Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary, Part 44

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 44
USA > New Hampshire > Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary > Part 44

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).

The children watched the form of their mother when she went from the house as long as they could see her, then cuddled close together and waited for her return. The minutes extended into hours and she did not come. The

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younger ones were overcome with sleep and Isabella alone remained awake to continue her lonely vigil. She replenished the fire and kept her lamp trimmed believing her parents would ere long return. No sound broke the reign- ing stillness within the home save the mad voice of the tempest. The dreary hours passed, and the morning found her weary with watching, and filled with distress and terror. One by one the children awoke to call for their mother, and Isabella tried to comfort them, little realizing what the absence of their parents meant. She supplied them with such little fragments of food as had been left, then went to the barn and fed the cattle. Taking down the tin horn, with which her father had so many times been summoned to his dinner when toiling in distant fields, she blew blast after blast, hoping the sound would alarm the neighbors and bring help, but the raging of the pitiless storm drowned the voice of the trumpet before it reached any human ear. There was no abatement in the falling snow, and a dreary day followed the wearisome night. Hope grew faint, and the ominous wings of despair hovered over the spirit of Isabella Farbox, as the darkness of another winter night closed in upon the half-buried home. Worn out with her watching and heart- sick by hope deferred, she sank down with the other children and slept the troubled sleep of unrelieved anxiety. When she awoke and looked from the frosted window, she saw a buried world, a leaden sky and the snow still falling. Another day and night passed, but the third dawn was bright and elear. Delusive hope revived and Isabella, inspired in spirit, took the horn and called again and again for help. The blast was heard by the distant neighbors of the settlement and they hastened to learn the cause of such an unusual summons at that hour of the day. But there was no need of asking, for, as the strong men made their way slowly by cutting a pathway through the great drifts, they found the mother under her winding sheet of snow, cold and rigid. Going forward toward the house, they soon came upon the frozen form of the husband, and found the bag of meal that had cost the lives of the parents and made their children orphans. Everything that could be devised by kind hearts was done by willing hands to comfort the poor, disconsolate children, and when the last sad rites were attended to, they were adopted by their friends.

The eldest son, Jeremiah, who was absent during those doleful days, went to California, where he died issueless. He was an engineer and assisted in running out the Maine Central railroad. Isabella, the eldest at home when her parents were frozen to death, went to live with her Grandfather Plaisted. She was married to Jonathan Estes, of Corinna, Me., had issue, and died when thirty-five. The memory of her sad experience when a child never left her, and during the years that followed, when in her own home with her husband and children about her, as the winter storms were raging, she would walk the floor for hours together, wringing her hands and weeping as she lived over

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again those terrible nights and days of anguish and terror. Samuel, the next youngest at home at the time, never married ; died at Vieksburg, Miss. Olive was adopted by Capt. Codman, of Gorham; married William H. Dyer, of Portland, and had several children, of whom but one is known to survive. Betsey, only two years old at the time of her parents' death, was brought up by Mr. Manning, of Raymond, and was mentioned by Hawthorne, who was living with the Mannings at the time, in his note-book. She was married to James Lord Smith, from Biddeford, who formed her acquaintance in Boston. She had five children, four of whom survive with issue. Susan is the wife of Joseph White, of Boston, and the mother now makes her home there. J. Henry Smith resides in Bangor, Me. Abbie was married to F. M. Burnham, who died, and she now resides in Biddeford. Sidney lives in East Saugus, Mass. The house in which the Tarbox family lived before settlement on Standish cape, is still standing. She who was "little Betsey" wanders baek from time to time to view the spot associated with so much that is sad, where she passed those dreary, lonesome days and nights so many years ago.

