USA > Rhode Island > Reminiscences of Rhode Island and ye Providence Plantations > Part 6
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In those early days there lived on Seekonk Plains an old negro couple. One day, when the man was off to work, the old lady went down to the shore to collect eel grass for greens. They had a very tame goose ; this she took with her. In order to prevent the bird from straying, the old woman anchored it to a large stone, which was below tidewater mark. She was so intent in her work that she forgot all about the goose. The tide came in ; the string was short. When about to go home she looked for the goose; it was nowhere to be seen. After a careful search she found it drowned. She took it home, and told her sad tale to her husband. His sympathy was expressed in these words : " You might have known that a goose raised on Seekonk Plains would not know how to swim ! "
Prior to about 1880 there were few lighthouses on the bay. Canimicut was the last as you sailed up the bay. Since then there have been erected five-Bullock's Point, Sabin's Point, Pomham, one near Squantum, and one at Sassafras Point. One very dark night in August, 1870, I had an experience in coming up the bay. The only guide I had was the light at Canimicut, which was behind me. I steered by the center board, a queer thing to use. I could see nothing; there were no lights along the shore as now. So I sailed until the center board struck bottom, then came about ; then on the other tack, repeating the same. The most dangerous thing in the way was a channel post that had got loose, and was floating on the top of the water. It was secured in some manner, and was near the old Clam House. But, as I was now nearing the city, the lights therefrom helped me a little. I had with me two women and a small boy. Be- low Field's Point the wind was heavy ; at Canimicut light I tried to reef the sail, but was unable to accomplish it, so I kept the sail very close into the wind.
The Peck family lived on Arnold street. Mary, the older girl, was quite a writer. She wrote poetry. About 1853 or '54, thereabouts, The Journal discontinued the New Year's address, so Mary Peck wrote one for the newsboys.
In 1850 tomatoes were not generally eaten in Rhode Island. In the summer of 1850 I was down on my aunt's farm, with my cousin Tomas (as he called himself; being born on the Island of Cuba, he was christened after the Spanish form of the name Tomas). On the hill or village, near the blacksmith's shop, was
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quite a bed of tomatoes. My cousin and I, having learned, while living in New York city, to eat the tomato, we picked and ate a number. The village boys looked at us as though we were eating something poisonous. In New York City the tomato is often cooked with onions, about half and half, fried together ; it makes a fine dish. In the olden times, before the tomato was thought to be fit to eat, it was a house plant, and was called " love apple."
The first of May used to be a great day. Parties would be organized to go out into the woods to pick wild flowers. The boys and girls would get up very early in the morning and go to the woods. They were always back in time to go to school. In those days the May-basket was quite an institution. They were made generally of colored papers, cut in regular strips of about one-half an inch wide, then put together like basketwork. At night a boy would bring one of these baskets to the door of the house of the young girl he loved best. He would ring the door bell, then run. No name was put into the basket, the girl must guess who was her lover, who was the boy who thought so much of her as to give her a May-basket. It was very romantic.
In the summer, while on the farm, at vacation time, I frequently helped to thrash oats. The team consisted of a yoke of oxen with a horse in the lead ; I rode the horse. The farmers would throw off' the oats from the stack, and round and round we would go, and thereby thrash out the oats like in the old Bible times This plan superseded the old flail. Now this is done by machinery.
Between the Larkin and Teft families there was a feud-one had, they said, stolen a hatchet, the. other a turtle. One day there was an auction. A watch was up for bids. One of the men said he would take it if it had a hatchet-key, the other replied he would take it if it had a turtle-case. Thus they hit each other. How it ended I do not know.
The Great Swamp was a fine natural cranberry field. In the fall of the year the farmers would gather these berries. Some gathered them by scoop, while others picked by hand. The hand process was the cleaner; the berries did not have to be separated from the grass. Such farmers as hired the farm, or worked upon shares, paid rent by the cranberries gathered.
