Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary, Part 49

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 49
USA > New Hampshire > Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary > Part 49

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).

Hauling Up Corn .- For many years he did not plant any corn; this fact was not known to all the towns-people, and during a backward spring, when the seed was reluctant to appear, somebody asked Uncle Daniel how his corn came up. His reply was: "First rate, for I paid old Tut Eaton four cents a bushel to haul it up." At that time Tristram Eaton drove a team from the railway station in Buxton.

The New Cow-Bell .- During war times he and the deacon were visit- ing a sister in Portland, and while there, amid many ladies who were gathered in the parlor, were showing some articles purchased in the city to take home to their wives. Uncle Daniel brought in a new cow-bell which he said he had purchased as a present for his "old hemlock." Some one remarked that Aunt Deborah was now so old it was not necessary to put a bell on her, when he replied : " Yes, but not so old but she would like to be found sometimes."

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Without a Tear .- A few weeks before he died a neighbor called at his house, and found him shaving raft-pins for the lumbermen, an employ- ment he had followed for many winters. He said: "Uncle Daniel, your arms are not as strong as they were once." In reply he said : "No, for I have seen the day when I could make a thousand and not shed a tear."

Carried the Cat to Mill .- He was seen going down the "Decker lane " with a bag swung over his shoulder. As he approached, the villager discovered that Uncle Daniel was deeply affected and seemed to be weeping. As they met the young man asked the funny old farmer the cause of his sor- row. After a terrible "boo-hoo-ho," Uncle Daniel responded something as follows: "Well, Ephraim, I am carrying my poor old cat to mill. I had a nice pig, and we got out o' meal, so I had him ground for the old hog; the pig's all gone and now I'm obleeged to have the poor tabby ground to keep the hog alive; boo-hoo-hoo-o-o-o." The evident sincerity of the old man, with the anguish exhibited in his face, for the moment deceived the youngster who had accosted him. Years afterwards the whole scene was recalled by the villager when upon the yard-arm at sea, and he became so convulsed with laughter that he came near falling to the deck.

Peculiar Characters.

EORGE McDONALD, son of Peletiah McDonald, a Revolutionary soldier, lived on the bank of the "New river," in Standish, at the end of the bridge, where he built a small, narrow house, in which he lived a sort of hermit life for many years. He cultivated a small garden, but I do not know of any other source of income with which he supplied his temporal needs. He seemed to be a man of solitary habits, seldom venturing far from his house. I am not aware that he was ever married. His most prominent characteristic was a physical one -- a nose of abnormal and enormous proportions; high-colored, indented, and bearing evi- dence of being inflamed by having been used as a receptacle of ardent spirit. This facial appendage was the pioneer, forerunner, John the Baptist, of old George wherever he went; when that nose was seen heaving over a hill, com- ing round the corner, or passing your door, you might be sure George was not far in the rear. It seemed always to have been sent forward in advance, like a skirmisher, to feel out, or smell out, the way. It was broad at the nostrils, like that of a blooded horse, and by it danger could be scented afar off. Extending so far beyond his face, the slightest movement of the man's head gave it a swinging motion, and it appeared to be searching for something important that had been lost. It reminded an observer of a mammoth straw- berry with deep-set seeds. It bloomed like a great garden rose. The middle part, the body proper of the feature, was supported by two buttresses, or excrescences, at the sides, dropped in between it and his prominent cheeks; these side braces were of the same color and texture as the major part. His eyes were situated like two cabin dwellers on opposite sides of a mountain, who, if they had intercourse, must, perforce, climb over the summit or go a long way round. "So near and yet so far!" And such a nose proved in many instances a disadvantage, an obstruction. In the first place, it required considerable room to turn round in; this is obvious. Then, when drinking from a large, deep dish it must be used with but little in it; otherwise, the nose would take a bath long before the beverage would reach the lips. When reading a book or a newspaper, his nose would go rubbing over the page like that of a ruminating animal. His little eyes had been so long separated, and their line of vision diverted by this arbitrary and insurmountable barrier, that they did seem to turn away as if fearful that it might fall upon them and extin-

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guish their light forever. Each orb kept " bachelor's hall " and acted as inde- pendent as if no relation existed between them. There may have been some secret intercourse within the cranial chambers, but in the absence of all exter- nal evidence we are left in doubt.

