Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary, Part 35

Author: Ridlon, Gideon Tibbetts, 1841- [from old catalog]
Publication date: 1895
Publisher: Portland, Me., The author
Number of Pages: 1424

USA > Maine > Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary > Part 35
USA > New Hampshire > Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary > Part 35

Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).

These old barristers were mostly hard headed, and the "brass " in their composition had been well hammered in by forensic contact. They were good feeders; enlarged their waistbands and took pride in their circumference. Their nerves were keyed up to the fighting pitch, and their appearance was calculated to "squinch " the courage of a witness or crush a less formidable opponent. They wore coats of snuff color or royal blue, and waistcoats double-breasted, broad, and solemn; to say nothing of velvet breeches, small clothes, and silver knee-buckles. Their wit was always filed to a point when going to court, and a fresh stock of irony and sarcasm was laid in. When off duty, after their cases had been tried, they assembled around the old tavern hearth-stone, and joked and laughed and fired squibs at each other; they exposed their own deception, and told how their sophistry had pointed the lance of argument. But they were men of judicial erudition and acumen, who have not been succeeded by their superiors.

When the sheriff came with his handcuffed prisoner, and led him to a seat in the wayside tavern, human nature in its most perverted character man- ifested itself. All eyes were turned upon him, until, poor fellow, whether guilty or innocent, he was made to feel that he was an outcast and a culprit. Where self-control and a delicate and compassionate sense of propriety should have ruled the hour, the unfortunate man became an object of scorn and disdain.

Here also was found the robust farmer, who was on his way to market, and who ate his dinner from his well-filled box at the fireside; while the moc- casined teamsters talked to each other about "them cattle" and the condition of the roads, the puttering peddler discoursed about his various articles of trade.

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We must not pass without notice one of the most picturesque characters in the whole group; we mean the early stage-driver, the well-informed story- teller, the royal good fellow and general favorite who had safely brought the travelers to the old tavern. But as we are to draw his picture in another place we take leave of him here.

We were writing of taverns and landlords; where are we now? Along the wall-side was a long assemblage of top-coats, hats, woolen neck-comforters, and in a corner a stack of whips and goad-sticks prudently brought within doors. The great, pronounced-ticking clock was measuring off the hours as they passed, while the flashing, flickering fire-light threw grotesque shadows upon the wainscoting. And still the tide of story, the political discussion, and the legal argument flowed on.

Let us step across the hall-way and take a peep into the fore-room, as the parlor was then called. Behold, here is the landlady, rightly named, to be sure, rosy-cheeked, white-capped, beruffled, rotund, full-skirted, bustling, dear old darling, who understood her art to pecfection, busy entertaining her guests. A delightful body, bubbling with cheerfulness, intelligent, quick to apprehend, graceful in speech, and full of old-fashioned politeness, she never allowed the conversation to fall into the quicksand of monotony, but diversified the themes and wove in gold and silver threads with cheerful flowers of rhetoric.

But the fires have burned low and the glowing brands have dropped apart. The tall clock has faithfully performed its task and now measuredly counts the hour of ten.

"But sleep at last the victory won; They must be stirring with the sun, And drowsily good-night they said, And went, still gossiping, to bed."

The fires are "raked up" and the great live coals buried in the bank of ashes. The rattle of shovel and tongs is followed by the bolting of doors, and all is soon still about the old tavern save the loud-ticking clock and the creaking sign-board without. Heavy-winged sleep hovers over the judge, the magis- trate, the merchant, and the farmer; and this mysterious balm for human cares, so like an experiment with death, repairs the wasted tissue and invig- orates the frame.

The wakeful crower on the cross-beam sees the skirmishers of the morn- ing coming over the eastern hill-tops, and dutifully sounds his clarion to arouse the weary wayfarers and challenge the approaching day. The fires are rekindled upon the still warm hearths, the grooms are about the stables dis- bursing hay and provender, and the busy cook within her kitchen adroitly turns her spitting pancakes and sputtering eggs in the fry-pan. Madam, meanwhile, trips lightly about the long table, laying plates for her early-risen customers, and as, one by one, they are seated at the bountiful board she

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pours the fragrant coffee, and her cordial "good-morning" and beaming countenance were appetizing condiments.