One of the queer characters in South Kingston was Arnold Sherman, the son of David. They both lived on a little rocky
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farm of forty acres, on the hillside, two miles or more in from the road. They had a right of way through their neighbor's private roads. Only once did I see Arnold off the forty-acre farm. He never saw a city, and had no inclination to see one, and I do not suppose that he more than a few times ever went to the village. He was a good scholar ; was well read in the his- tories of the nations and the Bible. As for the novels and the poetry of the world, he knew nothing of them. Arnold used to say " Give me two ten-barrel revolvers and a sword, and I'd like to see any man come near me." He had queer ideas of arms; he never fired off a gun or pistol in his life. But there was no need of him knowing how to handle firearms. The orchard to his forty-acre farm was fully half rock, yet the trees flourished there, and fine apples grew. After his father and stepmother died he was left alone. He soon got rid of the horse, the cow and the steers. He planted enough to keep himself, sold very little, and bought very little. His neighbors would do errands for him at the hill or village. A little flour and kero- sene oil were the chief things he needed. For a while he had a small dog. He was very shy of the cars on the Narragansett Pier road that came by his house. When he heard the cars coming he would hide behind the barn and peep out at them One time I asked him if he ever drank any cider. "No, I can't afford it ; it costs five cents a quart, and I would want four quarts a day. I could not afford it." Arnold Sherman died some twelve or fifteen years ago. He was one for whom we shall always have a pleasant memory.
Another odd character was Benjamin Watson, generally called Ben Watson. He kept a little old country store near the old South Kingston station. Ben owned all the land about the station. The railroad needed more land, but Ben would not sell. Ile would say " I don't see what they want more land for." As they could not buy of Ben, they went about a third of a mile south. This is why the Kingston station was moved to the new place. Every time a train came in Ben could be seen sitting on the fence. In those days, as Kingston was a halfway place, there was a large shed kept full of wood, and an engine there to saw it. When the road was first started they used only hard wood, but as the hard wood got scarce they began to use Southern pine, and at the end only pine was used. At the " de-pot," as Ben Watson always
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called it, there was an eating room. All trains stopped at King- ston. Some fifteen or twenty minutes were allowed for eating. When a train arrived there was always a rush of the passengers to this wayside eating place. All such places are now done away with. We now have dining cars and eat as we travel ; no time is lost.
When bicycles of the safety pattern were first introduced there was a bicycle race at the Kingston fair. The racers were gathered, some five or six. The man who attracted the most attention was one of the little-giant build. He could not have been more than five foot four, but had the shoulders and limbs of a giant. As he stood there with a blanket thrown around him, waiting for the order to go, he was admired by all. In the same company of racers was a tall, slender youth, perhaps five foot ten, light build, arms and legs about the size of those of the other man's wrists. They started, the young giant well to the front and the slender man well to the back. After seeing the start I took a position where I could see them end. As I looked across the course I saw that the slender man was ahead. Would be maintain his position ? He did. He came in fully fifty feet ahead of the others, and the little giant was in the rear.
The old farm where I used to go to spend my summers from 1850 to the time of the war was then about a mile or more in from the main road. Later the Pier Railroad cut it north and south, ' and a pike road east and west. The house is now gone ; for some years it was the headquarters for tramps, who, perhaps by care- lessness, set it afire. Nothing now remains but the chimney. A few hundred feet from the house is the pond, one of the finest in Rhode Island. It is said to contain sixty-five acres, and there was fine fishing there. For years it has not been fished ; not even a boat on it. In this pond I learned to swim and to sail a boat, In those days my cousin had a small sailboat there. Sometimes I would go down to the pond of a winter and skate. Of a warm day, when the sun would heat the air under the ice to such an extent as to produce expansion, there would be sounds under it which resemble the terrible groans of some giant. This farm, and the one across the pond, now belongs to the William Potter estate. Every spring, when we plowed, we found Indian arrowheads, showing that in colonial times there must have been
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some fighting in the neighborhood of this pond. The great Indian fight was down in a part of our Great Swamp.
