Harriet Magruder Muncaster was born to Walter Magruder (1760-abt 1818) and Margaret Orme (abt 1758-aft 1798). On September 25, 1804 she married Zachariah Muncaster (1779-1815). He died in January, 1815, leaving her a young widow of thirty-two years, with three small sons, Walter James (1805-aft 1840), Edwin Magruder (1809-1881) and Otho Zachariah (1814-1893); ten, six and one-year old respectively.
The following is from
Echoes of the Lives of Magruder Matrons
By her grandson William Edwin Muncaster (1839-1922)
Yearbook of the American Clan Gregor Society 1915
“Here was a problem for the young widow; these were left for her to support, educate, and start in life. This she did, and showed the untiring energy of her will and the strength of her character.
In the year 1845 I was living with my parents in Baltimore, being six years old, and had been what they called, in those days, “somewhat ailing”, for some months. The doctor advised that I should be sent to the country to get the fresh air, fruit, and farm fare, and roll on the earth and grass. So my father sent me to my grandmother, this Harriet Magruder Muncaster. Thus I learned to know her fully, as I lived with her on the farm she occupied, for six years, in the most impressible period of life. When I came to her she was sixty-three years old, and as a widow with three sons to prepare for their places in the world, she had fought the battle of life and won. She had educated her sons and they were established, one as a merchant in Baltimore, and one as a merchant in Georgetown. The oldest son was with her, but in very poor health. He had been hurt while helping to handle a large stone on the farm, and died before a great while. Grandmother was tall and erect, with fine brown eyes, regular features, a wining smile, and a soft, clear voice. She was a staunch Presbyterian. She was not a mere Sunday Christian, but she brought her faith and religious belief into her everyday life and all her business transactions. She went in her carriage to church, five miles away, every Sunday with great punctuality. Truth, honesty, industry and punctuality were what she taught by precept and example. She was firm in the enforcement of right, but never raised her voice in anger in maintaining the same. She owned a number of servants, men, women, girls and boys. A lot of the young ones were about my age, and they became my companions in all outdoor sports.
By coursing over the fields, fishing in the streams, climbing the fruit trees, and riding the horses, the grandson soon became strong and hearty. As there was no school near enough for him to attend the grandmother taught him. He liked the lessons well enough, and liked to read and learn, providing the lessons were not so very regular, just when he was interested in doing something else. One morning while the boy was over by the garden with his daily attendants laying plans for some amusement, the call of “William”, came in a clear voice from the dining room door; no answer. “William”, no answer, he was suspicious. “William Edwin, come to your books”, now he was certain. Bip – bip – bip, went the speeding feet of him who was called, closely followed by his dusky cohort. Around the garden they ran and plunged into a deep, wide gully behind it where grew a thick clump of Morello cherry trees, doubtless planted by the hand of some thrifty Magruder who was fond of bounce and cherry pickle. The party sat down, Indian fashion as to hold council as to what to do next. One of them look up exclaimed, “Yonder comes old Miss.” Yes, there she was, tall and straight, coming right to the hiding place, and near by. Evidently a spy had reported at headquarters. An ignominious retreat must be effected. With bent forms and hurrying feet they all started through the bushes. “Oh never mind, you need not run, I see you, come back and right up here,” came her clear tones. A surrender was effected. “Now, come on to the house.” The captor and judge walked on erect, the prisoner moved with hanging head and lagging feet. He was thinking over what kind of punishment would be inflicted. When the sitting room was reached, the order was given to sit down. Oh, how joyfully he sat down. A load of evil anticipation was lifted – he straightened up. The judge also took a seat. “Well what do you think of yourself?” “I don’t know.” “Well I know that I am surprised and grieved at you behavior. What would your father think and say, if I wrote to him of your conduct?”
Then followed a discourse on honesty in purpose, attention to duty, the benefits of education, and much more in that line. When the lecture was over, the audience was told to get to his book, and study the lesson of the day. He did not run off again.
