Wednesday, February 19, 2014


Jesse Halsey c1937

(Hoping that possibly out of the process there may be matured a wholesome loaf of bread or, more likely, a small pan of biscuits.)

There follow some random memories and observations out of experience that ultimately might find their way into a brief autobiography.

When I read about the peasantry of France or the yeomanry of England, I always rather proudly assert to myself, “that is the pit from which I was digged,” ‘though the farming element of New England does not, so far as I know, have attached to it any similar term.

In 1640, my ancestors settled on eastern Long Island. They bought land from the Indians and wrested a living from the soil and the sea. The wife of my paternal ancestor, the pioneer, Thomas Halsey, was carried off and murdered by the Indians, but the local tribes pursued the murders up into New England and executed them. There is no record of any further serious disturbance between whites and Indians.

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