USA > Massachusetts > Essex County > Newbury > Reminiscences of a nonagenarian > Part 3
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The neighboring town of Bradford, that part of which is now Groveland, also rejoiced in another somewhat re- markable clergyman. Parson Dutch was what is denominated a smart preacher. He was also distinguished for his equine tastes and jockey predi- lections. I have often heard my father laugh over an incident that occurred one Sunday about the time of which I am writing. It was a hot summer day, the doors of the meeting-house were wide open. Parson Dutch had come to preach. He had risen to open the afternoon service, when a stranger, mounted upon a superb charger, rode
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up to the front entrance. Tying his steed opposite the door, he entered the sanctuary. Parson Dutch, from the pulpit, commanded a full view of the horse, and his audience averred that he watched it " all through the sermon." Father said : " If it had not been Sab- ba' day the parson would have proposed a swap ; he knew he longed to bargain. He thought he would, spite of the day and his cloth."
Father Frisby, as he was universally denominated, a much-beloved and ven- erated old man, was the minister at the adjacent town of Boxford. We had many candidates, amongst whom were young men that in later years became "burning and shining lights."
Year after year rolled past, and still we were without a minister. Like the rest of New England, the parish became divided in sentiment, part adhering to the Arminian tenets, the others going over to what was called the Hopkinsian side.
CHAPTER VI.
The summer I was four years old I began to attend school. The school- house in our district was not erected un- til some years later, the scholars being accommodated, up to that period, in a private house on the Crane-neck road, a short distance below where the pres- ent school edifice is located. My first teacher, Master Zack. Bacon, was a na- tive of Bradford. Female teachers would then have been deemed inadmis- sible in a district school. It would not have been thought possible that order could be maintained under feminine rule, where often more than half the
scholars were unruly boys, many of the eldest men grown.
The school was taught in the larger of the two front rooms, the remainder of the house being occupied by my mother's consin, Edmund Little. We entered by the front door ; the hats and bonnets were hung in the entry. The schoolroom was furnished with a desk and a flag-seated chair for the teacher ; a clumsy square board table stood in the centre of the apartment, surround- ed by high, wooden benches. Here were seated the older pupils; the younger were placed upon low forms ranged around the walls. The scholars were divided into four ranks: the " Bible," "Testament," "Spelling Book" and "Primer" classes. Dil- worth's spelling book was the one then in use. The older scholars studied arithmetic, and wrote. Writing books were a later invention. A strong, coarse paper of foolscap size was then used, either in single sheets or several stitched together in book form. This paper, be- ing plain, was ruled. Lead pencils were then a thing unknown ; a plummet of lead supplied their place. These plum- mets were usually of home construction, and were cut in various devices, to suit the taste of the owner. The arithmet- ical rules and sums were also copied in- to books kept specially for that purpose. Master Bacon, a short, shight young man, somewhat of a dandy, and fresh from college, was a little inclined to what is now denominated "fast". Though one of the liveliest and most entertaining of mortals out of school, within he maintained a stern decorum, quite awful to a timid novice, like my- self; but, as I had already mastered my alphabet and was exceedingly fasci- nated by my new primer, I immediately
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became a favorite with the teacher. With what sadness I used to gaze at that memorable picture of John Rogers at the stake. How many times I have counted the heads, to ascertain whether there were ten or eleven little ones. How my sympathies went out to those poor children and their distressed moth- er. With what genuine delight I would con-
"In Adam's fall We sinned all. The cat doth play, And after slay."
With what pride I would repeat : "Who was the first man? Adam; Who was the first woman? Eve; Who was the first murderer? Cain; Who was the first martyr? Abel;" and the remain- der of the long list of Biblical biogra- phy.
The first morning Master Bacon opened the school without prayer. The scholars reported, and in the evening he was waited upon by several of the dignitaries of the district, to ascertain the cause of the omission. The gentle- man excused the oversight, with the promise that it should never be repeat- ed. Accordingly we scholars were fa- vored henceforth with an unusually long petition morning and evening, the gen- tleman assuring his chums that he had as lief pray as do anything else for the money. Master Bacon taught the school for two years, with much accept- ance ; he then removed to a wider sphere of action. Afterward he emi- grated to Vermont, where he became a leading citizen.
His successor was Samuel Moody, from the Falls parish. This gentle- man, a very handsome and well-bred young man, besides being an excellent teacher, was proficient as a violinist.
