Person Record
Images
Metadata
Name |
Clark, Justus Burr |
Genealogy ID |
08279 |
Born |
04 FEB 1800 |
Birthplace |
Wilbraham, Hampden MA |
Deceased |
24 JUN 1892 |
Deceased where |
Richmond, Tioga PA |
Cemetery |
Prospect Cemetery |
Occupation |
Farmer |
Father |
Seth Clark Jr. |
Mother |
Eleanor Burr |
Spouse |
Catherine Ann Hart |
Children |
John Clark Julia A. Clark Lucinda Clark Justus Clark Jr. Daniel E. Clark Nancy Clark Morris B. Clark |
Reference |
Obit 1883 1897 |
Notes |
CLARK, Justus B. [SRGP 08279] d. near Mansfield last Fri. age 92 yrs. 4 mos. & 20 d., son of Seth who came from Vt. 1814; m. Katie Cook abt. 1821. Had: Daniel H. & Anna, both dec., John, Julia (Mrs. Albert Sherwood), Lucinda (Mrs. Lyman Beach), Justus B., Nancy (Mrs. H. B. Middaugh) & Morris B. all of area except Mrs. Middaugh of Wash. State. Bu'd Hope Cemetery, Mansfield [Mansfield Advertiser 1892 29-Jun] Justus B. Clark was born in Wilbraham, Massachusetts, February4, 1800, a son of Seth and Eleanor (Burr) Clark. His father was a soldier under Washington in the Revolution. When Justus B. was six years of age, his parents removed to Vermont, and in 1814, came to Tioga county and settled in the Tioga River valley, below Mansfield. A few years later they removed to a farm on Corey Creek, two miles east of Mansfield. In 1821 Justus B. was married to Catherine Hart, who was born may 25, 1805. The following children were born to this union: John, Julia, who married Albert Sherwood; Lucinda who married Lyman Beach; Justus B., Nancy, who married Middaugh; Daniel and Amanda both deceased, and Morris B. Mrs. Clark died October 7, 1872, and her husband June 24, 1892. He was a typical pioneer and backwoodsman, and in early manhood spent much of the time on a chase, hunting the wild animals that then so thickly infested this region. He was a man of rugged physique and capable of great endurance, and retained his power of mind and memory up to the time of his death, at the remarkable age of ninety-two years. [1897 Tioga County History page 1052] JUSTUS BURR CLARK. (The subjoined sketch is an extract from an article prepared and read by the writer on the occasion of Mr. Clark's 80th birthday, two years ago, at which a large number of his descendants gave him a pleasant surprise. The author has felt some delicacy, however, in publishing this sketch of his grandfather, lest he might be charged with favoritism, owing to its somewhat greater length and scope. But if he has written more it is because he had greater knowledge of events. Similar incidents and adventures doubtless occurred in the lives of many of the early settlers, which would now be read with interest, but which are gone with their heroes, or live but vaguely in the minds of their descendants.) The date of his birth was February 24th 1800, and the place Wilbraham, Mass., ten miles from Springfield, on the Boston turnpike. He was the ninth in a family of eleven, and is the only survivor. His father's name was Seth and his mother's Eleanor. Her maiden name was Eleanor Burr. They died here many years ago, each aged about 80, and are buried in a small cemetery about two miles from Mansfield, on the Mainsburg road. Seth was a soldier, and carried a musket under Washington. At six years of age Justus, with his parents, moved to Vermont, where they remained until 1814, when they removed to Pennsylvania, whither he had been preceded by three brothers and one sister, viz. Elijah, John, Loren and Philena. During this journey Justus, then a lad of fourteen, drove, fed and cared for a three-horse team. After living below Mansfield two or three years they went up Corey Creek, where he lived with his parents until he got married, in 1821. His wife's name was Catherine Hart. Her father was opposed to the marriage, having been told that Justus was a lazy, good-for-nothing fellow, spending his time hunting and fishing. So he stole her away, and brought her home in a cutter, where they were married. We cannot omit in this connection a brief notice of this bride of the wilderness. When we say that she was born in 1805, and that she died in 1872, we have not said all that ought to be said. For whatever of moral stamina, mental endowment or physical vigor, we as her descendants may possess, we owe something-I should say much-to this noble-hearted woman; and, although the grave has closed over her, and we can no longer thank her for what she has bequeathed to us, we would still pay an affectionate tribute to her memory. Upon getting married Mr. Clark went on the farm where he still lives. There was no road there then. Only about an acre had been "slashed down" and burned over, with most of the logs and stumps still on the ground. A log cabin had been erected, and into this they moved, taking all their worldly goods in a corn basket. There were three of