USA > Massachusetts > Hampden County > Ludlow > The history of Ludlow, Massachusetts, with biographical sketches of leading citizens, reminiscences, genealogies, farm histories, and an account of the centennial celebration, June 17, 1874 > Part 21
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INCIDENTS
Among the minor incidents related is one of Elisha Fuller, who early in the nineteenth century, while journeying westward with his young son Harry, met a personage so peculiar that it occurred to his mind the stranger was the incarnation of his satanic majesty, yet who proved to be the eccentric Lorenzo Dow, who the night before had preached at "Master" Frost's.
Among the unique characters in the town were two of special note. One, Veranus Shattuck, of Jenksville, known best under the sobriquet of "Doctor Foggus," we have met before as a soldier in 1812, in which strife he did valiant service, yet perhaps not always using the best of judgment. Later he figured as the little round-shouldered cobbler of Jenksville, almost as crooked as the sibilant, whose powers of oratory were seriously crippled by a strong nasal twang. Indeed, his only speech that has been handed down by indulgent fame was the one made on occasion of his election as captain of the military company of the town. At that time he is reported to have stepped forward to the astonished colonel (John Miller) and heralded through his facial protuberance the eloquent words, "Mr. Colonel, I excuse myself." Nor was he always the butt of ridicule, notwithstanding the wishes of malicious boys. It was his habit to sit near the entrance to the factory and see the people
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go in. The approving lads would signify their interest by patting him upon the head on passing his seat, sometimes with unpleasant emphasis. They did so once too often, for "Dr. Foggus" found an occasion when he did not "excuse himself," but sat down as usual, except as to the condition of his hat, as classic tyros would say. That useful covering, a tarpaulin by the way, he had adorned within with some bright sharp awls attached to a piece of sole leather, the leather resting upon his hair, the awl points aiming upwards. One by one the "boys" patted his head, as usual, and passed sadly along. We hardly need add that the "Doctor's" prescription was efficacious.
The hermit "Friday" was also well-known. His name is supposed to have been Timothy Haschall, and he became chargeable to the town in 1832, which relation was only broken by death about fifteen years later. He lived a while in a rude cabin near Red Bridge, subsisting on the vilest food, unless he was helped to better by neighbors or the town. Whence he came or who he was no one knew, nor could it be ascertained satisfactorily.
One Sunday morning, the minister of the First Church, in the midst of his sermon, asked the question, "How many Christians are there in town?" To make it more impressive, he repeated it a second and a third time. One of his hearers arose and replied, "Three, sir, yourself, Simeon Pease, and Asahel Rood."
Simeon Pease, with two or three others, was horseback riding one very windy, but clear, cold, moonshiny night. About twelve o'clock he rode up to a house in town, and rapped on the door with his riding whip. A man suddenly opened the door and said, "What is wanted?" Mr. Pease replied, "Hadn't you better take in your chimney? I think there is going to be a h-1 of a storm." He hit his horse and sped away.
When Hubbard Dutton was leader of the singing in the First Church of Ludlow, he had a choir of thirty or forty singers. One Sunday during the singing, which did not suit him, Mr. Dutton, forgetting for the moment that it was not a rehearsal, suddenly brought down his foot with a noise that resounded throughout the church. He fully expected to be reprimanded by the minister. To his great surprise the minister met him at the foot of the gallery stairs and said, "Mr. Dutton, I was glad to hear your foot come down." Mr. Dutton taught singing schools, and for many years was leader of the choir in this church.
Elisha Fuller was a noted wag. He would perpetrate a joke at any expense. Every one has heard of his story about the pins, which he "offered for sale from his store with the assurance that the pin-maker was dead and there was no further chance to buy. Taking up a pair of spectacles once at the Town house to try them, he averred he could see a hawk on Wilbraham Mountain. Nor would he listen to one word of disparagement of Ludlow. Some one remarking concerning the poverty of her soil, he declared that a traveler once lost his horse near the Center,
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and finding him in a field of corn, was obliged to clear a passage through the stalks with an axe. He once told the wondering auditors that he drove his horse at the time of a shower so fast that he himself kept ahead of the rain, while his dog swam just behind the wagon for a long distance. The ground extending lengthwise of his house is associated with him, as he might be seen, as long as he lived, after every snowstorm shoveling a good path around his house, always wearing a straw hat. He was a kindly man, familiarly known as "Uncle Elisha" in all the neighborhood, possessed of much energy and industry. He loved his land and believed in mowing the grass several times in one season. According to history he gave the land for the cemetery south of the church. He was not a believer in doctors or medicine. At one time when he had a fall, and lay in his long cradle, all he wanted was some porridge, and said he could set his own bones. Sitting in his armchair before a cheerful fire one evening, telling his grandson what was wanted at the village store, his words ceased; he had passed on as quietly as the snuffing out of a candle, at the age of 97 years, the eldest and last living child of Joshua Fuller, himself the father of thirteen children.
