USA > Massachusetts > Worcester County > Spencer > Historical sketches relating to Spencer, Mass., Volume IV > Part 5
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and shop are now memories only. But what eager hours of sport were then ! Thirty or forty men were easily called to- gether for the game. Captain Prouty never spared time for
aught of that order. My father never shared the games. I
think Mr. Wilson did not. There was hardly another excep-
tion in the village. A boot factory came to be also at the
Reuben Cunningham place. Much business like that at the Prouty shop was done for several years by Samuel H., a brother of Reuben. The workmen from that shop swelled the com- pany for the evening sports.
About this time the village was stirred by a cry for help in fighting fire at "Chestnut Hill." Charles Browning, then living in the south part of Rutland and known as the largest landholder of all the region, held generous timber lands at the hill above named, near the mills long known as the "Thomp- son Mills," because owned and operated by the late William L. Thompson, Essaying that day to burn a piece from which the wood and lumber had been taken, the fire passed beyond control with increasing peril to much property. Mr. Brown- ing raced his fine chestnut horse to Bumskit, called for help, filled his roomy wagon with men and boys, asked others to foi- low fast as possible and then the faithful, knowing steed pushed back up the Cunningham hill, galloping with his great load as
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if he knew his master's need. The pace was kept down the steep grade to the Dwight Walker place, there the horse turned into the mill road and ceased not his mighty stride till we were in the mill yard. Then while we hurried to the fight, Mr. B. pulled the harness from his horse, turned him loose in a box stall, poured a half-bushel of oats in the feed-box and left him to care for himself. As some one asked if it was not unwise thus to feed after a hard drive, the confident response came : "No, he knows too much to eat before he is cool." After a severe struggle the furious fire was brought under mastery. The fight was sharp. Furrows were turned in the damp soil and the eager flame-tongues were whipped back by boughs broken from the full-leaved trees. This is much to write of a brush fire. But no other fire forms any part of my boyhood memories.
The School in District No. 5.
Prior to 1840 the school for North Spencer boys and girls was ordered summer and winter in a small, red schoolhouse, "A ragged beggar sunning" by the wayside on the road from Bumskit to Jocktown, at foot of the Reuben Cunningham hill. This house of the olden days stood with a side to the road. Inside a spacious fireplace largely occupied the back of the one room and from the narrow level of the central floor seats for pupils sloped toward the high windows at the front. The door was at the south, the teacher's desk at the end opposite the entrance. In rear of the big chimney and fireplace was a recess into which three or four boys could climb for variety in play when the school session was broken by an intermission.
One day in the midst of our work there emerged from this hiding place an unkempt and blear-eyed man. He stopped and stared. The stare was returned. Teachers and scholars were startled and uncertain. The intruder was no more at ease. Presently we saw that "Tom Sargent," a well known man whom drink had long humbled and broken, stood thus in the midst. Soon, with no little show of confusion, he pushed for the door and without a word of explanation walked heavily away. Evidently the poor fellow had crept to this shelter when intoxicated, had there slept and drank and slept again till sober waking came in school hours and there was no way out but through the school-room. Unforbidden, and unre- buked, save by our silence he left us, but the memory of such a visitant remained.
Another more amusing, yet withal a startling incident of school in that house comes to mind. It was not exactly as the "Mary had a little lamb" story, albeit a lamb, rather a sheep,
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SKETCHES OF SPENCER HISTORY.
was a central figure. Aunt Sally Cunningham had reared a cosset lamb in her dooryard, which often made its way through the door to the kitchen. Its early mildness, however, had given place to a fierceness for butting all comers. Growing bolder and more venturesome, this animal became troublesome beyond the limits of its home dooryard. One day this butting sheep, walked off up the road to the schoolhouse and for some reason suddenly pushed its ever-ready head into sharp, reso- nant knocking on the inner door of the schoolroom. Before response to the loud knock could be made it was repeated stoutly. The door yielded and the cosset aforesaid, walked in and held the floor undisputed. Scholars and teacher scrambled to the tops of desks for shelter, each eager to avoid further acquaintance with the uninvited, unwelcome guest. Relief, however, soon appeared. The rover had been missed, and search instituted. A man traced the wandering sheep to the schoolhouse, readily noted the commotion in school, came to the door and presently led the intruder away. I think this wooly school-visitor was directly after changed to mutton and thus, not ignobly, ended the service of life.
