USA > Massachusetts > Barnstable County > South Yarmouth > Old Quaker Village, South Yarmouth, Massachusetts > Part 2
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Next to Thomas Akin's store, this side of it I think, nearer the corner, was David Akin's jewelry store, one part of which was used by Alexander Hillman as a tailor's shop until he moved across the street to the house now occupied by Frank Collins. Later this little building of David Akin's was moved to Bridge street and used as a postoffice. It is now the dwelling house of Uriah Sears. Thomas Akin was succeeded as postmaster by David Akin, who in turn gave way to John Larkin. Peleg P. Akin was postmaster when the postoffice was in the grocery store, now used as a library room, and he in turn gave place to Bernard L. Baker, who held the office for many years. In the meanwhile, however, the little building had become the postoffice again and continued so until the appointment of the present postmaster, J. W. Crowell, who moved into new quarters.
Down this street, leading to the "cellar house," at the wharf, was the blacksmith shop of Charles and Timothy Akin, the village blacksmiths.
"Uncle Timothy," said Mr. Wood, "was a very keen and witty old Quaker, and very fond of a joke. One day he came to my grandmother's house and said, 'Liddy, I want thee to get thy pota- toes and dumplings all ready tomorrow and I will bring thee a goose.' My grandmother thanked him for his kindness, and the next day Uncle Timothy appeared and said, 'Liddy, here is thy goose; it is rather tough and will need a deal of cooking.' And
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he pulled out from under his coat a tailor's iron goose! I don't know what my grandmother said, but she kept the goose and it was in the family for many years."
Uncle Timothy was a practical joker and many were the pranks he played upon one and another of the villagers. Although some of his jokes resulted in a sacrifice of material, he was always ready to make good the loss, and seemed to count himself the gainer though the fun cost him several hours of labor. "On a cer- tain occasion he partly filled a gun barrel with water, securely closing the muzzle and inserting a plug in the tube so slightly as to allow of its removal by a slight pressure from within. One day Uncle Robert, a boat builder and intimate friend and frequent visitor of Uncle Timothy, called at the smithy and entertained him- self, while engaged in conversation, by blowing the huge bellows at the forge. Just then it occurred to the smith that it was a favor- able opportunity to try that gun barrel, so, with other irons, he carefully laid it on the fire, and going out of the shop he took a position where he could watch the development of events within; Uncle Robert, meanwhile, ignorant of the preparations, blowing away as if great results depended upon his diligence. As the heat increased, the water in the gun barrel began to boil and the pressure of steam became so great that the plug was forced from the tube, and the issuing steam, after the manner of Hero's engine, caused the gun barrel to leave the fire, sending it in the air in so zig-zag a course as to defy all attempts at predicting where or when it would finally alight. Uncle Robert, who was
somewhat corpulent, was entirely taken by surprise, and not
knowing what the infernal machine might
do next in its mad career about the shop, crawled under the bellows to get out of the way, in which awkward position he was found by the blacksmith, who just then happened(?) to come in to see what on earth was to pay!" (Cape Cod News, 1887.)
Across the street from Thomas Akin's store was the house of Alexander Hillman, (now occupied by Frank Collins) and attached to it was his tailor's shop in which he employed a dozen or more women and boys, the latter being apprentices who were learning the trade, among them being Mr. Wood. Asking Mr. Wood who worked there at that time, I found that many of the women I knew as wives of prominent men in the village were among the number, and others came from Yarmouth, Dennis and Brewster. Evidently some of them were not satisfied with their boarding
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places, as the following prayers were written by two of the tailor- esses, who possessed a streak of humor in their make-up:
"Lord of love, look down from above 1
And pity us poor creatures; Give us some meat that is fit to eat, And take away the fish and potatoes!" -
"Lord make us able To eat all that is on the table, Except the dish cloth and ladle!"
:
Alexander Hillman afterwards removed to New Bedford, where he continued the tailoring business.
