USA > Vermont > Franklin County > St Albans > A centennial history of St. Albans, Vermont > Part 6
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purses of others, with as much impunity as boys used to with bell pulls and melon patches.
Even the most innocent have suffered in this respect, by being lashed over the back of some relative, owing to some trivial differences or fan- cied wrong.
Upon the receipt of an invitation, notwithstand- ing how much pleasure was anticipated, members of families seldom sacrificed their self-respect by accepting invitations from those who had not pre- viously called upon the ladies of their own home. This sentiment seemed to pervade every age, con- dition, and sex. To illustrate it : Some years ago a little girl of six summers, was invited to a house She inform- with others, to spend the afternoon. ed the youthful Miss of the family, "that her ma would like to have her come, but your ma has never called on my ma." But as individuals be- come more familiar with the usages of society, they take a more sensible view of the whimsical notions of it, and are discovering that persons who assume hauteur or indulge in " poco curante man- ners," that it requires something besides wealth and power, beauty and station, to pass success- fully before " the argus eye " of public opinion."
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ALDIS HILL.
INSCRIBED TO THE COMPANIONS OF MY YOUTH.
In revisiting the scenes of our happy past, I dis- covered that "our own Bellevue," still towers above us. The same sun gilds our hill tops, the same streams ripple through our valleys to the lake, as in the days of our youth. And in passing "old steamboat rock," I was reminded of the eggs and corn we roasted beneath its shade, for the rock is still there, as in the days of Auld Lang Syne. The same trees are there, in which we stoned the squirrels, and beneath which we gathered nuts. And the very locality, where we beheld thirty-two snakes basking in the vernal sun, of which we slew twenty-seven out of the family, is now filled by an Orphans Home; the endowed charity of "the philanthropic Warner," whose soul seems to be here, but his body in another county. And I also remembered our activity in " the field of insectile life," where, with an old veil on a broomstick, and with milkweed pods, we entrapped the gaudy but- terflies, the mottled bugs, and the buzzing bees. Recalling those collections, they would excite the wonder and admiration of our professional ento- mologists.
And I also recalled the times when, equipped with baskets and hammers, we collected horn- blende, silex, and quartz, for our amateur cabinets,
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for the same rocks and stone walls are still there. And our research, too, in microscopical science, when, with our little toy instruments, we discov- ered the wings of a fly were arrayed like the robe of a Jewish rabbi, and beheld the glory of Solomon depicted on the back of a bug ; and solved the in- tricate problem, how many fly-specks would cover an acre of ground ; and beheld on the humble lichen, and the' fragment of plain, old stone, the gorgeous hues of the rainbow, and the setting sun. And with what vivid emotion I recalled the days, when we wandered up the hill to gather for our herbariums, ferns, palm-like, and of maidenhair, anemone, Jack-in-the-pulpit, cardinalis, hepatica, red benjamens, and the violets and honeysuckles "That embalmed the passing gale."
And " the bright capsules of moss That hung like fairy urns On stalks of golden sheen."
Those happy Saturdays, too, when we sat on the very apex of the Hill, gazing hour after hour upon
" The visionary landscapes of the skies,
And the golden capes far stretching into heaven," with the waters of our lake flowing beneath.
It is the same now, as then, but as memory Howed back, the present faded away in these vis- ions of the past, as I recalled the changes time
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has wrought since those days of long ago ; for from the lake shore to Main Street, there were but six buildings on the south side to Nason St., and but eleven on the north to Newton St. Most of the land was then woods and swamps, covered with blueberry bushes, running pine, and winter- green.
At present the whole street is lined, and much of the space filled with pleasant homes. Also, with stores, shops, hotels, and a church, that would adorn any situation. The street for a long dis- tance, now boasts of side-walks, water hydrants, street lights, and many other evidences of pros- perity. Our old cemetery, so plainly visible, with its last line of graves, then marked by those of Lang- worthy, Judge Turner, and the Churches, with its orchard filling its whole front, is now filled with the remains of our past inhabitants, whom we knew so well; for the orchard has disappeared by the sickle of old time. The fields, once so redolent of sweet-brier, and pennyroyal, in which we gath- ered berries, and fallen goose quills, to express our love for others, are now occupied with the palatial homes of our old friends. The old district school-houses, in which we were impregnated with so much sapience? have made way for other structures, and the academy has been replaced by a more modern seat of learning
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" The places" of worship, so plainly seen from this elevation, have also been replaced by more church-like edifices.
