USA > New Hampshire > Grafton County > Warren > The history of Warren; a mountain hamlet, located among the White hills of New Hampshire > Part 21
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HISTORY OF WARREN.
old decaying log up in the pines by Indian rock; a blue jay was ducking its crest and hustling the water with its wings; on the shore a sand piper crying weet, jumped up on a great stone, then ran fast by the water under the bending grass ; hoar hound, cranes- bill and honey suckle lent a delicious fragrance to the air and bright clouds mirrored in the clear water were floating away and losing themselves in the deep blue beyond old Mount Carr and Moosehillock mountain.
But these were only the beauties of the pond fit for the boys to look at; the utility of the grist mill joined with that of the saw- mill constituted one of the mighty agents which wrought such great changes in our mountain hamlet.
CHAPTER V.
NARRATING HOW TWO MEN, STEVENS MERRILL AND JAMES AIKEN, .LOVED EACH OTHER,-HOW THE LAWS WERE EXECUTED AND A HOUSE BURNED UP, CONCLUDING WITH A PIOUS INQUIRY WOR- THY OF ALL GOOD CHRISTIANS.
WE have said lively changing scenes are soon to come. But let us not be in a hurry to enter upon them. Pause a moment! These are the halcyon days of our little mountain hamlet. Eight beautiful summers have come and gone since it was settled. Our pioneers are living all this time in the most rustic simplicity. There is nought to disturb them, nought to make them afraid. There were no doctors to physic them to death, no ministers to preach war and bloodshed instead of peace and love, and no pet- tifogging lawyers to send caitiff scouts, catch-polls, and bum-bailiffs to distrain, to attach, and to arrest. In fact there was not a lawyer, sheriff, judge, court, or jailor within sixty miles of our little hamlet among the hills. Neighbor loved neighbor, the golden rule was observed, and peace, happiness, and good will pre- vailed, and all was harmony serene. It was a place of which poets loved to sing -of old woods, clear rushing streams, wild and lofty mountains, where even the gods would dwell.
But wait, perhaps everything is not quite so nice after all. Men are human even here. Either civil law or club law must pre- vail in every community, and we shall soon see that in the ab- sence of civil law they sometimes used the club right freely in our good old mountain town.
James Aiken, as previously described, was a lusty Celt.from
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HISTORY OF WARREN.
the Emerald Isle, and Stevens Merrill was a medium sized man, a Quaker of the straightest sect, stern in aspect and slow in speech. We have before said that they both settled on the same lot of land ; the first a gentle squatter, the second had purchased it of the lordly proprietors and had a good warrantee deed of the premises. It was natural that one having a good comfortable cabin and a few broad acres nicely cleared should want to stay; and that the other having an excellent title bought with his own hard cash should want the first to leave. Consequently there would be a dignified reserve between the two lords of the soil.
When they first met the Quaker gently hinted to the Celt that he had no title to his land. He did not take the hint. At the next cordial interview Mr. M. said, " Thee must leave," Aiken " did not see it.". Next time, a week or so later, Stevens Merrill told him, " Thee have got to go, and if thee do not," said he, " I will serve a process on thee, a writ of ejectment." At this Mr. Aiken laughed politely, then said decidedly, "D-d if I will go." Quaker blood, so peaceful, now boiled like a little pot on hearing this so profane, so unchristian reply, and he inwardly determined to have his rights, legally if he could, by hook or crook if neces- sary. They did not speak at the next meeting, only eyed each other askance.
Aiken knew by the appearance of things there was trouble brewing and so kept close at home to protect himself and property.
But in process of time it became absolutely necessary for him to go down the valley to the neighboring land of Wentworth, where his brother had settled, for supplies. He went very quietly one morning, away round through the woods down on the east side of Patch brook, next to the foot of the hill, so no one would see him. But he was not so fortunate as could be desired. Our keen eyed hunter, Joseph Patch, was looking about his premises and by chance saw him. He knew what his father-in-law wanted, how hard he had tried to get a writ of ejectment, but could not very well do it on account of distance, bad roads, and expense, so he hurried away to tell him that this was the time for the strategy devised, the opportunity to execute a splendid flank movement.