The following lines are attributed to Mr. Gad Lyon. He evidently courted the muses to some purpose.
REFLECTIONS
ON THE MORNING OF JAN. 1ft 1804
WHEN the kind goddefs fleep all eyes did clofe,
And mortals all lay rapt in foft repofe;
No voice was heard to whifper thro' the gloom
But all was hufhed and filent as the tomb.
Then, then without a groan, the aged year, Did tremble, totter, fall and difappear;
Compell'd by Fate to pafs that folemn bourn,
From which no period paft can e'er return. Which proves this truth moft clear to reafon's eye,
That time itfelf, like mortal man, muft die. How many millions of the human race, Which hailed the morn when the paft year took place;
Whofe healthful days and profpects of delight,
Made them forget that it would e'er be night; By death's deftroying fcythe have been cut down, Whofe bodies now lie flumbering in the ground. How many millions on this morn, appear
To wake and rife and wifh a happy year, Before December's cold and freezing breath, Shall haften to the fhades and tafte of death,
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Who now like thoughtlefs fheep, no danger fear, Nor dream the fatal meffenger fo near. Since 'tis our fate for to refign our breath, And pafs the folemn, lonely vale of death, Let wifdom's choiceft dictates rule our heart, And never from her facred rules depart. Then fhould heaven's thunders fhake the ftarry roof, And forked lightnings lick our fpirits up; Should trembling earth her opening jaws extend, And we into that fatal gulph defcend? Should rapid whirlwinds fweep the foreft clean, And we fall victims in that awful fcene? Should inundations deluge all the plain, And fhould we be among the thoufands flain! Should peftilence walk dreadful o'er the land, And with a ftern decree our lives demand! Should blazing comets, in their raging ire, Draw near and fet this trembling world on fire, 'Twould only waft us to the bleft abode, And place us in the paradife of GOD.
THE OAKLEY BALLAD
The "Oakley ballad" tells its own story. It was written by G. M. Fisk, while a young man in his teens, in commemoration of the sad fate of Elizabeth Oakley, and was sung with a wail at many a Ludlow fireside.
Come old and young, list to my song, While I its mournful strains prolong, Of a young girl-come hear me tell- Who did awhile in Jenskville dwell.
When young her mother did her give Unto her friends a while to live, And from her mother far she come With stranger friends to make her home.
But soon these friends did falsely prove, And showed to her no former love, For she by them was cruel used, And by her mistress was abused.
A toilsome task she had to do Ere to the factory she did go;
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And when into her room she went, The cruel thong she often felt.
Her cheeks soon lost their rosy hue, And she most melancholy grew; And when these gloomy thoughts did rise, The tears oft started from her eyes.
She told her mates within the mill She did herself intend to kill, And unto them these words did say, Upon her last ill-fated day :
"I have a mother-lovely too- O did she but my treatment know! For me she'll weep when I am gone; But all in vain-I can't return.
"Sorrow hath all my joy bereft Since I my dear, dear mother left; But me no more she'll ever see, For with the dead I soon shall be."
The bell had tolled the hour for noon When she, down-hearted, left her room, And on the river bank she went For to accomplish her intent.
The flowing deep soon o'er her closed, And she in silent death reposed; But none were there to view the scene Of her while struggling in the stream.
The news soon spread that on that day Elizabeth had gone away, When search was made for her in vain, No tidings of her could they gain.
A fortnight near had rolled its round, Ere they her lifeless body found; Then flocked the people to the shore, To view the orphan girl once more.
Then in the coffin her they laid And one short solemn prayer was said;
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Then to the church-yard's lonely place They carried her for earth's embrace.
Months passed by-her mother came To view her darling child again;
Her heart within her breast beat high As she unto the place came nigh.
And when the horrid news was told, Her cheek turned pale, her blood ran cold;
Both night and day she did lament, And she almost distracted went.
