dam, Conn., February
3, 1744. He lived in Halifax with his parents from his sixth to his
eleventh year. He became a member of the legislature of Connecticut in
1799. Subsequently he followed the early calling of his father and
became a Congregational minister, and was known throughout New England
as a statesman, an orator, and a wit. Twice married, this Aaron (5th)
was the father of William, one of fifteen children. Said William was
grandfather to President Cleveland.

Aaron was a poet. He never claimed to be such, and the few verses that
he allowed to find their way into print were published anonymously. Many
of them have been lost. The authorship of others was never given to the
public. A few, however, of his poetic word-creations passed into the
possession of his grandson, the Rev. Arthur Cleveland Coxe, of Hartford.
Illustrating Mr. Cleveland's appreciation of personal merit and personal
exertion over that of ancestry, we insert the following satirical
composition from his pen:

THE FAMILY BLOOD: A BURLESQUE.

"_Genus et proavos et quod non fecimus ipsi
Vix ea nostra voco._"

Four kinds of blood flow in my veins,
And govern, each in turn, my brains.
From CLEVELAND, PORTER, SEWELL, WATERS,
I had my parentage in quarters;
My fathers' fathers' names I know,
And further back no doubt might go.
Compound on compound from the flood,
Makes up my old ancestral blood;
But what my sires of old time were,
I neither wish to know, nor care.
Some might be wise--and others fools;
Some might be tyrants--others tools;
Some might have wealth, and others lack;
Some fair perchance--some almost black;
No matter what in days of yore,
Since now they're known and seen no more.

The name of CLEVELAND I must wear,
Which any fondling too might bear:
PORTER, they say, from Scotland came,
A bonny Laird of ancient fame:
SEWELL--of English derivation,
Perhaps was outlaw from the nation;
And _Waters_--Irish as I ween,
_Straight--round-about_ from--_Aberdeen!_

Such is my heterogeneous blood,
A motley mixture, bad and good:
Each blood aspires to rule alone,
And each in turn ascends the throne,
Of its poor realm to wear the crown,
And reign till next one tears him down.
Each change must twist about my brains,
And move my tongue in different strains;
My mental powers are captive led,
As whim or wisdom rules the head;
My character no one can know,