Stevens Merrill made no delay. He forded the river and crossed the meadow. 'Twas a bright autumn day. A lagging
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QUAKER VS. CELT.
wind blew over the plain, rustling the beeches and maples. On the edge of the clearing he stopped to reconnoitre; the cabin stood in the centre, a little brook was babbling beside it, three children were playing at the door, and the buzz of a linen wheel was heard within.
" It is a bad job," he said to himself, " but it will be worse if it is delayed." Entering the cabin he told Mrs. Aiken she must leave. " An faith I won't," said she. "But thee will," said Mr. M. " I'll see about it," said she, and sprang for an axe that stood in the corner. But Stevens Merrill was too quick for her. He wrenched it from her grasp and then affectionately ejected ler from the cabin. The children screamed and Mrs. A. threatened vengeance. But it was no use. Mr. M. began to pitch the things out, and seeing his determination they picked up their extra clothing and trudged away down the bridle path to John Mills' as fast as their legs would carry them.
He moved all the rest of the furniture out carefully, even the linen wheel and the pots and kettles that hung on the stout lug pole* in the great fire place, carried them to a safe distance and then set fire to the cabin. The wind freshened, the smoke curled up and floated away over the woods, the flames roared and leaped about, and in an hour the pleasant dwelling was a mass of black- ened ruins.
When James Aiken came back they told him the news at John Mills'. He was terribly mad and swore that he "would have revenge-that old Merrill had committed arson-that he should be locked up between the four walls of a prison -that he was the devil's own and the regular son of a dog mother," to speak politely what the Celt said plump and plain.
Stevens Merrill kept a watch about his own cabin every night, himself, sons, and son-in-law, by turns, until their friend had
* In the chimney, across the flue, was the lug pole, made of green beech or ma- ple from two to four inches in diameter, and on which were hung hooks and tram- mels of wrought iron, so constructed as to be raised or lowered to suit the con- venience of the pots and kettles suspended thereon for culinary purposes. These lug poles were liable to be burnt by the fire which blazed beneath and broken by the weight suspended on them, and in due time gave place to the crane which was constructed of iron and fastened on one side to the chimney jamb, while the end swung over the fire with the hooks and trammels on it .- Jacob Patch's state- ment.
Stevens Merrill drove Aiken off and burnt his cabin .- Deacon Jonathan Cleni- ents' statement.
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HISTORY OF WARREN
moved his goods away and had gone to his brother's in Went- worth. Even then he did not feel quite safe, for he knew he had not done just right taking the law into his own hands.
James Aiken afterwards went back down country. When . people came down he would ask if " Stevens Merrill had gone to hell, for if he had not," said he, " hell no need to have been made ;" a pious remark, showing the deep love he had for his gen- tle friend.
Our Quaker settler from this time forward cultivated the Irishman's field and took pains to obliterate his memory. But the old cellar, now almost filled up, yet remains to mark the spot where this dire calamity happened, and the little brook running down on the second of the geological terraces and near which stood the Irishman's cabin, bears his name and is called Aiken brook even to this day.
CHAPTER VI.
MOUNT CARR, ITS ANCIENT INHABITANTS; AND THEN OF THE GRAND OLD HUNTINGS THAT WERE HAD ABOUT IT, WITH A BEAUTIFUL MOOSEHILLOCK DESCRIPTION THROWN IN FOR VARIETY.
MOUNT CARR is a grand old mountain. It rises 3,506 feet above the ocean, is covered with a dense forest even to the summit and occupies a part of the following four townships: The ancient Trecothick, now Ellsworth, Romney, now called Rumney, as aforesaid, Wentwortli, and our own mountain hamlet.
It derives its name from the following circumstance, which we prefer to tell as it was told years ago, and the reader without doubt will think it a " delectable tale." "When the country was first settled and its geography but little known, a certain Mr. Carr, wishing to proceed from Trecothick to Warren, attempted to cross the mountain. At the time he started the sky was free from clouds, and every appearance gave sign of pleasant weather But soon after he entered the woods there arose a terrific shower, common to mountainous regions, and when it had rained a short time, instead of clearing away, a thick fog set in com- pletely enveloping the mountain.