So far as we know, the owner of this wonderful nose was a man of very quiet, unobtrusive, and uneventful life; and when he had run his mortal course, and death had laid him low, it is said that for many hours thereafter this part of his anatomy retained its florid freshness to such an extent that the neighbors doubted if he was really dead, and questioned the propriety of interment until it had shown more indications of being touched by the rider of the pale horse. He was, however, in due time consigned to the narrow house-necessarily deep-and the familiar and attractive nasal perambulator was greatly missed from the neighborhood. Peace be to its ashes !

"Squire" Yates Rogers was a little man of more than ordinary in- tellectual acumen and mechanical ability. He was descended from the Rogers family of Kittery, and that was heroic stock. His education was not of the university sort, but much better than that of his neighbors. Yates was indeed a genius. He had a shop near his house where he made substantial furni- ture. When the first skeleton clocks were brought into the community, Yates made cases for them that reached from floor to ceiling and were surmounted with ornamental and, to him, beautifully carved figures.

Well, Yates was commissioned as magistrate, and was frequently called to try small cases. Now he was a man of genuine old-time culture, dignified, courteous, and a correct linguist ; a real gentleman of old-school manners. Early in life-how early no one living could tell-he became possessed of a very full-skirted surtout coat that for length almost touched his heels when walking. The material was a real "Quaker drab," and plenty of it-for a little man. The waist was short and close-fitting, fortified with two rows of large, white bone buttons. When he went abroad, this coat, like the tradi- tional one of Old Grimes, was "all buttoned down before." He wore, on occasions of importance, a low-crowned, rather wide-rimmed fur hat of non descript color. This crowning article was uninfluenced and untouched by any changes in fashion for at least half a century. When "Squire" Rogers went from his little, red, wayside home to "sit on a case," the coat and hat inva- riably went too. Why, he would not have been recognizable without them. With staff in hand be would go forward as nimble as a boy; indeed, he was full of gimp, snap, or whatever you call it. When seen in advance, climbing a hill, his full, long-skirted coat gave him the appearance of an old woman. I would not have you think he regarded his official duties indifferently, not by any means. On the contrary, he was to the fullest extent conscious of the high dignity of his position, and the gravity of the cases under trial. You should have seen him in court to appreciate his bearing. He would take his seat

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among the lawyers, stick his goose-quill over his ear, and " strike an attitude " that was all-suggestive of lordly authority and eager attention. His face was small and thin, his features sharp, and his snapping gray eyes were over- shadowed by coarse, bristling brows: clean shaved, leaving only a small brush of beard on the temples. His iron-gray hair was raised high above his crown, and over his ears long locks were combed far forward like a pair of horns. About his neck, which was accommodatingly long, he wore the old- fashioned broad "stock" with its buckle behind; above this the points of his dickey were visible. Taking all these physical peculiarities, with his style of dress and manners, into account, he looked as formidable and profound as his size would admit of. Fancy his squealing goose-quill pen rapidly gliding over the paper, and how, when counsel offered objection to testimony and he was called to rule as to admissibility, he would clap his quill over his ear, elevate one eyebrow, close one eye, and with a nervous, twitching movement of his mouth, give his opinion. His voice was sharp and attenuated, his man- ner of speaking vehement and penetrating. When he hitched his chair back from the table and arose to give his verdict, all ears were bent to listen; indeed, the grave expression that he assumed, and the little majesty with which he carried himself on such occasions, not only commanded attention, but caused a sensation of awe. At one time when a lawyer was about to begin his plea, Squire Rogers rapped on the table and said: "Not a word, not a word, my mind is all made up." Squire Rogers had not only an impulsive temper, but a keen-edged, pronounced one that held on as long as he lived. When he was offended, the offensive person was sure to know it; with a vengeance, too. He was fearless and aggressive as a game cock, and would fight with tongue, or fist, if need be, but was never known to run from a foe. It has been said that he became angry with one of his neighbors whom he considered to be over- bearing, and as he cogitated over the affair, while working at his bench, he became more and more agitated, and when his hot temper could endure no more, he went in search of his victim, who was found in the village store. With war in his eye and teeth set hard, he walked up to Mr. L-, and holding his clenched bony fist near his face, said: "Whenever you see me, as long as you live, I want you to think that I know you are a tarnal liar." Read this sentence again and see how strong he framed it. "I want you to think I know," etc. That was just like the squire ; he could say very caustic and never-to-be-forgotten things.

