Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary, Part 45

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 45
USA > New Hampshire > Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary > Part 45

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).

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upon with suspicion, and his presence avoided by respectable persons. All three of his sons carly developed criminal inclinations, and were watched con- tinually by the business men of the village. Bill Rogers, the eldest son, was a lithe, black-eyed, sly-looking fellow, who did not take kindly to any kind of honest work. He followed the intemperate example of his father, and became a gambler and a thief. To a list of other crimes he added that of incendiarism. He went armed with a long knife and pistols; was feared by many, and shunned by nearly all his contemporaries. His general conduct was such as to excite suspicion ; his very name became the synonym of all that was evil.

Several petty crimes had been committed, and public opinion fastened the guilt upon Bill Rogers. Following these peculations, several destructive fires broke out, which were of undoubted incendiary origin; this aroused the business men of the community, secret meetings were held and watchmen employed to guard their property from the fire-brand.

The summer of 1854 was a memorable one. A severe and protracted drought prevailed all over New England. Rain was withheld so long that the grass withered in the fields, crops were dried up at the roots, the forest lands became like tinder, and but little water remained in the springs and brooks. The outlook was dreary and prophetic of poverty to the farmers; still hope survived and all watched the clouds and secretly prayed for the "windows of heaven " to rise. Prudent persons used every precaution against fires ; even all smokers were more cautious than their proverbial reputation gave them credit for. But there were agencies at work over which the inhabitants had no control.

On a hot, muggy, oppressive morning, when the buzzing of insects, crush- ing of dried grass under the feet, and waves of atmospheric heat added to the gloom of comparative desolation, Bill Rogers, incarnate with the spirit of mis- chief, left his father's house in the village, gun in hand, going up the Saco on Buxton side; crossed on the boom to the Hollis side, made his way through the swamps circuitously to avoid observation, and reached the extensive tract of plains that stretched for several miles north, west, and south. Much of this territory was covered with young, thrifty, and valuable hard-wood growth. On several hundred acres, however, the original growth of hard pine had recently been cut, and the ground was covered the dry brush and pitchy limbs left by the lumbermen ; the most inflammable material imaginable. Into this the cruel torch was thrown, and the flames, fanned by a rising west wind, spread with awful rapidity. The author distinctly remembers that dismal and exciting day. The farmers had been cultivating their sickly crops, and were all the morning oppressed with a sense of impending evil. Now and then, those who were stirring the parched earth among the withering corn would pause, lean upon their hoes, and anxiously scan the horizon. About two o'clock in the afternoon a column of black smoke was seen rising above the forest,

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and men left their work, hastened back by an old wood road, and found the flames sweeping down upon them; turning their steps toward their homes, so threatened by the conflagration, they were seen running across the fields as they shouted : "The plains are all on fire."

Messengers were sent to the village that nestled under the hills, the bells were rung, mills and stores were closed, and the blast of horns was heard from the farm-houses round-about. All the barrels and tubs were filled with water and placed accessibly near the houses and barns; all straw and light materials were covered with earth to ward off danger from the falling sparks. Teams were hurried under the yoke, attached to plows, and great furrows were turned up around the field-borders and along the cart-roads in the ad- jacent woodlands to arrest the approaching besom of destruction.

In the low, alluvial lands bordering on the farms north and west were hundreds of acres covered with valuable pine and hard-wood timber. The earth had become so parched and the undergrowth of brakes and brushwood so dry that they feared the menacing flames would be communicated to it, and fought with desperation with plows, hoes, and water from the half-evaporated brook to extinguish the fire or turn it from its course, but their exertions proved, at most points, unavailing. The wind rose to a gale and the unbear- able heat of the spreading flames drove all before it. The awful roar could be heard at a distance ; the whole vault of heaven was obscured by dense vol- umes of smoke, that rose, rolled, and floated like the billows of a storm-lashed ocean ; the air was filled with burning leaves and cinders that fell like ashes from a volcano, making the scene dismally appalling and oppressive. Long ere the edge of the flames that swept the earth had reached the furrows turned to stop their progress, the flying sheets of fire were carried far and wide by the wind and new fires were thus kindled. And so the hot, destroying storm swept onward, intensified and accelerated as it found materials to feed upon. The stubble fields and withered grass invited the fiery visitation and the hot tongues of flame licked up everything in their pathway.

