Maria Storm
married Jacob Adams, the son of an Englishman. His family had lived for
generations in a lovely portion of the Midlands called Shropshire, but you can’t eat even the prettiest landscape. Today
Shropshire is officially touted as having “hills of outstanding beauty,” but
that’s just Chamber of Commerce-type poppycock. It’s still a rural, sparsely
populated backwater. Its official flower is the round-leafed sundew, which grows
in bogs and eats bugs.
Bogs.
Carnivorous plants. Abysmal poverty. Whee.
Photo by Jan Raes |
Thomas
Ignatius Adams was no slouch himself. In 1756, when he was 21, he purchased 118
acres of prime Conewago Township land that became known as “Adams Choice.” First he
built his family a log cabin, and eventually replaced it with a brick
farmhouse. He and Magdalena provided their nine children with at least eight
beds, cooked their meals on two five-plate iron stoves, and had a “Walnut
Dyning Table” to sit their pewter dinnerware on. For special occasions, food
was served in “Delf Bowls” (from the Netherlands); when not in use, the
crockery was stored in a corner “cubart.” They also had a clock, a looking
glass, and a few books.
The farm
itself flourished: Fields waving with wheat, barley and rye, and pastures
supporting 11 horses, 25 cows, two steers, three bulls, 28 sheep, four lambs
and 10 shoats.
The new
land was good to Thomas, and he loved it enough to fight for it. Old records
credit him with both “Provincial and Revolutionary Service”. According to the
National Archives, Captain Adams served in one of the ”Three Independent
Companies and First Regiment of Maryland Regulars in the Service of the United
Colonies commanded by Colonel Smallwood in September and October 1776.”
Alas,
Thomas’s career as a Patriot was short. He died on 5 December 1776. Was he
wounded in action? Did he die from a farm accident, or merely catch a bad cold?
I can’t find his cause of death anywhere.
This
Shropshire-born man’s slate tombstone was, oddly, inscribed in German. I
suppose Magdalena wanted to remind her Germanic neighbors of her late husband’s
piety. This is an English translation of his epitaph: Now my struggle has come to an end. My run is complete. I go to my
Jesus and say to you all good night.
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