John's Father Research Articles

Fretting over Federalism: Reexamining Allegorical Indian Architecture in William Bartram's Travels

William Bartram (1739–1823), early America's preeminent naturalist, was a worrier. He was a pacifist during the most violent years of the American Revolution; he was quiet, even private, in a family and society that valued public oratory and theatricality. William's father, John Bartram (1699–1777), was a friend to the luminaries of the Revolution and a founder of the American Philosophical Society. But John couldn't have been more different from, nor more disappointed in, his son. Of course, their interest in plants and nature was a deep similarity: John had been the leading horticulturalist of the previous generation. But the contrast of their natures, and their views on one vexing social group of the time—American Indians—was striking. John's father had been killed by Native Americans in the elder Bartram's youth, and John harbored an unrelenting grudge throughout his life, thinking of Indians as lazy, cruel savages (Slaughter xvii, 23). In contrast, William, in his time spent on the southern frontier in the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida, likely admired the nations of Native Americans he found in the southern regions more than any other white colonist in his time.1 William nonetheless believed that Native American cultures would have trouble remaining autonomous entities, and might never truly blend with white American society. If Native Americans would never become part of the American body politic due to whites' “injustice & avarice,” William indirectly advocates that Indians' governmental structures could still be included as part of the deeper American political lineage (Bartram, “Some Hints” 367).

The origins of Austin Bradford Hill's classic textbook of medical statistics

Between January and April 1937 The Lancet published a series of seventeen articles on medical statistics by Austin Bradford Hill. The series was suggested by Dr MH (Pamela) Kettle, an assistant editor at The Lancet, and Hill was paid £3.3.0 (three pounds, three shillings, and no pence – roughly equivalent to £135 today) for each ‘installment’. The seventeen articles formed the chapters of Principles of Medical Statistics,1 which was also published in 1937. Over the next fifty-five years, the book was to run through twelve editions, and become renowned worldwide amongst physicians, epidemiologists, and medical statisticians. Hill had a very distinguished ancestry. ‘From James (b. 1724) and Sarah Hill (∼1733–1801) descended one of the most intellectual families that has ever arisen in England’2 (Gun, quoted by Hill). The family included Thomas Wright Hill (Hill's great-great grandfather, 1763–1851), an educational reformer who devised a system of shorthand, and wrote on the hexadecimal system of counting and proportional representation in parliamentary elections; Sir Rowland Hill (1795–1879), who introduced ‘the penny post’; Matthew Davenport Hill (1792–1872), a criminal-law reformer; George Birkbeck Hill (Hill's grandfather, 1835–1903), writer and critic renowned for his edition of Boswell's Life of Johnson; Rosamund Davenport Hill (1825–1902), a prominent member of the old London School Board; Sir Maurice Hill (1862–1934), a High Court judge; and Sir Leslie Scott (1869–1950), a politician and judge who was briefly the Solicitor General. (He was the eldest son of Sir John Scott (1841–1904), another distinguished judge, whose sister, Annie (1830–1902), was the wife of George Birkbeck Hill; George's sister, Laura, was the second wife of Edward Scott, Sir John's father). Hill's father, Sir Leonard Erskine Hill (1866–1952), became professor of physiology at the London Hospital (where he recruited Major Greenwood, widely regarded as the first medical statistician in Britain, in 1905), and, from 1914, head of the Department of Applied Physiology of the newly-formed Medical Research Committee (fore-runner of the Medical Research Council). Unfortunately there is no biography of Austin Bradford Hill, although brief descriptions of aspects of his life, career, and contributions to statistical and medical research are available, for example, Doll,3,4, Farewell and Johnson,5–7 Gehan and Lemak,8 Keating,9 and Statistics in Medicine.2 In 1927 Hill joined Major Greenwood's department at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine (LSHTM), having obtained an honours degree in economics at University College London in 1922, and then a grant from the Medical Research Council to examine the high mortality in young adults in rural areas of England. While carrying out this study he attended Karl Pearson's course on statistics at London University. Hill's first four papers, for all of which he was the sole author, were published in 1925. The following year he was awarded a PhD by the University of London with a thesis entitled 'A physiological and economic study of the diets of workers in rural areas as compared with those of workers resident in urban areas,’ which consisted of these four papers (we have not been able to trace the identity of Hill's examiners). In 1930 Hill obtained a DSc from the University of London, with a thesis entitled 'An investigation of sickness in various industrial occupations.’ This comprised eight (single-authored) papers published between 1925 and 1929, including the four submitted for his PhD degree. His external DSc examiner was WP Elderton, author of Frequency curves and correlation (1906) and Primer of statistics (1906). Major Greenwood was the internal examiner. By 1936 Hill had published thirty-nine book reviews, eight research reports, and sixteen papers, including nine in the British Medical Journal or The Lancet, and four in the Journal of the Royal Statistical Society. Many of the reviews were of books about population, poverty, industrial working conditions, migration, mortality, and the social conditions in London, subjects of obvious central interest at the LSHTM. However Hill also reviewed Hartshorne and May's Studies in Deceit, Burgess's Introduction to the Mathematics of Statistics, Fisher's The Genetical Theory of Natural Selection, and the second edition of Pearl's Introduction to Medical Biometry and Statistics, thus demonstrating an interest extending into statistics, genetics, and beyond. Most of Hill's papers also reflected a focus on mortality, longevity, social conditions, and industrial working conditions (including those of nurses), reflecting the rapid development of analyses of vital statistics which had occurred over the previous one hundred years. But his interests extended beyond mortality to cricket, experimental epidemiology, and medical practice.

