G. T. (Gideon Tibbetts) Ridlon.

History of the families Millingas and Millanges of Saxony and Normandy, comprising genealogies and biographies of their posterity surnamed Milliken, Millikin, Millikan, Millican, Milligan, Mulliken and Mullikin, A. D. 800-A. D. 1907; containing names of thirty thousand persons, with copious notes on online

. (page 37 of 109)
Online LibraryG. T. (Gideon Tibbetts) RidlonHistory of the families Millingas and Millanges of Saxony and Normandy, comprising genealogies and biographies of their posterity surnamed Milliken, Millikin, Millikan, Millican, Milligan, Mulliken and Mullikin, A. D. 800-A. D. 1907; containing names of thirty thousand persons, with copious notes on → online text (page 37 of 109)
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raising his present charge to a high degree of efficiency and prosperity; and
should his life and health be sjxired he bids fair to stand in the front rank of
American educators.

VII. Elvira Dolly Milliken^ b. in Boone Co., 111., Nov. 8, 1867; d. July
15. iS6().

2. Charles S. Milliken'M^:), second son of John^ (6), b. in East Jaflfrey, N. H.,
Oct. 12, 1820; m. to S.ARAH Gardner. He resides in Los Angeles, Gal.

3. George Milliken^ (4), third son of John^ (6), deceased.


1. Abel B. Milliken'' (1), eldest son of Cyrus' (1), b. Apr. 15, 1822; m. Joana
Phillips, and lives in Brookline, Mass.

2. Laura T. Milliken'^ (1), eldest daughter of Cyrus^ (1), b. Feb. 5, 1823; was
m., ist, to John R. Lord; 2d, to Sylvanus Rice; 3d, to James T. Plaisted.
She resides in Dubucjue, la.

3. Frances A. Milliken^ (1), second daughter of Cyrus* (1), b. May 31, 1825;
was m. to Orville C. Walker, and lives in Algona, La.

4. Luther A. Milliken' (1), second son of Cyrus* (1), b. July 29, 1826; m., ist,
to Fanny Broadhead; 2d, to ANN^E E. Hester. Resides in FrankHn, N. C.

5. Harriet U. Milliken' (4), third daughter of Cwus" (1), b. Aug. 26, 1828; d.
Mar. 3, 1867, unm.

6. Rev. Charles E. Milliken' (3), third son of Cyrus* (1), b. Feb. 5, 1830; m.,
ist, Sarah F. Dunklee, of Francistown, N. H.; 2d, ^Lary F. Redington of
Littleton, N. H. ; 3d, a daughter of Allen Folger of Concord, N. H. He grad-
uated at Harvard College in 1857, and is a Congregational clergyman at Swansea,
X. H. Children named as follows:

I. Rev. Charles Dunklee Milliken^, b. Oct. 12, 1863, was pastor of a

church in Canaan, Conn., but is now (1903) settled in the West.
II. Addie ^L\rl\ Mn.LiKEN*, b. Oct. 12, 1863. These twins were by his

first wife,
in. Edward Redington Milliken"®, b. Dec. 9, 1881, son of the second wife.

7. Lyman Beecher Milliken" (1), fourth son of Cyrus* (1), b. .Apr. 30, 1834; m.
Nancy P. Twamblv, the daughter of Charles Twambly of Saco, Me., of the
old firm of jewelers titled "Smith & Twambly.'' He is engaged in the hard-
ware business in Saco. Several children were born to them, names unknown.

^u-tlr 6cncv:itioiT.



I. Gustavus S. Milliken' (1), eldest son of Alexander' ( ), b. July S, 1S44; d.
Sept. 15, 1845.


2, Francis Marion Milliken'' (1), second son of Alexander^ ( ), b. Aug. i, 1847;
m. Aug. 16, 1869, Grace Ducher, daughter of Robert and Louisa (Lowell
Ducher, b. Dec. 4, 1847, is a telegraph operator at Fenton, Mich. He was
formerly ticket agent for the Detroit, Grand Haven & Milwaukee R. R. Was
afterwards in the hotel business in several towns of Michigan — St. Louis, Alma,
Grand Rapids, Traverse City, etc. Children, as follows:

Note. — About the time Francis M. Milliken was born and before he was named, his
father and grandfather chanced to meet one day at (Farwells Mills) Clarendon village, and
the old gentleman, who was then town clerk, asked his son: "Well, Alec, what will you name
the boy?" Facetiously, Alexander, Jr., replied: "Why, General Francis Marion." Assum-
ing that his son was in earnest, the old scribe went home and entered the name and date of
birth in the town book. When the parents heard of this transaction they concluded to let the
record stand, "and so," says the owner of this name, "I became a Swamp Fox."