While we had many visits from friends and relations, the visitors who were treated with the highest consideration were the preacher and the doctor. They were the ones upon whom we were dependent for bodily and spiritual comfort. The preacher came frequently to see us and always stayed to take a meal. Then the choice of everything was set forth. The best china and silver were put on the table, the pick of what was stored in the pantry was produced, and the fried chicken, when in season, when Aunt Jane, the colored cook, got up with cream gravy and a dash of parsley was, as the young lady says about her newest hat, “a perfect dream”. When the doctor came he was looked up to as a man of the highest distinction, especially by the ladies, and every word he said was listened to with marked attention. He did not stop to take meals, he could not spare the time. For treatment his main dependence was bleeding. He bled for everything. I am not sure if he did not bleed for the toothache. After he had looked at the sick person, he would say, “It is necessary that I take some blood. Bring me a basin.” When he had drawn as much of the fluid as he thought proper, he would say, “Now set this basin aside, and after awhile I will look at the contents and I can tell by the color what medicine is needed.” After a bit, when he made the proper examination, he would give the sick a big dose of calomel, and as he went away he would charge everyone not to give the patient a single drop of water until he came again, for if they did he, “would not be responsible for the consequences, as a bad case of salivation might develop”.
The ordinary sickness in the family, grandmother treated herself. Her chief reliance was the mustard plaster. It was not made of the pale yellow mustard one gets these days, but of a rich brownish sort whose very smell would burn. When you had been plastered with one of these for five minutes, you would think it had been on an hour and call for it to be taken off, which you may be sure was not done. I have a warm memory of that remedy.
The colored people of that day were very superstitious and suspicious of each other. They believed firmly in ghosts, witches, conjurers, “trickers”, and signs for almost everything. Early one morning it was announced that Aunt Jane the cook, was sick, and another was sent to get breakfast. I was a great crony of Aunt Jane; I loved to hear her thrilling ghost stories, and tales of the people of the past, and their doings, so after breakfast I went to the kitchen to call on her. I found her sitting at the side of the big fireplace in a crumpled up position, looking very forlorn. “Well Aunt Jane, how are you feeling now?” “Oh Lordy, honey, don’t talk! I have gist got an awful misery in my side, and a terrible gnawing on my vitals, and a dreadful rapping in my head; I believe I’m conjured and I gist know the very black nigger who done tricked me. She done had a grudge agin me for a long time, and I shore hope the good Lord, who is over all of we’alls, will plough up her dirty, sneaking soul with a red hot plough share!”
The doctor came, Aunt Jane survived his treatment, and afterward baked for us many a fine chicken and toothsome pie.
A few years later, after I came to live with my grandmother, Eliza Talbott’s husband died, and she, being my grandmother’s sister, came to live with us, making a pleasant addition to our little family. When I was twelve years old my father and mother, on account of the health of the later, moved to a farm about five miles from Rockville. I then left the home of my grandmother and joined my parents, so I could attend the Rockville Academy and ride to school every day.
Some years later Aunt Eliza passed away, and my grandmother, after dividing her property between her two sons, came to live with my father, where she spent the rest of her days, an honored member of the family, always busy and ever doing something to add to the pleasure and comfort of others. With all of her faculties unimpaired, an active body and clear mind, she took interest in all around her until December 16, 1865, when after only a very short sickness she passed from this life at the ripe old age of eighty-two years, truly a Magruder matron, the echoes of whose life still sound around us. When we count them over we find she has forty-six living grandchildren of the different degrees. Three of her grandsons are officers of our Clan, the Chancellor, the Surgeon, and the Treasurer.
A stone was erected to her memory, but she did not need this; a better memorial of her exists in the lasting influence she exerted upon all those who came near to her, and we may believe it will continue to pass from generation to generation, and like our Scottish river, flow on and on, forever and forever.”