Taking Their Cue from Plato: James and John Stuart Mill

Summary John Stuart Mill's classic tale of disillusionment from a ‘narrow creed’, an overt as much as a covert theme of his Autobiography (London, 1873), has for many years served as a guide to the search for the causes and sources of his ‘enlargement-of-the-utilitarian-creed’ project. As a result, in analyses of Mill's mature views, Samuel Taylor Coleridge—and friends—commonly take centre stage in terms of influence, whereas John's father—James Mill—is reduced either to a supernumerary or a villain in the last act of John's intellectual development. However, students of Mill's works should not take at face value the story presented in Autobiography. Mill's own emphasis on the role of his ‘new influences’ has led scholars to disregard the role of his ‘old influences’ in his attempt to create a broader theory of living—one which takes into account both the intellectual and the emotional capacities of individuals. A close look at key aspects of John Stuart Mill's ‘enlargement project’ suggests that James Mill may have played a more positive role than is usually acknowledged. A way into the intellectual affinity of the two Mills is the person they both kept returning to for guidance and inspiration throughout their lives: Plato.

Boundary issues: employing patients as staff?

Mr and Mrs Smith had been registered with the practice for over 10 years. Mr Smith started working in the practice office approximately 4 years ago. Mrs Smith developed emotional problems and became depressed, which necessitated a referral to the local psychiatric team. It transpired that there were marital difficulties and Mrs Smith had an affair which her husband was unaware of. The thought of her husband having access to the clinical correspondence from the psychiatric team was of great concern to Mrs Smith and also her GP. Elaborate methods were put into place to avoid clinical correspondence passing through Mr Smith's hands. John's father is a GP, and John has been registered at his father's practice since birth. John had felt anxious and was taking illegal drugs. His parents had separated 6 months ago and were not on speaking terms. John did not want details about his family relationships covered in the correspondence from the local drug service. Kim had been registered with her GP for many years. She suffers with bipolar disorder. Kim's behaviour has at times been challenging. Kim's mother worked at the practice as a receptionist. It was difficult to manage Kim with her mother working in the practice. Mr Jones was a practice …