The Lost Boy .- Philander Eldridge was an honest, quiet, hard-working man, who had faithfully served in the Union army; after his return he settled on the west bank of the Saco, in Hollis, and around his humble fireside gathered a group of robust children. It was during the late winter weeks that the father was cutting eord-wood about a half mile from his home in the edge of a swamp, a little way back from the river. Just as the shadows of evening were falling along the clearings, one of the sons, a lad of ten years, was making his way along the field-side toward the place where his father had been at work; his mother had sent him forward to meet his father, but Mr. Eldridge had gone home by another path. Searching about in the border of the forest, the boy became lost, and wandered into the deep, dark recesses of the swamp. Some of the neighbors who had heard his cries in the early evening, thought it to be the voice of some boy on another road, and took but little notice of it.

When the father reached home the mother asked for her little son, but to her surprise he had not seen him. Night had now set in, and was ominous of a storm. What was done to find the lost boy must be quiekly attended to. The parents left the table, ready spread for the evening meal, and hastened to the spot where the father had spent the day, acquainting the neighbors on the way with the faets. There were plots of snow still in the swamp, and by lantern-light some tracks left by the little wanderer's feet were found. Round and round the father and mother went, followed by the neighbors, ealling louder and louder the name of the boy. Darker grew the night, and the threatened storm of rain and cutting sleet came on in its wildest fury. The news spread until all who lived in the vicinity had assembled, lanterns in hand, to join in the search. These deployed in lines, and moved slowly and care-

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fully forward. Upon the hill-tops, around the swamp, in the open fields, fires were kept burning, and men were stationed there supplied with warm blankets to wrap the little lad in if he emerged into the opening. From the first scatter- ing drops of rain, the storm increased until the wind became a roaring gale, and made it difficult to keep the fires burning. All through the dreary night the searching parties wandered on, being directed by an occasional foot-print in the snow or soft ground; the voice of the mother, meanwhile, ringing out amid the howling of the storm, as she repeated in a mournful wail: "My boy is lost ; my boy is lost." Few can realize the sadness of the circumstances, the impressiveness of that midnight scene, and strong men quaked and wept aloud, as they listened from the hills to the wild echo of that mother's voice as it rose and fell in the dark and gloomy swamp-lands.

The night passed away, and the morning dawned cold and dreary with- out finding the lost boy. It was indeed a pitiful sight as the nearly exhausted father led his weeping, weary wife from the forest to one of the fires where a party had assembled; thence to a neighbor's house. Her eyes were inflamed by incessant weeping, her long, black hair had fallen over her shoulders, and her clothes were torn and disarranged by falling through the rough, tangled undergrowth. At the opening of day the places of business were closed, and the villagers turned out en masse to join in the search. Deployed in long lines, the swamp was carefully gone through, and the tracks found upon a piece of plowed land; crossing which, the boy had entered upon a vast plain covered with serubby oaks, very difficult to pass through. The ground was so thickly carpeted with leaves that no track could be found.

Mile after mile was traversed, and the party emerged upon the edge of an extensive mossy heath, having here and there small patches of brown, soft muck where the tracks were once more found; these foot-prints were close together and showed, by their zigzag course, that when they were made the little wanderer was nearly exhausted. Communication was constantly kept up between the advancing column, for it was evident that the lost one could not be far away. Nearer and nearer appeared the wayward tracks made by the weary little feet, and soon the shout rang down the line that the lad was found. He was prone upon the earth, and his face was buried in the deep, spongy moss. Gently they turned him over, but the eyes were closed, the little pilgrim had reached the end of his weary journey; he was DEAD.

With quivering lips and falling tears the men gathered around the lifeless form as it lay there, the pale face upturned and the speechless lips deep pur- pled; the heart-rending eries of the frantic mother, as she knelt and caressed the little form, were something indescribably touching. Ah! but hearts of flint must have melted before such a scene as the heart-broken woman raised the little damp brow to her lips and kissed it again and again. It was several miles to the village and the men carried the body by turns in their arms while

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the inconsolable parents followed, continually calling the name of the dead boy, and repeating the exclamation : "My boy was lost; my boy is dead !"

No food had been taken during all the time of search, and when the party reached the village, the family table was found just where the mother had left it on the evening when their boy was lost. Nearly every person in the village and outlying neighborhoods had assembled about the home of the absent family and few there were who did not weep as a strong man passed through the crowd with the little form in his arms, followed by the grief-stricken and groaning father and mother. The following day saw the beloved body of the lost boy borne to the village cemetery, followed by a long train of sympa- thizing friends, and laid in the little earthly cabinet.

