USA > Maine > Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary > Part 31
USA > New Hampshire > Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary > Part 31
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Now Barney, the viol player, had brought his dinner of cakes seasoned with carraway seeds, and took advantage of the intermission to put his instru- ment in tune for the evening service. It had become so used to the one piece of music that when once the strings were in chord the old thing would almost go alone; a touch of the bow in the hand of the practised performer and she responded promptly and melodiously. When the "airly meetin' folks" reached the vestry their ears were saluted by the hoarse drone of Barney's viol overhead.
Unknown to the congregation, Ransum Edwards had taken affront because of the interruption of Elder Hardhack when the singers became entangled in "Old Bridgewater" at the afternoon service, and determined to pay them back in the evening. He was in his place, as usual, waiting in hateful anticipation for what he supposed would nearly upset the whole ser- vice. Evidently some occult power, known only to the laws of psychology, had developed a presentiment in the mind of one Elder Readyman, who was . to have charge of the evening services. After much shouting to horses with- out, and stamping of feet within, the congregation settled down to silence and-the brethren began to groan. Soon as the "sparit moved," Elder Readyman announced that he sometimes led the congregational singing in
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his own meetings and invited the people present to "jine in singing " the familiar hymn beginning with the words, "Go preach my gospel saith the Lord." Now this elder had been in early years a teacher of simple music; was possessed of a voice of great compass and charming flexibility. Feeling fully competent to conduct the singing, he raised the "key-note " and grandly was he supported by those old-fashioned saints, many of whom had been his pupils in former years. If ever two men were astonished, then Ransum Edwards and Barney Slocum were. The former sat sulky and silent, but the latter, not to be outdone, stood forth at the front gallery and sawed away with all his might; the grum, deep sound of the viol, rising now and then above the voices below, forming an excellent accompaniment to the vocal perform- ances of the singers in the congregation. Indeed, Barney's arm seemed to have been moved by the Spirit so that his old instrument gave forth no dis- cordant sound. At any rate, the music was rousing and sublime, and the whole subsequent service received such an impulse of inspiration that all spiritual bearings were lubricated, all devotions ran smoothly, and the whole wound up with shouts of victory.
As no one seemed to have "the word," Elder Readyman said the meeting would be a sociable one, and in a rousing exhortation admonished the " breth- ring and sistering to come up to the help o' the Lard agin the mighty; agin the mighty, my beloved breth-ring-ah."
For a brief space an awful silence reigned; it seemed to hang like a thick cloud over all; it was, properly speaking, "waiting for the angel to come and trouble the pool"; otherwise, "waiting for the moving of the Sparit." At length a terrible groan, solemn and savoring of the nether regions, escaped from Deacon Steadfast; this knocked all the keys out, and the "odor of sanc- tity " began to rise like invisible incense. Sighs and groans were now heard from various pews; they were getting up steam and an escape valve must be opened somewhere, and that right early. Clear the track! Old Sister Spin- dletree led the van in singing :
"How happy is the man who has chosen wisdom's ways!"
Her head was in the rear end of an enormous churn bonnet, overhung by the ample folds of a green baize veil. The ivory keys of her vocal organ were nearly all absent, and her voice, like the wind at night when sporting with a hemlock splinter on the boarding of the farm-house, sharp, rasping, and ear- splitting. As soon as she had fairly "got the bitts in her teeth " and was in the highway of melody, the members of the congregation began to file into line, like geese in the air, at the voice of their leader, while their discordant notes resembled the figure of their flight. All the same, the old lady had the inside track, and made good time down through all the curves of the stanza; and such was the marvelous reserve force with which she seemed to be
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invested, that, with scarcely a moment's pause to take breath, she dashed across the vacant space and struck boldly and with accelerated speed into the next verse. Finding it to be an unequal race, many of the singers fell out by the way, while a few bold spirits pressed nobly forward, though far in the rear, to the end of the hymn.
Eloquent silence. Startling groans.
"Help, Lard !"
"Du, Lard!"
"Hem! Ahem!"
"Ah-r-r-r! Oh!"
"Improve the time, breth-ring."
