USA > Massachusetts > Essex County > Newbury > Reminiscences of a nonagenarian > Part 10
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come arter, this time. She hoped it would l'arn the young folks sense,- show 'em taint all gold that glittered."
CHAPTER XIX.
Turnpikes were superseding the common roads on the more important routes of travel, and one was projected between Newburyport and Boston. A company was formed, the shares sold and the work commenced. The con- struction of this road caused consider- ble excitement in the community. Most were enthusiastic in its favor, while others thought the additional con- venience insufficient to repay such an outlay. As several of our family were stockholders, and David Emery assisted on the survey, we were especially in- terested. David often passed the Sab- bath at his grandfather Little's, and he usually dropped in to talk over the work with father. He disapproved of the plan of the road-thought it would have been better to have built it to Sa- lem, to connect with that from Salem to Boston. Then he did not favor an exactly straight thoroughfare if it must be carried over wide morasses and such lofty eminences as the Topsfield hills. Though then a mere youth, I think the verdict of posterity would endorse the young man's ideas. Through the un- counted multitude of obstacles that usually arise to impede a public work, the road was steadily pushed with re- markable energy. Huge hotels and spacious stables were erected at points convenient for relays, and every then modern improvement made for the ac- commodation of travel. At the time
of my first visit to town only one stage plied on alternate days between New- buryport and the capital-going one morning and returning the next after- noon. I well remember my first sight of a stage and the delight with which I gazed at the huge leathern convey- ance, with its gaudily emblazoned yel- low body and the four prancing white steeds. Soon after relays were estab- lished and the stage went out and re- turned each day. As the travel in- creased teams were added and the Eastern Stage Company was formed.
On account of ill health, Col. Stephen Bartlett had severed his connection with the firm of Peabody & Waterman. Confirmed consumption had been feared but after a winter passed in Charleston, S. C., Col. Bartlett returned with in- creased vigor. Active occupation was recommended. The stage company were seeking an agent. The position was offered to Mr. Bartlett, and he im- mediately entered upon its duties. This appointment was eminently appropriate, and the gentleman remained in the em- ploy of the company until obliged to surrender to the ravages of the fell dis- ease which at last claimed him as its victim. One afternoon, the summer I was sixteen, I rode into town and had just entered aunt Bartlett's parlor when uncle Bartlett drove to the door, on the box of a hack in which were seated my aunt Peabody and cousin Sophronia. Reining up his pair of spanking bays before the open window, he greet- ed me : " I am glad to see you, Sally. Put on your bonnet and tell your aunt to don hers, and I will give you a ride with Mrs. Peabody and Fronie. The turnpike is graded to the third mile- stone, and I intend that you shall have the honor of being the first ladies to
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pass over it." Of course I was high- ly delighted. We were soon seated. My aunts and cousin were in high spirits, and altogether it was a very merry time. There was a little stir of enthusiasm amid the group lingering about the steps of the "Wolfe Tavern," and we received many polite greetings as we drove forward. It was rather soft wheeling over the freshly-strewn gravel, but that did not signify ; our horses were young and strong, their load light, and we dashed forward in fine style. The third milestone soon appeared. After a slight pause to look around, we retraced our steps and alighted at aunt Bartlett's, proud of the achievement of being able to boast that we were the first ladies to ride over the Newburyport and Boston turnpike.
The next year I had another ride with my uncle. The Plum Island bridge and turnpike had been built the previous summer. I was making my annual winter visit in town. That day I had dined at my uncle Peabody's, and we were rising from the table, when uncle Bartlett drove to the door in a double sleigh, to which was attached a splendid span of white horses. He was accompanied by Capt. Stoodley, a brother of Mrs. William Bartlett, jr., of / Portsmouth, N. H. Throwing him the reins, uncle Bartlett ran in, exclaiming : "Come, girls ; I have a pair of horses that I wish to prove, and I will give you a ride. Wrap up well, for it is a snapping cold day." Aunt Peabody told us to hasten. "Put on all your furs," she added, as she filled a stove for our feet. We were quickly en- sconced on the back seat, well wrapped in buffaloes. Uncle Bartlett turned his horses toward Plum Island. There was not much path, but the powerful steeds
dashed lightly along. We had pro- ceeded to the entrance to the bridge. when our further progress was stopped by a huge snow drift. With some diffi- culty our experienced whip turned his team. Proceeding in the direction of "High street" we soon reached that well-trodden thoroughfare. Though much more sparsely built than now, it was a handsome avenue and a pleasant drive.