"All ready !" "Passengers for Arundel, old York, and Strawberry Bank, get ready !" shouts the stage-driver, as he reins his prancing horses to the door. All is now hurry and bustle, but they will be on time. There were no railway trains to meet, no danger from being too late. Landlord and lady assist the departing guests with great-coat and cape, each is well and warmly wrapped about, crack ! goes the whip,

"'Farewell!' the portly landlord cried, 'Farewell! ' the parting guests replied,"

and the clanging bells and groaning runners on the frozen track tell that the wayfarers are away on their journey.

When left alone, the landlord and wife sit down and count their shillings; they exchange congratulations, she hums a hymn, he jingles his "siller" and whistles a merry tune while waiting for the returning mail coach.

Sometimes a terrible storm of snow came on; the roads were blockaded, and for days together the old-time tavern was filled with waiting pilgrims. These were seasons of special interest to the-landlord. But he used all his arts to console his restless guests, and as they looked from the windows upon a buried world, and heard the roaring of the unabated storm, he would say : " Be at home, gentlemen ; be at home; it will soon clear away." On such occasions the nervous man would fret and chafe, while those of phlegmatic tendency continued to make the best of what could not be helped, ate apples, smoked the "pipe of peace," told old stories over again, and laughed as loud as when the roads were clear.

At these early taverns notices were posted, committees met, and coun- cillors held court. They were the news centres and the daily paper in its embryo condition. But the world has moved on, the screaming iron horse has crowded the rumbling mail coach from the old coach road, travel has been diverted, the creaking sign-board has fallen, the kind old landlord is deceased, and the old-fashioned tavern is only now a memory, an institution of the past.

The first keeper of an "ordinary" or place for entertaining strangers on the Saco was also the licensed ferryman from 1654 to 1673; his name was Henry Waddock. This may have been, probably was, the first tavern opened in the Saco valley. He was succeeded by Thomas Haley, and he by Hum- phrey Scammon, who purchased the property in 1679, and ran the ferry-boat, and "kept" the ordinary. This ferry was subsequently conducted by Amos Chase and Robert Patterson, and we suppose they also put up travelers.

Among old-time landlords remembered by some residents now living, are mentioned Jere. Gordon and John Cleaves, who flourished when their houses were the headquarters of the country stage-drivers.

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We do not know who opened the first public house in Buxton, but do know that John Garland, Zachariah Usher, and Ebenezer Wentworth were innholders as early as 1798-1800. The Garland tavern became a place of considerable note. It was situated on the right side of the road leading from the meeting-house at the "Old Corner " to Salmon Falls, and for many years was a favorite resort for the most respectable and prominent people of the county. Of the tavern and family who resided there the following has been related : "Madam Garland was known as one of the best cooks of the time, and her eight daughters were no less skilled in this useful but much neglected art. It was not alone the famous bowls of punch, the mugs of flip and samp- son, and the choicest viands of the forest, as well as what the Portland market afforded, that always found the most fashionable young men there, as reference to the record of marriages will show." Mrs. Garland was a good-natured lady of the old school of fashion, and often found time, among her multi- plicity of duties, to play the odd game with her daughters. "Joan" was the pride and life of the household, and a particular favorite of all who knew her. She had a kind word for every sorrowful heart. Aunt Susie Merrill said she was "a gay duck and the prettiest rosy-cheeked girl I ever saw." Parson Coffin knew how to lay aside his clerical robes and enjoy the social qualities of life with his neighbors. By special invitation of Madam Garland he visited her family on a Monday, a day in olden times when ladies were not ashamed to work. Joan was tugging and sweating over the wash-tub in the heat of July. The parson was quietly ushered into the parlor, and it was gracefully announced to Joan that Cad. Gray, her "spark," had come. While she was busy with her toilet, the parson, with assisters, carried the tub with its contents into the parlor and placed it upon two chairs; and when Joan stepped softly in to greet her lover, she found the parson, with coat off and sleeves rolled up, busiły engaged in finishing her washing. She instantly saw that she was euchred, and one ejaculation fell from her lips: "Never, never, will I do any more washing in this house!" She faithfully kept her vow, and the good parson soon made the following record: " 1789, Sept. 6, Cadwallader Gray & Joanna Garland both of Buxton."

