USA > Massachusetts > Berkshire County > Cheshire > History of the town of Cheshire, Berkshire County, Mass. > Part 8
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Berkshire, ss. To Peleg Green, lately of Linesborough, within the said county of Berkshire, gentlemen, greeting: Whereas the Great and General Court of the Common- wealth of Massachusetts, began and holden at Boston on the last Wednesday of Jan- nary, A. D., 1793. did incorporate a part of the town of Adams, Lanesborough, Windsor and New Ashford into a Township by the name of Cheshire, and appointed me the subscriber to call on the Inhabitants of the said Incorporation qualified to vote in Town affairs, to meet together at some suitable place, within the bounds thereof. to choose Town Officers and other matters necessary to be done at said meeting. There are therefore in the name and by order of the said Commonwealth to require yon forthwith to notify the said Inhabitants to meet together at the Brick School-House near Moses Wolleott's in the said town of Cheshire on the first Monday of April next. at ten of the clock in the forenoon for the purposes above mentioned. Also notify the Inhabitants qualified to vote for Governor, Lieut. Governor, Councellor and Senators, that that is the time by order of law to vote for said offices. Also the time appointed by the Great and General Conrt for the choice of Representations for the second Dis- triet and for the County of Hampshire to set in the Congress of the United States of America.
N. B .- You are to take notice to warn all those Inhabitants qualified as aforesaid liv- ing in what is called New Providence, which once belonged to the said town of Adams. also those which belonged to Lanesborongh and New Ashford; all east of the top of Saddle Mountain, as far south as to Pitts Barker's sonth line: from thence eastward of said line of Lotts to Muddy Brook, thence all east of said brook as far south as to in- elude Stephen Whipple, and Isaae Horton, and Brooks Mason and Edward Wood, and all northward of Brooks Mison's south line straight, to Windsor line, and in Windsor as fir south and east as to Include William Felshaw and Mr. Burch, and William Whita- ker so from said Birch's east line to the north line of said Windsor. Hereof fail not and make due return of this warrant with your doings therein unto my self before the opening of said Meeting. Given under my hand and seal at Cheshire aforesaid the With day of March, in the year of our Lord, 1793.
JAMES BARKER, Just. of Peace.
FROM 1787-1797.
April 1st, 1793 .- At a town meeting held in the brick school house, Col. Jonathan Remington was chosen moderator; James Barker, town clerk; Elisha Brown, town treasurer; Jonathan Richardson, Jr., Daniel Brown and Timothy Mason, selectmen; Peckham Barker, constable, and to collect rates for sixpence on a pound ; Jonathan Richardson, Jr., Daniel Brown, Timothy Mason, Hezekiah Mason and William Jenkins, assessors; Daniel Mason and John Bennet, fence viewers. Indeed it seemed that almost every man had an appointment. Benjamin Brown and Jonathan Fish were chosen to view the fences and as field drivers. In 1794, the town voted to allow James Barker 1Ss. for his services as town clerk. Query: did James Barker make his fortune ? Hezekiah Mason, John Remington, sealers of leather; Nathan Wood and Daniel Read, hog reeves; Daniel Brown and Daniel Biddle- come, pound keepers. May 27th 1793, voted to raise £50 for the support of a school or schools. School money divided among children under twenty-one.
From 1793 the history of Cheshire as a town begins. In 1794 at the four corners upon the brow of the hill over which the valley road runs, a common was given by two land owners in the town, Capt. Daniel Brown and Squire Ezra Barker, and upon the common a lot to the Baptist church of Cheshire where was erected a commodious belfry crowned edifice which was dedicated on Christmas day, 1794. " What shall we do when doctors disagree," is a trite old question that has passed into a proverb, and applies equally well to the historian. We are met by conflicting statements concerning the names, by which the various Baptist churches have been known. The Stafford's Hill church is recognized by common consent as the First church. After the or- ganization of the town in 1793, the Six Principle church seems according to some, to be known as the Second church, and the dissenting members after the erection of their house of worship took the name of the Third church, while yet another going out at a later period was called Elder Sweet's church. Another class of writers either ignore the Six Principle or continue to speak of it as the "Second Lanesborough" thus giving the Sec- ond Cheshire to the dissenters, and the Third Cheshire to Elder Sweet's flock. As there seems to be about equal authority, we choose the former plan, and shall speak of the church at Cheshire corners as the Third Ches- hire church. The building erected in 1794 was a roomy one. Two massive doors at the west admitted the church goers into a large square vestibule formed by the tower. A smaller door to the south opened into the same entrance room. Wide winding stairs went up on the north end of this hall to the gallery above, a gallery which encircled the audience room on three sides. In this gallery directly in front of the pulpit, were the seats occupied by the singers, before them the red moreen curtains hung on brass rings, and swung from a brass rod. Entering at the lower door a broad aisle led up to
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HISTORY OF CHESHIRE.