The Unmaking of a Saint: Thomas Becket and the English Reformation

long and complex relationship between Church and State in Western Christendom-both creative and destructive-is particularly well illustrated by examining history of England, especially relations between various English monarchs and Church. More specifically, by focusing on rise, importance, and, especially, fall of cult of St. Thomas Becket from twelfth century through sixteenth century, we can gain some valuable insights into complex series of events known as English Reformation.1 From late eleventh century onward, a process of centralization was underway in both Church and State. Norman Conquest (1066) greatly accelerated this process of state building by Anglo-Norman kings, and this same era witnessed rising power and influence of Papacy. In fact, it has been argued that papal influence in England was generally at its peak in century and a half from Conquest to death of King John (1216).2 Yet, it was during reign of John's father, Henry II,3 that some of most dramatic Church-State conflicts occurred. Ironically, Henry assumed English crown in same year11 54-as Nicholas Breakspear ascended papal throne as Hadrian IV, only English pope in history. It was, arguably, more than just a desire to extend church reforms throughout Europe that induced Hadrian to bestow upon Henry II overlordship of Ireland.4 In same period, Henry appointed his good friend, Thomas Becket, as Chancellor of England. Becket, in general, proved to be a staunch royalist, and it was during this period that cause for canonization of Edward Confessor was brought to a successful completion.5 new pope, Alexander III (1159-1181), desired to regularize canonization process and bring it under papal control. Thus, in 1161 pious English king, Edward Confessor, was declared to be a saint, first English saint to be formally canonized by a pope.6 In that same year Archbishop of Canterbury, Theobald, died and way was open for Henry to appoint his own man, Thomas Becket, as primate of English Church. For his part, Thomas, evidently perceiving not just opportunities but potential perils of such a step, was somewhat reluctant to accept this exalted position. But in end he accepted and was consecrated at Canterbury Cathedral in June, 1162.7 After assuming office of Archbishop of Canterbury, Becket began to change; prelate's devotion to God and Church became even more consuming than chancellor's devotion to king and State.8 Becket decided that he could no longer serve two masters and, therefore, he resigned chancellorship, to king's great regret. conflict heated up considerably in 1164 when Henry issued The Constitutions of Clarendon, which were said to contain recognized customs and rights of kingdom.9 Among sixteen articles were stipulations which: prevented clerics accused of crimes from circumventing royal courts; prohibited clergy from leaving England king's permission; and banned ecclesiastical appeals to papal court without assent of lord king.10 Although Henry was within his rights on strictly historical grounds, Becket argued that custom had to give way when it conflicted with canon law and Holy Scripture. Although Becket had given way in short run, he could not ultimately support royal decrees because they, in effect, viewed king as the real head and master of English church.12 Relations between king and archbishop continued to deteriorate and in November, 1164, Becket fled England and spent six years in exile. Although Alexander III supported Becket with regard to rights and independence of Church, pope was somewhat embarrassed by archbishop's undiplomatic zeal and danger of a schism in Church.13 Henry and Thomas finally achieved a partial reconciliation in 1170, but deeply rooted personal and ideological differences remained. …

"Music With the Bark On": The Southern Journeys of John and Alan Lomax

Up Beat Down South "Music With the Bark On" The SouthernJourneys ofJohn and Alan Lomax BY GAVIN JAMES CAMPBELL /was impressedagain thatthe South was stilla rich area, rich in antiquities andstill producing new sounds. Whateverthere remainedofcreativity in ourAmericanfolk tradition lay here, waitingfor a careless andsuccess-mad world to notice it. —Alan Ijimax, i960 The microphone never gets the same recognition as the breakdowns, ballads, and blues that it records. Yet with it, John and Alan Lomax preserved much of the South's musical diversity and created a national audience for traditional southern music. Between them the father-son team spent over fifty years recording southerners and their music in homes, churches, and fields. They carried their microphones over back roads, down rivers, and up hills, determined to collect the music in the places where it thrived, seekingwhat Alan Lomax called "music with the bark on." Their single-minded determination resulted in perhaps the most above: Alan Lomax (right) with Wade Ward, 19jy. Courtesy ofRounder Records. 114 complete sonic maps of the South ever compiled, and made the microphone one of the region's most important instruments. John A. Lomax was born in 1867 near Goodman, Mississippi, into what he later described as "the upper crust ofthe 'po' white trash'." In 1 869 John's father, looked down upon by a brother who married money, and having litde hope for advancement in an economy dominated by wealthy landowners, packed his family into a covered wagon and began the long journey to the wilds of Texas. The backbreaking labor required to work the farm held few attractions for youngJohn. Using the proceeds from a wheat crop he tended, and from the sale ofhis beloved pony, he enrolled in Granbury College in 1887 to obtain a teaching certificate. A few years later he entered the University of Texas where he became increasingly interested in collecting the cowboy songs he had heard as a young farmhand. A year ofgraduate studies at Harvard broughtJohn into contact with some of the nation's leading folksong scholars, who urged him to systematically collect the folksongs of die western range. By 1910 he was back in Texas, teaching at the state university and roaming catde-country with pencil, paper, and book contract in hand. The governor derided the project as unfit for a member of the university faculty, and even some of the cowboys proved truculent. When John sang a ballad to demonstrate the kind of songs he was after, one cowpoke arose and said, "Only a damn fool would spend his time tryin' to set 'em down." Despite these obstacles John persisted, collecting from both whites and blacks. The material was published in 1910 under the tide Cowboy Songs and OtherFrontierBallads, and it carried a warm endorsement from Theodore Roosevelt. Despite the book's positive reception,John struggled to cobble together a career that joined his interest in folksong and the necessities of providing for a growing family. A political fracas cost him a job at the University ofTexas, and a career as a bond salesman evaporated with the onset ofthe Great Depression. By 1932 he was out of work and desperate. At the very nadir of his crisis, however, he convinced Macmillan to offer him a book contract for a collection of American folksongs. It was then, he later remembered, that "I turned the corner to where a litde light was shining." To supplement material that he and others had already gathered,John and his seventeen-year-old son, Alan, decided to make a journey through the South. Folk music's vitality lies in its relationship to labor, worship, and recreation, but the lack of portable recording equipment had prevented collectors from recording the music in its context. The result was an accumulation of more paper than sound. Musical transcriptions, printed lyrics, and articles in folklore journals failed to convey the kind of immediacyJohn and Alan were after. So they commissioned a custom-built, portable recorder that they could take into the field. In return for depositing the recordings in its newly created Archive of American Folksong, the library of Congress agreed to finance the machine's construction. Up Beat Down South 1 1 5 JohnA...