In my childhood Frog pond was the center of a tangled wilderness of alder and other bushes, and at the upper end there was a frightful ravine. Near this gully stood the gun house, where the cannon belonging to the artillery com- pany was kept. Back on the heights stood an ancient windmill. Below, near the margin of the pond, stretched a long rope walk. This was removed to give place for the commencement of the turnpike. Back of the pond was lo- cated quite an extensive pottery for the manufacture of brown glazed earthern ware. In the year commencing the present century the streets of the town received much improvement, and in the summer of that year the gulley at the head of Green street was filled up, and the mall was laid out, graded and railed. Capt. Edmund Bartlett gave fourteen hundred dollars towards this public im- provement, which cost about eighteen hundred. In honor of this munificence, the park received the name of "Bartlett Mall."
In the summer of 1805 the Court house was erected. The building was ornamented by the figure of Justice holding a scale and sword, which sur- mounted the pedestal. St. Paul's Church was built that same year, and within a short period several handsome private residences had also been erect-
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ed, adding much to the beauty of the street. Dexter had increased his im- ages ; his plan was in full glory ; Sen- tinals mounted guard. Jefferson had joined Washington and Adams over the front entrance. Beneath the Presi- dents was a bass-relief of the Goddess of Liberty. An half hour's ride brought us to Parsons' tavern on Deer island, at the Essex Merrimac bridge. This was a noted place for pleasure parties. A delightful spot in summer, and a noted rendezvous for sleighing parties in winter, when a supper and dance were enjoyed. At the first snow a rush was made for Parsons', where the first comer was treated to a bottle of wine by mine host. Though our horses had skimmed over the snow like birds, the day was so intensely cold we were fairly benumbed, and the bright wood fire was exceedingly grateful. Capt. Stdooley, according to the custom of the period, politely brought my. cousin and myself a glass of wine. Warmed and refreshed we retraced our steps, fully . satisfied with the steed, which Col. Bartlett immediately secur- ed for the " Stage Company."
Two other memorable rides fell to my destiny that year. Toward spring father's ox-cart needed new tires. Much to his surprise none could be found in Newburyport. Some one di- rected him to the store of old Mr. Da- vid Howe, in Haverhill, where it was said " every merchantable article could be bought." As aunt Chase resided in Haverhill, father invited me to ride with him. It was a raw March morn- ing and the sleighing poor. Making our way partly in the fields and pas- tures, partly in the road, we reached "Cottle's Ferry ;" there we took the river. The ice was strong but full of
scams made by cracks which had been frozen. Our horse, a spirited mare, feared danger, and as she reached one of these seams, with a leap would bound over it, then proceed at a two- forty-pace to the next; then came an- other bound, and in this way the jour- ney was made.
My aunt resided in a large, old-fash- ioned brick mansion, picturesquely sit- uated on the right bank of the Merri- mac, about half a mile below Haver- hill village. The road separated it from the river, and in front a landing led directly to the house. Leaving me at the door father drove to the village, where he procured iron which he lashed under the sleigh. Having dined at Mrs. Chase's we started for home. The rattling of the iron started Kate still more, and the race was greater than in the morning. I never was more thankful than when the Ferry was again reached, and we were once more on terra firma.
My other race was in the autumn. It was customary for the young ladies of the neighborhood to give social tea parties of an afternoon, at which we assembled at an early hour, dressed in our best, with our go-abroad knitting work, usually fine cotton, clocked hose. Some of these clocks comprised the most elaborate patterns. After tea the knitting was laid aside. As the evening drew on the beaux began to appear, then games, or dancing, were enjoyed. At this period the fear of Parson Wood's anathema had in a measure passed and dancing had been generally resumed. We were permit- ted to indulge in the recreation at my uncle Tenney's when the deacon was from home.
