USA > Pennsylvania > Crawford County > Pioneer sketches : scenes and incidents of former days > Part 9
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What seems to us a loss we hope to them is gain;
But whether it is, or is not, an earthly boon, Many a noble life goes out at noon.
CHAPTER XXIX.
SUGAR MAKING.
TAPPING TREES-GATHERING SAP-THE RESCUE-THE FESTIVAL-OUR CABIN-SUGARING OFF.
N FEBRUARY, 1847, we took a sugar camp of Scuyler Gates, Albion, Pa., situate in the big woods of Spring, Pa., about two miles from our abode. Presently we said to cousin Alf., who lived near by on an adjoining farm, "Wouldn't you like to go in with me and work the Gates' sugar bush ?" "On what terms ?" said he; "Two-thirds of what we get; he furnishes camp, kettles and storage for one-third the sugar made." "I will go you." said Alf., "but we will probably have to make 40 or 50 new sap troughs to replace some leaky ones." Sap buckets, at that day, were much scareer than babies, in most families. In due time new troughs were supplied. On a bright, sunny morning in March, with about a foot of snow on the ground, the wind southward, the air warm and balmy, betokening a good sap day, we proceeded to the sap bush accompanied by our paternal ancestors and cousins, Rant and Trume, and tapped 320 trees. The day was a gushing sap day and we placed our kettles between two large beech logs, comprising a chaldron, a half-chaldron and a five-pail kettle for a heater, preparatory for boiling.
We were on hand the next morning and found many of the troughs full, and the sap still running. A fire was kindled and sap placed in the kettles, which in due time
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were boiling. To the novice I will state that we put on our neckyokes made from basswood timber, carved out to fit the neck and shoulders, about three feet long, a moosewood string tied to each end of the yoke attached to a. wooden hook from which the pails suspended, the length of which to suit the arms and legs of the subject, when tugging through a foot of snow or otherwise. There was lots of work. hard work, in this crude way of maple sugar making. The most fatiguing part is carrying the sap or sugar water, in the snow or wet ground in a primeval forest. Snow or rain water in sap, when boiling. causes it to foam- and boil over the kettle, when a piece of fat pork placed in the kettle calms its turbid action and keeps it down within the vessel: just the same, we presume, it would act on many an individual, with a little hard work mixed in, would keep down a turbulent disposition and keep them from shopping over, much to the benefit of the community in general.
When we had gathered the bush over we found the troughs first gathered were again full. This meant busi- ness, and as the trees over a part of the camp were scattered, it made much traveling to get around. A better thing, however, was in store for us, when the next morning R. H. came to our rescue with a pair of steers and a sled, and a couple of barrels with which to gather the sap, and more than this, loaves of wheat and corn bread, a ham and a bucket of eggs. Our good parents being farmers who kept geese, turkeys, ducks and hens, we got a variety of eggs, and, God bless them, they well knew they had sent the provisions to a good market.
We soon gathered our sap, and still from the sugar maple was briskly dropping the sweet beverage. We found
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SUGAR MAKING.
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we had to boil sap that night to make store room for the morrow. R. H. had to return with the steers that evening, and before dark he emerged from the wood to the settle- ment and could not participate in our evening festivities.
Slices of the ham we broiled on a stick, Over the glowing coals, very quick;
The grease we used for sop on the corn bread, And pronounced it the best we ever had.
The eggs were boiled four minutes in a kettle of sap,
But as to the time, we had to guess at that; For all the watch we had was a watch dog,
And the brute lay asleep under a log.
We dipped out the eggs, goose, turkey, and all sorts, what a sight,
And found 'em all boiled just about right;
Then from our broiled ham and eggs and corn bread, We partook of a hearty supper before going to bed.
Our cabin was built of split bass wood and black ash logs, notched at the ends, dovetailed, and laid up edgeways, about the height of the average calf pen, and 8x12 feet, and its roof covered with bark. The door did not swing on iron hinges, but was left a grand opening like a dog kennel, and the cracks between the logs were sufficient to admit fresh air and a little snow occasionally.
This eabin had not been occupied for twelve months' except by a stray rabbit or raccoon, consequently we had to go about it and put our house in order, to make up our beds for a few hours of sweet repose. The floor consisted of a lot of poles laid on the ground and a split basswood log across the head end of the bunk department for a pillow, on which we piled hemlock boughs a foot thick, and over all spread a blanket to prevent taking cold or getting the. rheumaties, or a cramp in the toe nails.