Using non-sentences

Michael Dummett has nicely expressed a rather widespread doctrine about the primacy of sentences. He writes: "you cannot DO anything with a word — cannot effect any conventional (linguistic) act by uttering it — save by uttering some sentence containing that word ...". In this paper we argue that this doctrine is mistaken: it is not only sentences, but also ordinary words and phrases which can be used in isolation. The argument involves two steps. First: we show — using Sperber and Wilson's relevance theory — that an utterance of "John's father" could COMMUNICATE a proposition. Second: we point out that, in this context, this proposition would be asserted rather than merely implicated. Because there is nothing importantly idiosyncratic about the phrase "John's father", we infer that words and phrases generally can be used in isolation to make assertions.

Introduction to the 1990 Astmh Presidential Address of John R. David as Delivered by Alan Sher, National Institutes of Health

It's a special pleasure for me to be introducing this year's presidential address, since our president, John David, is both a former mentor and close friend. In the next few minutes I hope to convince you of my own belief that John is one of the most accomplished and interesting individuals to head our society. Indeed, I would guess that in both his scientific and personal background John is truly unique amongst those who have served as ASTMH president.John David's roots are in the European intelligentsia of the 1930s. He was born in Middlesex, England, but spent a good portion of his early childhood in France. At the outbreak of the second World War, John's parents moved the family from England to the United States. John arrived on the last convoy of civilians to leave Britain and cross the by-then dangerous Atlantic. John's father, who was a well-known film producer, settled the family in Hollywood, where John finished his secondary school education.

Fictionalizing History: David Bradley's The Chaneysville Incident

In his second novel, The Chaneysville Incident (1981), David Bradley has presented a narrative text in which authenticated historical material is so charged with the expressive claims of fiction as symbolic action that the book may today already claim a unique position within Afro-American fiction-a narrative tradition well-known for its concern with history. As Bradley's statements in the short preface to the novel make explicit, he places himself within a collective endeavor for the ten years it took him to conceptualize and finish the book.' Bradley has drawn on archival research (his own and that of others) into family, community, and group history in order to invest the quest for personal and cultural self-definition of the central narrator John Washington with as much historical context as possible. A fictional protagonist who is himself a professor of history in Philadelphia, with family roots in a small town in western Pennsylvania, John in his investigation of the mysterious suicide of his father Moses Washington brings to light the unrecorded history of the rise and consolidation of the local community, where the covert power of Judge Scott (a white lawyer and real estate owner) and the even less apparent influence of John's father were decisive factors, and reveals as part of that local history the very efforts of Moses Washington to research and make coherent the recondite lives and political roles of his own ancestors in and beyond Pennsylvania. In his research John takes over his father's efforts to fill in the biography and political plans of their ancestor C. K. Washington, who was not only instrumental in leading the fugitive slaves of the local legend alluded to in the title to their heroic self-immolation, but who had also fought his own war against the system of slavery, from an anonymous origin as a slave in the old South to his collaboration with William Still and other authentic black and white abolitionists and