I. Herbert Aex. Milliken^, b. Aug. 18, 1870; m. Bertha E. Gorton
Nov. 25, 1891 (she b. Oct. 16, 1871) and has Jacob Gorton Milliken, b.
Dec. 19, 1894. He is a professional viohnist and teacher of artistic violin
playing, having received his musical education from four leading Ameri-
can violinists: C. A. Hoffman of Pontiac, Mich.; Emil Mahr and T.
Adamowski, of Boston; and Henry Lambert of New York; besides a
thorough course in harmony with the late Stephen A. Emery, of Boston,

II. Guy E. Milliken^ b. Apr. i, 1873; d. May 17, 1892, at St. John's,
Mich., and buried in Fenton, Mich.

III. Francis Maxwell Milliken^, b. Sept. 19, 1879; d. Jan. 8, 1893, at
Fenton, Mich., and buried there.

IV. Fred A. Milliken', b. Feb. 7, 1882; d. July 14, 1882; buried at Fenton,


1. Fayette A. Milliken" (1), son of Robert^ (5), b. in Clarendon, N. Y., Aug. 7,
1848; m. June 4, 1873, Belle S. Berry, youngest daughter of Col. John Berry,
who d. Nov. 22, 1899. He is a dealer in produce. Has been postmaster at
Holly. One child. Donna B., b. at Holly, N. Y., Apr. 18, 1879.

2. Florence A. Milliken*' (1), daughter of Robert^ (5), b. in Clarendon, N. Y.,
May 8, 1854. She lived at Home in Holly, N. Y., unm.


1. John Milliken** (10), eldest son of RoyaP (2), b. in Walpole, N. H., Dec. 13,
1834; d. of pneumonia at Lawrence, Mass., May 12, 1861. Buried at Spring-
field, Vt. Left fatherless at the age of four years, his early life was passed upon
farms in Vermont; educated in the common schools and Springfield, Vt., Semi-
nary; spent several years in travel as an agent for the sale of books, maps, stencil
goods, etc., visiting se\-enteen states of the Union. Studied law with Judge
N. W. Harmon of Lawrence, Mass.; admitted to the Essex County bar only a
few weeks before his death, and shortly before he was to be married to one of
the prominent school-teachers of Lawrence. He was a great student and un-
commonl}- well versed in law for one of his years, and gave every indication of
unusual eminence in his profession.

2. Sarah E. Milliken*' (4). only daughter of RoyaP (2), b. in Walpole, N. H.,
May 7, 1836, d. of scarlet fever, after only three days' illness. May 8, 1838.

3. Daniel Lake Milliken*' (1), second son of RoyaP (2), was b. in the village of
Drewsville, town of Walpole, N. H., Sept. 21, 1837. He m. May 22, i860,
Mandana Spencer, daughter of Elijah and Louisa (Metcalf) Spencer of Wil-



mington, Vt. His father d. when he was only fourteen months old. Under the
then laws of Vermont it became necessary to have a guardian ap[)ointed over
the children. When, six years later, the mother married again, against the
wishes of the guardian, he took the children away from her and scattered them
in three dilTcrent towns. Daniel was particularly unfortunate in the abiding
place assigned to him. He was abused in various ways and finally whipperl
severely for not being able, at seven years of age, to hold a plow jjroperly for
plowing. This caused one of the neighbors to .secure the child's removal from
such cruel hands.

