Much of the material of which the house is made Mr. Kellogg brought here from different parts of his parish; some strong timbers from Ragged Island, three miles out at sea, fine sand for his mortar from Sand Island, and the door-stone from Birch. Nearly all of the larger timbers in his house this preacher cut and hauled himself. And when they were on the spot, seventy-five of his friends and neighbors, giving him a good surprise, as did those of Lion Ben in the Elm Island stories, came and hewed the timbers and framed his house. Little wonder is it that this house, with its attractive surroundings and its pleasant associations, was ever to him the most beautiful place on earth.
He lived here with his mother and housekeeper until 1852, when his mother died. This bereavement took a strong influence out of his life; for the tactful, firm-willed mother had played a large part in moulding the character of her impetuous, venturesome son. In 1854 he married Miss Hannah Pearson Pomeroy, daughter of Rev. Thaddeus Pomeroy of Syracuse, New York, previously pastor of the Congregational church of Gorham, Maine. Three children were born to them: a son who died in infancy; Frank Gilman, at present in business in Boston; and Mary Catherine, the wife of Mr. Harry Batchelder of Melrose Highlands, Massachusetts.
The circumstances of Mr. Kellogg’s marriage are characteristic. While he always maintained a due respect for women, he was preeminently a man’s man or perhaps better a boy’s man. It is not surprising, then, to be told that his wife was “recommended to him.” A friend of his at Gorham, rallying him a bit on his bachelorhood, asked why in the world he did not marry. “Oh,” said he, “I can find no one to have me.” Whereupon his friend replied, “There is your old schoolmate, Hannah Pomeroy of Syracuse, a minister’s daughter, well educated, a good school-teacher, and smart as a whip; just the woman for a minister’s wife.” What had been the preacher’s previous plans concerning matrimony is not known, but before long he took a trip to Syracuse, and when he returned, the bargain was practically made. Though apparently so businesslike a transaction, this proved to be for more than forty years a happy union. His friend spoke truly. Had Mr. Kellogg searched many years, he could not have found a better helpmate than Hannah Pomeroy. Attractive, sincere, energetic, practical, she was a prudent, encouraging wife and a wise, loving mother.
Hannah Pearson Pomeroy Kellogg.
Wife of Elijah Kellogg.
The folk-lore of Harpswell contains many stories of this minister’s daring on sea and land and of his original ways in dealing with both saints and sinners; so original, indeed, that one rough old admirer on Ragged Island, whom Mr. Kellogg had influenced for good in a way that no other minister had ever thought of doing, said that when Parson Kellogg died, he was going to carve upon his tombstone three letters—”D. F. M.” The last two were to stand for “Funny Minister.”
This daring parson had upon his farm a bull that rendered himself extremely obnoxious to visitors who found it convenient to reach his house by crossing the pasture. The bull, therefore, must be disciplined. The preacher first harnessed Mr. Taurus to the front wheels of a heavy cart, preparatory to putting him over the road and showing him who was master. But before the guiding ropes had been adequately arranged, the bull on a mad rush took to the woods, leaving in his trail fragments of cart-wheels and harness. The little minister, however, was not thus to be outdone. The next day, at flood-tide, with tempting fodder he allured the bull to the end of the wharf and in an unguarded moment shoved him into the bay. An excellent swimmer, he then quickly jumped astride the bull’s back. By grasping his horns and intermittently thrusting his head under water, with a prowess which a “broncho-buster” might well envy, he conquered his steed. Thus, as all stories rightly end, they lived happily together ever afterwards.
Of this pastor’s unconventional methods in accepting and dispensing gifts of charity, the following are illustrative. One afternoon, just before tea, he happened into the house of a master ship-builder in his parish, a man of property and influence. The old gentleman was on the best of terms with the young preacher, and after passing the time of day, began to banter him on the condition of his boots, which were muddy and somewhat the worse for wear. “Parson, what makes you wear such disreputable-looking foot-gear?” he said. “Throw those boots away and let me get you a new pair.” The parson waited till later before he fired the return shot. After all were comfortably seated at the tea-table and he had said grace, he asked to be excused for a moment and went to the sitting room. There a good fire was blazing upon the hearth, and near by were the master-builder’s best shoes. Quickly came off the parson’s old boots, and into the fire they went; and as quickly went on to stay the master-builder’s best calfskins.
One winter day while on Orr’s Island, he got an inkling that a family there was in distress. By skilful inquiry he learned that the father had been drinking badly, and the mother and children needed food and fuel. Something must be done at once to relieve them. Going to the house of a well-to-do parishioner, he requested the use of his horse and sled for an hour or two. When they were ready, he quickly drove up to the man’s woodpile and loaded the sled generously, while the owner stood by in wonderment. The only explanation given was: “That family down there need fuel badly. You’ve got a plenty, and I’m going to haul them down a good load.” And that was explanation enough, for Parson Kellogg offered it.