USA > Massachusetts > Hampden County > Picturesque Hampshire : a supplement to the quarter-centennial-journal > Part 16
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THE MOUTH OF BACHELOR'S BROOK.
79
PICTURESQUE HAMPSHIRE.
position which his father had labored in vain to reach.
Mr. Bates said to the writer that early in the "forties," in company with Mr. Baker, he visited the west. While at Wheeling they strolled along the bank of the Ohio below the city, and impelled by a sudden fancy, he ehal- lenged Mr. Baker to swim across the river with him. The challenge was promptly ae- cepted. Both were in the prime of life, and both possessed about equal muscular develop- ment. Divesting themselves of their elothing, . side by side, with measured strokes they crossed the Ohio, and then, without touching their feet to the ground, returned to the place of starting. This was a performance which Mr. Bates mentioned with some show of exultation. In all the histories and sketches of Amherst, Osmyn Baker does not occupy that prominence which his great merits richly deserve.
GETTING READY FOR PASTURE.
The most distinguished of the sons of Amherst, however, was Silas Wright. He graduated at Middlebury college, and read law with Mr. Martindale of Sandy Hill, a leading lawyer of Washington County, N. Y. Mr. Wright located at Canton, in the county of St. Lawrence, and commenced the practice of his profession. His great ability and sterling integrity were soon discovered and appreciated by the people, and while still a young man he was invited to fill positions of honor and responsibility. Within the space of twenty-five years be was elected state senator, representative in Congress, comptroller of the state, United States senator, and governor. When a large portion of the democratic party be- came involved in the meshes of Calhounism and kindred heresies, with Martin Van Buren and Thomas Hart Benton, he re- mained faithful to the political teachings of Jefferson, and inflexibly opposed the exten- sion of slavery and the insidious move- ments of the secession politicians. Pure and upright, patriotic and incorruptible, his name was never con- nected with official jobbery. Although he had filled some of the most important positions in the state and nation, and was simple and unostentatious in his manner of living, his estate at his death hard- ly reached ten thousand dollars. General Macomb, commander-in- chief of the army, who had made the acquaintance of Mr. Wright in
A STREAM IN " PEARL CITY."
Washington, while on an official visit to Northern New York, called on the senator at his Canton home and found him in the garb of a common laborer, busily engaged in harvesting the crops on his fifty-acre farm. During the last year of his life he regularly labored in the field with his hired man in the same manner as the most ordinary farmer. His early death was a national calamity. All honor to the memory of Silas Wright,
HOUSES BY THE WAY.
A PORCINE FAMILY.
Amherst's ab- lest and great- est son.
It may be of interest to know that the territory now known as the town of Am- herst was orig- inally the east- ern portion of thetown of Hadley. Re- ligious dissen- sions in Con-
THE HOME OF A MARKET GARDENER.
necticut caused the settlement of Hadley, and in 1659 and 1660 the "ox-bow," which the Connecticut river makes just above the present city of Northampton, was occupied by families from Hartford, Weathersfield and Windsor Ct., who were dissatisfied with the tendencies and de- cisions of their ecclesiastical authorities in Connecticut.
STONE BRIDGE ACROSS BATCHELOR'S BROOK.
IN THE CORN-FIELD-MT. TOM IN THE DISTANCE.
80
PICTURESQUE HAMPSHIRE.
PASS OF THERMOPYLE.
A COUNTRY FIRE.
There is a certain fascination and excitement about a fire anywhere. In the large places, however, it is so frequent a happening that it is taken very much as a matter of course and is an affair for the attention of the fire department, and not especially for the general public. In interest and pic- turesqueness few things equal the burning of a home in a country village. The old tavern at Hoekanum, burned Aug. 29th, 1888, furnishes a good example. It was a big, heavy framed structure built just before the beginning of this century. South of it, across the yard, was a large barn. At the time the place was occupied by a Mr. Davis, wife and daughter. The last were alone in the house that evening.
A LOOK ACROSS THE RIVER.