At this tavern the proprietors of the township held meetings; here referees met for consultation, and here lawsuits were ended. The place was near Par- son Coffin's meeting-house, and old men told how some of his hearers used to visit the tavern for an "eye-opener" at the noon-time intermission. On stormy days and autumn evenings, the Lanes, Woodmans, Merrills, and Hancocks, heroes of the Revolution, would toast their shins, tell of their hardships, and fight their battles over again. Sometimes the mug of flip became too potent, and the hilarious company too noisy for the ears of Madam Garland, and she would intimate that it was time to close the doors, when the company would disperse and go " wallowing hame."

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Colonel Berry kept a public house at the old corner, so-called, in Buxton, for many years; a very popular house it was, where the Saco stage-drivers changed horses and dined. A large hall was connected with the tavern, and the place became a favorite resort for dancing parties and evening dinners.

At Salmon Falls, Ben. Warren long kept an old-fashioned tavern, and the old house is still standing at the east of the bridge. Paul Coffin mentions taking dinner at Warren's tavern, and calls it a "poor " one; but I am inclined to think this house was at North Hollis, possibly the old John Benson place, where a public house was kept at an early day. Paul Coffin was on a mis- sionary journey, and would not have dined within a mile of his own home at Salmon Falls.

A public house was opened at Bar Mills at an early day, and was con- ducted at one time by Daniel Darrah.

Albert Bradbury ran a hotel at Bog Mill for several years in the old-fash- ioned, two-storied house now standing there, since owned by Levi Rounds. At this house Joseph Bickford, the stage-driver, changed horses.

The well and widely-known "brick tavern," at North Hollis, otherwise called "Sweat's tavern," was built by Moses Sweet, Esq., and conducted by him for many years. He sold to Col. Nicholas Ridlon. While he was proprietor, this house was well patronized. Mrs. Ridlon was a lively, entertaining land- lady, who was popular at her well-supplied table. The building of railroads and consequent removal of the stage lines left the old-time taverns " out in the cold," and their patronage so far declined that many of the creaking sign- boards were taken down and their doors closed to travelers.

At Moderation, Albion Strout carried on the public house and stabling business on Hollis side of the Saco river for several years. I think he was succeeded by William Sherman, who sold to Timothy Tarbox as early as 1848. The latter kept open house here many years. Here the Saco stage horses were changed at the time Bill Berry was driving, and many years subsequently. Mr. Tarbox was a cheerful, lively-spirited landlord, who kept a roaring open fire burning on his office hearth. He was a noisy person about the stable, and could be heard shouting to the horses all through the neighborhood. That broad corner room has echoed to the clang of lusty laughter on many a winter night, while the storm without roared, and the sharp sleet rattled against the window-panes. When "Jace " Wakefield, "Elce" Guilford and the loud- laughing John Eastman called in for an hour with hilarious Timothy, the land- lord, one might prudently undo the waistbands for the well-seasoned stories told, and the humorous jokes hurled about the hearth-stone were enough to disturb the dead. Sometimes Uncle "Ike" Townsend would drop in to moisten his parched tongue, and when the liquid "oats " began to take effect, some of the most original and funny speeches that ever tickled a fellow's sensi- tive rib, might be looked for. The old man's oval face, naturally high flavored

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with color, would take on a ruddier hue and shine in the firelight, while his little mealy-looking eyes would snap and twinkle like so many stars in the "milky way." Here came " Nate " Graffam, who could "make up" the worst- looking faces of any man living ; for this he had natural capacity.

At Standish the Shaws seem to have been early innkeepers; but the Tompsons, at the corner, were long known as landlords. A public house was early opened at York's Corner, and one was kept open since the author's recol- lection, but the proprietors' names have not reached me.

The public house at Baldwin was owned by Isaac Dyer, but conducted by several persons employed by the proprietor to whom he leased the estab- lishment. This was an old stage station, and about it there was considerable business bustle, and a fair degree of patronage for years.

At Limington Corner a place for the entertainment of travelers was opened at an early day.

The old Mount Cutler House, at Hiram Bridge, was built by John P. Hubbard, in 1848, and at its dedication Francis Radeaux, one of Bonaparte's soldiers, played the fiddle; he died in Raymond aged about 95 years. This tavern was "kept " by Augustus Johnson for some years; he was succeeded by Simeon Mansfield, who was long a popular landlord. This house was quite a famous place when the old coaches were on the road, and here the rough- and-ready river-drivers assembled when the day's labor was over.