"Old Aunt Rogers," the consort of Yates, was maiden named Rumery, Mary Rumery, and was married in 1806. She was quite antipodal to the squire, physically and mentally. Her form was very robust, short, and stout "all the way up and down." She was a jolly, easy-going, comfortable old body as ever you saw. A part of her dominion was the great barn where her hens laid many a snow-white egg, which Aunt Rogers "from the nest had

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taken, to put in cakes or fry with bacon." Sometimes, an old biddy of modest, secretive proclivity would "steal her nest " and deposit her oval tribute beyond the reach of her mistress. On one occasion, midway between breakfast and the dinner hour, Aunt Rogers went to the barn on an exploring expedition. Wishing to put her hand into a nest that she discovered upon a cross-beam, she climbed upon an inverted lime-cask, a large, old-styled one, and her weight burst the head in and her rotund body was instantly embarreled. The pointed nails that had been driven through the cask hoops caught in the old lady's skirts, and she could not extricate herself. In her desperate struggles for her liberty the barrel was overturned upon the barn floor, and, of course, Aunt Rogers went the same way. Here she strove and rolled about in mad and even fran- tic efforts to crawl out, but wherever she went the old cask, like Mary's lamb, " was sure to go." Her circumference was against success. After an im- prisonment of about three hours, Squire Rogers, coming in from the field, dis- covered her condition and hastened to the rescue. He braced his feet as he stood astride the cask, and held hard as his pursy old consort grasped a post and pulled with all her strength, but it was all futile; the "bilge " was full and she could not be disengaged. Squire Rogers was not wanting in inven- tive faculty. A bright idea struck him, and bidding his panting, perspiring wife to be patient, he hastened to his tool chest. Catching up a hand saw, he rushed back to the barn, sawed off the cask hoops and released his nearly exhausted and thoroughly disgusted companion from her embarrassment. it goes without statement that Aunt Rogers never again hunted hens' nests on a crazy old lime cask.

This quaint old pair lived to ripe age, but died sine prole, and left their snug little estate to those out of kin.

"Uncle David" Martin was a man of very peculiar temperament, and developed many marked traits of character, which became so conspicuous in his intercourse with others that they became the subject of local proverbs. During his early years he had been what old people called a "high-flyer"; a wandering, reckless fellow. He ran away to sea and became a regular "salt." He roamed about the world, visiting foreign ports, and never ceased spinning sailors' "yarns" as long as he lived. We remember one of these. The ship was at anchor in some European port when a man came on board from the interior who had never seen a nautical instrument, and observing the quad- rant, asked Martin what that was. "That's a New England dumpling-mould," replied the sailor, and the man went away with an air of satisfaction and a new bit of information.

When he had come from the sea, had married and settled in life, he some- times allowed his love of gain to overrule his principles of honor ; he went by night and hauled away a load of newly rived staves, belonging to a distant townsman. He was not detected, but made the staves into barrels and sold

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PECULIAR CHARACTERS.

them. Years passed and this neighbor removed to the West. Meanwhile " Uncle David " settled in Hollis, purchased a tract of good land, and by industry and frugal management had become a prosperous farmer. He had also become a professor of religion and was striving to live an honest life. But conscience opened her court, summoned him before her bar, and required him to make, to the extent of his ability, substantial restitution to those he had defrauded in early life. From this decision there was no appeal. He at once instituted inquiry for his old neighbor from whom he had stolen the staves so many years before. He was not found, but Uncle David promised God that if he ever had the opportunity, he would make restoration; where- upon, conscience, for the time being, adjourned her court, and allowed him to go his way. Years, many years, passed away, and while Uncle David was busy with his workmen, when building his new brick house, he heard of the return of the wronged neighbor to his native town, poor and broken down in health. Faithful to his vows, he called for his horse, changed his apparel, took an abrupt leave of his surprised family, and drove away to Baldwin. Here he found his man, who, of course, did not recognize him; frankly confessed his crime, paid him the full value of the stolen staves with interest, relieved his conscience of a grievous burden carried for many years, and returned home a happier man. He afterward learned that the honesty of this trans- action had so deeply impressed his early neighbor, that he was himself led to become a Christian, and that he had, with the money received from Uncle David, purchased a large Bible and a suit of decent clothes for church. This simple incident has its moral and clearly indicates the arbitrary power of a conscience under the government and light of the gospel. Though long years may pass, and her promptings are disregarded, she will at last bring the wrong-doer to an account; and her voice will not be silenced within the human breast until strict justice has been complied with and all her mandates obeyed.

