The Benicia girls were seated at a table especially decorated for the occasion. Through the thoughtfulness of Mrs. Mills, eighteen of the old class were present at this time. This was the last meeting that I ever attended of the members of the Alma Mater, for on September 1, 1901, I was thrown from a street car and made a cripple for the rest of my days and my usefulness was cut short for filling engagements of any sort. Since my recovery I have confined myself to voice teaching. Only on a few occasions have I appeared in public. This was either on Decoration Day or the Fourth of July, when my patriotism was aroused. I was always ready to sing for Old Glory or help our boys who fought in 1861.
In 1855 when I left the seminary I returned to my home in Stockton. My parents were getting along in years and I felt it my duty to aid them if possible. There were many families in Stockton at this time and young children were everywhere. I conceived the idea of an infant school composed of little boys and girls too small to go to the public schools. My suggestion met with approval wherever I applied, and I soon had thirty pupils promised. I rented a cottage of one room across the slough from my home. On July 1, 1856, I began and soon had a school full of little folks, numbering thirty-five. I continued teaching until September 17, 1857, when I also followed my older sisters' example and was married to George H. Blake, the eldest son of Sir Edwin Blake, who was Minister Plenipotentiary to England from America at one time. My husband was also the grandson of Major-General Benjamin Lincoln, a heroic officer of the Revolution and a skillful diplomat in the councils of his country. Lincoln was born in Hingham, near Boston, May 23d, 1733. In 1775 he was elected a member of the Provincial Congress and was appointed on the committee of correspondence. In 1776 he received the appointment of brigadier and soon after that of major-general. He rendered valuable services in the trying campaign and signalized himself in the battles on the plains of Saratoga which proved so disastrous to Burgoyne. He was severely wounded during these battles. In the battle that took place on October 7, 1776, he was obliged to leave the army. He did not return until the following August, when he was immediately sent south to assume command of the army in that quarter, which on his arrival at Charleston in December, 1778, he found in the most miserably destitute and disorderly condition. But his indefatigable industry and diplomatic energy enabled him in the following June to take the field. Such was his popularity with the army and the whole country that when he rejoined the army in 1781 to co-operate with the southern army, he had the high satisfaction of taking part in the reduction of Yorktown and of conducting the defeated army to the field, where they were to lay down their arms at the feet of the illustrious Washington. General Lincoln took the sword from Lord Cornwallis and delivered it to his Commander-in-Chief, Washington.
I feel justly proud with my sons, George Lincoln Blake and William Ellery Blake, to claim such illustrious descendants of our great republic, especially Lincoln, who gained such high recognition from our government for his patriotism and diplomatic energy in the beginning of our republic. He quelled the famous Shay's insurrection in 1786-87. He held the post of Lieutenant-Governor, was member of the convention called to ratify the new Constitution, and for years was collector of port in Boston and besides filled many minor offices. He received from Harvard University the degree of Master of Arts, was a member of the Academy of Arts and Sciences as well as of the Massachusetts Horticultural Society, and was president of the Society of Cincinnati from its organization to the day of his death. He closed his honorable and useful life in the seventy-eighth year of his life at Hingham, Mass., May 9, 1810.
This bit of history I have selected from the papers of Capt. Charles Blake, who was the grand uncle of my sons, who died in 1859 during the time I visited Boston with my husband to pursue my studies in music. Capt. Charles Blake was the seventh captain of the Blake family, was a man celebrated for his bravery and as a sailor was unexcelled in his time. I also found among his papers a Masonic sheepskin (which perhaps will be an interesting bit of information for the Masons of California), the first one that was ever gotten for an American. It could not be obtained in America, consequently it was secured in England. It bears the faded marks of "Grand Lodge of Master Masons, London No. 25, Registered on the books of the Grand Lodge in London, the 11th day of September in the year of Masonry, 5011." The grand seal is attached and signed by Robert Leslie, Grand Secretary: Edward Harper, D. Gr. Sec. This is the oldest Masonic sheepskin of the grand lodge in America. It was received by my uncle when he was twenty-five years old and has been in my possession since 1869, forty-two years ago, when we received his trunks after his death. I alone am able to give these facts of our family history, which should be known to all the members of our family. This is a family book as well as an intimate history of my life. I have been received during my life in California with so much affection and appreciation by the public I have served, that when I write I consider those who read are my friends, that we are of one common family, and I cannot look upon the people of California in any other way, for the very fact that everybody I meet or have any dealings with greet me with such courtesy and warmth.
The death of sister Mary Matilda Kroh-Trembly occurred November 8, 1856, in the thirty-first year of her life at the old home on San Joaquin street, Stockton. In 1855 she was married to Mr. David W. Trembly of New York. They settled in San Francisco, but after living there for several months the climate was found to be too severe and she contracted bronchitis, for weeks being unable to leave her room. At last she became so feeble that she was brought home to Stockton and lingered for weeks. I was at Benicia Seminary still and in my last half year when I received a letter to hurry home. Uncle William Trembly came from San Francisco to Benicia to meet me, and together we came up the San Joaquin slough, but unfortunately for us we had many things to keep us from arriving in time to see her alive. At last the steamer was fast on the hog's back, the tide was out and we could not proceed. The sailors worked with a will, but it was not until three o'clock in the morning that we were on our way once more. What a night of suspense! I loved my sister to devotion, and not to see her alive was more than I dared to contemplate, but so it was to be. She passed into eternity at the time we were trying to get off the sand bar and when uncle and I arrived in the morning, she was dead.
This was the first death that had taken place in our family. All of us had grown to manhood and womanhood and had been mercifully spared all these years until now the dearest one of all had to pass away and leave us to mourn her loss. She was the embodiment of all that was good in life, a pattern for all to follow. She was our second mother. When mother was attending to the church work or visiting the sick, accompanying father at baptisms, weddings, funerals or other offices that fall to the minister's wife, sister was always ready to take her place and see that all was well at home. She taught in the public schools, gave music lessons, was German teacher, organist on Sunday and teacher in the Sabbath school. Her life was always full of duties. She had also been father's secretary and attended to all of his correspondence in his absence. Never complaining, always there to attend to all the duties devolving upon her, she was a happy spirit of the home, as much missed as mother or father. She was my pattern and guide and if I have ever achieved anything to merit commendation during my life I owe all my best to her. She was my first music teacher and I have never deviated from her principles of voice placement. By so doing I am able to sing today with a correct knowledge of perfect tone production and able to impart to others the same tonal art that I have given to hundreds of pupils that have come under my supervision during my many years of successful teaching in California. Being so widely known and loved by all who knew her, when she was buried the schools were closed and the children, two by two, marched in procession and every conveyance that could be procured at that time was used so that all who wished to honor the beloved could do so. All the dear friends who were the instigators in procuring the first piano for her were in the procession and were most sincere mourners for the loved musician who always gave them so many hours of real happiness.
She was the leading spirit of the pleasures which they had so many times enjoyed in their loneliness away from their homes in the East. The music that was rendered by our family was the only diversion and happiness that came into their lives in the early fifties when the world seemed to be populated by men alone, all seeking the one aim—to get gold and go back rich men and then enjoy wealth and ease and comfort and make amends for the struggles and deprivations they had suffered. Now the spirit of this cherished friend had passed out to join the Choir Invisible, and a befitting burial was given her as a memorial of the affection in which she was held by those who owed her so much of real happiness in the severe struggles of the pioneer life when we were but a small colony of the first white women and men in the City of Stockton.
