USA > Massachusetts > Essex County > Newbury > Reminiscences of a nonagenarian > Part 12
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One cold winter morning, David and his chum Nate Perley were on their way to the old school-house at the corners, when they descried Tuggie advancing over the half-trodden path, the hood of her gray lambskin cloak drawn around her face, and a bunch of woolen yarn in her hand.
" There's the witch," Nate exclaimed, lamenting the lack of a sixpence to place in the path to stop her farther progress.
His companion expressed his credul- ity respecting such an effect, but never- theless drew a sixpence from his pock- et, which he adroitly dropped immedi-
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ately before the old woman ; she passed on directly over it with a curtsy and good day, and David again pocketed his coin, firm in the faith of Tuggie's innocence of any diabolical influence, with a full determination, never to be- lieve in any witch, save the witch of Endor.
When I was six or seven years old, a young man in the neighborhood be- came insane. For a time he was a complete maniac, necessitating confine- ment, and a watchful attendance. Dis- ease of the brain was not generally un- derstood ; if one became a victim of ab- erration of intellect, it was universally declared that they were bewitched, and the various charms, most supremely ridiculous, thien in vogue, were imme- diately exercised to dispel the foul fiend. Young Edward Hills, having as it was declared fallen under the in- fluence of the "evil eye," great were the efforts to discover the author of the spell by which he was bound. Suspic- ion pointed to two or three old women in that and the next parish, over whom a secret but strict surveilliance was instituted, while every test known in the annals of witch lore was put in requisition for the relief of the sup- posed bewitched youth.
The person held in the greatest dis- trust was a worthy hard working woman, residing a short distance from Mr. Hill's. Why or how she should have attained to the dubious honor of being considered an equestrienne of the broomstick I never could conceive, unless it was from a shrewd, far- sighted intellect, and a fearless and forcible expression of her convictions, a keen wit, and a somewhat sharp tongue, that usually, to use a familiar phrase, " hit the nail on the head."
Aunt Ruth Little believed in witches as religiously as she did in her bible - the least doubt was considered rank heresy. The supposed witch was em- ployed by the families in the vicinity both . in spinning and weaving, and upon learning Edward Hill's situation Mrs. Little commenced a strict scrutiny over her neighbor. One evening that spring a young heifer unused to the process of milking became a little frac- tious and kicked over the milk pail. Aunt Ruth instantly declared her be- witched, and rushing to the barn armed with her sharp shears, she clipt a few hairs from the animal's tail, which were flung upon the fire. A fortnight after the supposed witch came in with her hand bandaged, she had burned it a few nights previous with the warming- pan. The expression of horror that stole over aunt Ruth's face at this announcement would have established the reputation of a tragic actress. "Sartinly she had had her suspicions, but r'aly they had never amounted to conviction till then ; to think that by burning the hair from the heifer's tail the hussy should get her hand scorched by the warming-pan !"
In vain both her husband, the hired man and David Emery, all declared that the incident respecting the heifer took place more than a week prior to the accident by the warming-pan, aunt Ruth was not to be silenced. "She knew black from white, and when her convictions were settled they were set- tled."
After a time Mr. Hill became per- fectly sane. By trade a joiner, he married and settled on the . family homestead ; years after, a few years prior to my marriage, he was again at- tacked by insanity. For a time he
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was extremely violent, so much so that he was chained to the floor of the parlor, which had been denuded of the furniture and the windows boarded to the upper panes. Though this sys- tem was rather calculated to enhance than repel the malady, after a time the disease assumed a milder type, and the maniac again took his place in the household, but to the end of a long life, his brain continued clouded. For months he would remain indoors, quiet and silent, then suddenly become the impersonation of activity, brimming over with a crazed wit, that was as humorous as it usually was harmless. At this second period of insanity, the world had sufficiently advanced in knowledge to place the affliction in the appropriate category ; only a few, like aunt Ruth, still adhered to the witch doctrine, but the old ideas were held with such tenacity that Parson Woods was called to exorcise the foul fiend, and one watcher was nearly frightened out of his wits at the family cat, sup- posing her to be some witch's familiar.
As the spring advanced, the young men in the vicinity volunteered to do the ploughing and planting for Mr. Hill. I often went to the Byfield factory on business, and Mrs. Hill told my brother James that she was desirous that I should execute a commission for her the next time I rode thither. Ac- cordingly, one pleasant evening, I went in to receive her orders. Mrs. Hill was milking, the children were with her. Mr. Hill sat before a light fire which was smouldering in the kitchen fire- place. Seeing that he was alone, I hesitated on the threshold ; looking up, the lunatic with a pleased expression bade me enter and be seated. "His old woman would be in directly."