"The quaint old Congo, then known as " Old Ironsides," is now represented by an elegant structure in the Paladian style of architecture, with a spire, towering heavenward, with a dim religious light stealing through stained-glass windows. and frescoed walls, that frequently resound to the strains of "the grand te deum" of the mother church, while far up near the sounding clock, and tolling bell, "the head of Peter," looks grimly down and smiles.
The Methodist Chapel, with its old sky parlor, then. called " the great drag net," is replaced by the most church-like temple of worship in town.
The Episcopal Church, so covered with horns, is represented by a beautiful and substantial build- ing in the Anglo-Norman style, of which a friend remarked, "he had seen its counterpart on the island of Smyrna, said to have been five hundred years old."
Since then, the Catholics have also performed miracles in the way of churches, while the Bap- tists, then unknown among us, and "the Univer- salists," styled in our youth as " the old life boat," have been in no manner behind them in zeal. The old Court House, whose pot-like dome, we
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viewed so often from the Hill, and whose walls then echoed to the eloquence of Brown, Smith. Smalley, Aldis, Beardsley, and old Curley, has been replaced by an elephantine hall of justice in the Cathartic style of architecture, its unique tow- ers suggesting closets on the roof, and which needs no bell to summon our present bar.
And as I caught a glimpse of the majestic maples, which now adorn our park, the pride and glory of St. Albans, I compared its present condi- tion with the past. Although now embellished with electric lights, pond, bridge, seats and walks, and the elegant gifts in fountain and drinking tazzas, yet I feel it is still hallowed by the foot- steps of the old fathers and mothers in Israel, who have entered "the vale of shadows," and with the memories of our own boyhood days.
PARSONSVILLE.
This suburb, considered by many our pleasant- est one, extends from Nason Street to Johnny-cake Hill, and was named about fifty years ago, after Capt. Samuel Parsons, who was the father of our former citizen, Jethro Parsons, and the grandsire of my friend, Col. Parsons, lately the possessor of " the Natural Bridge of Virginia," which used to illustrate our geographies; and which became
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more familiar to the Union soldiers, during the Rebellion.
Captain Samuel removed here from Swanton, and displayed so much public spirit in building, was honored with the name it still bears.
But this part of our town could boast as early as 1795 of a painter, a cooper, a shoemaker, car- penter and joiner, a tannery, a tailor, two stores, and a tavern.
In 1802, two physicians located there. There were two taverns and other branches of business were carried on.
The old Nason Tavern set back from the Main road much farther than the present residence of Mr. S. S. Allen, furnishing so much of a common as to be called " the Nason Green," at which time, Major General Nason resided there, and during the annual musters the troops would march down and escort him to the review, on what is now Taylor Park, which generally transpired at 3:30 o'clock, a barrel of rum being placed on tap pre- vious to the grand march.
The plateau in front of the Parsons' place, was often the scene of evening drills, previous to the great event of the annual musters, which afforded much amusement for the boys and girls of the village. And when, and where did we ever be- hold such military bearing ; and when did we ever
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see red plumes wave so gracefully, as from the artillery hats of Daniel Potter. Wm. Bronson, Ed- ward Walker, and Wm. Wilson? What rifle company could boast of so fine looking men, and such officers as Jason Conger, Wm. Bell, and (). B. Tullar ? And who ever handled the drum- sticks so deftly, or half as well as the Greens?
At the foot of Johnny-cake Hill was the home of their father, who, after hearing the first Metho- dist sermon ever preached in town, declared him- self of that faith, and would travel to St. Albans Point to attend meetings, and as early as 1807 formed a class, of which he was leader, which cx- tended to Georgia Bay. He was licensed to preach in 1811. I well remember old Uncle Nate in 18
The brook, babbling through the hollow, lined with its bank of ferns, was a noted locality : for there the children of our early settlers fished for minnows, and plucked the wild clematis that then twined around the alders. There their fathers trapped mink, otter, and beaver; and as long as the caravans travelled the public highway, hun- dreds of our youth would walk down to see them water the elephant, and what was more amusing, was to behold Uncle Ammi Alford come out with the accustomed half bushel of potatoes for the elephant to eat.