At this stage a heavy, thumping sound, suggestive of thick boots, was heard in a wing pew; it was Deacon Pilkins falling down before the "marcy seat." While there is an impressive, anticipatory hush over the congregation, we may as well introduce Deacon Pilkins. He was a good man of his kind, but known far and wide for his eccentricity of manners and speech when engaged in devotion ; in consequence of this fame, the more fastidious and precise who were present nearly lost their breath when he knelt to pray or rose to address the people. One could never foretell what strange thing might happen; what thunderbolt of expression might fall from his mouth. He was a man whose language, when addressing his Master, indicated great familiarity and absolute confidence; indeed, he talked to Him as a man con- verseth with his friend face to face. He it was, when on his way to the "gineral meetin'," who saw before him in the way a piece of glassy ice, and knowing that his mare was "smooth shod " and likely to fall when she reached this dangerous place, deemed it wisdom to apply the lash, and thus, by in- creasing speed, peradventure she might pass over sure-footed. Alas! he was doomed to disappointment and disaster, for she went down, and the deacon kept on until his face came in contact with the shelly ice, which terribly lac- erated his ponderous nose and split his nether lip. Filled with the most keen- edged anger that ever drove grace out of a good man's heart, he climbed upon his knees, and passing his hand across his marred visage and finding it covered with blood, he sang out, "Now, Lard, I look pretty to go to a gineral meetin', don't I?" Looking upon this accident as a temptation of the devil and being determined to gain the victory, the heroic old deacon pushed forward and was present at the opening session. But his great face, never noted for its beauty, was so badly disfigured that he could scarcely crucify his pride sufficiently to mortify the flesh in appearing at the front. Besides, his mouth was so swollen that he found it difficult to speak; this had been exceedingly trying, and now, having improved somewhat, the deacon would be heard from, "hit or miss," and he was.
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Bend an ear toward the wing-pew and it will be filled. Listen to the voice of prayer.
"O-o-o-o Lard! Thy sarvant's been a-thinkin' 'bout the ka-lamity that befell him while on the way tu the gineral meetin', he has; been lookin' on it over'n me mind, Lard; been considerin' thet 'twas the device of the arch inimy to keep thy sarvant away. But he couldn't do it. Hal-la-lu-yah ! Couldn't do it, could he. Lard? No, no. I'm on the ground, bless the Lard ! But, Lard, I've been afeared I give way to me passion when I fell on the ice up'n Windom, I hev; and me spirit's been dreffully bow-ed down durin' the gineral meetin'; clouds an' thick darkness bruded over me. Lard, if I done wrong, pardon thy sarvant; hev marcy, du. Give me wisdom tu guide the ole mare on me way home; interpose, Lard; don't let her fall down and cause thy sarvant to utter on-lawful words, I beseech of thee. Bless the gineral meetin'; pour down of thy Sparit; melt the hearts o' the rebellious sons and darters o' men; put 'em into the ark o' safe-ty and shut 'em in, Lard. Take kere o' me ole lady ter home; keep her stidfast ontu the eend. A-men."
"Amen" from the leader, who then calls for the hymn beginning with the line: "'Tis the old ship o' Zion, Hallelujah!" Lazarus Junkins pitched the tune with his voice of "tenor." Abram Thrasher and Darkis Dascomb fell in with "counter " and "tribble," while such as the other brethren and sisters had they freely bestowed, until the place was filled with a solemn sound. Now the tide began to rise and the brethren grew responsive; even old Sister Primrose over in a corner, with a voice as slender as a pipe stem, cried out, "A-min."
"Improve the time, breth-ring."
Suppressed groans.
Solomon Singletree rises to exhort. Hark ! He was powerfully wrought upon by the Spirit; he trembled: his teeth fairly chattered ; his voice was wet with emotion ; tears gushed down the furrows of his face. Placing one hand over his ear-as was the custom in those days-and turning his eyes upward, he opened his mouth wide-it was a wide mouth -Solomon's -and pro- ceeded to say :
"My deah breth-ring and sist-ring, 'tis an awful cross for me to rise afore ye. The ole inimy, he's been a-tellin' me I better keep still-ah; thet I couldn't eddify; but, my breth-er-ing, if I can't eddify I can mortify-ah. An' I thought, my breth-er-ing an' sist-er-ing, that to obey was better nor sacrifice-ah. I wanted ye tu know I was on the Lard's side-ah; that I was persuin' the jarney to win the crown-ah, that's laid up yender for all who du run well-ah. My breth-ring and sist-ring, we have borne the burden in the heat o' the day, and travilled for souls, but when Zion travils she will bring forth 'cordin' to the Scriptures, she will-ah. Let us, my breth-ring, put on the whole armor; let us fight the good fight o' faith-ah, havin' on the hel-i-mit
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o' salvation, an' the brist-plate of righ-teous-ness. Press forrud, my breth- ring; we shall sune git ayont the bow-shot of the inimy-ah; where the wicked cease from troublin', and the weary are at rest. I wanted to come down to the gineral meetin' to look inter yer faces once more, my breth-ring -ah. Now, here's my hart an' here's my han', tu meet you in that hivenly land-ah."
