_Dear Sir_: Your letter of inquiry lies before me, supplying more information than I shall be able to give you. Ours is a Boston family, where my father and grandfather both resided. We were six brothers and four sisters, all of whom lived to their maturity, but of whom only five now survive. The eldest of these was Rev. Jotham Horton, of whom you inquire, who died in Boston, in Feb., 1853. His son, Rev. Jotham Horton, died, a martyr to freedom, by the mob spirit in New Orleans, some years ago. Our father's name was Jotham, who was a ship-smith, and did the iron work of the historic frigate _Constitution_. Our family being large, my parents allowed me to go into the country (Worcester County), at the early age of seven. I was educated a paper-maker previous to entering upon a course of liberal education. Thus separated from home, I had less knowledge of our ancestry than might otherwise have been the case. Supposing that my surviving brother at Mobile has better information regarding our ancestry than I have, I take the liberty of forwarding your letter to him, requesting him to supply any intelligence he may have at hand. He having been long a resident there, and loyal to the Union, is an ex-Mayor of the city, appointed by Gen. Pope, and is at present, happily for him, Judge of Probate for the County. His address is "Hon. Gustavus Horton, Mobile, Alabama." From him you will probably hear soon. Wishing you much success in your laudable investigations, and quite willing to recognize any of our cousins in the Keystone State, I am yours, &c., F. HORTON. The Rev. Francis Horton, writer of the foregoing letter, was one of the excellent of the earth. He was a scholar and quite a poet, and an able and much loved minister of the Word. He died in 1873. It is highly probable that he was a descendant of Joshua I. In connexion with this, we give the following thrilling article, which was published in the _Boston Watchman and Reflector_, soon after the barbarous murder of the Rev. Jotham Horton: LAST HOURS OF A NEW ORLEANS MARTYR. AN AFFECTING SKETCH. "Good-by, Emma," he said, "I shall not be gone long. It can't take more than ten minutes to open the Convention, and then I shall come right away. Look for me at three o'clock, at farthest," and the young pastor kissed his wife and hurried away to the city.