Wealth, represented by timber lands and growing wood, took the wings of fire and vanished away. Long after the lighter materials had been consumed and the mad fury of the flames had been assuaged, fire lingered underground, burning in the pitchy stumps, smouldering in the hassocks and peat-bogs and threatening to break out anew. Day and night, with unremitting vigilance, the inhabitants, both men and women, labored to discover and extinguish the hidden fires and visited every spot where smoke was seen issuing from the ash- covered ground with pails of water. At length, after weeks of weary watch- ing and when everybody was nearly exhausted with continuous anxiety and exertion, a copious rain came on and rendered such precaution no longer nec- essary. Fortunately the threatened homesteads were saved.

Speculation ran wild respecting the origin of this fire, but discerning per-

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sons had small doubt that Bill Rogers, who was absent from home when the smoke was discovered, ignited the fatal match; at the time, however, there was no sufficient proof to warrant his arrest. The excitement had somewhat abated when, on a moonless night, the watchman on the Buxton side of the river at Moderation village heard footfalls on the old stringer bridge and in- stantly secreted himself behind an old mill-stone that leaned against a build- ing. Stealthily a figure glided forward in the shadows and entered a sash

and blind factory. It soon emerged, crossed to the mill-brow above, and dis- appeared for a few moments. Returning to the factory, this man was observed, by the watchman who had crept to a window, to raise the cover of a desk that was fastened to the wall, which he supported with a prop. He then filled the desk with shavings, applied the match, left the building, and hastened across the bridge. The watchman reached the desk, shut down the lid, and extin- guished the flames. Before the morning dawned, Bill Rogers was summoned from his bed by the sheriff's mandate and led away. His trial immediately followed, able lawyers being employed on both sides; he was convicted and sentenced to serve seven years in the state prison. The greatest excitement prevailed during this trial, and the large hall owned by Aaron Clark was crowded for several days with a determined populace. The father of the pris- oner hovered about the court room with muttering threats and grinding teeth, and when sentence had been pronounced, he followed those who had been instrumental in the arrest of his son, alternately pleading, "Save my boy," and threatening retaliation; but the noble and determined Albert Bradbury, Esq., replied : "We have endured this long enough ; he has sowed, now let him reap."

He was visited by Hon. James Morton in prison and was said to have confessed that he set fire to the plains. In consequence of his good conduct and to allay his revengeful feelings, it was deemed best to petition for his par- don and he was released at the expiration of the fourth year of his imprison- ment. After visiting his home and receiving many kind attentions from the citizens, he retired to other parts and was not known to have been involved in criminal transactions afterwards.

" A Game o' Keards."-There was a minister, by name Gunnison, who sometimes held forth in the Saco valley-of what creed I am not informed ---- and on one occasion had been invited to spend a Saturday night at the hos- pitable home of a family named Tarbox. Now there chanced to be a son here whose mental machinery had sustained a twist, which was indicated by many strange actions and unlooked-for utterances. The father called this boy aside and informed him that a minister would tarry with them for the night, at the same time begging him to look well to his conduct and to guard his tongue. When the dominie climbed down from his carriage he was introduced to this boy as Elder Gunnison, and the former almost took away the minister's breath

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by bawling out: "Well, Uncle Guniston, I'd like mighty well to have a game o' keards with you."

"Exercising Marcy." -- On the following morning, as they were assem- bled around the table and while the minister was in the midst of his rather extended grace, the Tarbox boy seized a piece of fried pork without the inter- vention of a fork, and his mother yelled out: "Young man, I'd thank you to keep your fingers out o' that gravy while Elder Gunnison exercises marcy."

A Grist to Grind .- It was midwinter and the snow lay deep on the ground; so deep that the roads were impassable for teams. The isolated farmers were about destitute of breadstuff. Mr. Tarbox had shelled a grist, and was patiently waiting for improved roads as the mill at Salmon Falls was several miles away. But a neighbor living some miles farther away was starved out, and taking a half-bushel of corn on his shoulder went wading and floun- dering through the drifts on his way to mill. The Tarbox boy saw him "off agin the house " and shouted: "Dad, there goes Mose Linskit to mill; why don't ye send your grist?"

The Old Sheep Died .- At one time it was reported that several per- sons dined at the Tarbox homestead. A small lamb had been killed and the dinner was a little extra. Young Tarbox was required to wait until second table, but he saw from the kitchen door that the juicy meat was fast disap- pearing; fearing that he would be robbed of his expected share, he blurted out : "Dad, did you tell 'em that the old sheep died?" It may be needless to say that the company left plenty of lamb for the hungry lad.

