MY EARLY LIFE, ETC.
MARCH 1858.--My clear friend, Mrs. Voorhees, as you have expressed the wish for a peep into my history, previous to meeting me on board of the steamer Cataract, at St.Louis, bound for Kansas City, I will gratify you in that desire.
There is nothing of what the world would call noble or renowned in my pedigree; and there was all in surrounding circumstances, that would tend to hold a mind down that was dependent upon outside influences--I mean poverty in my generation; yes, my father was poor; so I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth, or nursed in the lap of luxury, or heir to an estate, only by rumor. My pedigree is traceable to the West of England, my estate to the city of Bristol, and my nobility to honest, good-natured grandfathers and grandmothers, who dwelt in the town of Chesterfield, N. H., " the Old Granite State." There lived and died my grandfather, Ezra Davis, who married Amy Snow; there, too, lived and died my mother's father, Capt. Benjamin Smith, and his wife, Louis Bacon. My father's name was Darius H. Davis; he was born in Chesterfield, N. H., on the 6th of Nov., 1785. My mother's name was Louis N. Smith; she was born in Chesterfield, N. H., Aug. 5th, 1785. My parents emigrated from their native town, and settled at Crown Point, Essex Co., N. Y., when that was called a great distance from the old New Hampshire State, in order to keep their growing family around them in a new country. My father was a mechanic, a tanner; moral, upright, and strictly honest in all his dealings with his fellows. His integrity of character far outstripped that of those of much greater pretensions ; his pleasantness, cheerfulness, and submissiveness to an overruling Power, cannot be equaled. The memory of my dear, departed father is pleasant, and I often dream of seeing him in all his wonted goodness. Yes,
My father was too confiding to be very shrewd in business, too noble to stoop to the "grab game" of the world to.enrich his own pocket; so if he had by hard labor a few hundred dollars laid up to enlarge his business, the eager and dishonest were, by some game, sure to get it hence, poverty and toil were his.
My mother was ambitious, economical, benevolent,--a true wife and kind mother; but has been a great sufferer for more than fifty years, with the phthisic; I fear her lamp will soon go out.
Well, it was in Crown Point, on the 18th of December, 1817, on a cold winter night, (while my father had gone to the city of Troy on business,) that I, the twelfth of seventeen children, entered, two months in advance, upon my mundane life. No one but my fond parents thought me worth raising, so no amount of care and nursing was too much to lavish upon their little, weak child. When five weeks old, they ventured to tie me up in a red silk handkerchief; and hung me on to the hook of the steelyards, when, to their encouragement, I weighed six pounds; my blanket was shaken when I was wanted, then I would drop out.
Time sped on; the baby grew,--and at two years old, can remember that a little brother was sent into the family to hold the most prominent place there. Since that time memory has served me in recording the events of my life. Our homes were many; school at a distance, and I was too puny to attend, consequently learned to read from the older children. When eight years old, remember of trying to go to school some, and of reading in the renowned English Reader, and spelling in Webster's Spelling Book. These were all the books I had to study (for it was but little I went to school,) until I was fifteen years old; then I became the owner of Smith's Grammar, and a share in Olney's Geography and Adams' Arithmetic. I was very anxious to learn, but from ill health, caused by our living in a malarious district, I had had the fever and ague all the previous Summer; and now it would not leave me able to attend school but twenty-four days during the Winter. My kind teacher offered to call at my father's to hear my lessons, but I was not well enough to study.
Previous to this, for a number of years, I had attended Sunday School, and always kept at the head of my class, reciting from Bible question books. I wanted to be good; so, as I thought, made my "calling and election" sure, and united with the Congregational Church before I was fourteen.
At the age of fifteen, I was anxious to dress well, as all girls are, and my father was able to get me but a very few clothes; so I agreed to work for a brother's wife, at 25 cents per day, enough to buy a calico dress that would cost 37 1-2 cents per yard. I washed at home on Monday, and on Tuesday for my brother's wife. I had the dress, a pretty light one, and just like our minister's wife's; surely, I thought, it would be nice to go to church dressed like our revered minister's wife, but was not able to wash enough to pay for it all. I was the oldest one at home at this time; my two sisters and two brothers, of the many older than myself, were all that were living, and they were married and away before I was fourteen.
