52 Ancestors 2026: A Hard Choice – Should I Stay or Should I Go?

 

For my ancestors, crossing the Atlantic Ocean was not the end of their migrations. It did not take long before they left the East Coast for the trans-Appalachian frontier, enticed by promises of abundant land but often unaware of the dangers they faced as they encroached upon lands inhabited for thousands of years by Indigenous peoples. Tensions rose even higher during the American Revolution, when the British armed Native nations and encouraged attacks on frontier settlements.

The Conewago Colony of Pennsylvania, where my paternal Dutch/Huguenot ancestors lived, faced a difficult choice. Their families were growing, but farmland was not. Should they remain in a community increasingly surrounded by German and English settlers, dividing their farms into ever-smaller parcels until they became unsustainable, or should they move west? Some relocated to the Shepherdstown area of Berkeley County, Virginia (now in Jefferson County, West Virginia), but that only delayed the inevitable. Soon they heard of the abundant land in Kentucky and of the route south along the Great Wagon Road through the Shenandoah Valley and then west on the Wilderness Road. They had already migrated from New Jersey to Pennsylvania. Would this simply be the next step in their journey?

Because the decision was so consequential, one of the colony's patriarchs—my 5th-great-grandfather, fifty-six-year-old Samuel Duree (or Durie)—volunteered to join a scouting expedition to Fort Boonesborough and the surrounding Kentucky country. The party departed Shepherdstown on March 1, 1779, and arrived safely on April 7.

One interesting coincidence is that, only days before Samuel's party reached the fort, another group led by Joseph Starns, which included my maternal 6th-great-grandfather Frederick Starn, was ambushed by Shawnee warriors while returning to Virginia. Only Joseph's son, Jacob Starns, escaped. But that's another story for another day.

Samuel selected land near White Oak Spring Station in Mercer County, Kentucky, then returned to the Conewago Colony with encouraging news: there was good land, and plenty of it. One migration party, led by Hendrick Banta, settled near the Falls of the Ohio (now Louisville region). Samuel's group arrived in March 1780 and established themselves near White Oak Station, close to Fort Boonesborough. Among them was my 4th-great-grandfather, Peter Cossart, who settled near Hart's (or White Oak) Spring, about a mile from the fort.

The promise of new land in Kentucky, however, came at a terrible cost for the Durie family. During an attack near Samuel's son Petrus's newly built cabin in Mason County, Petrus, his sister Angenitie, and two brothers-in-law were killed, while Petrus's wife escaped with their children. Later, another son, Hendrick, was killed during an attack on White Oak Station. Samuel's son-in-law, Peter Cossart, my ancestor and husband of Marie Durie, was killed while gathering blackberries in the summer of 1781.

Life on the Kentucky frontier was harsh. Although the end of the Revolution eventually brought peace with Native nations, it also brought increasing numbers of settlers, competing land claims, and the expansion of slavery into Kentucky. The once close-knit Dutch/Huguenot community gradually began to disperse. Many families remained in Kentucky, but others—including members of the Banta family—helped found the Shaker community at Pleasant Hill. Still others, including some Banta and Cossairt families, moved north around 1800 to Turtlecreek Township in Warren County, Ohio.

For the Conewago Colony in general—and for Samuel Durie's family in particular—the decision to stay or go was anything but easy. Yet those choices became part of the larger westward movement that shaped both American history and my own family's story. Earlier migrations from New Amsterdam to New Jersey and Pennsylvania had been relatively peaceful. The move to Kentucky, during the turmoil of the American Revolution, proved to be far more costly.

Photo: 

Daniel Boone Escorting Settlers Through the Cumberland Gap by George Caleb Bingham, Mildred Lane Kemper Art Museum

52 Ancestors 2026: A Question the Records Can’t Answer – If the Records Could Talk

 

Although so much information is now available at our fingertips, we still get only limited glimpses into the lives of our ancestors. The occasional memoir or contemporary account of a community can be invaluable, but we are often left guessing about the details of their lives. My maternal grandfather’s wandering ways and difficult household, the struggles faced by a widowed ancestor whose family supported the Confederacy during the Civil War, and the establishment of the Cossairt line in Kentucky and later Ohio all come to mind. Sometimes, though, we encounter a record that raises more questions than it answers.

