USA > Maine > York County > Parsonsfield > A history of the first century of the town of Parsonsfield, Maine > Part 46
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MANUFACTORIES.
Parsonsfield has not been a manufacturing town. In early days, most of the clothing worn, as well as implements used, were made in the family by hand. There were a few tanneries and shoe shops, also two or three mills for carding wool and dressing cloth.
About 1811, Samuel Lord built a small factory, in which he manu- factured cloth from wool, using machinery driven by water. To utilize flax seed, he also made linseed oil, continuing in both branches of business fifteen or twenty years.
In 1849, Mr. Lord brought to town the first case of sale clothing ever made in the vicinity. An aged lady, not comprehending this new
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD.
innovation, remarked that " John's wife and girls have been making breeches for Sam Lord all summer. He can't wear half of them out if he lives to the age of Methuselah."
A few years after, Nathaniel Pendexter and others went into the business largely at East Parsonsfield.
It is estimated that the women of this town annually earn from five to eight thousand dollars with machine and needle.
About 1854, the making of ladies shoes by hand, for parties in Lynn and Haverhill, was introduced, but the use of sewing machines spoiled the business.
- There is a woolen factory at Kezar Falls, which is noticed elsewhere.
INDIANS.
Tradition and history agree that after the surrender of Canada, Indian avengers of blood followed the American soldiers to their homes. H. G. O. Smith furnishes the following :
The maiden name of my grandmother Smith was Richards. She was born on the frontier west of Dover, N. H., 1758. As she was showing a string of horny points taken from deer, I asked her for a history of that treasured relic. She said:
"My father had several times assisted in repelling attacks and recovering prisoners. He was lieutenant in the army under General Amherst. After the conquest of Canada he returned home. As he opened the door one morning the next June, an Indian fired at him and fled. Snatching his gun, he gave chase and after a race of several hours shot him. The savage had ornaments like these around wrists and ankles. Cutting off the bracelets, my father reached a settlement, only to die three weeks later. Common report said he came from Canada with Chocorua."
CHANGES.
From the census the fact will appear that there are not so many inhabitants in the town as formerly. There are less acres under culti- vation, but the yield is quite as great as in former times. Many acres once cleared are now covered again with growth of forest trees. There is a loss in numbers of live stock which is more than made up in increased value. The oxen, cows and horses of the town never were so valuable as today.
There are but few sheep, where there were once many. Far more
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD.
corn and grain are fed to animals than formerly, and much more is consumed than is produced. In former times the production of corn was in excess of the consumption. This change is now offset by the apple crop, which in former times was valueless. In 1886, from 8,000 to 10,000 barrels of Baldwin apples were sold by the farmers of our town.
Where prior to the war our citizens were borrowers of money, they are now lenders, very many having deposits in savings banks and other interest paying corporations, as well as stock in business enterprises, which go to prove the fact that reduction of population and less num- bers of cattle, horses, and sheep, are not evidences of the financial condition of the town.
THE MILITIA.
The following notice is a copy from the records of the town clerk : YORK SS. COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS.
Agreeable to directions from Major General Goodwin to us; we hereby notify and warn the male inhabitants of the town of Parsonsfield, from sixteen to sixty years of age, to assemble and meet at the house of Josiah Colcord, Thursday the fifth day of November next for the following purposes-viz. Firstly, to choose a Moderator to govern said meeting. Secondly, to choose a Captain, Lieutenant & Ensign.
JONATHAN KINSMAN & Selectmen DAVID HOBBS S of Parsonsfield
Dated Oct 25, 1789.
Met and chose Joseph Parsons Captain, James Morrison first Lieutenant, Sam- uel Lougee second, Job Colcord Ensign.
Under date of Dec. 29, 1789, the selectmen say :
Whereas there has been much uneasiness and disturbance in the election of military officers; to promote peace we have divided the town into two districts, beginning at the eastern boundary and following the sixth range till it strikes the Middle Road, thence by that road to Effingham.
At the second meeting for the southern district, Thomas Parsons, Esq., was chosen captain, James Marston lieutenant, and Joseph Pease ensign. The north district chose Jonathan Kinsman captain, Samuel Lougee lieutenant, and David Hobbs ensign. In later years both dis- tricts were sub-divided, also a company of light infantry organized. The regimental musters were either at North or South Road. It met
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD.
once in New
1842 SAWfield, and once in Cornish. Trainings were abolished in ,cegr 1843.
"The above is all the information we can glean directly from the town records, but as our forefathers were particular to give military men their proper titles, we get the names and approximate date of · service of captains and officers of higher grade. Promotions were, with very few exceptions, from ensigns up, step by step. It is not claimed that the list here given is perfect.
