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For years I've been writing a history, Of a family I know quite well, But I find the past all a mystery, And the story is difficult to tell. Like the history of onations is a fable, Until modern times has revealed, So the family historian is unable, To divulge all the facts concealed. Perhaps every family has traditions, Of its origin in centuries past, But no one can tell the conditions, Nor how the name happened to last. That we are of French origin is stated, In in the annuals of history we read, But the events are not always dated, And many other facts that we need. Protestants were called Huguenots there, As an insult to their dignity forever, But we should treat such enemies fair, And live with them in harmony together. Religious persecution was very strong, And Protestants were beaten and slain, Their methods of punishment were very wrong And caused suffering people to complain. So, I said to my loving wife one day, "Let's leave this horrible State, But where can we go, or where can we stay, And how shall we conquer our fate? There is only one Asylum I know, The Netherlands are a safe retreat, To Holland all refugees may go, And there with our family we'll meet". So, in the darkness of night we came, Seeking our friends and relations, But Catholicism here is just the same, As in all other church-ridden nations. Then to Scotland we decided to go, Where Protestants can live in peace, Here we may worship our God below, And persecution will forever cease. Here we have heard of a land far away, Where religious toleration is a boon, For that land is known as America, And I wish we could there soon. But I'm too old to cross the Ocean, My son John wants to go there, For he has always had a notion, That land is both fertile and fair. Very soon a vessel is going to sail, From Scotland to America's shore, So John must be ready, or he may fail, And never have a chance any more. On board that vessel were Refugees, From France and other nations, Who had decided to cross the seas, And make a living in other vocations. That vessel landed on the Eastern Shore, The place was not beautiful or fair, A place where business was very poor, And John traveled on foot to Delaware. Here he purchased a parcel of land, Of Edmond Andros, Gov. of New York, There were 300 acres and a lot of sand Near Cedar creek, but there was no park. After four years he sold this ground, And was married two years later, He purchased ground wherever found, And his acreage became greater and greater. To John and Mary, four sons were born, Named Thomas, John, Samuel and Abraham, All of them farmers, grew tobacco and corn, And they all got married but Sam. Then Thomas was married to Sara Jones, And there was a Thomas in four generations, In the cemetery now lies all their bones, Like many of our friends and relations. The fourth of these Thomas left a son, They named him Levi, and he was lucky, For he left the Eastern Shore and won, Great honors and wealth in Kentucky. Nine children, the tribe of Levi raised, Thomas and Matthias are known best, If you follow then up you'll be amazed, And the same may be said of all the rest. This Thomas was married to Mary Stout, And once again nine children all tarried; Purnell, Luther and Matthias all about, Till they all grew up and were married. Purnell was a pioneer, went to Illinois, But at Mt. Zion he would not stay, Followed by one of the other boys, They both finally settled at Virginia. There he was married twice in his days, Then two girls and two boys arrived, Rachel three and Mary one to raise, But no one to bear his name survived. Purnell was a good farmer and he saved, He took pleasure in growing good corn, But when it was wasted "Stop" he raved, "Its worth 50 cents a bushel in the barn." In the Thomas clan was another son, Rev. William, probably a S. S. teacher, But he left the old farm at Lexington, And was ordained a Methodist Preacher. William Carrel was a son on Purnell, His office was full of animation, All he accomplished I cannot tell, He was a lawyer by profession. Mary was the daughter of Purnell, we find, And she married to Robert Wilson too, She raised a large family of children to mind, Like the good old woman who lived in a shoe. Her granddaughter is named Prudence, She is educated and accomplished too, I wish that all our modern students, Had as much wisdom and refinement as you. I have never seen this good woman, Her cousin Sadie who lived in Decatur, Told me what appears as a good omen, That we all may see Prudence later. Dr. Warren Bell of St. Louis, a Physician, He was very highly honored in his day, But the writer never knew his position, Because of the distance so far away. His widow wrote me a number of times, To know the facts about our elation, I could not compose enough reaming rhymes, To solve the mystery of all creation. Her daughter Olive writes me sometimes, And she writes a very good letter, She likes the Round Robin too, and finds, It is always getting better and better. Out in California, we have Cousins too, Clara and Cecile, both write a good letter, I cherish their friendship and so do you, And I hope sometime, to know them better. They are grand daughters of Luther a brother, To Purnell, William and Matthias we