USA > New Hampshire > Hillsborough County > Hillsborough > The history of Hillsborough, New Hampshire, 1735-1921, Volume 1 > Part 27
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309
BOG ROAD.
An old road which particularly interested your committee is at the present time used only for reaching fields and pastures. The entrance is a short distance north and beyond the site of the old Stephen Farrar homestead. One lovely October day a few years ago your writer, in company with Mr. Story, took a carriage ride over this deserted trail, determined to explore to the very end of the path, not knowing where we might find ourselves at last. The traveling proved to be very rough and hilly ; the track overgrown with stubby grass much of the way; in other places pebbles and sizable rocks; but we were not to be discouraged. The forest views far and near were dazzling, in the gorgeous autumnal colorings of scarlet, yellow, and rich shading of brown; as usual we passed deserted homes, neglected orchards, broken walls and the inevitable cellar holes, indeed a shadow of sadness came to us, thinking of what had been, knowing that noble and brave people had gone from their mountain homes.
Presently we came to a delightful shade near a babbling brook; in this place we chose to partake of our lunch, feed our faithful horse, and enjoy a rest in one of Nature's beauty spots. After which we continued our tour of investigation always wondering where we were at. After a number of miles farther we were greatly surprised in finding ourselves at West Henniker. This is the oldest road from the north part of Hillsborough to Henniker.
From the old John Dane place, in the north part of the town, there was a short road, and at that time very convenient and necessary for the public good called the "Bog road." This term does not apply correctly to the road now called by that name. From the Dane farm, this old road or trail passed through pastures and fields towards the northeast, until it came to a swamp that could not be crossed in safety, consequently our good old ancestors considered ways and means and finally decided to overcome the difficulty by building a corduroy road to reach from shore to shore, which for the time being fully answered the purpose of a more permanent bridge. This road led to the top of the hill, where lived and thrived Amos Kimball. All traces of this road are now lost. Now a wooden bridge spans the bog or swamp in place of the corduroy. (This item was
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HISTORY OF HILLSBOROUGH.
contributed by Isaac Wilkins.) Another trail starting from the ruins of the farm buildings of Clark Kimball is an old road now seldom used, leading towards the east, crosses the road which passes the old Fanny Batchelder house; leads down the hill towards Campbell Pond sometimes called Gould Pond; then taking the first left-handed trail, which follows the crest of the hill for some distance, passing through two or three old farms, one owned by a Mr. Patten, another by a Mr. Campbell, pre- sumably Mr. C. gave his name to the pond as it was first known by that name. Following this almost mythical trail you come to the site of the Amos Kimball farm buildings now in ruins. The last portion of this trail is nearly lost and can only be traced with uncertainty, as we were informed by one who was familiar with the route in boyhood days.
The Dane Hill! What is now a mere cow-path leading to valuable pasturage, was in the days of long ago an important thoroughfare for influential and worthy people; namely, Zacha- riah Robbins, Eben Griffin, Timothy Dane, William Stow, Daniel Griffin, and Parker Kimball, all of whom have long since passed to their reward. This trail is found by taking the Hillsborough Centre road, past the historical Bond homestead also the James Wilkin's farm; follow the first left hand road you come to which leads you up hill and down vale for quite a long distance, passing old orchards, cellar holes and ruinous walls and fences, until you descend a long hill at the foot of which there is an abrupt turn to the right ; pause right there and look straight ahead before taking the right hand road, for on the hill before you, you can see un- mistakable signs of an old road, the broken chain of walls each side of the grass and weed grown trail plainly showing you where once the first surveyed road from Hillsborough to Brad- ford was made and much traveled in those far-away days. Now turn at the sharp bend of the road eastward, previously spoken of, which will take you onto a strip of road, connecting Dane hill with the Elmwood district; on this road once lived several families one of whom was David Kimball, an ancester of Vernor Kimball; another place marked by a cellar hole, once the home
3II
OLD MOORE ROAD.
of Phineas Holden, whose son Horace Holden suffered so ter- ribly at the hands of the cannibals, following a disastrous ship- wreck.
Continue to follow this trail, turn directly to the first left hand path, follow the brook road and you come to the termination of the old trail, where once lived the Elmwoods.