GENERALS :- James Thomas, about 1829.
COLONELS :- Jonathan Kinsman, about 1794, Joseph Parsons, 1811; Stephen Bickford, 1815; Bartlett Doe, 1825; David L. Hobbs, 1829; Simon J. Whitten, 1831; John Goddard, 1838.
MAJORS :- Paul Burnham, 1800; Zebulon Pease, 1811 ; John Moore, 1815; Thomas Churchill, 1830; James W. Weeks, 1836; Samuel Mer- rill, 1842.
CAPTAINS :- Thomas Parsons, 1789; James Morrison, 1794; David Hobbs, 1794; Harvey Moore, 1795; James Marston, 1798; Joseph Granville, 1800; Asa Pease, 1802; George Newbegin, 1808; Abner Kezar, 1810; John Lougee, 1812; John Pease, 1816; Jacob Dearborn, 1816; David Marston, 1817; Samuel Tuck, 1819; Joseph Merrill ; William Blazo, 1823; and later, Joseph Dearborn, John Kezar, Gideon Bickford, Joseph S. Dearborn, Caleb Burbank, Jacob Dearborn, Har- vey Moore, Harvey M. Towle, Jesse Wedgwood, Luther Sanborn, Luther Emerson, Alvah Doe, Jacob Marston, Jonathan Tuck.
GEO. H. WALKER & CO. BOSTON
Orlando V. Parks
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD.
POETS OF PARSONSFIELD.
This town, nestled away in the northwest corner of the County of York, its western boundary being the border of the sister state of New Hampshire, its rugged rock-ribbed hills, covered with massive growth of forest trees, such as its rough and hardy soil has ever produced, has always attracted within its borders men of force and determined will and perseverance.
Such has been the fact since the time its first settlers, the Moore brothers, from Scarborough, settled on the south-eastern border, and the Doe brothers, from Governor's Farm in Wolfboro, N. H., in pursuit of a home in the wilds, crossed " Province Lake " in a " dugout," in 1775, and ascended the ridge of land on its western border, just as the setting sun threw slantwise thereon its last rays, there camping at night and locating the home for themselves and the generations to follow them.
Our early ancestors found life here to be " real "- to be "earnest." In its toils, privations and hardships, little of poetry, and very little indeed to develop a poetic spirit. Yet she has given to the world, to every calling, profession and trade, men and women of wisdom, of genius and of worth. While none have won fame in this particular field, several merit honorable mention.
The sweetest poet Maine has ever boasted, David Barker, Esq., though not her son, is indirectly claimed in some measure by us, from the fact that that " Roman Mother," from and through whom he largely obtained his genius, and to whom so much of his mentality and success were due, was one of Parsonsfield's fair daughters, Sarah Pease. The glittering gems which have fallen from his pen, of patriotism, of spark- ling wit, of sentimentality, of moral precept, and of religious faith and hope and trust, will live.
Of those of the native born, who have essayed to write in verse, it is safe to say that the late ORLANDO T. PARKS has, thus far, had no superior. He possessed a mind of rare versatility, a ready comprehen- sion of human nature, brilliant as a wit and genius. He was the son of Eliphalet and Abigail (Parsons) Parks, and was born in Parsons- field, June 7, 1832. His education was mostly in the common schools.
Most of his active life was passed in the town of his nativity, where he taught school, labored at his trade, instructed in vocal music, etc.
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He was absent a few years in Dexter, Me., and in Boston, Mass. He was twice married, first to Miss Mary P. Burbank, of Acton, who died Jan. 15, 1867. His second wife was Miss Susan G. Lougee, of Parsons- field, who survives him. He died Dec. 11, 1879, aged forty-seven years.
Most of his poetic effusions, which found way into print, were writ- ten during the time he was a citizen of Dexter, Me., one of which will be noticed further on. His ready wit finds illustration in a little note he wrote me and forwarded by the hand of a friend. He had been to my office a few days prior, during his last illness, and obtained some medicine, saying he would call again when that supply was exhausted. But growing worse rather than improving, and having opportunity to send me word, he seized a pencil and slip of paper, and dashed off the following :
"Dr. J. D., my bottle is M. T. And ought, I suppose, to be filled, Since once I have dared your skill and yet's spared My life, while others are killed, Perhaps 'twill be best to make further test Of your powders, your pills, or your potions, So please call to-day (if coming this way), While I remain Yours with devotion, O. T. P."