Squinting up one eye, with a wise shake of the head, he added, " I know what she wants of you, Sallie. She thinks, wonderful woman, that it is a profound secret, but she has sent for you to buy the cloth at the factory for me a pair of breeches, and she has the money laid by to pay for it. Draw up your chair, Sallie, you are not afraid of me. I sha'n't scare you as I did that New Hampshire chap that boarded at Deacon Tenney's last winter. I saw he was scared the moment he came in, and I determined to have a bit of fun. Didn't I kick up a ringtum? The big lout was e'en jest frightened out of his senses ; he daresn't stay in the room, but every two minutes he would open the door a crack, and squeak out, 'won't you have a leetle caffee, Mr. Hill-won't you have a leetle caffee ?'. I got so out of patience, I told him to hold his in- fernal tongue or I would 'caffee' him with a vengeance ! I silenced him, but the darned fool took our old Suke for a witch, declared a strange cat flew in- to my room through the key hole, when it was only our old cat who pushed in beside him, while he was holding the door and bawling 'caffec.' They say I was bewitched, Sallie. It was sport to make folks think so. Wasn't it fun to make folks' eyes stick out? Aunt Ruth thought she knew. Oh yes, she is the elect lady ! She knows ; so they sent for Parson Woods. I told him he had such an acquaintance with his Satanic Majesty, his services would have been especially efficacious if need- ed, but I scarcely thought he would find any divil to exorcise. If he could he was at liberty to pitch him into my pig-sty." Giving me another of his peculiarly knowing squints, he contin- ued, "Between you and I, I think the
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Lord was rather hard upon that Gada- rene. He must have taken him out of a good round sum. I have been calcu- lating," he added, pointing to some chalk marks by the fire-place, " but as the account only states the number, and not the value per head, I am una- ble to ascertain the loss. The fact was, Sallie, the Parson came too late, 'and so I informed him. I told him the witches were dead. I saw them one moonlight night piping and dancing up " Crane-neck road." Old women on broomsticks, and young gals kicking up their heels, old Nick ahead leading the way. Fust they stopped at yer uncle Enoch Little's, but he swore so fast, the Divil gin in, and the gang trooped into uncle John's. Mr. Little was sitting afore the fire toasting fust the palms then the backs of his hands. He looked 'round, held out one hand, then the other, and said, 'yes, yes- yes, yes,' so old Nick struck up again, and on they squirled to your house. Mr. Sam. Smith was down from Ver- mont, singing Methody hymns so loud they turned over to uncle Thurrel's.
The old man driving up old ' White' in the cider mill, too much hurried to salute his fust cousin, he hollered, ' Terap, Terap,' so lustily, the whole batch scampered off hilter skilter down 'South End,' across 'Crane meadow,' and before they could fetch up, they rushed headlong into 'Crane pond,' and that was the end of the witches."
With this anuouncement Mr. Hill gravely surveyed the opposite wall in silence, and I indulged in the merri- ment his apt description of the pecul- iar traits of the individuals visited by the witches had exacted. Suddenly my companion started from his reverie, and exclaiming that his boot hurt him,
drew it from his right foot ; having al- so removed his stockings, part of an- other stocking foot was disclosed ; tak- ing this off, he held up his foot, the toes covered by the thumb and fingers of buckskin glove, and asked, "if I should think that would feel com- fortable ?"
Answering in the negative, I in- quired why he had thus bundled up his toes? Vouchsafing no reply, he slow- ly and sedately drew off first the thumb and next the fingers, flinging them into the fire with a muttered invocation as each fell upon the coals, and as the last curled upon the embers, he quickly turned, and with a most quizzical look said ; "David would get credit in a steeple chase, 'tisn't every one that could leap the wall as he did last win- ter, but he broke his shaft."
I made no answer, and pretended not to understand.