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The moon was shining brightly at 12 o'clock, and the boiling kettle within wore a golden hue from the days' boiling, and we drank a quart of the sweet elixir to aid in digesting our hearty supper. Then followed story telling, and the song from our bassino voices, which made the welkin ring and resounded far away in the stillness of the night, and was answered by the pee-wee, the nightingale, and the croaking of Morley's frogs in a neighboring swail, when we concluded, it was high time to turn in.
We filled up the kettles, arranged the fire, and with all our clothing on, hats and boots, we entered our cabin, placed an army blanket over us and laid down to sleep, and slept soundly until 7 o'clock; awakening, we found Alf. grinning, and he exclaimed, "What do you think of this ?" "I think we're snowed under," I replied.
We arose and shook ourselves like a couple of colts and emerged from the cabin, and found four or five inches of snow on the ground, and still snowing, and we had received a good sprinkling of it in the cabin. We found the con- tents of the kettle well boiled down, when soon we had a fire and reduced it to syrup, which we strained and set away to settle, preparatory to sugaring off.
The next day R. H. came to camp, when we finished boiling the sap on hand, sugared off, and at night had all the sugar we could carry home, leaving in the cabin two buckets of syrup. After a rest of two or three days, we returned to camp, and found that some "sour pilgrim" had invaded our cabin and carried off the syrup and forgot to bring any of it back. After this we left no syrup in the cabin for others to sugar off at our expense, and attended to each sugar run, and made about 500 pounds of sugar, and had a sweet time generally. We thought that sugar, ham and eggs and corn bread tasted sweeter in the woods than at our own domicile.
CHAPTER XXX.
OUR FIRST TRIP ON THE RAGING CANAL.
THE SUMMIT-THE FEEDER-HARTSTOWN POND-HUNDREDS OF SNAKES -TRIBES OF INDIANS-THEIR DEPARTURE FOR THE SOUTHWEST- THE POLK AND DALLAS-TOWED BY A STEAMBOAT-ROUNDING BEAVER POINT-A NARROW ESCAPE.
APTAIN ELISHA ALDERMAN. who lived three-fourths of a mile south of Albion, Erie county, Pa., owned and commanded the canal boat Polk and Dallas, which was one of the first boats run on the Erie & Pittsburg Canal. One evening in June, 1846, his boat lay moored on the Biri side of the canal at Bowman's wood, near Shadeland. His son. Fayette, mounted Old George and rode away to my father's house to hire me go on a trip with them to Pittsburg. Father said corn-hoeing was coming on but he thought he could manage that; if I wanted to go, I could. His decision suited me to a "T," as it would give me an opportunity to see the Shenango valley and the dif- ferent towns along the route to Beaver Falls, thence a ride on the Ohio River up to Pittsburg, all of which I had never seen or enjoyed. I was electrified at the thought of going on that voyage, and thought father very kind to let me go at that time.
I was up and dressed at 3 o'clock the following morning, and mounted Old George, with Fayette on before, and
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away we rode to where the boat lay moored, as aforesaid. Arriving, the bow of the boat was set across the canal. Soon she came up to the tow-path broadside, when Bill (the mate to Old George) walked out of the midship cabin to take his place as the saddle-horse, and the two were hitched on to the tow line and we were soon on our way.
It was a fine June morning, and the morning song of the myriad warblers in Bowman's wood lent enchantment to the spell.
Well, we were soon in the Spring Corners lock, at the head of the eleven-mile level. From there we found many loeks before reaching the Summit, at which place the feeder comes in to supply the water for the canal from French Creek at Bemustown, some three miles above Meadville.
We entered the big pond at Hartstown about 5 o'clock, and such a sight I never saw before, nor since. Had St. Patrick been there he could have got a job. Snakes! Yes, snakes, laying along the edge of the tow-path and in the water, everywhere from three to six feet long. Black and sleek they were. We struck at them with a setting pole a hundred times, perhaps, in a distance of a mile's travel and they would slip off like eels and as indifferently as if we were striking at as many ropes of India rubber. We could only conclude, if what we saw was a fair specimen of the snakes contained in that 1700-acre pond or lake, that all the waters of the State of Pennsylvania were boiled down into that area to produce as many black snakes as existed on that bright summer day in the big pond at Hartstown.
