C H A P T E R O N E
Birth. Name. Parent's Religion. Blood. Ancestor's
Religion and Politics. First Recollection. Father's
Family. From North Carolina to Indiana
I was born March 15th 1838 at a place now called Williams in Lawrence County, Indiana. When the day came for me to be named, mother said, "He looks like my brother Zachariah," but father said, "He looks like my brother Simpson." "All right", said mother," we will just christen him Zachariah Simpson." And that is my name unto this day.
Now, when mother said 'christen' she did not mean what is usually meant by christening a babe, for if she had they would have had to take me to a river, for mother and father both believed, when it came to baptizing, that is required much water. Mother, when baptized, was dipped three times, face first, and father once, backwards making in each case an entire submerging or an immersion. Religiously mother was called a Dunkard and father was called a Baptized Quaker. "Now", said father, one day to mother, "this out not to be, we are one in Christ, let us be one in name." "All right," said mother, "let us drop the names Dunkard and Quaker and simply call ourselves Christians." "Just so," said father, "but we must live Christians as well." And they did.
There runs in my veins both English and Irish blood. On the paternal side I can only trace my ancestors back to the early Quakers of Baltimore. On the maternal side I know less, for it is only said that my great grand-mother was a handsome, witty, Irish-woman. For some reason, I know not what, I have always liked the humble, honest, witty Irish people, be they Catholic or Protestant.
As far back as I can trace my ancestry they were religiously Quakers and Politically Whigs. More recently however, we are religiously, simply Christians, politically prohibition Republicans. I do not boast of my ancestors, boys, for they were humble, yet,
"Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
'Tis only noble to be good."
The first thing that I can now remember was, when I was two and one-half years old, in the fall of 1840, when General William Henry Harrison was elected the ninth president of the United States. It was on the occasion of a big rally day for Mr. Harrison when I, with my parents, stood by the road-side and saw in the great procession going by, four men carrying a small log cabin upon their shoulders, and in the open door of the cabin sat a small barrel of hard cider. The rally cry was "Hurrah for Tippecanoe and Tyler too."
My father and mother were there, because they were Whigs, and I was there because father and mother were there. There is a great deal in the way a child is brought up. O, that the children of our beloved land be brought up in the way they should go! O, that it could be said of all parents that their children are brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; that is could be said of all teachers of our great country as it was said of the great lexicographer, Noah Webster: "He taught thousands to read, but not one to sin." It is said boys, that the training of a child should begin a hundred years before it is born. I do not know about this, but I do know that the proper training should be kept up after it is born. Will you see to it, that you do your part well?
My father's family consisted of seven children, of whom I was the fifth child. Three brothers, Joshua Thomas, William Henry and John Arthur, and one sister, Nancy Elizabeth, were older than I. One sister Charlotte Ann, and one brother Rufus Wiley, were younger. My father's name was Howell Hastings, my mother's name was Edith Edwards. Father and mother were both born in North Carolina; father in 1905, mother in 1808. They were married in 1826. My two older brothers were born in North Carolina. The rest of us were born in Indiana. The parents, with their two little boys came to Indiana in 1830. They made the entire trip in a one-horse wagon; crossing the Cumberland Mountains, and passing through the states of Tennessee, Virginia and Kentucky. Of course they had but little in their wagon; a box or two containing their wearing apparel, and a little bedding, and also a little tin box containing just one-hundred dollars in gold coin and a few valuable papers, which was kept, locked and hidden, in one of the larger boxes. This hundred dollars was all the money father had except what he had in his pocket purse, which he supposed would be enough to meet the expenses of the trip.
All went well for about two weeks when a man, traveling on horseback, overtook them, who slackened his gait and traveled along with them, forming an acquaintance. He said to them that he too, was going to the far west (Indiana was called the far west then), to seek his fortune. He was very kind, helpful and generous; and traveled along with them for two days, but, on the third day morning, when father awoke, his fellow traveler was gone. Father and the man had slept under the wagon. Father usually slept in or under the wagon while mother and the little boys would sleep in the house of some family who lived by the road-side. Just as they were ready to start that morning, mother said to father, "Have you looked to see if the tin box is safe?" "No" said father. "Well, you better look," said mother. Father looked among the stuff in the big box where they had kept it, but it was not there. The man had stolen it and all that was in it. The kind family, whose hospitality mother had shared during the night, kept her and her children in their home while father and the husband of the home and an officer of the law spent two days hunting for the thief, but could not find him. So, father and mother had to pursue their journey without their little tin box which was the most valuable of their temporal assets. A man that steals, should steal no more.
In due time, (1830) father and mother with their two little boys, Thomas and Henry arrived in Lawrence County, Indiana, and settled in the rich valley of the east fork of the White river. Father's oldest brother, Arthur D. Hastings, Sen., had preceded father a few years to the new state, and was ready to greet and assist his brother to make a new home. Uncle Arthur was one of God's noblemen, an honest, leading citizen, and devout Christian. He lived on the place he first settled about sixty years, and died there in 1886 at the advanced age of 85 years. Although I had many uncles, Uncle Arthur was the only one I ever saw.
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