USA > Maine > Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary > Part 47
USA > New Hampshire > Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary > Part 47
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At another time toward spring, Uncle Tom found a bear's "breathing hole" in the snow and "surmized" that bruin was in a torpid condition of a winter-nap. He put a long handle into his axe, and took Thomas, Jr., and old "Venture" with him. When the snow had been dug away from the " wind- fall," under which bruin lay, the dog was set a-barking at the opening. Uncle Tom, meanwhile, with the lad behind him, took his station on the log. The drowsy old sleeper was soon aware that her sleeping-room had been invaded, and commenced to rub her eyes and snort. So soon as she could bear the light and " stir her stumps," she raised her head and started out to make the acquaintance of old "Venture," but before an introduction could be formu- lated, Uncle Tom's heavy axe went crashing through her skull. When this old mother bear was pulled out, a pair of chubby cubs were found in the den; these were dispatched and the three dragged home. From the pelts taken from the young bears, caps were made by Aunt Patty for her oldest boys; of these they were very proud.
A Crowded Grave-Yard .- The following was related of a rough old fellow in the town of Hiram. He owned a burial lot in a certain old cemetery where many had been interred and left to rest under the green turf without any monument to mark the place of their lowly bed. Some member of his family had died and a sexton had been engaged to dig a grave; the exact spot was designated, but as the searching spade went downward it found its way into an unmarked and occupied grave, making it necessary to "set over " and excavate in another place. Knowing the passionate temperament of the owner of the lot and wishing to avoid a "scene " when the procession reached the yard, the sexton went forward to meet the "mourners " and quietly explained to the owner of the lot that he had found an unknown body buried where he was directed to dig, and that he had found it necessary to "set over to one side." Mad as a demon, and disregarding the feelings of all in the proces- sion, he yelled out : "He no business to be in there." The sexton remon- strated and enjoined quietness, as there were so many to hear, but the indig- nant old man screamed still louder : "I tell ye he no business to be in there."
A Decapitated Man .- We have known of two men who, when swim- ming drunk, were staggering along the road with scythes on their shoulders. At length one of these struck some protuberance in the road and fell down upon the sharp scythe and cut an ugly wound in the back of his neck. Help- less to recover his feet, his drunken companion seized the snath and awkwardly pulled the scythe out, nearly severing his head from his body; one stated that only the windpipe remained. Help was procured, but before the blood could be stanched the wounded man had become so weak that he lay as one dead; but when bathing his face with spirit to resuscitate him he began to run out his tongue, smack his lips, and say, in a feeble voice : "I can get plenty of rum down to Gorham just as good's that for thirty cents a gallon." His head
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grew on, but he carried a terrible scar across the back of his neck when last seen.
Running Bonnie Eagle Falls .- From the old saw-mills to the broad, deep channel half a mile below Bonnie Eagle, the Saco plunges down over a ragged stone stair between nearly perpendicular walls of rock; in passing through this narrow defile the waters foam, whirl, boil, and roar, and just before reaching a more tranquil state they leap down over a high granite bar which extends nearly across the channel, called the "Bunt's dam." These falls have always been considered to be too dangerous for the best boatmen, and with one exception no attempt to run them is known to have been made. It was in the spring of 1825 that three venturesome river-drivers had the fool- ish contempt of danger to launch a common bateau near the old mill-dam for the purpose of running the falls. In vain did their friends try to dissuade them from the reckless undertaking. Jabe Lane handed his pocket-book to some one on the bank and took the steersman's paddle. Joe Dresser and Joe Small took the oars and in a moment headed the boat for the rapids. When they reached the first great pitch they realized their danger, but it was too late; they must now go over. Joe Dresser was heard to shout : " Hang to the boat for your lives," as the light craft shot down through the mad waters. The first fall was passed in safety, and in an instant the boat was tossed about in the white flood of the second pitch; it struck a rock, was capsized, and the three men were left to struggle for their lives; they were hurled over the boulders and against the walls and buried out of sight as they reached the pools. Dresser, a powerful man, reached a rock near the shore and by thrust- ing his hand into a cleft was enabled to hold on. Small was carried by the powerful current within reach, and when nearly ready to sink was seized by his hair and held by Dresser. Poor Lane went down through the rapids over the "Bunt's dam," and when last seen was passing round a bend in the river. He had clung to the boat until it was smashed to pieces and was then drowned. His body was found in the eddy below next day and carried through crowds that lined the river bank to a house. The spectators who witnessed this daring feat were almost paralyzed, and when the boat was seen to go over, many turned their faces away in horror. Dresser and Small were rescued by means of a rope let down over the steep wall. On this a man descended and pulled the nearly exhausted men upon the rock; here they were allowed time to recover strength and then assisted to the tree-bordered bank above.