As I viewed my father's circumstances, I knew that I must make my own way in life--go out and take care of myself; so the height of my aspirations were to attain to the position of school teacher, and I hoped that some day I should have a pair of scissors hanging at my side, fastened with a large scissor hook to my silk apron strings--have a green silk calash bonnet, and green ribbon to hold it over my face, and walk to and from school with a score or more of little urchins calling me school-ma'am; this would constitute my beau ideal of attainments and honor.
What caused me to shed many tears in my early life, was that I could not have the opportunity of getting an education, and I almost coveted the advantages that some girls had of being sent away to attend an academy school; so I would wish that my father was rich enough to board, clothe, and pay my tuition, somewhere at a high school. But what I crave must be gained by my own effort; I felt a determination to clothe and educate myself.
The winter I was sixteen, attended our district school; my mother needed me the Summer after. My seventeenth Winter boarded at a brother's, attended a district school, working nights and mornings, besides one day in each week, to pay for my board. I was obliged to keep very busy in school and out, to get my lessons in the three common branches, (for I was a dull scholar,) and pay for my board. I could not think of much recreation, though I believe I did go to one sleigh-ride.
The Summer after, I kept house for my eldest brother, who had some months before been called to part with his good wife, and lay her mortal remains in the tomb, leaving him to mourn, and two little daughters motherless. I maintained my place as housekeeper, with all the dignity I could command at this early age, until another took my place and was called mother.
Shortly after, my youngest brother, a cherub of five Summers, was stricken with the scarlet fever, and was laid soon in the church-yard. This was a great grief to us all, and we deeply mourned for him. The nine that had been taken from our family before, were all taken in infancy. Now ten of us had joined the angel choir; one brother and one sister were left younger than myself.
Attended the three months district school the Winter I was eighteen, and the Summer after, I had the honor of being school-ma'am in one of the back districts of my native town. I did not wear the green silk calash, but a shaker, made of brown muslin smoothed over a pasteboard frame; it was very fashionable; besides it kept the sun out of my face, and was very genteel for a school-ma'am. I taught for 75 cents per week; was not obliged to be inspected, as they had had a qualified teacher in the Winter,--and should not have merited a certificate if I had been. But I kept my school out and gave good satisfaction, so they said. After my school closed, I sewed on their sewing and quilted at one place; did house-work for an acquaintance the Winter I was nineteen; ought to have attended school. The next Summer was applied to teach in a part of our town known as "Hell's kitchen;" had one dollar a week for teaching in a district bearing such a hot name. I liked my school, my boarding places, enjoyed my walks back and forth from school, through the woods, and was not any too warm. I heard of no dissatisfaction, save from one woman, who said, (because I punished her girl,) "I'll send her where corn is cheaper." She soon felt better; I kept my time out, and was wanted to teach there again. I was not inspected this season, so dared not engage the Winter's school. The Fall found me just across the lake, spinning wool.
The Winter I was twenty, I did house-work in a hotel for a very estimable lady, a kind friend. She gave me$1.25 per week. While with this lady I learned many a lesson in housekeeping, which has been of great value to me. By being very careful and tidy, I could now dress as well as other young ladies of our town; and with my emulous organization I must be, else I should have felt mortified and mean. Happy are those who possess a large share of self reliance, and can hold up their heads even though clothed in rags.
The Summer after, I taught school in one of the first districts in town; was obliged to study to keep ahead of my large scholars; learned more that Summer than I should if I had attended school. In the middle of the Summer went before the School Inspectors with trembling and fear, it being the first time, and I knew my knowledge of the elementaries vas very little; but I soon heard, by the by, that our good minister said I bore the best inspection of any he had inspected that season. His saying that gave me much courage. After, he visited my school; approved of my manner of teaching, and advised me to make teaching my business. This again strengthened my weak confidence in self, and the more as it came from my pastor, shepherd of the flock.
The winter I was twenty-one, was prevailed upon to teach through the month of December, in order that the district might draw their public money, as their summer school had been taught by an uninspected teacher. I was paid two dollars per week, and wanted the rest of the winter, but I had made up my mind to visit with my parents' grandparents, whom I had never seen.
When ready for our journey, heard that there was no snow in Vermont or New Hampshire, and being determined to have a sleigh-ride, turned our course toward this St. Lawrence county, where the snow was white and deep. My eldest sister was coaxed to journey with us--leaving her little family for a few weeks--to rest and regain her health, which was poor.