Creative Children: Characterized and Criticized

Creative Children:Characterized and Criticized William Glasser (bio) Characterizations of creative children or their fictional representatives abound in children's literature. By allowing their protagonists to act out fantasies—either in dreams or waking&mdashmany works encourage children to believe in their own creativity and in the safety of expressing it. However, there are also children's books which, while appearing to offer such encouragement, actually foster the idea that the child's creative capacities should be selectively restrained. Two picture books that illustrate these contrasting attitudes are Edward Fenton's Fierce John and Else Minarik's Little Bear.1 Fenton's story ostensibly encourages the child to act out his fantasies, but its hero John is, in fact, subtly thwarted for his creative role-playing in a way which is very discomforting to him. John is a small boy who visits a zoo one day and discovers that although bears will eat candy and elephants will eat nuts, the lion will eat neither. He just looks fierce and roars. When John came home from the zoo he said: "I am not a boy now. . . . I am a lion! Now I will roar." And John roared and looked fierce. "My!" said John's mother. "What a noise!" "That noise is me," said John. "I am very fierce. Are you afraid?" "No," said his mother. "I am not afraid of you." "Why not?" asked John. "I am busy right now," said his mother. "Here is some candy. Now go and play." "Lions don't eat candy," John said, and went away. John tries the same routine on his grandmother, who says, "Must you speak so loud?" and offers him some nuts. "'Lions don't eat nuts,' John said, and went away." John then tries to roar and look fierce for his big brother, who says he is too busy for "baby games," for his aunt, who says, "Dear me. . . . It's John. Are you sick, dear?" and for his sister, who tells him, "Go away now. My doll is asleep." John [End Page 40] Click for larger view View full resolution From Fierce John by Edward Fenton. Illus. By William Pêne du Bois. Copyright © 1959 by Edward Fenton. Copyright © 1959 by William Pene du Bois. Reproduced by permission of Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Publishers. [End Page 41] is about to give up when his father arrives home, so he decides to try once more. John roared and looked fierce. John's father jumped right up on tox of the icebox. "A lion!" he cried. His voice was very afraid. "There is a fierce lion in this house!" John's mother then enters, and when the father tells her there is a lion in the house, she runs and hides herself behind a kitchen chair. John's grandmother comes into the kitchen, is told of the lion, and stands beside the sink, trying to look like a broom. His brother walks in and, when told, runs back out of the house. His aunt hides under the table, and his sister climbs on top of the table. We might pause here a moment to determine our responses to the experience the story has conveyed thus far. How are we to feel about the family's rejections of John's initial attempts to play lion? Certainly a child learns quickly that his imaginative play does not always evoke reactions from those around him, who are often caught up in their own concerns. Are we pleased, then, when John's father reacts so completely? Within my own set of values, I would have to say yes (although his jumping up onto the icebox does strike me as a bit preposterous), for I prefer stories which encourage a child to be imaginative. At this point, however, the story takes a new direction. "But where is John?" said John's father from the top of the icebox. "I think the lion ate John," said John's sister from the top of the table. . . . "Poor John!" said John's mother from behind the chair. "We will miss him very much." John's big brother said from the yard, "I wish I had asked John to come and...