His fiddle was a never-failing source of delight. I was a great favorite with Master Sam. He always led me home from school, and as he boarded at my great-uncle John Little's, I was daily favored with a tune.
Master Ned Longfellow, also from Byfield, next taught the school. He soon after removed to Maine, where he became distinguished. It is from this family that the poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, is descended.
The summer I was eight years old a Miss Ruth Emerson, from Hampstead, N. H., collected a select school. There were from twenty to thirty scholars, mostly girls ; there were a few small boys. I believe the tuition was but six cents a week. This lady promoted us into "Webster's Spelling Book" and "Webster's Third Part"-books then just coming into use. Miss Emerson was a most accomplished needlewoman, inducting her pupils into the mysteries of ornamental marking and embroidery. This fancy work opened a new world of delight. I became perfectly entranced over a sampler that was much admired, and a muslin handkerchief, that I wrought for mother, became the wonder of the neighborhood.
My father had purchased the portion of the homestead inherited by his brother Samuel, and that gentleman, after much hesitation and deliberation, at length decided upon the arduous un- dertaking of emigrating to a new coun- try. Several of his wife's relations had recently located themselves upon farms in Vermont. Mrs. Smith was anxious to join them. "She was tired of living in such an old-settled place, where, un- less one possessed a large farm, for years they must play second fiddle, screw and serimp to secure a mere com-
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petence. For her part she preferred to go into the wilderness, where, if things were not as nice, one lived as their neighbors. She had rather be at the 'head of the poor than the tail of the rich.' In Vermont, where land was cheap, they could secure a goodly number of acres. The boys would become more useful every year. In time they could get forehanded ; be as well off as any one. Then, as her husband possessed fine literary tastes and some culture, it opened a sphere for his ambition. She would not be surprised if he became an influential and distinguished citizen."
Swedenborg affirms that man posses- ses the understanding, and woman the will. Uncle Sam, after mature consid- eration, could find no valid reason for insubordination to the feminine will; a tract of land in the town of Berlin was purchased, and the preparations for a removal thither commenced. February was the time set for the flitting, as that month usually gave the best sledding, a great desideratum for the transmis- sion of the household goods. Such a flurry as the whole family and all its collateral branches were in, for several weeks, seldom occurs in a life-time. Clothing for a year or two in advance must be prepared. One sister cut a generous quarter from her web of linen ; another from her fulled cloth; a third presented blankets ; another relative gave cloth for woolen dresses, and stocking yarn. Several ladies, rela- tives and friends, clubbed together and bought a number of handsome articles as parting gifts. There was a round of farewell visits, each of which was turned into a sewing-bee for the benefit of the emigrants. A large sleigh was constructed, which was covered by one
ofthe check ed woolen coverlets then so much used. A quantity of provisions was provided, cooked meats and poul- try, pies, cake, doughnuts, bread, but- ter and cheese were packed into a wooden box; this, other luggage, a feather bed, bedding and coverlets, were placed in the sleigh, along with the family. It was necessary to thus prepare for the night's accomodation, as the houses of entertainment on the route were few in number, small, and often over-crowded. The furniture was loaded upon two ox-sleds. My father drove his sled, to which was attached a yoke of oxen and a horse. Mr. Bai- ley, Aunt Smith's brother, drove the other team. Uncle Sam had a yoke of oxen forward of his brother's pair, and another relative drove his four cows. It was a clear, frosty morning when the cavalcade took their departure. A sad parting to all, but especially to me, as my cousin Sally, a girl of my own age, and my other cousins, had been my playmates from infancy. A lone- some fortnight followed; two weeks that, then, appeared as long as two years have since. To add to my discomfort and loneliness, my little brother, like other baby boys, toddling into mischief, contrived, during the momentary ab- sence of mother, to pull over the tea- kettle, which was standing in the chim- ney corner, scalding his right arm and hand badly.