"You needn't make believe you don't comprehend what I mean. You know last winter when Tea street was blocked up and the path led through my field, David Emery mistook and took a flying leap over the wall above the house instead of going below through the bars. He thought no one knew it. If the windows were boarded up I heard him. He broke his shaft I know. I wanted to go out to help him, but they said no one was there. I was bewitched. There was a line in the sleigh box to tie up the shaft. David tied it together ; then I heard the bells as he drove up the hill. David says old Mitchell has taught him to always go armed and equipped. That is a grand horse, and David is a good horseman ; not one in a thousand could have cleared that wall as he did. Oh, David's a trump ! But you do not
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know of whom I am speaking! You know nothing of the gentleman nor his proceedings !" and with a prolonged laugh and most emphatic grimaces the lunatic pulled on his stocking and boot. Mrs. Hill came in as she gave me her commission. I repeated what her hus- band had told me. She expressed great surprise, and said he must have guessed her intentions, as she had never mentioned them. HIis intuition and cunning were remarkable ; she some- times thought that she must join with aunt Ruth and pronounce him be- witched.
CHAPTER XXIV.
That spring David Emery made his first and last sea voyage. Though this short trip comprised the whole of his sca faring life, it brought that which many a veteran sailor who has circumnavigated the globe has failed to experience - the horrors of. a ship- wreck.
Business suddenly summoned the young man to Eastport, District of Maine. He expected to be absent a month. In about three weeks I received a letter.' It had been long on the road, as in those unsettled regions the mail was chiefly transported in sad- dle bags by a carrier on horseback. David wrote that we might expect him by the middle of June. Friday, the sixteenth of June, dawned overcast and sultry ; scarcely a leaf stirred through the day, and the night came on murky and oppressive. About mid- night I was awakened by the wind, a gust struck with great force against the long, sloping, back roof. There was a
furious squall for a few moments ; while the rain came in a torrent, the wind slightly abated, but a severe north-east storm set in, which con- tinued until noon Saturday.
As we knew David must be near the coast, great anxiety was felt respect- ing him. Sunday passed without tidings, but Monday morning my brother Joseph learned at the grist mill in Byfield, that he had been cast away on Plum Island, and that his brother, Jeremiah Colman, brought him to his father's on Sunday. Mr. Perley, from whom the news was obtained, reported that no injury had been received to life or limb, "but he did wish we could have seen the figure David cut; his clothes, especially his hat, all filled with lint from the sails, was a sight to behold."
In the afternoon the young man drove over, looking none the worse for his disaster. After father had drawn a mug of his best cider, the traveller gave us a description of his adventures. Though the schooner in which he was forced to take passage was old and dirty, the trip to Eastport was both quick and pleasant ; his speculation succeeded, and he was most hospitably entertained by most agreeable people. Business called him to a new settle- ment up the St. Croix river. The only means of transportation was by a birch bark canoe, paddled by an Indian. The red-skin belonged to a tribe living above Eastport ; he hal come to the town to procure the wherewithal to cel- ebrate the nuptials of a daughter ; an addition to his purse was acceptable, and he readily agreed to take the young man up the river that day and down the next.
His directions as he seated his
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passenger in the bottom of the canoe were most strict and emphatic. "Sit straight, keep arms so, keep quiet, canoe go over just like dat," he said, snapping his fingers. "Me drown one white man, me never get no more white inan to paddle."
Knowing the nature of the frail bark Mr. Emery comforted himself with such discretion as to win the en- comiums of his companion, eliciting grunts of approbation.
The day wore on. Hour after hour they glided up the broad, beautiful stream, bordered by the primeval forest. The grave, taciturn Indian bending to his task, the silence of the still June day unbroken, save by the dip of the paddle, the note of a bird, or the far away cry of some wild animal in the distance.
Hungry and thirsty, weary from the cramped position, near sunset the young man joyfully descried a clearing upon the bank, a little wharf project- ing into the river, and a clump of buildings in the back ground.
Upon landing Mr. Emery learned that the gentleman he had come hither to seek was in Boston. A representa- tive from the "District of Maine," he had gone thither to attend the General Court, which at that time commenced its sittings at "Election," which was on the last Wednesday in May. Though the mistress of the mansion expressed regret that her husband could not have the pleasure of entertaining the guest, he received the assurance that she possessed full power to facilitate the errand which had brought him there. Upon Mr. Emery's expressing his fears that his boatman might be an annoy- ance, she bade him " have no concern, as she often entertained the Indians of
the vicinity ; had a back room and blankets for their especial accommoda- tion."
