The Hall Family.—The immigration and settlement of this family in Elmira have been so ably dealt with by Mrs. Shallenberger, a daughter of one of the pioneers, the writer finds it only necessary to add to the original, a sketch of the late Mrs. Ann Hall, and one rewritten from Mr. Moffit's notes, of Robert Hall. Mrs. Shallenberger says: " The Halls, of whom I write, are directly descended from Thomas Hall and Sarah, his wife, nee Cokayne, of Hulland, Derbyshire, England. There they once formed a large and vigorous family, brothers and sisters a dozen in number, living to pass the meridian of life an unbroken band. 'Mansel Park,' the old English homestead, is still enshrined in the memory of the farthest wanderer of them all. At different times during the years 1836, 1837, and 1838, nine of these brothers and sisters crossed the sea, and settled in what is now Stark county, Illinois. The first installment was Robert and his sister Mary, William and his wife Anne. Next came Langley, by the way of New Orleans, that he might at less expense bring with him a few tine sheep and dogs with which to begin life in the new world. He suffered shipwreck off the Florida coast, but after being reduced to great straits of hunger and fatigue was in common with his shipmates rescued, and he finally arrived at the Osceola settlement. Then in 1837, came Thomas, with his wife and four children, bringing also with him his aged father, Elizabeth (Mrs. Harvey), her husband and five children. Some months later, John, George and Fanny, accompanied by Miss Sarah Ligo, who shortly afterwards married Langley Hall. After about twenty years' residence here, John Langley and George, lured by promises of a more desirable climate, again took up the line of march westward, and settled upon the farther slope of the Rocky mountains, where they still reside. Mary became the wife of Mr. Orrin Hasard of Neponset, Bureau county, Ill.; and Fanny, the youngest of the family, married Hon. Joseph Harris, of Boyd's Grove, in the same county. Mrs. Harvey and William rest beside their father in the family burial ground at Osceola, while their mother sleeps beneath the sea. At this writing, in 1876, Thomas and Robert and the widow of William, alone remain to Stark county of those who were adult at the date of the first emigration. Their father was a plain, sturdy Englishman, of tall stature and rugged features; in faith, a Methodist, and contemporary with John Wesley and Adam Clark; in politics a radical; making no pretension to aristocratic tastes or descent, he was yet a man of strong common sense and strict integrity. But in their mother's veins ran gentler blood. Her progenitors had come from Normandy with the 'conqueror;' some old writers say were allied to him. but however that may be, they carried his banners on the bloody field of Hastings, and were rewarded, for their valor by princely gifts of land and honors. They seem to have been ever an eminently loyal race, always fighting for or with their king. A great grandson of the Cokayne knighted at the 'taking' of Edinburg was Sir Ashton Cokayne. But in 1780, or thereabout, the male line of this old family became extinct, two sisters only being heirs to the traditions of the Cokaynes of Derbyshire.* These sisters became in course of time, Mrs. Earp and Mrs. Hall. Thus the old name was extinct, or preserved only as a prefix among their descendants, and it is curious to observe that few of them have failed to pay this sly tribute to pride of blood, even in the midst of a republicanism that professes to sneer at such distinctions. The marriage between Thomas Hall and Sarah Cokayne, occurred probably in 1797. In 1837 this aged couple set sail for America, in company with the family of Dr. Thomas Hall, and their eldest daughter, Mrs. Harvey; but the weary sea voyage of over six weeks' duration was too much for the already failing health of Mrs. Hall, who sunk from exhaustion induced by excessive sea sickness, a few days before the vessel reached the harbor of New York. The recollections of that sad funeral can never fade from the memories of those who witnessed it, even in their early childhood, or the aged husband's last tribute to the virtues of his wife, wrung from his breaking heart as she was carried past him on the ship-deck, all shrouded in sail-cloth and weighted, preparatory to her burial beneath the sea. These were his words: 'Farewell, thou best of women.' The solemn rites of the English church were performed over one who had always loved them well. The body was then reverently lowered to the surface of the waves which silently closed over it and told no tales of sorrow. The remainder of this group of emigrants with smitten hearts pursued their journey toward a land of strangers. Passing up the lovely Hudson, its banks clothed in all the freshness of early summer, they came to Albany, thence to Buffalo by the Erie canal, then by steam to Cleveland, from Cleveland to Portsmouth by Ohio canal, affain to Cairo and St. Louis by so-called steamboats, but which were hardly more than a caricature of the boats that have since plied our western waters. Our travelers left St. Louis on the 'Swift Sure (?)' on Friday morning, and did not reach Peoria until Tuesday night. They passed Alton on Sunday morning as people were going to church, and on Monday morning were still just above the city tied to a tree! as through some defect in her engine the Swift Sure could not stem the current and there was danger of her being drifted back during the night. So much for the pleasures of traveling in 1837. But Peoria was finally reached on the night of July 4, and the emigrants learned something, new to them, of the confusion and disorder following a celebration of Independence day. Several days passed ere teams could be secured and drivers sober enough to manage them, to convey the two families and their effects to Wyoming, their ultimate goal being Osceola Grove. Peoria was then but a hamlet on the lake. A half-built hotel on the corner of Main and Water streets, kept by Garrett, afforded shelter to strangers. On the evening of July the 8th, the two families, and Thomas Hall, sr., arrived at the house of General Thomas, at Wyoming, and had seen but one log hut since leaving Peoria. Early on the morning of the 9th, the doctor hired a horse of General Thomas, and made his way to 'Vandyke's ford,' there received fresh directions by means of which he found his brother William's cabin in due time. Soon an ox team and big wagon were on their way to Wyoming, and after sundry experiences, novel as trying to the occupants of the big wagon, home was at last reached, and brothers and sisters, parted weary months before in England, were now re- united in Illinois. But the congratulations of what would otherwise have been such a happy meeting, were drowned in tears at mention of their honored mother whom they could no longer even hope to see again on earth.

