USA > New Hampshire > Hillsborough County > Lyndeborough > The history of the town of Lyndeborough, New Hampshire,1735-1905 > Part 44
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Sometimes cotton filling was obtained from the lower towns, and bedspreads and other articles were made of cotton and wool, or with a flax warp made into a coarser fabric for common wear.
Girls made their own wedding outfits in those days, carding and spinning and weaving the wool for blankets, and using their utmost skill in the fineness and the design of linen fabrics. Generally the quantity of table linen, towels, blankets, bed- spreads, etc., was enough to last the bride through her married life, for the goods she made wore like iron. The maidens were very proud of their skill, and were not bashful in showing the results of their handiwork. Frequently the all-wool cloth in- tended for best wear was fulled at some nearby mill and a nap made on it. Joshua Sargent operated just such a mill in town for many years. When the fabrics were dyed the fashionable color was blue, and the aroma of the old dye pot with its bag of indigo was in every kitchen at times.
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Of underclothing the men had none, nor indeed wanted any. Mrs. Asher Curtis, mother of Mrs. Betsey Ann Curtis, solici-
470
HISTORY OF LYNDEBOROUGH
tous for her husband's comfort once made him a pair of good, warm, woolen drawers, and one cold morning persuaded him to wear them. Such an experience was new to him, but he started for the wood-lot with them on. He had loaded his wood and started for market, walking beside his oxen, and he found the drawers uncomfortably warm, so he mounted the load, and in a biting wind with the thermometer below zero, discarded the underwear and never could be persuaded to wear any again.
There has been much speculation in these later days, as to how our present winters compare in severity with those of the "olden time." In connection therewith the following record kept by some member of the Goodrich family and found by John H. Goodrich among the family papers will be of great interest. It gives the number of snow-falls, total depth of snow- fall, number of rains, and time of apple-blossoming for twenty- three years, commencing with 1830.
No. of
Total depth No. of
Time of
Years snow falls
of snow
rains apple blossoming
1830
49
6-4
66
May I
May 22 Frost to kill apple buds and corn
1831
55
6-3
82
May 14
1832
54
IO
81
May 28
1833
5I
6-10
94
May 6
1834
53
10-9
103
May 19
1835
68
7
98
May 27
June 21. A little frosty
1836
58
9
79
May 18
Aug. 4. A little frosty
1837
71
8-9
90
June I
June 23. Quite a frost
1838
60
4-5
98
May 26
1839
67
5-9
II3
May 16
1840
58
10-5/2
83
May 17
1841
5I
12-7
III
May 27
1842
72
7-6
I23
May 18
1843
66
13-6
94
May 20
1844
53
8-7
IO9
May 15
June 12. Corn killed
I845
75
IO
I24
May 15
1846
75
6-6
103
May 9
June 13. A frost
1847
67
7-6
II7
May II
June 15. A fall of snow
1848
53
7-6
120
May 17
June I. A fall of snow
1849
69
7
91
May 10
1850
70
II
98
June 4
June 5 and 12. Corn killed
1851
49
6-10
II5
May 22
1852
78
I3-6
83
May 25
1853
72
6-11/2
May 19
June 2. Frost to kill
June 2. A flight of snow June 2. A frost to kill
In the matter of footwear the earliest settlers in town wore Indian moccasins in the winter, and during warm weather men and women, old and young, went barefoot when at home. As soon as they began to slaughter cattle and tan yards were estab-
471
THE "OLDEN TIME"
lished, the hides were sent to the tanners to be made into leather, some of which was sold, and some was brought home to be in readiness for the shoemaker to make up into boots and shoes for the family. The shoemaker travelled from house to house with his kit of tools, and as much footwear was made up as was thought would last the whole family a year. The women's shoes were coarse and heavy like the men's, and it was not until nearly a century after the first settlement of the town that soft and shapely shoes were made for the gentler sex. Oh ! those old long-legged, cowhide boots ! Men and boys had to wear them. One pair was supposed to last for a year, with the help of the cobbler. Stiff and hard at the best, the snow and cold of winter made it almost impossible to get them off the feet. And the old boot-jack hanging from its appointed peg-how many generations wrestled with that! Sometimes the father's or brother's assistance was invoked, and turning his back to the patient, he would take the foot between his legs, and grasping the boot with both hands, either pull it off or the other fellow out of his chair.