During his residence in Hollis, he was a keen hunter and trapper, and evinced much cunning sagacity in circumventing the wary old fox that had repeatedly sprung the trap set for him and escaped unharmed. Snow was on the ground at the time, and by a careful examination of the tracks about the "fox-bed," Uncle David was convinced of the cunning trick played by reynard. It was seen that on smelling out the secreted trap, the fox would stretch him- self at full length upon the snow and strike across the jaws in such a way that he hit the "trencher" and sprung the trap without being caught. As the practised eye of the old hunter surveyed the spot, he might have been heard soliloquizing thus: "Well, Mister Fox, you think you are a smart, cunning, old fellow; but Uncle David will show you a trick you never thought of." The trap was turned one-quarter round and carefully covered as beforetime. On the following night, the fox played his old game and was caught by the fore-

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PECULIAR CHARACTERS.

leg in two places. As Uncle David approached, and discovered his captive entangled in some bushes near his "fox-bed," before dispatching him he re- hearsed the whole history of his previous conduct in the quaint parlance for which he was noted, and emphasized his statement with a smart blow upon reynard's yellow head.

Uncle David never lost his fondness for the sea, and annually, for many years, until prevented by infirmity, drove down to Saco, and went a-fishing with Uncle Nat Ridlon for skipper ; and many a jolly good time did these old sons of Neptune have together, as they handled the lines and pulled in the noble cod.

Being a moderate user of tobacco, his custom was to carry his quid in his vest pocket rolled up in a long, narrow piece of calfskin. He would unfold this, place the delicious morsel-as large as a pigeon's egg-in his mouth, and allow it to soak-for he never chewed it-for a half hour; then return it to his tobacco case and to his pocket. In this way, he would make a small plug of the "Indian weed," more properly called "hog-poison," last for sev- eral weeks.

For many years he wore Indian moccasins during winter and summer, and always persisted in going to meeting with them on the Sabbath.

In his intercourse and financial dealings with his neighbors, he was ever punctual and truthful to a nice degree. If he borrowed a tool, he would return it immediately when done using it, even when pressure of work re- quired attention. He once went half a mile to return a pin he had picked up and thoughtlessly put into his coat ; said it was not his, and he would not keep it.

The Basket-Maker .- Many now living will remember that singular character known as Tom Webster, who, with his aged mother, wandered about the Saco river towns selling baskets, the most ill shaped and coarse wares ever formed from wood. No one could form an approximate estimate of his age. It was tradition that, being a very nervous child, he had been frightened by stories related to him about the savage deeds of the Indians. At any rate, he was the most abnormal man ever seen or heard of. His face was drawn into indescribable contortions and his expression was sometimes frightful. His speech was as singular and unintelligible as his face was repelling. Dressed in rags, he would come into the villages nearly covered with piles of baskets, his poor old mother either at his side or wearily walking behind him; and he would scream out to any he might meet : " Buy a basket, dear, pretty little basket with two covers, one to put on and one to take off, dear." When exchanging his wares for goods at the stores, he always called for "biscuits," meaning crackers. It was: "Give me few biscuits, dear; marm, she likes biscuits." He was shy and distrustful, usually standing with his back against a building or fence, where he could watch every approach. It was truly

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PECULIAR CHARACTERS.

pathetic to witness the devotion of the poor old mother, who accompanied this strange son from town to town. She went with him as long as her strength held out, and protected him from the insults and impositions of such fools as were disposed to ill-treat him. These lived in an old hnt, isolated from neigh- bors, back on the plains. When the aged mother died and Thomas was left alone, he was carried to the town-farm and comfortably provided for. His portrait was sketched while weaving the "basket bottom" into a chair, and is now hanging in the Ellis B. Usher mansion at Bar Mills.

Patchwork and Quilting- Frames.