Mother went silently about the house with a worried look. Grandmother dozed through the days in her low chair, tipped back against the ceiling by the fireplace. Aunt Sarah was not half as brisk and cheery as usual, and Uncle Enoch grew decidedly surly. Poor little Jim's arm grew worse, Mother and Aunt Sarah became anx-
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ious, when one of the neighbors brought in Mrs. Salter's recipe for a burn. Mrs. Salter, a somewhat noted woman at the "Port," had effected many cures. It was concluded to try the prescrip- tion. A linen glove and sleeve were fitted over the burn ; these were kept saturated with a mixture of olive oil and snow water, beat to a froth. In less than a week the sore was healed and a new skin formed. The sun was just setting, on the twenty-first day of father's absence ; I was dragging little Jim across the sanded floor upon his tiny sled, when Aunt Sarah's glad tones reverberated over the house-" Broth- er Jim's come ; Brother Jim 's coming up the lane." There was a general rush to the back door. Yes, oh joy ! there was father, unyoking his oxen at the gate. A regular jubilee ensued. The sirloin steak that had been kept for this occasion was cooked ; a plate of the nicest cream toast dipped ; the best mince pie, plum cake, doughnuts, cheese and preserves were placed upon the table. Grandma'am, Aunt Sarah and Uncle Enoch joined us at supper. After tea, as the news spread that "Jim Smith had got home," the neigh- bors flocked in to hear of the journey and the new country which he had vis- ited. The room was soon filled, and a cordial welcome was given to the trav- eller. We could not but be pleased at the evident satisfaction manifested at father's safe return. I was permitted to sit up till an unwonted hour, to hear a description of the journey ; of the slow progress through the long, cold days ; and the weary nights at the small, in- convenient taverns, which were often so crowded that the males of the company were obliged to sleep on the kitchen floor, wrapped in their coverlets. At the
end of a tedious week the new home was reached. One of Aunt Smith's brothers {lived in a log house, roofed with bark; with a stone chimney ; the other Mr. Bailey had put up a good-sized frame house. The brick chimney was built, the outside fin- ished, and the floors laid, but the rooms were not partitioned. There was, however, sufficient space. Quilts and coverlets were suspended from the beams. Uncle Sam's family went to housekeeping one side of the chimney, while Mr. Bailey's occupied the other side. A saw mill was near; Uncle Sam immediately began to cut timber and haul it to the mill, and he expect- ed to get up a house and barn that would be tenantable by warm weather.
Father had not caught the emigrant fever ; he was a home body, firmly attached to the ancestral acres. "If he left Massachusetts he should prefer to go South rather than North. Still, Vermont was a fine state ; a great grain and grazing country." The Baileys had raised a large crop of wheat of an extra quality. Father bought a quantity of the grain, and brought it home in a board chest which he constructed and fastened to his sled for that purpose. This was quite a successful speculation, as he paid only a dollar per bushel ahd it sold readily at home for a dollar and a half. It must be remembered that the family flour barrel had not then come into vogue. Wheat was raised upon the farm, or bought and ground by the bushel. Bolts had been put into most of the mills, but some families still used their flour unbolted. Indian meal and rye, especially rye, were the staples for daily use in most house- holds. Barley was also raised and ground, but wheat flour was somewhat
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of a luxury ; a housekeeper felt rich with a bushel or two on hand, and it was made to last a long time.
CHAPTER VII.
On July 19th, 1794, occurred one of those catastrophes that send a thrill of horror and anguish throughout the com- munity. My seventh birth-day came a few days previous. Aunt Hannah Lit- tle and myself had been for some time anticipating the pleasure of spending the anniversary with my mother's aunt, Mrs. Simeon Chase. This lady still occupied the paternal homestead. The parish, then an infant one just gather- ed, had not, at the settlement of the Rev. William Johnson, provided a par- sonage. The clergyman purchased sev- eral acres near the meeting-house, upon which he erected a house and farm buildings. The mansion, a square, dou- ble house, with a chimney at either end, stood a little below the meeting-house, on the opposite side of the street, just beyond the brow of the hill. A narrow lawn, shaded by maples, extended in front, a picket fence separating it from the grassy country road from which a gravel walk led up to the front en- trance. A carriage drive ran round the end to a side door, and to the barn and other buildings in the rear. Mrs. Chase and another sister, afterwards Mrs. Moody, were unmarried at the time of their father's decease. As the other sisters had each received a full "fixing out," the furniture of the house had been given to these two single daughters. At his marriage, Master Simeon Chase bought the Parsonage,
the library and other appertenances ; consequently the premises at that time presented nearly the same aspect they had borne during the first pastor's life.