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Parsonsville has been so patriotic as to have had several 4th of July celebrations, with speakers, a toast-master, and a free dinner.
The first tragedy, and the first comedy in our town, were acted by the residents of this locality, an old cider mill being rigged up for the theater.
The writer now recalls his first attendance at a theater, when " Pizarro's Tragedy," and the farce called " Fortunes Frolic," were performed in the old cid r mill. Those who remember those scenes, undoubtedly recall the fine appearance our old friend, John Burgess, made in the charac- ter of Pizarro, and Martin Clark, as Rolla who, with his following, were very fortunate in procur- ing the uniforms of the Georgia Rifle Company, which were the most stylish in our county, con- sisting of a bright green frock, faced with white, silver buttons, white epauletts, green velvet cap, with white feathers. They presented a very at- tractive appearance in the evening ; while the farce was equally interesting, with Aunt Luna, who presided at the spinning-wheel, as "Old Marm Ruffhead," and Anson Green, as Son Robin.
But since the removal of the Parsons family, an- other inhabitant has become somewhat conspicu- ous before the public, whose name is Benjamin Franklin Rugg, and although he never made a kite out of a silk handkerchief, and drew lightning
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from its tail, as did his illustrious namesake, yet. he has displayed such a lightning-like energy and public spirit, I am sure old Ben. Franklin would admire him for his pluck and perseverence ; for Benjamin Franklin Rugg, who began his some- what eventful career in a log cabin, eating from the top of a barrel, has, by a life of industy, ac- quired what is equivalent to a mile square of valu- able real estate, and without mentioning the numerous buildings he has erected in other parts of the town, has done more than any other man to build up Parsonsville, having erected in that locality many houses.
PROSPECT HILL.
This charming elevation, and the exquisite views from its summit, have been somewhat obscured by the notoriety given our more familiar Bellevue and Aldis Hill.
This forest-clad and rock-bound eminence is situated on the south-east of Johnny-cake Hill. Being nearer the homes of our earliest settlers, it received its name long before Bellevue was ex- plored, or Aldis Hill was frequented or known in history. It is said some of our seriously-inclined early settlers would visit its secluded nooks, and engage in silent prayer.
One hundred years ago, some foreign miners
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examined it minutely for mineral wealth said to exist there by an Indian sorceress. And previous to 1800, Hezekiah Eastman, the sire of our late Uncle Seth, who had married the widow of an early settler "dreamt that gold existed among his rocks on Prospect Hill," and when he became somewhat weakened (mentally) by advanced age, would take a lantern and wander over the rocks at night, looking for gold.
This hill is approached from the main road south of the large, white house, now owned by our respected townsman, H. G. Morton, which build- ing is a part of our early history; being erected previous to 1797 by David Powers, who had first dwelt in a log cabin in front of his later residence.
On a pleasant day, during the fall of our cen- tennial year, I was induced to visit this locality, and followed the same route pursued twenty years before. The approach to the hill was very pleas- ing, for all through the field " the golden rod " was waving its yellow banners in the sun. " The thorn trees " were glowing like pillars of fire, with their flame-like burden, and "the vervain," reflecting the azure of the sky, was nodding in the breeze, while over fence and wall clung the trailing vine. The autumnal foliage was in all its beauty, upon which
" The rainbow had repeated its dyes,
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And glorious sunsets Had left their golden light."
And as one by one the leaves fell to mother carth, they spread a carpet beneath my feet, which no mosaic could equal. Even the birds seemed to rejoice at the scene, and sing their pleasure from every bush ; and the sound of joy came from the squirrels, that skipped over the moss-grown rocks, while the sense of smell was regaled by the sweet perfume of the herbage.
Reaching the top, what a panorama greeted the vision. Afar in the distance, loomed up long ranges of mountains, in all their lofty grandeur. The spires of distant churches, glistening amid the forests in every direction, and in front, flowed the waters of Champlain, dotted with myriads of islands, and whitened with many a sail. It was in- deed a fit subject for a painter.
In taking a nearer view of what lay before me, I was reminded of what has often been suggested. that the village should have been started on the tract of land lying between the Jewell road and the foot of Prospect Hill. The visitor to this locality will readily be impressed with the desirability of this situation. Such superior drainage could be procured, and such a fine foundation for streets and walks. This hill is a noted spot, for there our first violinist received his inspiration from catgut.
