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(what is the lineage of this Benjamen Brockway?)
Benjamin Brockway had married Elizabeth Fellows, a daughter of William Linus and Betsy Fellows. They had three children when they came to the Island. Benjamin was a tall, curly-haired blond. He was a boat builder and carpenter. One record lists him as a sawyer. We know he was a farmer if wife and children helped him. A jolly, good-natured man who liked to fish. He and his brother-in-law, Charles H. Fellows, dug wells in the neighborhood, including his own and ours. His is sixty feet deep. I have seen him climb over the well curb when the rope broke and descend the well to get the bucket. He would place a foot first on one side and then on the other. When he recovered the bucket he would tiptoe up, as he had descended. His smiling face would appear over the well curb and I would breathe freely again. I have many pleasant memories of him.
Mrs. Brockway was fat. Not tall, she was round like a pumpkin. She was a very pretty girl, they tell me. The first time I saw her she was baking cookies. It was the morning after we moved into our home. Her daughter Ida, a girl of my age, came in while we were having breakfast and asked Kate and me to go "wintergreening". We took our little pails and went home with her so she could get her pail. Through Mrs. Brockway's open door was the end of a rail. The other end of the rail was in the side door of the kitchen range fire box. The stove stood opposite the door, making this arrangement possible. She gave us cookies and three happy little girls got acquainted while we filled our pails with the biggest berries I've ever seen, almost as big as marbles. Some of the berries cracked open their skins.
Mrs. Brockway was a great worker. She would spin and knit and weave homespun cloth and rag carpets, no only for her own use but to sell. She made her own dyes and did the dyeing. Ida used to help her. The Brockway family was always up early in the morning. My father was an early riser too. How often have I heard him come in the house and call Mother. He would say, "Mate, get up. Mrs. Brockway's had her breakfast two hours ago." Mrs. Brockway used to tell me stories of the past. One story was of the night her baby died. She held the baby in her arms. Suddenly the empty cradle began to rock all by itself. She knew then the baby would die. It did.
Another story, Her son James, a young man, was walking home from Camden one dark night in July. He took the short cut by way of Holmes Road. As he approached Samuel Holmes' vacant house he was startled to see a light that looked like a lantern bobbing about in the field behind the house and disappear into the woods. James too to his heels and rant he rest of the way home. Mrs. Brockway said, "It was Samuel's ghost, looking for his lost knee."
W. G. Jackson -
This family came to Whiskey Island before 1862. They lived across the road from the Ezekiel Dunham place. I know very little about them. His house was gone before we came. I used to stop and look for treasure on my way to and from Bitz' Store. All I ever found was gooseberries growing in the yard. They had a son, Stephen, listed sawyer, in the history of the 117th Regt. In the Directory of 1869 W. G. Jackson is listed lot 64, farmer, 110 acres. Ezekiel Dunham isn't mentioned.
http://townofvienna.org/content/History
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