the high pulpit, a long, narrow crooked flight of stairs terminated in the square structure thus designated. Upon the scarlet cushion, studded thick as stars, with brass nails, rested the Bible and hymn book, a cushioned seat accommodated the preacher who, if a short man, was compelled to stand on a cricket to bring his head above the railing of the desk. High upon the wall behind him was suspended the great sounding board, while far below, and just in front was the narrow, box-like seat designed for the deacons, the table before it where the communion service was spread and where, with the heavy pall sweeping the floor, the coffin, with the dead, stood dur- ing sermon and prayer. Two aisles, with pews on either side ended in the row of seats at the right and left of the pulpit. One can scarcely say to what style of architecture this building belonged. Fluted pillars supported the galleries, and were placed at equal intervals throughout the audience room. The pews were square with sides so high that a child could neither see, or be seen when seated within the inclosure. A grown person could look about from pulpit to gallery, and upon the pews of his neighbors. A door that opened upon the aisle was closed and fastened with a wooden button, cushions and carpets were rare. The seats ran around three sides of the square pew, and stowed away in the corner with head leaned comfortably against the high back, this was a favorable position for a nap.
When Elder Leland of saintly memory in his vicinity, first began his labors he found that to some, who had arisen at an carly hour, milked their cows, made their cheese, and driven through the hot sun for miles to at- tend service, the temptation to a quiet snooze could not be overcome. This troubled the good Elder, and he longed to break it up. One day when he noticed the boys in the gallery striving to drop a white bean fastened to a string into the wide open mouth of a sleeper below he could endure it no longer. Catching the big pulpit bible in his hands, he rapped with tremen- dous force npon the desk-three successive blows fell-each louder than the preceding, and calling the sleeper by name, he shouted in tones like thunder, " wake up! wake up!"' This had the desired effect, and they were few indeed who cared to indulge in a nap under Elder Leland's preaching. The boys usually occupied the south gallery, and it became advisable to seat one of the deacons on the high seat that they might be under his watchcare. The pews in the main part were owned by the proprietors according to the aid given in building.
Oh, the summer Sundays in that old church! Within the cool shade of those sacred walls the golden sunbeams poured through the windows with their countless panes of glass, falling in dusty beams over pews, and pulpit stairs, the breezes loaded with the perfume of rose and apple blossoms stole in at door and open window, lifting the snowy locks from off the pastor's
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FROM 1787-1797.
brow, fluttering the leaves of the open books, gently moving to and fro the red bandana of a good, old deacon whose failing health caused him to fear the draft. The prayer, the psalm, the text, the sprigs of dill and lavender. The tunes, Old Hundred, Meer, Balerma, and "Shepherds all sitting on the ground, the angel of the Lord came down, and glory shown around." One might almost hear the rings slide on the rod and the tuning fork as Brother Brown pitched the tune, even the humming runs along the ear as the tenor, treble and counter, each in turn, caught the note as it fell from the fork, and with a fa-sol-la swelled into tune. They stood in a line, from the bass to the fair haired girl that sung alto at the end of the row, and whose voice, growing sweeter with every bar, swept from choir to breathless pew, and filled every corner of the great room. Morning and afternoon services were held in this church, and people coming from a distance brought their own dinners, unfastened their horses from the vehicles, gave them their noonday meal of corn and oats, then walked with measured tread up and down the wayside, loitered amid the graves in the burying ground close by, or stood apart in little knots talking in low mysterious tones, discussing the crops, the weather, perhaps the latest bit of gossip and sometimes, a group of two or three gray-haired men and women sat by the western church door and lighted their pipes by the sun glass.