Madame Johnson's father, Dr. Hum- phrey Bradstreet, had furnished his daughter's new house in a style not fre- quent in those days. The principal entrance opened into a spacious hall, handsomely furnished in dark wood, from which a highly ornamented stair -. case led to the story above. The white wall was decorated with the portraits of Lieut. Governor Dummer and his wife, and a view of Harvard College. Under the pictures stood a large, massive din- ing table. The parlor, a square, pleas- ant room, was to the left of the en- trance. Its three windows commanded a lovely view of the surrounding coun- try and the river, bounded by the roll- ing hills of its farther shore. This room displayed an unusual embellish- ment ; the walls were hung with a velvet paper, a purple figure on a buff ground.
Papered walls had not yet become common, no paste was used ; four pol- ished hard wood convex 'slats running round the room held the hangings in place. Small, slender brass andirons, and a tiny brass shovel and tongs adorned the tiled fireplace, an antique table, its legs curiously carved and or- namented, stood between the front win- dows ; over it hung a mirror in a black and gilt frame ; the chairs were cane seated and a strip of cane was inserted into the high, carved backs. An arm- chair occupied one corner ; opposite stood the buffet, lustrous with rich silver, brightly painted china and glasses of various shapes and graceful device. The library, the opposite front room, had shelves round the two sides, well filled with books, and a study table in
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the centre. Master Chase kept a pri- vate school in this apartment part of the year. The back sitting-room was supplied with more common furniture, and a press-bed that turned up in a re- cess behind folding doors. The kitchen, the other back room, had been furnished with every convenience then considered requisite for the domestic purposes of a large family ; the fireplace was huge, even for those days, and the long dres- ser shimmered with an array of bright pewter.
Master Chase, a very eccentric per- son, was his wife's senior by several years, and he was fond of relating how he had never dreamed of marrying lit- tle Hannah Johnson when, at her fath- er's desire, she used to draw a tankard of cider for his refreshment upon his calls on the clergyman in his college va- cations. The pair were childless for fifteen years of married life ; then a lit- tle girl was born to them. This event caused such a sensation, was such a wonder throughout the family and the vicinity, that the Master declared the babe's name should be Myra. Myra, therefore, she was christened. Little Myra, on the watch for her expected guests, met us at the gate ; Aunt Chase, a slight, black-eyed woman, bade us welcome at the door. After a lunch, Myra took us over the premises. The Master taught one or the other of the district schools in the town during the winter, but through the summer he re- ceived pupils at home. youths fitting themselves in the higher branches of learning, for college or mercantile life. School over, we went into the library. How numerous the books looked. Else- where I had never found more than a dozen or so in a house, and we were much amused with the plates in illus-
trated copies of Josephus, and Homer's Iliad. The Master was in the best of humor, and made us laugh through din- ner. When he chose he could be one of the most entertaining of mortals, but he was often quite the reverse. His family were accustomed to his oddities, and his pupils were obliged to bear them.
In the afternoon Mr. Parker Chase's daughter Sukey, from the main road, came in. As Aunt Hannah and I took leave, Miss Chase asked me to carry an invitation to our neighbor, Nabby Hale, to join a party, across the river, huckle- berrying the next week. Miss Hale, who was on the eve of marriage to Mr. Moses Longfellow, of Byfield, resided with her grandfather Dole, on a farm at the southerly end of Crane-neck hill. The young lady was sewing on her wedding dress, when I delivered the message. She said she should visit her stepfather before her marriage, and if not too busy would join the excursion- ists.