Another queer character who lived near the Great Pond (" Gret Pond," as it was called) was Perry Gavit. He was an odd-looking character, and had an odd boat on the pond. It was more like a huge dry goods box than a boat, with side boards in place of a center board. This was the first and only side-board boat I ever saw. Perry was of medium size; skin tanned like an Egyptian mummy ; wore pants all shredded at the bottom, and so short that they only came about half way to his ankles ; a vest, and a very clean white cotton shirt, with long, partly gray hair, black eyes and unkempt beard. In all sorts of weather he wore an old beaver hat that showed years of wear. He was a most picturesque looking individual. One of his sons went West. After being there some years he returned to the old place for a visit. Some curious persons asked him where he lived, but they could not learn from him. His only reply was, " Where he sun sets."
Shackleford's bakery, on Brook street near William, was a great place to get baked beans and Indian pudding. Sunday mornings in particular the citizens would go there to get these things. The goods Mr. Shackleford made and sold were fine, and in great demand. We shall never forget him and his beans . and Indian pudding.
The introduction of water necessarily called for a good sewerage system. Before this all that pertained to water supply and sewer- age was exceedingly crude. The city was full of cisterns. People who could afford it had bathrooms, &c., but the supply of water would now be considered inadequate, The sewers were all pri- vate, rudely constructed of brick or rough stone, about twelve inches square. With the waterworks came the large round or elliptical sewer, and the round earthen drainpipe. Some people are all the while eulogizing the past and belittling the present. If they had to go back to the ways of old I think that they would complain as much as other people, and ery out for improvements. The waterworks and the drainage of a city are highly necessary for health and comfort. There are some disadvantages, such as polluting the rivers, but in due time this will be corrected. If we could, by electricity, cremate all our refuse of the body and
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the table, I think it would be a good thing. Some day this may come.
In those days many country people, and some city people, made their own soap and candles.
We must not forget Cockey Ross. I do not know that he was a Jew, but have often thought that he was. He was a queer little man, wore sharp-toed boots, rode in an old-fashioned one-horse shay. It is said that he had his carpets on the ceiling, and he hung his chairs on hooks on the wall. He was an express agent. He altered his house so that the first story was eighteen or twenty feet high.
Before the war many horseshoe nails were made by hand. There was a place on North Meeting street, next above the large livery stable, on the corner of Meeting and Benefit. Here were employed some five or six hands. They were very expert, but with all their expertness they could not compete with the machine, so the hand-wrought nail business came to an end.
The Rhode Island Schoolmaster was a fine little magazine, devoted to the welfare of education. About 1868 or '69 Mr. Thomas W. Bicknell, the editor, went to Boston. The Rhode Island Schoolmaster was discontinued and the New England Journal of Education started in Boston. For some time this school journal flourshed, but in the course of ten or twelve years Mr. Bicknell returned to Providence and went into some other business. What has become of the New England Journal of Education I do not know. Mr. Bicknell is a fine speaker. He was, I believe, for a short time a member of the Legislature. A man of his ability and love for the State should be sent to the United States Senate. Some day I hope to see him there.
I would call attention to the building of a new house in New- port-perhaps in the forties. Colonel Barton was building a house. Peoyle were very inquisitive, so much so that he finally put up a sign that the house was to be so Irrge, so high, to be of brick, inside hardwood finish, &c. One night a delegation of citizens came to his house with all sorts of instruments with which they could make a noise-tin horns, tin pans, &c. A most elequent speaker steped to the front and said: "Colonel we are humbly thankful for the information that you have put upon the board, but there is one important item that you have
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failed to inform us about, that is, whether the house is to be painted or to be whitewashed !" The Colonel took the joke in good part, and invited the crowd in to "take something."