This church joined the Shaftsbury association in 1789, and continued increasing in so rapid a ratio that in 1800 it numbered 394 members. Elder Leland remained its associate pastor until 1797. Revivals in Cheshire and surrounding towns kept up large congregations in the, then new meeting house, and at each returning conference meeting one or more was added as members to the church. But the days of blessing passed away, and as a more worldly feeling obtained leading members in the church sometimes indulged in strong language, and bitter invectives toward one another. Each one was willing to draw the reins of church discipline tightly and strongly around every member but himself. As Elder Leland beheld this, and met them around the table of the Lord, it pained him. He had never, under the most favorable circumstances, enjoyed the Lord's Table and now it grew irksome, and trying to him, but what was he to do with these somewhat refractory members? They were people of high respectability, of unques- tioned position in both church and society, and were furthermore among his most intimate friends and neighbors. So, resolving to remember his own short comings, he would try to be forbearing with the faults of others. However he was not able to overcome the feeling and in August, 1797, he left Cheshire to travel and preach in the south, and never afterwards as- sumed the pastoral care of the Cheshire church so far as the breaking of bread was concerned.
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HISTORY OF CHESHIRE.
When the country was still new the dead were often buried on the home farm beneath the shade of some tree, on the bank of some murmuring brook, in a secluded spot convenient for the friends to visit. Many of these burial places still remain and have been beautifully described in the pen pictures of Judge Barker. But soon after the building of the new church in 1794, a public burying ground was also laid out across the street, and farther to the north than the meeting house.
A sexton was secured, provided with a pick ax and shovel, engaged to dig the graves, toll the bell, and take charge of the bier and pall.
It was the custom, then, to toll the bell for the dead, a custom which should never be suffered to die out. Whenever a resident in the parish died, this passing bell sounded-stroke upon stroke-long and solemn, they pealed out over the echoing hills. Sometimes at noon when busy with the cares of the day-sometimes in the early morning hours-some- times in the dead of night they roused the sleepers to tell them that one more of their number had gone out alone to solve the last great mystery.
The funerals were always attended in the church. Winding over the hills, along the quiet roads, the procession slowly toiled as the bell intoned the way. After the last hymn, and the benediction, the bier was placed upon the lawn before the church door, the coffin put upon and the pall thrown over it. In the bright sunshine of summer. or beneath the leaden skies of November, all crowded around for a parting look. The last farewell taken, the sexton fastened the coffin lid to its place, the bearers took their station by the bier, the procession formed again, and with the minister at the head walked to the grave yard where the relatives gathered around the open grave, the coffin with its precious freight was lowered, shovel after shovel full of earth thrown in, the sods arranged upon the top, and then with the final prayer over, all turned away.
In 1790, sometime during the month of February Jesse Jenks arrived at his nephew's house in Adams. He came from Cumberland. R. I., and brought with him on horse back as much gold and silver as a man could lift. Mr. Jenks purchased the farm opposite the glebe land on Stafford's Hill, being attracted to that spot as it was the most thrifty village by all means that the vicinity could show.
In 1791, Mr. Edward Martin came up from Barrington, R. I., reaching New Providence also in the month of February. He brought his household goods, wife and children, ou sleds drawn by oxen. Samuel Martin, known so long as Deacon Martin, was six years old at the time of their arrival. Mr. Martin bought the farm-which has never passed from the posses- sion of the Martins, and is located on the direct road to Adams-of Mrs. Hannah Cushing, widow of Caleb Cushing.
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FROM 1787-1797.
Samuel Martin, son of Edward, succeeded his father on this farm. He mar- ried Sarah, daughter of Hezekiah Mason, and granddaughter of Elder Nathan Mason. Orrin Martin, son of Samuel, lives in the village, and Frank Martin, grandson of Deacon Martin owns and manages the original farm.