On the Saturday afternoon of the fol- lowing week, Aunt Sarah and I went into the pasture to pick berries. It was a hot, sultry day betokening show- ers. Wandering on into Bradford woods, unheeding the sky, we were startled by a teriffic thunder peal ac- companied by a violent gust of wind. Hastily turning, we saw that the west was threateningly black with clouds, and though only a few scattering drops reached us, in the direction of the main road it was raining heavily. The first fright over, I seized my basket, in or- der to hasten home as fast as possible, but Aunt Sarah said there was no cause for hurry, the shower would not come our way, it would follow the river. Without outstripping my companion I
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walked fast up the hill. As I neared the stone wall that divided the pasture from the house field, to my surprise I saw mother come from the front door, and run across the newly mown grass in the direction of the bars ; I leaped them and rushed to meet her. Tears were streaming down her checks, and for a moment her speech failed. Aunt Sarah hurried forward to hear the terri- ble news, which had been brought by Mr. John Peabody, on his way to Mr. Dole's. The whole of the berrying party, with the exception of Mr. Moses Chase (Nabby Hale's step-father), had been drowned in the Merrimac, by the overturning of the sail-boat during the thunder gust, midway the river, as they were returning to the Newbury shore. Mr. Chase, on seeing the rising cloud, had hurried the embarkation of the company, never dreaming that their safety would be endangered before they could cross. His three children, Polly, Rebecca and Joshua, Nabby Hale, Mercy Pillsbury, Sarah and Mehitable Brown, and Mr. Edmund Kendrick were drowned. Sukey Chase had a singular premonition during the morn- ing, which, as the time for sailing ap- proached, increased to such a degree that, under the plea of headache, she remained at home. My father and Aunt Sarah hastened to Mr. Dole's. The eight bodies were soon drawn from the water, and the remains of the lovely granddaughter were, towards evening, borne to the bereaved home. Words are inadequate to depict the scene ! The stricken family and youthful lover were for a time wholly overcome. It was arranged that the seven from the main road should be interred from the meeting-house on the morrow, where ' Parson Dutch had been engaged to
officiate ; but, as Mr. and Mrs. Dole were aged and infirm, and it would be more convenient for the Hales, Long- fellows, and other Byfield relatives and friends, it was decided that Miss Hale should be buried from her grandfath- er's house. Father mounted his horse and rode to East Haverhill, to procure the services of the Rev. Mr. Adams, the pastor of the church, for the funeral rites. Until a late hour our house was filled with a sorrow-stricken throng, going and coming from Mr. Dole's. The following day father and Aunt Sa- rah devoted to the bereaved family, and we all attended the funeral in the after- noon.
The obsequies in the church were sol- emnly impressive. The seven coffins were placed in the broad aisle, where, amid the sobs and moans, Parson Dutch - his own voice often broken - spoke words befitting the occasion. Then the seven corpses were borne on the shoul- ers of their friends, a mournful file, fol- lowed by a long procession, an immense throng-not only our own people, but from other towns, to the burial place by the river side. Slowly; with uncov- ered heads, in impressive silence, their burdens were deposited in the seven open graves. Dust was committed to dust, with that hope in a blessed im- mortality, which is the only source of faith, upbearing the anguish of such an hour. Lingeringly, with many tears, the crowd dispersed, and the dead were left on the picturesque liill- side, where the western sun would lov- ingly linger and the soft breezes play over the grassy mounds, while the river rippled beyond, and the shadows chased each other over field, woodland and swelling hills, and the smoke curled above peaceful homesteads dotting the wide-
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spread landscape. Miss Hale's body also rested in a lovely spot ; a small, rural graveyard at the foot of Crane- neck Hill ; a pleasant, secluded " God's Acre," where the song-birds attune their sweetest melody, and the violets bloom the earliest and grow the larg- est.
The Sunday following was most mem- orable to all. Dr. Toppan came early in the week to sympathize with and con- sole his afflicted friends, and former parishioners. The meeting-house was crowded, and when the long list of fu- neral notes, requesting prayers were read, there was not a dry eye in the assembly. Dr. Toppan preached an extremely appropriate and impressive sermon. Child though I was, the whole scene rises distinctly in my memory. Mrs. Hendrick, in her widow's hood and scarf, with her two little fatherless girls, sat in the next pew, and the oth- er numerous mourners in their sable garb heightened the awe and sadness of the scene.
CHAPTER VIII.
The summer that I attained my ninth year aunt Betsy celebrated her nuptials. Preparations therefor pro- ceeded for some months, and the skill I had acquired in marking and embroid- ery called my services into requisition.
My grandfather's family presented a perfect type of an orderly Puritan house- hold. A clergyman's daughter, Grand- mother Little gave an air of refinement and decorum to her small realm, seldom seen in a farmer's or mechanic's domi- cile.
Judith, the fourth daughter, had, two years previous, married Mr. Amos Chase, whose residence at this time was in Ha- verhill. This gentleman descended from Aquila Chase, a mariner from Cornwall, England, who came first to Hampton in 1610, thence to Newbury in 1646. He married Ann Wheeler of Hampton. This pair had eleven chil- dren, five sons and six daughters. From these sprung a numerous progeny. A- mos, son of Samuel and Sarah (Stuart) Chase, was born in the brick house on the main road nearly opposite that lead- ing to Crane-neck hill, where he resi- ded when first married. A short time previous to Aunt Betsey's wedding, he purchased a farm in Haverhill, about half a mile below Haverhill bridge. In addition to the cultivation of his land, he was largely engaged in the manufac- ture of shoes.
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