One such record came from Fold3 and, as often happens, I found it while searching for something else. I was researching the military service of David Cossairt/Cassatt when I came across records for twelve Cossairts, including one for William Cossairt of the 26th Missouri Infantry Regiment. When Company G mustered out in January 1865 after participating in Sherman’s March to the Sea, the record noted that William had died on January 30, 1862, from an “accidental shot” in Medora, Missouri. Medora (now St. Aubert, in Osage County) was the location of a recruitment center for the 26th Missouri.

The remaining details are sparse: William enrolled on November 1, 1861, in California, Missouri, mustered in on January 9, 1862, and died only weeks later. No age was listed.

What happened? Was he accidentally shot during target practice? Did poor firearm safety in camp play a role? Was there an altercation with another soldier? The records remain silent.

And where had he come from? “Cossairt” is a variation of “Cossart,” so he was clearly part of the larger family line. Although his Civil War service record appeared in FamilySearch, it was not attached to any individual. I began tracing him through the Kentucky Cossairts but quickly hit roadblocks. His story may seem like a small curiosity, but it could hold clues to the larger family migration story. After the war, David Cassatt settled in Carroll County, Missouri, but it now appears he was not the first Missouri Cossairt. William and another soldier, Jacob Cossairt, also served in the Union Army. Was Jacob William’s brother? Would Jacob’s pension file reveal more?

Eventually, the puzzle pieces started to fit together. Through Jacob, I was able to identify William, and I attached his Civil War record in FamilySearch. William Fletcher Cossairt was twenty-two years old when he enlisted and was the younger brother of Captain Jacob Cossairt, who served in the 8th Missouri Infantry and survived the war. Their father, Francis Marion Cossairt, served in the 4th Iowa Infantry. Another brother, Henry, also joined the 4th Iowa Infantry and died of disease in 1863, while younger brother George Washington enlisted in the 9th Iowa Cavalry.

A father and four sons accounted for five of the twelve known Cossairts who served the Union during the Civil War, with three of them dying during the conflict, although apparently not from battle wounds.

The records provide names, dates, and units, but the deeper story remains hidden. What motivated this family to move west into Missouri? What sacrifices did they make, both before and during the war? Their experiences surely reflected the turmoil of a nation struggling to preserve the Union and end slavery. David and his father, William Peter, arrived later, settling farther up the Missouri River in Carroll County. But Francis Marion Cossairt’s family appears to have been among the earliest Cossairt settlers in Missouri.

These migrations—and the decisions behind them—remain largely mysterious. If only the records could tell us more.

52 Ancestors 2025: The Name’s the Same — Not-So-Famous Davids Through the Ages

 

In researching my paternal line, one name appears again and again: David. Maybe it’s confirmation bias, but “David” seems to be the most common name encountered in my direct line; across all the variations of the Cossart/Cossairt/Cossatt/Cassatt name, there always seemed to be a David—at least until the late 19th century. Why David? The Cossarts were Huguenots, and as Reformed Protestants they often used biblical names, though not to the extreme of their Puritan cousins. Maybe this Huguenot family identified with the underdog who became king. My immigrant ancestor, Jacques Cossart, fathered three sons in the New World: Jacques (Jacob), David, and Anthony.

The first American-born David arrived in 1671 in New York City (formerly New Amsterdam). He married Styntje Joris Van Horne, worked as a stone mason in lower Manhattan, and began acquiring land in Somerset County, New Jersey. After being wounded in the 1712 slave uprising in New York, he moved his family to New Jersey. My line descends from his son Francis, born in 1717, but David also had an older son named David (born 1704). While Francis eventually joined the wave of westward migration, David moved north into the Mohawk Valley frontier. It is said that his three sons—David (of course), Jacob, and Francis—served the Patriot cause in the American Revolution.