Elizabeth was fair and mild;
Her character was undefiled; Her mind was free, her voice was sweet,
Her heart was void of all deceit.
Her age was scarcely four and ten,
And she by many loved had been; And many mourned the shocking fate, And oft this mournful tale relate.
No marble stone of sculptured name Doth mark the spot where she is lain, And her none evermore will see Until they reach eternity.
The following letter, written at the close of the eighteenth century, will be appreciated as a sample of the style epistolary of those days. It is directed to "Dr. Sylvester Nash Ludlow."
Wilbraham Feby 4 1800
Sir it was with the greatift pleafure that I Received your letter dated November 2th Informing me of your health you gave me fome incour- agement of comeing to fe me before long it is now 7 or 8 months fins I have feen you if I ant miftaken I expected to receive a vifit from you before now but it don t come. I hope that you have not forgot us I want to fe you very Mutch and fo do your acquaintance I hope to re- ceive a vifit from you before long we are all well at prefent and I hope to hear of your good health and your family. I have nothing at prefent to wright only I want to fe you very mutch. . I wrote this in a hurry you muft excufe my bad writing and fo I must wind off.
I am your friend and well wifher, Luke Brewer
If you can read it I fhall be glad.
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There can be little question as to the desire for a visit. What, how- ever, was the occasion for the effusion on the third page is hardly so evident. It reads thus:
down see you me and may love not
up you I
you
read and that and
On a clear, cold, icy moonlight night, Seneca Wood, a quaint old gentleman, had been to the tavern at Ludlow Center kept by Jerusha Fuller (perhaps he had taken more than was good for him) and, while returning home, he slipped upon the ice. After repeated efforts to arise, a kneeling posture was all he could accomplish. One of his neighbors, returning from a prayer meeting with a team, stopped when he reached Mr. Wood, who was upon his knees, and said, "Seneca, what are you doing?" His reply was, "I am praying for you." Needless to say, he was taken home.
Paulina Rood, or "Aunt Polly Rood" as she was called, was a sister of Seneca Wood. She was noted for her skill in sickness or trouble of any kind, either as a nurse or physician. She often took the place of both. It was frequently said, "If we can get Aunt Polly Rood when we are sick, it does not make much difference about the doctor." She was always ready and willing to go wherever she could render service.
NICK AND TARZY
Melancholy was the story of "Nick and Tarzy" who were very worthy people.
Nicholas Daniels lived in the eastern part of the town on the farm of which the "Ould Burying Ground" was once a part. Thirza Olds lived over the line in Belchertown.
Nick was a fine specimen of the Yankee of the olden time with his "cue" tied with strips of eel-skin. He always wore a blue coat with shining buttons, regulation knee-breeches, his stockings being very smooth and fair. His shoe buckles, large and of shining silver, are treasured to this day by a descendant of his family.
For nearly two score years, he visited Tarzy every Sunday night, fondly anticipating the day which never came. It is said that on "general training day" he never failed to bring Tarzy a goodly cake of hard gingerbread when he came home.
Family legend claims that Nick had injured his hand with some sharp instrument. One cold, stormy Sunday evening in spring, he donned his best attire and despite the warnings of his family, wended his way to Tarzy's fireside, along the path which he had trodden for forty years. Exposure to the storm brought on lockjaw and he died in Tarzy's home.
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Need we wonder that even the voluble McLean found his vocabulary straitened when he undertook to offer Thirza words of consolation?
Afterward poor Tarzy lived but to keep Nick's memory green. She observed training day, never failing to bake gingerbread of a most golden hue, which she distributed in her lover's name to the children who came to see her. She always turned her cow out to pasture on the anniversary of his death, and walked to Three Rivers, carrying her butter and eggs to exchange for tea and snuff. Going and returning, she never failed to pay a visit to his grave.
Anny Olds, a tiny tot, went with her one of the last times Tarzy made the journey. Anny carried a little basket with some eggs as a venture of her own. When the store was reached, she bartered the eggs for two dainty little salt cellars, one of which is still treasured in the family.
When the travelers reached Tarzy's home, Anny was offered some of the gingerbread, but, remembering the color of the snuff, she declined : for the first and last time to accept it. Tarzy soon was laid to rest near Nicholas in the "Ould burying ground," just across the line on the Belchertown side. As in life they are divided. Her grave is marked with a fair stone, but, sad irony of fate! the most prominent word of Tarzy's epitaph is the word "Miss."