Mr. Benjamin Hill's sou, Eliphalet,
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had become affianced to Miss Sarah Coffin, of "Scotland," Oldtown parish. The young lady had come to pay Mr. Hill's family a visit, and the Misses Hills gave one of these tea-parties in her honor. Mr. Hill's residence was two miles from ours, and father direct- ed me to go in the chaise. "Liph. Hills will take care of your horse, Sal- lie, and you can take up the deacon's girls as you go," said he, as he went out, after dinner. We had recently purchased a new "fall back chaise ;" our old one had been a square-topped. I was somewhat proud of the new equipage, and of my spirited mare. Trained from infancy to ride and drive, I was a fearless horsewoman. Jim harnessed Kate, and I drove over to uncle Teuney's, where I was joined by my cousins Joan and Lydia. The' af- ternoon and evening were passed most pleasantly. I recollect leading down a new contra figure with my second cous- in, Billy Noyes, who was a capital dancer-we two usually headed the set. Fun and frolic ruled the hour till after nine o'clock, when my horse was brought to the door. There were other vehicles, and gentlemen's and ladies' saddle horses, awaiting. My cousins and I sprang into our chaise and I drove forward. We had reached the summit of Plummer's hill when Kate began to prick up her ears and, with a sniff, to gather in her paces. The clat- ter of approaching hoofs struck my ear, and, before I could realize the sit- uation, William Thurrell and my cousin William Smith rushed past on horse- back, the horses going at the top of their speed. One took the right, the other the left of my chaise. As they swept past, Kate gave a snort and, springing forward, joined in the race.
Down we went, at a break-neck speed, down the steep declivity, the loose stones of the rough road flying in every direction. As the horse was beyond my control, all I could do was to hold the reins as tightly as possible, but, as they were new, I felt secure. On we dashed, through "Tea street." It was impossible for me to turn to take my cousins home, nor could I stop until the schoolhouse was reached. Here my companions were able to alight, but were obliged to walk back about half a mile, while I proceeded up Crane-neck hill at a more leisurely pace. The young men were somewhat frightened at the escapade, but, upon the whole, enjoyed it vastly, declaring, much to my vexation, that "little Sally Smith can beat the best jockey in the whole country around."
CHAPTER XX.
In contradistinction to the church from which they had separated, our forefathers had established a severe simplicity in public worship, which, as the country grew older, and society in- creased in liberality and culture, became distasteful to the more youthful portion of the population. Deaconing hymns had become nearly obsolete, and musi- cal instruments began to appear in the singing seats.
Though severe and strict in theologi- cal dogmas, Parson Woods was, upon the whole, a progressive man. Through his influence our choir had greatly im- proved in singing, and when it was pro- posed to have a viol accompaniment, he made no objection. Accordingly, one
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fine summer morning, Mr. Ben. Brown. with an important air, marched up the gallery stairs, bearing his bass-viol in his hand. There was a sensational stir throughout the singing seats. Mr. Ed- mund Little tiptoed to and fro. There were nods and whispers, shuffling of the leaves of singing books ; then came the preliminary screams, screeches, grunts, growls, sees and saws from the viol. While this was proceeding, the faces of the congregation were a study worthy of a Hogarth. Amazement sub- sided into curiosity ; the younger por- tion sat in smiling expectancy, while their elders glanced at one another, dis- approval written in every wrinkle of their sour visages, and the children gazed with wide open eyes and open- mouthed astonishment. At the first in- timation of the idea of having this in- strumental accompaniment, aunt Judy Dole had entered her vehement protest against it. She and her sisters occu- pied seats upon the women's bench in the gallery. At the first sight of Mr. Brown, the old lady's face grew rigid ; stern determination and severe disap- proval became legible in every line. Parson Woods and his family came in, and the usual masculine rush followed ; the last loiterer had become seated and the last pew door had been slammed. Parson Woods, as was customary, opened the service with a short prayer ; then the hymn was named and read, and the choir arose, in rustling impor- tance. Mr. Brown, with the air of an emperor, drew his bow across the strings. At the first sound, up jumped aunt Judy, and, with indignant opposi- tion in every creak of the high-heeled channeled pumps, she firmly strode through the gallery and down the stairs, then, passing out at the front door,
seated herself on the horse-block, re- maining there during the service. At its close she rode home with the rest of the family, but it was a long time ere the prim maiden became sufficiently reconciled to the new fashion to appear in her wonted place on the Sabbath.