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There old Uncle John Powers, the first fiddler in town, a son of David Powers, one of our first set- tlers, the builder of the white house, would spend day after day, perfecting himself with the fiddle and the bow.
In connection with this locality, an amusing in- cident occurred some fifty years ago. In the white house dwelt an old couple, but one day the hus- band was among the missing. The alarm being sounded, nearly all our village inhabitants set out to discover the lost. The rocks at the foot of the hill, and the pond beyond, were diligently search- ed. The well, and the foot of the cellar stairs were carefully examined, finally, as a last resort, the barn was entered, wherein was found the old man, asleep on the mow, who, being awakened, stated, " that feeling romantic, and the new hay smelling sweeter than his bed, concluded to take a nap." As the long procession escorted him to the door, where stood his helpmate, they naturally anticipated some words of gratitude for their aid and sympathy, but she blurted out, "you pesky critters, you had better go hum. Some women can have half a dozen husbands, but I have got to live forever with that old noodle noddy," which re- sulted in our kind-hearted villagers enjoying a good laugh all the way home.
Here follows the notice of a scene, for which I
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am indebted to a highly-esteemed lady for refresh- ing my memory, of which I had once heard, and who aided in preparing the refreshments for the memorable occasion. On March 4th, 1829, Uncle Cy Smith, a simon-pure Jacksonian, decided to celebrate the inauguration of Andrew Jackson, as president of the United States, consequently invit- ed over thirty to breakfast with him, having fur- nished some spiritual elevator to aid in digestion ; and after a bountiful spread, a procession was formed in the following order :
Committee on Artillery, drawing field piece by hand.
Committee on Jugs from Parsonsville. Drummers and Fifers. Jug Committe from Johnny-cake Hill. Inspectors of Artillery and Jugs. Invited Guests.
Straggling Political Mourners, to Watch the Jugs.
The March wind was blowing over the snows of winter, which glistened in the vernal sun, when this procession moved through the fields, enliven- ed by the strains of martial music ; and as they hauled the piece of artillery, and the jugs, up the rocky eminence of Prospect Hill, it was a scene upon which Napoleon would have gazed with rap-
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ture, and of which Old Hickory himself, would have exclaimed, "By the Eternal, the Green Mountain Boys have neither lost their pluck nor patriotism."
After reaching the top, the various committees exchanged the usual civilities? Then followed salute after salute, interspersed with patriotic music, toasts, and speeches, upon the conclusion of which, a select, and very-judicious committee, was appointed by Uncle Cy, to examine the jugs, and ascertain if they were in condition to carry them as safely down hill, as they did up.
Individuals visiting Prospect Hill will reproach themselves for not being there before.
OUR OLD FARMS.
As most of the descendants of our early settlers dwell outside the village, and knowing the writer to be a native, who enjoyed some acquaintance with the past generation, they will naturally expect some notice of their occupation.
In rendering this brief tribute to them, and their ancestors, it is unnecessary to make trite observa- tions upon the natural laws of husbandry, nor give a terse dissertation upon the potato rot, and wheat smut ; nor elaborate upon wool, and the breeding of horses and cattle. I would, however, state that an early surveyor-general of the state observes
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" that St. Albans, and one other town, are the two best larming towns in Vermont." And when we pass by the fair fields, and pleasant residences of the Hoits, Seymours, Goodspeads, Whittemores, the Smiths, Ruggs, Prindles, Holiyokes, Potters, the Greens, Herricks, Brighams, Boyingtons, Meigs, Lasells, Collins, and the Tullars. We can exclaim with the Psalmist.
" The little hills rejoice on every side, The pastures are clothed with flocks ;
The valleys, also, are covered over with corn ; They shout for joy, they also sing."
But we can hardly imagine the land has been under cultivation nearly a hundred years. We little realize the hardships their ancestors endured. and the obstacles they encountered at the com- mencement of their farm life. After the forests were laid low, cut down, as it were, by the rod, the land had to be cultivated by inches, amid the stumps, for which there was no remedy, in the form of a modern puller. They had either to wait the ravages of time, or pass them through the or- deal of fire. The implements, with which they toiled, were of the rudest character, for amid the stumps, where oxen could scarcely move and turn, the soil was broken with picks, spades, and bars. Most of our early settlers came hither from New Hampshire and Connecticut, some from Massa-
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chusetts, and Rhode Island. They brought with them habits of industry, integrity, and a high ven- eration for the Christian religion. With these in- herent traits, they soon outnumbered and overbal- anced the gamblers and Sabbath-breakers, that more or less infest all new settlements. The Bible was the sheet-anchor of their hopes, and their guideboard in the voyage of life. For when the rude elements of nature beat through their barken roofs, or wrapped their floors in a winding-sheet of snow, they were not discouraged ; and as the smoke ascended upward from their mud-plastered chimneys, it must have been as pleasing in the sight of heaven, as incense from a golden censer, curling around the pillars of the mercy seat.