A local bard wrote the quaint ballad, "Nick and Tarzy, O!" containing the story of their love. When the centennial of Ludlow was celebrated in 1874, this ballad was printed, distributed among the people, and sung to the tune of "Benny Havens."
Into the conversation current of a generation has passed the expression "Courting as long as Nick and Tarzy."
(Verbatim copy)
"NICK AND TARZY"
Wilbur F. Miller, leader of the "Old Folks Concert," selected some music and it was sung at the Centennial.
Ye Original Ballad concerning
Nick and Tarzy.
Founded upon fact see Ludlow History for the account. Air. Benny Havens.
O Nick and Tarzy, O! O, Nick and Tarzy, O! We sing to you a song that's true Of Nick and Tarzy, O!
There was a man in Ludlow town, Lo, many years ago, As good a man as you might find- His neighbors tell you so.
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He had one fault, and only one, Which time has handed down; If folks would talk to him, forsooth, Of marriage, he would frown. Chorus O, Nick and Tarzy, O! O, Nick and Tarzy, O! We sing to you a song that's true, O, Nick and Tarzy, O!
You must not think our famous Nick Could never find a mate,
For never yet was lone young man Thus visited by fate; Upon the hill whose eastern slope Reached Nick's mundane abode,
There lived a lass whose winsome smiles Illumined all the road.
Chorus
At least, so thought our hero, Nick, Whose foot-prints thither bent. You might have found, most any night, If you for this were sent. And Tarzy, she with blushing face Would greet him at the gate. The neighbors said it was a match, And soon 'twould consummate.
Chorus
And thus the happy months sped on, Till lengthened into years, With all the bliss of courting days Nor bane of wedded fears. Years sped away, a score or two While some aver 'twas three Before they called the parson in Their happiness to see.
Chorus
Alas for human hopes and joys, He came by far too late; For Nick lay dead at Tarzy's home. Where he had met his fate.
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A fell disease had laid him low, While calling there one day, His time was come-he breathed his last, They carried him away.
Chorus
The moral is to all young folks Who have such things in mind;
Be careful how you put it off Or you'll be found behind. Remember how this worthy pair Were brought from weal to woe,
And take your warning while you think Of Nick and Tarzy, O!
Chorus
O, Nick and Tarzy, O! O, Nick and Tarzy, O! The tale is true, we've sung to you Of Nick and Tarzy, O!
In the days when the country was rife with the preparations for maintaining the Revolutionary War, the recruiting agent was no uncom- mon sight even among the lonely farmhouses. Some of the companies formed were not so moral as was desirable to many of the families of the members.
It happened that a partly-formed company of the undesirable sort appeared one day to enforce the enlistment of Jonathan Olds. He and his wife, Hannah Jones, did not favor his joining this company. After a very brief consultation, Jonathan requested a few minutes respite for prayer with his family. The request was granted, the men waiting outside, jesting and laughing meanwhile.
Jonathan offered but a short prayer; the good wife Hannah took up the petition, while Jonathan quietly made his departure through the back door into the woods.
The lengthening shadows roused the officer to the fact that enough time had been used; he demanded Jonathan's immediate presence. As no one appeared he entered the house and asked for Jonathan. There- upon Hannah replied, "I will not tell you; find him if you want him." Search was at once begun; so thorough was it that floors were torn up and feather beds ripped open, but all in vain and the men departed.
In the meantime Jonathan had swiftly made his way towards Spring- field and in the morning was safely enlisted in one of the more orderly companies.
Again and again the call for troops was repeated, and so ready was
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the response that soon Hannah Olds found herself with but one son to help care for her family, and he a mere lad.
When the recruiting officer again appeared she dressed this son in his grandmother's gown and great frilled cap and seated him on a huge settle in the darkest corner of the room, by the fireplace. The officer inquired if she had a son at home old enough to enlist. She responded, "Yes," and was ordered to produce him; but she answered as before, "You must come and get him if you want him."
Again her home was invaded by a search party and ruthlessly torn up. Once more the search was fruitless, for none thought to peer under the cap frill for a soldier.
This woman is buried in the historic "Ould Burying Ground." Her grave is marked by a large slate tombstone, bearing the strange device of a great round face surrounded by clusters of fantastic stone curls. The entire stone is adorned with a conventional border of morn- ing glories. The inscription may be found amond the epitaphs on page 90.
