At the foot of a hill, and in a valley between the two lakes of Sandwich, formerly known as the Upper and Lower Mill Ponds, stands a venerable house, now the property of Mr. Crane; which could it speak, would reveal to us much interesting knowledge, of which at present we are especially in quest.

In the days of Washington, this is known to have been the home of Paul and Abigail Wing; great grand parents, and great great grand parents of many now present, and also great grand children of Daniel Wing from whose mother Deborah we are all descended.

This place was, in all probability, not only the home of Zaccheus Wing, father of Paul, but also of Daniel Jr., grand father of Paul and who was the grandson of Deborah. So that without doubt, many descendants lived in this house, who had shaken the hands of our illustrious ancestor, Deborah Wing, for Paul Wing's grand father, (Daniel Jr.,) was Deborah Wing's grandson. Living, as these people did, in or near the very place where the first settlement of the Wing family was made, and not partaking of the environments of other localities, they retained evidently more of the characteristics and individualities of the primitive Wings than did those who were more widely scattered.

Within the memory of the present generation the old well sweep and its oaken bucket was an antiquity as well as a curiosity to other inhabitants of the town. The gate-way or entrance to the gounds of this old homestead was suggestive of the Triumphial Arch at Rome, with its two large pillars or posts on either side of the road, connected scross the top by a heavy joist, and sufficiently high for a big load of hay to pass under and between. From the lower part of the left post swung an immense gate, so heavy that it was necessary to have a support from the right side of it to the upper corner of the left high post.

From the entrance, you ascend a hill, the top of which they chose for the location of the barn, commanding a magnificient view of the ocean. In the distance, hills, valleys, forests and lakes, all combining to form a charming picture, but entirely lost on the dumb brutes who could have no appreciation of the beauty surrounding them.

Then on the other side of this hill, at the foot, secluded and quiet they built their house.

Evidently their thoughts were not of ease and comfort when they separated these building so far apart. Imagine the amount of time and strength exhausted in just the work of attending to the cattle in summer time, but when the storms came and the snows gathered, of those old severe New England winters, little wonder that the sons of Paul Wing are described as large stalwart men; they had ample opportunity for physical development.

Paul Wing, the grandson of the grandson of Deborah Wing, married in the year 1763 his cousin Samuel Wing's daughter Abigail Wing and had a large family, which according to Dr. Conway P. Wing's researches "Remained for many years unbroken at the paternal residence, near the spot, which had been in the posession of Daniel Wing's descendants from the earliest settlement of Sandwich; and before the door of the present building is a granite stepping stone, on which has been cut the initial of the name of the heads of the family."

In the pubished journal of John Wiggin, who was a noted minister of the Society of Friends, (a copy of which I have here, and which is over a hundred years old), we find printed, under the date of tenth month, 1797, "On the seventh day we rode to Paul Wing's where I lodged. In his family are five precious daughter: Hepzibah, Beulah, Content, triphosa, and Lydia, and several sons who seemed hopeful, among whom with their worthy parents so sweet a spirit seemed to prevail that the house felt like a paradise."

In a recent conversation with the first owner of the property after it passed out of the Wing family, Mrs. Elwell of Cambridge, she remarked that there was always such a quiet and peaceful restfullness about the place, which she could only account for by its being the prevading Quaker spirit of the old families who had lived there.

Of those eleven children of Paul and Abigail Wing, Deborah was the eldest, who married Joseph Hoxie of East Sandwich, and had gone to her new home at the time of John Wiggin's visit.

She was the grandmother of Deborah Wing Crossman of Lynn, Prof. Henry N. Hoxie of Philadelphia and others, including a large family of loving and congenial cousins.

Hepzibah married Estes Newhall of Lynn and Beulah, Abijah Purington of Salem, both marriages occuring on the same day, the sisters going to live in towns only ten miles apart.

Samuel, the oldest son, grandfather of Asa Wing of Philadelphia and several others, married Anna Rodgers and lived in the house over the hill towards town, now the home of Mrs. Elizabeth Wing, but in those days called "T'other house." These two homes, remote as they were from the village, but comparatively near together, reminded one of the relation that existed between their occupants, that of brothers.

In 1811, we find that leave was granted to Samuel, Paul and Eben Wing to erect a dam and works of a cotton factory, on the stream between the upper and lower ponds in Sandwich village, at a place near "Wolf Trap Neck", so called, where now stands the Heald Braid Works. This "Cotton Mill, was operated several years by the three brothers and then converted into a Tack Factory.

Content Wing, the grandmother of the writer, married Henry Russell of Providence, R.I., but after a few years, returned to the home of her parents (Paul and Abigail Wing) a widow with three little children.