A trail more interesting than any other to the D. A. R. Chapter is that of the old Moore road. In the earlier times of this town, Bible Hill was a central location for the few pioneers who had ventured thus far into the wilderness. It was the meeting place for their religious gatherings, and for important business. Accordingly a road was surveyed starting from the Lower Village at a point between the John Dickey place and where lives Ira Jackman, the route passed back of those homes towards the east, by the Augustus Kimball place, across the Beard road, then followed up the Bible Hill road to the Samuel Bradford tavern which was the halting place for the stage coach carrying the mail and travelers if by chance any wished to visit so lonely and bleak a country place. Only a few families were there at that retreat in the wilderness; one of prominence was Samuel Symonds, who brought the bible with him, the first in the settlement. The Bradford tavern is yet standing ; the house lately occupied by George Tuttle and family. One of the original floors remain, the boards of which are held down by wooden pegs, the heads of which are an inch square (Authority, Mrs. George Tuttle.)
Now to follow the trail from the tavern, continue on the way by entering where are now the bars of George Tuttle's cattle pasture, cross intervening pastures and woodland, finally the trail connects with the Centre road a few rods below the old Samuel Baker place. At this junction was a dwelling house, owned and occupied by Mr. Nichols. The location is distinctly marked by the cellar hole. There were families along this road between the Bradford tavern and the Nichols place, among whom were Jonathan Durant and Isaac Baldwin, our martyr patriot, also William Pope, who owned much land-a large section of which is called the "Pope Lot." It is with difficulty that this trail
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HISTORY OF HILLSBOROUGH.
can be accurately marked, because of the displacement of walls and the growth of shrubs and trees. November 2, 1896, Mrs. James Butler, Mrs. Clinton Newman, and Mrs. William H. Story made a trip over a portion of this trail, from the Beard road to the present road which now passes over Bible Hill. This Moore road was surveyed and worked long before the present road was laid out.
CHAPTER XVI.
STAGE COACH DAYS.
Development of Travel-First Mail Traveler-Jacob Smith-Three Papers Published Prior to 1812-Method of Circulation-The Mounted Post Rider-A Picturesque Character-Post Rider Suc- ceeded by Stage Driver-Passengers Carried as Well as Mail- First Stage Driven by Horace Hubbard-Famous Concord Stage- Manufactured by Lewis Downing-Rapid Growth-Five Stage Lines in Hillsborough-The Runaway Coach-Stage Drivers-How Hatch Burnham Earned Two Gold-mounted Whips-Spirit of the Days of the Stage Coach.
While the inhabitants of the different towns throughout the state acted slowly in co-operating so as to extend the roads beyond the bounds of their bailiwick, outside influence was brought to bear upon the development of travel. This was the government and the object behind this move was the carrying of the post, as scarce as letters were in those days and as few as were the papers. Yet the people were awaking to the fact that they had friends beyond their narrow orbit of association. Thus the social question called for wider action. More important than this was the matter of business, hence one and all grasped easily at, what seemed to them, the most wonderful undertaking of the post rider. No man in the entire country did more towards establishing post routes and post offices than Benjamin Franklin.
As has been stated government established a post route from Concord through Hillsborough to Charlestown on the Con- necticut, with the provision that the people should pay for carry- ing the mail. The first mail carrier on this line was Jacob Smith, who made the round trip weekly. With what pleasure and interest this rider was received along his route may be imagined. His salary the first year was fifty dollars but the second year he received a hundred dollars and he was paid by the government. Some time in the second year Mr. Smith was succeeded by John Philbrick, who continued on the route for twelve years, and he
313
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HISTORY OF HILLSBOROUGH.
was as punctual as the railroads of today. His course through Hillsborough was by the way of the Centre, and the clarion note of his horn could be heard on clear mornings when he was half a mile away. This warning note was given that the postmasters might have their mail ready for him so as to allow of the shortest stop possible with good service. It is needless to say that every- body knew him along his route and that he was very popular.
Prior to 1812 there were three papers taken in town, and these were Farmer's Cabinet, published at Amherst ; Hill's Patriot and Tuttle's Concord Gazette, both at Concord. These publica- tions were not entered as mail matter, but were circulated by their subscribers. The publishers notified these post carriers by writing upon their papers when the time came, "Your turn next." The person receiving this notice rode the following week on horseback to the office and brought back the papers directed to each subscriber.
