That, and the content, leads me to believe that Harrison is the author. But who is Christopher Harrison? He was Indiana's first Lieutenant Governor (1816-1819). The diary, however, was written at Talbot Co. Maryland (at "Fair View"). Harrison was an artist in his own rite and the diary displays his skills in that area. Clearly the man was a poet, too. He looks, perhaps, something of a sea captain.
The diary is predominantly a weather record. Harrison regularly recorded the highs and lows and numerous meteorological phenomenon. He even recorded his height (5'9") and weight (161 pounds) on January 18. He recorded others on the plantation, too, including Skinner (5'2-1/2" and 109 pounds). Harrison turned 68 in 1842; Skinner was 21.
Here's the title page of the diary, almost a fraktur:
The poem on this cover piece is by Sir Walter Scott (Norna). These other examples, I think, were actually written by Harrison:
December clouds and Storms are past,
Our last year's cares are o'er at last
With smiling faces New Year appears
To cheer our hopes, dispel our fear.
Now ladies shall have lovers plenty,
Rich and brave and five and twenty,
Young men shall strive fine clothes to wear,
More than their parents can well spare,
The Sage, the Rich, the old, the poor,
Shall all this year expect much more.
And yet they'll find perhaps at last,
This year no better than the past.
But who neither hope nor fear
Find little change in any year.
CH Jany 1, 1843
At the end of January Harrison penned these lines:
Such never was such weather seen
In Winter, as this month has been,
So right the sun, so mild the air,
You'd almost think that Spring was here.
I love these lines in February:
A Valentine's a paper present
To our beloved; by it is meant,
That love inflames the sender's breast,
Before conceal'd, but now confess'd.
In March Harrison wrote:
Well this is Spring, all cold and wet,
Shiv'ring she comes along, and yet,
She has a smile upon her face,
A smile that charms the human race.
And later the same month:
Why winter, do you linger here,
and pinch with cold, poor motels so,
do you not know the time of year?
You should have gone ten days ago.
In April, Harrison mellows along with the weather but shows concern for the animals:
The Fields, at last, are growing green,
And Flocks and Herds are grazing seen,
But plain their Ribs and scant their height,
Of goats, poor souls, a piteous sight.
In May:
Now lovely Spring she laughs outright,
In gaudy drefs, red, blue and white,
She throws aside her cloak, yet sighs,
For oh, 'midst pleasures soon she dies.
By August:
The Harvest o'er, secur'd the grain,
In Barns and Ricks from wind and Rain,
What price for wheat is next the cry
Of ev'ry Farmer low and high.
In October:
The beauties of a harvest field
of Golden Wheat all parts praise
But Wheat itself I think must yield
To Indian Corn this Silver maize.
As the year winds down in November:
The labors of the year are over
Feed now your stock with roots and clover
With friends be merry, now's the Season
T' enjoy pastimes but yet in reason
Finally, December:
Cold Winter comes with Rain and Snows,
And cruel cold the North Wind blows,
Midst plenty, don't forget to aid
The suffering poor, the Sick, the laid.
Co Christ commanded as 'tis said.
Harrison died on August 29, 1862 and is buried at Fair View, in an unmarked grave I am told. He never married. Skinner lived until October 27, 1894. She married in 1847. Skinner, by the way, is the daughter of Harrison's sister, Elizabeth (Harrison) Skinner.
I bought the diary many years ago and it is one of my most prized possessions. I'm guessing Skinner felt the same way about it.
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