Next to this house was that of Cyrenus Kelley, grandfather of William R. Farris, a former resident of this
place. It later on became the property of William White, and is now occu- pied by his son, Edwin M. White. Cyrenus Kelley was a carpen- ter by trade, and had a shop back of his house. William White was one of a large family that descended in direct line from Peregrine White, the first white child born in New England, and one of the sons, I think Captain Osborn White, has in nis possession the cane that belonged to the said Peregrine. William White's direct line from the "Mayflower" is as follows:
1 William White with his wife Anna came over in the Mayflower.
2 Peregrine, first white child born in New England.
3 Jonathan White.
4 Joseph White.
5 Deacon Joseph White.
6 Peregrine.
7 Alfred, William, Perry, Rufus, etc.
On the opposite side of the street was the house of Zeno Kelley, now occupied by Mr. G. W. Tupper. Mr. Wood remembers Uncle Zeno very well because he gave him five dollars a year to milk his cow, and he remembers that one night he forgot to milk. How little things remain in our memories- things that happened long years ago- while events of yesterday are even now forgotten! Uncle Zeno also built and occupied for awhile the house opposite, known as the "Edward Gifford house," one of the most picturesque old houses in the village. He conveyed the premises, says Mr. Wing, in 1805, so that the building is somewhat over a hundred
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years old. Uncle Zeno also built the house formerly used as a Methodist parsonage, standing opposite the church on Main street, but which when erected occupied the present site of the late Mrs. Sarah Bray residence.
Uncle Edward Gifford had a large family. One of them-his daughter Sarah R .- I remember quite distinctly as the village dressmaker; a very bright and witty old maid and a great favorite with all who knew her. I recall that at one time, I think it was during the Civil war, she had company to tea and her mother, a hospitable old Quaker lady, said to the young women present at the table, "Girls, eat all the butter thee wishes, but I'm dreadful afraid it will hurt thee." And the eating of too much did hurt the pocketbooks of many of our parents during those times when everything was high and money scarce. Mr. Wing has sent me some of the bills received by Wing & Akin in those days for goods from the wholesalers, and from them I find that the consumer must have paid about sixty cents a pound for butter, one dollar a gallon for kerosene oil, thirty-five cents a pound for sugar, and other things in proportion. It is a wonder that our fathers were able to live and bring up large families of children. Evidently they were living the "simple life."
The street to the water from Edward Gifford's was then a private way and led to the ferry landing which was near the cooper shop of Frederick P. Baker. This cooper shop was built about seventy years ago and was at one time the scene of great industry. One of the sights of my boyhood days was to watch the cooper as he fashioned his barrels, which seemed more wonderful in the various stages than most anything within my experience. I look back to my recollections of Mr. Baker with a great deal of pleasure. He was always one of the most cordial in greeting me when I came home on my vacations from the city, and I recall many a pleasant chat with him in those days when it meant so much to a boy to be noticed by an older man.
The charter for the ferry was granted to David Kelley, and the boats later on were run by "Uncle" Elihu Kelley, who lived on the opposite side of the river. The rates were two cents for a single passenger and twenty-five cents for horse and carriage, which were taken across the stream in a flat bottom boat. "He had a skiff for passengers and a scow for teams," said Mr. Wood, "and a conch shell was tied to a post at the landing, which was blown when the services of the ferryman were needed. The mischievous boys would
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often blow the conch to get the old man out." Mr. Wing has this to say of Uncle Elihu:
"Although Uncle Elihu's accustomed place in the Friend's meeting, which he regularly attended though not a member, was upon the 'rising seats,' he was evidently averse to talking much of his religious views, for it is related of him that, when questioned upon that subject by a travelling preacher while the ferry boat was in mid-stream, the old man pretended to be very hard of hearing and replied as he poled the boat vigorously, 'Yes, about half way across;' and upon a repetition of the inquiry, he said, 'Yes, yes, about half way across, half way across,' and so evaded the ques- tion."
He was very much opposed to the building of a bridge, declar- ing that he could see no sense or reason in such a thing; but the bridge was built and the old ferryman's occupation was gone. The bridge was built in 1832, and as the old man lived until October, 1841, he had many chances to cross it if he so wished. Mr. Wing further says, "The several roads leading from the main highway to the river had been but private ways, but even the one leading to the ferry had a gate across the upper end, upon which Tom Lloyd, the schoolmaster, had painted the words, 'To the Ferry,' but the establishment of a bridge necessitated the laying out of a public way, and to this need the Bridge street of today doubt- less owes its origin."