Aunt Eliza was Harriet’s sister, Eliza Magruder (1790-1855), and her husband was William Talbott (1775-1846). When Eliza died, Harriet moved in with her son Edwin Magruder Muncaster at Flower Hill Farm, where she died and was buried. The Mill Creek Towne elementary school was built in there in 1966 and the graves were moved to Laytonsville United Methodist Church Cemetery.
The following is from
Echoes of the Lives of Magruder Matrons
By her grandson William Edwin Muncaster (1839-1922)
Yearbook of the American Clan Gregor Society 1915
“Here was a problem for the young widow; these were left for her to support, educate, and start in life. This she did, and showed the untiring energy of her will and the strength of her character.
In the year 1845 I was living with my parents in Baltimore, being six years old, and had been what they called, in those days, “somewhat ailing”, for some months. The doctor advised that I should be sent to the country to get the fresh air, fruit, and farm fare, and roll on the earth and grass. So my father sent me to my grandmother, this Harriet Magruder Muncaster. Thus I learned to know her fully, as I lived with her on the farm she occupied, for six years, in the most impressible period of life. When I came to her she was sixty-three years old, and as a widow with three sons to prepare for their places in the world, she had fought the battle of life and won. She had educated her sons and they were established, one as a merchant in Baltimore, and one as a merchant in Georgetown. The oldest son was with her, but in very poor health. He had been hurt while helping to handle a large stone on the farm, and died before a great while. Grandmother was tall and erect, with fine brown eyes, regular features, a wining smile, and a soft, clear voice. She was a staunch Presbyterian. She was not a mere Sunday Christian, but she brought her faith and religious belief into her everyday life and all her business transactions. She went in her carriage to church, five miles away, every Sunday with great punctuality. Truth, honesty, industry and punctuality were what she taught by precept and example. She was firm in the enforcement of right, but never raised her voice in anger in maintaining the same. She owned a number of servants, men, women, girls and boys. A lot of the young ones were about my age, and they became my companions in all outdoor sports.
By coursing over the fields, fishing in the streams, climbing the fruit trees, and riding the horses, the grandson soon became strong and hearty. As there was no school near enough for him to attend the grandmother taught him. He liked the lessons well enough, and liked to read and learn, providing the lessons were not so very regular, just when he was interested in doing something else. One morning while the boy was over by the garden with his daily attendants laying plans for some amusement, the call of “William”, came in a clear voice from the dining room door; no answer. “William”, no answer, he was suspicious. “William Edwin, come to your books”, now he was certain. Bip – bip – bip, went the speeding feet of him who was called, closely followed by his dusky cohort. Around the garden they ran and plunged into a deep, wide gully behind it where grew a thick clump of Morello cherry trees, doubtless planted by the hand of some thrifty Magruder who was fond of bounce and cherry pickle. The party sat down, Indian fashion as to hold council as to what to do next. One of them look up exclaimed, “Yonder comes old Miss.” Yes, there she was, tall and straight, coming right to the hiding place, and near by. Evidently a spy had reported at headquarters. An ignominious retreat must be effected. With bent forms and hurrying feet they all started through the bushes. “Oh never mind, you need not run, I see you, come back and right up here,” came her clear tones. A surrender was effected. “Now, come on to the house.” The captor and judge walked on erect, the prisoner moved with hanging head and lagging feet. He was thinking over what kind of punishment would be inflicted. When the sitting room was reached, the order was given to sit down. Oh, how joyfully he sat down. A load of evil anticipation was lifted – he straightened up. The judge also took a seat. “Well what do you think of yourself?” “I don’t know.” “Well I know that I am surprised and grieved at you behavior. What would your father think and say, if I wrote to him of your conduct?”
Then followed a discourse on honesty in purpose, attention to duty, the benefits of education, and much more in that line. When the lecture was over, the audience was told to get to his book, and study the lesson of the day. He did not run off again.
