USA > Rhode Island > Bristol County > Bristol > Sketches of old Bristol > Part 6
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There was one man in town in those days who used to get real angry at us boys, and he had good reason to be. That was Wm. H. D'Wolf, a son of Sen. James D'Wolf, who was a very noted personage in these parts from the year 1800 up to the time of his death in 1837. The D'Wolf homestead was a massive structure and enclosed with an iron fence on a freestone foundation, and the gates were of iron. Ike Gorham, T. S. Gladding, Frank Dimond, Lucius Norris, and some others conceived the idea of fastening the gates, which was done after dark under the protec- tion of the big elms out in front. The gates were securely tied with a fine wire, top and bottom. Next morning the boys were on hand to see the fun, and fun it was. I think the whole family had a try at opening the gates. About midday the trouble was located, and the vials of the old gentleman's wrath broke loose; he fumed, he swore, and finally offered $ 5 as a reward if he could find out who did the mischief. We boys then concocted a plan which was successfully carried out. One boy was deputized to confer with Mr. D'Wolf and offer the information. He did so and got the five dollars, and then gave the names of nearly every boy in town. When the old gentleman sensed the trick that had been played
*The residence and office of Dr. Julius C. Gallop for many years. Now owned and occupied by Dr. Wm. L. Serbst.
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on him, he laughed and took the mischief in good part. We had a regular blow-out with the five dollars, in cakes, candy, fruit, hard-boiled eggs, and cup custards from George W. Easter- brooks' father's little store at the lower end of State street, near Thames street.
"Scup has come." What times we had going a-fishing, and if there is any fish sweeter and more delicious than a scup freshly taken from the water I would like to know what the fish is. And I believe there is more genuine fun in scup fishing than any other piscatorial pastime. In my younger days the women used to go out fishing like the men. Then our clams; they are hard to describe, but a good old-fashioned clambake and fish chowder surpasses the menu of any hotel. Rocky Point years ago was looked upon, in connection with Mount Hope, east side, as the most favorite place. Rocky Point was run as a clambake ground by Capt. Winslow of Warren, and during the season a small side-wheel steamer "Argo" was run from Providence, Warren and Bristol to convey parties to and from Rocky Point. Then nearer home we had Cold Springs and Mount Hope, and where is the Bristol boy who has not sat in King Phillip's seat and drank from the spring. Good old Joe Fish lived near the springs; old man Fish loved the flowing bowl, and when he was "full" the boys gave him a wide berth, yet he was a good-hearted man.
At Cold Springs picnics were the principal pastime, and the crowd generally chartered Nathan Warren's stage, in and on top of which old and young were conveyed to the Springs. No tables but nature's-just plain, old-fashioned style. Each family car- ried a large basket and on arrival all were made common among the crowd. Snow white tablecloths were laid on the ground and old-fashioned silver graced the table. The men made the lem- onade and boys carried the water. After supplying the wants of the inner man, old and young devoted an hour or two to frolic and fun. Old gray-haired matrons and men played about like children. Mrs. Dr. Holmes, Mrs. Briggs, Mrs. Babbitt, Mrs. Morice, and many others just romped and played, and the day was passed merrily and happily; and as the sun was setting the
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crockery, silverware and dishes were gathered together, and, mounting the stage, load after load was carried home. There was no formality whatever; all came out to enjoy themselves and they did not fail to do so. And who does not remember the "Love Rocks" and the old wind-mill towering above the rocks, which were at the south end of the town; how much courting and love-making was done at those rocks? Then there was the "Ten Acre Lot" where the Rubber Works now stands, which was used by the boys for a ball ground. What fights and quarrels took place on those grounds, but nobody was ever hurt. There was Goree, a sort of suburb of Bristol where the colored population lived. I never did know where it got the name, but it was known by that name as far back as I can remember.