Many times has Capt. Joe Dresser related the particulars of this hazard- ous adventure, while surrounded by bold lumbermen, and has often exclaimed at the close: "Ah! that was a terrible experience; to me a horrible night- mare until this day." Of course, the performance gave the two survivors much notoriety, and the event became historic in the neighborhood.
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Capt. Joseph W. Dresser descended from an old Scarborough family; was living in 1893, at Bridgton, hale and hearty, although rising ninety. He was captain in the militia and many years a surveyor of lumber. He was employed by Land Agent Burleigh, father of ex-Governor Burleigh, to survey tracts of state lands in Aroostook county. He served with Governor Lincoln in the old Fryeburg militia and was drafted for the " Madawaska war."
A Catamount Chase .- A few specimens of this terrible animal have been killed in western Maine ; only a few. The bravest old hunters are dis- posed to leave them alone, and not many are so fool-hardy as to precipitate a quarrel with one of these great cats. One stroke of their paw would shatter the arm-bones, and when their long teeth reach the neck, resistance is over. Elbridge Potter had a fox bed some distance from his house, and when going to examine his traps, there saw the track of some great animal that had evi- dently approached the bait, but was too sagacious to go nearer the dangerous steel. Arming himself with his gun, Mr. Potter followed the track through the dense forest, down through valleys, along steep hill-sides, and over swamps for many a weary mile, constantly watching for the beast in trees and among the rocks. When night came on, he found himself many miles from home, gave up the pursuit, and returned. Having made some farmers acquainted with the object of his visit to their precinct, some bold spirits took up the trail the next day and followed it into Hiram, but when darkness fell, they, too, turned homeward. Another party was assembled on the following day and carefully followed the creature's enormous tracks into Baldwin ; here several resolute men, armed with guns and axes, joined in the hunt, and after hours of exhausting travel over an exceedingly rough country found the tracks led up Rowe's mountain. It was evident that they were not far behind the animal and some old forest rangers, who knew from the form of the foot-print in the snow that it was a panther, alias, " Indian devil," enjoined great caution and vigilance in watching the tree-tops. Suddenly one Weed, an experienced hunter, who lived in Baldwin, being a little in advance of the others, stopped, dropped on one knee, and fixed his gaze upon a large, leaning hemlock on the mountain side. In a moment he raised his hand and others approached as he whispered : "There he is."
"Where? where?" asked several of the men.
" Right there on the trunk o' the hemlock; don't you see his tail whisp- ing?" asked Weed.
A brief consultation was held, and it was arranged that Weed, being a good shot, should approach as near as would be prudent and fire, while the others held their charges for any contingency that might follow. The im- mense beast was watching them with demoniac looking eyes, while he swept the tree trunk with his long, bristling tail. His ears were laid back and his whiskers vibrating as he made a singular purring noise like a cat when ready
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to spring upon a bird. He was evidently preparing to spring, when from be- hind a sturdy tree which was used for protection, Weed sent his bullet through the creature's head. With a blood-curdling scream, the panther sprang down the hill-side, but the heroic men were ready for him and soon ended his strug- gles with their guns and axes. But when Weed came down, his left hand was hanging in bleeding shreds. The gun burst where it was grasped by this hand, and so lacerated it that amputation was necessary. As some walked by the wounded man's side to assist him in reaching home, the others dragged the carcass of the huge beast over the snow to the settlement. Thus ended the catamount chase. From far and near the people came to see this now harmless beast, whose screams had been enough to strike terror to almost any heart ; and his skin, when stuffed, was exhibited to hundreds for a small fee and the proceeds handed to Mr. Weed.