Night came on and we tied up near Greenville. There the tow-path run along the bank of the Shenango River, and so continued a good share of the way to Beaver, where it empties into the Ohio.
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In due time we passed Greenville, Sharon and New Castle, and in the interim I found I had to work in various capacities-driver, cook, lock-fitter, rowersman and steers- man, all of which, for so young a lad, was more than I bar- gained for when I started out.
Nothing more noteworthy, however, occurred until we passed New Castle, when three line boats came up, loaded with Indians westward bound to Indian Territory. They were the Seneca tribe from the Cataraugus Reservation, Western New York. An incident occurred as the boats were passing through a lock. Two buck Indians clinched and had an extremely lively tussle, to the merriment of the lookers-on. Shortly they fell, still clutching each other, and rolled over and over to the side of the boat, and would have rolled into the lock had they not been caught by the bystanders, who separated them. They were the first tribe of Indians I ever saw, and afforded much curiosity to my youthful eye. By the way, I noticed some pretty fine- looking Indian girls among the tribe.
Our boat arrived in Beaver in time to see them take their departure on board a steamboat for St. Louis and St. Charles, thence up the Missouri River en route to their reser- vation. When the Indians were aboard and the steamer ready to drop from her moorings an old squaw could not be persuaded to go on board the boat. She waved her hand back in the direction from which she came and said she wanted to go back to the rising sun, to her happy old home, the scenes of her childhood. Her gestures, appear- ance and manner of speech I shall never forget, and many present expressed themselves that it was a rather affecting incident. After much solicitation by members of her tribe and the agents, with a promise that she could some day
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come back, she consented to go aboard the boat, which was soon
Steering away down the Ohio for the Southwest,
And the number of Senecas have become much less;
Like all the other tribes in past decades,
Diminishing in every move they have made.
Two young boys remained in the skiff of the steamer, behind, On leaving, sadly chimed a doleful requiem;
The skiff stood nearly on end from the steamer's waves,
Yet determined to ride in the skiff were the young braves.
Reader, if you are familiar with Indian history, I know You will have some compassion for poor Lo,
By the white man driven from post to post,
No wonder he feels like giving up the ghost.
A steamer came alongside the Polk and Dallas and we were soon on our way up the Ohio to the Smoky City, making several stops to let off and take on passengers, (as these river boats in that way are very obliging) they will steam up to the beach any where on the route for passen- gers. About three hours time was required to make Pitts- burg. Our cargo consisted of white ash ripped lumber (unedged) consigned to Wardroup, Stout & Williams, agricultural works, for the manufacture of agricultural implements.
The next morning we commenced to discharge our load. The captain and his big boy, Fayette, did help us unload that lumber, but the next morning did usher in one of those old time hot days, and thirty-five tous of railroad iron was to go aboard the Polk and Dallas for Erie, when Captain Elisha and his big boy, Fayette, excused them- selves and slunk away into the shade and left the loading of that railroad iron to us two young lads, all alone to our glory, which soon began to bite our hands. From a couple
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of boot legs we cut thumb holes, and covered the inside of our hands with leather, that we could better stand the racket. Those rails were of the old-fashioned "T" stripe and, of course were not so heavy as the rail of to-day, but heavy enough for two young boys to handle, and as we walked from the wharf to the boat, tugging under the heavy load, we would frequently throw the right leg under the rail to lighten up the weight, and before night our trousers leg was worn through from knee to thigh, and had it not been for a tough lining under the trousers leg, that iron might have kept on wearing. Sweat; why we were as wet as a couple of dipped wharf rats and our shirts yellow as saffron bags. That night we felt more like resting than going to the theatre or seeing the sights in a strange city, but we had seen the elephant all day and must be content.
In justice to Capt. Alderman we will say that he was afflicted with a fever sore on one of his limbs, and to a great degree was excusable, but we thought he should have fur- nished a substitute on that day, as long as his incorrigible big boy rendered so little aid in that heavy work. But the captain catered to our wants frequently for cool water, and in the afternoon twice to a kreutzer of sparkling lager, which, if ever it did us any good, it did on that memorable occasion.