There was Major Cushman, who bought and sold old iron and traded horses, and had his warehouse or storehouse where the Rogers Free Library building now stands. Bristol boys, just before the Fourth of July, would be gathering up metals of all kinds to sell to the Major. An incident of Major's trading was often told and I will relate it. Major had fed and fixed up with all the conceivable tricks a horse dealer knows, an old balky and stubborn horse, and harnessing him to a gig had started toward Providence. On the road he met another trader who had bested him on one or two occasions. Major stopped his team and com- menced to talk horse. The other took the bait offered and wanted to purchase the horse, gig and all. Major's price was $ 100. The man wanted to know if he would not sell for less. Old Major said simply, "Try a pull and see." "Well," said the man, "I will give you $85, it's all the money I have." Major, kinder slow- like, replied "All right; I like the horse, but he is a little too fiery for me-you can have him." The major always had one or two frames doctoring and getting ready to trade or sell. He never guaranteed age, condition or disposition of any animal, and he seldom was worsted.
Prof. DeWolf, who lived about half a mile to the east of Ferry road, was another pioneer citizen. For some reason, I can- not say, the boys held him in greater awe than any of our pastors.
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To us he was a strange man; no boy ever asked permission to get fruit from his trees that was refused; nevertheless we looked upon him as a kind of hermit.
Who is there that does not remember jolly, laughing George Pearse of Bristol Ferry, and his trips with the mail for the Rhode Island side, coming in his carryall about II a. m., receiving the mail from Mr. Hunt, driver of the stage, and carrying it to the ferry, there to be ferried across to the Island and hurried to Newport. How many of us is there who have not walked two miles to the ferry to cross and recross in the sloop ferry boat.
Well, Hezekiah Pitman was another of our old timers, a life long Democrat, whose opinion on political matters was received as standard authority. I do not recollect how long he was in the post office service, but I do know that when the post office was on the north side of State street "Kiah" Pitman was there and I believe continued to be about the office for many years. But what a good old "bach" "Kiah" was. Did ever any one see him when he was not chewing tobacco?
At certain seasons of the year, molasses and sugar were being discharged on all the wharves from Perry's up to Peck's wharf. The men that were boys then, must well remember the rows of molasses casks covering nearly the whole of the wharf, with the swarm of boys running around on the bilges of the casks sampling the contents. The boys of these days don't quite enjoy life, I think. They know not the pleasure of "lickin 'lasses", of running a smooth round stick down into the bung hole of a cask of new crop New Orleans molasses and drawing it through the curl of the tongue. The crafts too were objects of keen interest and curiosity to us boys. We roamed over the decks, sniffed in at the galley door, peeked in the cabin, and took a good smell of the bilge water at the main hatch. Some of the more venturesome climbed part way up the ratlines of the lower rigging, and some more daring, would even go over the futtock shrouds or crawl through the "lubber hole" into the fore or main tops. The boys always seemed to have free access to the molasses, even to carry- ing it away in tin-pails, and were seldom or ever molested unless
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they behaved too badly. One day the boys had taken charge of a cargo on the wharf at the foot of Church street and becoming more of a nuisance than usual, the agent promptly drove the whole gang up the wharf on to Thames street; whereupon these young scamps, surrounding him at a good safe distance, saluted him with the beseeching cry, in aggravating reiteration-
"Mister Babbitt Lemme lab it."
But not all our pleasures were found at the water front. The woods and hills back of the town were never lacking in interest to us boys. What pleasant old time memories arise at the thoughts of "Mount Hope", "Fox Hill", "Uncle Isaac's", "Clarke's El- bow" and the "Tan Yard". Strangers to Bristol would hardly be attracted by the name of the last mentioned locality. Tan yard generally suggests a very useful and active business associated with many unpleasant sights, and an all-pervading vile odor. Not so "our Tan Yard". Here were the deep, cool, sweet smell- ing woods. The "swamp apple" and the browse grew here, and "sassafras" and "black birch". A deep, clear brook wandered slowly through towards "Walker's Cove". In this brook the speckled turtle made his home, while high up in the tree tops overlooking all were the nests of many generations of fish hawks and crows. "Fox Hill" was a favorite haunt, it was always good for huckleberries and blackberries in their season. Here too was to be found the great staple of a prominent youthful industry- sweet fern. Almost every boy in town in those days, sooner or later, engaged more or less extensively in the making of sweet fern cigars, mostly for home consumption, the odorous fumes of which were wont to provoke much pretended disgust on the part of our elders who used a much viler weed.