In 1840 the school work of the district was transferred to the brick schoolhouse vet standing and in continuous service in this twentieth century. I do not clearly recall the story of the neighborhood stir over the new location. But this is true, the outcome gave the boys and girls a very diminutive play- ground in front of the new building. Indeed the site was made at the roadside by a bank wall with grading to level of the road and one corner of the house through the sixty and more years has needed the guard of a granite post, being so near the wheel track. The playground, a triangular bit, was also made by a bank wall some eight feet high with grading
level to the roadbed. Through the years the road itself has served as the real playground. The citizens kept their valu able lands unabridged and the action of the district has, I think, remained unmodified by the town.
The new schoolroom was better than the old. Desks and seats were still on a sloping floor, but on both sides of the house, with a teacher's desk at the north end. This desk was placed on four posts, leaving an open space between the one- step platform and the base of the desk. In that space, possibly two feet, I was once bidden to stand as penance for misdeel of some sort, deed forgotten, but not the penance. If any flexing of my knees appeared the teacher smartly struck my calves with an eighteen inch maple ruler. Desks for the scho- lars were so high that only full grown youths could do other than dangle their feet when sitting erect. Two inch chestnut
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plank were used for tops of the desks. Yet boys carved them so diligently as to cut through the plank. Boys and girls facing each other was the order of the room. There were seats for sixty, two occupying one desk. The lowest seats were without desks. The larger space was soon filled. More than sixty were in attendance one winter. The back seat on each side was continuous and that winter certain desks were forced to convene three. . As all ages from four to twenty-one were in school, classification was not easy and as every other week had twelve three-hour sessions and the others ten, the teacher, a noble man of delightful memory, had full opportu :- ity to earn his wages. The most severe punishment of that winter that is recalled, was the infliction on two big boys of the pleasure afforded by standing face to face in the floor, each holding to level of the hips one foot of his happy opposite. When the beaded drops began to fall from their temples, relief was ordered.
For the early years of my memory, male teachers were pro- vided for the winter terms in No. 5. The big boys often made things interesting. The last winter of such ordering of the school the first teacher retired at the end of the second week. A man of stature, like Abraham Lincoln. was hired to finish the work of the winter. He kept the school. but "bodily ex r- cise" of which St. Paul affirmed, only profiting but little was often in evidence. After that year the facile domination of woman was assured as readily in winter as in summer. Bet- ter work began to have place and the foundation of a good English education was assured unto many boys and girls.
What sports were in that cramped schoolyard at the road- side ! At the east a steep hill gave rare sport in winter. Chil- dren of today will think it strange that much of the coasting was on narrow strips of board. A barrel stave was an es-
pecial delight. The few sleds in ownership were largely turned over to the girls, as they could not so readily bear the discomfort of clothing saturated with snow water. But sel- dom did any boy take cold from sitting through the afternoon session in garments soaked. It may be opined also that patches on the seats of trousers were not uncommon. But a continuous roar of boisterous speech and laughter made hillside and play- ground the scene of vigorous, joyful life. Alas, most of those happy voices are heard no more. This world is still indeed to those who look back to days that were at that schoolhouse.
This building was from the beginning wisely used for other purposes than the two terms of school. In "the forties." as I well remember, there was a "speaking school." in which the men and women of the district were greatly interested. At
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the weekly meeting the seats were filled. Political speeches, patriotic words of the Fathers of the Republic and humorous selections were spoken with no little vigor and grace. Poems, dramatic pieces, Shakspearian and others, with elaborate cos- tuming, were also given. "Lochiel's" Warning was burned into my being by Samuel Boyden and John A. Barclay. The boys and girls from all homes were allowed to attend. Some, at least, found profit thereby.
About the same time there was a district library at the schoolhouse. The books were mostly, if not wholly, for adults. I saw them often, but cannot now give more than this general statement. Whether the books really belonged to No. 5, or were a part of some provision by the town for all the districts, I cannot say. Possibly this reference to such an early library may lead some one to look up the matter before it is too late.