Francis and his wife, Margaret Van Nest, later migrated with other Dutch and Huguenot families to the Conewago Colony in Pennsylvania, where he became a prominent figure and a committed Patriot. Like many frontier families, they were farmers, and their migrations mirrored their pursuit of new farmland. Francis’s son Pieter, born in 1746, continued the family pattern of moving into new territory. He and his wife, Maria Durie, eventually settled in newly opened Kentucky, where Pieter died during the frontier violence of the Revolutionary era. Meanwhile, David (born 1743) remained in the East, where his descendants became part of prominent Pittsburgh and later Philadelphia society.

We have already met Hendrick/Henry Cossairt and his twin brother David, born in 1778, who first put down roots in Kentucky and later moved into the Midwest—Henry to Ohio, David to Indiana. Henry’s son William Peter continued the line, but Henry, unsurprisingly, also had a son named David (born 1837). Records for this David—who altered the spelling of his last name to Cossatt—are scarce (future research opportunity?), but it appears he moved to Illinois before dying in Indiana.

From William Peter we move to his son David Cassatt, the Civil War veteran featured in several earlier posts. This David seems to have broken the longstanding naming pattern—he named his sons Orville, Virgil, and Bascom. (There was also a son George, who died in infancy.)

And two generations later, there’s me.

So much passes down through the generations: genes, traits, customs, and stories. This post is more about names—how they endure through family tradition or serve as tributes to ancestors who might otherwise be forgotten. As genealogists, we sift through records to uncover the pieces of our “who we are” and “where we come from” stories. Sometimes a simple name is the clue that connects them all.

52 Ancestors 2025: Multiple — A Tale of Two Journeys

 

The prompt “multiple” can have many meanings, but this week I decided to explore one set of twins in my family. On my paternal side, my 4th-great-grandmother Marie Durie (or Duryea) Cossart gave birth to twins, Hendrick (Henry) and David, on March 25, 1778. They were born into the Dutch/Huguenot Conewago Colony of Adams County, Pennsylvania.

Their early life was tumultuous. They were only about a year old when their family—and other members of the colony—migrated to Berkeley County, Virginia (now West Virginia) before making the long journey to Kentucky via the Wilderness Road. The early settlers endured great hardship, as many—including the twins’ father, Pieter Cossart, and several uncles—were killed by Native Americans during frontier conflicts associated with the Revolutionary War. With Pieter’s death in 1781, the twins and their siblings were raised by their mother and likely by members of her extended Durie family, who had also migrated to Kentucky. Unfortunately, records from those early Kentucky pioneers are sparse, but the bonds among the Conewago colonists remained strong.

So how did the twins fare as adults? Did they stay in Kentucky or move on again? Both eventually settled in neighboring states—Ohio and Indiana—though by different routes. Hendrick, who later went by Henry, married Mary Nailor in Indiana and later moved to Warren County, Ohio, where he became a successful farmer. According to family lore, his mother spent her final days with him and is said to be buried in Dodds Cemetery in Warren County. Notably, many other Conewago descendants also settled there.

David’s path was more winding. Unlike Henry, he remained in Kentucky longer and married within the colony—his second cousin, Mary (Polly) Banta. The Bantas were among the leading families of the Kentucky Low Dutch Colony, and Polly’s uncles were founders of the Pleasant Hill Shaker Village. Henry and Mary had six children who survived to adulthood, while David and Polly had two: Jacob Duryea Cassatt and Mary Banta Cassatt. Interestingly, both children carried middle names from their grandmothers, and like their cousins, they later adopted the “Cassatt” spelling of the family name.

After Mary Banta Cassatt’s birth in 1818, David and his family left Kentucky for Indiana, eventually settling in Wabash County around 1834, where they were among the first settlers. He worked in the canal-building trade, as did his future son-in-law, John Matlock. By 1850, David was living with the Matlocks following the deaths of Polly and his second wife, Sarah Johnson. Like his twin brother, David had a grandson who served in the Union Army during the Civil War. Sadly, Thomas Jefferson Matlock died of typhoid while in service. David himself passed away in 1854 at the age of 76, surviving his twin brother by just one year.