In a few months, when she had prepared a home for herself and family and moved into it, my father, Henry Russell, Jr., the youngest, remembering probably, the petting he had received as the baby, cried to go back to the old home just for a few days and was allowed to do so. The few days lengthened into twenty-five years, so that uncle Eben, uncle Paul, Jr., and aunt Lydia came into the relation of adopted parents to him.

Quoting from "The Wing Family Book" written by Rev. Conway P. Wing, the author says "The members of this family can best be described in the words of Dr. Henry Russell in a reply to inquiries respecting a home he so long enjoyed.

"In extreme old age Paul Wing became much enfeebled in mind, yet in all his conversation and life he exhibited the benevolence and kindness which were prominent in his better days.

His wife Abigail was short of stature but well developed, with a high forehead. Her benevolence and deep interest in every person she knew, were plainly seen. A little boy, adopted into the family, received from her the affection of a mother, and none were allowed to relieve her of the care of this child as long as she could walk.

The Mashpee Indians, who often visited her and were employed about the house, speak of her even at this late period (1874) with warm gratitude for the many tokens of kindness she and her family bestowed upon them.

Unlike her, her eleven children were of more than medium height and weight, with large features, prominent roman noses and strong muscular development. The dignified carriage of Samuel, Paul, Jr., and Ebenezer dressed in Friends' attire, with their broad-brimmed hats, whate cravats and standing collars, and seated in the gallery of the Friends' meeting house, ususally made a strong impression upon all, and especially upon strangers.

Paul, Jr., Ebenezer and Lydia lived together on the old homestead, and in the same house where they were born, making one family for nearly half a century. During that time neither of them were married, and the property was possessed in common. When one had a new garment the other had one also, and usually of the same piece. Each had access to the same purse and in great harmony and brotherly love. When Paul finally married Anna Dennis of Portsmouth, R.I., the estate remained undivided, Lydia and Ebenezer making one family and Paul and his wife another, the common dwelling house having been reconstructed for two families.

The Quarterly Meeting, which were annually held in Sandwich, were occasions for the exercise of a large hospitality. The writer has known twenty-one Friends from Nantucket, besides many from other parts, to lodge there in one night. For more than thirty years on such occasion they were in the habit of giving up their beds to strangers and sleeping in the attics.

In those days, before railrods were constructed in this region, and when people came with horses and carriages, it wass no small labor to provide for all. Everything was, however, cheerfully done, and even the boys were ambitious to outdo their neighbors and cousins.

The great east room, with high-backed chairs filled with the erect forms of these many Friends was my first impression of Quakerism.

I was required by my aunt Lydia to be with her at the door when these strangers arrived and (though I could not have been more than four or five years old) to shake hands with every one.

The separtations caused by the marriages or calls of business in this family of eleven children were occasions for much regret to the parents and remaining portion of the household; and on the other hand the family greetings and reunions of relatives of several generations were seasons of extraordinary joyousness. Those of them whose relationship was remore, it was often said by observers seemed to love each other more tenderly than nearer connections in other families.

Paul, Jr., wes naturally reserved, sedate and firm, but kind and beloved. It was said of him by a citizen of Sandwich when he died, that his equal was not left in town.

Ebenezer was of a different temperament. At twenty-five years he was frequenty complimented as the handsomest man in Sandwich. His cheeks were red, his eyes dark chesnut with a smiling expression that almost talked. He had large language, and was good at telling a story or giving a joke. His mirthfulness was so extreme that it was commonly said to be as good as a play to hear "Uncle Eben" relate what he had seen and heard.

Content Russell was of the same temperament and much resembled him in person. Her mind was well cultivated and stored with much reading.

Lydia H., the last survivor and most feeble of the family, was more like her brother Paul. Though for many years an invalid, her slender frame and constitution encounted disease with remarkable energy and endurance. Her indefatigable labors in behalf of her aged mother, her two brothers and her nephew, the writer, can never be forgotten.

Most of the Wings were devoted to agriculture and were noted for having good farms, large orchards and a great variety of fruits. An order for twenty bushels of apples, of which no two half bushels should be of the same kind, was complied with without exhausting the variety of sorts.

Many of the name, however, were distinguished for a mechanical genius. Ebenezer at nineteen, while a journeyman at Pawtucket, R.I., was offered a salary of a thousand dollars a year if he would remain, but he chose rather to return to his paternal home.

The brother Samuel also, and his children, were remarkable for mechanical ingenuity

Most of the kindred have been much inclined to the acquisition of property, especially of landed estate.

The earlier families usually had a large number of children. Each of three generations in one line had not less than eleven, but of late the average has been not more than three or four to a family.

Most of the progenitors were also long lived, a characteristic which has been better kept up."