Remarkable Occurrence .- Dr. Edward Peabody came to West Buxton when a young man and established there a permanent home. He was a man of superior natural parts, was well educated, and became a skillful medical practitioner, whose field of professional service was extensive. Like others of the Peabody family, he inherited remarkable vocal powers and early gave much attention to the study of music. He could make music on any instru- ment, from a pumpkin vine and corn-stalk fiddle to the bass-viol and organ. Well, he organized and instructed one of the best old-time chorus choirs that ever furnished music for a church in the Saco valley; and for the long term of twenty-five years, with scarcely any break, he "led the singing" in the Freewill Baptist choir. During all this time he listened to the gospel, but "made light" of the Christian religion. Reared in a deacon's home, he was early instructed in the school of righteousness; was ever familiar with the letter of the Scriptures and secretly believed in what they taught. But he was profane and lived a double life. For many years he was constantly min- gling with the young, over whom his influence was anything but elevating. He was in many respects a useful citizen; was kind-hearted, progressive in civil affairs, and generous to the poor. In temporal matters he prospered; had a pleasant home and interesting family. But sorrow came at last; death

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made inroads upon his household; four sons were cut down within a few years, then disease fastened upon him. For months he kept out and went sadly from store to store in the village; at last took his bed and there aeknowl- edged his sins and began to pray for mercy. Alone with him for several hours, the author heard his sad story. He lamented that the influence of his life had been of an injurious character; he reproached himself for professing to be a skeptic in religious matters when he was, in fact, a thorough believer in the gospel. He said: "The prayers of my mother have lived in my heart."

During these weeks of decline, he called the young men to his bedside, and admonished them to shun the road in which he had walked, asking pardon for the influence for evil he had exerted over them. He made haste to settle old feuds that had long existed between him and his neighbors. All this was well, but did not fully relieve his conscience; he wished to give a more public exhibition of his sincerity and faith. At his request he was carried to the house of God and there, before the vast assembly, supported by men upon the rostrum, in a weak and faltering voice, with tears and choked utterance, he confessed his sins, asked pardon of all, and was borne back to his home. During the week, religious services were held at his house for his comfort, and there, sitting in his easy chair, he testified that God had come to his soul in merey, and had given the clear evidence of his pardon. He lingered a short space, happy and full of soul-rest, and passed to the "Christian's home in glory."

By his request, made in the author's presence, some account of this re- markable experience was published in a religious newspaper soon after his death. He expressed the wish that everybody might know that he had sincerely believed in the Christian religion, and that he was willing to trust for his salvation wholly in the death and resurrection of our Lord. We have now recorded the facts in more permanent form, with the hope that it may be instrumental in saving others from the darkness that enveloped the mind, and the sorrow that wrung the heart, of Doctor Peabody for many weeks before he found peace in Christ.

Body-Stealing .- Many years ago, a young woman, belonging to one of the respectable old families on the lower waters of the Saco, was taken sud- denly ill, and the peculiar nature of her malady puzzled the most skillful physi- cians called to see her. Rapidly she sank, and the family was called to see her pass through what all supposed to be the ordeal of death. Arrangements were completed for her funeral, a sermon was preached, and she was buried at a late hour in the day. One of the physicians, who had been called to prescribe for her, wished to get possession of her body, and offered a young man, then a student of medicine in his house, fifty dollars to bring in the corpse. Fortu- nately the doctor's house was not far from the place of interment, and a piece of young, hard-wood growth intervened. These favorable environments made

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the success of the undertaking possible, and, tempted by the liberal reward offered, the student shouldered his spade after darkness fell, and started on his dubious errand. He was unmolested while excavating, took the body of the girl on his shoulder, entered the wood-lot by a cart-road, and hastened on his way; but ere he had proceeded far he thought he could feel the body move, and as he ran an arm came in contact with his neck. "Great Heavens!" he uttered between set teeth, and rushed down the hill. A back door had been left open and the old doctor was waiting inside, in the darkness, when the student came in and throwing his burden down upon an old sofa fled from the room with the exclamation : "She's alive! she's alive!" With bolted doors and closed curtains, the doctor brought a light, and to his astonishment found the girl's eyes open while she was gasping for breath. Stimulants were quickly administered and she was put to bed. Gradually she grew stronger, and her rejoicing kindred came and nursed her. But none were more attentive and more constant at her bedside, while she was convalescent, than the student who had rescued her from the most horrible fate the human mind can con- ceive of-a death from suffocation imprisoned in a coffin buried in the earth. We have no report of the conversation that passed between these twain, and can only conjecture, from what followed, that it had to do with very sacred issues which soon culminated in a wedding ceremony. Should the foregoing statements be doubted, I can refer to persons of veracity, now living, who were cognizant of all the circumstances.

