The Story of the Toys

by Mary Harris Toy Dodge

In the autumn of 1860 occurred the exciting political campaign which resulted in the election of Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States. I need not describe here the gathering of the clouds nor the bursting of the storm of civil war, whose mutterings had long been heard in the distance. My brother was elected a member of the Connecticut Legislature for 1861, and, though the youngest member, he was very popular and made a fine record as a speaker on the floor of the House. The war was the absorbing topic of the time. Energetic measures were used to raise troops in response to the call of the President. A committee of the legislature, of which my brother was one, was appointed for this purpose. He threw himself into the cause of his country with all the ardor of his nature. As he labored to induce others to enlist, the conviction grew upon him that he must go himself, or he could not ask others to do so, and when the news of the disaster at Bull Run filled the country with dismay, the question was settled for him. Duty called and he must go. The company of young men he had raised chose him for its Captain, and in November, 1861, leaving his home and promising business prospects, he with his company, Co. H, joined the Twelfth Connecticut regiment, which was soon encamped at Hartford for drill. His health was far from strong, and our family physician declared he should never have consented to his going, but he passed the examination and was accepted. He was very popular with his men, and they were ready to do and dare anything with him.

The regiment was encamped at Hartford for the most of the winter, and in the spring was ordered to join Gen. Butler in his expedition against New Orleans. Before the departure, my brother was presented with a beautiful sword and sash by his fellow-townsmen, as a testimonial of their appreciation of his bravery. They left Hartford Feb. 26, 1862. The ship was greatly crowded, and the voyage was made with many discomforts, but on March 8 they reached Ship Island, where they were encamped for some weeks. They were not ordered up to New Orleans until just after the taking of the city, much to the disappointment of the young Captain, who was ambitious to see a little of actual warfare. They were stationed at Carrollton just above the city. The situation was low and unhealthy, and my brother, who was greatly weakened by an attack of dysentery while at Ship Island, was poorly able to resist the malaria of the region. He felt his danger, and wrote home that if he felt it would be honorable, he should be tempted to resign and come home. But as the young men he had influenced to enlist had not the privilege of resigning, he could not feel that he ought to leave them. He was attacked by typhoid fever soon after the hot weather became intense. He was ill a few days in his tent, but as he grew worse, he was removed to the regimental hospital, a large house near the camp, where he had comfortable quarters and excellent care. Kind comrades stood about his bed, anticipating with brotherly kindness his every want. But the most skilful surgeons and faithful nurses were powerless to save him. His system was too much weakened to resist the disease, and after a short illness he passed quietly away on the afternoon of Saturday, June 21, exchanging the scenes of strife for the land of everlasting peace.

The sad news was flashed over the wires, carrying the deepest sorrow to the home he had so lately left. The family gathered and waited in silent grief for further particulars. A letter from his friend and First Lieutenant, George H. Hanks of Hartford, soon told the sad story. He gave full particulars of his Captain's last hours, and spoke of a conversation they had just before his sickness, in which they mutually promised that in case of the death of either, the survivor should take charge of his effects and inform his friends, and said that he had requested that if he should fall, his body should be sent home to Simsbury. Lieut. Hanks says, "I promised, and to the extent of my ability I have carried out his request, assisted by some of his townsmen and personal friends who were at his bedside at the last hour. The body is sent by steamer McLellan, in a cask of spirits, carefully fastened in a sitting posture, dressed in full military uniform, and when it was adjusted he looked so natural, one might imagine it was our dear Captain sitting asleep in his chair, with his hands folded across his lap. But alas! it is the long, silent sleep of death. Dear afflicted friends, it is the saddest duty of my life, thus to return to you him who a few months since took leave of you so buoyant and hopeful, and many a tear have I shed while performing it. Possessing but few faults and many virtues, generous to a fault, and honorable to the extreme, he was universally esteemed and beloved by the entire regiment."

On arriving at New York, the body was transferred to a metallic casket and sent to Simsbury. It was met at Plainville by a delegation of the citizens, who with saddened hearts received him who had recently gone out from them brave and bright and hopeful. The sad home-coming was almost overwhelming to the family. They gathered sorrowfully to mingle their tears for his early death. The body was taken to the Methodist Episcopal church, but the public service was held in the Congregational church, as the other was too small to accommodate the numbers who wished to attend. The large church was filled with a throng of citizens of our own and neighboring towns. Comrades, friends, companions, the Masonic fraternity, all came to mingle their tears and sympathies with the family and relatives, for the brave young life so early sacrificed, and to do honor to him whom they all loved and lamented so sincerely. The funeral discourse was given by the former pastor and dear friend of the family, Rev. Ichabod Simmons of New Haven, from the text, II Timothy iv:3—"A good soldier." It was a beautiful and appropriate tribute to the departed, with words of hope and comfort for those who mourned him so truly. After the service he was borne tenderly from the Methodist church to his last rest in the hillside cemetery where he had requested to be laid beside his beloved mother. The solemn burial service of the Masonic order closed the services, and so the second great sorrow settled down upon our home.