What suffering this wandering child must have endured through that long, dreary, storm-beaten night and the long day that followed, as, faint for want of food, benumbed with cold, and weary with his long, crooked journey, he staggered forward ! Exposed to the driving storm, wandering over rough, rocky ridges, down through dark, marshy swamp-lands, crossing small, cold streams, crawling among tangled brushwood, climbing over fences, growing more and more weary and benumbed, thinking of home and parents, not knowing whither he went or if he would ever be found. The roaring of the storm drowned his every cry for help and mercy seemed to have veiled her face. The distance from the place where he entered the forest to the place where he was found was more than three miles on an air line, and in wander- ing hither and thither as he did, crossing and recrossing his own track while in the swamp, he must have covered no less than eight miles. A blank was left in that home that nothing could ever fill, and a sadness gathered over the lives of the parents which has not been dispelled by the passing years.

Angry Neighbors .- When gathered around the corn-pile at some "husk- ing," or about the cheerful fire of an evening, the old yeomen were wont to relate some rib-tickling anecdotes, and the speakers were not over-nice in the selection of language employed, so long as it was penetrating and would stick. The auditors were not sensitively fastidious in listening to what was said; if the story had enough of explosive force in it to burst the waistbands and drive the hearers into convulsions, though couched in the most clumsy phrase, it was heartily relished and responded to. But many sons of the clearing were capital story-tellers and could appreciate anything with a "pint in it."

With slight variations of detail, they used to relate how two neighbors down river became alienated and revengeful; how they were " agin one tother" and ignored the sacred precept, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," and watched for opportunities to "spit out spite " and "git come-uppance "; how they hailed each other with insulting language across lots and vexed themselves to find words containing enough of bitterness to convey the malevolent spirit that actuated them to such deeds. Well, extremes succeeded each other alter-

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nately until the feud became so intensified that nothing was too rash or cruel for the townsmen to undertake. The names we use are "adapted."

At length a flock of sheep owned by Spitfire were found by Hateful in his field, whereupon he drove them into his barn and cut their "hamstrings " ; then turned the poor creatures into the highway with his dog after them. Of course the sheep, thus mutilated, were valueless and were killed. But little was said and time wore on. After some months, however, an old, slab-sided, razor-backed sow belonging to Hateful escaped from her enclosure and strayed upon the grounds of Spitfire. His much desired opportunity for retaliation had now come, and he chuckled in glee as he drove the "critter" into a yard, where, with the assistance of his hired man, he threw her down and cut her mouth open even unto the hinges of her jaws; then turned her into the road. The poor sow ran for her owner's home, besmeared with blood, hoarsely squealing and gnashing her teeth fearfully. This was an offense of too grave a nature to be endured without protest, and in high dudgeon Hateful started for the house of Spitfire. Meeting his neighbor in the door-yard, he bawled out : "Have you seen anything o' my sow over here?" When informed in a very cool way that she had just left the premises, he asked, angrily: "And how came she to be so bloody?"

"Well," replied Spitfire, "I can account for it only in this way: she came over here 'bout an hour ago and saw my sheep with their hamstrings cut ; upon this she laughed so hard at such a sight that she spilt her mouth open and ran away bathed in her own gore; that's all I know 'bout it, sir." And that settled the colloquy; the altercation ended abruptly, and Hateful went meekly homeward with the thought buzzing in his head that he had found his match.

