CLARENCE EUGENE PEARSALL, son of George
Alfred Pearsall, Chapter 37, Section 8; born January 29,
1863; resided in Eureka, Humboldt Co., California; died
October 3, 1928, in San Francisco, California; married
first, September 9, 1886, Gertrude Edna Andrews, daughter of
Alonzo Andrews and his wife Caroline E. Long of Brookville,
Pa. Gertrude E. Andrews was born April 22, 1869, and died
April 12, 1891; buried at Brookville, Pa. He married second
January 16, 1898, Hettie May Wilson, daughter of David
Wilson and his wife
Hettie Alzeda Johnson. She was born April 24, 1874. No
children.
During the summer vacations spent on my grandfather’s farm
in Pennsylvania, I was most
Pleasantly entertained when he so frequently spoke of his
father Peter Pearsall, and related anecdotes of his own
boyhood spent on the farm near Saratoga Springs in New York
State. My curiosity was aroused, and all my years I had
longed to see the place where he had lived as a boy. As a
natural sequence, a promise made in the year 1915 to my aunt
and sister to investigate their children’s eligibility to
membership in “The Sons and Daughters of the American
Revolution.” revived these fond
Recollections and re-kindled old desires to visit the Peter
Pearsall farm. After a short visit the next year at my
former home in Pennsylvania, I hastened to New York City,
and thence to Saratoga Springs, where, with almost childish
anticipation, I expected to find the Pearsalls thicker than
grasshoppers in a Kansas corn field. To my great
disappointment, not one was to be found, save those who
reposed in the cemeteries. Unable to ascertain
Whence the living had gone, I determined to locate, if
possible, the old Pearsall farm and pay a visit to the
scenes to often depicted to me by my grandfather in boyhood.
I therefore
Repaired to Ballston Spa, County Seat of Saratoga County,
where a careful perusal of the index of volume after volume
revealed absolutely nothing of interest. Bitterly
disappointed I resolved to journey to Albany and consult the
records there. Then the motto “Try, try again” came to mind
so I decided to make a more thorough search at Ballston
before my departure. This time my efforts were rewarded. I
found a deed signed by George Pearsall, Jr. and his wife
Priscilla in which the lands were described as being part of
the Peter Pearsall farm, bought by John Muller and being
part of Lots 1 and 4 of subdivision of lot 1, of the 18th
enlargement, by which technical language the records located
the property for me. This information in hand, I returned to
Saratoga Springs, engaged an automobile and drove out on the
highway towards Lake George. When the odometer clicked off
two miles, the drier stopped as previously directed and I
alighted. No one lived At this particular point so after a
careful survey of the surrounding country, we drove a mile
distant to a brick house, which turned out to be the former
home of the Brills. There I was informed that we had passed
the Pearsall farm, so we returned to the cross roads, which
they informed me, was formerly known as Pearsall’s Corners.
I alighted from the auto and leisurely walked about the old
farm. A very nice lady, very nearly a relation, in that here
sister had married into the Brill family, informed me that
I was in the promised land of my childhood. I picked wild
cherries from a tall tree along the roadside, which had no
doubt been planted by Peter Pearsall, and as I ate the
delicious ripe cherries, I dreamed of the dim and distant
past when my grandfather as a boy ad probably enjoyed fruit
from the same tree.
I wandered about the old farm and memory pictures, faded in
the lapse of years, were gradually restored. There was
Peter’s old saw mill, now used as a granary. The old white
pine stumps in the pond were relics of the great pine forest
Peter had felled for the mill. Beyond the main thoroughfare
was Peter’s old home, a two story structure of old Dutch
colonial style. True it was badly in need of repairs, still
it retained its lines of former grace and grandeur. The
interior was formerly in keeping with the exterior. I
marveled that a home of this character should have been
built upon a farm in those days. The furniture, of which
grandfather had often spoken, was missing but the cartulary,
or strong box, in which, according to the old English
custom of my ancestors, the deeds, wills, other important
papers and treasures were kept, remained and at the present
is used by the occupants of the house as a wood box.
At the base of a low range of hills, back of the house,
nestled in a grove of oak and wild cherry, is the family
burying ground where my great grandmother, Mary Burtis
Pearsall and my great great grandfather George Pearsall and
his second wife repose waiting for the great day of
judgment. On that cold gray autumn day, carried away with
enthusiasm, my spirits soared to the very highest, and, as I
sauntered about this beautiful, highly cultivated farm, that
fairly teemed with interest, my one regret was that Peter
Pearsall ever allowed so valuable a farm to slip away from
him; and I wondered what could have been the cause, little
dreaming that I should later learn that It was because of
his very adherence to the customs of his ancestors. Strange
as it may seem, another Pilgrim, on a similar mission, from
that far off state where the setting sun casts its brilliant
rays through the Golden Gate, crossed my path on the old
farm, that afternoon; a descendant of John Brill, brother of
my grandmother, Deborah-Ann Brill-Pearsall. Prior to this,
neither of us had known of the existence of the other. She
passed on and I returned to my dreams. Awakened therefrom by
the rudely honking auto horn, I was reminded of the lateness
of the hour. Happy with the results of the day, I returned
to Saratoga Springs, resolved to write the genealogy of my
immediate branch of the family. As I spent considerable time
and money unraveling the threads of my ancestry, I had to
call upon those who were not in my immediate family, and I
soon accumulated a wealth of material relative to other
lines. The thought, that there might be others equally as
interested as I, determined me to broaden my work so as to
include all of the Pearsalls in America. Later I came in
touch with a branch of the family in Australia and through
them came to know the cousins in England. So almost before I
knew it I had complied material for a history of the family,
starting from living members of the family on both sides of
the ocean and in Australia as well, an incident which, of
itself, I am told is very remarkable in works in this kind.
Glenn Pearsall discovered Peter Pearsalls house survived
after all of these years.
There are some loveyly pictures taken by Glenn of
Peter Pearsall's home.
If you would like to view them please (
CLICK HERE)
Child of first marriage. --
1. Henry Cornell Pearsall, born March 4, 1891; died March
23, 1891.
Vol. I, chapter one