The first inn opened in Fryeburg was kept by Ezekiel Walker, who was licensed by the town; this house was near the Centre, in the vicinity of Bear pond. The old Oxford House, where Daniel Webster boarded when teaching at the academy, in 1802, was at one time owned and conducted by John Smith, the old heroic stage-driver. His housekeeper was his niece, Molly Brewster, who presided with charming grace, and the house was deservedly popular. He sold out and purchased the James R. Osgood mansion and there kept "open doors" to many of his former patrons.

In Brownfield the first tavern was opened as early as 1800, by John Stickney, where his grandson, William H. Stickney, now resides; this was an old-fashioned " way-side inn," where occasional travelers found entertainment.

The first tavern in Conway was built by Col. Andrew McMillan, and the present McMillan House stands on the same site. This old-time inn stands beneath stately elms in the lower section of North Conway, surrounded by broad, green lawns, and has long been a popular resting place for the weary and wayfaring. Gilbert McMillan kept the house for many years, and he was succeeded by his son, John McMillan, who was endowed with a combina- tion of faculties which constituted him an attractive and successful landlord.

The history of the old taverns kept by the Crawfords, Willeys, Thompsons and others near the White Mountains, is too well known to be more than mentioned here.

Stage Lines and Drivers.

HE earliest stage line that touched the Saco valley, of which we have found any account, extended from Portland to Boston, passing through Saco, and was established in the year 1800. This service was managed by Stephen Littlefield until his death, in 1834, when his son William, who had handled the reins from the age of sixteen, succeeded. In 1842, when the railroad connected the two cities, this old line was discon- tinued, and William put on a line of coaches between Saco village and the station, continuing to carry the mails; thus the two Littlefields, father and son, had handled the Saco mails for more than seventy years. They were both men of strict integrity, courteous, and very popular with the traveling public.

At the time the new Laconia mills were ready for operation, in the years 1845, 1847, and 1849, there was quite an exodus of the farmers' daughters from the back towns of York and Oxford counties; all hands were away to Saco and Biddeford to work in the factories. It was not necessary, at this time, to send agents to Ireland and Scotland to procure operatives to run the spin-frames and looms. The farmers had plenty of daughters to spare, and these quickly responded to the call for help. Many of these robust children of the broad-shouldered yeomanry had been "raised on burnt ground," as Uncle Daniel Decker once said, and had inhaled a quantity of charcoal suffi- cient to digest "boarding-house hash."

Up to this time the meagre mails had been gathered up and carried either by men on horseback or with a single team. Several times Peleg Gerrish had gone down to Saco with a cargo of "up-country girls," as they were then called, and foresaw that the new mills soon to be erected by the Pepperill company, which was incorporated about this time, would create a demand for more operatives and further augment the patronage of a regular stage line. There was still another factor to encourage the undertaking. The mails mightily increased between Saco and the up-river towns, as the statistics show; indeed, there was a regular boom in the postal service of the Saco valley at the time the great mills were set running "down country." Why? From the simple fact that from four to six hundred half-homesick country girls in the mills and boarding-houses were spending their Sunday afternoons writing sentimental love-letters to their "sparks," who swung the scythes up in the buttercup meadows during the dreamy days of midsummer, and pitiful lamentations to

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their parents that usually contained the stereotyped and melancholy informa- tion : "This finds us enjoying rather poor health, and we hope you are enjoy- ing the same blessing." Sometimes the memory of the old family table would find expression in such words as these: "How we want a taste of mother's injun puddin' and apple-dowdy."

Moreover, those who had an eye to business saw that there would be, eventually, a rebound of this migratory wave; that these exuberant creatures, who had beforetime roamed and romped over the whole domain of the farm and forest, would become weary of the confinement and noise of the mills and the regular rotation of the boarding-house bill of fare, and, ere long, go to their old homes to rest, recruit, show their new gear, and see their "fellers." This prophecy proved true, as will soon appear.

