ANCESTRY

John Conwell, the English Ancestor who fought for the Preservation of the English Language.  Martin Conwell of Maryland.  A Runaway Marriage.  The Parents of Russell Conwell.

When the Norman-French overran England and threatened to sweep from out the island the English language, many time-honored English customs, and all that those loyal early Britons held dear, a doughty Englishman, John Conwell, took up cudgels in their defence.  Long and bitter was the struggle he waged to preserve the English language.  Insidious and steady were the encroachments of the Norman-French tongue.  The storm centre was the Castle school, for John Conwell realized that the language of the child of to-day is the language of the man of to-morrow.  Right royal was the battle, for it was in those old feudal days of strong feeling and bitter, bloody partisanship.  But this plucky Briton stood to his guns until he won.  Norman-French was beaten back, English was taught in the schools, and preserved in the speech of that day.

It was a tale that was told his children and his children’s children.  It was a tradition that grew into their blood—­the story of perseverance, the story of a fight against oppression and injustice.  “Blood” is after all but family traditions and family ideals, and this fighting ancestor handed down to his descendants an inheritance of greater worth than royal lineage or feudal castle.  The centuries rolled away, a new world was discovered, and the progressive, energetic Conwell family were not to be held back when adventure beckoned.  Two members of it came to America.  Courage of a high order, enthusiasm, faith, must they have had, or the call to cross a perilous, pathless ocean, to brave unknown dangers in a new world would have found no response in their hearts.  They settled in Maryland and into this fighting pioneer blood entered that strange magic influence of the South, which makes for romance, for imagination, for the poetic and ideal in temperament.

[Illustration:  Miranda Conwell]

Of this family came Martin Conwell, of Baltimore, hot-blooded, proud, who in 1810, visiting a college chum in western Massachusetts, met and fell in love with a New England girl, Miss Hannah Niles.  She was already engaged to a neighbor’s son, but the Southerner cared naught for a rival.  He wooed earnestly, passionately.  He soon swept away her protests, won her heart and the two ran away and were married.  But tragic days were ahead.  On her return her incensed father locked her in her room and by threats and force compelled her to write a note to her young husband renouncing him.  He would accept no such message, but sent a note imploring a meeting in a nearby schoolhouse at nightfall.  The letter fell into the father’s hands.  He compelled her to write a curt reply bidding him leave her “forever.”  Then the father locked the daughter safely in the attic, and with a mob led by the rejected suitor, surrounded the schoolhouse and burnt it to the ground.  The husband, thinking he had been heartlessly forsaken, made a brave fight against the odds, but seeing no hope of success, leaped from the burning building, amid the shots fired at him, escaped down a rocky embankment at the back of the schoolhouse, and under cover of the woods, fled.  They told his wife that he was dead.