A Singular Music-Box .- Gideon Tibbetts was humorous to an extreme and in old age used to relate with much enthusiasm, for the amusement of his visitors, quaint anecdotes relating to some of the tricks played by him when young. Some of these were too radical for popular approval, because border- ing on cruelty. He and another young man were at one time employed by two old maids to cut the hay on their farms in Waterborough. These spinsters were prudish and superstitious, nervous and crusty. The haying was nearly finished. They were raking up the last windrows at early evening, when a large hornets' nest was discovered on a bush by the meadow-side. It was inhabited by a numerous colony of formidable and warlike denizens, who wore white trousers. Everyone went armed with a keen-pointed lance. The dew was falling, and these busybodies had all retired for the night. The entrance of their citadel was carefully closed ; it was broken from the bush, rolled up in a vest, and carried to the house. While Prudence and Desire were at the milking, Mr. Tibbetts carried his "music-box," as he called it, to their sleeping-room, tucked it well down toward the foot of their bed, removed the plug, returned the clothes to their wonted position, and retired to his own apartment, just across the stair-landing, where, with door ajar, he and com- panion awaited developments. The house was soon closed, all doors securely bolted, and the innocent maidens went tripping up-stairs. They seemed un- usually merry that night, and interspersed brief snatches of song as they were disrobing. Moreover, they made suggestive speeches about their hired men, and laughed at their own witticisms. This was all listened to by the patient watchers across the way. It was an oppressiveły warm night, and the spinsters decided to retire in meagre apparel.
" All ready, Desire ?"
" All ready, Prudence."
" Blow out the candle, Desire."
It was done, and the creaking of the old bedstead indicated occupancy;
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without doubt it was occupied; was found to be, in a lively sense of the word. Whew ! what's to pay now ?
"Mercy, Desire!"
"Heavens and airth, Prudence!"
Smack, slap, spank, run. Down the stairs they went, yelling in agony, shouting for Lazarus to come from Abraham's bosom, from anywhere, and put out the fire that was rushing through their bodies. To use the language of the old man: "I never heard two women spank butter as those old maids did." The hay-makers were discharged in the morning, and returned to their homes. Mr. Tibbetts used to say : "I tell ye that kitchen smelt strong of the camphor bottle when we went down stairs at day-break."
Fowl-Fur-Fish .- The new hired man, named Jabish, was evidently bashful, homesick, or constitutionally secretive. His employer, Farmer McKusick, was of a jovial turn, and, wishing to make the youth's sojourn on the place as pleasant as possible, he often made overtures to draw Jabish into conversation and rally his spirits, but without avail. At length, as they reached the end of the long row in the corn-patch and sat down to rest, McKusick called the attention of the hired man to a squirrel running on the wall, and asked if he ever went a-hunting. Jabish answered "Yes," and stopped there. "Tell me all about it," said the old farmer; "did you find any game?" Then, for the first and only time, Jabish told a tale; it ran on this wise: "It was a cool October morning when I took father's old queen's arm, slung the big powder-horn over my shoulder, and entered the forest. Well, I'd known so many who went a-hunting and came home without any game that I determined to shoot the first living thing I saw. There was a deep brook to cross down in the swale, and an old log to go over on. Well, as I was carefully walking on the mossy old tree- trunk, I saw a squirrel run- ning up a spruce on the opposite bank; so I leveled the piece at him and fired. The charge killed the squirrel and a partridge that chanced to be in the spruce budding, but the old gun kicked me off into the brook, and in struggling to climb out I caught hold of everything within reach, and when I found myself upon the bank I had a mink in one hand, a mushsquash in 'tother, and the seat o' me pants was full o' trouts. I considered that a pretty good shot and went home loaded with fowl, fur and fish." McKusick was satisfied, and didn't haze Jabish any more for stories.
Best Kind of Bait .- A singular old man who lived at Cornish was sitting on the bridge fishing when Squire Jameson came along. "What are you fishing for?" asked the lawyer. "For the devil," replied the old fisher- man. "And what do you use for bait?" inquired the legal man. "Well, he likes a piece of a d-d lawyer best," answered the sober old man. Squire Jameson used to tell of this morning colloquy with great enjoyment, but it is said "Cale" Ayer was the man to give it the proper color.
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Bean-Blossoms .- With the members of this family Nature had entrusted some of the choicest specimens of mother wit; indeed, they were constitu- tionally humorous. Possessing keen perception and a lively apprehension of every passing event, they could instantly extract the ludicrous from the most commonplace. And the way they said it! This was the most amusing of all. From their mother the whole family inherited a peculiarity of enuncia- tion, a jerky delivery, that is beyond description. Their quaint expressions never seemed to have been the fruit of a moment's premeditation; they flashed from the mind to the organs of speech, and the idea was formulated spontane- ously. The following reminiscences, selected from the many, will best illus- trate the peculiarities exhibited by some members of the family :
Stephen made a profession of religion, and assumed that he had received a commission from the Almighty to preach the gospel. On one occasion dur- ing the absence of the regular incumbent it was thought best by some of the charitably inclined to encourage Stephen by inviting him to supply the pulpit. The serious and conservative brethren feared the worst and mildly offered objections ; these were overruled and the "pintment" was given out that " Brother Bean would preach."