David’s surviving son, Jacob Duryea Cassatt, became a prominent citizen of Wabash County. He served in the Indiana State Legislature and held other public offices but endured several personal losses. His first wife, Louisa Jane Roberts, died in 1846 at the age of 31, leaving him with three young children, one of whom died the following year. His second wife, Emma Jane Townsend, died in 1850 at just 19, apparently from complications of childbirth. Their surviving daughter, Mary, was living in Iowa in 1860 with Thomas and Mary Townsend—likely her grandparents. Jacob spent his later years in Wabash County with his third wife, Elizabeth Barker Jones, a widow who brought one child into the marriage. Together, they had three more children, including their youngest, Mary Banta Cassatt.

The twins’ lives reflected the broader American story—surviving the arduous migration along the Wilderness Road, enduring the dangers of frontier life during the Revolution, and helping settle the growing Midwest after independence. Their paths shared much in common: farming, migration, and long life. Yet there were differences. Henry left many descendants carrying the Cossairt or Cassatt name (including me), while David’s line, having fewer children and more daughters, did not preserve the surname. Still, his legacy and genes endure through the many generations that followed.

As an aside, another “multiple” could refer to the many times the name David was used in the Cossart/Cossairt/Cassatt lineage, but that’s tale for another day.

Photo

By FloNight (Sydney Poore) and Russell Poore - self-made by Russell and Sydney Poore, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2806881

52 Ancestors 2025: Military

 

I’ve already touched on some of my family’s military experience this year. There was the ordeal Benjamin McWilliams underwent as a prisoner of war during the Civil War, and the unusual prisoner/adoption story of Christian Fast during the American Revolution. We also explored the militia service of the Cossarts, also during the Revolutionary War.

This time, I want to focus on two more soldiers who rose to defend the Union during the Civil War: David Cossairt (Cassatt), my great-grandfather, and Anthony Gilmartin, my 2nd great-grandfather. Unlike Pvt. McWilliams, they did not leave behind personal memoirs of their time in service; however, through service records, unit histories, and pension files, we can get a feel for what their experiences were like. This is where libraries, archives, and online resources came in for me.

Both men served in the Western Theater, in battles that may not have reached the fame of Gettysburg but were crucial to the Union victory.

My first experience using ChatGPT last year involved piecing their stories together. I had copies of their service and pension records from the National Archives, collected back in the last century. By scanning these handwritten documents, I was able to generate digital transcripts, filling in words that had been misread or were previously unclear. I then entered the service details, including dates and locations, and let AI assemble a narrative. Perhaps influenced by the dramatic accounts of wartime disability, the resulting stories were a bit flowery, yet they gave new life to these old records. I also used ChatGPT to identify and verify online references to supplement the story.

David Cossairt

We’ve already met David, but here is his military story:

On May 9, 1864, at the age of 20, David volunteered for the 146th Ohio National Guard Regiment, Company G. This unit, comprised primarily of men from his community, was mustered into service during a critical phase of the war. The 146th was part of the Hundred Days Men—a strategy employed by the Union to bolster forces for a crucial summer campaign. David and his comrades were assigned to guard duty and logistical support in Fayetteville, West Virginia, and Washington, D.C. Though not on the front lines, their role was essential in maintaining the Union’s strategic foothold and ensuring that frontline soldiers had the support they needed.

After serving with the 146th, David’s unwavering commitment to the Union cause led him to re-enlist with the 183rd Ohio Infantry Regiment on September 26, 1864. This newly formed regiment was quickly thrust into the heart of the conflict, joining the Army of the Cumberland under Major General George H. Thomas. The 183rd played a significant role in the Franklin-Nashville Campaign—a series of battles that proved decisive in the Western Theater.

One of the most notable engagements David participated in was the Battle of Franklin on November 30, 1864. This brutal confrontation saw Union forces repelling repeated assaults by Confederate troops under General John Bell Hood. The 183rd held their ground with remarkable tenacity, contributing to the devastating losses suffered by the Confederate Army.

