Seeking Quietness in Penn's Woods

 

In the mid-17th century, the rolling hills between Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire were a hotbed for religious radicalism. Following the chaos of the English Civil War, George Fox founded the Religious Society of Friends (the Quakers). Many working-class families—weavers, farmers, shoemakers, and yeomen—abandoned the Church of England in search of a direct, inner connection with God.

Among these early converts were Thomas Holland of Millnehay (in the parish of Heanor, Derbyshire) and his family.

By the 1670s, practicing Quakerism in England was dangerous. The Conventicle Acts made non-Anglican religious assemblies illegal, resulting in heavy fines, loss of property, and imprisonment for refusal to pay church tithes or swear oaths.

When Quaker leader William Penn acquired the charter for Pennsylvania in 1681 as a sanctuary for persecuted dissenters, the Hollands and their extended family seized the opportunity. Between late 1682 and 1683, Thomas Holland, his daughter Mary, and his son-in-law John Hallowell packed their belongings, obtained certificates of removal from their local Quaker Monthly Meetings, and boarded a ship for the Delaware River.

Upon arrival, they first settled near Darby (Chester/Delaware County) before pushing slightly north to establish permanent roots in Abington (Montgomery County)—where they cleared land, built timber homes, and established the famous Abington Friends Meeting.

Generation-by-Generation Biographical Notes

GEN 1: Thomas Holland (c. 1616 – 1689)

• Birth: c. 1616, Minhay / Millnehay (in the parish of Heanor), Derbyshire, England.
• Death: 9 December 1689, Darby / Delaware County, Pennsylvania.
• Spouse: Mary Fox (c. 1633 – 1657/1683).

Historical Context & Life Notes:

• The English Origins: "Minhay" is a historical spelling for Millnehay (Millhay), a hamlet in the Erewash valley near Heanor, Derbyshire. Thomas was a yeoman farmer/tradesman in this region.
• Quaker Conviction: The Mansfield and Derby Monthly Meeting records show that Thomas Holland and his wife Mary were steadfast Quakers by the 1670s. When their daughter Mary married John Hallowell in 1675, Thomas and Mary provided a written certificate of parental consent to the Mansfield Meeting.
• The Immigration (1682/1683): Thomas Holland immigrated to Pennsylvania during the peak period of William Penn’s "Holy Experiment." He traveled along with or shortly after his son-in-law John Hallowell and daughter Mary.
• Life in Pennsylvania: Settling in the Darby area, Thomas lived out his final years among the early Quaker pioneers of Chester (now Delaware) County, dying in late 1689.

GEN 2: Mary Sarah Holland (1651 – 1701)

• Birth: 8 February 1651, Millnehay, Derbyshire, England.
• Death: 11 November 1701, Abington, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania.
• Spouse: John Hallowell (c. 1647 – 1706). Married 27 December 1675 at Mansfield Quaker Meeting, Nottinghamshire.

Historical Context & Life Notes:

• Marriage Record: The entry in the Minutes of the Quarterly Meeting at Mansfield (dated 27th of 10th month [December] 1675) reads:
  "John Hallowell of Hucknall, Nottinghamshire, and Mary Holland of Millnepney, in Derbyshire, declared their intention of marriage."
• Emigration & Certificate: John and Mary Hallowell were granted a Quaker Certificate of Removal from the Derby Monthly Meeting on 19 December 1682. The certificate testified to their honest character:
• "He being within ye compas Meetinge... we know concerning him, of his behaviour & manner of Life... which has been so we know soberly, and honestly..."
• Settling Abington: After landing in Pennsylvania, the family initially lived at Darby, where John worked as a land-clearing farmer and builder. In 1696, John purchased 630 acres of wilderness land in Abington Township (now modern Glenside/Abington area). He initially built a stone and timber dug-out/cabin against a hillside where the family lived while establishing their farm.
• Legacy: Mary survived the hardship of crossing the Atlantic and building two pioneer homesteads from scratch before her passing in 1701 in Abington.

GEN 3: Thomas Hallowell (1679 – 1734)

• Birth: 6 July 1679 (6th day, 5th month 1679), Hucknall Torkard, Nottinghamshire, England.
• Death: 14 December 1734, Abington, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania.
• Spouse: Rosamond Till (1677 – 1745). Married 12 March 1701 at Darby Monthly Meeting, Pennsylvania.