" Amen, Amen, A-marn."
" A little while longer here below, then home to glory we shall go," was struck by Sister Slow.
" Amen !"
"Improve the time, breth-ring."
In a wing pew a little, sharp-faced woman, heavily draped in black, rose, and after a long struggle to overcome the rising tide of emotion that broiled up in her throat, in a fine-spun, whistling voice, said:
"Since I last met wi'ye in gineral meeting I'v seen deep sorrer, my deah breth-ring and sist-ring, having lost my deah companion; yes, the billers hev rolled over me, an' now I'm left a poor, forsaken, widderless woman with my family of faitherless children to kear for. My sparit's weigh-ed down, an' I weep day and night in my lone-li-ness, but I know that He who hears the young ravens cry will provide for me an' my chil-der-en. Oh-ho-ho-ho."
Deep-drawn sighs and handkerchiefs from several sisters.
Heavy groans from Deacons Steadfast and Pilkins.
"Let the time be improved."
An aged brother, whose trembling voice had not been heard, now leans upon his staff and with great pathos delivers his testimony. His words were very impressive:
"I was a very vain, on-bridled youth in the mornin' of life, an' made light of all good. Though from time to time the Sparit strived with me young heart, I would say, 'Go thy way for this time and when I have a con- vanient season I will call for thee.' I thought I was too young, my breth-ring, and so procrastinated, procrastinated, till I found procrastination was the thief of Time. I was in a meetin' one evenin' and the convicting Sparit found me, but I wouldn't yield; it follered me home and moved me to bow down with me father and mother, but I wouldn't yield; it follered me tu me room and tu me bed and prevented sleep and slumber, but I wouldn't submit to the still, small voice within. In the mornin' I went away to the barn and fell down upon the straw and cried to the Lard for marcy, and there, my breth-ring, my soul was delivered. My goin' was 'stablish-ed, an' a new song put into me mouth; the fields broke forth into singin' and all the trees clap-ed their hands, my breth-ring. I've made meny crooked paths; hev wandered into by and forbidden ways; have been a show traveler, but I wish Mount Zion well-ah. Remember me when it's well with you, my breth-ring."
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" Amen," from Elder Readyman.
In a moment up jumped old Deacon Butternut, and raising his hand high above his shining, bald head, yelled out, "Glary! Glary! Glary!" Then pausing to overcome his emotion, he screamed out, "Yes, yes, my breth-ring, religion's good for young men, middle-aged men, and old wimmin like me."
The ministers looked grave.
The deacons groaned.
The delegates looked at the ministers.
The sisters didn't know what to do.
The spiritual barometer fell.
Silence was becoming a burden.
Something must be done to break the spell.
It was a moment of dreadful suspense.
Lazarus Junkins came to the rescue with a rousing hymn, beginning with the comforting words,
"Even down to old age all my people shall prove," etc.
This bridged the awful chasm and to the close of the service a joyful spirit prevailed. At the close of the meeting there were great demonstrations of affection among the members, but poor old Deacon Butternut stood aloof, feeling "as though he'd said suthin' on-lawful or a leetle out o' jint." Poor brother! It was only a "slip of the tongue," only a slight mistake, harmless, but not easy to rectify. Let it pass.
On the Sabbath the time was devoted to regular public service ; preaching in the forenoon and afternoon by the "big guns.".