*John Savage makes the only modern reference to the Cokayne family. On page 51, he says : " At length, in 1794, the arrest and trial of Rev. William Jackson (a Protestant clergyman) drew the suspicions of the English government upon Tone. Jackson. on the representations of an old Irishman named Madget, engaged in the department of foreign affairs at Paris, was sent by the French government to sound the people of Ireland respecting their inclination for French aid. He was accompanied from England by one Cokayne, an English attorney, to whom be indiscreetly opened his mind, being seduced by the lawyer's apparent truth. With Wolfe Tone, as the chief mind of the revolutionary parties, Jackson had many conferences; but Tone, disgusted "with the rash confidence placed in Cokayne. never spoke in the presence of that person. 'This business,' said be to Jackson, 'is one thing for us Irishmen, but the Englishman who engages in it must be a traitor or a common informer.' As Tone foresaw, the Englishman was as he thought he was. Jackson was arrested on his information, and by his death proved his truth to that cause which he so foolishly jeopardized.'"—Ed.

"We must now go back in the order of time some eighteen months, or to February, 1836, when the first installment of this family sailed for the new world, and, as might be expected, met even greater obstacles and privations in the course of their journey than were encountered by the second group, to which we have briefly alluded, as at this period of history every subsequent year rendered emigration easier and pleasanter; some one has said 'a winter passage of the Atlantic is but a short cut to a watery grave,' and too often it proves so, even in these days of improved navigation. Let those who can, imagine its horrors in 1836, before the invention of ocean steamers, and when the financial ruin that had overtaken this family compelled them to content themselves with cheap accommodations on a sailing vessel. Head winds and rough seas made their voyage unusually tedious, and when in mid ocean, they encountered icebergs chat threatened certain destruction. But after over seven weeks buffeting with the waves, they anchored in the harbor of New York. Mrs. William Hall had an uncle in Pennsylvania who made a quiet resting place for them, but after recruiting for a little while, they resumed their journey westward, crossing the mountains by a 'horse railway,' .a means of transit that had new terrors for the women, at least. At Pittsburg they took a boat down the Ohio. They had reason to fear they had been exposed to small-pox, and soon discovered that two of their party (Robert and Mary) had fallen victims to this terrible malady. This was a sad trial to these strangers in a strangle land; they feared to have their condition known lest they should be summarily set ashore and abandoned to their fate. So they nursed their sick as quietly as possible, asking aid from no one, until the boat exploded one of her cylinders, scalding two engineers to death, and filling every nook and corner with hot steam; then the sick were snatched from their berths and hurried on deck, not knowing what shape death would meet them. But so great was the excitement on board, that although the faces of the sufferers were then a mass of eruption, no one seemed to notice them, and they crept back to their beds without experiencing any serious results from their fright and exposure. By the time they reached St. Louis they were able to pass muster without attracting attention, and arrived in Peoria early in the month of June, 1836, all in passable health. On the boats they had made the acquaintance of Archibald and Charlie Vandyke and Brady Fowler. These men were all in search of homes in the west; so a common interest made them friends. When the Halls left England they all looked toward Jacksonville as a place of residence, but for some reason changed their minds. While at Peoria they met with those who recommended the Osceola region highly. Major Moore, Watts and Spencer had just completed the original survey. Messrs. Buswell and Winslow had been to the grove, made claims, built cabins, and then returned for a time to Peoria. Under directions from Moore, the Hall and Vandyke brothers started early in June to walk across the pathless prairies that then stretched from Mount Hawley to Wyoming. After resting at Wyoming for a short time, as did nearly all who journeyed this way in those days, and being refreshed by a good meal, they proceeded toward the grove.