The arrival of the "whalemen", of which I remember a few in my day, was always an occasion of pleasurable excitement, especially among those who had relatives aboard. The move- ments of vessels on long voyages in those days were only known by chance reports and the arrival of a whaler could only be pre- dicted in some cases by the length of time the vessel had already
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been out. So that a ship might be looked for for weeks and even months before her arrival. But some morning, perhaps, a square- rigged vessel would be seen far away under "Prudence", which the knowing ones down town fancy they recognize as the "Leon- idas" or the "Corinthian", or some other of the overdue "spout- ers". The news spreading, many a spy-glass would be leveled on the approaching craft. Some would go to the roofs of houses for a better view and a knot of old "salts" would likely take a station on the head of the wharf, anxiously watching the move- ments of the up-coming vessel. By and by Captain somebody, with the long spy-glass, announces that "she is keeping off" for the Bristol channel, and about this time a flash is seen from the ship and in a few seconds the dull boom of the gun is heard. The doubt is settled; she is a whaleman and headed for Bristol.
By this time the knowing ones have made her out and the news spreads rapidly that the old is coming in, and glad are the hearts of fathers and mothers, and brothers and sisters, at the prospect of meeting those from whom they have been parted for three or four years. And now as she moves slowly up the harbor, with her courses and light sails furled, about all the male population of the town are gathered on the wharf to greet the returned voyagers. When they come ashore the young men of the crew are the heroes of the hour, and move with a roll in their walk which is the envy of all the boys who vainly try to imitate it. But this has long since passed. Bristol has for nearly fifty years been out of the whaling business.
Well, who remembers the trips to Newport on 'Lection day in the good old schooner "Hard Times"? If the planks of that old schooner could talk, many things ludicrous would have been known to the people of the town. Among the girls and the boys who used to make those trips were the Misses Church, Spooner, Doty, Pearce, Manchester, Munro, Green, Slade, and the boys, Wm. H. Spooner, Gladding, George and Charles Bourne, Will Mun- roe, Chris Baker, Frank Dimond and many others whose names I cannot recall. Little did we think that fifty years later those events would be recalled and written about by one of the party.
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I cannot forget Daniel and James Wilcox's ice cream and candy store on Hope street, north of the Eagle Bank. When James died Daniel carried on the business at the same stand for years. In those days cigars were very cheap, only a cent a piece, and those who knew said they were good. William Fales, father of William and Edward Fales, was given out to be the heaviest smoker in town. He always had his cigar in view and his hat full of them. He had amassed a fortune in the West Indies and lived at his ease; he was one of our most conservative citizens, a strong and faithful member of St. Michael's church, simple in attire, a quiet and easygoing man, one of the old-timers.
Charles Fales was also a resident of our town and was Spanish consul for the port; he married Allen Usher's daughter. As I look back on it few of the boys married their first loves or sweet- hearts, and many never married at all. How many young couples could be seen wending their way slowly along Pappoosesquaw road; others went down by the Love Rocks towards the Ferry Road. My old friend John Lake was one of that number, and I believe is still living in the old town, and carrying on a thriving grocery business on the corner of High and Constitution streets.
I have received many letters from my old friends, friends of my boyhood, and I wish to thank them all for their kind appre- ciation and thoughtfulness. In writing these reminiscences I have tried to offend no one; everything about the boys and girls of those years I have endeavored to write with the kindliest feel- ings, and veneration for all, many of whom are now numbered among the dead. In closing, permit me to say that no man born on the soil of Bristol, has more respect and love for the old town and its people, than the writer of these lines.
The names of the old Bristolians which Grafton W. Gardner mentions are, without a single exception, well known to me, and I have spoken to each one of them when I was a boy working at Gooding's store, which was then located on the northwest corner of Hope and State streets.
They all came in from time to time to buy some article of the varied assort- ment on the shelves. I have many pleasant memories of that old corner and of the old farmers (old to me at the time) who every evening during the winter sat
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around the hot stove, awaiting the arrival of the evening stage from Providence (driven by Nat Maxfield) and told stories.