Late in "the fifties" some of the children of the earlier day just noted, were active in a debating society, which held its weekly meetings also in the schoolhouse. They retained the recitation of selections from oration and poem, added de- bates of various public questions and the special one of Ameri- can slavery in its political and moral relations to the life of and destiny of the nation. A weekly journal was also prepared and read, not a little original matter being provided by mem- bers of the society. The gentler sex were helpers indeed. Along with more sober strains of effort by pen and tongue, wit and humor had their devotees as in all sane assemblings and activities of men and women. Although Bumskit had then ceased to be an industrial center, it was still customary to take work home from the boot shops at the center and thus the homes were yet so full that generally the schoolhouse was filled at the meetings of the debating society. Lyceum, I think, was, after all, the name used.
One great gain was presently manifest. Patriotism grew by discussion and the reproduction of the patriotic ut- terances of public men. And when the rude alarm of war came, not only were the national colors at every door and every breast, but men paid the supreme price of patriotism, putting life at peril for the nation's weal.
Religious services also had a place as the years passed. The Rev. Levi Packard, now and then, preached at five p. m., Sunday. He was wont to distribute a printed sermon, one of his own. They were worthy of careful reading. How clearly I can see the stately bearing of the man. See him again in the school hour as "examining committee" and recall his just questioning. In his closing "remarks," I note once more the deepening tone as he passes to moral and religious suggestions
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and solemnly affirms that "Good boys and good girls make good men and good women." Then follow the words of prayer in tones that sober me across the vanished years.
The Methodist and Baptist clergy also held services at the schoolhouse. In late years, members of the Y. M. C. A. at the center came occasionally to hold meetings. In these cer- tain of the old schoolboys shared. as Lewis and George Prouty, Daniel A. Ball and others. Some services were appointed at "early candlelight." As the schoolroom was not furnished for lighting the "neighbors" used to bring "tallow dips," some with candle-sticks and some without. Turnips and pota- toes were made to serve as holders or drippings from the lighted candle were utilized to hold the candle itself. Others came with whale oil lamps, sometimes these would burn only un- certainly, needing the snuffer almost as often as the candles. Then the day of "burning fluid" gave another variety. Pine oil, and coal oil had a brief history, then kerosene put all other illuminators in eclipse. School and church at North Spencer were joined in the common purpose to enlighten, strengthen and bless each and all.
The old schoolhouse was not in decay. It was outgrown. North Spencer had then large families. It was said there were twenty-one births at Elisha Frouty's. Of these a large num- ber reached mature life, albeit some died in infancy. The mother outlived her husband and had "a green old age." She was a real mother, "one of God's mothers." as George Mac- donald said of a Scotch woman who loved every bairn whether her own or not. At Jonathan Monroe's were sixteen births, at my father's, twelve. Sturdy groups came schoolward from every quarter. Children were in every dooryard at Bumskit. They came along the Jocktown road. Lyons. Walkers and Cun- ninghams ; Whittams from a branch road ; Scotts. Balls and Barrs from the Oakham road; Newtons. Proutys, Clarks and Boydens from the village ; and Newhalls, Allens, Clarks, Coles and Monroes from the south. It is not strange that a larger house was demanded.
The old was transformed into a dwelling house. A cellar was dug, of which there is still a showing. Lewis Newton, already mentioned, with his mother lived therein for a year and a half. Later the house was sold to Christopher G. Lyon, who moved it to a plot of land near his father's home. on the road to Jock- town. In it his large family was reared and when able Mr. Lyon added a two-story front. The older part is yet in service, the original red paint still in evidence. The day of removal was a great day for the small boy. It was not a light matter for the men of the neighborhood. Mr. Lyon arranged a "bee"
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SKETCHES OF SPENCER HISTORY
for the work. Heavy oxen from the Hubbard farm and strong horses from the Allen place and from all the country side stal- wart teams came. Chains, cables, blocks and other appliances were in hand. The house was undershod by long timbers and a whole day was hardly enough for the task. Cables parted, chains failed and men hurried to the smithy for repairs; team- sters shouted; the long drawn team renewed the strain again and again, and so the day wore on. Thus in the "good old times," neighbors helped each other.