Barney was at his post, accompanied by his grum-voiced instrument, ready to serve and be honored. Personally, he looked the embodiment of dignity and repose. A remarkably calm Indian summer atmosphere, like a halo, enveloped his high-crowned head. Meekness, like a pair of blue doves, roosted in his squinting orbs. Somehow, he felt that his services on such occasions were indispensable. Substantial remuneration was seldom realized, but the honor-the honor-was all-comforting and satisfactory. He and his roomy viol had been long together, and seemed to be mutually helpful. The instru- ment had a voice that never failed to respond to the summons of its owner; this, to Barney, was like an attribute of life, and by long association he came to regard the whole musical structure as little less than human. Although he always applied the feminine designations, "she " and "her," to the instrument, its burly proportions and deep bass voice were significantly masculine. It was amusing to see him remove the green worsted covering, and to observe the evident solicitude with which he scrutinized every part. He would gently groom her portly front and rub on cosmetique to improve her complexion; would fondly caress her graceful neck and pass his delicate fingers over her
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sensitive nerves when coaxing her into tune; and when, by patient persuasion, he had evoked a harmony of chords, and touched her with his magic wand, she quivered and palpitated with excitability as if enamored of her master. Barney, meanwhile, had a dreamy, far-away, listening expression in his eyes, like one who was hearing an echo somewhere above. The more venerable she became, the more mellow and rich her voice. Many a set of strings had been worn out and replaced by new ones, but every time she had been thus rehabilitated, to Barney she was rejuvenated and made "as good as new." Alas! frail as she was, Barney preceded in dissolution, and she was present at his obsequies draped with the sombre emblems of sorrow, the chief but silent mourner. For many years she remained under sackcloth, her appear- ance dejected and melancholy; but when these days had passed, she emerged from retirement, softened and subdued by rest, and responded with sonorous melody to the touch of the long-disused bow in the hand of her master's son and successor, who had inherited some of his musical proclivities. When last seen she was well preserved; and although her nervous force was somewhat depleted, yet, if touched by the inspiring bow to the old familiar tune, "Fire on the mountains, run, boys, run," like an old war horse, she would smell the battle from afar, and spring to action with all the resounding sprightliness of her youth. Whether numbered with existing things, or relegated to the decom- posing elements, we know not; but may we not indulge the hope, that some- time, somehow, somewhere, these two old friends, Barney and his tuneful viol, may be reunited to join in the pæans of praise and thanksgiving in that angel- ical choir "where congregations ne'er break up and Sabbaths never end."
We have now reached the last evening of the "gineral meetin'," and our story will soon be told. The interest and enthusiasm had increased from the opening session. Those who could not leave their business during the week had listened to reports from their neighbors that had stimulated a desire to attend, which grew apace until the Sabbath dawned; and on this last great day of the feast the people came from near and far, and the house was filled to overflowing. The sermons during the day had been preached by Hubbard Chandler and Clement Phinney. The night was dark and cloudy, and it was with difficulty that belated travelers could keep the road.
On three sides of the great meeting-house were rows of sturdy posts connected by rails to which the horses were hitched. When all had been comfortably seated within and the services had begun, the rude boys of the village, impelled by an innocent exuberance of animal life, bent upon mischief, called a council which sat behind board piles, and, after a somewhat hurried consideration of the pending issues, came to this decision, namely: that, dur- ing the whole series of meetings they had behaved with becoming decorum, both at home and in the house of worship; that, while the old brethren had enjoyed themselves remarkably well, the wishes of the younger people had
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been unwarrantably ignored; that, they must now give vent to their feelings or "bust"; hence, it would be nothing more than fair, that on this, their last opportunity, some harmless amusement should be extracted from the occasion. A plan of operation was quickly matured, and, though not without objection- able features, and attended with danger to the aggressive parties, it was carried out to a finish. We assume to say that many an anxious father and mother wondered where their sons were while listening to the prayers, exhor- tations, and singing within, and that the question, "Where are all the boys to-night?" was silently asked by many.
Now the execution of the project is begun. Two wary fellows were stationed at the meeting-house doors, as guards, to warn their associates if danger was imminent. Beginning at the first team on the east side of the house, the horses were all quietly disconnected from the sleighs, pungs, and sleds, and made to change places, until, with one or two exceptions where the color would not admit of it, not a beast stood where his owner had left him when entering the meeting-house. To sum up, everybody had "swapped horses" without any knowledge of the fact. To some the exchange would have proved an advantage; to others, of course, a "bad bargain." Brethren who came with a white horse went away with one of that color. He who left a black horse at the hitching-post found a black horse there when the services closed; the same with the prevailing colors of red and gray. Now, the work must not end here. Bells were tell-tale things, and if left upon the horses to which they belonged, might expose the whole scheme. Every man in those days was familiar with the tone of his own sleigh-bells; the sagacious boys knew this, and used the necessary precautions. The string of bells found about the neck of the horse of Deacon Pilkins was carefully removed and buckled upon the horse connected with his sleigh; this principle was applied to all. The service was continued until a late hour. No prowling sexton was about to hinder the work of exchange, and the whole affair was completed without observation. But the culminating point had not been reached ; it was not reached on that occasion. However, the boys were full of interest when contemplating what might be discovered when the teams were led to the meeting-house door; these spectators retired within the shadows. There were no lanterns to throw intrusive light upon what was passing; there was no light but the flickering tallow dip, shielded from the wind by the hand of the old sexton in such a way that not a ray reached the horses and sleighs at the platform. One by one the long procession filed along and left the place on their way to-somebody's home. The end was not reached. One man had reasons for believing all was not well before he had driven far. Only a few rods from the meeting-house the carriage road turned "square to the right." The rein on the "off side" of Hiram Jordan's horse had been tied fast to the saddle turret, through which it passed, with a waxed-end; and
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pull hard or pull soft, it made no impression upon the horse's head; it only guided the saddle. As a result of this cunning arrangement of the harness the horse went straight forward and came to an abrupt halt against a board fence by the road-side.