The row back to Eastport was made in safety. The Indian had taken a fancy to his passenger, and invited him to his daughter's wedding; press of business prevented the acceptance of this invitation, though it would have given the young man pleasure to have been present at such a novel enter- tainment. The Indian having made his purchases, a barrel of flour, one cwt. of pork, a keg of molasses, and two gallons of rum, took leave ; hav- ing been presented with a few trinkets for the bride, the gratified redskin un- der the influence of gratitude and us- quebaugh, affectionately hugged his " white brother," and with grunts of satisfaction seated himself amidst his possessions and slowly paddled home- ward.
Upon introduction to a young French priest, the cure of a Catholic mission up the river, Mr. Emery received an invitation to visit the station, which he did the next Sunday in company with a party of ladies and gentlemen. The church and mission house which stood in the midst of the Indian village, were heavy structures of rough stone, the surrounding huts were of slabs and boards, with garden patches showing rude attempt at cultivation. The church was well filled, many of the worshippers having come a long dis- tance through the forest. Several of the women had pappooses strapped on their shoulders in blankets. The men were tall and athletic, the elder women somewhat homely, but the younger ones rather good looking, some of the girls were decidedly pretty. Most of the women were gay with gew-gaws
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and feathers, their shapely feet showing ยท to great advantage in their elaborately ornamented deerskin moccasins. His companion of the canoe was the first to greet Mr. Emery. His delight at again seeing his "white brother " was warmly expressed, and he hastened to fetch the bride and bridegroom and the other members of his family. The young cure was evidently beloved and respected, his flock were quiet and de- vout through the service. The party were hospitably entertained by the priest, who in the afternoon, in defer- ence to his guests, preached a fine ser- mon in English-that in the morning had been delivered in French. This was Mr. Emery's introduction to that church which he had been taught to shun and abhor, but it gave a pleasing impression which ever after remained.
The second week in June the Lucy Ann set sail for Newburyport. The crew consisted of the skipper and three men ; there were two passengers beside Mr. Emery, a Mr. Little, an Irishman by birth, and at that time do- ing business in Boston, and a young man, belonging in Newburyport, by the name of Richardson. Off Boon Island the schooner was becalmed for several days and the passengers took the op- portunity to visit a farm-house there. The sixteenth the night closed in dark and foggy. Mr. Emery was awakened by the squall. Amid a terrible pitch- ing, snapping, creaking and flapping, the passengers made their way on deck. The rain poured like a flood, it was difficult to sustain a foothold, every- thing was flying in every direction. The deck load of wood and bark was pitching hither and thither, pieces of bark being hurled mast high. The squall subsided, but the storm came on
fierce and terrific. The skipper thought he was in the vicinity of Portsmouth, and every effort was made to clear the coast. Heavier grew the sea, stronger the blast. Sea after sea swept the deck, the roaring billows dashing to the mast head, raged around the frail craft, phosphorescent crested, one sheet of flame. At length, to everyone's re- lief, the day dawned, but still the mist and spray shut in the sight. Suddenly came the cry, "a sail ahead ; " the fog at that moment slightly cleared, and in affrighted tones, the captain ejaculated, " My God ! It is Newburyport lights."
He was an Eastern man, unacquaint- ed with the coast ; turning to his pas- senger, he demanded, " Emery, what am I to do?"
The young man remembering Hamp- ton rocks, replied, " Keep her off, run to the leeward, clear the bar if possi- ble."
The captain "inquired if he could make Cape Ann harbor." Mr. Emery thought not, and shortly a tremendous sea which carried away the main boom settled the question. The weather had begun to clear, Mr. Emery could dis- cern that they were nearly abreast of the Plum Island hotel, and he advised beaching the craft immediately. The helm was turned, she swung slowly 'round and headed for the shore. Those acquainted with the coast in a teriffic northeaster will appreciate the situa- tion .. On she went, thrown forward by the waves. A tremendous bump, then she swung back, but the next sea took her and with a second bump and bang, which carried the foremast and main- mast by the board, the Lucy Ann set- tled into the sand, her aqueous career forever ended.
The storm abated, towards noon the
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rain ceased, and preparations were made to get a line on shore. Mr. Clifford, the landlord of the hotel, had espied the schooner, and with his boy was on the beach ready to render assistance, but who was the one to breast that thunderous surf? The lot fell upon a stalwart sailor who had been caught stealing from the passen- gers. Stripped to his shirt and drawers, a rope secured around his waist, the stout fellow plunged into the swirl of waters, and, after a strenuous struggle, almost exhausted, he at length reached the land. The others prepared to follow. There was valu- able property in the cabin ; Mr. Little had several thousand dollars on board, the other passengers a considerable sum, all in specie. It was thought that the hull would hold together. Mr. Emery went below to cord his trunk more securely, there he found young Richardson tying up a hundred silver dollars in a bandanna pocket-handker- chief. Mr. Emery vainly tried to per- suade the foolish fellow to return the money to his box, but he persisted in taking it on deck, where the first wave burst the frail envelope and a hundred silver dollars were added to the treas- ures of the deep.