One sailor boy went out from No. 5 .. Boys sometimes, as is well known, become restive and think life away from home must be fairer. Two, at least, of our old number ate of that insane root. Horace, eldest son of Elisha Prouty, and John H., eldest son of Pliny Allen. They plotted and escaped from home. I received something of their confidence and shared for a little their fever. When they put one of the plans to action I was left out. They were missed from home one morning. About two weeks later Horace re-appeared at his father's; was welcomed ; remained at home and was a faithful son, ripening to a vigorous manhood, living worthily until his decease some years since. John H. did not return. His father diligently sought him, only to be disappointed. Finally Mr. Allen traced his boy to New Bedford and reached the wharf just after John bad sailed away for a whaling voyage. Of course such con- duct filled both homes with grief. In the one case relief soon
came. In the other sorrow was protracted. I think seven years passed before the sailor boy came again to his patient mother, who had so long waited his coming. The warm wel- come from all kept him for some years. Later the ties of wife and children made him yet more content away from blue water. Still the love of the sea stayed with him. He was not a lands- man. He sailed again as supercargo in a good ship and found a grave in the deep, deep sea. To me his memory is precious. We were friends.
One boy had an unusual experience not long after his ninth birthday. It was in winter; heavy snows had fallen. The fields, even the fences, were hidden by the prevailing blanket. of snow. Then rain came, swiftly followed by intense cold. Thus the finest coasting was ready for all. School had closed and every owner of a sled was delighted and busy. This boy had that winter a birthday present of a sled, fashioned well in oak by his father. Christmas in those days was but slightly noted in North Spencer. No Christmas trees were known. No stockings were hung. St. Nicholas was a great unknown. We wished each other a "Merry Christmas" in mutual rivalry for the first loud salute with that phrase. School "kept" and
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NORTH SPENCER.
work went on as on other days. There were no "holidays" for the boys and girls of Bumskit at Christmas. Hence I write, the sled was a birthday gift, albeit this boy was born on Christ- mas day.
As the good coasting appeared the new sled was fully in service. One winter day the youngster disputed with his mates as to the best place for the afternoon's sport. The others went east and he to the west from Bumskit. Near the Morse place on the road to the pond, he coasted on the slope into the open meadow. Coming up the hill, as is ever the alternative in coasting, the lad noticed a slight mound near the top of the hill. Thinking it a capital place for the sled to receive an impulse from the knee. he at once put his sled in position, then stepped behind to give the push and fly down the slope on the firm, shit- ing crust. His next consciousness came to him at the bottom of the Morse well, as in quick effort for safety he scrambled from the water to the wall of the well. Then dripping from the hasty plunge from which he had emerged with a complete wetting and certain bruises, he began to think of the larger matter, how to get out of the well itself, which was some thirty feet deep, though fortunately it had only a few feet of water in its hole.
An uncle lived not far away. So the first thought was to call him. But loud shouts for help brought no response. The voice was from too great a depth. Soon realizing this, effort was made to get nearer the surface of the ground in order to be heard. but without thinking of an unaided exit. His hands had been protected from the biting cold of the winter day by a pair of new mittens, a birthday gift from his mother. To use them now would spoil them. So they were stowed in poe- kets and the task of climbing renewed without protection for the hands. Halts with fresh cries for help were multiplied, but none came. Slowly, successfully climbing was secured, though still confident help was essential to escape from the well. Presently a point was reached where all the wall above was coated with polished ice. A long halt followed, with urgent calling for aid. Still there was no evidence that any one heard the strenuous call.
The afternoon waned. The boy's troubles grew. To stay at the point reached was not easy. To relax his uncer- tain hold was to fall to the bottom again and to perish. To climb higher with fingers stiffened by the increasing cold was work indeed. But discouragement was resisted and a fresh push upward made. The grasp of hand and hold of foot failed again and again on the ice-bound stones of the rising wall. Fortunately both did not fail at once. At length it was pos-
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sible to show a hand above the top of the well. Another pro- longed cry for help was as useless as all before. Again he pushed upward and somehow helped by the Unseen, directly he rolled out from the icy mouth of the well and the hard fight ended in victory.