Here they found several families encamped, some sheltering in cabins half built. Among these were Mr. William Parks; he had moved from Virginia with his teams, had a huge boat-shaped wagon, drawn by four stout horses, one of which he rode, postillion fashion, when on the road. He also owned a 'carry-all' that cut quite a figure in the social life of that neighborhood for many years. The Hall brothers hired this man, his big wagon and team to return with them to Peoria after the women and goods, the latter only amounting to fourteen large boxes.

"Since the men had left Peoria a drove of cattle had passed through, and Anne and Mary each bought a cow. So now they loaded up— women and goods in the wagon, Mr. Parks on his horse, and the men on foot to drive the stock. They provided themselves with bread and cheese for refreshment at noon, fully expecting to enjoy supper and bed at the house of General Thomas, at Wyoming. The wagon was covered, and so fully loaded that the women had to sit in a constrained and uncomfortable position, and would often have preferred to have walked for a time, but as the grass was nearly to their waists and they had an English horror of snakes, this was a poor relief. The day wore slowly away; they were all very weary, the horses often floundering in treacherous sloughs, the wagon rocking like a ship at sea, while the driver hallooed to his team in a manner that startled, almost frightened those unaccustomed to such sights and sounds, but still no Wyoming dawned upon their anxious eyes. At length night came on, the team was exhausted, the driver confessed himself lost, and there was no alternative but to wait the dawning of another day upon the open prairie. The horses ate eagerly of the grass around them, the women crept faint and hungry under the shelter of the wagon cover, and the men threw themselves upon the ground beneath. They were all too excited to sleep much; the women's minds were busy thinking of the homes and friends they had left, contrasting the comfort of that life with the hardships of this, for although they had braced their minds to meet bravely whatever befell, yet this was a performance not thought of when the programme was made out. When Mrs. William Hall had in her English home revealed to her mother her plan, to be married shortly, and two weeks thereafter to set out for America, the good woman exclaimed: 'Oh, Anne, you are going to suck down sorrow by the spoonful.' That night on the prairie, and many a night afterwards her daughter remembered those words, and perchance thought them prophetic. When they suspended their journey the lightning was playing about the horizon, and by midnight a storm broke upon them such as they had never conceived of, and such as is rarely witnessed here, of late years. But morning came at last, the ram had ceased, and they started again for Wyoming, or any other point where food and shelter could be obtained, and about ten o'clock a. m., the cabin of General Thomas was reached. Refreshed by a good breakfast and a brief rest, the emigrants again started forward, only to renew the experiences of the previous day with new complications. They first made for Mr. James Holgate's place, and there got directions for Seeley's Point, pretty well to the east of the grove. By this route they hoped to reach the unoccupied cabin of Mr. Buswell, of which they were to take possession until they could build one. But Spoon river must be crossed by a deep and dangerous ford, where the chances were very good that the whole load would capsize down the steep bank into the water, and by the time this difficulty was disposed of, the shades of evening were again closing around them.

"William Hall, who it will be remembered had been over this route but lately, to make his claim, now proposed to leave the party and make his way on foot directly to the cabin, kindle a fire to guide the rest, and have some food in readiness when they arrived. He was spurred on to this course, more especially as his young wife was already ailing under the combined strain of fatigue and excitement, and he feared if rest and refreshment could not soon be procured she would be seriously ill. He succeeded in carrying-out his part of the contract without much difficulty, and by nightfall a bright fire was blazing on the rude hearth of the cabin. But no wagon put in an appearance, and the solitary watcher looked and listened in vain for any sight or sound of the wanderers. In fact they were far to the northeast of the grove, near where "the town of Osceola was afterwards laid out — the team floundered hopelessly among the big sloughs, and the driver again pretty well confused as to the points of the compass. For miles the women had been driving the cows; Robert aiding the driver and keeping a sharp lookout for signals from William, or for game that would add to the repast if they reached the cabin fire. Mrs. Hall had been slowly growing worse, and finally crawled back into the crowded wagon in blank despair. Robert had been discharging his gun and blowing his bugle, in the vain hope of making somebody hear; but the dull and distant echoes were their only response. At last Mary's quiet courage began to give way, and she turned to the bewildered Mr. Parks, and said: 'For goodness' sake, take us somewhere; another night out now will kill Anne.' ' If there is nowhere to go to, how can I take you ?' curiously enough inquired the poor man. Soon after things had reached this crisis, somebody noted a glimmer near the western horizon; at first they feared it was but a star, but as they gradually drew nearer, concluded, not that it was 'a light in the window for thee', for well they knew the home they sought had no windows, but a light issuing from the open door of a cabin. Robert again blew a blast upon his bugle horn, which was answered by a shot from the cabin. So they made their