Following the victory at Franklin, David and the 183rd marched to Nashville, where they once again faced Hood’s Army in the Battle of Nashville (December 15–16, 1864). The Union’s decisive counteroffensive shattered the Confederate Army of Tennessee. The 183rd was crucial to this triumph, further cementing their place in Union military history.

As the war drew to a close, David fell ill. On April 10, 1865, he was admitted to the U.S.A. General Hospital in Troy, New York. The final months of his service were spent in recovery, far from the battlefields. He was discharged on May 18, 1865, and his military career officially ended on May 27, 1865.

Born on January 23, 1844, in Warren County, Ohio, David’s story is a poignant reminder of the sacrifices made by those who fought to preserve the Union and end the scourge of slavery in America.

Anthony Gilmartin

Anthony Gilmartin also served in the Western Theater, although he spent a considerable portion of his service on the disability list. Here is a summary of his story:

Anthony Gilmartin was born on January 10, 1840, in Cook County, Illinois, and died on January 7, 1918, in Hannon, Barton County, Missouri. He spent much of his early life in Illinois and was living in Pleasant Plains, Sangamon County when he enlisted in the Union Army.

Gilmartin enlisted at age 21 in Company A, 32nd Illinois Infantry Regiment—a volunteer unit raised in central Illinois. He was mustered into service on August 29, 1861, though one affidavit later stated he held the rank of corporal at some point. His early service was marked by hardship. While stationed at Camp Butler in November 1861, he was stricken with a severe case of rheumatism, which became so serious he was sent home.

Despite this, Gilmartin returned to duty in late December 1861 and participated in major campaigns across the Western Theater. He served at Cairo, Illinois, and then moved with Union forces to Fort Henry and Pittsburg Landing (Shiloh), participating in some of the roughest fighting of the war.

In June and July 1862, while stationed at Grand Junction, Tennessee, his health again declined—this time due to a severe eye condition later diagnosed as amaurosis, a disease causing partial or complete blindness.

On January 2, 1864, Gilmartin reenlisted as a Veteran Volunteer at Natchez, Mississippi, and was mustered in at Vicksburg on February 2, 1864. But cold, wet conditions during that winter severely worsened his eye problems. He was eventually discharged for disability on September 12, 1864, at Camp Butler. Though official documents first noted that he was discharged for reenlistment, later records clarified that his final discharge was due to near-total blindness resulting from disease and exposure during service.

In reading these records, I was struck by the ill health suffered by my Western ancestors. One possible explanation is that many of those living “out west” were from rural farms, not crowded city centers, and may not have developed resistance to common infectious diseases of the time. Once placed in crowded military camps, where sanitation was poor and exposure was constant, their immune systems were quickly overwhelmed. Add to that the harsh weather, poor nutrition, and stress of battle, and it’s easy to understand how even the strong fell ill.

52 Ancestors 2025: Family Secret? Not Quite—But an Interesting Discovery

If there are any deep family secrets, no one has told me—but while researching various family lines, I’ve found that marriage dates and birthdays can be quite intriguing. Society in earlier times may have had a reputation for being prudish, but young people were just as drawn to each other as they are today.

I previously shared the stories of my great-great-grandparents, William Peter Cossairt (also spelled Cozart) and Nancy Tharp (read her story here), who lived in 1840s Warren County, Ohio. The marriage record pictured above is from 1843, and it appears that Nancy was 16 or 17 years old, as her father had to give his in-person consent for the marriage. Just two months later, Nancy gave birth to my great-grandfather, David (his story is here). Clearly, she was already pregnant at the time of their wedding.

Curious about how this situation would have been described in the 1840s, I consulted ChatGPT to see if the term “shotgun wedding” was in use back then. Here’s what it had to say:

In 1840s America, a shotgun wedding likely wouldn’t have been called that yet, as the phrase didn’t become widely used until the late 19th or early 20th century. However, the concept certainly existed. People might have referred to it as a forced marriage, hasty marriage, marriage of necessity, or even a marriage under duress. In more colloquial or regional terms, it might have been described as being married in a hurry or making an honest woman of her.

In some communities, especially in rural or religious settings, such a situation might have been framed as doing the right thing or a matter of honor. Local customs would have influenced the terminology, but the social expectation to legitimize a pregnancy or preserve family reputation was certainly present.