Historical Context & Life Notes:

• Childhood Voyage: Thomas was just a 3- or 4-year-old toddler when his parents (John Hallowell and Mary Holland) made the dangerous Atlantic crossing in 1682/1683.
• Building Colonial Pennsylvania: Growing up on the family lands in Abington, Thomas became a prosperous farmer, landholder, and active member of the Abington Friends Meeting.
• The Next Generation: His marriage to Rosamond Till connected the family to another prominent Quaker immigrant line (the Tills of Staffordshire). Their children—including William Hallowell (1707–1793), who married Margaret Tyson—went on to become influential millers, blacksmiths, and landowners along the historic Old York Road leading into Philadelphia.

Research & Name Notes

1. Millnehay Location: In early Quaker records, "Millnepney," "Minhay," and "Millnehay" all refer to Millhay/Millnehay, a small settlement in Derbyshire right on the Nottinghamshire border.
2. Calendar Reminder: Early Quaker records used the Julian calendar (where March was the 1st Month). When reading dates like "27 10mo 1675," the 10th month was December, not October.

Thank you Gemini AI for your wisdom and research assistance. -- Drifting Cowboy

Hello Olivia, I hope you make the connection.

Algorithms vs. Ancestry: Uncovering Our Real Connection to President Thomas Jefferson

 

Regular readers of this blog know I’ve always had a deep appreciation for the tapestry of early American history. Among the Founding Fathers, President Thomas Jefferson has always stood out to me. Beyond his role as the primary author of the Declaration of Independence, the visionary behind the Louisiana Purchase, and the champion of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, he was an architect, polymath, and key figure in shaping the American experiment.

When hints pop up in online databases suggesting a close family connection to a figure like Jefferson, it’s always exciting. But as any seasoned family historian knows, you have to separate the enthusiasm of automated computer algorithms from the hard truth of the actual paper trail.

Recently, I decided to put our alleged connection to Thomas Jefferson under the genealogical microscope. What I found was a great lesson in why we double-check the receipts—and how our real connection turned out to be far more fascinating.

The "5th Cousin" Myth and Algorithmic Trap

Not long ago, automated hints on family tree platforms began pointing to a seemingly quick shortcut between our family and Jefferson. The algorithm claimed we were 5th cousins, 8x removed, linked through a colonial New England ancestor named William Brett and a crossover in the Hayward family of Massachusetts.

It sounded great on paper, but when you dig into 18th-century town records, the shortcuts start to crumble:

1. The Hayward Conflation: Colonial Massachusetts was full of families with the exact same names living just a few miles apart. The algorithm had merged two completely different men named Joseph Hayward—one from Concord and one from Braintree.
2. Virginia Tree Errors: On Jefferson’s side, the automated tree incorrectly assigned parents to Henry Isham of Virginia and skipped an entire generation involving the famous Randolph family of Turkey Island.
3. Unproven Links: Connecting our ancestor Zephaniah Rogers (born in Mendon, MA, in 1746) back through the Plymouth/Bridgewater Hayward lines simply didn't hold up under strict record analysis.

In genealogy, an unproven link breaks the chain. Computer algorithms love to connect dots based on matching names and overlapping dates, but true family history requires proving every single link.

Our Real Connection: The Royal Bridge Across the Atlantic

Once we set aside the broken shortcut, we turned to our verified paper trail—specifically through my grandmother, Lydia Corinna Brown.

Following her line back through documented colonial land deeds, probate records, and peerage history, we don't cross paths with Jefferson in the tobacco fields of colonial Virginia. Instead, our lines merge across the ocean in 14th-century England.

Our shared ancestors are John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster (1340–1399)—the son of King Edward III—and his wife, Katherine Swynford.

                    John of Gaunt & Katherine Swynford

                                       │

         ┌──────────────────────────────────┐

         ▼                                                     ▼

    Joan Beaufort                                         John Beaufort

         │                                                     │

         ▼ (Through Randolph line)                    ▼ (Through Urquhart/Brown line)

  Jane Randolph                                        Lydia Corinna Brown

         │                                                     │

  Thomas Jefferson                                     Our Family Lineage

Here is how the sibling branches split:

• Thomas Jefferson’s Line: Descends through their daughter, Joan Beaufort (c. 1379–1440), whose lineage leads directly into the prominent Randolph family of Virginia, bringing us down to Jefferson's mother, Jane Randolph.
• Our Family's Line: Descends through her full brother, John Beaufort, 1st Earl of Somerset (c. 1373–1410), whose descendants eventually crossed the Atlantic to plant our own roots in early New England.