While we had many visits from friends and relations, the visitors who were treated with the highest consideration were the preacher and the doctor. They were the ones upon whom we were dependent for bodily and spiritual comfort. The preacher came frequently to see us and always stayed to take a meal. Then the choice of everything was set forth. The best china and silver were put on the table, the pick of what was stored in the pantry was produced, and the fried chicken, when in season, when Aunt Jane, the colored cook, got up with cream gravy and a dash of parsley was, as the young lady says about her newest hat, “a perfect dream”. When the doctor came he was looked up to as a man of the highest distinction, especially by the ladies, and every word he said was listened to with marked attention. He did not stop to take meals, he could not spare the time. For treatment his main dependence was bleeding. He bled for everything. I am not sure if he did not bleed for the toothache. After he had looked at the sick person, he would say, “It is necessary that I take some blood. Bring me a basin.” When he had drawn as much of the fluid as he thought proper, he would say, “Now set this basin aside, and after awhile I will look at the contents and I can tell by the color what medicine is needed.” After a bit, when he made the proper examination, he would give the sick a big dose of calomel, and as he went away he would charge everyone not to give the patient a single drop of water until he came again, for if they did he, “would not be responsible for the consequences, as a bad case of salivation might develop”.
The ordinary sickness in the family, grandmother treated herself. Her chief reliance was the mustard plaster. It was not made of the pale yellow mustard one gets these days, but of a rich brownish sort whose very smell would burn. When you had been plastered with one of these for five minutes, you would think it had been on an hour and call for it to be taken off, which you may be sure was not done. I have a warm memory of that remedy.
The colored people of that day were very superstitious and suspicious of each other. They believed firmly in ghosts, witches, conjurers, “trickers”, and signs for almost everything. Early one morning it was announced that Aunt Jane the cook, was sick, and another was sent to get breakfast. I was a great crony of Aunt Jane; I loved to hear her thrilling ghost stories, and tales of the people of the past, and their doings, so after breakfast I went to the kitchen to call on her. I found her sitting at the side of the big fireplace in a crumpled up position, looking very forlorn. “Well Aunt Jane, how are you feeling now?” “Oh Lordy, honey, don’t talk! I have gist got an awful misery in my side, and a terrible gnawing on my vitals, and a dreadful rapping in my head; I believe I’m conjured and I gist know the very black nigger who done tricked me. She done had a grudge agin me for a long time, and I shore hope the good Lord, who is over all of we’alls, will plough up her dirty, sneaking soul with a red hot plough share!”
The doctor came, Aunt Jane survived his treatment, and afterward baked for us many a fine chicken and toothsome pie.
A few years later, after I came to live with my grandmother, Eliza Talbott’s husband died, and she, being my grandmother’s sister, came to live with us, making a pleasant addition to our little family. When I was twelve years old my father and mother, on account of the health of the later, moved to a farm about five miles from Rockville. I then left the home of my grandmother and joined my parents, so I could attend the Rockville Academy and ride to school every day.
Some years later Aunt Eliza passed away, and my grandmother, after dividing her property between her two sons, came to live with my father, where she spent the rest of her days, an honored member of the family, always busy and ever doing something to add to the pleasure and comfort of others. With all of her faculties unimpaired, an active body and clear mind, she took interest in all around her until December 16, 1865, when after only a very short sickness she passed from this life at the ripe old age of eighty-two years, truly a Magruder matron, the echoes of whose life still sound around us. When we count them over we find she has forty-six living grandchildren of the different degrees. Three of her grandsons are officers of our Clan, the Chancellor, the Surgeon, and the Treasurer.
A stone was erected to her memory, but she did not need this; a better memorial of her exists in the lasting influence she exerted upon all those who came near to her, and we may believe it will continue to pass from generation to generation, and like our Scottish river, flow on and on, forever and forever.”
Aunt Eliza was Harriet’s sister, Eliza Magruder (1790-1855), and her husband was William Talbott (1775-1846). When Eliza died, Harriet moved in with her son Edwin Magruder Muncaster at Flower Hill Farm, where she died and was buried. The Mill Creek Towne elementary school was built in there in 1966 and the graves were moved to Laytonsville United Methodist Church Cemetery.