At the commencement of the shower Mr. Carr crept under the trunk of a large tree that had fallen across a knoll, and as the rain continued to fall more violently he concluded he would be compelled to remain there over night. The log above his head was an immense hemlock, and peeling some of the loose bark from the trunk he sat it with sticks of rotten wood against the sides of the tree, more effectually to shield himself from the fall-
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HISTORY OF WARREN.
ing water. He had no means of lighting a fire, and as he had gained a considerable elevation when night came on, he felt cold. He had only taken provisions enough for his dinner, and as he sat, hungry and shivering, the scene to him was a solitary one. The rain as it fell upon the green leaves or sifted through the boughs of the hemlock and spruce, kept up a confused pattering, sifting noise, and as it grew dark he laid down and tried to sleep, listening to its doleful music. But this was almost impossible, for as a drowse would steal upon him some great owl overhead would hoot ominously, and as its rough music died away the other inhabitants of the forest took up the strain, and he heard the lioarse howl of the wolf, and the long-drawn halloo of the bear echoing in the forest.
Thus the night passed away, its long hours seeming like weeks, until at last the dark misty light of morning began to dawn, and the huge, gnarled trunks of the trees appeared through the thick fog. Numb with cold, he arose and resolved to make an effort to find his way out of the woods. He started up the moun- tain, and traveled, as he thought, until he had reached the top. He then descended until he arrived at the foot and began to have hope that he should find the settlement, but he was doomed to disappointment, for he had traveled but a short distance before he began to ascend again. He then tried to retrace his steps but it was of no avail, and after wandering about for a long time he found himself standing upon the shore of Glen pond. It still rained, and the descending drops made strange music as they struck upon the smooth surface of the little mountain lake.
He now made up his mind, as it was near night, to remain here until the following day, and building a light camp by the side of a rock, passed a much more dreary night than the first. Cold, wet, shivering, and sleepless as he lay by the side of that sheet of water, he heard the hoarse croaking of the frogs ming- ling with the voices of his serenaders of the previous night. When the morning broke it had ceased raining and although foggy he was able to distinguish the position of the sun when it rose, and thereby learn his points of compass.
Two nights had now passed, he had not tasted food, and hun- ger was oppressing him. To satisfy it he tried to catch some
249
A LEGEND OF MOUNT CARR.
fish, but after a few ineffectual attempts he gave it up. As he stood looking at the water he saw swimming about and hopping along the shore numerous frogs. A hungry man will eat almost anything. Carr caught a number of them, cut them up with his knife, and made a hearty meal upon the raw flesh or fish.
Feeling now much refreshed he attempted again to find the settlement. Taking a westerly course he once more found him- self upon the top of the mountain. The clouds hung thick around making it impossible to distinguish any object a few feet distant. But proceeding cautiously he began to descend, as he believed upon the opposite side. For a number of hours he slowly went down, crossing in his course several streams now swollen with the rain until he reached the level country. Here after wander- ing about some time he began to think that he should be obliged to spend another night in the woods, but as he was looking around for a convenient camping place, the sharp ringing of a settler's axe greeted his ear, and proceeding towards what was to him the joyful sound, he soon emerged into a recent clearing. In the cen- tre stood a snug cabin and he quickly found himself within its hospitable walls, where he was generously provided for, and after somewhat recovering from his fatigue, related his adventures in the woods. Gradually the story circulated through the neighbor- ing settlements and the people gave his name to the mountain upon which the adventure happened."*
Dr. Jackson says the mountain is composed of granite, which having been erupted through the mica slate lying upon its sides forms a cap on its summit. But after the most diligent search by several very distinguished geologists the granite is as yet undiscov- ered. Nevertheless, it is a most singular formation. A hun- dred different kinds of rock are found upon it, and some most in- teresting minerals, among which are tourmaline or schorl, garnets, quartz crystals of a lovely hue, amythyst, beautiful as the sum- mer rose, and last but not least are scattered all over it small par- ticles of pure virgin gold.
* Carr was a friend of Alexander Craig who settled in Romney and who had relatives living at the time in Piermont.
Samuel Knight related how two boys from Ellsworth in these early times came over Mount Carr in the winter, barefoot, and camped one night near Batchelder brook, before they reached the settlements in Warren.
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HISTORY OF WARREN.
A dozen beautiful, white foamy streams come rushing down its sides, among which may be mentioned Martin brook, branches of Stinson brook, Moulton brook, Batchelder brook, Patch brook, and that most beautiful of all streams, Hurricane brook. On the latter are those little, white tumbling waterfalls which for so many years were alinost unknown but are now so much admired.