way through the dense wood, over hills and through hollows, over fallen logs and swampy sloughs, and finally, about eleven o'clock p. m., drew up at the cabin door. A bed was soon made for the sick woman, and they carried her in, gave her tea and wine, composed themselves to rest with thankful hearts after their long and perilous journey of nearly five months' duration. And this was the strange coming home, the first 'house-warming' of the Halls in Illinois, and occurred on Friday, June 26, 1836. Mr. Parks went a mile or more to reach his own home. Mrs. Hall slept but little if any that night, and as she was restless and anxious to see what the surroundings were, as soon as day dawned she arose, partially dressed, and quietly slipped out. As may be imagined, all that met her eye was a wild unbroken solitude, nothing save the rude hut that bore the impress of human hands, or that showed a human foot had ever approached the spot. The grass and weeds were tall as herself, and a heavy dew hung on them, glittering in the dawning light like frost-work. Whether overcome by conflicting emotions or by increasing weakness, she knows not, but she swooned and fell. When the men arose they were distressed to find her lying in an unconscious state beside the cabin wall. Again they carried her to her resting place in the corner, administered the best restoratives their circumstances permitted, and hung over her with anxious hearts. She soon rallied and begged them not to be alarmed; she said, 'It was only weakness induced by fatigue.' It was Saturday now, and knowing that the Sturms at Seeley's Point had horses to sell, Robert went to buy a team, which he did, getting Dick and Queen, two horses deservedly famous in the annals of the family for twenty years thereafter. But Mrs. Hall grew worse instead of better, and during the second (Saturday) night, was quite delirious, raving so piteously of past scenes that the courage of all faltered, and on Sunday morning her husband was about starting back to Peoria, only fifty miles away, for a physician. Just then Mr. Parks rode up to inquire after the welfare of the new-comers, especially after the one he had left so sick. They told him their fears; he said what he could to allay them, and advised them not to go to Peoria yet. 'He would fetch Nancy (his wife) who had a good deal of experience among sick folks.' And soon the good woman came, and then and there began a series of ministrations to the sick and suffering for which she has long been held in grateful remembrance. Her knowledge of simple remedies, her words of encouragement and kind attentions in times of affliction were a real boon to the infant settlement. This kind old lady yet lives, having entered her ninety-third year, and an honored old age is hers. 'Her children have risen up to call her blessed,' and though her flesh is subject to many infirmities, yet is her spirit tranquil, and her faith looks steadfastly towards that brighter country, where the inhabitants never say, I am sick.' But to resume our story. Mrs. Hall soon recovered under good and careful nursing, and preparations for building themselves a house went rapidly forward. First, of course, trees must be felled for the logs, and this was awkward work for the Halls, as probably neither of them had ever swung an axe before, at least not such an axe as is used by the American backwoodsman to such advantage. But they worked with a will and whacked away at the trees all round, until by the time they were ready to fall they were literally whittled off to a point. This style of work could be seen as long as the first cabin stood and was the butt of numberless jokes among the neighbors touching the capabilities of Englishmen as woodchoppers! But the logs answered a good purpose, nevertheless; a story-and-half house was raised, a sawpit was dug in which a large two handled saw could be worked, and thus they made their own boards; the tools were unpacked and as William had some practical knowledge of their use, they soon had floors and battened doors, and windows with glass in them, which advantages were almost enough to make them 'take airs' over their neighbors, in those times. This house became a sort of headquarters for all incoming detachments, and if its half floored loft was sometimes so crowded with beds and their occupants, that some luckless wight occasionally made a sudden descent to the next floor, he was pretty sure to find a bed ready to catch him there, so no serious results followed, only some slight re-adjustment to secure safety the balance of the night. Here the weary 'itinerant' always found a home, and the pious of every name a welcome. Within its walls were assembled some of the first congregations that ever met for religious worship in the settlement. Often and again, have roof and rafters rang with the grand old hymns learned across the sea. Denmark' and 'Coronation,' 'Old Hundred' and 'Silver Street,' were 'the familiar paths their souls oft trod towards God.' The clear, full treble of the sisters chorcled well with the deep bass of William's voice and the tones of his great viol, making harmony that would have befitted better surroundings. In recalling this group, Mr. Cummings, the first missionary but lately said, 'They were right loyal Methodists of the true Wesley an type.' And it was William Hall who led the first class, formed at Wall's by this missionary (to which reference is made in another place) seven miles from his home, with an unbridged river intervening, and never missed an appointment in ten years! But the cabin long since gave place to a more modern and commodious structure, and the once familiar name of William Hall lives there no more save in memory, or on sculptured marble. A son who bore it, gave his life for his country in 1862, expiring in a Memphis hospital. Edgar died at White's Station near Memphis in 1863."