Harriet Magruder Muncaster was born to Walter Magruder (1760-abt 1818) and Margaret Orme (abt 1758-aft 1798). On September 25, 1804 she married Zachariah Muncaster (1779-1815). He died in January, 1815, leaving her a young widow of thirty-two years, with three small sons, Walter James (1805-aft 1840), Edwin Magruder (1809-1881) and Otho Zachariah (1814-1893); ten, six and one-year old respectively.
The following is from
Echoes of the Lives of Magruder Matrons
By her grandson William Edwin Muncaster (1839-1922)
Yearbook of the American Clan Gregor Society 1915
“Here was a problem for the young widow; these were left for her to support, educate, and start in life. This she did, and showed the untiring energy of her will and the strength of her character.
In the year 1845 I was living with my parents in Baltimore, being six years old, and had been what they called, in those days, “somewhat ailing”, for some months. The doctor advised that I should be sent to the country to get the fresh air, fruit, and farm fare, and roll on the earth and grass. So my father sent me to my grandmother, this Harriet Magruder Muncaster. Thus I learned to know her fully, as I lived with her on the farm she occupied, for six years, in the most impressible period of life. When I came to her she was sixty-three years old, and as a widow with three sons to prepare for their places in the world, she had fought the battle of life and won. She had educated her sons and they were established, one as a merchant in Baltimore, and one as a merchant in Georgetown. The oldest son was with her, but in very poor health. He had been hurt while helping to handle a large stone on the farm, and died before a great while. Grandmother was tall and erect, with fine brown eyes, regular features, a wining smile, and a soft, clear voice. She was a staunch Presbyterian. She was not a mere Sunday Christian, but she brought her faith and religious belief into her everyday life and all her business transactions. She went in her carriage to church, five miles away, every Sunday with great punctuality. Truth, honesty, industry and punctuality were what she taught by precept and example. She was firm in the enforcement of right, but never raised her voice in anger in maintaining the same. She owned a number of servants, men, women, girls and boys. A lot of the young ones were about my age, and they became my companions in all outdoor sports.
By coursing over the fields, fishing in the streams, climbing the fruit trees, and riding the horses, the grandson soon became strong and hearty. As there was no school near enough for him to attend the grandmother taught him. He liked the lessons well enough, and liked to read and learn, providing the lessons were not so very regular, just when he was interested in doing something else. One morning while the boy was over by the garden with his daily attendants laying plans for some amusement, the call of “William”, came in a clear voice from the dining room door; no answer. “William”, no answer, he was suspicious. “William Edwin, come to your books”, now he was certain. Bip – bip – bip, went the speeding feet of him who was called, closely followed by his dusky cohort. Around the garden they ran and plunged into a deep, wide gully behind it where grew a thick clump of Morello cherry trees, doubtless planted by the hand of some thrifty Magruder who was fond of bounce and cherry pickle. The party sat down, Indian fashion as to hold council as to what to do next. One of them look up exclaimed, “Yonder comes old Miss.” Yes, there she was, tall and straight, coming right to the hiding place, and near by. Evidently a spy had reported at headquarters. An ignominious retreat must be effected. With bent forms and hurrying feet they all started through the bushes. “Oh never mind, you need not run, I see you, come back and right up here,” came her clear tones. A surrender was effected. “Now, come on to the house.” The captor and judge walked on erect, the prisoner moved with hanging head and lagging feet. He was thinking over what kind of punishment would be inflicted. When the sitting room was reached, the order was given to sit down. Oh, how joyfully he sat down. A load of evil anticipation was lifted – he straightened up. The judge also took a seat. “Well what do you think of yourself?” “I don’t know.” “Well I know that I am surprised and grieved at you behavior. What would your father think and say, if I wrote to him of your conduct?”
Then followed a discourse on honesty in purpose, attention to duty, the benefits of education, and much more in that line. When the lecture was over, the audience was told to get to his book, and study the lesson of the day. He did not run off again.