The Bear and Sheep .- An adventure connected with one of these quarrelsome neighbors used to be described with great enthusiasm and was trimmed out in high colors by the fun-provoking grandfathers. The author will not vouch for the truthfulness of the details. The story ran like this: As Spitfire went to his barn one morning to "fodder his stock" he discovered a huge bear in the yard with his sheep. Seizing a pitchfork, he rushed at the animal, but was instantly disarmed by a sweep of bruin's paw, and in the struggle that followed Spitfire was ripped open in the midst, and like Judas, the suicide, his bowels gushed out. While he lay prone in the barn-yard, screaming for help, the bear escaped. Now it came to pass that as Mrs. Spit- fire came to the rescue she discovered what she supposed to be her husband's spiral organs on the snow, and quickly gathering them in her apron she tucked them into his vacated abdominal tenement, sewed up the rent made by the bear's claws, and in the days that followed nursed her unfortunate consort back to health. But, as the sequel proved, the unfortunate man had not reached the culmination of his troubles, for it was revealed that the bear had disem-

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boweled one of the sheep before being discovered by the owner, and that, under the excitement of the moment and in her haste to relieve her suffering husband, the good woman had made a mistake so terrible and far-reaching in its consequences that when it was discovered there was, alas! no remedy; she had, unconsciously, invested Mr. Spitfire with the circulating mediums of a domestic animal, while the legitimate members of his own anatomy were left to undergo the fatal congestion of frost in the farm-yard.

The embarrassment and functional disability involved in this singular and unintentional case of surgical malpractice may be imagined, but is of too com- plicated a character for description ; indeed, these were unparalleled by the most marvelous revelations of Hayford's dream, familiar to us in our school-days. Strange as it may appear, it has been reported that the engrafted members performed their office very well and that the transformed human being survived many years; not, however, without a sheepish look which indicated a mutton- ish sensation, while his poor but well-meaning wife died of a broken heart, resulting from her irretrievable mistake. When the story had reached this point, and the old fellows who told it said "the lamb didn't live," the company roared until the roof rang.

Pearl Fishing .- There are many now living whose memories reach back to the exciting day when the submerged domain so long and peacefully inhabited by silent, unobtrusive clams, in the ponds and streams, was invaded with such tireless and inscrutable zeal by scores of honest but deluded seekers after wealth at the northwest side of Hollis; yea, the infatuation became so contagious that it spread into many adjoining towns and distant sections of the state. It came about in this way : Some sensational items had appeared in the newspapers respecting a remarkably beautiful and valuable pearl found within the shell house of a large fresh-water clam taken from a brook. Those who read the account of this "find" were not impelled to any exertion by it. and after the customary speculation by those who assembled at the country store, the affair passed out of mind. Not long afterwards, however, a farmer and son were fishing on the eastern bank of the Killick pond, when the latter, being some distance in advance of his father, saw through the clear water and partly imbedded in the muddy bottom an enormous clam. Recalling the statement in the newspaper, he waded into the pond and secured the coveted prize. Seating himself upon a mossy log, he proceeded to dissect the bivalve, and to his astonishment he found two large pearls ; one was beautifully trans- lucent, of a pink tint and regular oval form ; the second was of darker hue and deformed. Filled with rapturous visions of wealth, this poor farmer's boy shouted : "Father ! Father ! come quickly, for I have found a pearl." Hearing no response, he cried, louder : "Come this way and see the pearl I have found." Being of an emotional, excitable temperament, the father came crashing through the brush and tangled thicket to the spot, and on beholding the

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precious stones, opened wide his eyes, held both hands above his head, and exclaimed to his elated son: " You have found a fortune ; you are a lucky boy ; you will be a rich man." This rosy prophecy was too much for the tender- hearted and already animated lad, who had been reared in a home where luxuries were the minus quantity, and he turned his head away to hide his emotion.