My brother was a young man of fine natural endowment and a most genial disposition. He was greatly beloved at home, and popular everywhere, especially among the young people, with whom he was always a leader. Mr. Simmons said of him at his funeral: "It is a part of my mission to-day to say that a young man of promise has fallen. An earnest and close debater, a great reader of history, with a good memory, and an imagination sparkling with poetry and beauty, he would have stood high among the men of his day. He was a close thinker and reasoner, but never anchored outside the clear, deep waters of the Bible. He was keenly sensitive to the ridiculous, and on occasions could be very sarcastic, yet his tenderness of feeling prevented his wit from wounding the most sensitive. His nature was cast in a merry mould, his wit was original, and in the social circle he was the happy pivot on which the pleasant moments swung. The death of our friend is a general loss to this community. He was a representative spirit among you. As a citizen you had already learned to rank him high in your esteem. His large circle of young friends are especially called to mourn. A bright light has gone out among you."

The affliction fell with crushing force upon my father. His heart was almost broken, and it was years before he recovered from the blow.

The events which now came into our family life were of a more cheerful nature. The first break in the home circle was occasioned by my marriage to Rev. John W. Dodge of Newburyport, Massachusetts, which occurred November 7, 1860. Mr. Dodge was a graduate of Amherst and Andover, and had at that time accepted a call to be pastor of the Congregational church of Gardiner, Maine. Our acquaintance began by his coming to Simsbury, in November, 1855, to teach a select school. His friend, Mr. T. G. Grassie of Amherst, had taught it the year before with great acceptance and was engaged to return, and as our family were greatly interested in him, my mother had promised to take him as a boarder. He was taken very ill during the fall term of college, and being unable to fulfil his engagement, he sent his friend as substitute. So apparently trivial events often change the whole current of our lives. We became engaged during that winter, which was Mr. Dodge's junior year in college. I attended his graduation in August, 1857, accompanied by my cousin, Sarah Jane Tuller, and visited his home in Newburyport in the summer of 1859. Though hampered by delicate health and small means, he completed his theological course at Andover in 1860, and our marriage took place as soon as he secured a suitable parish.

The first wedding in the family was a great event, and no pains were spared to make it a delightful occasion. It was an evening wedding, with about fifty guests. My sister Susan was bridesmaid, and was attended by my husband's brother Austin as best man. Our dresses were similar, of figured grey silk, mine being trimmed with white silk and lace, and I wore a bunch of white Japonicas. The ceremony was performed by our friend and pastor, Rev. I. Simmons, assisted by Rev. Allen McLean, the blind pastor of the Congregational church, to whom I was much attached.[5] A wedding supper was served, followed by a pleasant social evening. Mr. Dodge's mother and brother were the only friends of his who could be present. The good-byes were said early the next day and we set our faces toward our new home. After several pleasant days in Boston, we went to Newburyport, only to be met by the sad tidings that Mr. Dodge's father had died suddenly on the very day of our marriage, and that they were delaying the funeral till our arrival. It was a sad home-coming and clouded the brightness of those first days. We remained in Newburyport several weeks, and Mr. Dodge prepared his first sermon as pastor, in the study of his old friend and minister, Dr. Dimmick, who had recently died.

We were most kindly received by the people at Gardiner. Mr. Dodge was ordained December sixth, 1860. The sermon was preached by Dr. Chickering of Portland, and the ordaining prayer was offered by the venerable David Thurston. We found a pleasant home for ourselves, and my father and mother and Mother Dodge came to assist in our going to housekeeping. Our outfit would seem simple indeed to the young people of this day, but love and content abode with us, and we were happy. Our first great sorrow and disappointment came in the loss of a little one to whose coming we had looked forward with joy. This was followed by months of weakness and ill-health for me. My husband's health also gave way in the spring, making necessary a long summer vacation. Six months of this were spent in tenting on Salisbury beach, which resulted in great gain to us both. Our three years' pastorate in Gardiner was pleasant and successful, but a second break in health, in the fall of 1863, made a resignation necessary, and we came to Newburyport to spend the winter with Mother Dodge. In December, through the kindness of his friend, Captain Robert Bayley, my husband was offered a voyage in one of his vessels to the West Indies. He sailed for Porto Rico in the Edward Lameyer, commanded by Captain Charles Bayley, and received much benefit and enjoyment from the six weeks' trip.

After coming home he supplied for some time at Northboro, Massachusetts, and in the autumn he received a call to Gardner, Massachusetts, which he did not accept. Later, however, he went to Yarmouth, Massachusetts, where he supplied for six months for Rev. J. B. Clark, who was with the Christian Commission in the Army of Virginia. We found a pleasant home with Mr. Clark's mother in the parsonage, and greatly enjoyed this experience, and as it proved it prepared the way for our chief life work. On the return of Mr. Clark, in July, 1865, we went to Hampton, New Hampshire, where my husband was immediately called to the vacant pulpit of the Congregational church. A pleasant pastorate of three years there was followed in 1868 by a call to succeed Mr. Clark, who had resigned as pastor of the Yarmouth church. During our second year in Hampton we had adopted a little girl, whom we called Mary Webster. She was at this time nearly three years old.