We journeyed through what was called "the woods;" we saw that our provision boxes and pails were well filled with baked meat and beans, boiled chicken, ham, the best of biscuit, butter, doughnuts, cheese, mince-pie, and a variety of cakes; so when we put up at a log hotel, we furnished our own table, calling for cup of tea, and paying for our trouble. We had a gay time visiting our friends in St. Lawrence county, then went to Fort Covington, Franklin county, to visit a rich uncle, Mr.. Allen Lincoln, whose riches did not cause him to feel superior to his poor relatives. Both uncle and aunt (she being my father's sister) entertained us with the best that their large and well filled house afforded; while I enjoyed myself very much in the society of, and had many a pleasant ride with, my cousin Allen M. Lincoln, who was pleasing in his manner, and about my own age. This kind uncle offered to help my father to a tannery situated in Parishville, St. Lawrence co.; thought he could find good business there.
My father, mother and sister went back home leaving me in Fort Covington. I spent three months there very pleasantly. When my uncle went to New York on the first of May, I went along with him, riding in the stage coach and on steamboat back to my native town;--for me I had made a great tour.
In three weeks after my return home, my father was ready to start for St. Lawrence county. Two double wagons held our goods, our family of five, and two drivers. Our way was through the woods again, but winter had gone; the road wound up over mountain and hill, through valley, over plain, across the rushing stream, by craggy rock and overhanging cliff, along beside the quiet little lake, and over the murmuring, pebbly bottomed brook where scores of speckled trout were sporting in the clear, sweet water. A late, new growth of tender leaves clothed the maple, beach, birch, ash, poplar, and linden; shrubs were white with blossoms, and many spring flowers were peeping through the mat of dried leaves. The odor from all the freshness of spring, mixed with the balsamic smell of the tall giant pine, hemlock, spruce, cedar, and sweet fern of the plains, gave us a rich perfume to inhale all the day long, and which the dampness of night seemed to condense and furnish in greater abundance. Romantic, healthy, and wild indeed was this journey.
We arrived at our destination in Parishville, St. Lawrence county, on the first day of June, 1839. My sister Louisa, six years younger than myself, in a few days went to live with our good aunt in Fort Covington.
Somewhere on the journey, without our knowledge, we had come in contact with the contagion of measles; my brother and sister did not have them very hard, but they nearly took my life.
We found Parishville a very pleasant, quiet village, situated on the St. Regis river and environed with wild and romantic scenery, which to a poetic mind would give sentiment for many a verse. A fine agricultural country spreads abroad from it. My father's business was good here, and in two or three years we made improvements, so that we had a tidy, pleasant home, a plenty of the good things of life, and could receive and treat our friends without that feeling of mortification which poverty always gives to the proud heart. I spent many pleasant and happy days in this little ville, in the society of the friendly and large-hearted.
The Fall after we came to this town, I got able to teach a very pleasant, juvenile select school for three months. The Winter after, when twenty-two, attended the village district school. I studied hard, but made slow progress, for I needed to apply myself closely to study in order to acquire a little knowledge. The next Summer I taught the village school on the other side of the river, (there being two districts in the village,) in what was called the old Academy.
My twenty-third year I attended the village school part of the Winter, then went with my father and mother on a visit back to my native town. The Summer after, attended the Academy school in Fort Covington--paid my own tuition--boarded with my friends. These four months finished up my school-going days. Went to Parishville in the fall, fitted as I hoped to teach a Winter school; was soon applied to, to take the school in the old Academy. I had a large school, some days numbering seventy; taught four months, and when the pay-day came the trustees paid me more than they agreed to, which was proof to me that I had given satisfaction. The other school was taught by Wm. H. Colt, until he had an application to go to Montreal, Canada, to teach a government free school in connection with the American Presbyterian Church; then the school was taught by a young lady.
I continued teaching in Parishville village and vicinity until the Spring after I was twenty-six, 1844; I then had an unlucky tip-over out of a sleigh, which badly hurt my left side. I was subjected to a course of doctoring--taking emetics of a carbonate of potash obtained from blue flag roots. Thus were the functions of my stomach almost destroyed. I have lived since that time by using the greatest amount of self-denial in submitting the good things of life to my stomach for digestion; and what would be called temperance in eating to most of folks, to me would be intemperance, even to extinguishment of the life spark. So my fare must be the plainest and coarsest, as I journey on through life.