Of course the curiosity of the community was aroused and Sabbath morn- ing, being auspiciously pleasant, found an unusual number assembled. Some- what behind time Stephen appeared, dressed in a great drab surtout, having his neck swathed under the ample folds of a woolen "cumfooter." With ram- bling gait he made his way to the pulpit, where for some space he groaned piteously. At length, he arose with book in hand, and, with an expression of face that no artist could reproduce, announced : "Hymn ninety-sax, title read my clear." Rap, tuning fork; twang, Barney's viol. The hymn, "When 1 can read my title clear," etc., was sung. Preliminaries over, Stephen stood forth to address the congregation. It was a custom in those days for the speaker to spend some time with an apology, which embraced a remark rela- tive to the manner in which the subject to be treated had "impressed the mind." There certainly was some excuse for this on the present occasion, and Stephen was not at a loss for a figure of speech that to him, a man raised on the plains, was appropriate. He began on this wise: "My breth-er-ing, 1 feel aw-ful on-warthy tu stand afore ye, and 'spose I might as well go a wood- chuck huntin' as tu try tu preach tuday." The discourse that followed was not fully reported, but the reader may form some approximate estimate of its character by the introduction.
Stephen was at one time invited to dine with the family of a neighboring farmer. Now it came to pass that the good old woman who laid the dishes upon the table was very "near-sighted" and did not discover the salt in the cup she placed by the side of Stephen's plate. All gathered about the board, but had proceeded but little way with the meal when Stephen was observed
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to be making wry faces. "Aunt Polly," said he, " we be commanded to eat what is set before us, asking no questions for conscience sake, but by my faith I think ye have given me yer salt pot for a tea-cup." Of course, there had been no intentional impropriety and all was satisfactorily explained.
During a season of great religious revival " Ran " Bean professed to have been converted and manifested great solicitude for his father, then well advanced in life. On an evening when the old gentleman was present " Ran " stood up and said : "My breth-er-ing, I wish you'd all pray for my poor wicked old father, for his heart is just as hard as a rock." This was, indeed, a hard subject for "meltin' marey " and we have no record of the old man's conversion.
While the meetings were being held in the village schoolhouse the relig- ious enthusiasm was at white heat. At an evening service " Ran " Bean deliv- ered the most comprehensive and potent temperance speech of which there is any record in literature or tradition, and some old topers have been heard to say it was absolutely true to fact. One of the ministers had expressed the belief that a great temperance reform would result from the prevailing revival of religion, and some of the lay members cordially responded "A-men." This was an opportune moment for "Ran" and he improved it. Rising in a corner, with excited emotion, he delivered himself as follows: "My breth-er-ing, I know all a-bout rum. When it is in you ye feel very well, but when it is out how do ye feel? Why, you feel as if ye hadn't had it in at all." But the cream of the speech was in his voice and enunciation; it was indescribably ludicrous, and its effect upon the assembly may be apprehended. It may suffice to say that no person present took issue with the speaker or made any attempt to refute his statement.
In early years the large family was sometimes pinched with hunger, and the children, even in manhood, appreciated a well-supplied table to the fullest extent. This relish sometimes found expression in language rather strong for the code of propriety. At the time of which I write the custom of feasting relatives and friends after a funeral was in full swing; in some rural commu- nities is still swinging. Some member of the numerous Bean connection had passed away, the relatives had returned from the grave-side and were served with a hearty meal at the house. When all had sufficed, one of the brothers walked to the door-yard, where a considerable number had gathered, and passing his hands slowly down over his well-supplied abdomen exclaimed : "1 am allers glad when some of my relations die because I get such a good sup- per at the funeral." The gods were astonished at such an admission. No sacrilege was intended by the speaker; the listeners received the statement as a "bean-blossom."