The second year of her widowhood. aunt Hannah Stickney married Mr. Samuel Noyes, of the " Farms," New- bury. This gentlemen, a descendant of John, oldest son of Nicholas Noyes, a widower with four children, was a cousin of her first husband. Many wondered that so young a women as aunt Hannah should feel willing to as- sume the responsibility of rearing and training so many small children. Though the young widow had returned to her father's house, she could not make it the girlish home which she had left with a heart so full of buoyant hope. Mr. Noyes had been most kind in his minis- trations during Mr. Stickney's illness, upbearing the fainting souls of the sick man and his family, by his firm faith, and devotional spirit. Through every trial he had been a true comforter to Mrs. Stickney, thereby winning her gratitude and affectionate interest. This good man needed a wife, his children needed a mother, she could supply this need. Cheerfully and lovingly her life's work was assumed. How well this task was performed, the reverent respect and love of her family attested. To no one could more properly be applied the scrip- ture text, "Her children rise up and call her blessed ; her husband also, and he praiseth her." . The second nuptials were strictly private, the ceremony be- ing performed at the residence of the Rev. Dr. Parish, in Byfield. The little, black doctor, greatly diverted one of his favorite parishioners, Mrs. Moses
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Colman, by the information that the day previous he had married the hand- somest woman he ever saw, to Mr. Sam Noyes. "Such black eyes, Mrs. Col- man, such a complexion, and such a sweet yet sparkling expression. Oh, she is a beauty, Mrs. Colman ! I have thought you as handsome as any woman I ever saw, but this one is handsomer ; yes," musingly added the divine, as he leaned back in his chair and critically examined his companion's face through half closed eyes, "yes, Mrs. Colman, I must decide that of the two she is the handsomest."
Much amused, Mrs Colman inquired the beauty's name.
"Hannah Stickney; her maiden name was Little."
"Why Doctor, she is my own cous- in," the lady replied with surprise.
"Well, you may be proud of your cousin, Mrs. Colman, and I must say your family may be proud of them- selves. Such a splendid set of black- eyed queens ! Why they are positively regal ! Yes, yes, positively regal !" This was too good to be kept private, and the black-eyed queens were duly informed of the distinguished doctor's tribute to their lovliness.
The prostration of grief at length passed, and aunt Adams began to take her wonted interest in the cares and duties of life. As the house was in- convenient for two families, the second year of her widowhood Mrs. Adams took the farm into her own manage- ment. Mr. Adams had built a shoe- maker's shop when he first took posses- sion of the premises. This was hired by two or three young men, former ap- prentices of uncle Bill Little. Having come of age, they commenced business for themselves, boarding with aunt
Adams, Nabby Smith still being re- tained as an assistant.
As soon as aunt Hannah had become established in her new home, aunt Adams and myself were invited to pay her a visit. Accordingly, one warm August morning, we set out. We took aunt Adams' chaise and our horse. We had passed the factory and were approaching the "Fatherland Farm,". when the pin broke and the right wheel dropped. Luckily, the horse stopped instantly. and I sprang out and held her head while aunt Adams could alight. What next was to be done? Looking around, I espied Mr. Gorham Parsons and some workmen in an adja- cent field. I started to gain their as- sistance, but Mr. Parsons, perceiving our dilemma, came forward to meet me. accompanied by one of the men, who proved to be Joe Gould, who was often employed at our farm. Gould took the chaise to Mr. Moses Dole's blacksmith shop, which was a short distance be- yond, and Mr. Parsons escorted aunt Adams and myself to the house, which was now finished and furnished in great elegance, being the most imposing man- sion in the vicinity ; with its well-or- dered stables and other appointments. forming an establishment of which the proprietor might well be proud. The housekeeper, Mrs. Plummer, was called, and we were shown into a parlor. A bell rang above stairs, succeeded by much running to and fro. Next a ne- gro page flung wide the door, and, with a profound obeisance, ushered in Mr. Parsons, supporting on his arm a stout, florid-complexioned woman, habited in a white dimity wrapper, her head adorned by a crape turban. surmounting a frisette of light curls ; her gouty feet, encased in velvet slippers, were still
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further assisted by a gold-headed cane. This lady, Madame Eben Parsons, Mr. Gorham Parsons' mother, was followed by Mrs. Plummer, bearing a fan and scent-bottle, while the rear of the pro- cession was brought up by a young waiting maid, loaded with a footstool, shawl and cushions.
The ceremony of introduction over, after much fixing and fussing, chang- ing from one window to another, ar- ranging and rearranging of footstool and cushions, Madame Parsons at length became seated and at leisure to turn her attention to her visitors. She expressed delight on learning that we were relatives of her friend Mrs. Moses Colman, of whom she spoke in the highest terms. Her sons also received the meed of praise. As they often went on business between the " Fath- erland Farm " and Mr. Parsons's es- tate in Brighton, the lady had made their acquaintance.
