"The explanation of the intense interest with which Bowers Furbee supported the cause of the Confederacy may be found in qualities inherited from the aristocratic atmosphere which must have pervaded the mansion of Murderkill inlet, where the customs of the great plantations of the Old South, undoubtedly prevailed. Waitman Furbee must have brought with him to the wilderness much of that spirit and certainly his aristocratic wife, Margaret Craig, fostered it. It is a curious fact, however, that the descendants of the younger brother, Caleb Furbee, had no such leanings and are all to this day, ardent Republicans. Certain it is that the family had been, for more than a century, landed proprietors and owners of many slaves. Waitman Furbee and his family set up a home in Tyler County with many of the elements of the home in Delaware; and with his son, Bowers, maintained the traditions. His news of the outside world was brought to him through the Baltimore Sun, to which he was a lifelong subscriber. An ardent adherent of the principles of Jefferson and Andrew Jackson, he naturally espoused the cause of the South when the Union began to break up. Almost alone of all the interior of the county, his home was regarded as a center of rebellion. The many sons and daughters of the household never sought to give any other impression.
"The most outspoken and reckless of them all was the eldest son, George, who had been married for over a decade and had his home across the creek, but on an adjoining farm. Every bit of news favorable to the South fired his soul and loosed his tongue. Finally, he could stand it no longer and, against the prayers of his mother, he took leave of his wife and six little sons, as well as the rest of the family, and joined a number of recruits who were passing secretly through the country.
"The home of the Furbees became one of the stations of an underground railroad--running from the North to the Southland. The house was watched repeatedly, by the Union forces and not without reason, for it often sheltered those who did not have the Union's interest at heart. One night Presley set out with a number of Confederate soldiers, who had been staying at his father's house to guide them on the last important turn of the road, near the mouth of Flint Run, and he was saying goodbye to the soldiers when, suddenly, men appeared from behind every tree and stone and swarmed down upon them. The band was taken first West Union and, later, to the Federal prison, Camp Chase, located near Columbus, Ohio. Presley was set at liberty several months later but not until after he had taken the oath of allegiance.
" . . . As has been mentioned before, the fortune that Bowers Furbee had inherited from his father had slowly dwindled until at the close of the war it was largely represented by the extensive holdings of lands which had at that time little value. The family for several years maintained a wayside inn, where the travelers from far and near stopped for brief sojourn. This brought to the old gentleman much pleasure and some profit, for it kept him in touch with the great outside world.
"Although he was never registered in any school of higher learning, he was a man of broad culture and was possessed of a fine mind. My mother has told me that he used to aid her in her school work and always told her that he had had good private schooling. He was a lifelong subscriber to the Baltimore Sun and he read each issue in its entirety. In another environment, he would have made good use of his talents.
"It seems to have been his policy to give a substantial farm to each one of his sons when they married or reached a certain age. In this, he was imitating the example of his grandfather, Bowers Furbee, I--of Kent County, Delaware. In his will, he disposed of his property thus, but left to his daughters only small sums, except that he specified each of them should have an interest in the land as long as she remained single. This latter provision resulted in litigation and family dissension and discord at a much later date.
"The repeated changes in property caused frequent changes in the home. After the disastrous experiences of the forties, when he sold his home property to Philip Seckman, he seemed to have lived for a short time on the neighboring farm which he owned and which he was to give to his son, George. The family then moved across the creek to the more pretentious homestead known as the Garlow farm which Bowers Furbee had bought from Wells and Ellis Underwood. There he was to spend the longest time that he ever spent in one home in his long and eventful life, for it was to be the family home until the Spring of 1867.
" . . . Bowers Furbee [was] a man old in years and broken in spirit. For eighty years, nature and his own great weakness had battered against that sturdy constitution, and--at last--it was beginning to weaken. From boyhood when he grew up in the rough, frontier town of Morgantown, drink had been his greatest enemy. It was the principal cause of the loss of his fortune and later it, helped to undermine his robust health. Seldom, however, did one ever see him stagger or fall beneath its influence. One day, however, in the sixties, he started from home riding horseback down towards the farm of his son, Waitman. Andrew Seckman's family saw him pass, and--a short time afterwards--they saw his riderless horse go back up the road. They started to investigate and found him badly hurt where he had fallen over the bank from his horse. He was carried back home considerably the worse for his adventure but--fortunately--with no bones broken. The next morning he said to his patient and long suffering wife, 'Nancy, when liquor gets the better of a man like that, it is time for him to let it alone. I shall never drink another drop.' As one might expect from a man of his strong will, he kept his word.
"For eighty-five years, his mind and faculties were almost perfect, but--in the end--nature had to weaken in some place. He began to slowly lose his sight. Cataracts were forming on both his eyes and--in those days--operations for such things were practically unknown in Tyler County. So, he resigned himself to what he regarded as inevitable fate. My mother tells me that she remembers well seeing him setting in the bright light trying to catch--through the opaque screen--that was slowly clouding his vision--enough rays of light to read his beloved 'Baltimore Sun'--his constant companion of fourscore years. However finally the last fading ray failed him and he was left in total darkness. She still cherishes his old armchair, and one day she said to me: 'In that chair, my father spent the last four years of his life in darkness.' Old as he was and blind, he still insisted on going about his daily life independent of the aid of others. For example, he always shaved himself--up to his last days. However, in order to observe all the formalities of former days, he always had the mirror in front of him--even though he could not see the light of day."
" . . . Bowers Furbee's later years were somewhat clouded by financial reverses and sorrows incident to the War Between the States. He had never taken part in any of the military activities of his country. As a young man of thirty, he had been drafted in the War of 1812, but he reported at Norfolk and hired a substitute. The Mexican War and the Civil War found him too old for service. He continued in the management of his extensive properties until an advanced age, and with his neighbors, John Wells, Benjamin Bond, the Ripleys, and others--was one of the leading men of the community. He was an ardent Democrat throughout his long life and this fact cut him off from any political ambitions in a community where the political complexion was decidedly adverse.