A pot of tallow was kept to grease the boots to make them impervious to water and to soften them somewhat. This worked well when the boots were warm, but when they became cold it made them stiff as boards. After a time long-legged calf-skin boots, sometimes with red leather tops, began to be worn. These were considered very genteel, and as they were rarely worn except to church, they lasted for a long time. One of the deacons in town used to show a pair he had worn for twenty-five years, and they were in pretty fair condition.
In many of the houses there was a " cobbler's bench," and some member of the family could do the repairing, so the boots were patched and tapped almost as long as the leather would hold together.
Among the few blessings of the early settlers was a good appetite. They were valiant trenchermen, and numberless tradi- tions have come down to us of the culinary art of the "olden time." But the truth is, the diet of the first-comers was scanty and plain. All cooking had to be done by the open fire, and this continued until 1835 or 1840, when cook-stoves were intro- duced. Thus, for a hundred years from the time John Cram made his "beginning," the cooks roasted and boiled and baked over the coals in the fire-place. And this in more senses than one.
472
HISTORY OF LYNDEBOROUGH
The woods abounded in game and the streams with fish, and probably people did not go hungry; but it is a curious fact that our ancestors in this town looked with disfavor on those who spent much time in hunting and fishing, and many sayings de- rogatory to the man or boy who went strolling around with rod or gun have come down to us. They considered it a sinful waste of time. Doubtless they were compelled to make use of the fish and game, but they much preferred domestic meat. As soon as they could raise and fatten swine, and the flocks and herds incresed, they seldom made use of the creatures of the forest. Of course there were exceptions to this rule, and there are traditions of Lyndeborough men who were mighty hunters in their day.
It is said that in the earlier cabins there was a wooden lug- pole extending over the fire and fastened to the side of the chim- ney. If this should happen to burn off, it was replaced by a new one. On this were hung the pots and kettles, and the housewife used a strong stick to lift them on and off, running a great risk of setting her clothing afire in doing so. But when these log cabins were discarded for the more comfortable framed houses, and more substantial brick chimneys were built, an iron crane extending over the fire, and hung at the side of the fire- place so that it could be swung out from the fire, was devised and was a great convenience. On it the kettles could be ex- amined or taken off with little risk of burns. Cranes continued to be used until cook stoves came, and the old fire-places were bricked up and the hearth-stones became cold. As soon as the settlers could raise corn and rye, brown, or rye and Indian bread, as it was called, was the only bread used. This was not "steamed," as now-a-days, but was baked in large loaves be- fore the fire or in the brick oven, and of course there was much hard crust. This crust, softened with warm water, a little mo- lasses and a little milk being added, made a common and favor- ite supper dish. For many years wheat flour was not to be had, and when it first did come in use it was so costly that it was considered a luxury which only the rich could afford. Seven pounds was thought to be an ample supply for a year in most families. It was bought in seven, fourteen and twenty-eight- pound lots. When a youth, Mr. E. C. Curtis worked for a man in the haying season who had bought a supply to last through that time, and when the hay was all cut and stored, returned to the store all that remained of the flour. Eli Curtis was the first
473
THE "OLDEN TIME"
one in town to purchase a whole barrel of flour, other than the store-keepers, and the Widow Cressy was the second.
Broths and stews and bean porridge were common articles of diet. Bean porridge was made in quantities to last the family a week or two, as bean porridge was "best when nine days old." Occasionally a veal calf would be killed, and part of the meat loaned to the neighbors, to be returned when they in turn should kill one. Salted meats and salted codfish were the main- stay during the year, and one definition of a fore-handed farmer in those days was one who always had "pork in the barrel and corn in the chamber." Naturally, there was always a craving for " fresh meat," and the settlers looked forward to pig-killing time with lively anticipation of juicy " spare-rib " and "chine " of fresh pork.
Garden vegetables, as we know them now, they did not have, and if the truth be told they did not try to have even the few and inferior kinds then known. Fifty years ago a man who spent much time trying to have a vegetable garden was consid- ered a " putterer ; " and if he should have any leanings toward flowers, his sanity was called in question. Pumpkins, squash, beets, carrots and turnips, with the inevitable bed of sage, made up the utmost of their efforts in the garden line in the long ago.