My first memory of Sam Slocum is the morning after the fire which destroyed the "Up Town Mill" in the year 1843. I saw him that morning throw a stone over the belfry on the east end of the standing wall, a feat I do not think could have been done by any other person in the crowd. I knew well what a lover of tobacco Sammy was. Every visit I made to my native town, would result to Sammy's benefit in the tobacco line. He never forgot either my face or name, and after a hearty shake of the hand, would ask: "Goin' to gimme any tobacco this time?" When dressed in his best Sam always wore a remarkable breastpin, as large as life. I have never forgotten that jewelry. Sam was born in Newport in the year 1800; he came to Bristol in early life, remaining here up to a few years before his death. He returned to his native city in ill health where he died in 1881.
GEORGE T. BOURNE
BRISTOL SCHOOLS ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO By GEORGE T. BOURNE, 1836-1904
HOW many of those who read these memories have, like myself, told and retold to children and grandchildren the tales of boy- hood days? Some who will read these lines were my schoolmates and will no doubt recall the incidents, though perhaps long for- gotten. Many, very many, who were among us have passed over to the great and silent majority, but we who are left remember them.
My first recollection of school is the one kept by "Aunt Mar- tha". It was in the little house now standing on the northeast corner of Milk and Byfield streets. Milk street then was only open from Church to Byfield, the extension having been made in later years. Milk street was not its name then, "Cross Lane" was what it was known by. It was said that it was a lane cut by Col. Byfield, who lived in a house formerly on the site of the Tilley house ;* he intended it as a short cut to his barn on Church street, which was in the rear of his house.
*The Isaac F. Williams house.
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"Aunt Martha" was a Mrs. Hadwin; she afterwards married Mr. Billings Waldron, the shoemaker, and resided on Pleasant street until her death. The cottage owned by Mr. John B. Pearce was not then built and my father's garden extended to the school grounds. The board fence between was ancient and moss-grown and instead of going to my lessons by the regular path I would come and go by way of a wide gap in the fence. How long I remained in this school I cannot remember. After the school was given up a family named Brown took the cottage and the three boys were my playmates.
In 1839 there were only four houses in "Cross Lane" before it was opened south of Byfield street. On the west corner of Church street there was a very old house, occupied by a family named Drown; this was later torn down to make place for the new cot- tage owned and occupied by the late Allen Wright. On the east corner the house of my father had just been erected, an "old- timer" having been torn down on the same ground.
On the west corner of Byfield street stood the house now there, the home of Nathan Simmons. On the east corner stood the little schoolhouse, the same as at present. Between the houses of Mr. Simmons and Mr. Wright was the barn and pig-pen owned by Mr. Simmons. The house on the east side of Milk street, for- merly owned and occupied by the late John B. Pearce, was a small cottage built for my grandmother. Mr. Pearce enlarged it and made it into a fine home.
Those were the days of pumps-we had no town water sup- ply; wells supplied the drinking water and folks depended upon cisterns for their supply of water for household purposes. The cisterns, generally in the cellar of the houses, were small and when in the summer time they "run dry" the neighbors' wells were in great demand. I know, for I often carried heavy burdens during the dry spells of those days. There were three wells on which I drew-and sometimes no bucket was to be found at the well. These wells were on the premises of Mr. Tilley, Mr. Norris and Mr. Wright, the latter was my favorite, as it was only a step from my house.
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The theory of germ disease was not then known and drinking water from dangerous wells was not the horror of the day. The well on Mr. Wright's place was about ten feet distant from a badly kept pig stye and about the same distance from the cow barn; yet I never knew or heard of a case of sickness arising from the use of water from that well. I write these few lines in view of the epidemic which visited Bristol during the summer of 1888, when the question of pure drinking water was the leading topic of discussion.
How long I remained at Aunt Martha's school, I do not re- member, for my next school was in rooms over the store at the corner of Hope and Church streets, owned by a Mr. Hoard. The entrance was on the east side, by a flight of wooden stairs outside the main building. This school was kept by Miss Fales, better known to young and old as Aunt Charlotte. I recall nothing spe- cial of my schooldays there, I remember only the corner room and the outside stairs. This school was soon transferred to By- field street, in an old house belonging to Mr. John Lewis. This was afterwards torn down to give place to the present cottage. This school was under the care of Aunt Charlotte. Of this school I can recall some incidents, more particularly of the methods of punishment. There were three of these: first a whip with a lash and a bright red handle; then came the footstove and thimble, the two most always in a kind of partnership, for when we were forced to sit upon the warm foot-stove, we naturally squirmed, and then the thimble, firmly fixed on the teacher's finger, tapped us gently on the head to keep us in place. The gentle heat from the wood ashes in the foot-stove was sometimes welcome, at other times a little too strong, in which case the thimble got in its tapping. I do no recall any other warming for the room, except the foot-stove, and the winters of fifty years ago were cold ones.