William was 26 years old at the time of their marriage—considerably older than Nancy. Were they young neighbors, caught up in the moment? Given the status of women and girls at the time, was there some duress or coercion involved?

We may never know the full story behind their marriage, but their family lines—and their legacy—lived on.

52 Ancestors 2025: Challenging - Mary Nailor

My challenging ancestor is my 3rd-great-grandmother, Mary Nailor Cossairt. In 1814, she married my paternal-line ancestor, Hendricks (Henry) Cossairt (or Cossart) in Franklin County, Indiana. They eventually settled in Warren County, Ohio, where Mary gave birth to about six children. She died on July 15, 1843, and one source lists her birth year as 1782.

What’s the significance? What’s the challenge? Until her marriage, the Huguenot Cossart family had remained within their blended French, Walloon, and Dutch colonies, starting with the founding of New Amsterdam. They kept together through migrations from New Amsterdam to New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Kentucky. Pioneer life in Kentucky during the American Revolution was difficult (another challenge), and parts of the family moved north to Ohio. There, they began marrying settlers whose families had emigrated from England, and it’s less clear where these English families originated.

Mary does not appear as herself in any of the early censuses, so where should I look? How could I make something of the scant data? I turned to ChatGPT, feeding it all the information I had—her name, marriage, and death—and let it generate probabilities, leads, and directions. I was able to input information about her first- and last-born children, along with checkboxes from the pre-1850 census records. ChatGPT also prompted me to check later census records (such as the 1880 census) for her children’s details, specifically for their mother’s birthplace.

I discovered another Nailor in the same county in Indiana where Mary was married, as well as another in Warren County, Ohio.

Thanks to ChatGPT, I was able to flesh out more details: Mary Nailor was born around 1792 in Maryland and migrated west before 1814, possibly through Kentucky. She married Henry Cossairt on December 12, 1814, in Franklin County, Indiana, and the young family settled in Warren County, Ohio, where Henry bought a substantial farm in 1821. Mary had six children and died in 1843, around the age of 51. One possible brother, John, about two years older than Mary, lived in Franklin County, Indiana.

The value of ChatGPT lies in its ability to analyze multiple bits of disparate data—such as the early census age/sex checkboxes—and generate plausible conclusions (or dismiss implausible ones) while pointing me in the right direction.

The Life of William Peter Cossairt

 

My great-great-grandfather, William, the son of Henry (Hendrick) Cossairt and Mary (Nailor), was born on October 18, 1815, in Warren County, Ohio, where his father was a prosperous farmer. He was the eldest of six children and took on the responsibilities expected of a first-born son. Henry Cossairt had migrated from Kentucky, where he was part of the Low Dutch Colony, a community that included other settlers from Kentucky's Bluegrass region.

The family farm in Turtle Creek Township was located near the property of John Tharp and his family. William became acquainted with young Nancy Tharp, who was about ten years his junior. They married on November 18, 1843, with John Tharp giving his consent since Nancy was not yet of legal age. Tragically, William's mother, Mary, had passed away earlier that year, on July 15, 1843.

Just two months after their wedding, their first child, David, was born on January 23, 1844. The young couple went on to have two more sons: John, born on February 2, 1848, and George, born on May 6, 1849. By 1850, they owned a farm in Sycamore Township, Hamilton County, Ohio. According to the 1850 census, William was listed as a farmer, and the value of his real estate was $2,500. The couple had four more children: Francis (born around 1852), Jacob (born around 1859), Ann M. (born around 1851), and Laura J. (born on April 12, 1857).

William’s father, Henry, passed away on March 31, 1851, and it is possible that William took over the family farm. His sister Nancy and her husband, Frederick Smear, were living on one corner of the estate. By the 1860 census, William and his family had returned to Turtle Creek Township in Warren County, Ohio, where their real estate was valued at $7,000. It appears that Frederick Smear passed away between 1844 and 1850, as Nancy had no more children after 1844 and was listed in the 1850 census as living with her parents and her four children.