When Daniel was nine years old, the stc]) fatlier dciidod to remove a dis-
tance of one hundred and thirty miles northward. The children jjleaded so
hard to "go with mother" that the guardian consented, and in the deep snows
of 1846 the family finally reached the log cabin in the forest at the foot of Jay
^Mountain, near the Canadian line, in the town of Montgomery, Vt., that was
to be their pioneer home. Here Daniel passed five years among bears, cata-
mounts, deer and other wild animals, and endured the severe privations and toils
of pioneer life, where poverty held sway and the cry of hunger was not always
stilled. Here for one winter the boy used a piece of a broken slate to do his
"sums" on, but he pleaded so strong the next year for "a whole slate" that
from their scant supply of wool the mother carded with hand cards, and spun
the yarn from which the boy knit a pair of socks, carried them two miles to a
store, and exchanged them for a slate. Having "worked out" for seven months
in 1 85 1, to pay, literally, for "a dead horse," Daniel decided to return to civiliza-
tion, as his older brother had done at the same age. To gain his step-father's
consent it was arranged that the lame boy, then eleven and a half years old,
should go too. With their mother's blessing, and by the digging of potatoes by
Daniel, the boys secured the means by which they finally emerged from the woods
and returned to southern Vermont — the lame boy to his grandmother and
Daniel to " work out," by which means he was able to get better schooling and
to send some money to his mother.

An injury he had received in the logging camp at Montgomery finally drove
him from the farm to the factory; and he drove a milk cart for one season (1854)
in Waltham, Mass. This was the year of the riot in Boston over the return
of Anthony Burns to slavery, which nearby event greatly deepened young
Milliken's anti-slavery sentiments. In the campaign of 1856 he became an
enthusiastic agent for the sale of Fremont's Life. While travelling in this
capacitv he made his first political speech at a Fremont rally in Claremont,
N. H., when but nineteen years of age. In 1857 and 1858, in company with
his older brother, he sold books, maps and stencil goods in seventeen states
and listened to speeches by more than seventeen statesmen. He was for
several terms a student at the Springfield, \'t.. Seminary and the Claremont,
N. H., Academy.

In i860 Mr. Milliken married and settled in business at Brandon, Vt., as a
manufacturer of steel letters and stencil goods. He soon drifted into the news-
paper field and published the "Brandon Monitor" and later the "Vermont
Record." He removed with his family and paper to Brattleboro, Vt., in 1864.
While there he estabH.shed job printing offices in Brandon, Springfield, and W'a-
terbury, Vt., and issued editions of his paper from each, printing seven of the
eight pages at Brattleboro, and the eighth page was made up of local news in
each place and printed with the paper folded four thicknesses, something his


foreman, a practical printer, declared could not be done, but Milliken, who was
not a practical printer, declared that it could be done, and it was done. Under
his management the "Vermont Record" became the most noticeable and widely
circulated paper in the state. Through its columns Mr. MilHken established an
historic record as the first publisher who ever employed paid contributors or
used illustrations in Vermont. The most prominent people of the state were
among his subscribers, and frequent contributors to his paper. In Mr. Milli-
ken's interesting autograph collection is one received by him from Hon. Solomon
Foot, President of the United States Senate, written shortly before his death,
which he concluded by saying: "I have taken great interest in your paper for
its biographical and historical articles and many other things that I cannot
readily find elsewhere. It is the only paper of which I have kept the files for
reference." Mr. Milhken was the senior founder of the "Household" at Brat-
tleboro, Vt., and the "Cottage Hearth" of Boston, pubhcations that attained
wide prominence, and he is now the editor of the "Maiden Outlook." He has
deUvered various addresses and written much for the press in prose and poetry.
His pastoral poem, "The Valley Sunset," was highly commended by the poet
Longfellow and other leading critics. Mrs. Julia C. R. Dorr characterized it
as worthy to rank with Gray's "Elegy" and Buchanan Read's " Closing Scene."
Mr. Milliken removed from Vermont to Medway, Mass., in 1869, and to
Maiden, Mass., four years later, where he has since resided. He has been one
of the Trustees of Maiden's famous public hbrary for twenty-three years. He
has always been actively identified with political affairs, and was a representa-
tive from Maiden in the legislature of 1887 and 1888, where he was classed as
" one of the ten leaders of the House."