Because Joan Beaufort and John Beaufort were full siblings, John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford are our shared direct ancestors.

This makes President Thomas Jefferson our 12th cousin, 7x removed.

Reflections from the Trail

While being 12th cousins isn't quite as close as a 5th cousin match, it carries something far more valuable: it is historically solid.

Every step along the Beaufort-to-Brown line is backed by centuries of established, peer-reviewed records. We may not share recent Virginia soil with the author of the Declaration of Independence, but knowing that our family tree intertwines with his back at the same medieval English hearth makes American history feel just a little more personal.

Genealogy isn't about collecting famous names just to add them to a chart—it's about honoring the truth of where we come from. The next time an automated hint pops up promising a famous relative, take it with a grain of salt, roll up your sleeves, and follow the real trail!

Happy trails and happy hunting to all my fellow family historians out there.

Thank you Gemini AI for your wisdom and research assistance. -- Drifting Cowboy

“My hand trembles, but my heart does not!”

 

Stephen Hopkins (1707–1785) was a prominent Founding Father from Rhode Island, a key early advocate for colonial rights, and one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence.

Key Highlights of His Life

• Early Life: Born March 7, 1707, in Providence (area now part of Cranston/Scituate), Rhode Island, to William Hopkins and Ruth Wilkinson. He grew up on a family farm, was largely self-educated through voracious reading, and was influenced by his mother’s Quaker background (though he wasn’t formally a Quaker until later in life).

• Career and Public Service: He served multiple terms as Governor of Rhode Island (elected nine or ten times across the 1750s–1760s), Chief Justice of the Rhode Island Supreme Court, Speaker of the General Assembly, and the first chancellor of what became Brown University. He was also involved in surveying, mercantile pursuits, and even astronomical observations (e.g., the 1769 transit of Venus).

• Revolutionary Role: A decade before the Revolution, he authored The Rights of the Colonies Examined (1764), a strong critique of British policies like the Sugar and Stamp Acts, arguing against taxation without representation. He attended the Albany Congress (1754) and the Continental Congresses (1774–1776). At age 69, he was the second-oldest signer of the Declaration of Independence (after Benjamin Franklin). Due to a neurological condition (often described as cerebral palsy or a similar tremor), his hand shook as he signed, and he famously said something like: “My hand trembles, but my heart does not.”

• Personal Life: Married Sarah Scott in 1726 (they had seven children, several of whom survived to adulthood); after her death, he married Anne Smith in 1755. He died July 13, 1785, in Providence and is buried in the North Burial Ground. His home in Providence still stands as a historic site.

He came from established Rhode Island colonial families on both sides—his father’s line tied to early Providence settlers (including connections to Roger Williams’ circle), and his mother’s Wilkinson side also prominent.

Our Genealogical Connection

Our lineage traces correctly through the Smith family:

   • Common Ancestor: Christopher Smith (c. 1595–1676).

• His daughter Susannah Smith (1621–1692) → Ruth Wilkinson (1685–1731) → Stephen Hopkins.
• His son Simon Smith (immigrant/founder of Haddam, CT, 1628–1687) → Benjamin Smith → Daniel Smith → Lt. William Smith → Esther Smith → Smith Bailey → Orange Bailey → David Solomon Bailey → David Jackson Bailey → Franklin Jackson Bailey (our grandfather).

This makes Stephen Hopkins our 2nd cousin 9 times removed, as noted. The Smith line splits in the 17th century between Rhode Island/Providence connections (via Susannah) and the Connecticut Haddam branch (via Simon, one of the early settlers there).

Weaving Stephen Hopkins into our Bailey Line

Celebrating America 250

In the early 1600s, as the New World called to brave souls seeking new beginnings, Christopher Smith left his mark on two emerging colonies through his children. One branch carried his blood into the wilds of Connecticut’s Connecticut River valley, where his son Simon helped found the town of Haddam. There, generation after generation of Smiths—Benjamin, Daniel, William, Esther, and the Baileys who followed—put down roots, farmed the land, raised families, and built lives that eventually led to our grandfather, Franklin Jackson Bailey. These were the steady hands tilling soil, raising barns, and passing down stories of resilience in a young America.