As I have said, the bridge was built in 1832, and the late Peleg P. Akin told me that he was the first to cross it, being carried in the arms of his nurse across a planking. Mr. Wing, in one of his Register articles, gives an interesting account of the old toll- house and also of the present building, which I copy in full, as probably no better account could be written.
"Relegated to a position in the back yard near the river's edge, the original toll-house connected with the Bass river lower bridge now serves as a general storehouse. Its successor, moved a little back from the site occupied by it previous to the time when by action of the state legislature the bridge was made free, is a more pretentions building, which furnished a residence for the toll- keeper. It formerly had an extension of the roof over the side walk. Upon this projecting roof was a large sign giving the rates of toll for all possible combinations of vehicles, passengers and quadrupeds. The first toll-keeper whom I remember was Micajah Baker, who also served in later years as telegraph operator. The toll-house was a favorite resort evenings for men and boys. On
.
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three sides of the room were wooden benches which were gener- ally filled, while Mr. Baker occupied a chair tipped back, in the part of the room farthest from the outer door. A stone water pitcher always stood upon the shelf close by, which was exceed- ingly popular, especially when the tobacco smoke was thicker than usual; Mr. Baker used to declare that boys walked all the way from Provincetown to drink out of that pitcher. The writer well remembers one evening when the pitcher seemed to be neglected more than usual; but the cause was apparent when it was learned that there was no water in it. After a time a schoolmate volun- teered to fill it. He took the pitcher, was gone about the usual length of time, returned and set it in its accustomed place. The first one who sampled the contents, made a wry face, quite per- ceptible to the knowing ones, but said nothing and resumed his seat. The explosion came when the second person stepped for- ward, and then the fact developed that the pitcher had been filled with salt water from the river. The joke was greatly appreciated, but that boy wasn't asked for a long time to fill the pitcher again. Occasionally, during the long winter evenings, the shrewd hoy trader having molasses candy and cornballs for sale came in, and trade in that line was generally lively for a time. As the hour for the coming of the evening mail drew near, the attendance in the room gradually diminished, and when word came of its actual arrival, there was a general rush for the postoffice. David Smith, a Mr. Cahoon and another person whose name I do not now recall served as toll keepers after Mr. Baker."
Of course the river has always entered largely in the life of the village, but even this has changed in the course of years. Bass, which were once plentiful in the river, have long since passed it by, and within my recollection one could catch quantities of bluefish with a hook and line from the banks at the mouth of the river. Clams, quahaugs and oysters were onee to be had in return for a little labor; now even the clam is found in small numbers, while the other two are almost strangers. The "oldest inhabitant" can remember when the river was almost devoid of eel-grass that makes it now so shallow, while the salt marshes were not in evi- dence to a great extent, the shores being clear white sand.
On the street leading to the ferry lived Captain Benjamin Tripp, and his son, Joseph Tripp, lived in one half of the house or in the ell. Captain Tripp commanded the schooner "Polly" and was in the lumber business.
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The street beginning at the residence of the late Peleg P. Akin, now owned by his daughter, Mrs. G. W. Tupper, and continuing down to what is known as the "magnesia factory street," was then merely a passage way and was called "Cat alley." On one side was Uncle Zeno's apple orchard, and below the Edward Gifford house were salt works as far as what is now called the "red house," and on the shore were two salt mills, one owned by Edward Gifford and the other by Prince Gifford, his brother.
The Lewis Crowell house came next. The "red house," also known as the "witch house," was built, says Mr. Wing, by Joseph Crandon, generally known as "Old Cran," and sold afterwards to Samuel Farris, great-grandfather of William R. Farris. Captain Isaiah Crowell bought the place in 1808 with a strip of land ex- tending from the river to Main street, the northwesterly portion of which is now owned by the Owl club, the building now their headquarters having been erected in 1827.
