let Him led them.
If my faith and my trust remain steadfast and true,
God will guide and protect me in all that I do.
- Dolores Karides

The Elusive Ancestor

I went searching for an ancestor.
I cannot find him still.
He moved around from place to place
and did not leave a will.
He married where a courthouse burned.
He mended all his fences.
He avoided any man who came to
take the US census

He always kept his luggage packed,
This man who had no fame,
and every 20 years or so,
This rascal changed his name.
No one else inthis world is
searching for this elusive man,
so I play "Gene-solitaire"
To find him, if I can!

I'm told he's buried in a plot,
with tombstone he was blessed;
but the weather took engravings,
and some vandals took the rest.
He died before the county clerks
were appointed to keep records
No family Bible has emerged -
In spite of all my efforts.

To top it off, this elusive ancestor
who has caused me many groans -
left me even one more challenge:
He brothed a lady,
by the name of "Jones"!
(Got this from a publication
put out by the DUP organization
that names the author: Merrell Kenworthy)

Poem: Heaven's Door

If I should go before you,

If life on earth were through;

I'll stop just inside Heaven's door,

and there I'll wait for you.

You've but to look 'cross star filled skies,

Past the moon and then beyond;

To know my leaving could never break,

This heart's undying bond.

And if you should go before me,

If your journey on earth were through;

You know I will be close behind,

I'll never be far from you.

Across the span of time and space,

This love will reach this far;

For you'll always carry a bit of my heart,

No matter where you are.

Allison Chambers Coxsey©1995 ~ All Rights Reserved

Which Shall It Be? by Adelaide Proctor

Which shall it be?

"Which shall it be? Which shall it be?
I looked at John and John looked at me,
And when I found that I must speak,
My voice seemed strangely low and weak:
˜Tell me again what Robert said,"
And then I, listening, bent my head.
This is his letter:˜I will give
A house and land while you shall live,
If, in return, from out your seven,
One child to me for aye is given."

I looked at John's old garments worn;
I thought of all that he had borne
Of poverty, and work, and care,
Which I, though willing, could not share;
I thought of seven young mouths to feed,
Of seven little children's need,
And then of this.

˜Come, John,said I,
We'll choose among them as they lie
Asleep. So, walking hand in hand,
Dear John and I surveyed our band:
First to the cradle lightly stepped,
Where Lilian, the baby, slept.
Softly the father stooped to lay
His rough hand down in a loving way,
When dream or whisper made her stir,
And huskily he said: ˜Not her!"

We stooped beside the trundle bed,
And one long ray of twilight shed
Athwart the boyish faces there,
In sleep so beautiful and fair;
I saw on James rough, red cheek
A tear undried. E'er John could speak,
He's but a baby, too," said I,
And kissed him as we hurried by.

Pale, patient, Robbie's angel face
Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace.
˜No, for a thousand crowns, not him!"
He whispered, while our eyes were dim.
Poor Dick! bad Dick! our wayward son”
Turbulent, restless, idle one”
Could he be spared?
Nay, He who gave
Bade us befriend him to the grave;
Only a mother's heart could be
Patient enough for such as he;
˜And so," said John, ˜I would not dare
To take him from her bedside prayer."

Then stole we softly up above,
And knelt by Mary, child of love;
˜Perhaps for her ˜twould better be,"
I said to John. Quite silently
He lifted up a curl that lay
Across her cheek in a wilful way,
And shook his head: ˜Nay, love, not thee,
The while my heart beat audibly.

Only one more, our eldest lad,
Trusty and truthful, good and glad,
So like his father. ˜No, John, no!
I cannot, will not, let him go."

And so we wrote, in courteous way,
We could not give one child away;
And afterward toil lighter seemed,
Thinking of that of which we dreamed,
Happy in truth that not one face
Was missed from its accustomed place;
Thankful to work for all the seven,
Trusting the rest to One in heaven."