By these it is said in old times lived the fairies. It was here on the rich carpets of green moss they danced in the moonbeams and sang an accompaniment to the falling waters. The deep, mossy-rimmed basin, set with gems, and carved in the rock high up on the mountain side might have been their bathing font, and in it even Robin Goodfellow and Queen Mab might have per- formed their ablutions. The Indians had a beautiful tradition how the fairies stole the children away and gave them fairy bread to eat which changed them into fairies. Then said they there was joy forthe little folks as they revelled in the green embowering woods ; and the elfin king and the fairy queen ruled long and well in the old centuries. But the period when they existed has melted into the mellow twilight of ages and all these joyous revellers are gone forever.
Now it is said there are some so skeptical that they don't be- lieve the fairies ever lived there at all, that the whole story is but a pleasant myth told to please the children. Be this as it may their reputed haunts were frequently invaded about those times. Our rustic pioneers loved fresh meat and a store of rich peltries, and the woods of Mount Carr were scoured for the supply.
When the autumn came and the maples, birches, poplars, and ash were clothed in all their crimson splendors in the glens and on the mountains, the gun was roused from its slumber, the dogs howled in ecstacy on the hills, and the time for partridge shooting, mink, beaver, and sable trapping, and deer and moose hunting had come. Joseph Patch " was in his elemeut then." Chase Whitcher was on the hunter's path, Obadiah Clement's gun resounded in the woods, and even fat William Butler joined in the profitable pastime.
Patch is a happy hunter. He is threading his way along the Asquamchumauke towards the wooded mountain. He steps from hummock to hummock in his little pasture, brushes the blue and
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A SHREWD OLD FOX.
gold flowered hardhack aside, and rustles the fallen leaves with his heel in the woods. He shall hear the roar of the torrent, the mu- sic of the waterfall; shall wind around the reedy shores of the fir skirted Glen ponds, and at night lie down to sleep on his bed of soft boughs by his camp fire. His youngest son relates that at one time he came home with fifty-three mink, sable, fisher-cat, and bea- ver skins, caught in a single week in his Indian culheags and steel traps. Old Deacon Jonathan Clement said that Chase Whitcher caught in one season a hundred and forty dollars' worth of beaver, on the head waters of Black and Berry brooks. The old beaver dams and little grass grown meadows where their ponds were are still to be seen. Obadiah Clement could shoot more partridges than any other man in the hamlet. He had a brisk little dog to scare them up and then shot them on the wing.
Joseph Patch also had a good supply of steel traps and there was not a man in the whole country who could catch more foxes than he. He baited them on a bed, as it is called, and late in the fall was sure to get one almost every morning. But once he found an old fox almost as cunning as himself. When he would go to his " bed " he would find his bait gone, his trap sprung, but not a fox to be seen. This happened many times even though his trap was set in the most careful manner. But there was one thing he always noticed,-his trap invariably had a stick in its jaws. One day he set it very carefully and then picked up and carried away every stick more than two inches long he could find in the vicinity. His plan proved successful. The next morning he found a hand- some silver gray fox caught by the nose. The stick with which it attempted to spring the trap was too short. Reynard seemed to realize his situation. He looked up in the hunter's face imploringly, as much as to say, " please let me go this time." But Patch could not think of it. With one blow he dispatched him though he often said afterwards he never regretted the killing an animal more in his life .*
* This story was told the author by Mr. David Smith. He said Patch related it to him with his own lips. Benjamin Little's statement also.
Anson Merrill said that Patch once saw a bear in his corn, near Patch brook; got within twenty rods and then could not see his game well, so he stood on a hill of corn and raised himself on tip-toe and fired. The bear ran but Patch found that he had drawn blood and following along beside the brook lost the trail. A week later, it being warm weather he scented him and found his game dead on the banks of the stream.
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HISTORY OF WARREN.
Jolin Hinchson, his neighbor, had two beautiful fleet-footed deer hounds. One of them was named Wolf. Patch prevailed upon him to sell him the latter and then he could rival his friend Whitcher in the chase. My uncle who remembered the history of John Mills so well, said that early settler got a good supply of venison one day, the would-be product of Patch's hunting. He heard the sonorous yelling of the old hound coming down the ravine by Rocky falls, on Patch brook ; soon the antlered buck burst from the woods, flew across the little clearing and made for the mill pond on the river. Mills was ready with his gun, and as the stag swam rapidly down across the pond he lodged a charge of buck shot in its throat and before Patch came up the game was hid in the grist-mill, while the hunter was left to infer that the deer had crossed the river and escaped, John Mills all the time maintaining a pious silence, somewhat after the manner of the Quakers.