Thus ends the Reminiscences. Already very complimentary letters have been received in regard to the first paper, and re- quests have been made for extra copies. The reading of the proof of any paper is a task. Errors will creep in, even after the proof has been carefully read. In the first paper I said, "Odessa, the seaport of St. Petersburg." It should be Cron- stadt. It seems impossible to avoid these mistakes. May these papers stimulate others to " go and do likewise." I have called attention to William Jefferies' Journal, an interesting volume, and one that every Rhode Islander should read. Mr. Jefferies was an intelligent man. He left behind him a record well worth reading. We would that we knew more of the colonial fathers, and mothers, too. Neither Williams nor Blackstone left such records as these of Jefferies. The past of Rhode Island was made grand by these men. We honor them. May their souls progress in peace ! Peace on earth and good will towards men was the keynote of their lives. We want soul-liberty. It is a a grand thing. We also want State-liberty, liberty to the indi- vidual ; free the right of franchise. The two go together. Of late years the little Benjamin of States has put herself in line with the rest. She has grand institutions, unexcelled-the peer of the best. A little leaven leaventh the whole lot. The leaven of soul-liberty has spread ; its effect has reached all the States. If there ever was a man who should be canonized, it is Roger Williams. We of to-day do not canonize people as they did in the past, but the memory of their good work is enshrined in our hearts.
JUNE, 1905.
ISAAC P. NOYES.
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J. P. Marco, Taxi, B. C. 8.29.19
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(20 SUPPLEMENT.)
Reminiscences of Rhode Island and
Ye Providence Plantations.
A CORRECTION-In the first paper I said Thorne was the manager of the Providence Theatre in the fifties. It should be FORBES.
One of the unique characters in Providence was Perry Davis. He got up a "pain killer." Being a poor man, he took a large basket and peddled his medicine around, wherever he could find customers. His business prospered. At first he opened a small office and laboratory, where he manufactured the " pain killer," a compound of alcohol, camphor, capsicum, and perhaps a little opium. As his business grew he put the article on sale in all the drug stores, and also in some grocery stores. Most of the country stores kept it. It was a sovereign remedy, to be taken .
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internally or applied externally. Being a religious man, he built a church ; later his sons and daughters married, and built fine honses, one being at the "Pier." One of his sons-in-law bought a fine place on the west side of the Bay, and established a farm, where he would have no animals but white ones. The sons and daughters are dead, and the business is sold to a house in Canada. But "pain killer " is still sold, not so extensively as it was, but it is still upon the markets of the world, and almost every vessel carries it.
Henry S. Latham was another unique character. When about fourteen he entered the High School in Providence. He was a good scholar, was of a mournful cast of mind, yet a good and even jovial companion. He took the Latin course, and in three or four years entered Brown University. After graduat- ing here he went to Andover to prepare himself for the ministry of the Baptist persuasion. His religious turn of mind prompted this, but it was a mistake. He would have made a good teacher, and, better, a professor, in some university, where he could have taught Greek and Latin. As a minister he was a failure; people soon tired of him. His reading of the Psalm of Life was the most mournful I ever heard. He seems to have had some means. He lived, and that was about all. He went out to Greenville, and one day he was found dead in his little room ; had been dead for a number of days. Thus ended the life of a good, pious and kind man-a man who missed his calling. His little poem, from the album of Susan Sentiment, well illustrates him. I do not vouch for him being the author of this, but it has been published in the High School Magazine under his mark :
"I fain would spend life's weary hours with thee, my friend, But not in affection's fairy bowers
Are we to spend our precious lives,
These heaven-born powers that soon must end. Along thy pathway may sweet flowers their fragrance lend, And () when the gloomy tempest lowers, on God depend, Ile'll help thee in thy darkest hours and be thy friend."
So much for Henry S. Latham. I give the poem from mem- ory. His school chum was Henry Appleton, who is now, or was in 1904, an editorial writer on the Boston Globe.
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Having no connection with Latham, but a most intimate one with Appleton, was Peleg S. Sherman, a most genial sonl. In those days, just before the war, the two young men were the most intimate of any men I ever knew. Peleg was then in prospe- rons business ; Henry was poor. Henry wanted to go to Europe to complete his German studies ; Peleg materially helped him.
In the South County, near South Kingston, was a family by the name of Larkin, heretofore referred to. This one was a genial man, but liked rum. He had a clock with which he had some difficulty in making it stay on the shelf or bracket upon which he put it. One day, when under the inthience of liquor, he got a six-inch spike and nailed it right through the face. " Damn ye, I guess you'll stay there now !"