Among his efforts which found way into print are the " Hotel Clerk," " Barefoot Dick," "Thoughts suggested on reading lines entitled 'A Sunset Fancy,'" "One cannot always tell," "Uncle Ben's Husking," " A good time coming," etc., etc. They all possess merit, and show genius outside of the mere poesy.
A pathetic poem, relative to his old home, the scenes of childhood, and to his parents who had departed, has attracted my attention. It bears the simple title of "Lines," with no signature at the close, only the words "No matter." It is before me in his handwriting, and I omote a few of the first and last lines :
"Old home of my childhood! Fond scenes of the past! How oft I am with you! What shadows ye cast Of objects familiar, and faces yet dear! Although ye are distant, ye ever seem near; E'en now in my fancy sweet faces I see, I listen to voices all music to me.
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD. .
Revisit each spot in life's morning I knew, Pray, am I in dreamland? If so, oh! how true! * * *
* * But the spot than all others more sacred to me, The one where, if prudent, I daily would be, Is that 'neath the willows which mournfully wave
O'er the dust of my parents. That spot is their grave. Aye, always, when backward my vision extends (Though dear the old homestead, and dearer old friends), My heart ever clings to the spot where they lie, 'Tis here I'd be buried at last when I die."
This little poem was written when absent from the home of his nativity, but the wish expressed in the last lines was realized, for we tenderly laid his "casket " "'neath the willows," close by the dust of the loved ones.
. No doubt, that which has attracted most attention, was the poem which appeared in the " Bangor Whig " of Sept., 1874, entitled, "Cor- nele's Tribute to the Memory of his Lamented Friend, the late David Barker, Esq." In order that its due value and merit may appear, I copy from the pen of David Barker, his poem, entitled, "Cornele " * which was written a short time previous to Mr. Barker's death.
I am sick and have left all my papers and laws, And am stopping awhile at this tavern of Shaw's; And I take what a prince or a monarch might get - Just the best of a meal, and an ars'nic pellet - And this fact should come in: I was here, you should know, When they opened this house, thirty-nine years ago. From the crowd that was here in that year, thirty-five, Not a soul do I find 'round this mansion alive, Not a man - not a one do I find here about, But the porter, " Cornele," and a judge with the gout. Famed " Cornele " with his brush for the boot or the blouse, All the world has regarded a part of the house. What a load he has lugged the world's baggage among! For the garrulous old and the jubilant young; And he boasts with a true Celtic pride of the touch He has put on the boots of a Webster, and such. And today, 'mid his books, right in earnest, not sport, I have talked on one point, with a Judge of our court - And he says that in spite of old statutes and creeds
* Cornelius Crowley, for thirty-nine years head porter at the Bangor House, and who died in 1875.
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD.
This " Cornele " should now pass by all subsequent deeds. When his last load is borne and the famed porter dies, I would carve on the slab at the spot where he lies:
" Here he sleeps, pardoned out from the last of his sin, Ever true to the faith of his priest and his kin." Had he faults? - let the world gossip round as it can - He has blacked, and has brushed, and has lugged like a man. How the dream chills my heart, how the thought makes me feel, That a breath may blow out the warm lamp of " Cornele," Leaving two, only two from that big ancient crowd, And those two peering round for the turf and the shroud. One, a pale, haggard bard - tottering out on his cane - And the other, the Judge on his hammock of pain.
Immediately upon his death, Mr. Parks, a great admirer of the poetry of Mr. Barker, wrote and published the following:
CORNELE'S TRIBUTE. To the memory of his Lamented Friend, the late David Barker, Esq.
BY O. T. P.