Mr. Little, not a swimmer, was fear- ful that he could not reach the shore by the line, but being duly encouraged a successful attempt was made, and the whole five reached terra firma without accident.
Refreshed and dried, as the weather had cleared and the tide turned, with the aid of Mr. Clifford's horse and cart the articles were taken from the schooner and brought safely to the hotel. Nothing was lost but Richard- son's silver. Mr. Clifford took the
skipper to town. , Mr. Little was so anxious that Mr. Emery should remain with him over night that the young man somewhat reluctantly consented. The merchant had made arrangements to go into business in Eastport, and he was solicitous to remove all traces of the disaster from his clothes and papers, in order that his wife should know nothing of it, as, if she did, he feared he never would be able to re- move her from Boston.
During David's absence, his brother, Jeremiah Colman, had been married to Miss Mary Chute, daughter of Deacon James Chute of Byfield. Mr. Colman had been established in the butchering business in Newburyport for some time, and the young couple had set up housekeeping in half of the Pearson house on Charter street. Learning what had befallen David, Jerry drove to the Island and insisted on taking him to his house, where Mrs. Colman received him with sisterly affection, and every effort was made for his re- freshment and comfort.
The hulk after lying some time in the sand was eventually broken up. The vessel had been insured at New- buryport, and at first some had de- murred respecting paying the insur- ance, but upon farther investigation it was promptly handed over.
CHAPTER XXV.
I have stated that Mr. Benjamin Colman purchased "Slade's meeting- house," and having moved it near his residence, which was in the vicinity of the Byfield parsonage, fitted the build-
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ing for a seminary. The prospectus of the Female Academy, Byfield, pub- lished in the "Newburyport Herald," enumerates "Grammar, Arithmetic, Geography, Rhetoric, Composition, Painting and needle-work," as the branches taught. It adds : "It is ex- pected that a gentleman of christian education will, generally, every day visit the Seminary, and if occasion require, lend assistance in teaching the higher branches of study, or give instruction on those topics which may promote the general object of female education." Miss Rebecca Hardy was the first teacher, Miss Re- becca Hazeltine succeeded as princi- pal, and her younger sister, Ann, after- ward Mrs. Judson, one of the first American missionaries to India, acted as assistant. A school of from forty to fifty pupils was gathered, young ladies from the wealthier families in the neighborhood and surrounding coun- try, with others from places more remote. The summer of which I am writing there were several from New Hampshire, and the interior towns of Massachusetts. Some of the older pupils were affianced to clergymen, and had placed themselves under Miss Hazeltine's instruction, the better to qualify themselves for the dignified and responsible position of a minister's wife. Amongst these was Miss Lucy Brown, afterwards Mrs. Demond of the upper parish in West Newbury.
The Misses Hazeltine and some half dozen of the pupils boarded with Dr. Parish, a number were accommodated in the families of Messrs. Benjamin and Moses Colman, the others were located in the vicinity. Miss Lucy Brown boarded with Mr. Moses Colman, and she became such a favorite that in after
years her sojourn in the family was often referred to with pleasure.
According to the prospectus, clergy- men frequented the school to lecture and attend to its interests. To young students about entering the ministry this seminary was a special attraction. The pupils were often in a flutter of excitement over this and that young minister, and several engagements were formed. One morning a very piously disposed youth appeared, whom the principal introduced as the Rev. Mr. - , adding, "that having deter- mined to consecrate his life to the con- version of heathen in foreign lands, he had come to enquire if any one of the young ladies present could so far deny herself and take up her cross as to accompany him as his soul's partner in his work for Christ and Him crucified. If either of the misses felt that she could do so, put her whole heart into the holy work, she would please rise." As the sound died on the teacher's lips, up jumped every girl in the room. All were ready to be given as lambs to the sacrifice. After much suppressed laugh- ter, some blushes and confusion, the matter was deferred to another time, but in a few weeks the missionary bore away a bride.
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