While we had many visits from friends and relations, the visitors who were treated with the highest consideration were the preacher and the doctor. They were the ones upon whom we were dependent for bodily and spiritual comfort. The preacher came frequently to see us and always stayed to take a meal. Then the choice of everything was set forth. The best china and silver were put on the table, the pick of what was stored in the pantry was produced, and the fried chicken, when in season, when Aunt Jane, the colored cook, got up with cream gravy and a dash of parsley was, as the young lady says about her newest hat, “a perfect dream”. When the doctor came he was looked up to as a man of the highest distinction, especially by the ladies, and every word he said was listened to with marked attention. He did not stop to take meals, he could not spare the time. For treatment his main dependence was bleeding. He bled for everything. I am not sure if he did not bleed for the toothache. After he had looked at the sick person, he would say, “It is necessary that I take some blood. Bring me a basin.” When he had drawn as much of the fluid as he thought proper, he would say, “Now set this basin aside, and after awhile I will look at the contents and I can tell by the color what medicine is needed.” After a bit, when he made the proper examination, he would give the sick a big dose of calomel, and as he went away he would charge everyone not to give the patient a single drop of water until he came again, for if they did he, “would not be responsible for the consequences, as a bad case of salivation might develop”.
The ordinary sickness in the family, grandmother treated herself. Her chief reliance was the mustard plaster. It was not made of the pale yellow mustard one gets these days, but of a rich brownish sort whose very smell would burn. When you had been plastered with one of these for five minutes, you would think it had been on an hour and call for it to be taken off, which you may be sure was not done. I have a warm memory of that remedy.
The colored people of that day were very superstitious and suspicious of each other. They believed firmly in ghosts, witches, conjurers, “trickers”, and signs for almost everything. Early one morning it was announced that Aunt Jane the cook, was sick, and another was sent to get breakfast. I was a great crony of Aunt Jane; I loved to hear her thrilling ghost stories, and tales of the people of the past, and their doings, so after breakfast I went to the kitchen to call on her. I found her sitting at the side of the big fireplace in a crumpled up position, looking very forlorn. “Well Aunt Jane, how are you feeling now?” “Oh Lordy, honey, don’t talk! I have gist got an awful misery in my side, and a terrible gnawing on my vitals, and a dreadful rapping in my head; I believe I’m conjured and I gist know the very black nigger who done tricked me. She done had a grudge agin me for a long time, and I shore hope the good Lord, who is over all of we’alls, will plough up her dirty, sneaking soul with a red hot plough share!”
The doctor came, Aunt Jane survived his treatment, and afterward baked for us many a fine chicken and toothsome pie.
A few years later, after I came to live with my grandmother, Eliza Talbott’s husband died, and she, being my grandmother’s sister, came to live with us, making a pleasant addition to our little family. When I was twelve years old my father and mother, on account of the health of the later, moved to a farm about five miles from Rockville. I then left the home of my grandmother and joined my parents, so I could attend the Rockville Academy and ride to school every day.
Some years later Aunt Eliza passed away, and my grandmother, after dividing her property between her two sons, came to live with my father, where she spent the rest of her days, an honored member of the family, always busy and ever doing something to add to the pleasure and comfort of others. With all of her faculties unimpaired, an active body and clear mind, she took interest in all around her until December 16, 1865, when after only a very short sickness she passed from this life at the ripe old age of eighty-two years, truly a Magruder matron, the echoes of whose life still sound around us. When we count them over we find she has forty-six living grandchildren of the different degrees. Three of her grandsons are officers of our Clan, the Chancellor, the Surgeon, and the Treasurer.
A stone was erected to her memory, but she did not need this; a better memorial of her exists in the lasting influence she exerted upon all those who came near to her, and we may believe it will continue to pass from generation to generation, and like our Scottish river, flow on and on, forever and forever.”