Meanwhile, Christopher’s daughter Susannah’s line wove into Rhode Island’s vibrant tapestry. Through her daughter Ruth Wilkinson, the family helped shape the fiery spirit of independence in Providence and Scituate. It was Ruth’s son—our distant cousin Stephen Hopkins—who rose to become one of the boldest voices against British tyranny. A farmer’s son turned statesman, governor, judge, and scholar, Stephen stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Franklin, Jefferson, and Adams in Philadelphia. With a trembling hand but an unwavering heart, he signed the Declaration of Independence, declaring that the colonies would no longer bow to taxes without representation.

Imagine the threads of that shared Smith ancestry quietly connecting our Bailey forebears in their Connecticut and later journeys with Stephen’s world in Rhode Island. While our direct line cleared fields and built communities farther west or inland, Cousin Stephen was in the halls of power, penning pamphlets that stirred a revolution and helping birth a nation. He championed education (as Brown University’s first chancellor), navigated colonial politics, and lived the Quaker-influenced values of plain speaking and liberty that echoed in many early American families.

Today, discovering Stephen feels like uncovering a hidden chapter in our family’s American epic—a bridge between the everyday pioneers who sustained the young republic and the towering figures who defined its founding ideals. He’s not just a famous name in a history book; he’s proof that our lineage has helped steer the course of freedom since the very beginning. From Christopher Smith’s immigrant dreams to the Baileys of the 19th and 20th centuries, and to us today, the blood of independence runs deep.

Thank you Grok xAI for your wisdom and research assistance. -- Drifting Cowboy

The Ferry at the Edge of War: John and Mary Tripp's Crossroads of History (1676)

 

In the tense summer of 1676, amid the brutal height of King Philip's War—New England's deadliest conflict per capita—Tripp's Ferry (later Bristol Ferry) emerged from obscurity into the historical record. This modest crossing on Aquidneck Island's western shore, operated by John Tripp and his wife Mary Paine Tripp from their small 3-acre homestead in Portsmouth, Rhode Island, became a vital artery for colonial forces. 

Captain Benjamin Church, the innovative "first American Ranger" and premier Indian fighter of his day, used the ferry in his relentless pursuit of Wampanoag sachem Metacomet (known to the English as King Philip). Church's mixed company of English volunteers and Native allies crossed here, gathering intelligence and pressing toward Mount Hope (in present-day Bristol). At daylight on the morning of August 12, 1676, they surrounded the swamp where Philip was encamped. One of Church's allies, John Alderman, fired the fatal shot. Philip's death effectively ended the war, though the conflict had already devastated both Native and colonial communities across the region. 

Church's own narrative provides the first known mention of "Tripp's Ferry," describing how his men used the crossing and interacted with a Native deserter who offered to guide them to Philip in exchange for revenge against his brother's killers. The ferry wasn't just a backdrop—it was a logistical lifeline in a fluid, swamp-and-forest guerrilla war where Church pioneered mobile ranger tactics that contrasted with more conventional (and often less effective) colonial approaches.

The Operators: From Indentured Servant and Barmaid to Ferry Keepers

John Tripp (b. 1610 in Horkstow, Lincolnshire, England; d. 1678 in Portsmouth) arrived in the colonies as an indentured servant, possibly to a ship's carpenter. He gained freedom, signed the Portsmouth Compact as a freeman, and built a life as a farmer, town servant, and boatman. He held roles like inspecting cattle, serving on the Governor’s Council (1670), and acting as Town Moderator (1673). By the 1650s–60s, he gradually became the go-to ferryman, using his boats for transport across the bay. 

Mary Paine Tripp (c. 1611–1687) had her own enterprising story. In 1666, as a barmaid at William Baulston’s Tavern in Portsmouth, she acquired the key 3-acre lot overlooking the future ferry site from Richard Searl in exchange for a single pint of wine (a transaction later ratified by the town council based on witness testimony). She and John married around 1639 and raised a large family (at least 10–11 children). Mary helped run the ferry operation; after John's death in 1678, she inherited his boats and received a license in 1679 to sell food and drink to travelers—possibly turning their home into an informal tavern. This full-circle moment tied back to her tavern days. 

Their homestead and ferry represented the gritty reality of early colonial life: starting in dugouts or simple thatched homes, farming, serving in the militia, and seizing entrepreneurial opportunities in a new settlement founded amid religious and political dissent (Portsmouth's ties to Anne Hutchinson's followers).

Lasting Legacy and Family Line

The ferry landing on the Aquidneck side grew into a major transportation hub connecting Newport and Providence. It served notables like George Washington, Lafayette, and Rochambeau during the Revolutionary era. Before bridges, ferries like Tripp's (and nearby Borden's) were essential for commerce, livestock, and military movement. 