A more sightly or picturesque character than the mounted post rider could not well be imagined, as he swept over some elevated section of the highway where the wintry wind laughed with cutting scorn at his reckless riding. With the graceful poise of an old cavalryman he bestrode his gallant steed, its nostrils and flanks white with the morning frost, while his tight-fitting jacket was buttoned closely about his stalwart form, his fur cap pulled down over his ears, half concealing his clear-cut, good- natured countenance, and the flowing ends of his crimson scarf streaming in the air like the pennons of a ship stemming the gale.
Add to his picture the blare of his bugle horn, the clouds of snow-dust that ever and anon enveloped himself and steed, with the expectant looks upon the faces of the watchers peering out of the windows along his course as he sped by, flinging to one a letter and another a paper, calling back cheerily as he disappeared like a spectre of the road:
"A piping morning! Snow to-morrow! Bill Robbins has heard from his brother in South America. The bridge has gone down across the Contoocook in Hopkinton !"
Early in the 18th century the post rider was succeeded by the stage driver. By this time it was seen that as well as carrying the mail passengers might be transported and thus add to the
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HEYDAY OF THE STAGE COACH.
profit. The first stage to pass through Hillsborough followed almost identically the route of the post rider, and came from Concord through to Charlestown. The wagon was two seated and had a canvas cover to protect the passengers from the weather. It was drawn by two horses driven by Horace Hub- bard, who owned an interest in the outfit.
With the improvements made in the roads travel by stage increased rapidly, until the country was crossed and cris-crossed by a network of coach routes. Taverns to accomodate the travel- ing public sprang up at almost every corner. In truth they did stand at every two mile distance and did a thriving business.
Not only were there many local lines but so extensive had the undertaking become that there was a line of stages established from New Hampshire to Georgia, which plied regularly and besides the traffic in passengers carried several mails by order and permission of Congress. Piping days for the stage coach developed, though this cannot be said to have actually arrived until the introduction of the Concord wagon, with its body hung on thoroughbraces, this invention eliminating the hardship of riding in wagons whose bodies were placed directly upon the axles. Travel in one of these vehicles has been described as a nightmare.
The manufacture of the famous Concord stage coach was begun by Lewis Downing of Concord in 1813, and within a few. years these carriages, known and used the country over, helped carry civilization from the Atlantic shores to the Pacific. They were seen moving merrily across the western plains or thread- ing as the needle's eye the passes of the Rocky mountains. So rapidly did the enterprise flourish that within fifteen years twenty-five stage coaches, loaded with passengers and carrying the news of the day, departed every morning from Concord and as many arrived there every evening.
The oldtime stage made its trips with clock-like regularity, and could be counted upon to make them with safety and cer- tainty. A great number of people were transported in these vehicles, and if these journeys were attended with more or less discomfort, there was withal a generous amount of pleasure in the old-fashioned way of traveling.
1
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HISTORY OF HILLSBOROUGH.
In stage coach days a large amount of heavy teaming was done, this traffic moved mostly by ox teams, though not infre- quently great wagons drawn by four, six, or eight horses pulled the ponderous loads over the hills and through the valleys en route to Boston or some other market near the sea coast. These teams usually loaded both ways, on the downward trip bearing produce of the farm, or manufactured articles, and bringing back provisions as were needed in household life. The horse team averaged about twenty-five miles a day; the oxen a little less, but there was not as much difference as might at first be supposed.
In all this bustle and activity Hillsborough knew and did her part. At one period or another there were at least five stage lines running through the town, two of these starting from the Lower Village which was then the industrial centre of the town. One of these routes led to Lempster, then a thriving travel point, and the other made a direct route to Keene. One route came from Washington, one from Deering and the last ran through the Centre to East Washington. The Concord line to Keene had then been discontinued. Yet another line came from Amherst through Mont Vernon, a corner of New Boston and Lyndebor- ough, through Francestown, Antrim to Hillsborough Lower Village. This coach was driven for a considerable time by an old favorite, Edwin Foster. It is related that when on one of these trips the stage stopped as usual at the post-office at Frances- town. It took longer than common to change the mail, or the driver had an extra story to tell, for the three spirited spans of horses became uneasy, and started off at the top of their speed with eight or ten passengers aboard. Upon hearing the thunder- ing of the wheels the driver rushed out of the post-office to see the coach just disappearing behind a cloud of dust in the distance. Without hesitation Foster commandeered the nearest team from among the dozen or more hitched in the yard, and gave furious pursuit. It proved he had taken a fleet horse, but do the best he could it was impossible for him to get near enough to stop the runaways until Gibson's tavern had been reached, fully three miles on the route. According to custom the well trained stage horses turned into the yard and swung as accurately along side
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OLDTIME STAGE DRIVER.
of the stone steps as if they had been guided by their master. There they stopped with their usual abruptness, and not one of the passengers knew of the runaway until told.