The low store built by Moses Wolcott adjoining his inn proved to be a leading place of business for many years. As Moses Wolcott increased in prosperity he gradually enlarged his operations. In addition to the dairies from the many farms he owned he bought those of the surrounding farmers. He put up a cheese house just south of his own house, and stored the golden products of the farms, tier after tier of cheese, and row after row of jars packed with sweet fall butter, which he held until the proper time to ship and sell. Other industries developed, a grist-mill was built on the brook north of the kitchen. The ruins still stand, the brook laughs along its stony bed, tumbles over the white boulders as fresh and young as when it turned the wheel, now crumbling away. This Kitchen, a little square hollow in the hills with stone steps leading down to it, was so named by the first pioneers on account of its form. Like the dwellers among the Tyrol mountains in Switzerland, these people at the Kitchen might look up from the chimneys to see if the cows were coming down the narrow paths. Once upon a time, (as all stories begin), there lived in one of these cot- tages on the brink of the brook a doctor. Not having a large store of "the root of all evil," he could not bestow a generous share upon his wife. Wishing very much one spring for some money she revolved the wish in her mind, again and again, until she decided to sell her hair. It was silky, glossy and abundant, it brought a good price, and with the money thus obtained, she purchased a lottery ticket and drew a thousand dollars which was a vast amount for a woman to own-a large sum, indeed, for a man, as men counted money then,-when one of these provincial men said to a neighbor one day:
"If I had a thousand dollars I would be quite willing to die."
"Why ! why !" said the neighbor, "what good would your money do you if you were to die ?"
"Oh, I'd have the name of dying a rich man."
A large distillery stood where the watering trough beyond G. Z. Dean's store now stands, and was managed by Capt. Brown. The iron ore beds on the farm of Jesse Mason, (afterwards owned by James Brown) were worked extensively during the year of 1790. The ore was taken to Dalton.
At the Kitchen, Nathan Wood had a grist and saw-mill, and a little later a distillery on the old Lanesborough road near the town line. Over in the Jacques neighborhood was a fulling and carding-mill. Peppermint was grown quite extensively and the essence manufactured.
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HISTORY OF CHESHIRE.
Captain Daniel Brown erected one of the first frame buildings in town on the farm now owned by William A. Pomeroy, and in 1797, wishing to make his home at the corners put up the beautiful house where he spent the re- mainder of his days, known now as the Hoosac Valley Hotel. An elegant place, indeed, it was for any time ; but for those days it must have been something very superior.
Standing on a grassy knoll, a little back from the village street, with towering trees to shade it from the sun, it looked, then, upon the level meadows of the Hoosac and the mountains beyond, without a house to in- terfere until the river was crossed.
A low red gate gave entrance into the garden, across the street. A broad, well beaten path led down the entire length, bordered by beds of flowers, masses of mignonette, sweet peas, asphodel and marigolds, while sage. fennel, sweet marjoram, thyme and summer savory grew beyond. Farther down the garden were thrifty rows of vegetables of every variety grown on a gentleman's grounds in this year of grace 1884. The Kitchen Brook which came down from the hill at the rear of the fields, was divided and turned by the Captain. Part of its waters flowed on in their usual channel, and part were brought in troughs through the fields. The brook was thus made to cross the street, into the garden where down its entire length it followed an artificial channel. All along its banks were lilies, flags, mosses, cresses, and water loving plants in profusion. A grassy margin around the outer edge accommodated currant and goose- berry bushes, and everywhere grew and bloomed in perfect luxuriance, roses of all sorts, from the purest white to rarest red. Grape vines, pluin and apple trees flourished there. Between the brook and the house stood a cider-mill, and up the banks was a rustic saw-mill surrounded by white birch trees.
The spacious house contained room for children and grandchildren, sis- ters, nephews, and nieces, and the poor were uot turned empty from the door. The Captain's heart responded to every call. To be poor and suffering was sufficient passport to his bounty. A man of good, practical sense he was fond of a good joke, and many anecdotes told of him to-day, give an idea of the sly humor, and the keen enjoy- ment experienced when listening to, or perpetrating one.
When the great cheese of 1803, manufactured of the united curds of the town dairies was made in Cheshire, it created quite an excitement through- out the country, and the following fall Captain Brown, and some friend from Cheshire, who were traveling up the Mohawk valley, to buy cattle and drive them home, stopped each night at some inn along the valley, and when the day's work was done, and suppers eaten, they sat in the bar-room
FROM 1787-1797.
chatting with the farmers and villagers of the neighborhood. Usually the conversation turned upon the mammoth cheese, when it was ascertained that the travelers were from Cheshire, and the companion of the Captain explained all about it very readily, and wound up by saying :
"Captain Brown and I put in fifty cows' milk."