By Daniel Lake Milliken.

From ancient Maiden's sea-view heights

I've wandered lovingly to where
I view again my childhood sights

And breathe again Green Mountain air.

Beneath Ascutney's towering peak,

In robes of royal purple shrined,
The Eden of my youth I seek,

And leave all cark and care behind.

O'er memory's broad and sunny plains,

How oft I roamed to these fair hills,
Where pomp lets fall her golden chains

And Nature's sway the heart enthrills;

Where jaded care and creeping craft

Give place to merry manly toil;
Where wealth uprears no vaunting shaft,

Nor pinching want e'er cursed the soil;

Where rosy health breathes in the air

And hands are warm that passing meet;
Where men grow strong and women fair;

Where dwells content and sleep is sweet;

Where better far than ocean floods

Of musty precepts trite and old,
Are lessons fresh from wavy woods,

P'rom hillsides green and mountains bold:


Where thought has room to spread her wings

And shake her pinions full and free,
To mount above earth's petty things

And calmly sail the upper sea.

Where freedom, full in stature stands,

And draws the breath that eagles draw,
And guards with firm and loving hands.

Yet rules with mild and wholesome law.

Where "God's first Temples" still remain,

The crowning glory of these hills —
And passion dies — and follies vain —

And jicace her happy mission fills.

Bv yonder winding road o'er which

The ancient stage once rattling rolled.
Where Spring, from out her cotTers rich,

Flings far and wide her cups of gold.

Where Summer walks with flowery trail,

And scatters free her spicy scents,
While banners bright sweep hill and vale

When Autumn strikes his battle tents;

Where lulls the voice and charm the wiles,

That wake the brooklets dreamy flow.
When first it sighs for choral isles,

Away in ocean depths below;

Where mountain springs a nectar yield

Far sweeter than the ruby \vine.
And mountain airs o'er wood and field.

A blessing bnng from fir and pine;

Just where two roads together meet —

And still the friendly guide-board-man]
Directs the traveller's weary feet

And guards the spot from e\-il ban —

There stands, just as in years long past,

A lo\vroofcd cottage — small and white —
Where lilac blooms their fragrance cast

.-^nd heaven sends down a softened light,

And woods and hills with sheltering arms,

And silver streams and meadows green,
Throw round the spot a thousand charms.

My eyes have elsewhere never seen.

'Twas there my infant tongue first learned

A mother's holy name to speak.
And there a father's lips last turned

To print a blessing on my cheek.

Dear humble cot, fond childhood's home,

Where hand in hand strayed brothers three.
Alas! there's now but one to roam

The fields this side the jasper sea.

.^nd memory loves to picture yet

The little schoolhouse in the glade,
And oft reviews, with eyelids wet,

The merrs' band that round it straved.


Ah! forty years have come and fled,
Since I, a careless, happy child,

First that fount of learning sped
To taste its waters sweet and mild.

A sunny spot on memory's chart,
I see the dear old schoolroom yet;

And, clinging closely round my heart,
Its charms I never can •forget.

Its every look I still retain — •
The teacher's ])uliiit desk so tall,

The rows of benches, clumsy plain,
The charcoal sketches on the wall.

I hear, as in those golden days,

The rustling leaves of well-worn books.

And catch the gleam where mischief plays
In merry winks and tender looks.

The very trees I used to climb.
And in their arms securely rock,

Are rooted in my heart, nor time.

Nor tide shall e'er their clasp unlock.

The schoolhouse, then so old and gray.
Still stands below the noisy mill.

Where nature holds her ancient sway
Of wood and rock and murmuring rill.

The birds still flit from bush and bower,
Or graceful sway on bending boughs;

Still from the hills, when shadows lower
Sound tinkhng bells of grazing cows.

Sweet waters bubble in the spring
And sweeter berries ripen near.

And, as of yore, the children bring

Oif each, their teacher's heart to cheer.

And still when comes the noontide hour,
All sail on pleasure's swollen stream.

The teacher yields her sceptered power,
And mirlh and freedom rule supreme.