In these years there would often come the "whitewinged messenger," from the British Province of Canada, laden with accents of love, true and tender, from an affectionate, noble and manly heart ;--once in a long time a visit instead.
In the Spring of 1845, in a little house in P----- , and in the " sanctum" chamber room, were many kinds of sewing hurried along; light silk, white muslin, were carefully concealed from the observant eye; a bonnet with the slightest tinge of salmon, ornamented with delicate white flowers and silk lace, was kept with the lid of the band-box on, down on the under shelf in the deep cupboard. All the rooms in the house were put in order save the kitchen--there was heard the pulverizing of white sugar, beating of eggs, preparing of fruit, and these much anxiety, (lest we should not have good luck,) until the pyramid white cake with snowy frosting, the fruit cake wreathed with sugar plums, and the cup cake blushing like fresh roses, were placed side by side on a table, and received the epithet, nice! nice!
On May-day, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and a few friends, were gathered into the plainly furnished, but neat parlor,--then the holy man stood up,--while the white muslin fluttered from the beating of the timid maiden's heart as she took the marriage vow,--and closed by saying, " What God has joined together, let no man put asunder." After, came congratulations, large slices of cake, dinner, tears at parting, a ride in a stage coach, on steamer and cars, and then in a cab up to the door of a large boarding-house in the city of Montreal, where I, as Mrs. Colt, was welcomed to Canada.
The next day was Sunday; I was seated at the head of a pew in the American Presbyterian Church, and this seat in church was mine for the seven years that I dwelt in the city. Verdant country girl as I felt myself to be, I was introduced into the society of the well-educated, polished, polite and refined. I loved the society dearly, and strove to improve by having such advantages; and memory holds enshrined in my heart the names of many ladies, of whom it gives me much happiness to think.
To tell you all that was of note in Montreal, would be to write a book about it. I will give you a few hints. Long, long ago, when the red man hunted, fished, and built his wigwam city there, they gave it the name of Hachelaga. The French, anxious to possess this beautiful domain, warred with the rightful owners, drove them out and built their own town there. They called it "Ville Maria:" afterwards Montreal, from Mount Royal. They built a wall around the town, but this did not keep it from falling into the hands of the English, under whose government it has grown to the city of note which it is. Mount Royal, back of the city, rises in majestic beauty, and, like a beacon light, can be seen from the country far around, to guide the stranger to the city. As you approach nearer, you are inspired with awe and reverence almost to a bowing posture, on viewing the many spires, the tall and elegant steeple of the English Church, and the massive grandeur of the French Cathedral, whose lofty towers reach into the sky, far above all else in the city. Or should you chance to enter it from the east on a bright sunny morning, you would exclaim, "A city of silver!" on beholding the reflection from the tin covered roofs, domes and spires.
The French, Scotch, English, and Americans are well represented in this city, besides a sprinkling other nations. Here can be seen all types of architecture, and as many ways of worshipping God. After the manner of the Jews, God is worshipped here in a Synagogue, which bears the type of Egyptian architecture; Saturday is their Sunday. The body of the building is occupied by the males; the gallery by the females. Opposite to the gallery is a very beautiful mahogany Ark, over which are placed the Ten Commandments, in Hebrew characters cut in white marble.
The grand, massive and magnificent French Cathedral presents the Gothic style of architecture; it is said to cover an acre of ground, and will seat ten thousand persons. Here the meek and lowly Nazarene is worshipped in a grand, showy, and imposing manner. The monster bell with others in the high towers above chimes out the call to matins and vespers--to high mass and low mass--to Christenings, marriages and funerals--to fate days and saint days--to feast days and fast days--and many kinds of Sundays. Many other Roman Catholic churches raise their pointed spires Heavenward, throughout the city. The :French College, several Nunneries Seminaries, and Friar's schools, all have chapels attached, where their occupants worship, and teach their own peculiar tenets.
All the Protestant sects and their secedings have elegant churches, and worship in their way, and hold to their tenets just as tenaciously as do the Romans--and why should they not?
Here too, worship the quiet, unpretending Unitarians, in a plain, inviting church, but to whom the hand of Christian fellowship is not extended, on account of their belief in a unity of the God-head "Who shall judge between us?"