It would be difficult if not impossible to obtain a complete list of the stage drivers who drove the stages of Hillsborough. Among the scattered records and traditions handed down from those days have been preserved the names of the following drivers around whose service cling distinctive memories : Horace Hubbard, Matthew Parker, John Dane, Robert Moore, Silas Gibson, Samuel Keith (father of B. F. Keith of theatre fame), Solomon Gee, George Way, Billy Ordway, Milo Smith and Hatch Burnham. Not all of these were natives of Hillsborough, while it is very doubtful if they are given in chronological order.
In the 50s the stage out of Lower Village was driven by Billy Ordway, who hailed from somewhere in the vicinity. Billy was one of the best reinsmen who ever pulled the "ribbons" over the backs of a spanking team of six sleek horses. When the railroad came, like hundreds of others, Billy found himself out of a job but took up with Horace Greeley's advice, anticipating it before it was given, by going west and becoming a famous driver on one of the Overland stages. His route took him out of Denver into the mountain region, dangerous at many places. Noted for his clear head it was his boast that during that fifteen years he never missed a trip nor lost a life, let the storm rage however bitter or the winding road be ever so coated with a treacherous mail of ice. Neither did the strong box intrusted to his care ever fall into the hands of some daring and desperate road-agent.
Billy's favorite team was composed of five splendid bay mares, known as the "Mountain Maids," and an equally trusty horse called "Old Joe." Six nobler animals, as fleet as the wind, as sure footed as the mountain cat, as spirited as a well-fed equine, never drew stage over the mountains of Colorado. They knew their master's voice on the instant, and were certain to obey him with a promptness somewhat marvelous.
Billy was driving this team in 1868, when he made a trip that became memorable, taking as his passengers Generals Grant, Sheridan and Dent from the summit of Guy Hill to Golden City,
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HISTORY OF HILLSBOROUGH.
a distance of nine miles in thirty-six minutes by Sheridan's watch. Grant never forgot that ride, nor ceased to praise the beauty of the horses, or Billy's skill in managing them. To the grizzled stager it was the proudest day of his life, when the great commander sat beside him on the box and extolled the virtues of his "Mountain Maids." Like his comrades in the East, Billy finally lost his line and was driven from his calling by the ap- pearance of the iron horse, but to his dying day, nothing suited him better than to relate some of his adventures in the period when he ranked high among the overland stage drivers.
One of the last of the Hillsborough stage drivers and the best remembered by those living to-day was Hatch Burnham, a brother of Dr. Abel C. Burnham, who drove the stage for several years between Hillsborough and Keene. He lacked the peculiar dignity that belonged to the typical stage driver of the old school, was brusque in his manner and a man of few, crusty words yet withal he had a kind heart. A pet dog usually met him on his return from these trips and springing to the seat would sit bolt upright on the seat beside him whatever the weather. When the dog became too feeble to mount to his accustumed place his master would stop his team, clamber down to the ground and lift him up as carefully as one might a child. The old stager staid over each alternate night in Keene and over Sunday, and so keenly did this intelligent dog keep the passage of time that he never missed the day nor hour on which his master was due, nor did he ever go to meet him on Sunday.