There was another queer character in this same town. His name was Jeffrey Champlin. He was so low that they called him "Hog Jeff Champlin." In the spring, when cleaning ont the barnyard, he would not wash his hands before going to dinner. At the table he would take up a piece of pork with his hands, ent off' a piece and throw it on the plates of his hired hands. They objected to this. He was disgusted as well as they, and was prompted to say "A man who can't eat um can't work mm." He had no idea how near he was resembling the sound of Latin.
The old circus has passed. It was much smaller than the cirens of to-day, but it was good. The clown was fine. At one of their entertainments they had two men so dressed as to repre- sent a jackass. After a while the clown gets mad with the jackass, takes his sword and ents it in two. In this condition it runs in behind the screen.
Then there was the panorama and diorama. They are all passed and gone now. There were panoramas of the Mississippi, the Nile, etc. One of the dioramas represented the burning of Moscow. While the scenery was being moved a young woman would play on the melodeon. A. favorite tune was "Home Again."
Daniel Barney and Mr. Davenport were both builders-one a stone mason, the other a carpenter. Mr. Barney rode around in an elegant buggy and dressed more like a doctor than a mechanic. Mr. Davenport was quite the reverse. Only on Sun- days was he well dressed, and then not so well as Mr. Barney on
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week days. Mr. Barney hired a poor class of workmen. The result was he always had to stand over them and would not leave them long alone. Mr. Davenport hired the best carpenters in the city-men who knew what was to be done and how to do it. There was not much overseeing on the part of Mr. Davenport. He would ride around visiting his different jobs. The two men were types of their class.
Judge Carpenter, of the United States District Court, was an able and genial man. He became a Mason and was advanced to the rank of an Inspector-General of the Northern Supreme Council.
Ellery Milland, the mason and contractor, had a peculiar way of laying brick, unlike the rest of the masons of Providence. All the others would assort their bricks into three shades, and would place the dark bricks on the first story ; on the second story they would use the next shade, while on the upper story they would lay the lighter shade. Mr. Milland reversed this. Especially in a city where the streets were narrow, as in Providence, he would lay the light bricks on the first story, the next shade on the second and the dark bricks on the upper story. He claimed that by this process the whole building looked even. The light bricks were on the first or lower story, where there was less light; as the walls arose they got more and more light, so that the dark bricks on the upper story were blended better, and the whole appeared as one even mass. I think he was right. If a house stood alone with ample grounds the other plan might be the better, but in a narrow street Mr. Milland's idea was the right one.
A few years before the war there came to Providence a Scotch painter by the name of Catanaugh, who was, up to that time, the most artistic painter perhaps in America, certainly in Provi- dence. He could imitate marble so well that it was difficult to tell it; even to the touch it was cold like real marble. He treated the altar in old St. Stephen's Church, imitating some red Italian marble. Later, when the old church was abandoned, and a new and poor congregation took it, they painted this beautiful work over with common white paint. It was ignorance that prompted this, and, but for this ignorance, I should say " vandalism." Without doubt the Episcopal Church folks are
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the most artistic, though of late years some of the other con- gregations are getting to be more like them. In olden times they had little regard for art; they did not see the culture that it led to. At Christmas time the Episcopalians have shown their artistic culture in the trimming of their churches. Christ- mas, 1868, the new St. Stephen's was the most artistically trimmed of any church in the country. The columns were trimmed in a new manner; in the clear story were banners, with Scripture mottoes. Being thirty feet or more above the heads of the people, they looked like silk, and some thought them to be such. "Hosanna," " Peace on earth," " Messiah," &c., were some of the mottoes. Blank-wall spaces were decorated with symbols inclosed in cireles of wreaths. The effect was fine. Since then others have followed, and even books have been printed and illustrated, showing a variety of designs, but no credit has yet been given to the humble member of St. Stephen's Church, who was the original designer of these church Christmas decorations.
In the fifties the Block Island boats were common in the waters between the island and Providence. They were engaged in fish- ing, but since the war the steam fishboat has come and the sail- boats have gradually disappeared. They were fine boats; some with one sail, some with two-all lap-streak. They were good sailers-good rough-water boats. In 1660 William Jefferys in his Journal disensses them, and, what there are left of them, they are the same to-day.
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