Silas Day biography

This article is a second-hand account of the life of Silas Day.
It appeared in the book "The Lives of Our Days" by Clifford Shaw.
The first part has no author attributed, so presumably it was written by Cliff Shaw in the 1990s. It references the much-older second part.
The second part of the biography is credited to Elizabeth Stella Day, granddaughter of Silas Day. It was probably written in 1913.
== Part 1 ==
Silas Day
Jeduthan Day I and his wife Anne Ludlow had 6 children, four living to adulthood. He was a well-to-do farmer living near Morristown, New Jersey. When Silas, his oldest son, married Susan Breese (ages 20-21 resp.) Jeduthan tried to help by setting Silas up a new business - one he knew nothing about and the result was disastrous. In fact so many debts piled up that the constable arrived frequently to possess and sell his property (including household items) to settle debts. Finally Silas was jailed at Hackensack due to bad, unpaid bills. When the law was repealed he was allowed to go home. 
His granddaughter Elizabeth Day wrote "During these years of struggle and privation and abject poverty, a large family had come into existence - eleven children in all, of whom three - died in childhood. My grandfather, instead of sharing the noble spirit of his wife, made her lot harder by throwing upon her for one whole year the entire burden of this large family. After the iron business failed, he became a traveling clock mender, and it was during one of these trips that he disappeared from the knowledge of his family. Grandmother bore her sorrow without complaint, and did her best, with the aid of the older boys, to care for the family. 
One day a cousin who was calling upon her chanced to look out of the window and exclaimed: "Why, there's Silas!" The revulsion of feeling was too great, and Grandmother fainted. 
Despite the fact of his early failure in business, for which he was really not to blame, my grandfather was always strictly honest in his business relations. Considering the intemperate times in which he lived, and his self-indulgent and undisciplined nature, it is remarkable that he was a total abstainer from liquor and tobacco, and had much to say against their use by others. He has transmitted to nearly all of his male descendants a strong distaste for both forms of dissipation, so that. since his time, there have few smokers among them and, so far as my knowledge extends, no drinkers." 
Susan died July 28, 1847. Three years later Silas remarried. He spent his last years in the home of his son, Anthony Ludlow Day - father of Elizabeth. He had a stroke - "his mind failed" - tho he remembered Susan in his mental ramblings. "He died April 5, 1877 and sleeps beside her in the little Country Churchyard at Oak Ridge, New Jersey. Their graves are marked by a common stone." 
== Part 2 ==
Silas Day 
A Brief Sketch of His Life 
By his Granddaughter, Elizabeth Stella Day
 Though my grandfather lived nearly eighty-four years (from July 23, 1783 to April 5, 1867) there is a surprising lack of Biographical information regarding him. My father seldom mentioned either his father or his mother--for exactly opposite reasons--and the older grandchildren who still survive seem to remember "Grandpa Day" chiefly as a man of violent and unreasoning temper, which, apparently, he never made much effort to control. I have gleaned a few facts regarding him from some writings of my father, entitled "Recollections of my Early Life," and the quotations which follow are from that source. 
Silas Day was born and brought up at Morristown, New Jersey, a town of considerable culture and import&ie even in those times. "His father was an intelligent and well-to-do farmer, owning a large and unencumbered farm in the edge of town." Brought up in such favorable surroundings, Silas was evidently a young man of promise when he married, at the age of twenty, Susan Breese, a young woman of much intelligence, refinement, and education. "His father was proud of him, and proud of his young wife, and, having plenty of money, he concluded to set him up in business. He chose a business neither of them knew anything about, and the result was a disastrous failure." 
The business referred to was that of iron-making. The mountains of Northern New Jersey abound in deposits of iron ore, and in the early part of the last century, iron-making was the principal industry, the abundant forests supplying great quantities of charcoal, a fuel needed for smelting and refining the ore. A forge was purchased for young Silas and his brother DeWint, within the boundaries of what is now the town of Stockholm, New Jersey, on the banks of the Pequannock River, at the junction of the main road with the lowest of the four roads which now lead from Stockholm to the village of Holland. This forge bore the name of "Herring Bone Forge," due, it is said, to the bones of herring fish cast away at lunch time by the workmen employed there. DeWint soon withdrew from the partnership, to operate a forge of his own at Canistear. The subsequent failure of Silas was a natural consequence of his lack of experience in the iron business. He was overwhelmed by debts and pursued by the constable, who would come every little while and levy on his household goods and sell them at constable sale.
"In those times there was no two-hundred-dollar exemption law. A few articles of household furniture were exempt - as six knives, six forks, two beds and bedding, six chairs, one table, one pot, one pail, and so on. I can't remember the whole schedule, but it was short - just a few of the absolutely necessary articles for housekeeping. Imagine what would be left after four or five constable sales, with a short interval between each! It was a law in those days that if a creditor could not obtain satisfaction for his debt by the sale of the goods and chattels of the debtor, he could obtain execution against the body of his debtor and have him imprisoned in the county jail, until the debt was paid or the prisoner discharged through the operation of the insolvent law then in force. 
"After five or six constable sales, which, as can be imagined, never paid much on the original debts, my father was sent to jail at Hackensack. He was finally released, when the laws authorizing imprisonment for debt were repealed." 