The Captain listened to the story night after night, without comment, but when he reached home he could not refrain from telling the story where it was well known that the Captain put in the milk of forty-nine cows, while the friend only added one.
One gloomy fall night Mrs. Brown sat knitting by the fireside, some neighbors had dropped in for a call, and were talking busily of witches as they had seen them down country. The children were sitting by, listen- ing with eyes wide open, and hearts all a flutter. The Captain was going backward and forward, storing his meat in the cellar for winter use, when Mrs. Brown, impatient at the hobgoblin tales, said :
"Here, Captain, I wish you would stop these folks telling witch stories. The children will be so frightened they'll run at their own shadows."
"Stop them ?" said the Captain, as he stalked through the room, "if my children don't know enough not to believe such trash I'll flog them all around."
It was one hot day in summer, the village street was almost deserted ; the houses were closed, and everything was quiet except before the little store of Moses Wolcott, where a band of villagers were gathered in the drowsy air, canvassing the weather, and telling stories; when over the hill from the north a man appeared on horseback. Slowly advancing he drew rein before the men clustered upon the store steps, and after passing the time of day, asked if any of them had seen or heard aught of a stray horse.
All answered in the negative without hesitation until at last Captain Dan- iel said, "I can tell you, sir, I think, where you can find your horse."
The stranger eagerly inquired the way while all the "lookers on in Venice," cast looks of questioning wonder upon the Captain, and silently waited to hear what he had to say.
"Well, my good man, you turn right around, and go back until you pass Williamstown. Just before reaching Stamford you will see a path leading from the main road; take that direction, and follow on. As you advance the way will grow narrower, and more uneven, until it will be but little more than a bridle path with, here and there a gate, and now. and then a pair of bars. You will come at last to a little whitewashed hut. In that hut you'll find a negro living. That negro has got your horse. Tell him that you know he has the animal."
The man expressed the deepest thanks, and turning, retraced his steps.
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HISTORY OF CHESHIRE.
Scarcely was he beyond hearing when all with one accord exclaimed: "What did you know about the man's horse, Captain Brown ?"
"Nothing," was the quiet reply; "only I didn't believe that it was off down here, and I thought he had better be getting toward home, as night was coming down."
With a little laughing, and joking the matter was dropped, and forgot- ten, until when the 16th of August came, Captain Brown and one of the men that sat upon the doorstep of Moses Wolcott's store, drove up to the celebration of the Bennington Battle. About the middle of the day, as they were mingling in the crowd they saw a man at a little distance elbowing his way through the throng, making a frantic effort to reach them. Both men recognized the face as soon as their eyes fell upon it. " There, Captain, you'll catch it, now. That's the man that lost his horse, and he's after you and no mistake." "Yes, I guess that's him." replied the Captain, as he looked behind him; but there seemed to be no chance for escape in the blocking crowd, and he therefore awaited the approach of the stranger, who, when he came up seized his hand, and burst into the most profuse expressions of thankfulness, explaining:
" I followed your directions that day, and found everything precisely as you predicted I would. The crookedest, stoniest, steepest path that Christian or Turk ever trod was that one; but I found the nigger there. How ever did you know about that nigger ? Well! he was there anyhow, and he had the horse. He denied it first, just as you said but I stnek to it that I knew he had my horse, and sure enough he had, and I got the creature, and now you must let me pay you something for the information. The Captain protested against having any knowledge of the affair, affirmd that it was only done in a joke, and positively refused any remuneration. The man from Stratford would not believe that Captain Brown was telling him the truth, and went his way blessing him.
This was a strange coincidence surely, and furnished a very funny tale to tell in the . village bar-room for many a year. If every professed fortune teller could guess as correctly, their fortunes would be gathered in a trice.
At Warwick, in the olden days lived Chloe Bucklin, to whom, if we can trust rumor, many a village swain was devoted; but who had chosen Daniel Brown as her best loved admirer, and who had answered " Yes " when he proposed to make her his wife and take her to the new home he planned to build among the hills and mountains of Berkshire. Captain Brown's first visit to New Providence was before his marriage, and busy with buying land, and arranging for a home in the wilderness, he did not return to his affianced as soon as he promised. Her neighbors used banteringly to say, " Ah, Chloe ! Daniel has forgotten you; you'll never see him again." But
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