Six Characters in Search of the Family: The Novels of Paul Zindel

Six Characters in Search of the FamilyThe Novels of Paul Zindel* James T. Henke (bio) Since the appearance of The Pigman in 1968, the novels of Paul Zindel have been the objects of a good deal of contradictory discussion and evaluation. These works, The Pigman, My Darling, My Hamburger, and I Never Loved Your Mind, have been hailed as delightfully humorous, refreshingly honest attempts to deal with a number of the classic themes of modern literature. On the other hand, they have been condemned, with equal fervor, as squalid pieces of trash, as slick "con jobs," and as simple-minded hack work.1 Obviously, the resolution of such controversy, if indeed any resolution is possible, is an undertaking far too ambitious for a single essay. Therefore, in this discussion my goals will be much more modest. First, I will sketch one thematic approach to Zindel's novels and then attempt a brief evaluation of the literary worth of each. In so doing, I anticipate that, rather than providing a resolution, this discussion will intensify the Zindel debate. In any case, for the moment we will put aside the problem of the literary quality of Zindel's novels and turn instead to the ideas contained in those novels. Better yet, we will focus upon one idea that, with varying degrees of clarity, informs all three of the author's books. The tracing of this major theme may possibly prove rewarding regardless of the merits of the works themselves. So, let us turn first to The Pigman. The hero of Zindel's first novel is John Conlan, sixteen years old, a bright, imaginative, rebellious high school sophomore. The heroine is Lorraine Jensen, sixteen years old, a bright, somewhat less imaginative, and somewhat less rebellious high school classmate. John and Lorraine are friends, and the novel is their collaboration on a first-person, reflective account of their experiences with Mr. Pignati, the Pigman. By page eleven of the book the reader has been introduced to the respective parents of the protagonists. John's father, whom he calls the "Bore," is a reformed alcoholic and a thorough-going materialist, [End Page 130] a preoccupied commodities broker who cheats on his income tax. John's mother is a compulsive housekeeper who will not allow the boy to use her spotless living room. Lorraine is a bit better off. She has only one parent, a divorced mother, a private nurse who specializes in terminal cancer cases so that she can sell the dying patient to the highest-bidding mortuary. The reader can easily understand, then, why both John and Lorraine are lonely and why, as Beverly Haley and Kenneth Donelson note in a recent article, they attempt to escape the loveless reality of their existences by guzzling beer and playing mischievous games.2 That is, until they meet the Pigman. Angelo Pignati, the third major character of the novel, is a sixtyish widower who is attempting to escape his own unfaceable reality: he cannot admit to himself that his wife is dead. Rather, he insists upon pretending that she is visiting a sister in California. Obviously, like the children, he lives a life without love; like the children, he yearns for something, for someone. When these three meet quite by accident, their lives are changed, but not in the way critics generally assume. For instance, Haley and Donelson write: "Then they [the children] find a substitute parent in Mr. Pignati, a childless widower, who becomes the parent neither has ever known, as they become the children he has never had."3 Although close, this is not quite on the mark. None of Zindel's heroes and heroines is seeking a surrogate parent. Quite to the contrary, all of Zindel's paired protagonists (and the reader encounters these boygirl teams in all three novels) have rejected the subordinate role of child and are seeking to assume for themselves the dominant identity of parent. In other words, what they attempt to do is in various ways to create their own families in order to successfully fulfill the role of parent, a role at which their own parents have failed so miserably. Thus, in The Pigman John and...

Notes on Cooper's Debt to John Jay

C OOPER S FRIENDSHIP with the family of John Jay is well known, as is Cooper's debt to John Jay for the story of the historical personage who provided him with the idea for Harvey Birch of The Spy (I82I). Jay, as James Franklin Beard chronicles it, had lived at Bedford, his country house near Katonah, since his retirement from active political life in i8oi. Here Cooper was a frequent visitor; and here, some years before, Jay told the story of the patriot spy which inspired Cooper's first successful, though as yet [Sept. 6, I82I] uncompleted, romance.' Cooper waited until Jay's death in I829 to acknowledge publicly this debt in the preface to Bentley's edition of The Spy (I83I). A letter of John Jay's to Colonel John Laurens, recently purchased by Mrs. Walter L. Weil and on loan to the John Jay Homestead in Katonah, contains some information which suggests that The Spy may not have been the only novel of Cooper's influenced by John Jay's conversation. The letter is dated Madrid, May 2, 178I, and concerns itself in part with a scheme to capture prisoners on the coasts of Great Britain in order to exchange them for Henry Laurens, John's father, who had been captured by the British while on a diplomatic mission in the fall of I780. We recall from The Pilot (I824), that the Ariel, commanded by Captain Barnstable, and a frigate, commanded by Captain Munson, the leader of the expedition, have entered a bay on the northeastern coast of England to pick up Mr. Gray, the pilot, who is to help them on a mission the purpose of which is as yet unknown to any but Captain Munson. This was soon after the events of the revolution had involved the kingdoms of France and Spain, and the republics of Holland, in our quarrel. ...2 The