Gentle Treatment .- In the olden time there lived in one of the river towns a couple about whom many ludicrous and somewhat romantic stories have been handed down. We shall present one out of our collection in the best language we have in stock, but disclaim any intention of vouching for the statements made. It would seem that the domestic car sometimes ran off the track and jolted uncomfortably; that the wife was rather disloyal to her lord and at times drifted away from her legitimate domestic restraints. It would also appear that her husband was a man of muddy mental waters, sim- ple and quite unsophisticated. Now it came to pass in those days that an old bachelor of questionable morals lived alone in an isolated hut on a "back lot," his small plantation nearly hidden by the forest. Following some rather arbitrary discussion between this couple, the wife was found missing, and the husband went almost everywhere through the neighborhood making in- quiry, attended by many endearing expressions, soaked in tears. When all other expedients had proved unavailing and his wandering consort was still absent, the disconsolate man posted notices in conspicuous localities, headed "Strayed or Stolen," in which he offered a reward of ten dollars for the dis- covery of his lost wife, "dead or alive." After some days had elapsed and while a heavy rain was falling, the old bachelor came to the home of the lonely husband and with anxious mien and pitiful voice informed him that in cross-

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ing the wood in search of a straying cow, he had found a woman's track in the moist earth by the brook-side (since known as the Junkins brook?), and, that having followed the trail, he had found the poor creature nearly dead, lying in the water of the stream.

Boo-hoo-hoo! boo-hoo! And the anxious husband bade his kind-hearted informant hasten to the spot. It was gently intimated that the ten dollars offered as a reward for the discovery of his wife might properly be handed over, and it was done. Down through the gloaming meadows, wet with rain ; down under the dripping trees by an old path ; down by the brook-side where the swollen waters made melancholy music as they poured down the rocky bed, and there they saw her for whom they sought, her hair floating like weeds in the current, her eyes closed, her clothing torn and disarranged. Plunging into the stream, her husband bent over her and found her still alive. Assisted by his neighbor, they bore her gently homeward. Coming to a wall on the way, the poor tender-hearted husband in the most pathetic accents said: "Lift her easy, Sam; poor Miranda's been lying in the brook. Lift her gently, Sam." Sam did, laughing all the while in his vest pockets, where the ten- dollar reward reposed, and they laid her on her bed at home. After having acquitted himself of his responsibility, Sam expressed the hope that poor Miranda might speedily be restored to health and strength, and started for the nearest store to fire up with West India rum, and tell the story about the find- ing of the lost wife. The old folk said she had been doing Sam's housework during all the time of her absence and a collusion had been arranged to secure the reward offered for a wife "Strayed or Stolen." We must conclude that some of the pioneers were fully freighted with fallible human nature.

Heaven or Hell .- The small house was somewhere in the vicinity of Standish neck. The land around it was poor and the soil had been exhausted. An old couple clung to their habitation, but evidently had hard work to keep the wolf from the door. Just below the cabin there was quite an abrupt turn in the road, and the highway at this point being sandy an approaching carriage could scarcely be heard. The old man was stoop-shouldered, grizzled, and careworn. He was seated on a shingle-horse and had been shaving hoops. His wife, who was a lean, tall, sharp-featured woman, who seemed to be a duplicate of the witch of Endor or an offshoot of the devil, stood near, shaking her knotty fist in her husband's face while she gave him, in rasping tones, a piece of her tongue, of which she evidently had much to spare. The old man meekly bowed his head and was silent. When she had exhausted invectives and had to take breath, she would start toward the door ; but with an eye upon her the old man would wait until she was upon the threshold and then raise his head and snarl ont : "You old she devil." This was intended for her ears, and, red in the face, she would rush back and scream : "What did ye say to me, you old brute? " This she did repeat again and again, but her husband only bowed