In the country, bed-time comes soon after dark in the long days of summer. So by nine o'clock most of the village houses were quite dark and silent, but abont ten the up-street people were aroused by a hurried tramp of cattle running past. Down street a horn was blowing and some one was shouting. "Fire!" cried a girl's voice from the roadway. "Fire! Fire!" she sereamed; "the hotel's afire!" Then she ran on, intent on getting the cows ont of harm's way to the pasture above. Lights began to appear in the windows along the way. There were hurried movements and excited voices and in a few moments men were on their way armed with pails,
ropes and ladders. The sky was dark, yet clear and sparkling with stars. As they ran they caught glimpses of the blazing building and of the smoke and sparks drifting up. The open space before the hotel was brightly lighted. There Mrs. Davis and her daughter were standing, wringing their hands and crying hysterically. Mrs. Davis had a shawl over her shoulders and their ragged little dog half bundled in it. The dog was inclined to bark, but when he growled the woman stopped her weeping and boxed his ears and commanded him sharply to stop. Then she went on crying "Oh, our home, our home! It'll be all burned! Oh, what shall we do! Oh dear! Oh dear! What shall we do?" The "L" part was all ablaze and the flames were leaping through the roof. Several men were throwing water on the side of the barn next the fire. Some ladders were brought, but none were long enough to reach to the roof. Inside the barn there was little to save, as the carriage and sleigh had already been dragged out. Upstairs was a little scattering of hay and below a few barrels with oats and meal in the bottom and a pile of bags.
ROCKS AT TITAN'S PIER.
At the house the bar-room door was open and a few bits of furniture and the hotel register were brought out. There was little besides, save a lot of bottles and a spittoon. There was no chance of saving the build- ing. Some one pulled off the hotel sign and unsuccess- ful attempts were made to get the piano out of the [CONTINITED ON NEXT PAGE.]
MT. NONOTUCK AT SUNSET.
TITAN'S PIER.
ON CONNECTICUT RIVER.
From that lone lake, the sweetest of the chain That links the mountain to the mighty main, Fresh from the rock and swelling by the tree, Rushing to meet, and dare, and breast the sea- Fair, noble, glorious river ! in thy wave The sunniest slopes and sweetest pastures lave ; The mountain torrent, with its wintry roar, Springs from its home and leaps upon thy shore :- The promontories love thee, and for this Turn their rough cheeks and stay thee for thy kiss. Stern, at thy source, thy northern guardians stand, Rude rulers of the solitary land, Wild dwellers by thy eald, sequestered springs, Of earth the feather and of air the wings ; Their blasts have rock'd thy cradle, and in storm Cover'd thy couch and swathed in snow thy form- Yet, bless'd by all the elements that sweep The clouds above, or the unfathom'd deep, The purest breezes scent thy blooming hills, The gentlest dews drop on the eddying rills, By the moss'd bank, and by the aged tree. The silver streamlet smoothest glides to thee. The young oak greets thee at the water's edge, Wet by the wave, though anchor'd in the ledge. -'Tis there the otter dives, the beaver feeds, Where pensive osiers dip their willowy weeds, And there the wild-cat purrs amid her brood, And trains them in the sylvan solitude. To watch the squirrel's leap, or mark the mink Paddling the water by the quiet brink ;- Or to ont-gaze the gray owl in the dark, Or hear the young fox praetising to bark. Dark as the frost-nipp'd leaves that strew'd the ground, The Indian hunter here his shelter found ; Here cut his bow and shaped his arrows true, Here built his wigwam and his bark eanoe. Spear'd the gniet salmon leaping up the fall, And slew the deer without the rifle-ball ; Here his young squaw her cradling tree would choose, Singing her chant to hush her smart papoose ; Here stain her quills and string her trinkets rude, And weave her warrior's wampum in the wood. -No more shall they thy welcome water bless, No more their forms thy moon-lit banks shall press, No more be heard, from mountain or from grove, His whoop of slanghter. or her song of love. Thou didst not shake, thou didst not shrink when, late, The mountain top shut down its ponderons gate, Tumbling its tree- grown ruins to thy side, An avalanche of acres at a slide.