The houses are mostly of cut greyish lime-stone, massive, chaste and elegant; but there are many wooden houses, and marks of the old French town, besides squalid habitations, which fires will renovate.
Here come ships from the mighty ocean and distant seas, large river steamers, and a variety of smaller water craft. Here can be seen riches, honor, fashion, ease, and equipage; also labor, poverty, toil, rags, and degradation.
The mountain is mostly covered with forest trees; at its base, on gentle risings, flourish hundreds of acres of productive fruit trees--the apples are of the choicest and richest kind--and splendid gardens--and here are elegant retired dwellings. A ride round the mountain, seven miles, is a fascinating rarity to the stranger, who will be anxious to take a full view of the Governor's place as he passes it, and the Priest's farm, from whence can be seen scores of black attired priests and monks walking to and from the city. When on the top of the mountain the city is spread out down before you like a map, with its busy thousands; the masts of the shipping rise up from the blue waters of the majestic river; while beyond, as far as eye can see, can be seen a view of country dotted with habitations and church spires, and bounded by the distant blue mountains. The whole scenery is grand, rich, and enchanting. Late improvements and the mammoth bridge which spans the noble St. Lawrence, I cannot describe.
During most of the time of our residence in Montreal, my husband was engaged in teaching the Free School, or an academy of his own. I assisted him in the primary department what my health would allow. We boarded until the fall of 1847; then we went to housekeeping. In the Winter a little daughter was made welcome, and blessed our home. Time rolled on; the mental wear of teaching brought my husband to the decision of dropping it, and choosing some business that would give him more stir in Heaven's pure air. I was willing to comply with his decision, but still I loved to dwell in the city,--its beautiful locality, its grand and picturesque scenery, the comfort and elegance of its homes, the refined society, and the very many attractions to kind and affectionate friends, all bound me with cords which were pleasant and agreeable to my nature,--but my path led out of the city.
Long after, I vainly hoped, and even prayed that some favorable turn in fortune would give me back a home in Montreal. And now, I often spend hours here in my lonely home, reviewing the many pleasant, happy seasons, and profitable too, that I spent there,--seasons of departed joys,
"Departed never to return."
In July, 1852, we left Montreal and came to St. Lawrence Co. In January, of 1853, a little son was given us, fondly welcomed as a lovely morn. He soon became the hope and pride of his parents' hearts. For two years my husband took book and paper agencies, which caused him to travel. I and my children boarded and visited during the time. In 1854, we went to live on the farm here in the town of Stockholm, from whence we started to meet you in St. Louis, as you already know.
My Dear Friend--As you also desire to know something of the early history of my dear, departed husband, I will begin by giving you a genealogy of the Colt family, as my husband traced and noted it from records kept in the family, previous to our emigrating to Kansas.
Sir John Colt, a Peer in England in Cromwell's day, headed his country's troops in the civil wars; had three horses killed under him; broke his sword in action, but replacing it gained the victory. From this circumstance came the Colts' coat of arms, emblematical of his exploits in this action. In the convulsions which followed, he lost his titles and estates, which were, however, restored to his son, Sir Peter Colt.
Sir Peter Colt, son of Sir John, remained Peer of the Realm. For the next four generations, I can only trace the family through the line that came to America.
John Colt, son of Sir Peter.
John Colt, son of John, and grandson of Sir Peter.
John Colt, son of John, and great-grandson of Sir Peter.
John Colt, son of John, and great great grandson of Sir Peter. He left Colchester, England, at the early age of eleven, and came to Hartford, Conn., in the early settlement of New England. Here he remained, an apprentice, until of age; he then removed to Windsor, Conn., where he married. From him alone sprung the Colt families in the U.S.A. His children were Abraham, John, Jabez and Joseph.
Abraham settled in Windsor, and had but a small family.
John, Jabez and Joseph, moved to Lyme, Conn. The last two had no issue. I am unable to state the year of John's death; it is said he reached the advanced age of 105.
John Colt, second son of John, born about 1657, settled in Lyme, Conn.; married Mary Lord; had two sons, Samuel and Benjamin; had several daughters, who married and raised respectable families. He died about 1750, aged 93.
Samuel had three children, one only of whom had issue; his eldest son, named after himself, has a large posterity. The father above mentioned read the Bible through in eight days, when above 80 years of age.