Hatch was the fortunate possessor of two gold-mounted whips, which he ordered to be buried with him. These prized instruments, which he owned with a great deal of pride, were both given him for acts of humane benevolence that gave him the ear- marks of a hero. At one time he made a wintry drive when the snow lay deep and drifted along the way, so that finally he was obliged to unhitch his horses and plunge ahead on foot. He had one passenger on this trip, an oldish man, who soon was unable to follow in the footsteps of the horses, though Hatch had trampled down the snow ahead of the animals. The old stager then helped the man onto the back of one of the horses, but obliged to hold him there Hatch was unable to make a path for
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HATCH BURNHAM.
the horses, which came to a standstill after going some rods. It was a bitter winter day, the wind blowing a gale and filling the air with the blinding particles of the storm. Unable to proceed further as he was, Hatch had the man slip from his seat into his arms, and leaving the horses to follow at will the doughty old driver resolutely plunged through the deep snow on towards a farmhouse a quarter of a mile ahead. How nearly exhausted he was when he staggered up to the door of the farmer to be received with his burden with wide-opened arms, Hatch Burnham never told. But he had saved the life of his passenger, and later the latter presented him with one of the beautiful whips, and along with it the tidy sum of five hundred dollars. The other whip was won by an equally humane and difficult deed. So, if brusque and taciturn to uncivility even to his friends, a kind heart beat under the jacket of Hatch Burnham.
Ah, those knights of the ribbon belonged to a distinct class of men. The steam horse may get us there in shorter time, or the automobile swifter yet, but still both lack the keen interest, the good-natured enthusiasm, the attraction that drew a crowd equal to the good old Concord coach drawn by six spirited horses, managed by some grizzled sun-tanned veteran of the whip and filled to over flowing with a merry party of travelers. Everyone knew when to expect the stage, and before the hour for its arrival drew near a crowd would begin to assemble at the store where the post office was kept. Suddenly the conversation upon the every-day topics of the weather, crops, etc., and all arguments, political or otherwise, would be hushed as one of the number would exclaim :
"There she comes! Milo is on time to-night," as if every one did not expect he would be. The rumble of heavy wheels would then be heard, and a little later the old Concord coach, rocking on its thorough-braces under its score of passengers, drawn by six well-groomed horses would loom into view against the evening sky, above the din of rolling wheels and the ring of steel-shod heels the loud crack of the long blacksnake whip would hiss and snap. The intelligent horses seemed to understand what was expected of them, and they would settle into a smart canter on this their last lap, the coach swaying to and fro as if
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HISTORY OF HILLSBOROUGH.
keeping time to the merry music of the wheels. The passen- gers, those inside the vehicle and the half-dozen or more perched upon the top, all seemed to have caught the spirit of the home- coming and they waved their hats or gave expression to their exuberance of spirits by other manifestations of delight, swinging gracefully around the curve leading into the yard at a spanking gait which seemed to threaten a further flight before they could be brought to a halt. But the loud "whoa !" from their master would be scarcely uttered before the intelligent creatures would come to a stop at exactly the usual point. Then calmly winding the reins about the whipstock, the driver would step down from his lofty perch as quietly as if it were an every-day occurrence. In truth it was, but not of an ordinary order.
"These old stage drivers they have gone their ways, The old stage drivers with their dash and trust!
These old stage drivers they have gone their ways,
But their deeds live on, though their bones are dust."
1
BANK FRENCH
From a painting by FRANK FRENCH.
THE VENDUE, MANAHAN, Auctioneer.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE FARMS AND FARMERS OF YESTERDAY.
From Trail to Highway-When Hillsborough Was Strictly a Farming Town-The Effect of the Civil War upon Country Communities- The Farmer a "Jack at all Trades"-The Industrious House- Wife Equally as Thrifty-A Pen Picture of the "Good Old Days"- Going to Church on the Sabbath-Suppressed Excitement Which Threatened the Equilibrium of Our Religion-A Parson's Peculiar Predicament-"The Devil is in my Breeches !"-A Sunday Dinner Salting the Cattle-Home Manufactures-"Tapping" the Maples- Soap Making-Gathering Herbs-Destruction of the Forest- "Modern Conveniences"-Linen Manufacture-The Well-The Prospect Today.
The road from Bridge Village to the Centre is a pleasant walk for a strong-limbed pedestrian, and as we slowly follow the well-oiled, hard-crusted way over which the modern car rolls with surprising rapidity-we would fain go slowly, for the scene is too attractive to move otherwise-we pity the man hurrying past in his lightning vehicle, as if the Old Harry was after him, which he may be! It was over this same route, guided by blazed trees and the footsteps of wild beasts, that the McColleys, Gib- sons, Lyons and their comrades, the rugged masculineness of their presence softened by the companionship of a single woman, marched on the day before yesterday.
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