In 1844 a line of stages was put on by the O'Brions, of Cornish, between that town and Portland, and the following year Joseph T. Bickford established and operated a stage line between Saco and Lovell, via Buxton Old Corner, Buxton Centre, Bog Mill, York's Corner, Steep Falls, Baldwin Corner, Den- mark Corner, and East Fryeburg. He also ran a line between Sebago and Bridgton, on which his brother William drove. An old printer,* employed in the office of the Saco Democrat, "set up" and printed the handbills announc- ing the establishment of this stage line up the east side of the Saco, in the early summer of 1845. Mr. Bickford owned and ran this stage line until the railroad was built from Portland to Steep Falls, when the section between that point and Saco was discontinued.

In the spring of 1847, "Pea " Gerrish went down the Saco from Cornish to take a survey of the route on Hollis side ; to get the "lay o' the land," ex- amine the hills, and see what terms could be made at the taverns for stabling, changing horses, and dinners. He decided to establish a line via Bonnie Eagle, Moderation, and Bar Mills, on Hollis side, and thence across the river to Colonel Berry's tavern, where he waited to dine. At this point he struck Bickford's route, and drove down to Saco over the same road. On this line Mr. Gerrish drove about a year, sold out to the O'Brions, of Cornish, and was succeeded in 1848 by William Berry, who out-championed all the jolly fellows who vied with each other on the various Saco valley routes. He was a hand- some, dashing young man, who made considerable show on the road. He wore a large, bright-colored cravat, and a drab hat with the rather wide brim rolled up at the sides. His manners were attractive, and his conversation engaging. With great politeness he gave much attention to the comfort of his passengers. He could read human nature at a glance, and sized up his patrons with un- mistakable precision. He was an expert reinsman, and had a reputation for safe driving, but his boldness assumed too much risk to those under his care,

* Robert B. Wentworth, of Portage, Wis., formerly of Buxton.

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and while running horses on the circuitous drive-way by which he approached Berry's tavern, at Buxton Lower Corner, with the driver of an opposition stage, he capsized, and one of his passengers was very seriously injured, a costly experiment for the proprietors of the line.

Of course the lawyers going to and coming from court, and ministers when attending their quarterly-meetings, rode on these stages. There were lumbermen, and river-drivers at certain seasons with their long ashen "hand- speeks," and various other classes who went up and down country occasionally by this public conveyance, but the principal patrons were the factory girls going to seek employment, or the weary ones returning home for a vacation. These farmers' daughters were, perforce, rather verdant when on their first down-river trip. They were shy and bashful withal, and blushed and giggled as such unsophisticated young women will when the corn of common sense is only "in the milk." They were sometimes dressed in plain homespun, but honest linsey-woolsey, gowns, and their pretty faces were shaded with ample sun-bonnets of pink print, laundried as tidily as could be. Their spare ward- robe and "fixin's" were housed away among dried rose leaves and lavender in their little, red, round-covered trunks, tied about with pieces of bed-cord, or in bandboxes and divers bundles in bandannas. It was a picturesque spec- tacle to see Bill Berry on the box of his great coach, his six spirited horses coming into Saco upon the dead run, and above him on the "hurricane deck," as he called it, a half-dozen of these bright-eyed country girls. How he would come thundering down Main street and dash up to the front of Jerry Gordon's tavern !

At one time when driving down he was well loaded, within and without coach, with factory girls. It was midsummer, and while passing through the woods below Salmon Falls they were overtaken by a heavy shower. The rain came down in torrents, and nothing but circumscribed and fragile sunshades with which to shield their precious but delicate head gear. As they trundled on, Bill would rally the spirits of the almost disconsolate girls by such words as: "Never mind, ladies, never mind; they have plenty of new bonnets down in town. Don't shed a tear, my good girls; the sun will come out long before we reach town, and you will be as dry as a chip." But this was unavailing, so far as dress goods were concerned, for really all hands were, as the Scotchman declared when they got down from the coach before the gazing throng about the tavern, "as wet as a drooket craw." Nevertheless, when they found that there was no alternative but to sit and soak, they laughed and joked and sang until Bill Berry declared that there was more fun in a woman when she was thoroughly drenched by a shower than under any other condi- tion. I am writing of "Stage Lines and Drivers," with factory girls for trim- mings. See?

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Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary, Part 35

Author: Ridlon, Gideon Tibbetts, 1841- [from old catalog] Publication date: 1895 Publisher: Portland, Me., The author Number of Pages: 1424

Author: Ridlon, Gideon Tibbetts, 1841- [from old catalog]
Publication date: 1895
Publisher: Portland, Me., The author
Number of Pages: 1424