Nor dost thou stay when winter's coldest breath Howls through the woods and sweeps along the heath- One mighty sigh relieves thy icy breast, And wakes thee from the calmness of thy rest. Down sweeps the torrent ice-it may not stay By rock or bridge, in narrow or in bay- Swift, swifter to the heaving sea it goes And leaves thee dimpling in thy sweet repose. -Yer as the unharmed swallow skims his way And lightly droops his pinions in thy spray, So the swift sail shall seek thy inland seas, And swell and whiten in thy purer breeze, New paddles dip thy waters, and strange oars Feather thy waves and toneh thy noble shores. Thy noble shores ! where the fall steeple shines, At mid-day, higher than thy mountain pines ; Where the white schoo !- house with its daily drill Of sunburn'd children, smiles upon the hill, Where the neat village grows upon the eye, Deck'd forth in nature's sweet simplicity- Where hard-won competence, the farmer's wealth, Gains merit, honour, and gives labor health ; Where Goldsmith's self might send his exiled band To find a new " Sweet Anbirn " in our land. What Art ean exeente, or Taste devise, Decks thy fair course and gladdens in thy eyes- As broader sweep the bendings of thy stream, To meet the southern sun's more constant beam. Here cities rise, and sea-washed commerce hails Thy shores and winds with all her flapping sails, From tropie istes, or from torrid main- Where grows the grape, or sprouts the sugar-cane Or from the haunts where the striped haddock pli y, By each eold, northern bank and frozen bay. Here, safe return'd from every stormy sea, Waves the striped flag, the mantle of the free, -That star lit flag, by all the breezes enrl'd Of yon vast deep whose waters grasp the world, In what Arcadian, what Utopian ground Are warmer hearts or manlier feelings found,
81
More hospitable welcome, or more zeal To make the curious " tarrying" stranger feel That, next to home, here best may he abide, To rest and cheer him by the chimney-side ; Drink the hale farmer's cider, as he hears From the gray dame the tales of other years. Cracking his shag barks, as the aged crone -Mixing the true and doubtful into one- Tells how the Indian scalped the helpless child, And bore its shrieking mother to the wild, Butcher'd the father hastening to his home, Seeking his cottage-finding but his tomb. How drums, and tlags, and troops were seen on high, Wheeling and charging in the northern sky, And that she knew what these wild tokens meant, When to the Old French War her husband went. How, by the thunder-blasted tree, was hid The golden spoils of far-famed Robert Kidd ; And then the chubby grandchild wants to know About the ghosts and witches, long ago ; That haunted the old swamp. The clock strikes ten- The prayer is said, nor unforgotten then The stranger in their gates. A decent rule Of elders in thy puritanic school. When the fresh morning wakes him from his dreams, And daylight smiles on rock, and slope, and stream, Are there not glossy curls and sunny eyes, As brightly lit and bluer than thy skies, Voices as gentle as an echo'd call,
And sweeter than the soften'd waterfall That smiles and dimples in its whispering spray, Keeping in sportive innocence away :- And lovely forms as graceful and as gay As wild-brier, budding in an April day : How like the leaves-the fragrant leaves it bears, Their sinless purposes and simple cares. Stream of my sleeping fathers ! when the sound Of coming war echoed thy hills around, How did thy sons start forth from every glade, Snatching the musket where they left the spade. How did their mothers urge them to the fight, Their sisters tell them to defend the right,- How bravely did they stand, how nobly fall, The earth their coffin and the turf their pall: How did the aged pastor light his eye, When, to his flock, he read the purpose high And stern resolve, whate'er the toil may be, To pledge life, name, fame, all-for liberty. -Cold is the hand that penned that glorious page Still in the grave the body of that sage Whose lip of eloquence and heart of zeal Made patriots act and listening statesmen feel- Brought thy green mountains down upon their foes- And thy white summits melted of their snows, While every vale to which his voice could come, Rang with the fife and echoed to the drum. Bold river ! better suited are thy waves To nurse the laurels clustering 'round thy graves, Than many a distant stream, that soaks the mud Where thy brave sons have shed their gallant blood, And felt beyond all other pain,
They ne'er should see their happy home again. Thou hadst a poet once,-and he could tell, Most tunefully whate'er to thee befell ; Could fill each pastoral reed upon thy shore- But we shall hear his classic lays no more ; He loved thee, but betook his aged way, By Erie's shore, and Perry's glorious day, To where Detroit looks out amidst the wood, Remote beside the dreary solitude.
Yet for his brow thy ivy leaf shall spread, Thy freshest myrtle lift its berried head,
And our gnarl'd charter-oak put forth a bough, Whose leaves shall grace thy Trumbull's honour'd brow. John G. C. Brainard, about 1800.
A COUNTRY FIRE .- Concluded.
parlor. A light wind was blowing from the south and Mr. Eliot Johnson's buildings were in con-
A FARM-HOUSE AND BIG BARN
siderable danger. Quite a crowd gathered there. Some pumped water, some carried. others were scattered about on the various roofs, to keel them wet, or make a dash at the sparks which fell. It is not an easy thing to climb a
steep roof, especially a wet one. Therefore in some cases the men took off their shoes and went stocking-foot or an
PICTURESQUE HAMPSHIRE.
old carpet was thrown over the shingles to serve as a foot-hold. The hotel was now all ablaze ; the shingles were gone and the rafters and ridge-pole glowed red in the flames. A big elond of smoke rolled up, filled with sparks - and cinders, which the veering wind often sent down in a shower over the guarded buildings. Most of the sparks would roll off the roofs of their own accord, or would be swept off by the breeze, or else glow a moment and then die out. Others were more tenacions and waited for a dash of water. Every roof had its man, and in the yard and house were other groups, all talking or shouting back and forth. The pump was being steadily worked in the back kitchen, where pails, cans and tubs were kept ready filled.