The next morning about 9 o'clock the steamer took the Polk and Dallas in tow for Beaver. As we steamed out into the broad channel of the Ohio we gazed back to the conflux of the Allegheny and Monongahela and to the Smoky City in the dim distance, we began to feel somewhat invigorated as we glided along on this, the pleasantest part of our trip.
ROUNDING BEAVER POINT.
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When near Sewickly, at a signal from persons on the shore, the steamer made for them to take them aboard. Our boat was made. fast about one third her length abow of the steamer, consequently when the steamer touched shore for the passengers the bow of the canal boat was left aground and thus the steamer, instead of backing off, as she should have done, swung to the right, thereby badly cracking one of the gunwales of the Polk and Dallas, and when out into the channel a sheet of water ran through the broken gun- wale sufficient to sink her in a short time.
If ever a man moved lively 'twas Fayette Alderman just then. The oakum, mallets and caulking irons were quickly brought into requisition. He and the captain being good caulkers they worked like beavers, and before we reached Beaver Point they had the leak stopped.
Young as we were we recommended an attachment plaster to be put on that steamboat captain for that job, but he was allowed to go scott free and collect tow bill (in part) for towing and breaking the boat's gunwale. You see it's natural for the big mucky-mucks to shove off the smaller fry, which custom is pernicious and should be resisted by the last lip and the last dollar.
After dinner old Bill and George, our propelling power, walked leisurely out of the midship stable and were hitched onto the tow line, preparatory to rounding Beaver Point to enter the Shenango on our way homeward. There was a sand bar running out some distance, and in rounding the point our steersman, anxious to evade this, swung out too far into the current. The horses were already in the water and when the current struck the boat broadside they were pulled further into the stream. We saw our danger at onee,
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and each man, with his setting pole with iron hook and socket on end, applied them with all his might.
The saddle horse was in the water to his saddle, and the heroie rider (John), standing in the stirrups, urged the horses for all he was worth. We were about to cut the tow line for the moment, and go over to Bridgewater or down the river miles below. At this juncture the current of the Shenango seemed to brace up the situation, when we could feel the boat begin to move forward, and the driver still urging the motive power, when the horses began to emerge from the water, and soon again were on terra firma.
We entered the Shenango and made the Kenacanese Lock that evening-twelve miles. We laid up for the night in the jaws of the loek, when the arduous duty of cook- ing supper was devolved upon the writer. I didn't like the business, never was cut out for a cook, but I had learned to become quite à dabster at it already, since my exit upon the raging canal.
From a lot of dry pine wood, full of pitch (turpentine) I soon had a cracking fire, with a tea kettle over, the pota- toes on boiling, and already the ham and eggs, little later to fry, as a boatman can take his ham or meat, eggs, pola- toes and sich three or four times a day with impunity, with- out offering up an excuse or generally any sort of a bless- ing. All at once I heard a flopping, and from the boat gunwale on to the railroad iron and on to the dunage floor. I skipped out and peered down and beheld the biggest black bass I ever saw. As the boat lay up to the wind wall of the loek it would sway back and forward a few inches, and probably touched the fish, when it jumped up as a bass often does, and landed in the boat. The next thing on the pro- gramme was to dress and cook that fish, which we had for
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supper and breakfast, and there is no better eating than the black bass.
We turned in early that night, with nothing to molest our slumber except the outburst of the bewitching song of the Shenango bullfrog, with his dreadful chorus "Better go round." But we were soon in the sweet embrace of Mor- pheus and had no time to "go round" nor to dream of snakes or bullfrogs.
The next morning at the dawn of day we pulled out of the lock, when again we heard the sweet music of a thous- and morning songsters to cheer us on, in great contrast with the bassino voice of the bull frog of a few hours before. As we passed along up the bank of the Shenango, we noticed the trees on its towering hillsides bending toward its waters, and roeks as big as a meeting house carelessly overhanging our heads, and how such huge rocks came there, to frowningly remain at such a dizzy height, was a wonder to my youthful mind. The scenery of the lower She- nango is picturesque and grand, and its black bass, bull frogs and rattle snakes most beautiful. No incidents of note, onward, except that five days later we safely arrived at our paternal roof, being out fifteen days on our first trip on the raging canal.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CAPTAIN OF A CANAL BOAT, WITH PAPERS IN MY HAT-A CHEESE DEAL.