Samuel Olds, who was born in 1756, was probably the lad referred to in the preceding story. He was gifted in many ways with a phenomenal memory. It is said that after listening to a sermon he could repeat it word for word. He retained this faculty when an aged man. Frequently the young people read to him stories or poems, which he would later recite almost perfectly. Another of his gifts was that of rhyming. Many a local event is told to-day in his quaint jingles. Perhaps his greatest power lays in his "second sight." To that capacity is attributed the following story:
Having occasion to pass the "Ould Burial Place" very late one night, he saw a bright light in one corner of the yard. Upon looking at it steadily he also saw two figures, whom he recognized as his friends, Solomon Wright and Jedediah Paine, busily engaged in digging a grave.
His curiosity was aroused and he hastened to enter the yard to ascertain why they were doing this. The fastening of the gate proved obstinate and so fully occupied his attention that when he had succeeded in opening it, the light and men had disappeared. Careful search revealed nothing. He related the incident at home, but it was so uncanny that it was not talked about openly.
One can hardly picture the astonishment of Samuel and his family when the news of the tragic death of the two men was later announced. (See page 319.)
Samuel's prescience of things to come served to save property and sometimes life. As he was watching the coming of a thunder storm one summer afternoon, he several times expressed a fear that a certain neighbor's house would suffer damage. After the storm had begun, as the family were gathered within the house, he suddenly started up and shouted in terrified tones that the house in question had been smitten.
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To pacify him his sons went to the house. They found a group of terror-stricken children, for their parents were away. A strange odor in the house made them hurry upstairs, where they discovered a great hole in the roof and a feather bed on fire. The flames were quickly extinguished. What a catastrophe his "second sight" had averted !
Lurana Olds Daniels, a sister of Samuel Olds and wife of Asa Daniels, was also noted for her wonderful memory. It is reliably asserted that she remembered accurately every birth, marriage, and death that had occurred in the part of the town where she lived, as well as the date of the erection or repair of all the buildings.
When William Hubbard Beebe and Rebekah Olds entered the room where they were to be married, the bride was on the wrong side of the groom. During the prayer, when every head was supposed to be bowed in reverent attention, one ancient dame arose, tiptoed her way across to the couple, changed them about and returned to her seat unobserved. When the prayer was over, the consternation of the assembled guests, to see the couple placed as conventionality demanded, may be imagined.
FEATS OF STRENGTH
A company including Dexter Lyon, Homer Lyon, David Lyon, Selah Kendall, Isaac Sheldon and others had assembled at one time when a gentleman who was visiting at Dr. Alden's was introduced as a celebrated wrestler. A ring was quickly formed, and David Lyon, one of the smallest men, was appointed to try his hand with the champion, in order that the others might learn his methods. When they were ready to take hold, the stranger said to Dr. Alden, "You go the other side of the house and see where he strikes." But instead of sending David to the other side of the house the champion found himself lying upon his back. Picking himself up he wanted to take hold again. David said to him: "You acknowledge you were fairly thrown, don't you?" "O yes," said he. "Well," replied David, "it is no object for me to take hold of a man whom I can throw as easily as I can you."
Titus Pomeroy, a somewhat noted wrestler, claimed to be able to throw anybody in the vicinity of South Hadley Falls. Finally William Miller, son of Dr. A. J. Miller, was persuaded to go over and try his hand with him. When Miller was introduced, Pomeroy said: "Is that the man you have brought to wrestle with me? I could eat him up in a minute." They took hold. Pomeroy gave him a twitch and swung Miller around behind him. Miller, however, was all ready for his opponent, and tripped both feet from under him, so that Pomeroy came down in a very unexpected manner. Pomeroy said, as he shook off the dust, "I didn't think that little rascal could throw me."
Titus Hubbard once met a man who claimed a position in the road
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which was not fairly his; without ceremony Titus took up the offender bodily and set him aside.
Reuben Sikes is said to have repeatedly lifted one end of a very heavy sled-load of green hickory wood.
Benjamin Sikes, grandfather of Mrs. Jackson Cady, Otis and Danforth W. Sikes, was a very rugged man over six feet in height. He, with his hired man, was one day cutting wood for coal, which wood was not split. About four o'clock in the afternoon they ceased cutting, and began to pile it up. It was found that the hired man had cut four and one half cords, while Mr. Sikes had cut six and three fourths cords.
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