know, Who were always associated with one another, As all the family records clearly show. The initials of their father were T.E.W.O. He was a soldier, and he studied law, Taught school, took a homestead in Colorado, Bur the advantages of farming he foresaw. He also had a sister named Martha L., She was the grandmother of Alta you see, The entire story is difficult to tell, In just a few lines of epic poetry. Out in Colorado Cousin Alta resides, Of my friends she is one of the best, A beautiful and singer besides, And she is accomplished like the rest. In another line is cousin Rene Swink, Her family is one of the very best, She too, is highly accomplished, I think, And it's a pleasure to be her guest. That family was always wealthy and kind, Their home in the South for a while, They all possessed a brilliant mind, And they lived in the highest style. Her good father was named Matthias G., She was married to Roy Vernon Swink, Her grandfather was called William Lee, In the Levi chain, an important link. Her great-grandfather Matthias, a man, Who was a son of Levi, the Pioneer, He went to Kentucky with a caravan, From the Eastern Shore, without fear. Now, we must turn to another line, The second John Outten you know, Purnell and Obed were very fine, And both had families to grow. Rev. Purnell T. was his son they say, In his clan Dr. James N. of Kentucky, Some were Captains who sailed the Bay, And most of them seemed to be lucky. Dr. James N. of Hickman, was very mild, Born near Concord, I know his condition, He was taken to Kentucky when a child, Studied medicine and became a physician. Cousin Anna, his daughter certainly foresaw, A stenographer in Chicago, what a mystery, But she came to Washington and studied law, And she searched records for our history. William H. is in the line of Purnell too, He lived at Bethel, not very far away, Fred, Albert, Joanna, and Fannie, I knew, All of them live here on the Peninsula. Fred is a jeweler, Albert a barber today, Joanna an invalid, totally blind, she hears, Fannie of Delmar has recently passed away, All the others are now advanced in years. William C. T. was an engineer in his day, On the Southern R. R. there was a noise, He was killed in a train wreck, they say, And he left a wife, daughter and two boys. Charles of Vernon, I also once knew, He had a number of children to tell, John, George and William there too, And a daughter, Laura I knew well. Just one little compliment from Laura from me, When a boy Preacher we associated together, At my request she looked up her family tree, But now alas, there are all gone forever. Two grandsons of Charles, I'm glad to say, Norman and Harold are cousins I know, They both have very fine families today, And they are busy and prosperous also. James of Concord from Alabama descended, His wife descended from Obed his brother, Lynford their grandson is hereby commended, To tell how each one descended from another. He was a ship-carpenter by profession, And a very busy man all of his days, Had valuable property in his possession, So, he helped the town in many ways. He lived in the little town of Concord, A country village in Sussex County, Del., But there never seemed to be any discord, For the people served the community well. The town of Concord was built on ground, Where mining was an important institution, In all this section iron ore was found, But the mines were closed by the Revolution. Prof. George Maddux was a son of James, He was the principal of many a school, It was easy for him to call the names, He was an expert in knowing how to rule. To Baltimore he went from the plantation, Lived there until he became a resident, He held an office at the B.& O. station, And had hope of becoming the President. Two grandsons of James were Elmer and Lyn, They were merchants and kept a big store, In business they always knew how to begin, And they always came out with much more. Many years ago, cousin Elmer passed, Leaving Orpah his wife and 4 children too, He was a very successful man in his day, And his family is just as good and true. Lynford and Larry always try to please, Their home is in the town of Dover, All the world needs citizens like these, Wish they could live their lives over. The children of Maddux should be mentioned too, Ethel, Corinne, Luta, Zeta and others, All the grandsons of James were good and true, And they always treated each other like brothers. But now we must come to the Obed clan, The son of John in the writer's line, In writing this record I have no plan, But the order of nature I try to define. Obed was married in life very late, Left three children his name to bear, He surely had fond a wonderful mate, She brought up his children with care. The descendant of Obed I want to tell, Filled many and various positions sure, Some farmers, sailors, and merchant to sell, Others bankers, teachers and doctors to cure. Yours truly, is the only preacher today, We wish there were many more teachers, Three preachers in 300 years I'll say, Is not a fair average of preachers. I've given to the Ministry my entire life, If you judge my success, I have no fears, I have been greatly assisted by by wife, And we have served churches for 46 years. We have had four children for our pleasures, Three boys, Randolph, Maynard, and