Aunt Eliza was Harriet’s sister, Eliza Magruder (1790-1855), and her husband was William Talbott (1775-1846). When Eliza died, Harriet moved in with her son Edwin Magruder Muncaster at Flower Hill Farm, where she died and was buried. The Mill Creek Towne elementary school was built in there in 1966 and the graves were moved to Laytonsville United Methodist Church Cemetery.
The following is from
Echoes of the Lives of Magruder Matrons
By her grandson William Edwin Muncaster (1839-1922)
Yearbook of the American Clan Gregor Society 1915
“Here was a problem for the young widow; these were left for her to support, educate, and start in life. This she did, and showed the untiring energy of her will and the strength of her character.
In the year 1845 I was living with my parents in Baltimore, being six years old, and had been what they called, in those days, “somewhat ailing”, for some months. The doctor advised that I should be sent to the country to get the fresh air, fruit, and farm fare, and roll on the earth and grass. So my father sent me to my grandmother, this Harriet Magruder Muncaster. Thus I learned to know her fully, as I lived with her on the farm she occupied, for six years, in the most impressible period of life. When I came to her she was sixty-three years old, and as a widow with three sons to prepare for their places in the world, she had fought the battle of life and won. She had educated her sons and they were established, one as a merchant in Baltimore, and one as a merchant in Georgetown. The oldest son was with her, but in very poor health. He had been hurt while helping to handle a large stone on the farm, and died before a great while. Grandmother was tall and erect, with fine brown eyes, regular features, a wining smile, and a soft, clear voice. She was a staunch Presbyterian. She was not a mere Sunday Christian, but she brought her faith and religious belief into her everyday life and all her business transactions. She went in her carriage to church, five miles away, every Sunday with great punctuality. Truth, honesty, industry and punctuality were what she taught by precept and example. She was firm in the enforcement of right, but never raised her voice in anger in maintaining the same. She owned a number of servants, men, women, girls and boys. A lot of the young ones were about my age, and they became my companions in all outdoor sports.
By coursing over the fields, fishing in the streams, climbing the fruit trees, and riding the horses, the grandson soon became strong and hearty. As there was no school near enough for him to attend the grandmother taught him. He liked the lessons well enough, and liked to read and learn, providing the lessons were not so very regular, just when he was interested in doing something else. One morning while the boy was over by the garden with his daily attendants laying plans for some amusement, the call of “William”, came in a clear voice from the dining room door; no answer. “William”, no answer, he was suspicious. “William Edwin, come to your books”, now he was certain. Bip – bip – bip, went the speeding feet of him who was called, closely followed by his dusky cohort. Around the garden they ran and plunged into a deep, wide gully behind it where grew a thick clump of Morello cherry trees, doubtless planted by the hand of some thrifty Magruder who was fond of bounce and cherry pickle. The party sat down, Indian fashion as to hold council as to what to do next. One of them look up exclaimed, “Yonder comes old Miss.” Yes, there she was, tall and straight, coming right to the hiding place, and near by. Evidently a spy had reported at headquarters. An ignominious retreat must be effected. With bent forms and hurrying feet they all started through the bushes. “Oh never mind, you need not run, I see you, come back and right up here,” came her clear tones. A surrender was effected. “Now, come on to the house.” The captor and judge walked on erect, the prisoner moved with hanging head and lagging feet. He was thinking over what kind of punishment would be inflicted. When the sitting room was reached, the order was given to sit down. Oh, how joyfully he sat down. A load of evil anticipation was lifted – he straightened up. The judge also took a seat. “Well what do you think of yourself?” “I don’t know.” “Well I know that I am surprised and grieved at you behavior. What would your father think and say, if I wrote to him of your conduct?”
Then followed a discourse on honesty in purpose, attention to duty, the benefits of education, and much more in that line. When the lecture was over, the audience was told to get to his book, and study the lesson of the day. He did not run off again.
