By George Drake

Nowadays, a purchase at many stores concludes with the question, “Would you like your receipt emailed or printed?” But in 18th- and 19th-century America, the customer would often handwrite their purchases in blank books which would then be signed by the vendor to certify the transaction. 

The Winterthur Library recently acquired an unexpectedly personal example of how receipts were recorded before every shop had a small printer on the counter. This Delaware manuscript receipt book is a pocket-sized, leather-bound volume used as a daybook from 1768 to 1853 by several generations of the Kendalls, a Quaker family from New Castle County, Delaware, and holds records for purchases and other financial matters. 

Jesse Kendall (1741–1769) was the first to use the book. Jesse was born in Wilmington, Delaware, the son of a cordwainer (a shoemaker specializing in working with new leather). According to Quaker wedding records held by the Winterthur Library, Jesse was also a cordwainer when he married Mary Marshall in 1763. However, the 23 receipts he recorded between 1768 and his death in 1769 suggest he may have changed vocations at some point, since most of the receipts are for the purchase of molasses, rum, imported goods from Jamaica, and copious barrels of flour. Jesse’s final entry listed a payment of his taxes for 1768. 

The end of Jesse’s life at age 27 is poignantly recorded in this same receipt book. His widow, Mary (1743–1802) used the volume briefly to record receipts related to the settlement of Jesse’s estate, funeral, and medical bills. Through Mary’s payment records of 23 shillings for a winding sheet for her husband’s body, 7 shillings for digging and “turfing” his grave, and medical expenses of more than £2 paid to Dr. Nicholas Way, we are given a glimpse into a difficult time for the Kendall family. Though the receipts lack any overt emotion, they invite us to reflect on the events behind the words. These records also situate the Kendall family in American history—less than two decades later, Dr. Way was a signatory on documents providing Delaware’s ratification of the U.S. Constitution. 

Jesse and Mary’s son, John Kendall (1766–1845), was the third family member to use the volume. His period of use was the longest (1789–1837) and the most diverse. Receipts include those for foodstuffs (e.g., oats, beef, and flour); goods (e.g., cow, watch, wagon, and staves); services (e.g., shoemaking, hauling, and carpentry); and financial matters (e.g., tax payments, interest payments, and estate payments). 

The final member of the Kendall family to use the receipt book was Jesse’s grandson, Gibbons Kendall (1801–1864). He used the volume from mid-1852 to late 1853, over 80 years after his grandfather’s first entry. Instead of recording personal transactions as his predecessors did, Gibbons used the volume to detail financial transactions in the estate of his sister, Rebecca G. Kendall, who died on July 13, 1852. 

Though it is impossible to know the day-to-day details of the Kendall family’s lives, this receipt book provides interesting examples of the macroworld of early American financial recordkeeping practices, and the microworld of one Delaware Quaker family. 

Research into the volume is ongoing as part of the cataloguing process that new library acquisitions go through before being added to the library’s online catalogue, Wintercat. 

By George Drake

The word “ledger” calls to mind neat columns of numbers and meticulous recordkeeping. But what happens when a ledger stops being used for its intended purpose? Winterthur Library recently acquired a William Appleton and Company ledger, which gives insights into the global reach of a 19th-century Boston-based merchant shipping company and the life and times of the man whose name was at the top of the company’s masthead. It’s interesting enough as a record, but this volume is also exciting because it illustrates what can happen when a ledger that’s no longer used by the company falls, decades later, into the hands of a child who needed a scrapbook and sketchpad.   

William Appleton (1786–1862) was a businessman and politician from Massachusetts, whose business acumen was clear early in life.  In 1801 his first foray into business was as a clerk in a store in Temple, N.H., kept by Mr. Artemas Wheeler. Appleton made such a favorable impression on his employer that at the age of 19 he was made a partner.  

Between 1807 and the 1820s, Appleton engaged in a variety of business ventures related to his mercantile interests, including the purchase of some of his earliest ships.  From 1826 to 1841, he owned a counting house in Boston, Mass. In 1841 he and his son James joined Samuel Hooper to form William Appleton and Company, a merchant shipping firm which engaged in sea trade to ports around the world. 

Detail of a page noting expenses on a ship bound for Bengal, India.

The Appleton ledger—a large, leather-bound volume detailing transactions between 1836 and 1843—records Appleton’s rise from a small business owner to a titan of Boston commerce. Many of its pages contain balance sheets for company transactions, either with individuals or other companies (for example, an 1838 transaction with the Liverpool Packet Co. in the amount of $54,143.16—the equivalent of almost $2 million in 2024).  Some entries record transactions related to shipping logistics, including a payment of $6,560 (over $200,000 in 2024) for insurance on the Eben Preble, a 439-ton Appleton-owned ship bound for China. 

Some entries contain balance sheets for domestic and international shipments, including several entries related to shipments made to New Orleans, La., in consignment with Hodge, Oxnard & Co. International destinations with similar entries include Calcutta, Havana, China, and Liverpool. 

The last ledger entry in this roughly 200-page volume was made in 1843, with the business records comprising roughly one-third of the pages.  Given that William Appleton and Company continued for several years after 1843, it’s unclear why it was abandoned with two-thirds of the book’s pages  unused.  Whatever happened, the ledger came into use years later by one or more people for an entirely different purpose.