Granville, They have always been our greatest treasures, Their childhood is a pleasant memory still. Then, after ten years the stork brought a girl, Her advent, with joy, we hastened to greet, And to honor the child as a "beautiful pearl" We gladly gave her the name of Marguerite. She is married now, has a girl and a boy, They are as smart as youngsters can be, The girl likes a doll, the boy likes a toy, And the family is all happy, don't you see? Randolph is a Dentist in his profession, His summer cottage where grow the heath, A daughter, three grandsons in succession, His office in Laurel, he extracts teeth. Granville was drafted in the first World War, The father of three children, small in size, His character the Service could not mar, But he made at last the "Supreme Sacrifice". Our losses have been three very good boys, Maynard, Granville, and Noble our grandson, So we have had sorrows, as well as joys, Long before life's journey has been run. Now, we are retired, well, I am not ashamed, It is the evening hour of a rather long day, I have tried to gain that for which I aimed, And some day we shall all go away to stay. But now I must turn to the Abraham line, He had more wealth than his brothers, A farmer and Sea Captain, strange combine, And he lived in Snow Hill with others. Father Abraham and Rhoda Selby his wife, Had five sons and a daughter by nature; They lived a busy and strenuous life, He was a member of the Maryland Legislature. Matthew was the owner of many a farm, One was near Concord, in Sussex, Delaware; William was killed while trying to perform, His duty as a Deputy Sheriff, well. A son of William was John Purnell, George Franklin a grandson, we see; A great-grand daughter was Maysville, Her correspondence was helpful to me. The sportsman of the family was John Purnell, Born with the traditional "Silver Spoon"; His hobby was race horses, to buy or sell, And he was always lucky in getting the boon. Racing was popular, his horse was in line, His jockey accepted a bribe and was done; For he discovered the strategy just in time, And he said "I ride Salem today", and he won. George Franklin his son, lived at Norfolk, Virginia, His plantation was called the "Sycamore Farm"; He was a judge in the County Courts of his day, And in the war he trained soldiers how to arm. He was married twice during his career, And he was the father of twelve children too; Such a large family deserves a good cheer, But forsooth, they all died young but two. His eldest daughter was named Maysville, One of the best educated women of our clan; She knew many languages and tried to fulfill, All her duty in war as a patriotic American. In early life she married A. Smith Irvine, She was a Christian in the Baptist fold; Her articles in the papers seemed divine, When we corresponded, she was ninety years old. The story of this family is hard to tell, Though I knew Julius of Accomac too; An uncle to Hiram, here at Milton, Delaware, And all these Outtens are good and true. Our family is not perfect, or Angelic neither, But there has never been a murder concealed; Not one has ever committed suicide either, No thief, or robber, or defaulter is revealed. The family has been benevolent in giving, None have been extremely destitute or needy; All of us have had to work for our living, But no one has been gluttonous or greedy. The writer has corresponded with dozens, We have long known our ancestors well; He has recognized them all as cousins, And they have all had good news to tell. My reasons for writing such a long story, May be simple, but is worth finding out; It certainly has not been to bring glory, To any person I have written about. I confess, my family was a mystery to me, And I think my ancestors are to blame; Not one of my family ever tried to be, Informed concerning our nation or name. We expect our children to know our history, Of every nation on the face of the Earth; But to them, their families are a mystery, And has been from the time of their birth. It is helpful to look up our family tree, And observe the good fruit it has born; No "Black Sheep" hanging from a limb we see, Not one has ever given us cause to mourn. Many County record offices I have invaded, And not any one have I tried to deceive; No one named in this poem is degraded, All that is stated in the records I believe. Now, I have traced our family to France, In this poetry, as well as in our history; I have read all records I had a chance, And have tried to solve every mystery. This poem may attract your attention, Or you may casually turn it about; But it is really serious to mention, For the Outten family is dying out. In the early days, the families were large, But today they are entirely too small; This is to my mind a serious charge, For it indicates the guilt of us all. Some people say children are a liability, But they are an asset just the same; For no family can maintain it's stability, Without children to perpetuate it's name. So if in the future the name peters out, And the family is no longer known; Remember how it was all brought about, For we are reaping what we have sewn. Now I am closing these random rhymes, May all the family forever be true; Until we shall hear the Heavenly Chimes, And the entire family meet together with you. |