The boys with bustle storm and shout,
Still speed to tests of strength and skill,

Or roam, as then, the hills about.
Led on by fancy's own sweet \nll;

The girls still string fair daisy chains,
And deftly braid the rushes sweet.

And deck the hats of favorite swains.
While partial glances shift and meet.

And from the mammoth bowlder white.
Where rudely carved is many a name,

Young orators, with broken flight.
Still soar away to realms of fame.

And just as then, with happy look,
The children dance upon the green,

Or gaily sail adown the brook

Their birch-bark boats of silver sheen.


But statlcrcd wide of life's rough sea, —
Or anchored by the golden gates, —

Are they who sailed of old with me
Along those happy halcyon straits.

Yet green and dear, in storm and shine,
Till life's December ebbs and ends,

Will be those days of "auld lang syne,"

When life was May and friends were friends.

And old .-Xcaflemy scenes come back,

And faces fond before me rise.
That long have lighted memor\''s track

.\nd held my heart with tender ties.

Those dear old walls with proud renown,
Still grace the brow of "Science Hill,"

Where, bright above the throbbing town.
The torch of learning burneth still.

Romantic walled, by happy fate,

"The clustering spires" of Springfield rise,
Where foaming waters congregate,

To speed the wheels of enterprise.

The rainbow's arch o'erhang the Falls;

Below the foam-flakes Hghtly sail;
The weary moss hangs on the walls

Down which her tears forever trail.

And gazing down the stream remote.
Where cooling shadows kiss the shores,

I see a happy freighted boat,

With pleasure dipping light the oars.

And floating slowly down the stream,

A glossy duck I nearer spy.
While bending branches nod and gleam,

Above the river's mirrored sky. .

On yonder slopes graze peaceful flocks;

In ripeness bends the golden grain;
The grapes are purpling on the rocks,

Slow homeward winds the lumbering wain.

A dreamy haze veils hill and plain,

A dreamy look all nature wears;
.\ dreamy wave creeps o'er my brain

And drowns the faintest dream of cares.

The downy ghosts of vanished flowers

Are sailing slowly o'er the vale;
The partridge drums in leafy bowers.

And distant pipes the whistling quail.

On snow-white seas the buckwheat nod
.^nd sip the bees — in dreaming lost;

While flashing plumes of golden-rod
P'oretell the coming reign of frost.

The orchards glow with ripened fruit;

The squirrels chatter in the trees;
The sumac dons a brighter suit

As .Autumn whispers in the breeze.


Soon woodbine fires will stream high up
The trees and creep along the wall;

The autumn browns the acorn's cup,
And golden leaves begin to fall.

The languid heart of Summer, faint,
In murmurs soft of shrunken rills

Pours out her dreamy, dull complaint
Adown the brown and circling hills.

There roamed of yore the chieftain free,
And loudly wound the hunter's horn;

Where dusky lovers danced in glee

Now graceful waves the tasselled corn.

P"ar distant sounds the rumbling train.
Nor breaks the peaceful slumbers deep,

Where on the turf-crowned, daisied plain.
The village dead together sleep.

There rest the sturdy men of yore.
Who proudly swung the flail and axe.

Whose liint-locks guarded well each door
Nor king could wring from them a tax.

True men! whom nature taught to tread
The mountain steep, the forest wide;

Who scorned the path of ease, and led
The van in freedom's flowing tide.

There silent sleep those noble dames
Whose' hearts a kindred fire had caught.

While from the morn to sunset flames,
The blue-eyed flax they deftly wrought.

Their sons, who later fought in blu'.\
And sires, who stood with Allen, meet.

To rest in peace and honor true.

Their country's flag their winding sheet.

With solemn service round their tombs.
As each returning Spring appears,

Full garlands sweet — May's fairest blooms —
And veterans drop their silent tears.

There roses bloom above the dust.
To me my blood and memory dear;

And there in God's good time entrust.
Ye fates, the clay that crowns m\- bier.

The orange robes of evening trail
Along the peaceful valley's rim;

On high the cloud-ships slowly sail;
Below the swallows circling skim.

The falling waters chant sublime
Their songs of everlasting life;

The rapids blend a softer chime ■
And men forget their babbling strile.