Cook stoves were slow in coming into use in Lyndeborough, as, indeed, they were in other towns. The women were used to cooking by the open fire and looked askance at the new in- vention. Chase Hadley bought one of the first to be brought into town, and it was set up in the kitchen by the side of the old fire-place. It was two or three years before his wife could be persuaded to use it at all, and she cooked by the open fire and baked in the brick oven more or less as long as she kept house. It was the common thing to set up stoves beside the open fire-place and run both.
Previous to the coming of the cook-stove, there was a con- trivance introduced, called a "tin baker," which was thought by the housewives to be a fine thing. My grandfather owned one, but I never saw it in operation. It was made to set up before the fire, and was generally used when there was a " hurry call " for a meal. Probably they have not been used since 1850. But the old brick oven ! Never were such pies and cakes and puddings since, as were turned out of that warm cavern! Ap- petite had nothing whatever to do with the excellency of the viands. They were better, far better, than any baked in a
474
HISTORY OF LYNDEBOROUGH
modern range. Baked beans, brown bread, and Indian pudding comprised the "menu " for Sunday in every family. These could be prepared the Saturday before, and consigned to the brick oven to come out piping hot when wanted. Thus the sin of cooking on the Sabbath was avoided.
It was not until 1835 that friction matches were used in Lyndeborough. They had been invented in England a few years before, but were so costly in those days when money was scarce, that they were not freely used. Therefore, for the first century in the history of the town, the flint and steel and tinder box method was the only one by which to produce fire. But this was a very troublesome way. Skill was required to strike the spark, catch it in the tinder and blow it into flame. There was a flint and steel in most families, but their main reliance was in care that the fire should not go out. It was carefully covered every night. The glowing coals were raked together and covered deep with ashes, and in the morning this heap of ashes would be opened, dry wood laid thereon, and soon a good fire was burning. But sometimes in spite of all care it would go out, and then some one would go to the neighbors to borrow fire. One old lady who lived on the mountain has told the writer of going to John Ordway's, who lived where Charles J. Cummings lives now, to get fire. Once both families happened to be destitute of the necessity on the same morning, and she had to go over to Robert Badger's, where Harry Richardson now lives, to get coals.
Those of us who grumble at getting up cold mornings and starting the fire with matches and good kindling, might reflect upon going a mile or more through the snow and bringing home coals in a kettle before we could have a fire, and be content.
The wood was burned green, and the practice of storing a year's supply of dry wood was unthought of. The wood was piled in the yard, and the day's supply prepared as needed, and it was prepared with an axe too; wood-saws and saw-horses were not much used then. Digging it out of the snow in winter or sweating in wielding the axe in summer, it was all the same. My grandfather built the first woodshed north of the mountain in the year 1820. Possibly this was the first in town.
It was a good many years after the first settlement of the town that tea and coffee became common beverages. Substi- tutes were used to some extent. Some thought the young and
475
THE "OLDEN TIME"
tender leaves of the raspberry bush, dried and steeped, made a fairly good tea, and bread crusts were browned and made to take the place of coffee, but it must be said that New England rum was plenty from the start.
It is not the province of the historian to moralize on this sub- ject but to record facts, and one fact was that the drinking of liquor was the custom of the time, and was not thought wrong or harmful. Everyone from the minister down to his poorest parishioner kept a supply on hand and drank it himself and offered it in hospitality to his guests. It was provided at funerals, as witness at the funeral of the Rev. Sewall Good- ridge the rum and sugar "for the singers " cost $2.25. It was abundant at weddings; and at log-pilings, huskings and rais- ings it was freely used. It was considered the height of dis- courtesy not to offer "spirit " to the minister when he made a pastoral visit. Rum could be bought in the early days for twenty-five cents per gallon. One man who formerly lived in town used to pass the house of a temperance woman, on his regular trips to get his jug filled. She hailed him one day and this colloquy ensued :
"Going after more rum, I suppose ? "
" Yes, ma'am."
" I wish rum cost ten dollars a gallon ! "
" Its wuth it ma'am, its wuth it ! "
There were many taverns in town where it was sold and these were duly licensed by the town. They were considered emi- nently respectable and citizens of standing would call for a glass or mug of "flip." The weighty affairs of town policy would be discussed and settled over a steaming joram of punch at Capt. William Barron's hostelry. The stores all kept liquor for sale, and to treat their customers. At the musters and train- ings in addition to the "Spirit of '76" there was generally a barrel or two of rum. It may be said also that the liquors were pure in those days and the heads were strong, and the consequences of drunkenness were not as grave as might be supposed.