Benjamin Colt, eldest son of John, born at Lyme, Conn., about 1701, married Miriam Harris. He had ten children, seven sons and three daughters, viz: John, Joseph, Harris, Benjamin, Jonas, Jabez, Peter; and Mary, Sarah and Temperance. He died aged 56. John, Joseph and Harris lived and died in Lyme, Conn. Benjamin died in Hadley, Mass., 1780. Harris had four sons, Benjamin, Samuel, Elisha and Christopher. James lived and died at Pittsfield, Mass.; had ten sons. Jabez lived and died at Richmond, Mass.; had four sons. Peter lived and died at Patterson, N. J.; had two sons and three daughters. Mary married Dea. Thomas Giddings; Sarah married Joseph Harney; Temperance married Abner Lord. These ten children all raised families that have scattered all over the United States.
John Colt, eldest son of Benjamin, born in Lyme, Ct., in 1725, died 1784, aged 59 years. He had three wives, Mary Lord, Mary Gardner, and Abigail Matson. By his first wife had four children, viz: Esther, John, Miriam, and Amherst. By his second wife, Andrew, Gardner, and Benjamin; and by his third wife, William. Esther married Mathew Peck and raised a large family. John raised a family. Miriam married Joseph Burnam; had a family. All these eight children raised families but Andrew and Gardner, who were drowned at sea.
In 1853, I visited Dea. Wm. Colt, the only survivor of this family. He still lives in Lyme, Ct., on the old homestead that has been in the family for several generations; owns a large property; now lives with his second wife. Her name was Mary Marvin. Has had three children,--two daughters, one son; daughters both dead, never married. His son, William E., in 1853 was not married, and probably never will be; age 56 years, and lives with his father.
Dr. Amherst Colt, fourth child of John, was born at Lyme, Ct., July 27, 1759,--died at Auburn, N. H., Jan. 25.
Was married to Miriam Giddings, Sept. 12, 1784. She was born April 22, 1762, at Hartford, Ct. By her he had the following children, John, born June 10, 1785, died in infancy; John Gardner, born July 15, 1787; Miriam, born April 18, 1789; Abigail, born March 6, 1791; William, born June 8, 1793; Aseneth, born May 1, 1795; Amherst, born May 17, 1797; Mary, born March 9, 1799; Lydia, born March 9,1799; Joseph, born Jan. 22, 1801, died in infancy. His wife, Miriam, died Oct. 29, 1805. He was again married, Sept. 23, 1806, to Mercy Giddings, widow of Jabez Giddings; her maiden name was Mercy Johnson. His second wife survived him several years, but raised no children. Dr. Amherst Colt studied the profession of medicine; was employed as surgeon several months in the American army of the Revolution. Near the close of the war emigrated to Lyme, N. H., which was then very new. Here he followed his profession for several years, but finally gave up his practice and turned his attention to farming, and for many years was an active and useful man in the town of Lyme. It was here that he raised his children, buried his wife and married again. He removed to Auburn, N. H., four or five years before his death, lived with his son William, and here died. His three sons and five daughters, who reached adult age, raised families.
John Gardner married Mary Smith, Jan. 20, 1813.* You know, my friend, that John G. Colt was my husband's father, and that he died in Kansas, Sept. 5, 1856.
My husband was born in Lyme, N. H., July 31, 1816. His parents had six children, of whom only one is living, Mary. They came to Parishville, St. Lawrence Co., N. Y., when my husband was but six years old. There he lived, working with his father on a farm, until he commenced his education; then he studied, taught school, and worked on the farm in the Summer season. He graduated at the St. Lawrence Academy of Potsdam, N.Y., in 1838, under Asa Brainerd, Principal at that time, as a teacher of all the English branches of education. He then intended to go South to teach; but a fond mother persuaded, and his sympathy being large, he put off the day, teaching Winters, and working the farm Summers, until he went to Montreal, in 1842, as you know; and you also know that he was married to another half in 1845. I could write pages delineating his many virtues; but as you saw him under very trying circumstances, and read him, it is not necessary. His scholarship has been noted by many as having been excellent,--and his memory, to me, is as sweet as the "nectar which the gods do sip."
Our Miriam Louisa Colt was born in Montreal, Dec. 22, 1847.
Our William H. Colt Jr., was born in Parishville, Jan. 21, 1853; died at Booneville, Mo., Sept. 14th, 1956, as you already know.