Our direct lineage through daughter Alice Tripp (1650–1710) → John Hall → Preserved Hall → Capt. Caleb Hall → Frances S. Hall → Waity Gardner carries this story forward through Rhode Island's farming and maritime communities into the early American republic. Captain Caleb Hall's own military service in later conflicts echoes the frontier resilience of his Tripp ancestors.

Shadows at the Water’s Edge: The Ferry That Helped End a War

Celebrating America 250

August 1676. The air over Mount Hope Bay hangs heavy with the sharp tang of salt marsh, woodsmoke, and the faint, metallic scent of fear. King Philip’s War has scorched New England for over a year—villages burned, families slaughtered on both sides, and the once-powerful Wampanoag confederation driven into hiding. In the pre-dawn gloom, oars creak rhythmically against thole pins as a boat cuts through the dark water at Tripp’s Ferry. Waves lap against the hull with a soft, insistent slap. On the Aquidneck Island shore, lanterns flicker like wary eyes.

Captain Benjamin Church, lean and weathered from months of relentless ranging through swamps and forests, steps ashore with his mixed band of English volunteers and Native allies. Boots sink slightly into the muddy landing. Muskets clink, powder horns rattle, and low voices murmur in English and Algonquian. A deserter from Philip’s camp—eager for revenge—had hallooed from the opposite shore earlier, signaling his willingness to guide them. The ferryman’s modest homestead nearby shows signs of life: a thin thread of smoke from the chimney, the lowing of cattle, and the scent of baking cornbread or porridge wafting on the breeze. 

This is no ordinary crossing. Tripp’s Ferry—little more than a rough landing, a sturdy boat or two, and a 3-acre homestead—has become a critical artery in the final hunt for Metacomet (King Philip). By daylight on the morning of August 12, 1676, Church’s force will have encircled the sachem’s swamp encampment. One of Church’s Indian allies, John Alderman, will fire the shot that ends the war’s most famous leader. Philip’s body will later be quartered in grim ritual, his head displayed on a pike in Plymouth—a brutal punctuation to years of bloodshed.

The Keepers of the Crossing: John and Mary Tripp

John Tripp (1610–1678), once an indentured servant from Lincolnshire, England, now stands as a respected ferryman, farmer, and town leader. At 66, his hands are calloused from years of oars, plows, and cattle inspections. He knows every current and sandbar in the bay. On mornings like this, he likely helps pole or row the heavily laden boat himself, muscles straining as the vessel fights the tide. The war has brought uneasy traffic: messengers, militiamen, refugees, and the constant worry of raids. His signature on the Portsmouth Compact years earlier marked him as a freeman in a colony born of dissent; now his ferry helps decide its survival. 

His wife, Mary Paine Tripp (c. 1611–1687), embodies the tough pragmatism of frontier women. Once a barmaid at Baulston’s Tavern, she famously acquired their strategic 3-acre lot in 1666 for nothing more than a pint of wine. In the dim light of their home, she might be stirring the fire, preparing food for travelers, or keeping watch over their large brood of children. The air inside carries the smell of woodsmoke, herbs, and tallow candles. After John’s death two years later, Mary will inherit the boats and earn a license to sell food and drink—turning the ferry house into a makeshift tavern. Her resourcefulness keeps the family and the crossing alive. 

Imagine the scene at the landing: the crunch of boots on shells and gravel, the nervous whinny of horses waiting to be ferried, the distant call of seabirds. Tension crackles—every shadow in the treeline could hide an ambush. For the Tripps, this is not abstract history. It is another demanding day: ferrying armed men while tending livestock, mending nets, and praying the war’s violence stays on the far shore. Rhode Island tried to remain neutral, but its lands still echoed with raids, displaced families, and the smoke of burning farms.

Echoes Through Generations

From this modest ferry landing, your lineage flows onward: through daughter Alice Tripp (1650–1710) and into the Hall and Gardner lines—Preserved Hall, Capt. Caleb Hall, Frances S. Hall, and Waity Gardner. Each generation carries forward the resilience forged at the water’s edge: farmers, captains, and community builders in a young America.

The ferry itself outlived the Tripps. It evolved into Bristol Ferry, a bustling hub where George Washington, Lafayette, and Rochambeau would later cross during the Revolution. Today, the site whispers of those early days—the slap of water, the creak of wood, and the quiet courage of ordinary people caught in extraordinary times.

Thank you Grok xAI for your wisdom, research and narrative assistance. -- Drifting Cowboy