N the spring of 1847, when plowing and corn-planting was done, I asked my father to let me take Old Fan to put with another horse on the tow line and make a couple trips to Erie. He replied: "Whose boat will you get?" "The Queen Sada and its owner, Ogilvy Cole, to steer her," I said. "And I can make a couple of trips and some money and fetch around in time to help hoe the corn." He said I could take the mare. I proceeded to do so and rode to Albion, engaged two loads lumber, hoops and saddle-trees of Messrs. John and Pearson Clark to deliver in Erie, and hired Cole and his boat. The next day we loaded the boat and the next morning we pulled out for Erie with the papers in my hat as captain of the canal boat, with Elisha Young as rowersman and Cole as steersman. I had good luek on that trip, likewise the second one, and did as well as I had expected; and a boy is apt to think he can do about as much, and know about as much, at fifteen years as ever.
A CHEESE DEAL.
My parents kept a good number of cows, as did also my Unele Anson Sargent on his adjoining farm. In the cheese-making season the milk of the eows of both farms
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was put together to make larger cheese. As warm weather was again coming on, and as my parents had most of the previous year's stock of cheese on hand, my mother said: "Martin, I wish you would sell the cheese. We have now kept them nearly a year and it is time they were disposed of. There are about forty that might be sold." 1 replied that I thought they might be sold in Eric as well as any- where else. The cheese was hauled to the canal and put aboard the boat for the Erie market.
The cheesemaker, also the lover of cheese, are well aware that the little white skipper is very fond of cheese and that it don't select a poor cheese, cither ; consequently in a lot of 40 cheese it would not be strange during the year for the little white wiggler to invade some one or more of the aforesaid lot of cheese.
Some folks appear to like cheese-skippers and all. I have seen people take a slice of cheese full of little white squirmers, and eat it down and call it good. Perhaps it was good to see them wiggle.
The next day I discovered that some had already taken abode in a cheese, and his skippership had crawled out, as if to get the course it was sailing. Arriving at Erie I called at all the canal groceries and others near by, but could find no buyer. Everybody supplied. Tried it again the next day, with no better success. The next morning I dropped into a canal grocery and made a sale of the whole lot, which much delighted me and exalted my boyish ideas in trade. The cheese was weighed, the amount figured out, and the buyer counting out the cash to pay me for the same, when in stepped a man and asked the grocer what he was doing. " Paying for this lot of cheese," he replied. "We don't want it. This fellow was in here the other day and I told
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him we didn't want to buy cheese." The grocer put away his money, when I said to him, "What has all this to do with our bargain, anyhow ?" "I am a partner in this con- cern." "Very well," said I, "then pay for the cheese I sold the firm; if not, you can settle with Lawyer Marshall," and started out. "Hold on," said he, "as it is, I'll give give you one-half in cash and one-half in salt and take the cheese." "How much a barrel for salt?" I asked. "Eight shillings and six pence," said he. "That will do," I ro plied. The salt was loaded aboard the boat, homeward bound, and I sold it to the farmers at $1.50 per barrel. Just as I was leaving the kicking grocer, to get fairly even with him I advised him to better keep a little salt on hand to salt down his cheese skippers. Later we heard that the cheese market had fallen off somewhat at the canal grocery, but the skipper market had improved.
CHAPTER XXXII.
AN EARLY VISITOR.
A TERRIFIC YELL-A MAGICAL EFFECT.
N 1847 a little burg in Erie County, Pa., named by a straight haired preacher "Tighthole," who had la- bored earnestly for their soul's salva- tion, and when about to leave the place, the preacher felt that his good work was not fully appreciated, and in his prayers he desired the Lord to bless that community, especially the people of Tighthole-hence the place took that name. The town is situated on the old Erie & Pittsburg Canal, about two miles south of Albion, and that was the name generally used by the boatmen. Later it was called Harrisonville, and now Keepville.
In those days rousing meetings were held in the school houses where there were no church buildings. It was a common occurrence for the preacher to exhort and sing so earnestly that he would sweat like a rail splitter in midsum- mer, and all for a small pittance. Nevertheless much inter- est was taken in the meetings. The writer (then a youth of 16) accordingly took it into his head one crisp Sunday afternoon in January to go down to Tighthole to meeting, also to attend the evening services. Good meetings were had and the usual interest manifested. There were numer- ous young people there with whom I was acquainted, and I
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