But a few weeks ago 'twas that Maine's sweetest bard In lines deep with feeling portrayed his regard For me - Old Cornele -Shaw's porter and black, Not dreaming of course that I'd e'er pay him back, Since he knew that, as Knight of the Brush and the Broom If I'd talent, I surely could never find room 'Mid my " shining and dusting and lugging " each day Such tribute except with these acts to repay. And I, when I read them, had never a thought Of penning their author in answer e'en aught; Nay; as he there hinted -so I could but feel That David might stand by the grave of Cornele; But Death's no respecter of persons nor trades, The Poet and Boot-black alike share his raids; So while I am left here to wait and to toil He's gone on before me, has shuffled life's coil : Has passed through the dark " Covered Bridge " which he built When in life, with his pen dipped in immortal gilt. As I pondered those lines, how my heart beat with pride To think that e'en one of the thousands I've tried To please with my labors, adown those long years, Should write for my comfort such words of good cheer; Should choose while he ranked 'mong the gifted of earth,
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Geo . H. Walker & Co Boston
Win 36 Wiggin
WILLIAM. H. WIGGIN. Esp.
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD.
To notice Cornele, but his servant by birth. Now the " Squire " was right - we both took a part In op'ning this house; were here at its start; He liv'ning the scene with his wit and his jokes, I toting the baggage and dusting the coats. I remember, as though but a week it had been, How the words that he spake, and the theme from his pen Brought comments of praise from the old and the young, E'en placing him then with distinction among The noblest of poets to humanity known. Aye, proud were the people that Maine was his home, And often since then as each Register shows Did he frequent our tavern; but time ne'er'll disclose The joy I experienced whenever he came - Indeed 'twas sweet music, the sound of his name. But he's paid his last visit, the Poet and Friend, His life though so precious has come to its end. He sleeps in the church yard, beneath the green sod, The casket -though David still lives with his God.
No more shall I wisp my wee broom o'er his suits, No more hand his baggage; no more shine his boots; No more clasp with pleasure his oft-proffered hand Till I too have entered the bright Summer-Land, Where I know I shall share e'en the best of his love 'Mid the throng of bright angels, that attend him above.
ELIPHALET PARKS, the father of O. T. Parks, was an easy writer and indulged in writing poetry of some merit, but none of it, as far as I know, appeared in print.
In this connection it is proper to speak of WILLIAM H. WIGGIN, EsQ., notice of whom is given by Mr. McIntire in his paper on " Lawyers of Parsonsfield," page 132. After graduating at the Law School at Ball- ston Spa, N. Y., he returned to Sanford and opened an office, where he remained for a time. He then went West, and the practice of law either not being congenial or lucrative, he abandoned it and engaged in contracting for tin roofing and iron cornice, being located at Palmyra, Mo., but traveling very extensively through the Western and Southern States. During the early years of the war he went to St. Louis and was selected one of the Mounted Guard for General Fremont, and accompanied him in his unfortunate expedition to Springfield, Mo. During his service he won the esteem of his officers and associates.
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD.
In the early part of 1871, he married Miss Lucy A. Mitchell, of St. Louis, a graduate of the St. Louis Normal School, and a lady of ability, who has won distinction in literary circles, and is noted as a teacher and a kind hearted philanthropist, having founded a free night school for working girls in St. Louis. This school she commenced with fifteen scholars, and doubled that number the first four weeks. In this city Mr. Wiggin made his home until his death, Nov. 30, 1879. He left one child, Ralph Mitchell Wiggin, born April 30, 1875.
Mr. Wiggin was retiring and reserved, yet in conversation engaging and easy. A grace and ease characterized his writings, both of prose and poetry. He was a very sharp critic of the writings of others - Shakespeare, Byron, Tom Moore, Longfellow, and others passed in review under his pen. He read everything understandingly, and could give a reasonable reason for his likes and dislikes, his admiration and his censure. Every sentence which he reviewed, of prose or poetry, was closely analyzed; every sham laid bare and every beauty brought forth. Of his poetry, we have but little, as most of it was written after he became a resident of the Western States. While at Palmyra, Mo., he wrote and delivered a poem before the Library Asso- ciation of that town, consisting of 950 lines, which was received with much applause and was regarded a perfect success.
In politics he was a. Whig, and later a Republican, early advocating the principle of universal suffrage. He scorned slavery, and detested ignorance. He asserted that by right every person should be free and educated, and every such person should assert the elective franchise. He had a wonderful intuitive knowledge of human nature, and formed very correct estimates of public men, as well as of those with whom he was by business relations brought in contact. The large family to which he belonged are all gone, he being the last but one.
MRS. MELISSA (TOWLE) SHORES, of Bridgewater, Mass., who was pre- ceptress at North Parsonsfield Seminary, while under the care of Prof. George H. Ricker, a lady of culture and ability, and a native of our town, has written considerable for magazines and newspapers, under a fictitious name, both prose aud poetry. In 1850, a book was pub- lished in Manchester, N. H., entitled " Gems for you, from New Hamp- shire Authors," in which one of her early poems appears. As a writer, she richly merits more than this passing notice.
