This is an account of Bigelow’s life, his wife’s genealogy, and perhaps most interestingly, his courtship and marriage.
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from the site Revolutionary Oaks, The History of the Colonel Timothy Bigelow Chapter in Worcester, Massachusetts, of the National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution:
TIMOTHY BIGELOW ROMANCE
by Jeanette A. W. Ramsay, D.A.R.
March 9, 1909
Among the Scotch settlers in Worcester, there came over an Irish family by the name of Rankin. They had several daughters, the youngest of whom was Anna — beautiful Anna Rankin!
At that time there was a family here, very respectable for the times, by the name of Andrews. One of the boys was named Samuel, who was at the time an undergraduate in Harvard College.
Samuel came home to spend a vacation and while at home he saw Anna Rankin and taking a liking to “her neck,” which, like Kathleen Bawn’s, was “so soft and smooth without a freckle or speck,” he “fell in love,” as the novel-writers say. He forthwith threw Latin and Greek to the dogs, mad love to Anna and in due time married, and purchasing a farm on the west side of Quinsigamond Lake, he settled down and became an industrious and frugal yeoman.
In that occupation he prospered so well that in a few years he quitted his farm and moved to the village, and built him a house on the very spot where the stone jail was subsequently erected (on the corner of Lincoln square and northwest corner of Summer Street).
Afterward he built him a larger and better house on the ground now occupied by the block of brick houses, opposite the Courthouse. (Please note the locality. Lincoln in his History gives it so, page 281, also using the word “dwellings.”)
Father and mother both died, leaving an only daughter named Anna, after her mother Anna Rankin, with an estate that made her the principal heiress of Worcester in those times.
In the rear of the Andrews house, “Tim” Bigleow had a blacksmith’s shop where he blew the bellows, heated and hammered the iron, shod the horses and oxen, and mended the ploughs and chains for the farmers of the country about him.
Now Tim “was as bright as a button,” more than six feet high, straight and handsome, and walked upon the earth with a natural air and grace that was quite captivating.
Tim saw Anna and Anna saw Tim and they were well satisfied with each other.
But as he was then, nothing but Tim Bigelow, “the blacksmith,” the lady’s friends, whose ward she was would would not give their consent to a marriage. So, watching for an opportunity, the lovers mounted fleet horses and rode a hundred miles to Hampton, in New Hampshire, which lies on the coast between Newburyport and Portsmouth, and was at that time the “Gretna Green” for all young men and maidens for whom true love did not run a smooth course in Massachusetts.
They came back to Worcester as Mr. and Mrs. Timothy Bigelow.
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