The only occupants of this house who come within my memory were uncle Eben and aunt Lydia, and to me as a child their mode of living seemed different from that of any other family, more like the descriptions of "Old Colonial Days."

At one side of the living room or kitchen, near the large open fire-place stood the spinning wheel and like "Helen's Babies," we children "Loved to see the wheels go round."

Across, and on the other side, was the old family clock, so faithfully ticking away the minutes, and hourly reminding them of the time of day; nor was it necessary for them to consult the almanac to know when a new moon appeared or even to look out of doors and see what its phases were for the old family relic knew it all and disclosed it every time. This I think is now the property of Mr. Ebenezer Wing Hoxie of Worchester, Mass.

Next to the old clock stood uncle Eben's desk, sacred to his belongings, with its round brass rings, ornamental as well as useful.

The cheerful, blazing open wood fire was never known to be missing summer or winter, and in the coldest weather often required the strenght of two men to bring in and place the back log.

Over this fire place the family cooking was all done, where the kettle was hung by a swinging crane and raised or lowered by iron hooks shaped like the letter S. Once a week the great oven beside the fire place was heated and bread, pies and cake, also pork and beans, were baked. No cook stove ever found its way into that house as long as the Wings lived there, and only for the last very few years could they be prevailed upon to have a wood stove in the front room.

Usually the open fire place afforded sufficient light for the limited occupations of the evening, but if other was needed, then a candle was used, and always most carefully and economically, for they were all of home manufacture, and the tiresome work of repeating dipping a double piece of wick into the melted tallow which had to be reheated each time the candle took a new coating, was not easily forgotten.

A large shell served as a dinner horn, but it was perfectly safe in the hands of the children, as only aunt Lydia had the skill to make it sound, and then it reminded one of the trumpet of Gabriel.

The gowns which aunt Lydia wore had a style peculiar to herself and I used to wonder if like Bayard Taylor's "Quaker Widow" they were ever "Too simple for her taste" and whether "She wanted lace around the neck and a ribbon at the waist," but she was always a picture of neatness and an example of quite grace.

The stories of her childhood days were full of interest. Her horse-bakc rides on a pillion behind her mother to attend the Quarterly Meetings of Friends, some thirty miles away, was a novelty to which we were strangers.

The conduct of the then rising generation to her was often unaccountable, frequently admonishing us that when she was young "Children were seen and not heard," but she was a dear good soul and her ideas of propriety were the result of her education and not an error of the heart.

Uncle Eben, as has been read, was noted for his fund of anecdotes and stories. Especially were the little ones pleased when he was seen approaching.

For us children he ususally began "When I was a little boy," so that to me was the impression that it must have been a special privilege to have been a boy, and a boy too, at the time when so many things of interest occurred to him, not realizing then that these scenes and incidents were given to us by one who was especially qualified to interest the children, and I have heard from older lips that no matter how well a story was told, uncle Eben could always tell a better one.

Their quiet farm life had little change or incident, but one night after there had been a sale of cattle or farm produce to some extent, a slight noise in the living room adjoining his bed room aroused uncle Eben from sleep. He sprang out of bed only to have his bed room door drawn together and held by some one. Quietly he slipped into the front room and through the glass over the door into the kitchen he watched two men possess themselves of his hard earned money from the old desk where he had left it. He made no attempt to confront them but in town, the next day, he simply told the facts, with-holding the names of the offenders. Within two days the money was returned.

Opposite the front door of the house, and across the lawn, stood a neat building which was called the chaise-house, for uncle Eben rode in the last old fashioned "One Horse Shay" that was ever seen in town.

Behind this was the orchard mentioned, where so many varieties of apples were found. It was, however, a standing joke among us to notice that if the name of any especial variety was ever forgotten, it was always termed "The Chaise-house Apple."

Quite a distance from the place where this house now stands, near the head of the upper lake, in my childhood days stood another, known as "The Old Orchard," the last vestige of which has long since passed away, so that it must have been very old at that time.

It was often a wonder to me that it should have been placed so far from the house, but now, remembering an incident of that time, it does not seem so strange.

I recall my father's taking me by the hand and leading me to a hollow between that orchard and the house, and telling me on that spot stood the old house where our first ancestors in this country lived. That memory always stayed with me, but until recently I have been unable to locate the exact place. Now with the assistance of Mrs. Elwell I am able to do so. When they purchased this property some dozen of fifteen years ago, she tells me, her curiosity was arounsed to know what that peculiar looking place meant.

At that time several of the last generation were living and from them she learned the fact that it was the "Cellar Hollow" where the house stood of the first Wing settlers in America.

This brother and sister, uncle Eben and aunt Lydia, the last Wings to occupy this house, living so apart from the rest of the world but having so much in common of the memories of by gone days, seemed like a connecting link between the past and present generations.