Pleasant Hill History Center

Nathan Hill

Nathan Hill was born in Maryland, March 15,1788.  He was one of the early settlers of Newton Township.  He married Frances Williams who was the daughter of Michael Williams.  Together they raised ten children.  He was one of the founders of the Hopewell Christian Church, which later became the UCC church.  He died January 15, 1862.

More about Nathan from the Cemetery Walk.

I was born in Maryland, near Ellicott’s Mill, on March 15, 1788.   I was the son of Thomas and Sarah (Howard) Hill. My father was in the Revolutionary War.  He was a private in Captain Thomas Bealls Regiment out of Maryland.  Both of my parents died in 1821 and are buried near me. 

I traveled with my family(, including my father Thomas Hill,) and the Michael Williams family to an area south of Dayton, Ohio.  We came to what is now Newton Township about 1805, following the Old Indian Trail.  My father purchased 320 acres here. 

The next spring my brother and I were returning to the South to retrieve more of our belongings.  While attempting to ford the river at Dayton, the wagon was upset and my brother, Henry, was thrown into the water and drowned.  He was only 17.  It was the saddest mission of my life returning to our new home with his body.  His was the first funeral in our little colony.

On June 29, 1809, I united in marriage with Frances Williams.  She was the daughter of Michael Williams who, along with my father, took part in the organization of Miami County.  We built a hewed log house on my father’s land southeast of my father’s house.  There we raised a family of 10 children, as well as some orphan children we took in.

I was a Whig in politics.  The voting was done in my house for this area.  Religion was important to me, and in 1816 I organized the Hopewell Church in the upstairs of my house.  We were a small but determined congregation.  In 1819 a little log church was erected to the south of this cemetery on my farm.  The congregation grew so that some Sundays the windows were removed and latecomers were lucky to get their heads inside with their feet sticking out. 

A larger frame church was built in 1849 and served our congregation for almost 20 years, until it was demolished in a windstorm.    A new brick church was built at that time in Pleasant Hill.  I tried to do my part in maintaining the grounds, as well as singing, praying, and ministering to the needy. 

Frances and I enjoyed having large crowds over for dinner.  Many times there were five tables of diners after the monthly church services, with everyone eating their fill of fresh biscuits, maple molasses and fried ham. 

Frances was an excellent companion for me.  She did not attend church as much as I, but tended to the family affairs, making it possible for me to go.  She never opened the oven to take out her bread without thanking the Lord for his bounties.

One winter, the roads were continually impassable and groceries were scarce, even in Dayton.  I hitched my horse to a sled and set off for Cincinnati to get a barrel of salt.  I was away for nearly two weeks and while I was gone an Indian named Amokee came to the house.  He had his gun reversed on his shoulder to show he meant no harm to my family.  He was hungry.  Frances told him she had no meat and they had not butchered due to the lack of salt.  She baked him a corn pone and he went on his way.  He returned that evening having killed a deer because he was sad that her little papooses did not have any meat.  He remained with us until spring.

I worked hard on my farm where I had a large garden, orchard and hives for my bees.  The fruit produced in my orchard was always free to the public.  In the early spring I would invite the young folks out to my sugar grove where the trees would be tapped and sugar and molasses were made by the barrelful.

A log school house that was built near my house.  It was a better than average schoolhouse for those days, with hewed logs, slab benches and glass windows.  It was heated with a stove.

In my golden years, I yearned for a grandson to carry on my name.  My daughter Sarah and her husband Jefferson Davis Iddings had a little boy they had named John Calvin.  When he was 2 years old, I asked them if they would change his name to Nathan.  They considered whether it would be bad luck to change the child's name, but finally consented to do so.

My death came on January 15, 1862, at 73 years and 10 months of age.  I strived always to be a noble, charitable, upright and an honest example to others.

Frances died eight years later on November 10, 1870.  She is buried beside me.  She was 80 years old.