Getting his feet under him and seizing the cord of the sled which had barely balanced at edge of the broken crust at the well's mouth, he ran to the nearest shelter, the shop of the uncle he had called so lustily and vainly. Once there he was asked : "Where have you been?" "In the Morse well," said the shivering boy. "I don't believe it," was the response. With that a well known "Cracker pedlar" came in, saying at once : "He tells the truth, I saw him roll out and start down the hill." Then the heavy, frozen clothing, the stiff, benumbed fingers gave added confirmation. A stir followed and soon the half-frozen boy was in a warm bed, petted by two faithful, motherly women.
Word was hastily sent to the father and presently his word of cheer brought fresh comfort. The lad had known the well was on the hillside and unprotected. But that day none could have noted it in any other manner than by stepping into it as the white mantle of winter was over that as over all the hidden things of the fields. The thoughtful father hastened to cover it so that no other boy might sound its depth in such manner. Then after due refreshment the lad with this new burden of early experience found the welcome of his home.
Dwight F. Monroe, an old schoolmate, sends me the follow- ing list of men who served in the army during the Civil War, who were North Spencer boys, or were living there at time of enlistment. Mr. Monroe himself, (think he was the first to enlist), his two brothers, George M. and David B., Henry P., John B. and Charles F. Lyon, Horace and Addison Prouty, Daniel A. Ball, Emerson Stone, David B. and Charles H. Allen, John W. Bigelow, Charles A. Boyden, Lyman Newhall, Daniel M. Rowell, Alonzo Tyrrell, Thomas Moore, Charles L. Fay, Joseph Benjamin, Tertullus Ward. To these may be added three names from Paxton families attending church at Jock- town. A goodly number indeed. D. F. Monroe was mustered in June 21, 1861, Tenth Mass. Co. H. Was the first man
wounded in the regiment at the battle of Williamsburg and Fair Oaks, and after hospital experience was honorably dis- charged for disability occasioned by gun-shot wound in the hip. I cannot give even glimpses of the services of these brave boys. Their record is elsewhere and imperishable. Mr. Monroe gives a generous word for Daniel M. Rowell .. He
P
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served in Co. K, Tenth Mass. Mr. Rowell was the best fighter in the regiment. At Fair Oaks when a shot splintered his gun stock he stopped to fill and light his pipe, then picked up a gun from the side of a fallen comrade and while loading a shot ruined the ramrod, not discouraged he seized the gun of another comrade just fallen and continued to fire at the enemy and had to be pulled from the field when a retreat was ordered.
Tertullus Ward married my sister in the summer of 1862. . Soon after he enlisted in a Vermont cavalry regiment and was killed at Gettysburg.
There are a few others of whom a word must have place : George Miron, eldest son of Jonathan and Hannah Monroe, is worthy of honorable mention aside from his army record of which it can only be said he was under Gen. Banks at New Orleans with David, his younger brother, to share his ex- periences. George, while a boy, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, contributed several thoughtful, well-written articles to the Boston Cultivator, which appeared in its literary department. As schoolmates we wondered at such success of our playfellow. He had won recognition for good work while we were busy with play. Of later literary effort by him I have no know- ledge. He was ever a quiet, unassuming man, retiring and reticent.
His schooling was limited by the opportunities afforded in the school of his birthplace. In touch with leather from his. earliest memory he became, like his father and many others in Spencer, a boot-bottomer. Patient in toil he found within himself enough to make life significant. To all outward ap- pearance his interest in woman was slight. At least his: attention to any of the other sex was unobserved. He re- mained a bachelor. His life was pure and reverent. His still nature had depth and unusual power of self-control and direction.
Intellectual development made little outward show for many years. He seemed content with the modest returns of daily toil in the shop. But after William Sumner's inspiring teaching in sacred music at the old meeting house, there was an awakening in the soul of this quiet man. His musical power began to appear. Visiting him after some years I found he had written much. His music began to have place in the col- lection published by L. O. Emerson and W. O. Perkins. His work was not unworthy of such honor. Creative forces con- tinued to stir in him. In a few years he so increased his mann- script collection and his courage to test the public appreciation. of his work as to purpose the publication of a book himself.
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