The principal crops cultivated in those days were rye, barley, corn, potatoes, turnips, beans, peas, pumpkins, and hops. Wheat was high priced, and not plenty.
Grass was cut, cured, and gathered with the same old implements, that have been in use for three generations in our history, the scythe, the handrake, and pitchfork. It was a fortunate farmer, with a large meadow, who had his hay stored before the equinoctial storm. A day in haying then, extended from sunrise to sunset.
The fourth generation now enjoy smoother fields, with the mowing machine, canopy top, in-
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cluding lunch basket, which needs but one addi- tion to make it perfect, viz .: lanterns on the sides, rendering the cutting of grass in the cool of even- ing, worthy of consideration. We have also large hand and horse-rakes, and patent pitchers.
For grain, it was first the hand sickle, then was introduced the cradle, and now, the modern reap- er and binder. Corn was also cut with a knife, or sickle, husked, and shelled, like beans, by hand. We now have patent huskers, and shellers, as well as planters. Instead of being hoed, like potatoes, we now have the labor-saving cultiva- tors.
Flax was extensively grown, from which, with the wool from a few sheep, the housewife spun and wove all their clothing, sheets, and blankets ; most of whom acquired the art of dyeing, and it was a lucky family that was blessed with a black sheep, as the father and sons had a suit of black, without the labor of coloring.
Butter, for which there was no market at home, nor abroad, was made in an earthen milk pan. beat up with a pudding-stick. Then came in fashion, the hollow log churn, with dasher, follow- ed by one of staves, then of stone ; and later, our more modern churn. But little butter was con- sumed by the family, for a thin slice of cold boil- ed pork, laid on a chunk of rye bread, was much
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more palatable to the early settlers. Those who were so fortunate as to have a cow, kept the milk to nourish the young olive branches, most of whom had their quiver full-blessed without measure.
In these primitive homes, a few plants would generally embellish the window stand of the best room. The quaint old horseshoe geranium, would have the post of honor, flanked on each side, by the unsurpassed red rose, and the rat-tail cactus, while in front, would be the modest ice-plant, and the prickly pear, frequently emblematic of the pair that dwelt within.
In touching upon this subject, it may be well to notice what was outside, and I gladly mention the old well, with its pole and lever, on which hung the bucket, several of which now exist in our town, and would advise the reader, who wishes to see an illustration of the lines of Wood- worth on " The Bucket," to ride by the houses of our friends Boyington and Collins, for there is " The old oaken bucket, The iron-bound bucket,.
The moss-covered bucket Which hung in the well."
And I would also mention the rows, and patches of those good old-fashioned flowers and herbs, that grew around most of those humble log
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cabins. Next to the fence of roots, of rails, or stone wall, would be a row of orthodox holyhocks. Hop vines, creeping with much assurance around a group of long poles, which seemed to express themselves in the vegetable dialect as follows : "We make our own emptings at this house ; they are fast rising and we are going up." There would be a clump of poppies, bowing their sleepy heads in the breeze. Marigolds, winking their jaundiced eyes in the sun. Roses, gathering the dewy gos-
samer of the dawn. A patch of bachelor buttons. reminding the boys, it was not good for man to be alone. Tiger lillies, bright as the gold coin tied up in the old stocking leg. Modest violets, and starry-eyed daisies, blushing almost unseen, while in the rear would stand a stately guard of sun- flowers to beat off malaria. Also, beds of herbs. wormwood, for worms, and bruises, sage, for sau- sages, and headache ; valerian, for sleeplessness : chamomile, for nervousness ; sweet marjoram, for soups ; caraway, for cookies, and lame stomach. These founders of our town, were no ordinary people. The words in Proverbs applied as well to our early housewives, as they do now.
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