Forgetting pickerel, trouts, and pouts, the lines were quickly reeled and fishpoles left for those who had no pearls. With animated spirits, deluded by some siren of the air, and palpitating hearts, the two made long strides home- ward. What visions of affluence and opulent enjoyment fascinated those hurrying pedestrians as they left a wake of vibrating bushes behind them ! The secret was certainly too good to keep, and too valuable, intrinsically, to be revealed, and those who held it were tantalized with an insolvable dilemma. If others were allowed to know what had been found, confidence might be betrayed, everybody would rush to the ponds where the clam beds were found, the shell caskets containing the pearls would be secured, and the original dis- coverers thus robbed of their anticipated source of wealth ; thus they impaled logic on one horn of their dilemma. But there were the pearls of undoubted value, and yet their worth could not be ascertained without submitting them for examination to a jeweler. The mother was summoned to the council and her judicious advice followed ; it was this: "Take the pearls to the village, call two of the most sagacious business men and secure their services by giving them an interest in the precious stones. Should they prove to be worthless, the finder would not sustain loss ; if valuable, something very handsome would accrue to the principal stockholders, after which more pearls could probably be secured to increase the amount." And so, with concerted action, the pro- gramme was carried out. The father and son repaired to the village, assuming a collected and moderate mien, and found the two gentlemen, whose names had been suggested by the mother; behind closed doors the four sat down together in conclave. All the circumstances connected with the discovery of the gems were rehearsed, the jewels produced as tangible proof of the facts stated, and the two business men, usually cool-headed, conservative, and cau- tious in their ventures, became wild with enthusiasm. They volunteered the opinion that the pearls would be valued high in the scale of thousands, but enjoined absolute secrecy. All were of the opinion that before any exhibition of the gems was made, it would be advisable to continue the pearl fishing for a few days and thus, if others could be found, secure as large an amount as possible at the first sale. To avoid all suspicion, the two villagers were to leave home before day-dawn on the following morning and meet the farmer and his son at a road corner designated on the plain. The arrangement was well carried out, and with baskets, high-topped boots, hoes and knives, the four spent the day in the new employment, under overhanging maples upon

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the pond bank. The result of the search was a hundred pearls of various sizes, forms, and colors ; these were carefully assorted, arranged in neat jew- elry boxes, and one of the party carried them to Portland. During the ab- sence of their delegate, the three stockholders remaining at home waited under a strain of suspense that was wearing, and when he retired with them to his office after his return, they anticipated his report and watched for the appear- ance of a swelled pocket-book with the eagerness of a Wall street broker dur- ing a financial panic. The report came unaccompanied by the pocket-book and was-unfavorable. Some of the pearls were of moderate value when a sufficient number could be assembled of corresponding size and tint for setting in " clusters " around a larger central gem ; the large specimens first found, which had hatched such visions of wealth, were worthless.

With collapsed spirits the four dissolved the syndicate, then and there, and the pearl fishery was abandoned for more lucrative business; the manufacturer returned to his mill, the merchant to his counter, and the crest-fallen farmer, whose estimation of pearls had gone up like a rocket and come down like a stick, with his heart-sick son, went back to rattle their hoes among the "pumple stones" on the hill-side farm.

However, it was reported that if an ideal pearl, a perfect specimen, a standard gem, could be found, its value would repay the searcher for many months of labor. It must be round or oval, pure white or a pale pink, and beautifully translucent. Two or three individuals continued the business after- wards, for several months, at the pond-sides, and the immense accumulation of clam shells thrown up by them remained as monuments to their zeal and hope, and the flesh of the bivalves afforded a rich repast, ready prepared, for otter and mink. One of this number was supposed to have found a valuable collection, from the fact that previous to the time of his engaging in the pearl hunt he was in humble circumstances, but for many years subsequently he carried a well filled pocket-book and lived as a gentleman at ease. Many entered the race and all did run well, but one only could win the prize.

Crimes and Trial of Bill Rogers .- There came in the early years to the settlement on the west side of the Saco one Ed Rogers, said to have been an Irishman, who seems to have brought with him a gallon or two of bad human blood, which, when mixed with ardent spirits, caused him to do many wicked acts; and the tributary was not cut off, but flowed down to a son called Jim Rogers, who had the same proclivity to stimulate this sluggish life-current with "firewater," which made him hateful, quarrelsome, and vin- dictive. Moreover, his fingers were said to possess an adhesive tendency, causing them to stick to many articles, which were carried away without any payment. Jim took his wife from the flock of daughters raised by "Uncle Nat " and " Aunt Nabby " Haley, of Hollis; this alliance may have superin- duced the light-fingered propensity, for aught I know. Jim Rogers was looked

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Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary, Part 44

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