By this time, at the hotel, the upper part
LOOKING FOWARD MT. TOM FROM THE NORTH-EAST.
asked how the fire started. "We were in the parlor," she said, "and Lucy was playing on the piano and making a good deal of noise, and she heard a crackling in the kitchen and went out and found the room full of smoke and then we ran into the street. I don't know how it caught. We had a lamp burning in the kitchen. I suppose it ex- ploded." The fire bell had rung in Northampton, and presently the hose carts came up from the ferry. There was nothing for them to do and after growling a little and cracking a few jokes and in- quiring for cider the driver turned about and went home. Quite a number of villagers gathered at Mr. Johnson's. One man of the group in the yard said "things looked pretty siek" when he got on to the barn roof. Another seemed to think the sparks wouldn't have caught anyhow, water or no water. The man who had been on the corn-house roof said that got afire once, also that a live cinder dropped down his back and he had found it very inconve- nient getting at it. So the various experiences were told and the mystery of the fire's start was dis- cussed. Meanwhile the pot was steaming in the kitchen and all were invited in to have a cup of coffee.
THE OLDEST HOUSE IN HOCKANUM
had fallen in and [the sides were ragged and pierced by the flames,and the framework was fast crumbling. Ground and trees about were brightly lighted and even the mountain side was lit and faintly glowed against the blackness of the sky. In front, in the roadway, was gathered half the village, standing in groups, some talk- ing, but mainly looking in silence at the flames fast lick- ing up the fallen fragments of the old building. Some of the timbers, now turned to living coals, were still erect. Two chimneys had broken, but a third stood gauntly erect amid the flames and ruins. Against the side of the barn was two
ALONG THE VILLAGE STREFT.
ladders which had been tied together. There was little to do and the crowd simply gazed, half awed by this sud- den destruction, and the weird leaping of the flames and the ghostly smoke cloud, gemmed with sparks, rolling up into the overhanging blackness. The leaves of the trees were withered and browned and the apples were roasted on their exposed sides by the heat. Tree trunks were scorched, the bark crisped and turned to ash, looking as if a light snow had fallen :on trunk and twigs. Mrs. Davis was
The crowd at the hotel was pretty wellthin- ned out. One or two of the men were smoking. A couple of pigs were running about, somewhat alarmed, but still able to root
A VIEW FROM THE FIELDS,
82
PICTURESQUE HAMPSHIRE.
THE OLD HOCKANUM TAVERN.
and eat. Some of the young fellows sampled the roasted apples and finding them good ate several. Next some green corn and tomatoes were procured and put to roast over the coals. While these were cooking they pushed over the chimneys. Lastly, two of the boys found an empty beer keg, filled it half full at the river and lugged it back. The others caught sight of them and there was a chase, which ended in a capture. The keg was dropped and the fluid began to spout from the bung-hole. "Here, stop, save it," was the cry, and there was a grab- bing and holding of hats to save the pre- cious liquor. Then there was a tasting and a smelling at the bung-hole, follow- ed by general disgust. The moon eame
PROSPECT HOUSE-MT. HOLYOKE.
up over the mountain about midnight. It was in its last quarter and be- hind a light veil of misty eloud looked strange and mystic. And now the last lingerer plodded homeward.
Quite a crowd of people came to view the ruins during the next day. The flames had made a pretty clean sweep. Here lay a few black- ened timbers, heaps of brick and plaster, a stove broken and overturned, the remains of the piano amid the ashes in the cellar hole, and the half melted fragments of a lot of bottles. CLIFTON JOHNSON.
A LAST LOOK OVER THE VALLEY.
A fitting title it is, chosen for the last illustration of the towns in "Picturesque Hampshire." Will any one now deny that we have gazed upon the " counterfeit presentment " of the fairest shire in the old Bay State ? Berkshire has been praised by the writers of all time, but she has no such diversity of scenery as Hampshire. Her mountains are grand, but she has not the Connectient river and the broad expanse of meadow that Hampshire has, while from our own Mt. Holyoke one looks upon the finest cultivated view in all'New England. Taken altogether, the readers of "Picturesque" have been privileged with a rare treat and those who live in Hampshire are to be envied the beauty of their
IN VACATION.