Cyrus Bean, who lived on the line of the old Alfred road, about one mile south of Bonnie Eagle, was for many years afflicted with a cancer in the face. He suffered beyond description and endured his pain with great patience and
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heroic fortitude. For many weary months he lingered on death's borderland, willing to cross the boundary, willing to remain on the life side. At length the day for his dissolution seemed to have come and neighbors were advised of the approaching crisis. Several were assembled in and about the house. Poor Ruth, his disconsolate wife, with great solicitude was watching at the bedside of her groaning husband, and being exceedingly dull of hearing, bent her ear to catch his dying words. She approached him to bathe his heaving chest with some alcohol when he yelled out, with a strong voice : "Ruth, you old trout, don't you wet the bed." After a little space, the neighbors heard a cat walking on the corn in the chamber overhead. This disturbed the suffer- ing man, but was not heard by his wife. As he raised his thin hand and pointed upwards, she supposed the supreme moment had come and that, in- spired by celestial vision, he was directing attention to that heaven to which his spirit was about to wing its flight: she tenderly bent over him as he shouted: " Ruth, you old haddock, I wish that cat was up North river." Filled with amazement at what they had seen and heard the neighbors retired to their homes, well satisfied that Cyrus Bean would not die that day-he did not.
While this suffering brother still lingered on the "shore of time," Uncle John Bean took a violent cold which, producing congestion, terminated, in a few days, fatally. A messenger was sent down to advise Charles, a younger brother, of the sad event. Filled with surprise, he raised his hands and cx- claimed : "I should a great deal rather it would be Cyrus."
When at length poor Cyrus cast his moorings and swung out upon the turbid stream, the same neighbor who had conveyed the announcement of John Bean's death carried the tidings of his demise to the brother before- mentioned. He received the sad news without any manifestation of surprise or sorrow, but made the remark: "Well, Cyrus couldn't expect to live for- ever." May we not hope that he will, in the other world?
Eleazer Kimball lived on " Bean street," on the plains, and was accus- tomed to keep and drive a very poor old horse. When on his way to the village at one time he was hailed by Charles Bean with this salutation: "Say, old Mr. Jehu, give me a ride;" then they jogged on together as merry as two cronies. While about the saw-mills the two were separated and Charles, fearing he would be obliged to make the journey home on foot, rushed into a store and in- quired : "Have any of ye seen E-le-a-zer with his drom-e-da-ry?" The way in which he divided the words " Eleazer " and "dromedary " into unheard of syllables, with the inimitable Bean accent used, gave this inquiry a most mirth- provoking character.
During the Millerism excitement of 1843, Blind Boothby, a good man who peddled fish about the country-side, embraced the doctrine of the imme- diate coming of the Lord. It came to pass that he drove a poor, lame horse. After disposing of his load, and when on his return toward the sea-coast for
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another stock, he was hailed from the roadside by "Ran" Bean : "Say, Mr. Both-e-by, why don't you have a better horse?" With great meekness the blind man replied : "If this one only lasts till Jesus comes that is all I ask." "Till Jesus comes? Your Jesus must meet ye between here and Biddeford," retorted the sarcastic "Ran."
Charles Bean was the best story-teller in the family, and the quaint, in- imitable expressions employed in the amplification of the various elements will not be forgotten by those who have listened to his recitals. But his "candle " story capped them all. To hear Charles relate the adventure was an event of a life-time. It ran something as follows: There was an unfinished room in one end of Captain Bean's house. Here the boys, great strapping- hungry fellows, resorted on evenings and parched corn in the embers of the great fire-place. They wanted a candle for light but the mother considered this an unwarranted extravagance and refused to indulge them; then their ready inventive faculties were called to aid in her circumvention and to pro- cure the desired candle. A large cake of tallow, kept for the purpose, had been hung in the entry to keep cool ; this was immediately taken possession of. The candle-mold was kept within range of the mother's eye and could not be removed without exciting suspicion. At this crisis "Jonathan espied the old dinner-horn hanging on a peg in the entry-way " and the problem was solved. But what about the wick? A barrel of "swingle-tow" was ready at hand; a wick quickly twisted and passed through the enormous trumpet (said Charles, "dinner-horns were a good deal bigger in those days than now"); a hunk of tallow melted in an old tin basin and poured into the great, elongated tunnel, and a giant candle was molded. It was stuck into a snow-bank to harden and then came the tug of war. The congealed tallow had conformed to the flaring mouth-piece of the trumpet and refused to "give beam." The trouble was soon discovered and as quickly obviated, for, as Charles said, "Jonathan stuck the small end of the old dinner-horn into the fire and melted the nipple off, and then we pulled the candle out." Fancy a tallow candle two feet in length and two and a half inches in diameter at its base. We will conclude the story in the language of the original narrator: "Well, sir, we burned that candle all that winter when snappin' corn in the old fore-rume and Jona- than, he burned the stub on't all the next winter in his tin barn lanthern; what d' ye think o' that, sir?"
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