This condition of affairs continued until the temperance re- form movement in the decade from 1830 to 1840. Dr. Israel Herrick was one of the leaders of that movement in Lynde- borough. He says of himself: "I went into this movement with my whole soul, without regard to my reputation or pecu-
476
HISTORY OF LYNDEBOROUGH
niary loss, and I thank God he so directed me and gave me strength to do it."
With the help of others he carried forward the crusade against dram drinking until the practice was pretty generally abandoned. But years before this was brought about, the apple orchards planted by the settlers had begun to bear, and they bore cider apples. Out of a large orchard, but two or three trees, perhaps, would bear fruit fit for eating; so the " cider apples " were made into cider and rum was supple- mented by this beverage. Almost every one stored many barrels of it in his cellar. One family put forty barrels of apple juice in the cellar in the fall. It was all gone in April, and the men were in the market trying to swap labor for cider.
There were cider mills on the following farms :
Ephraim Putnam's, where Frank Pettengill now lives ; David Putnam 2d's, near where Edwin H. Putnam lives ; Gideon Cram's, where Luther Cram lives ; Uriah Cram's, now called the Putnam place ; one on the Ellingwood place; one at Eben Bachelder's ; one at Jacob Wellman's, where George Carson lives; one at Timothy Richardson's, where F. A. Richardson lives ; one at Andrew Fuller's, where Moses C. Fuller lives ; one at Solomon Cram's, where Willard Rose lives; one at Ben- jamin Jones', where Mr. Wilson lives ; one at the Deacon Good- rich place, North Lyndeborough ; one at the Stephenson place ; one at the farm where H. H. Joslin lives, and doubtless some others in the " olden time." There is not an old-fashioned cider mill in town now. All have been destroyed. They would be something of a curiosity to the boy or girl of to-day.
Sections of a hard wood log about two feet long and nearly the same in diameter were prepared. Holes were mortised in one of them, and tenons or projections to match the holes were set into the other. These rollers were set upright in a strong frame and made to revolve one against the other by a long sweep fastened to one of them. This sweep was quite a stick of timber, and was crooked in order that one end might come near enough to the floor so a horse could be hitched to it. A hopper led the apples against the rollers, or "nuts," as they were called. A boy was generally perched on the frame to scrape the pomace from the rollers (scraping the nuts, it was called), the horse travelled round and round in a circle, and with much creaking and noise the fruit was crushed, the juice and pomace falling into a vat below.
477
THE "OLDEN TIME"
The pomace was placed in the press with big wooden scoop shovels, the layers separated with straw ; pressure was applied with wooden screws, some of them six or eight inches in diame- ter. These were turned by levers, and thus slowly, very slowly, cider was made in the "olden time." But if all traditions are true, it was not " slowly, very slowly " imbibed.
Now, it is said that the cider made in those days was better than that made today, for the " pressing " was allowed to stand over night in the vat, and acquired a heavier "body " and bet- ter color and flavor. Cider and apples were the standard re- freshment offered to evening visitors for a good many years, and by that same token, to day-time callers as well. Some of the old " cider mugs " shown in antique collections held a generous measure, and the " boy " whose duty it was to draw cider made many journeys to the cellar.
When not in use the old cider mill was a favorite play-ground for the children. Its cumbrous machinery, its pleasant, musty, fruity smell, its opportunities for hiding, had a fascination for boys and girls. Many a middle-aged man raised in the country has a glad memory of the old cider mill on the farm.
In recent years comparatively little cider is made in Lynde- borough. Andy Holt made it for a number of years at the old Stephenson mill, which he purchased, but none is made there now. Edwin H. Putnam has the only mill in town now where it is made to any extent. He has facilities for making " cider jelly," and does quite a business at that. His is a "grater " mill, and the juice and pomace are carried directly to a hydraulic press. A load of apples may be carried to this mill, and the cider made "while you wait."