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD.
MRS. LUCY (MOULTON) PERRY, of Portland, also a native, has written poetry for some years which has appeared from time to time in news- papers and periodicals. The following poem was furnished by her to to be read at our centennial, entitled
A TRIBUTE TO OUR SOLDIERS.
When o'er the hills, where erst sweet breezes sang, War's direful notes of preparation rang From broad Atlantic to Pacific's strand, And Death's grim angel hovered o'er the land; When burst hoarse thunders from the cannon's mouth,
In grim defiance from the "sunny South; "
And war's deep rolling echoes sounding forth, Aroused the legions of the " loyal North; "
Our sons with willing heart and ready hand, Joined the defenders of their native land With fixed resolve the country should be free, Preserved forever - Union - Liberty. Brave sons of noble sires, whose iron will Won victory at Lexington and Bunker Hill, Who through long years of hardship and of pain, With faith and courage fought the right to gain.
What know we of their sufferings and distress, Of toilsome march and bitter loneliness, Of wounds and weary hours in prison cell Nobly endured in silence - who can tell? Whether he falls as by a lightning's flash, In a swift onset, and the battles crash ; Or lingering years of weariness and pain, -- Who dies for Freedom never dies in vain.
In loyal hearts their memories never fade, In springtime laurel wreaths are o'er them laid; No winter's snow - nor change - nor time can mar The love which follows where our soldiers are. From realms where sentries guard the far out-post Of the Grand Army's fast increasing host, And sweetly sounding, as a vesper bell, Echoes the heavenly password - " All is well."
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD.
A sister of hers, MRS. MARY (MOULTON) HILL of Sandwich N. H., contributed the following for our centennial exercises.
" ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO."
One Hundred years sends greeting to " A Hundred years Ago," Across the shadowy lapse of time, our hearts with tender glow, Remember those who lived and loved " A Hundred years ago."
From distant homes these fathers came to rear an altar here, To light anew their household fires, and work with will and cheer Amid eternal solitudes still other homes to rear.
For only just behind them were cruel years of pain, Of deadly strife and bloodshed, as they sought their rights to gain, And cast off all the shackles of the Britton's lordly reign.
On many vales and hilltops their ancient homes were made. Their household fires gleamed warm and bright along the forests' shade. Upon these breezy hillsides their sleeping forms are laid.
We trace these ancient ruins with fern and brier lined, Where rose the clan to daily toil, with voice of song entwined, The thistle nods its head, and voices whisper in the wind.
And all adown the century, the little mounds we see Of those, the brave, the good, the true, who fought for you and me; And gave the greatest gift of all - their lives to make us free.
We greet those sturdy heroes who walked these hills of yore, While thousands celebrate this day recall the names they bore, We greet with song and blessing their memories once more.
And we with tender pathos remember these today. We talk of old time faces; of men and matrons gray, Whose span of life long since complete, passed up " the shining way."
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And we, their children's children have roamed in every land, Down where the southern cross gleams bright, on prairies broad and grand, And where the orient zephers blow, and Arctic's frozen strand -
And all around on sea and land, great changes have been wrought, The old time creeds have softened down from what our fathers taught, And minds have grasped new wonders from out the realm of thought.
And when the rolling years have told a century away, And we in silent blissful sleep are resting from the fray, May other thousands gather here, and celebrate this day.
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HISTORY OF PARSONSFIELD.
We would speak favorably of another daughter of this town, MRS. ISADORE (PARKER) MERRILL, whose verses have found their way quite frequently into print, but the poem selected by the "committee on pro- gramme" for the occasion, and published page 126, being from her pen, must suffice.
FRANK HERBERT PEASE, a graduate from Tufts College, and a native of this town, has written quite extensively in verse, and furnished the centennial hymn, which was sung to the tune of " Sessions." For one who has a special adaptation for the work, to write a poem on a subject as broad as a century's rise, and growth and changes, with the privilege of occupying as much space as he may choose, is not a difficult task ; but when limited to twenty or twenty four lines, it becomes a very dif- ferent affair indeed. The writing of hymns judging by the few pro- duced by our best poets, is not easy of accomplishment. Mr. Pease is a young man of ability, and if circumstances would allow him to devote his time and thought to the subject of poetry, he would, we doubt not, win distinction.
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