I well remembered David Emery's first visit to Boston, then a lad of twelve,-a most remarkable event it then seemed to me, a ten year old girl. How eagerly I listened to every minu- tæ of the tour which was made in com- pany with his elder brother, Jeremiah Colman. They took two pigs of the famous "Byfield" breed from the " Fatherland Farm " to Brighton, in a spring cart, drawn by a favorite family mare named Dorcas. The journey was made in one day, and they returned on the next. The night was passed at the residence of Mr. Eben Parsons in Boston. This was an ancient structure on Summer street. A flight of steps led directly from the sidewalk to the front door which opened into a square hall that was used as a parlor ; in the rear, stood a large stable, and in front
stretched a common upon which Mr. Parsons's two cows were pastured.
Cake and wine served we were invit- ed into the garden, which lying on a gentle declivity was laid out in terra- ces, the walks bordered by trim hedges of box. There was a variety of choice flowers and fruit. Having been regaled with fine specimens of early pears and each presented with a magnificent bou- quet ; as our chaise had arrived, neatly repaired, we made our adieus amid mu- tual compliments and hopes of contin- uing our acquaintance thus accidentally formed. A few moments' ride brought us to " Dummer Academy,"-the Gov. Dummer Mansion House, the same fine specimen of colonial architecture it is to-day. The Academy was the old building, a gambrel-roofed, one-story structure with a low, dome-capped belfry facing the highway. This, the " Alma Mater " of David Emery, the Colman boys and other youthful friends, was to me a spot of much in- terest.
Crossing the bridge over the river Parker we soon found ourselves in the precincts of the "Farms." As Aunt Adams wished to call upon relatives of her late husband, we stopped at the residence of Mr. Israel and the widow Liffe Adams. We found Mr. and Mrs. Israel Adams seated either side of the wide fire-place, in which smouldered a few embers. Their daughter Polly was knitting by the window. She expressed great pleasure at seeing us, and as she had been a favorite schoolmate of Da- vid Emery's, and I had often heard him speak of her, I was happy to make the acquaintance of the belle and heiress of the neighborhood. Mrs. Liffe Adams and her daughter Eunice were weaving in a shop contiguous. Polly having
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summoned them to the house, a great rejoicing ensued. They were delighted to see their nephew's widow, and I was warmly welcomed. They all spoke with the greatest satisfaction of Mr. Noyes' good fortune in securing Aunt Hannah for a wife. After a pleasant call we took leave with a promise to take tea with them on the next after- noon. A few moments brought us to the Noyes homestead, a large, square house, surrounded by barns and other farm buildings. Maj. Noyes occupied the lower, and his son the upper half. I knocked at the front door, but as no one came I stepped into the hall; as my knock was evidently unheard, I made my way through a back room to the long kitchen and there I found the senior Mrs. Noyes. The old lady was washing the large hearth, exhibiting in the process an excess of neatness, which I never saw either before or since. She had gathered the remnants of the morning fire on a shovel and was wash- ing every brick. I quite startled the good woman, but upon her learning who I was, and that Aunt Adams was wait- ing outside, she expressed much joy at our coming, and despatched the maid servant for Aunt Hannah, who was in the garden. My aunt came with all speed. As we were the first members of her family that she had seen since her marriage, her greeting was very cordial. The male members of her family were in the meadows, the chil- dren at school; as the school-house was at some distance they dined at their uncle Nat Moody's, whose residence was near to it, consequently we had a nice, easy time, all to ourselves. In the afternoon, Grandmam' Noyes and Miss Becky, a single daughter, joined us in Aunt Hannah's room. Between
five and six the children came home, a nice girl of ten, quite a little "help " to her step-mother, and two bright boys, whose affections she had evident- ly won. At dusk the " men folks " ar- rived. The two gentlemen expressed great pleasure at meeting us. The ma- jor, a gallant man of the old school, like his son and the Rev Dr. Parish, was a great admirer of black eyes. He was pleased to be exceedingly compli- mentary, I saw that Aunt Hannah was a favorite with the old gentleman, as she evidently had become with the whole family. After tea, as it was a bright moonlight evening, we walked out to the family burial place, which was situated on a slight eminence in a pleasant grove back of the house.
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