tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">[2] who settled at Newbury, Mass., previous to June 30, in 1643, only twenty-three years after the landing of the Pilgrims. His son, John Badger, a man of much respectability in his day, was by his first wife, the father of four children, only three of whom, John, Sarah and James, lived to arrive at years of responsibility, the first having died in infancy. His first wife, Elizabeth, died April 8th, 1669. By his second wife, Hannah Swett, to whom he was married February 23d, 1671, he had Stephen, Hannah, Nathaniel, Mary, Elizabeth, Ruth, Joseph, Daniel, Abigail and Lydia. Both of the parents died in 1691. John Badger, Jr., a merchant in Newbury, married Miss Rebecca Brown, October 5, 1691; their children were John, James, Elizabeth, Stephen, Joseph, Benjamin and Dorothy. Joseph was born in 1698.

Joseph Badger, son of John Badger, Jr., was a merchant, in Haverhill, Mass.,[3] and married Hannah, daughter of Col. Nathaniel Peaslee. Among his seven children was General Joseph Badger, whose usefulness and excellence of character are strongly expressed in the pages before me. He married Hannah Pearson, January 31st, 1740; their children were twelve in number, among whom was Major Peaslee Badger, the father of the subject of this memoir, and the Hon. Joseph Badger, Jr., the father of Hon. William Badger, late Governor of New Hampshire. Several of this name have been distinguished for ability, and have held important positions of public duty. Some have been active in the defence of their country, some in the cause of education, the administration of justice, and the affairs of political life; and like the distinguished men of New Hampshire generally, they mostly seem to have had strong natures, with characters marked by native vigor and original force.

South of the White Mountains some fifty miles, and near the Lake and River Winnipiseogee, is the old town of Gilmanton. As the mind of Mr. Badger, during his childhood in this place, was lastingly impressed by the society and instruction of his uncle, I have thought best to copy the presentation of his character as found in the published history of Gilmanton.

Rev. Joseph Badger had indeed a noble ancestry; and, in natural ability, in creative and executive intellect, in force of character and in general usefulness, he is probably unexcelled by the worthy examples that in past time may have shed honor upon the name. I have dwelt thus long on the parentage and ancestry of Mr. B., not because I regard the tenacity of the Jewish race on the subject of lineage, nor the general excess of oriental homage to departed fathers, but because we appreciate the law of cause and effect, as it is manifested in the course of hereditary descent, which forbids that any man's written history shall begin like the priesthood of Melchizedek, successionless and without descent.

In approaching another chapter, the early life of Mr. Badger, perhaps nothing is more strikingly appropriate to the reader than the exclamation which stands as the first line of an old manuscript from his own pen, with which he begins his personal narrative, viz.: "What a mystery is Life!" Ah! who can wrestle with this wonder so as to exhaust it of its marvellousness? Who can explain the innate genius, and impulse, with the endless play of outward circumstance, that so constantly drive these human myriads on to their various destiny? Scribes can record what outwardly transpires; and even the reason can do nothing more than to look through the cluster of outward development we call man's history, to its centre in the inward life, where, though it may see the harmonious relationship of the facts to the soul whence they have flown; where, though it may perceive the combination of mental and moral qualities that make up the man, it is at last obliged to own the impenetrability of the veil that hides the genius that has taken individual form for some end of its own; and through the whole drama of man it owns that life is enacted in the temple of mystery. Mr. Badger's written journal, among its opening paragraphs, has the following quotation:

CHAPTER II.

CHILDHOOD.

The town of Gilmanton, which is only forty-five miles from Portsmouth, sixteen from Concord, and eighty from Boston, is, to a great extent, of rocky and hilly surface, having within its limits a chain of eminences that vary in height from three hundred to one thousand feet, called the Suncook Range, which commences at the northern extremity, near the Lake, and extending in a south-easterly