We were always trying to get out early, that is before the clos- ing time at noon, but the teacher was always too much for us. One boy rather excited our envy one day by loudly proclaiming that his mother had told him he could leave school at "sixty minutes
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after eleven". How we envied him, and how he wondered why he did not leave before the rest of us.
The date of my leaving this school I do not remember, but my real work commenced when I was sent from there to the "Old Brick". There were no kind old aunties there, for a man was at the head, though there was an assistant teacher, a lady, and the boys were in need of a master, and a strong one.
The original "Old Brick School House" in Bristol was, no doubt, the one erected on "the Neck" in the year 1802, and con- tinued to be the school for the inhabitants of that district, until as late as the year 1841. I well remember having seen this little building for the first time, one day when some of the boys went as far as the "half way hill" to welcome the coming circus. We did not like to pass beyond the hill for fear of the welcome the "Warren boys" might give us. I fancy they said goodbye to the circus before they reached the said spot, for fear of the welcome we might offer, on behalf of our native town. At the time I first saw this house it was used as a dwelling. To-day it is only a heap of old bricks.
The present school house on the corner of High and State streets is the real "Old Brick" to us all. This was completed in I 804 and when I first knew it, it had been enlarged to about twice the original size by an extension towards the East. The old part of the building could easily be distinguished by a wooden railing which was not put upon the new addition. St. Alban's Masonic Lodge occupied the upper part of the old building and is there to-day. The same mysterious symbols were on the west front and we had our boyish ideas of what the meaning was. I fancy some of the boys of that time well know now all the meanings. The upper part of the extension was used as a schoolroom. The part down- stairs was in one room running the length and width of the build- ing, except the hallway for entrance to the upper room.
About the year 1826 Mr. Otis Storrs came to Bristol and opened a private school in the Academy, on what is known as the "Lancasterian system". His success was so great that, in 1828, the committee asked him to take charge of the town school and
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allow girls to go and share his instructions with the boys. Before this, girls did not go to public schools. Upon his acceptance they enlarged the brick school house and fitted it up with reference to the workings of this new system. The teacher's desk stood on a raised platform at the west end of the room and down the length of the room, through the middle, ran a single aisle. On each side of this were arranged semi-circular desks with seats on the outer curve for the scholars. The desks did not have lids but were open in front, and each accommodated eight scholars. On the inner curve was a bench where they sat when reciting.
The monitors, who heard the recitations, had a stool in the centre of the circle. The teacher heard the monitors recite and had supervision of the school. This system was very popular at that time.
When I first became a pupil the room was as described; the high platform at the west end was still there but was occupied by the lady teacher, a Miss Munro, who later became the wife of Capt. Morse. Over the platform, high up on the wall and run- ning the entire width of the room was a narrow blackboard, on which was a handsomely painted alphabet. That relic still adorns the same spot as of yore. On the south side of the room, just halfway, was another desk, occupied by the master whom I re- member as Mr. Osborne. If I am right in this name, I can estab- lish the date of my entry to this school, as the teacher's father was then minister of the Methodist church, which was the year 1842.
One more word about the desks-the outer end of each row had a desk with a lid, and this was always a prize-for the open- ing day of each term or quarter, as it was called, was devoted to choosing seats. The amount of rough play thus produced would not be allowed in our schools today. No small boy ever occupied the "corner seat" for they always fell to a bigger boy. Before I left that school I was the peaceful owner of a desk with a lid, but no lock, so I never entrusted any of my treasures there over night. I was one of the last boys to occupy one of these desks for after a long vacation we returned to our room to find a great change. The reign of the "Lancasterian" era was over, the semi-
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