Sometimes the cider press was used in pressing hops. There were many hop-yards in Lyndeborough up to about 1860. Dea. William Jones had one on the hill north of his house, and on the opposite side of the road from this was the hop-yard of Samuel Jones. Thus that hill came to be known as Hop-Yard hill. Sherebiah Manning had a hop-house and press on the Benj. Jones place, and there were other farms where hops were raised. The opening of the fertile lands of the West killed the industry in this section.
The question is sometimes asked now-a-days : Do people en- joy themselves in these days as well as they did in the "olden' times " ? One old lady of whom the writer asked the question replied : " Well, I don't know. Folks had a proper good time
478
HISTORY OF LYNDEBOROUGH
when I was a girl-better than they do now, I guess. They did not seem to have so much to worry about." It must not be supposed that the people who built up the town of Lynde- borough did not have their pleasures, in spite of the privations and hardships of pioneer life ; but it is a curious fact that about all of the early amusements were somehow connected with work. Something must be accomplished. Laziness was a sin, and to be called shiftless was a deep disgrace, while many grave faults were condoned or overlooked in a person if only he were "smart to work."
So they had log-pilings, huskings, raisings and chopping- bees. The women, their quiltings, paring-bees and spinning- bees ; and in each and all was the element of work.
Before the practice of shocking corn, now so general, camne in vogue, the farmers used to "cut the stalks " just above the ear. These were cured for fodder, and the remainder of the corn plant was allowed to ripen in the field. Late in the fall this was cut up and carried to the barn, and an immense pile made, the length of the barn floor. Rough-and-ready seats were placed along one side, stacks of doughnuts and pies were made, invitations were sent around, and everything was ready for a "husking."
Almost every one came, young and old of both sexes, bring- ing lanterns, which were hung on pitchforks placed in the hay- mows, to help illuminate. Hoarded ears of red corn were sur- reptitiously placed in the pile. Then there were busy hands and busy tongues, shouts of laughter as red-ear forfeits were paid, now and then a wrestling match, until the pile of corn dwindled away, and the carriers of baskets to the chamber found their occupation gone. Then to the house and big kitchen, where there was a bountiful supper of baked beans, brown bread, doughnuts and pies (probably not a dyspeptic there), coffee and cider, and perhaps just a little rum for the aged. And that was a Lyndeborough " husking " of the long ago.
Since the custom of shocking corn or cutting and binding in shocks in the field obtained, there have been very few huskings in town.
The old-fashioned barn was not quite like those of the pres- ent day, and most of those built in the early days were much smaller. The "big door " was in the side, and the barn floor ran from side to side, with the "tie up " and scaffold at one
479
THE "OLDEN TIME"
end and a big " bay " in the other. One entire side of the barn was pinned together and raised, and as the timbers were large and green, it took about all the help in the neighborhood to raise it into place.
No matter how busy the season, or what work was on hand, all the men and boys dropped everything to attend a "raising," and women, too, for that matter, as much help was required to feed such a crowd of hungry men. The boss carpenter was the man of the hour and the work was performed under his direc- tion. Reliable men were stationed with iron bars to guide the tenons into the mortises in the sill ; as many men as could get a hold grasped the " band," as it was called, and raised it as far as they could; another contingent stood ready with pike poles to push it still farther up, and thus steadily it was raised until the tenons slipped into the mortises and it was pinned and secure.
There was some excitement in raising the heavy mass of timbers and now and then a wavering as one side or the other was raised faster, but there are no traditions of any serious accident happening on such occasions in town.
In modern barns where the barn-floor runs from end to end, the "bands" are smaller. In the old barns the timber was generally hewn, and the boring for mortises and pins was done by the old pod augur. They were put together, however, in such workmanlike manner that it has always been a hard matter to tear them down.
These raisings were the occasion of many feats of daring by men on the frame, and for many a wrestling match. After the roof was on and everything done, refreshments, both solid and liquid, were in order and in the very early days they did not wait until all was finished before serving liquids.
The first barn raised in Lyndeborough without rum was that of Dea. William Jones. It was in the beginning of the " tem- perance reform " movement and the deacon resolved to be the pioneer in raising a barn without the use of liquor. The frame being in readiness, word was sent round giving notice of the day of the raising, and the neighbors turned out in full num- bers, as usual, to give their assistance, but were somewhat amazed and disconcerted when it was whispered that this was a temperance affair, and that no rum or other liquors were to be supplied. Not much was said however, and they manned the first band, and, raising it a few feet, began to shout, " Bring on
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