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his head and was silent. Again she was about to enter the house, when he raised that versatile head and hissed between his teeth : "You old she devil." Jumping from the door-stone, she went after him with a hoop-stick and screamed out : "What did you say to me?" Without moving his head he raised his voice like a trumpet and shouted: "I said if you went to heaven I wanted to go to hell." Fearing that this honest confession might bring the upraised rod upon the old man's defenseless crown, the traveler who had been listening to the "war of words," while sitting in his gig behind some bushes, drew up the reins and drove toward the house. When he was discovered by the quarrelsome pair the old biddy quickly hastened within doors, while her hen-pecked husband took up his draw-knife and shaved a hoop. We went on our way in serious meditation ; we pitied the poor old man who preferred hell to heaven if his old consort was to spend an eternity there. He had decided that all the flames, smell of brimstone, and wailing of the doomed spirits were nothing when compared with an endless existence in the presence of a woman of whom he had learned, to his sorrow, that she could make a hell out of any place where she could make her personality known. A few years afterwards we had occasion to pass that way again, but there were evidences that the place had been abandoned, and we apprehend that those disturbed spirits, whose angry voices rent the lake-side air on that spring morning, have been laid down to rest. We have read in the sacred record that it was "better to dwell in the corner of the house-top than with a brawling woman in a wide house." The old hoop-maker had revised and translated house-top into the blue word hell; that's all.

The Old Maid in a Trap .- Old maids have certainly degenerated ; the modern old maid fails to exhibit the radical characteristics so conspicu- ously inherent in the typical woman of her class who held sway in families say fifty years ago. It is not patent to the general public that the great question of "woman's rights " had its origin among old maids but under another name. The representative of this class of middling-aged women of whom we are to speak more particularly, was a genuine type in whose temperament were combined all the distinguishing qualities, and in whose daily life were all the cranky habits of the woman who wore a single yoke. She had early been af- flicted with some twisting disorder, and one hip had disappeared while the other, being exceedingly prominent, gave to her movements when walking a singular swing noticeable in the old-fashioned fulling-stock. One of her eyes, also, had dropped down in the socket, and had therefore left a vacant, hungry- looking space above it, patronized by the flies in summer. Her brows were far above the orbs they were made to shelter and seemed strained by the cor- rugated wrinkles of her narrow forehead. Her mouth had a "glyed " angle as if trying to form a junction with her right ear, that was one of a pair of clam-shell circumference, so put on that no sound within half a mile could pass

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them. A small bob of mouse-colored hair, streaked with gray, was gathered upon her towering crown. She could jump higher at the sight of a mouse, and scream more terrifiedly than any nervous female known in Buttertown. She used the eye that had fallen from grace to watch for hearth-crickets, spiders, mice, and garden-toads, all of which she abhorred, while the other scrutinized wayside fences, rock heaps, and bushes for mischievous boys who sometimes jumped at her to see her "go into the air." Well, she was always looking for trouble and seldom failed to find what she sought for, either real or imaginary ; knowing of this propensity, the boys in her neighborhood facili- tated her search and endeavored to contribute their share of material for her entertainment. These well-meaning rustics were stimulated to extreme measures for accomplishing their object by her boasting that she was sharp- eyed enough to detect any attempt made for her ensnarement, and all the per- verse elements of their exuberant natures came to the front. Hard work while others were sleeping, going without a dinner while watching from behind cart- bodies, or a sound currying with the birch sprout, were insignificant when compared to the enduring fun that followed the discomfiture of the old maid when she had run headlong into a snare. We have space for but one anec- dote to illustrate the many episodes that she had to do with during her exas- perating experiences. Just below a clover field, made musical by the unceas- ing hum of bees, was a cool spring to which our old maid was accustomed to go for water on "churning days." A well-worn path led down the steep hill- side, over which the rank grass hung nearly all the way. The pasture fence was close at hand; on the pasture side some maples and low-growing pines that afforded excellent shade for either weary cattle or waiting farmer's boy. The earth on the hill-side was mellow and excavation easy. While the modest- faced moon rode up the sparkling dome, two industrious boys, who had retired to their sleeping rooms, climbed from their windows, took the shovels from the tool-house, and made their way along the cart-road to the place where the path to the "biling spring " turned down the hill. By the pasture-side the lux- uriant clover and timothy were carefully laid back from a plot, say four feet square ; from this, in the middle of which the path ran, the turf was cut in squares and laid aside for future use. Downward went the greedy shovels and the yellow loam was carefully thrown over the pasture fence. They did not cease their moonlight toil until they had reached a depth of about six feet ; the proper excavation for a grave. Then some little brushwood from decayed tree tops was brought and carefully laid across the pit ; over this some boughs of hemlock were evenly spread. Once more the turfs were returned and placed with good joints over this "tater hole," while some yellow soil was scattered where the path had been. When the grass had been carefully arranged and tumbled down in places to hide the disturbed earth, the preliminaries were completed, and the lads, well pleased with what had been accomplished, went

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Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary, Part 45

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