A GROUP OF FARM BUILDINGS.
surroundings. With railroads running the whole length of her territory, as has Berkshire, Hampshire county would soon be her peer in interest among those seeking summer recreation, and this must soon be, as stage-drivers to the hill towns already report increasing patronage, which will, we predict, be beyond their means to meet comfortably.
It is with more than ordinary pleasure that we recommend to the readers of "Picturesque Hampshire" so valuable an aid to their future explorations as Kneeland's "Drives in Northampton and Vicinity" may be. Mr. Kneeland is an ardent lover of his native county and feels with us that the inhabitant of this shire know as yet comparatively nothing of the natural beauty of the country right at their own doors. An advertisement of the book will be found elsewhere.
A LAST LOOK OVER THE VALLEY, FROM MT. HOLYOKE.
MANUFACTURING
INDUSTRIAL
Stiften johnson
INTERESTS of the COUNTY.
THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF MANUFACTURES.
This department is born of the exigencies of the work. It was necessary, in order to prevent a heavy pecuniary loss from this enterprise, to enlist the co-operation of our good friends the manufacturers. They are, as a rule, public-spirited, progressive men, and appreciate the fact that whatever makes the country they live in more prosperous and attractive and interesting to hu- manity at large, makes the general public burden lighter and their operatives happier and more contented.
It is not our fault that every manufacturer in Hamp- shire county is not represented in the following pages. Numberless advertising schemes of the simplest sort have gulled all of them at one time or another, and some of them, who had no comprehen- sion of what we were trying to do, have persisted in punishing the publishers of "Picturesque Hamp- shire" by withholding their sanc- tion to this enterprise, but those sagacious men who "know a good thing when they see it," and are represented in succeeding pages, will, we are confident, not be sorry they are with us. We thank them for their co-operation, without which our book would not be a saccess, and hope they will share with us the satisfaction we feel.
The above heading is simply symbolic of manufactures and in- dustry in general-the silk-worms at work typical of industry and the mill buildings aiding the design.
Now it should be noted that the project of giving individual por_ traits of manufacturers, in some of the ensuing pages, is wholly an editorial idea, and is done entirely withont expense to the subjects of the portraits, and of course only where they permitted us to take the liberty. Thus the distinction is unsought by them.
We have chosen as the subject for illustration tion on this page a picture of the old Carew paper-mill, as it stood on the banks of the South Hadley Falls canal in 1848, with the peculiar costumes of the men and women of that time showing in the foreground. The opening of this canal was really the genesis of paper manufacturing in this county, and excepting perhaps the woolen mills at Northampton, is the oldest manu- facturing enterprise of importance in the county.
So much by way of introduction. Now let us con sider the rise and progress of manufactures in the county.
The great development of manufacturing interests in Hampshire county may, perhaps, be limited to the las fifty years. Under the colonial system manufactures
of all descriptions were discouraged by the mother country. Indeed, all the impediments which ingenuity could suggest, were thrown in the way of the people, avowedly to prevent them from engaging in diversified industrial pursuits, and confine them, as far as possible, to that of agriculture, The consequence was that those who had not the means to purchase imported goods- those of British manufacture-were dependent upon their own resources, or those of their neighbors, for the thousand things that constitute the necessities of life. For nearly forty years after the attainment of independence, it is quite certain that most of the fam ilies in this county were self-sustaining; that is, upon
THE ORIGINAL CAREW PAPER MILL AT SOUTH HADLEY FALLS.
their farms and in their homes they produced most of the articles they used or consumed. Of food they usually had an abundance. It is true that their flour was not made after Pillsbury's new process, but it was nutritious and wholesome, and when compounded in varying quantities of wheat, rye and corn, their bread was palatable, and made strong and robust men and women.
The garments with which the people were clothed, were almost invariably of domestic manufacture. They were produced upon the farm. Wool was obtained from the sheep that grazed in the pastures. It was deftly corded into rolls by the industrious wife and mother and her daughters; then it was spun upon the spinning wheel, of which useful implements every
family possessed one or more. It was then woven into cloth in the family loom; then sent to the fulling mill, where it underwent the process of thickening and compacting ; and finally it was dyed and dressed. From the cloth thus prepared, commonly called home- spun, the garments of the family were made for use in winter. It was the cloth that formed the coats of the minister, the deacon, and the squire, in the rural towns as well as those of the farmers and their sons, the only difference being that the cloth which covered the backs of the minister and the squire, was made from the finest wool. This domestic flannel, colored or un- colored, dressed or undressed, was made into sheets, shirts, trowsers and coats for the men and boys, and dresses for the girls.
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