The river's breatli makes cool my brow
And sheds around perpetual dews;

The King of Day forgets his vow.
Nor longer paints in rainbow hues.


He brightly gilds the village spires,
Then soft and still away he hies

To light anew his mountain fires
And burnish up the western skies.

His flames o'er sombre forests crowds
Swec]) grandly to the mountain's crest,

Beneath a gorgeous robe of clouds,
Then calm and slow he sinks to rest.

The sunllower bows her stately head —
Her golden lashes folds — and sighs,

Because she thinks the lover dead

Her heart has worshipped in the skies.

The shy mimosa feels a dart —

Her cjuivering hands together close —

For like the complex human heart,
A shadow's lightest touch she knows.

As fainter grows the dying day

A softer tinge o'ersprcads the west;

The whispering leaves grow tired of play;
Nor longer swings the hang-bird's nest.

The breath of flowers perfumes the air;

The bees, by straightest lines and swift,
Their honied treasures hiveward bear

From fields where clovers bloom and dritt.

The cuckoo calls with softer ring;

The crows now slowly homeward f^y;
The hawk sails low, on noiseless wing,

And tlirough the pines soft breezes sigh.

The patient ox, relieved from toil.
With pawing hoof and plowing horn

Upturns the turfy pasture soil,
To test his freedom, newly born.

Behind the cows — that wend the lane,
With kindly look and matron ways —

The grandsirc walks, with oaken cane,
And thoughts that stray to other days.

Belated farm teams, line on line

Now homeward turn from store and mill

While insect bands, with music fine
And quaint, begin their evening drill.

Like some strange goblin of a dream
The blundering bat the soft air cleaves;

The fields with dancing midges team;
And there's a twitter 'neath the eaves.

On flapping wing the night hawks peep
Amid the gathering dews and damps,

Or downward dive with whirring sweep.
Where fireflies swing their evening lamps.

The lilies their white banners furl;

The brown thrush sings her sweetest sc^ng;
On tipsy wing the beetles whirl.

And shadowy spectres round us throng.

The frogs their trombone chorus pour;
The treetoad sounds his favorite trill;


And echoes clear, from hill and shore,
The lonely cry of the whip-poor-will.

The crickets pipe with merry hearts;

The robin chants his evening hymn;
With dew-wet feet the day departs,

EnwTapped in shadows gray and dim.

The mellow chime of evening bells

Floats softly on the dewy air;
The silent march of Time re-tells,

And calls the grateful heart to prayer.

Now TwiHght fair, with pensive mien.
Steals softly from the darkening west.

And, hovering night and day between.
Gives to the weary hamlet rest.

She gently stays the hum of mills
Where genii wave their fairy wands;

The heart with freedom bounding thrill?
Beneath the sway of softer hands.

She gathers home to hill and dale
The thrifty sons of toil and thought,

And over mountain, rill, and vale

She walks with peace and mercy fraught.

She cools the heated brow of pain;

She soothes the lonely heart of grief;
She checks the race for greed and gain,

And gives from care a sweet relief.

She brings the boatman to the shore;

Calls home the dove to coo and croon;
She clasps fond lovers' hands once more

Beneath the rising mellow moon.

She brings the sire a welcome sweet —
From meny babes and waiting wife —

That scatters roses round his feet.
And lightens all the toils of life.

She wraps the hills in mists above.

While one by one, like stars of heaven,

A thousand village lights flash out
Their bright electric-beams of even.

The fireside — dearest spot on earth —
She circles with a merry throng;

She lights the eye of youth with mirth,
And cheers the heart of age ^vith song.

She fills again the vacant seat.

Where meet the gathered household-band,
With vanished forms we used to greet

So oft, close clasping hand in hand.

She calls back life's unclouded spring,
When free and stainless was the soul;

Online LibraryG. T. (Gideon Tibbetts) RidlonHistory of the families Millingas and Millanges of Saxony and Normandy, comprising genealogies and biographies of their posterity surnamed Milliken, Millikin, Millikan, Millican, Milligan, Mulliken and Mullikin, A. D. 800-A. D. 1907; containing names of thirty thousand persons, with copious notes on → online text (page 37 of 109)