them-his wife, himself and his dog. The furniture consisted of two stools to sit upon . The tools were an axe, a saw, an auger and a shaving knife. With these he went to work and made a table of cherry, which had one wooden leg, and two wooden hinges by which it was fastened to the logs in the side of the house, so that when not in use it could be tilted up against the wall. He then made a bedstead by cutting four pieces for sides and ends, and two for legs--all from saplings growing at his door. The bedcord was of elm bark twisted. His mother had given him a straw bed and two or three blankets and sheets, with bear skins in reserve for cold weather, and a wolf skin stuffed with straw for a pillow. He next made a stand to match the above named articles. His wife then took a job of weaving and bought three old chairs at one dollar apiece, when she went to the woods, obtained some bark, and bottomed them herself. He next put up an old fashioned Dutch chimney, with wooden crane instead of an iron one, and an old fashioned fireplace, the back logs for which he used to draw right in with a horse. Their first ironware was a teakettle, bought with three bushels of wheat. At the same time he bought a hand saw for $3 and shingle nails for thirty cents per pound, of William Willard, of Tioga. His first barn was built in 1830, fifty-two years ago, and the old orchard (ah! what delicious apples grew there) was planted fifty-seven years ago. The old log house stood on the site of the present dwelling, and the days passed there were days of toil, privation and hardship. Often when the husband was away, perhaps down the river with a raft of lumber, the wife had to carry on farming operations. On one such occasion the late Prof. F. A. Allen, then a small boy, dropped the corn for her to plant. The children born to them were as follows: John, Julia (Mrs. Albert Sherwood), Lucinda (Mrs. Lyman Beach), Justus jr., Nancy (Mrs. Hiram Middaugh), Daniel, Amanda (deceased), and Morris. As a renowned hunter the subject of this sketch rivaled Richard Copp and Aaron Bloss. He was the Nimrod of fifty years ago, when the forest abounded with fallow deer, the wolf and the bear. A few of his many adventures we will let him tell in his own way: "I set a trap for a bear, went to it and it was gone; followed the trail down to a little creek, where stood a leaning hemlock, and there on a limb sat the bear. I thought I would have some fun with him, so I got a pole and pried the trap off, when the bear fell to the ground; but, instead of running off as I expected, he took after me, snapping and growling at every jump. I didn't like the look of his big sharp teeth, so I ran the fastest I every did, and all the time I could hear the trap rattling at my heels. But after a while I couldn't hear it any longer, and I stopped and looked back over a log and I could see the bear. The trap had got tangled in the brush and stopped him, but I made up my mind I had had all the fun with the bear that I wanted, so I got my gun and shot him." "Deer were plenty in those days; used to kill sometimes two and sometimes five in a day. One time I saw a big buck and cracked away at his head, but hit his ear, when my little dog put after him. The old buck did not run, but pitched at the dog. I ran up to see if he was like to kill the dog, when he left the dog and pitched at me. I had no other way but to grab him by the horns. We took it rough and tumble; sometimes he was down and sometimes I was down. Finally he made a terrible spring at me. I thrust his head down to the ground and he came with such force as to end completely over, when I clapped my foot on his horns, grabbed my hunting knife and cut his throat-but not until I had lost my pants and one shoe, and was covered with blood. The horns of this deer are now on my barn." "There was a man by the name of Copp, and he and I started to go to a 'deer lick' back of Pickel Hill. On the way we came to a piece of ground trodden very smooth, as though a good many wild beasts came in there. Near by I saw a big hollow basswood tree that had fallen down, and I went and looked in, when I could see a great many eyes glistening, but I could not tell what kind of heads they belonged to. So I fired both Copp's rifle and mine into the log, and then tried to have my hunting dog go in, but he would go no farther than I pushed him. I thought I ought to have more courage than the dog, so I got a club and started into the den and commenced driving them back. They kept retreating and I kept crawling in. At the other end of the tree there was a hole just big enough for them to back out of, so I would drive them up and Copp would shoot them. The first I knew what they were I came to a dead wolf. When we got the log clear we had seven wolves." |
Imagefile |
People\Clark_JustusBurr.jpg |
