Guilford's Pioneer History (Chenango County, NY)
Norwich Sun, June 2, 1931
Guilford: The courage, the love of adventure, the devotion, the endurance, the romance, and the tragedy in the lives of the men whose names will appear on the Guilford Revolutionary Memorial are well nigh hidden from the eyes of their busy, rushing descendants. Let us turn a leaf backward and see what we may read that will cause us a thrill of honest pride, and perhaps a desire to do honor to our forebears.
If, on some sunny day, you will climb the hills to the Old Four Corners burying ground, the glorious view will amply reward your effort, but it is not the view we seek. We pause at the grave of Tobias Houk, of whom you have heard before, and pass on toward the sunset until we find some oldtime sandstone markers with these inscriptions, "Capt. Joseph Rhodes, died Dec. 17, 1830, and his wife Ann, who died Oct. 11, 1840." At a little distance is a small field stone with the simple inscription, "Phillis,--No More." Why? Because she was a slave belonging to Ann (Champlin) Rhodes, and slaves bore the names of their owners.
Joseph Rhodes was born in South Kingstown, R.I., in 1751. He was the third of the eleven children of Col. James Rhodes. The history of Stonington tells us, "Some of the best people of Stonington have descended from Col. James Rhodes."
Joseph spent his boyhood in Westerly, R.I., and when trouble with England was brewing and his father Col. James, was collecting war material from Black Island for the "rebels" and acting as Deputy in the legislature for the town of Westerly, young Joseph was busy learning to be a soldier. The rugged usage of those days developed boys into men at an early age, and in 1776, when Joseph was eighteen, we find him commissioned as an ensign (and Lieutenant) in Col. James Stanton's regiment.
After the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown in 1781, Joseph felt at liberty to attend to his personal affairs, and we find this record, "Rhodes, Joseph, of Col. James of Stonington, and Nancy (Ann) Champlin of Col. Christopher of Charlestown, married by Joseph Crandall, Justice, Dec. 9, 1781."
Joseph's father-in-law, Col. Christopher Champlin was one of the founders of the Narragansett Episcopal church, and "possessed in one tract over 1000 acres, kept 35 horses, 55 cows, 6 to 700 sheep and a proportionate number of slaves."
When Ann joined her fortune with Joseph Rhodes, her slave Phillis, went with her--hence the modest stone on Capt. Joseph's plot, marking the resting place of one whose life was devotion,. Slavery was abolished in R.I., in 1784, but Phillis stayed with her beloved mistress.
After our independence was established, Joseph became a seaman. The executive ability early developed in him, soon placed him in command of one of the famous clipper ships, and ever after he was Capt. Joseph Rhodes. While his family was happy at Watch Hill, R.I., he carried the trade of the young republic to China, Japan and India. All went well until the growing insolence of the British seamen caused the passage of the embargo act in 1807.
All American shipping was tied up at the wharves and after five years of struggle and uncertainty, Joseph Rhodes, at the age of fifty-four, determined to try to better his fortunes by going west. A soldier and a sailor, he came to anchor within sight of his last resting place.
A Neighbor, Jonathan Nash, had been before him to "the hills of the Unadillas" and built the first frame house in the vicinity of North Guilford. For some unknown reason, he sold his holdings to Capt. Rhodes, who in 1812, with his family began the six weeks journey from Watch Hill to Guilford. they went by boat to New York City. There transhipped to some sort of craft that crept up the Hudson to Albany. As Fulton's steam boat had not yet ceased to be suspected of being in league with the devil, it would seem that the boat to Albany must have trusted to the uncertain winds. From Albany the gently matured Ann and her family were bounced and jolted in ox carts to nearly the highest hill in Chenango county. The early settlers feared malaria in the valleys, hence avoided it.
Can you picture the state of mind of a martinet of the quarter deck, who, from 1812 to his release in 1830, found himself moored to the top of a Guilford Hill with only the North Pond on which to float a boat? Nevertheless, he "carried on" and his many descendants have every reason to honor his memory not only as a Revolutionary Soldier, but also as a real man.
[Author unknown]
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