An interesting story is told of the porch of the "red house." It seems that in 1812 the owner desired to build a porch as an addition to his house, and sent to New Brunswick for the lumber. When the vessel bringing the lumber reached Chatham it was pursued by a British privateer. The captain ran his vessel ashore and he and his crew escaped in boats. The privateersmen, seeing that the cargo was only lumber, sailed away, having first, however, set fire to the vessel. The captain and crew of the burning ves- sel, seeing the enemy disappear, returned to it, put out the fire, floated the craft and proceeded on the voyage, delivering the cargo in due time. Some of the timbers were charred. but were used and may be seen to this day if one is inquisitive; at least they were seen by the men who were working upon the house a few years ago. Lewis Crowell lived in this house until he died, and after him, his son, Captain Hatsel Crowell, who was lost at sea. Hatsel had three children; the oldest hecame a sailor and disappeared, no one ever knowing his fate; the other two grew up and both died of consumption. Since that time the house has had many occu- pants but at present is the summer residence of Charles D. Voorhis.
Mr. Wood says he well remembers when the Isaiah Crowell house was built, (1839) as he and another boy were sent to Dennis to inform the Friends that there would be a "raising" in the morning and a Friends meeting in the afternoon. It was Isaiah Crowell's grandehild who was the last person to be married in the meeting house. He was captain of a ship in early life, and in the
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war of 1812 his vessel was captured off St. Johns, Newfoundland, by a British cruiser. He had made several successful voyages pre- viously, which had brought him in a large amount of money, so that, for the days and the place, he was considered a wealthy man. He was for thirty-seven years director of the Yarmouth National bank, and for eighteen years its president. His son, Henry G. Crowell, lived at the old homestead for many years. He was a suc- cessful business man in Boston and held many positions of trust under both state and city governments.
Coming back now to the street that runs past the front of the Peleg P. Akin house to Main street, we find that the spot now occupied by the dwelling of Captain Joseph Allen was Uncle Zeno Kelley's apple orchard, and the space was filled with trees, which, as a lady who well remembers them said, were full of pink and white blossoms in the spring time, and she never passes the spot but she seems to see them and smell their fragrance, as she did in the days of long ago. As I have said before, these trees, or those that remain, though very old, still give forth fruit in their season.
Pointing out the house now occupied by C. F. Purrington, Mr. Wood said that when he was a boy it was owned and occupied by Robert Wing, a boat builder. His shop is now Mr. Purrington's woodshed. "The land was bought of David Kelley, senior, in 1810. The frame of the building was originally intended to be erected on the old ferry road in West Dennis." (D. W.) His barn then stood near Main street, nearly opposite the town pump, and was moved to its present location by Mr. Fearing, who owned the place later on. He was a large, stout man of rather genial dispo- sition, I believe. He had a fine garden and grapery in which he took much pride. A man told me that when he was a boy, Uncle Robert hired him to take away a pile of stones from one end of his garden and place them at another spot, and when he had fin- ished the work to the old man's satisfaction, he told him to take them back and place them where he found them; this was his way of helping a boy to earn a little spending money. 'The house re- mained in the Wing family for many years, and was at one time the home of Franklin Fearing, who married Maria Wing, a sister of Stephen and Daniel Wing. Mr. Fearing was the proprietor of the magnesia factory, of which I shall have more to say later on. He was a man of more than ordinary education for this section in those days; a man of great intelligence; a man of genial dis-
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position, kind-hearted and a thorough gentleman. He served as a member of the school board for many years.
Opposite the Robert Wing house and next to the orchard was the pump and block shop of Prince Gifford, which was afterwards made over into a dwelling house in which Captain Jonathan Sears lived, and later on Bernard L. Baker, for many years the village postmaster. Prince Gifford was a very stern and austere Quaker with-as was not uncommon with the Friends in those days-but little sympathy for other religious beliefs than his own. It was this rigidness that was, in my opinion, the main reason why the Friends have gradually lost their footing in this country; it did not appeal to the young, and when the religious world became more liberal the Friends found it hard to give way. It is true that they too have grown more liberal, that the Friends do not insist upon the strict observances and penalties of years ago, but the change came too late. And yet after all, to me there are no sweeter memories than those of the old Friends and of their meet- ings. When Prince Gifford built his shop, he insisted that it should be built close to the line of the orchard and of the side- walk, and so it was built, as may be seen today. The house next to the shop was built by Unele Zeno, who lived there for awhile, but it afterwards became the property of Prince Gifford and his chil- dren still occupy it.