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."-Solomon. HE swarthy-complexioned proverb maker was much more than half right when he formulated the above statement some twenty-eight centuries ago, and his language was especially applicable to the customs in vogue among the early generations settled in the Saco valley plantations, who designated the seasons for attending to the various departments of farm work and indoor duties by the prefixed name of that which engaged their attention. Their chronology was not tabulated by weeks or months, but they talked of corn-spindle time, flax-bloom time, roast-ear time, reaping time, and housing time; the women, of milking time, churning time, and quilting time. What the house-rolling and corn-husking were, prac- tically and socially, to the male persuasion, during the colonial period, the apple-bee and quilting-party meant to the women folk within doors. These occasions were an embryo from which the modern sewing circle was evolved; the old wine was poured into new bottles, but the flavor remained the same. Those old capped and kerchiefed daughters of Eve who gathered about the quilting-frames one hundred years ago had nimble fingers for driving their shining needles and limber tongues for discussing neighborhood affairs, same as those who help to form the sewing and talking circle of today. Such insti- tutions were very beneficial and sometimes exceedingly hurtful; they were like the Scotchman's opinion of the patriarch Jacob; he was "pairtly good and pairtly bad"-same as other people. Like fire, steam, and explosives, these convocations might be useful or prove to be an agency of destruction. As there were no local newspapers to serve as scavengers of neighborhood gossip, those who held quilting conventions could find some excuse for spread- ing such infectious rubbish as always accumulates in rural districts. They must, perforce, employ their restless tongues, and, as wholesome materials for conversation sometimes ran low in these sparsely populated settlements, they quickly seized such as came to hand. Their discussions involved such sub- jects as dreams, visions, ghosts, witches, fairies, old women's surmises, guesses, wagers, and "come-uppances."

Materials for quilting were about as "skeirce" among the early settlers' wives and daughters as news. The "squares " were nearly all of woolen. A few bits of bright-colored cloth for central positions were highly valued, and we have seen a quilt largely made from a red broadcloth cloak once worn by

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a lord mayor of London and brought to Salisbury, Mass., by the ancestors of the Merrill family. Every piece of cloth was saved, and that woman who could spare a few squares for the quilt being made by some young wife, whose "toucher " had been meagre, was looked upon as a benefactress. When the old train-bands were broken up the women had an hilarious time making quilts from uniform coats of blue and buff. An old, well-worn blanket was some- times used for a lining.

The quilting-frames, early called "poles," were some ten feet long, pierced with a series of small holes and held together by wooden pins at the corners. These were adjusted to the size of the quilt and supported upon the backs of four chairs, which were weighted with sad-irons and stones to keep them from falling over. When all " squares " for the quilt were conjoined, it was "tacked" into the poles with twine and rolled up until the quilting-party assembled.

It was "quilting time" in the Skillingsville settlement, and Sally Single- ton was the first to send forth invitations for help. Lias Singleton, her man, carried the notifications that a quilting-bee would be held on Hornbeam hill at such a day. Now the Singleton house was situated on the southwest cant of the hill, just below the brow thereof. It was remote from other houses, and not easy of approach. When the pioneers came into the wilderness pros- pecting for lands there were no roads, and they built their cabins near a good spring of pure water and waited for roads, which were made in dne time, to find them. When Lias Singleton went down to the "Sloan clearing," where a cluster of log-houses had been built around a small mill, where a consider- able village stands today, to circulate invitations to Sally's quilting, he found one family, more recently moved into the plantation, who knew not where Hornbeam hill was, nor did they know how to find their way by such devious paths as were made in the new settlements. Mrs. Linderman said it would afford her a store of delight to be present at the quilting, but she did not think she could find her way to Hornbeam. Lias said he could make it as clear as sunlight. He went to the fireplace, seized a piece of charcoal, went down on his knees at the hearth, and began to draw an outline map of the Skillingsville settlement, and as he traced the route to Hornbeam hill, he delivered himself in descriptive phrase as followeth: "I will now pint out the way. You'll jist foller the spruce valley cart-road until it tapers off down where Sam Hunk- ing's pole bars open into his wood-lot. You'll climb over there'n wind along the hill-side and down through the swale to Hornpout brook, where you'll cross on a forked log; then go down the bank, and you'll come out on Paul Lar- comb's burnt ground, where there's a leaning, spall-butted, old hemlock, near the cow-path where the critters come down to drink. Well, now foller the cow-path up the black ash gulley till yon reach the top of the slag; it's jist a leetle ways from there to the brow of Hornbeam, and our cabin's right under your nose on the sou'east cant. Of course you can find the way."

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Saco Valley settlements and families. Historical, biographical, genealogical, traditional, and legendary, Part 49

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