Pause here, gentle reader! drop a tear for the fate of Patch's fleet deer hound, Wolf. As the years rolled on he grew old. His baying was heard no more on the hills, his feet bounded no more through the woods. Gray with age he could only lie on the hearth by the warm fire. One day Patch said half in earnest to his boys, "I guess you had better take old Wolf out and shoot him, he is no use to any one." The dog looked up sorrowfully, seeming to un- derstand what was said and then slowly left the house. That night they hunted for him, and called him in vain. The next day they found him in a deep pool of Patch brook, drowned.
If Patch suspected his friend Mills of appropriating the veni- son he could easily forgive him as he sometimes practised such things himself. Strangers from a distance would come to hunt and wantonly destroy large quantities of game much to the annoyance of the good settlers of the hamlet. These marauding parties, los- sel scouts, shouting would often come rushing down from the hills with guns and deep-mouthed baying hounds, waking every echo in the old wood. It was then that the Merrills, William Butler, Mills, Patch and Hinchson, hastening would intercept the deer or moose, and kill and conceal it before the fierce intruders could come up. Then there would be a sharp contention, threats, and sometimes blows, but the invariable result was that the game loving invaders would be sent fast flying back across the border with huge fleas in
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MOOSEHILLOCK.
their ears .* Romney men and the sojourners among the hills of Trecothick were thus taught to feel a deep love for the "honest Warrenites," as they most respectfully termed our early pioneers.
Chase Whitcher, while following a moose, was the first settler who visited the summit of Moosehillock. It is said that Joseph Patch also, while hunting one bright, clear autumn day climbed the mountain. He had no companion save his dog. Stillness and soli- tude were there, hill and ravine, sky and valley, everywhere mag- nificent, the outline everywhere bold, grand, and sublime. No ani- mal life was to be seen, only two fearless, strong winged eagles were soaring over the great gorge down which roars Tunnel brook. White quartz rocks and gray slates, among which bloom the hare- bell and lichen, and to which the mosses cling, cropped out all around him; then there was the graveyard of the stunted skeleton trees killed by the frost and the fire and bleached white; beyond was the rich green of the mazy, impenetrable hackmatacks; in the zone below the deep brown of the spruce and hemlock, and in the deep valleys at the mountain foot, the bright yellow, the flashing crimson, the purple and gold of the forest, while above was the azure sky, and in the far distance the blue water of the ponds, the lakes, and the ocean. It was a wild scene, " crags, knolls, and mounds confusedly hurled " far as the eye could reach. In the east the highest of the Waumbecket Methna, the Indian name for the White mountains, gleamed white with the first snow, while in the west the sharp peaks of the Adirondacks shone bright above the flashing waters of Lake Champlain. But he hurried away for he felt a strange indescribable awe at a sight such as he had never witnessed before, and the hackmatacks were thick and the way over them long and difficult.
But it was only in the winter when the snow lay four feet deep in the woods of the valley and on the mountains that the moose could be hunted successfully. We have it on the authority of Ja- cob Patch, son of Joseph Patch, that our hunter on snow shoes was following the Asquamchumauke, otherwise Baker river, high up on the side of Moosehillock mountain. It had snowed that day and
* Esq. Jonathan Merrill once whipped a gallant Romney hunter with his ox goad, "making him yell good," when said hunter accused him of stealing a deer. Stevens Merrill by good luck got a moose once in the river behind his house which somebody's dogs had chased down from the mountains.
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HISTORY OF WARREN.
the way was slow and heavy. Late in the afternoon he discovered a yard of moose. Trying his gun he found it so damp he could not use it. This was a great disappointment but he was not to be cheated of his game so easily. Cutting a long pole he lashed his hunting knife to one end of it, cautiously approached the moose and cut the ham strings of three of the best of them. This done he found no difficulty in dispatching them. The rest escaped. Of course he dressed them, hung the heavy quarters high up in the trees, and then hauled them home at his leisure.
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