Joseph was born on September 21, 1856 into a classic Pennsylvania Dutch farm family. Sarah, born August 20, 1860, was descended primarily from Ulster Scots. Both of their families had been in the area for generations.
Granddaughter
Phyllis’s notes say that Joe was kind and gentle. He worked as a tax assessor
in addition to his farming and fretted much over being fair. Phyllis said he
died of “blood poisoning from a carbuncle on his cheek” at the age of 75, when Phyllis
was only five; his 1931 death certificate said “thrombosis of the brain and
prostration.”
Phyllis
knew her Grandmother Bream better, because she lived with Phyllis's family for a
while at the end. She thought her grandmother was “the sweetest woman, always
willing to help, never asked a thing, made quilts and read her Bible until she
was nearly blind.” Sarah did not fear death. She would, in fact, tell her
granddaughter that she was eager to go see “my Joe” again.
Sarah’s parents owned a farm near Gettysburg, which wasn’t
the best place to be in July 1863. Sarah was not quite 3 years old, but even as
an old woman, she still remembered the incident clearly. On August 22, 1950, The Harrisburg Evening News ran the following story:
Camp Hill – Cannons of the Civil War still echo in the memories of Mrs.
Sarah Taylor Bream, of Camp Hill, who celebrated her 90th birthday
Sunday.
During the Battle of
Gettysburg, a New York regiment passed through “The Narrow” near Arendtsville, where
Mrs. Bream lived as a girl. The soldiers were on their way to Gettysburg from
Chambersburg. When the family refused to tell where the father was keeping the
horses, which the soldiers badly needed for their trip, they took her brother
with them.
The family was frightened, but the boy was returned later unharmed.
Her mother was also forced by the soldiers to bake bread using her entire
supply of flour. Mrs. Taylor wept. The soldiers were moved by her tears and
gave her some of their own flour.
I
heard the story in a little more detail from my mother Phyllis, who must have
heard her grandmother tell it several times.
When
it became clear that the armies were heading their way, Sarah’s father, Levi,
had taken the horses into the woods, while Sarah’s mother, Catherine, stayed
with the children. Levi did not tell Catherine where he was going, precisely so
that she could honestly tell the soldiers she didn’t know. First to visit the
farm was a regiment from North Carolina. Catherine’s mother found them
frightening, of course, but well-mannered. They took only half her flour,
sugar, and other staples, and paid her for them. True, the payment was in
worthless Confederate cash, but they were polite.
It
was after they left that the New Yorkers arrived. They were very rude; took all
the flour; and didn’t offer to pay. They told Catherine that she could either
tell them where the horses were, or they would take her eight-year-old son. She
couldn’t tell them, so they took the boy when they left. Of course, they had no
use for an 8-year-old, so they put him off the horse about a mile from the farm
and told him to go home.
Nearly
three-year old Sarah remembered hiding under the kitchen table while all this
was going on, and ever afterward “New Yorker” was an epithet in the
Taylor/Bream household.
Sarah
and Joe met when Sarah was forced to quit school to help with the family’s
income. She was hired out to work at the Andrew Bream farm. The couple lived on
the Bream farm for many years, and had three children: our ancestor Esta (#6),
her sister Carrie and, sadly, a son who was stillborn during a blizzard while
Joe was out trying to fetch a doctor.
Back to home page
Back to home page
Joseph's parents
Sarah's parents
Daughter: Esta Bream
No comments:
Post a Comment