A Boyhood for "Johnny Appleseed"

S TEBBINS PARK in Springfield, Massachusetts, commemorates John Chapman, the famous Appleseed, with an attractive little monument,1 the inscription on which declares in part that Johnny spent his boyhood in this pleasant valley [the valley of the Connecticut River] or somewhere near by. Here he received inspiration for his life work of spreading westward his gospel of beauty and service. About the inspiration one cannot be sure now, of course, for any boy's inspirations are elusive matters after a century and a half, particularly when that boy was John Chapman, who was not brought up to keep a journal or letterbooks, who probably never thought of recording memoirs, and whom folks found very reticent, at least in his old age, about saying anything at all concerning his beginnings. But about the setting for John Chapman's boyhood, the Stebbins Park memorial is probably correct. The aged Johnny Appleseed left distinct impressions among the farmers who remembered him in Ohio and Indiana in the eighteen-thirties and forties that he had come from the vicinity of Springfield.2 That fact was reinforced by the knowledge that certain half-brothers and -sisters had come from there. In later years an erroneous statement in D.A.R. records that John's father, Nathaniel Chapman, had been born in Springfield seemed to clinch the matter.

John Hull: Mintmaster

JOHN HULL was born in Market Harborough, Leicestershire, England, on December 18, 1624. In his eleventh year he accompanied his father and mother to New England, arriving in Boston on November 7, 1635. He learned the trade of a goldsmith from his half-brother, Richard Storer, and started to practise his craft about 1642. When twenty-three years of age, in 1647, he married Judith, the daughter of Edmund Quincy, whose widow later married John's father, Robert Hull. Besides being named mintmaster, John Hull became one of the outstanding merchants of his day. He also served several times as deputy and assistant in the General Court and was treasurer of the colony during the trying time of King Philip's War. The causes that led the General Court to undertake to exer-

Lyon Gardiner Tyler

Lyon Gardiner Tyler was born in August, 1853. He never knew the day of the month because the Bible in which it was recorded was taken from his mother's house during the War of 1861-65. His father, John Tyler the tenth President, died when the son was a lad of eight. His mother, who became President Tyler's second wife June 26, 1844, during his term of office, was Julia Gardiner of New York, daughter of David Gardiner, state senator of New York. A lover of genealogy, Lyon Gardiner Tyler was the representative of a distinguished lineage of the North on his mnother's side and of the South on his father's. Julia Gardiner was sixth in descent through her father from the distinguished founder of the Gardiner family of Gardiner's Island and Easthampton, L. I., Lion Gardiner, for whom she named her fifth child. Through her mother, she was third in descent from Lachlan, a Highland chief, killed at Culloden, April 16, 1746. John Tyler had been Governor of Virginia and United States Senator before he became President, and his father, John Tyler, had also been Governor of Virginia. That John's father and grandfather, each named John, had been the one, marshall of the vice admiralty court, and the other, a builder and architect who had helped erect the Governor's Palace, the Powder Magazine, and the two wings of Bruton Church. Among the other ancestors on his father's side, Lvon Tyler counted the families of Armistead, Shields, Marot, Contesse, Anderson, Chiles, Page, Morris. Through his marriage on November 14, 1878, to Anne B. Tucker, daughter of Lt. Colonel St. George Tucker of Albemarle County, and second, on September 12, 1923, to Sue Ruffin, daughter of John A. Ruffin of Charles City County, he allied himself with the Tucker, Gilmer, Randolph, Bland and the Ruffin, Harrison, and other distinguished families. In February, 1870, Lyon Tyler entered the University of Virginia and received his Bachelor of Arts degree in 1875 and the famous Master's degree in 1876. He later studied Law under Professor John B. Minor. As a student, he was a member of the Kappa Sigma Fraternity and the Jefferson Literary Society. He wrote for the student magazine and in his later years was proud that the committee that awarded to him the Magazine Scholarship in 1876 was composed of Professors Gildersleeve, Mallet, and Venable. He was twice selected by an