While we had many visits from friends and relations, the visitors who were treated with the highest consideration were the preacher and the doctor. They were the ones upon whom we were dependent for bodily and spiritual comfort. The preacher came frequently to see us and always stayed to take a meal. Then the choice of everything was set forth. The best china and silver were put on the table, the pick of what was stored in the pantry was produced, and the fried chicken, when in season, when Aunt Jane, the colored cook, got up with cream gravy and a dash of parsley was, as the young lady says about her newest hat, “a perfect dream”. When the doctor came he was looked up to as a man of the highest distinction, especially by the ladies, and every word he said was listened to with marked attention. He did not stop to take meals, he could not spare the time. For treatment his main dependence was bleeding. He bled for everything. I am not sure if he did not bleed for the toothache. After he had looked at the sick person, he would say, “It is necessary that I take some blood. Bring me a basin.” When he had drawn as much of the fluid as he thought proper, he would say, “Now set this basin aside, and after awhile I will look at the contents and I can tell by the color what medicine is needed.” After a bit, when he made the proper examination, he would give the sick a big dose of calomel, and as he went away he would charge everyone not to give the patient a single drop of water until he came again, for if they did he, “would not be responsible for the consequences, as a bad case of salivation might develop”.
The ordinary sickness in the family, grandmother treated herself. Her chief reliance was the mustard plaster. It was not made of the pale yellow mustard one gets these days, but of a rich brownish sort whose very smell would burn. When you had been plastered with one of these for five minutes, you would think it had been on an hour and call for it to be taken off, which you may be sure was not done. I have a warm memory of that remedy.
The colored people of that day were very superstitious and suspicious of each other. They believed firmly in ghosts, witches, conjurers, “trickers”, and signs for almost everything. Early one morning it was announced that Aunt Jane the cook, was sick, and another was sent to get breakfast. I was a great crony of Aunt Jane; I loved to hear her thrilling ghost stories, and tales of the people of the past, and their doings, so after breakfast I went to the kitchen to call on her. I found her sitting at the side of the big fireplace in a crumpled up position, looking very forlorn. “Well Aunt Jane, how are you feeling now?” “Oh Lordy, honey, don’t talk! I have gist got an awful misery in my side, and a terrible gnawing on my vitals, and a dreadful rapping in my head; I believe I’m conjured and I gist know the very black nigger who done tricked me. She done had a grudge agin me for a long time, and I shore hope the good Lord, who is over all of we’alls, will plough up her dirty, sneaking soul with a red hot plough share!”
The doctor came, Aunt Jane survived his treatment, and afterward baked for us many a fine chicken and toothsome pie.
A few years later, after I came to live with my grandmother, Eliza Talbott’s husband died, and she, being my grandmother’s sister, came to live with us, making a pleasant addition to our little family. When I was twelve years old my father and mother, on account of the health of the later, moved to a farm about five miles from Rockville. I then left the home of my grandmother and joined my parents, so I could attend the Rockville Academy and ride to school every day.
Some years later Aunt Eliza passed away, and my grandmother, after dividing her property between her two sons, came to live with my father, where she spent the rest of her days, an honored member of the family, always busy and ever doing something to add to the pleasure and comfort of others. With all of her faculties unimpaired, an active body and clear mind, she took interest in all around her until December 16, 1865, when after only a very short sickness she passed from this life at the ripe old age of eighty-two years, truly a Magruder matron, the echoes of whose life still sound around us. When we count them over we find she has forty-six living grandchildren of the different degrees. Three of her grandsons are officers of our Clan, the Chancellor, the Surgeon, and the Treasurer.
A stone was erected to her memory, but she did not need this; a better memorial of her exists in the lasting influence she exerted upon all those who came near to her, and we may believe it will continue to pass from generation to generation, and like our Scottish river, flow on and on, forever and forever.”
Aunt Eliza was Harriet’s sister, Eliza Magruder (1790-1855), and her husband was William Talbott (1775-1846). When Eliza died, Harriet moved in with her son Edwin Magruder Muncaster at Flower Hill Farm, where she died and was buried. The Mill Creek Towne elementary school was built in there in 1966 and the graves were moved to Laytonsville United Methodist Church Cemetery.
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