"What on airth's the marter with ole Doll?"
Hiram disentangled himself from the wrappers and fumbled about in the darkness. He goes to his (?) horse's head and finds the rein properly con- nected with the bitt; he traces it to the saddle, but fails to discover anything "outer gear." Turning the horse into the road, he took his seat, put on the string, and away they went due east. But "ole Doll" didn't seem to drive as free as usual. After standing in the cold for three hours, she was "in the habit of goin' home like thunder," as Hiram said. When they had reached the Gammon cross-roads, Hiram's mare should have turned again to the right, but though he pulled with all his strength she kept straight on and carried the party nearly a half mile, even to the foot of Elwell's hill, before he could stop her.
"What in thunder's the trouble with ole Doll?" ejaculated Hiram.
Again he got down and examined the harness ; all appeared regular. Leading the stubborn animal back to the road corner, he steered her towards home once more, put on the white oak, yelled, "Her-dap, ole Doll," and went forward. The end-was not yet. The house of Hiram Jordan was situated on the right side of the road "as ye go down," and approached by a narrow lane. "Ole Doll" used to prick up her tail and ears when she reached this point and dash down to the door-yard upon the "clean garlup." Strange to say, she moved moderately "forruds " on this occasion and ceased not till she had reached Hardscrabble hill.
"What in the name o' common sense ails ole Doll?"
Once more Hiram seizes the bridle, and with many a jerk and the use of words not proper to utter he led the animal to the door-stone, and there gave orders for Abram to light the "barn lanthern" immediately and follow him (Hiram) to the stable. "Twas done as commanded, and there, behind closed doors, the twofold mystery was solved. First, the reason why old Doll wouldn't mind the rein ; second, that it was not "ole Doll," but a high-boned gelding of uncertain age that answered to the name of "Bill," and belonged to- whom? But there was a greater mystery yet unsolved. "How came that hoss in Hiram's sleigh and where, O where, was ole Doll?" Misery likes company, so the old folks used to say, and Hiram Jordan was not the only man who sat gazing into the expiring embers till a late hour, wondering what unearthly power had spirited away their favorite horses, and why a strange beast had "strayed or stolen" between the "fills" of their sleighs. Now Hiram Jor- dan's "ole Doll " was not possessed of an amiable temper; she would lay her great ears back, show the white of her wicked eyes, and snap her teeth like
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a steel trap. It proved that she had fallen into the hands of old Brother Makepeace, from Raymond Gore, who had been entertained under the shel- tering "ruff" of 'Lias Graypole. Now it came to pass that "ole Doll" did not take kindly to her changed conditions; did not relish the idea of being driven in a direction directly opposite to that which led to her well-filled man- ger on a cold night like this; and on the way she gave emphasis to her dis- composure by switching her sprig tail vehemently and by going at a gait never before thought of by old Brother Makepeace, who shut his square jaws together, braced his feet against the fender, and held on like taxes. When there was a little lull in her speed, when ascending a steep acclivity, Brother Makepeace would take a long breath and exclaim: "Never, never, n-e-v-e-r, in all my born days, did I ever know old Bill to go like this. Why, he seems possess-ed with the div-vle." But before the words were fairly out of his mouth there was business ahead to be attended to, and "old Doll was goin' of it" like the wind-against the wind-toward 'Lias Graypole's. But the end was not yet. Reining this frenzied, four-footed cyclone into the door-yard, Brother Makepeace, all out of breath, shouted, "Whoa!" and "old Doll" whoaed. Danger was now imminent. Beware! my old brother, beware! "Them thet knows no danger fears no danger." After helping his portly consort out, the trembling, unsuspecting old man approached the head of old Bill, and with gentle and soothing voice kept repeating, "Whoa, Bill ! whoa, Bill!" Look out there! Snort-snap. "Whoa, ye ole fool!" Poor Brother Makepeace runs for the barn. At this moment 'Lias Graypole drives down to the door just in time to hear the voice of his venerable and much-respected guest, screaming from the open barn door :
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