William’s wife, Nancy, passed away on November 14, 1864. A little over two years later, in 1867, William remarried, this time to Mary Hight, daughter of Thomas and Polly Hight. The Hight family had been living in Polk County, Iowa. Likely before his second marriage, William moved to Carroll County, Missouri, where he established a farm. William and Mary had two sons: William Peter Jr., born on November 11, 1869, and Thomas Littleberry, born in 1872. Mary, about 30 years old at the time of their marriage, was considerably younger than William, who was in his early 50s. Mary had probably not been married before.

According to the 1870 census, William was farming in Grand River Township, Carroll County, Missouri. His real estate was valued at $3,000. The household was blended, with two children from William’s first marriage and one child from his second marriage living with them. Additionally, James H. (age 21) and Ednis (age 10) were listed in the household without separate last names. It is unclear what their relationship to each other or to the Cossairt or Hight families was.

William died on February 4, 1874, at the age of 64. He was a successful farmer in Ohio and one of the post-Civil War migrants to Missouri. Several of his children from Ohio, including his eldest son, David, also moved westward, settling in Missouri and Kansas. David, for instance, made his home in Barton County, Missouri.

The Life of Nancy Tharp

 

This is the story of my great-great-grandmother, Nancy Tharp, and her short but eventful life. It offers a glimpse into life on a farm during pioneer days in southwest Ohio, in a county that had been settled for only a few decades.

Nancy was likely born in Warren County, Ohio, in late 1825 or early 1826. Warren County was settled by various groups, including the Low Dutch community from Kentucky. She was the first child of John and Julia Ann (Hormel) Tharp, who migrated from Maryland and Pennsylvania, respectively. Nancy grew up on a farm in Turtle Creek Township, Warren County, and had eight younger sisters, along with one sibling who likely died at birth. While no birth record has been located, her parents were married on August 2, 1825, so Nancy was likely born between November 1825 and May 1826 if Julia Ann was pregnant at the time of the wedding, or between May and November 1826 if not.

As the eldest child, Nancy likely helped with child-rearing from a young age, learning the many chores expected of a young woman, such as cooking, cleaning, and farming. Seven of her sisters were born before Nancy married, so her responsibilities would have been significant.

Another early settler family in Warren County was the Cossairt family, who had moved to Ohio from Kentucky after the death of their patriarch, Peter (Pieter) Cossart. The name “Banta” also appears in the county’s census records; the Banta family was part of the Low Dutch (Conewago) Colony that migrated to Kentucky from Pennsylvania in 1781 and were relatives of the Cossairts. Nancy became close to William Peter Cossairt, the son of Henry (Hendrick) Cossairt. William, about 10 years her senior, likely lived on his family’s farm in Turtle Creek Township. The two fell in love and married on November 18, 1843. Because Nancy was underage (likely 16 or 17), her father, John, had to give his permission for the marriage.

The reason for their haste became clear two months later, on January 23, 1844, when their first child, a son named David, was born. Nancy and William went on to have six more children: John (born February 2, 1848), George (born May 6, 1849), Ann M. (born around 1851), Francis (born around 1852), Laura J. (born April 12, 1857), and Jacob (born around 1859). By 1850, the family was farming in Sycamore Township, Hamilton County, Ohio, but later returned to Turtle Creek Township in Warren County by the 1860 census. Their farm was likely close to the Tharp homestead, and William may have taken over the Henry Cossairt farm.

Nancy’s life was tragically short; she passed away on November 14, 1864, at around 38 years old. At the time of her death, her eldest son, David, was serving in the Union Army during the Civil War. In 1867, William remarried Mary Hight, and the couple eventually moved to Carroll County, Missouri.

Nancy’s life was marked by dedication to her family. From caring for her younger sisters as a child to raising seven children of her own, she played a vital role in sustaining her family’s legacy. Her father and husband managed to maintain their farms through the decades, ensuring stability for their loved ones despite the hardships of pioneer life.

Picture: Map of Turtle Creek Top., around 1860. The Tharp farm is near the top center, with the Cossairt farm east of the Tharp farm.