During these years of struggle and privation and abject poverty, a large family had come into existence--eleven children in all, of whom three died in childhood. My grandfather, instead of sharing the noble spirit of his wife, made her lot harder by throwing upon her for one whole year the entire burden of this large family. After the iron business failed, he became a travelling clock mender, and it was during one of these trips that he disappeared from the knowledge of his family. Grandmother bore her sorrow without complaint, and did her best, with the aid of the older boys, to care for her family. One day a cousin who was calling upon her chanced to look out of the window and exclaimed: "Why there's Silas!" The revulsion of feeling was too great and Grandmother fainted. 
In appearance, Grandfather was short and stout, with clean shaven face and high forehead. He was fond of a good joke, but , as I have intimated, had a hasty and ungovernable temper, and was very bitter in his denunciation of the shortcomings of Christians. In early life, prior to his marriage, he was an active member and class leader in the Methodist church, but in later years he lost his faith and developed atheistical tendencies. He attributed this change to the hypocrisy of a certain preacher, who once wronged him in some business transaction and whom he never forgave. 
Despite the fact of his early failure in business, for which he was really not to blame, my grandfather was always strictly honest in his business relations. Considering the intemperate times in which he lived, and his self-indulgent and undisciplined nature, it is remarkable that he was a total abstainer from both liquor and tobacco, and had much to say against their use by others. He has transmitted to nearly all of his male descendants a strong distaste for both these forms of dissipation, so that, since his time, there have been few smokers among them and so far as my knowledge extends, no drinkers. Grandfather seemed to be fond of children, especially of his grandchildren, my brother, Edgar, being one of his favorites. The following anecdote would seem to indicate that he was not wholly lacking in tenderness toward his own children: When my father was about ten years old, the family spent a year in Basking Ridge, New Jersey, living in a little cottage near the residence of Grandmother's brother, John Breese. They returned to Sussex County the following spring, traveling, of course, by team, as there were no railroads then. The streams were swollen by copious rains, and at one point on the route a bridge had been washed away, and it was necessary to ford the river. The wagon was upset in the water and the baby fell beneath it, being rescued just in time to save the little life. Forty years later, when relating the incident, my grandfather wept. 
Grandfather lived in at least four houses in Northern New Jersey, only one of which is standing at the present time. A little log house on the top of Paradise Hill was the birthplace of my father and was the family home for a number of years, though I am unable to say for how long. A still more tiny log house, in the depths of the forest near Buckbear Mountain, was occupied by the family for a short time. It was known as the "Morgan House." 
A later, more comfortable home was at Stockholm, in a two-story frame house which still stands at the junction of the main road with the road leading under the railroad bridge to Canistear. (Of course, neither the bridge nor the railroad were there in Grandfather's time.) 
It is thought to have been this house which sheltered the mother and the children during the dark days of the year when the head of the family was missing. In all probability, it was while the family were living here, that the three older children, Phebe, Susan, and Elias, married and went their several ways. Jeduthan, the second son, must have gone away from home at about the same time. He left his native state and went to grow up with the Great West, but, at the time, no one knew where he had gone, and for many years he was completely lost to his family. Neither of his parents ever saw him again, and his mother, at least, never knew what became of him. Years afterward, Uncle Elias caused a systematic search to be made for the wanderer, and he was finally located at Grafton, Illinois, where he was living with a wife and five children. In 1887, fifty years after his departure from New Jersey, Uncle Jeduthan returned for the first time to visit his brothers and sister in the East. 
My father married in 1846 and brought his young wife to live under the family roof for a year or so, while their own house on Paradise hill was in the process of erection. 
It was in the Stockholm house, on July 28, 1847, that Grandmother died. Three years later Grandfather brought home a second wife, who had been Miss Margaret Mortimer. She was a good, capable woman, respected by all, but her marriage with Grandfather was an evident mistake and never brought her much happiness. After all the children had left home, Grandpa and "Grandma Maggie," as she came to be known, lived alone for a time in the lower part of the Stockholm house. My brother Frank remembers going down there from Paradise, at frequent intervals, to chop wood for them and do other necessary chores. I am unable to say just when they left Stockholm, but it is known that they lived for a time with Grandpa's oldest daughter, Mrs. Phebe Grimstead, whose home was near New Brunswick, New Jersey.
The property on the top of Paradise Hill had remained in the possession of the family, and when my father married, he built for himself a substantial and comfortable two-story frame house on the Hill, a short distance from the original log cabin, which had crumbled to decay. My parents moved into this house soon after their marriage. Some fourteen or fifteen years later, my grandfather came, in his old age, to spend his last days with them. The infirmities of age gradually increased upon him, and during the last year or more, he was nearly helpless as a paralytic. His care was a great tax upon my mother's strength and helped to break down her health. His mind failed, though, in the midst of much mental darkness, there were sometimes flashes of intelligence. During one of these, my sister Susie remembers seeing him reading the New Testament, and hearing him say, with tears streaming down his face: "I would be willing to spend eternity in toil and hardship, if it would purchase for me a place in heaven beside Susan!" (I give only the substance of this pitiful lament: my sister has forgotten the exact words). He seemed to entirely forget the existence of his second wife, and remembered on the wife of his youth, often calling my mother "Susan." He died on April 5, 1867, and sleeps beside "Susan" in the little country churchyard at Oak Ridge, their graves marked by a common stone. 
March 1. 1913. 
Image caption: The Day family of Morristown, N.J., in the 1870's. Father and seven sons are respectably bearded as good style dictates. Category:Sources