Next to this house was a little country store kept by Silas Baker and later still by his brother, Braddock Baker.
Next to the store and on the corner of Main street was a small house also built by Unele Zeno. Afterwards it was purchased by the Methodists for a parsonage, although previously it was owned by David Wood, who was the village blacksmith and whose first shop was near the cellar house, but afterwards he used his barn for the purpose. Mr. Wing recalls his business advertisement, which read somewhat as follows:
"Diamonds of the finest water. Horses shod on scientific principles at the shop of David Wood."
He moved to New Bedford and was for many years a letter car- rier in that city. Previous to its removal, this house was, accord- ing to Mr. Wing, occupied by "Jim Hudson," later by Timothy Akin, David K. Akin and his wife Rachel, Doctor Green, and Silas Baker and his wife Ruth H.
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Silas Baker piloted the first steamboat that ever sailed into Boston. It was a sort of seow, with no deck, and wood was used for fuel. Coming from the westward and arriving off Bass river, Captain Baker was taken on board as pilot around the Cape. My own recollections of Silas Baker are not very clear, but I remen- ber his wife, Aunt Ruth, who was the principal speaker at the Friends meeting for a great many years. She was a kindly old lady, and at New Years used to have a liberal supply of cornballs and other tempting things for the children who came to wish her a "happy new year." I can remember seeing her walking to Quaker meeting leaning on the arm of Uncle Silas; and I can remember her speaking in meeting and how I used to watch her as she deliberately untied her Quaker honnet of drab, passed it to the one sitting next to her, and then rising and in a voice of remark- able clearness spoke the words that came to her mind. I remember that she very often had something to say to "my dear young friends." I recall them all now,-Aunt Betsey Akin, Aunt Rhoda Wing, Aunt Tamsen Gifford, and afterwards Aunt Lizzie Stetson,- as they sat upon the "high seats." To me there were never such beautiful women to look upon, excepting my own mother: they always gave me the impression that they indeed communed with God. We have all remarked the beautiful countenances of the Sis- ters of Charity that we have seen upon the streets; they may not have regular features, they may not possess the physical lines of beauty, but there is something in their faces that makes one think them beautiful: and that was the impression upon my young mind when looking at those older women of the Friends in their quaint but becoming attire. I could not tell you why it was so, but the impression has always remained in my memory.
To the outsider, the men of the Quaker meeting always appeared stern and sedate, but they were by no means free from the spirit of life and enjoyed their jokes and bits of humor as well as anyone. They were just, but sharp in business and generally got the best of a bargain. At the same time, they were full of kindness and hospitality and I think this world, bounded by the limits of South Yarmouth, was better, morally and socially, at that time than it will ever be again.
Before leaving the house of Silas Baker, later the property of Mrs. Sarah Bray, I wish to speak of Aunt, Fanny Wholden, a rol- ative of Aunt Ruth's who lived with her many years. Aunt Fanny was what many call a "shouting Methodist," and seemed to enjoy her religion in proportion to the noise she could make in ex-
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pressing her feelings. Undoubtedly she was a very excitable woman by nature and found in this way an escapement valve for her pent up feelings. I have sometimes thought that living in a quiet Quaker family was too much for her and that after repress- ing her emotions for a whole week she let them flow forth at the regular Sunday night prayer meetings. I well remember her as an old woman, going to meeting in winter with her foot stove in one hand and a huge muff and cane or umbrella in the other. She sat in one of the side pews near the pulpit and was always present at prayer meetings, for in those days there were preach- ing services morning and afternoon and prayer meeting in the evening on the Sabbath. At these latter services Aunt Fanny was in her element and her "amen!" and "bless the Lord!" were inter- jected at all times. I am sorry to say that those of the younger generation saw much to smile at, and I suppose I was not any better than the other unregenerates, who did not understand that it was simply her way of expressing her joy and happiness. One of her favorite expressions was "Praise be to God!" and one even- ing while she was speaking some young people, unable to restrain their mirth, left the church, whereupon Aunt Fanny, pointing her finger at them, cried out, "There they go, straight to hell! Praise be to God!"
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