USA > Vermont > Washington County > Waitsfield > History of the town of Waitsfield, Vermont, 1782-1908, with family genealogies > Part 5
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But we must hurry on by the Daniel Witherbee Wilder farm, still occupied by a descendant, and by the Fair Grounds, reached by a short digression up the Fayston Road, until we come to Shepherd's Brook, first called North Brook in 1788. We are now on the old James Heaton farm, later conveyed to Jason Carpenter. In the old house convened the council called to ordain the first minister, Rev. William Salisbury, although the public exercises were held in a booth erected on the Common. Crowell Matthews, a later owner of the farm, built this saw- mill in 1848. It has been called "Green's Mill," but must not be confounded with the original Green's Mill erected many years earlier on Mill Brook. Connected with it was a starch factory, built in 1849 and operated for some years by Deacon Erastus Parker, but now unused. Over on the hill to the north- west is a talc mine, and not far away is the spot where Joseph, eldest son of Jason Carpenter, met his death under a falling tree in 1822.
Another hundred rods through Deacon John Barnard's farm brings us to the Moretown line, where, just in the corner of lot 119, stood the buildings of Dr. Stephen Pierce, although his farm lay mostly on the Moretown side.
It is a mile out of our way to retrace our steps to the bridge, so let us wander down across the meadow and ford the river to the old Samuel Barnard farm now occupied by Hugh M. Car- penter. The old house has given place to more pretentious buildings, and stands some distance back, upon the hillside. It was on this farm that numerous Indian relics were found in 1808-a gun, a copper kettle, and many wampum beads-and from the sugar bush above us Deacon Moses Fisk borrowed the sap kettles of his neighbor, whose Sabbath began at sundown
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on Saturday, in order that he might boil until midnight, and then return the compliment by loaning the kettles to Mr. Barn- ard, who could start the fires at sundown on Sunday without breach of his Sabbath.
Here we turn south again, and follow up the east side of the river. First comes the Rufus Childs farm, cleared by Deacon Moses Fisk, and now owned by Daniel Ralph Bisbee. Just beyond is the home of Ithamar Smith; and in that little red house opposite "Aunt" Charlotte Smith, his sister, maker of straw hats for two generations, lived to the ripe age of ninety- four.
Next comes the house of Salah Smith, first schoolmaster of the town, and a leader in its life for many years; while the low brick house on the edge of the terrace, half a mile to the south, was built by Daniel Taylor around 1830, and purchased a few years later by Hiram Jones, who lived here until Thomas Prentis bought it in the late sixties. Taylor was a very early settler, and his log cabin stood below us in the meadow. Its burning furnished the first tragedy of which we have a record in the town, and we will sit here in the shade of these magnificent maples and listen to the story as told in rhyme by the late Ithamar Smith.
The Burning House.
Unlike a thousand stories new, My story old is strictly true, And suits the poet's page. To snatch it fading, if I can, From dark oblivion is my plan, To last another age.
Who would not listen, thrilled to hear, Of days when hunters shot the deer, Or moose less often seen;
When smoke curled upward from the wood,
Where here and there a cabin stood, And trees were marked between?
When Waitsfield nearly all was wild, And I, an aged man, a child, Then in my seventh year, My father with a hopeful aim,
To mend his humble fortune came From Massachusetts here.
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This land was yet a forest all, This house for wife and children small, Was growing in the trees; 'Twas not when summer smiled in green, For whitened were the mountains seen, And stiffening blew the breeze.
Before us had my uncle come, And in a meadow fixed his home Amid the circling woods; One room that uncle kindly spared Till other rooms might be prepared For us and for our goods.
His dwelling saw Mad River west, And kindred families were blest Beneath his roof of bark; Of little cousins we were nine, Who never dreamed in spirits fine, The future might be dark.
Our happy quiet did not last Till the first Sabbath eve was past, So soon are pleasures fled; The men that evening were away, The children mostly sleeping lay, But I was not in bed.
Some flax in bundles very dry Was o'er an entry lying high, A proof of early days; Not duly heeding cause of fear, My mother passed with candle near, The flax received the blaze.
In vain she tried to stop the fire, She only made it blaze the higher, Her shriek I ne'er forgot; The rapid flames began to pour Bright blazes on the entry floor, And make the entry hot.
Yet through that fiery entry lay The only chance to flee away, Quick, save the children, quick! Just time the mothers had to throw Their sleepers naked on the snow, Through blazes falling thick.
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جج سيجالج ه ــ يجـ
معيودهـ
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HISTORY OF WAITSFIELD.
They count their children o'er and o'er, Lest one was left behind or more, An awful fate to bear; From perils pressing hard and nigh, When would a frightened mother fly, And leave her children there?
Poor Penny met a bitter doom, And Puss within a burning room, The children's chance denied; Snatched up with children blankets four Were saved from flames, and nothing more, Consumed was all beside.
The absent fathers saw the flame, And with some neighbors breathless came To save the house too late; Escaped from fire to keenest cold, Their children naked they behold With mothers in a strait.
But now from shrieks and children's cries, . And fathers struck with sad surprise, To change the scene retire; While fierce and high the dwelling blazed, Some persons o'er the river gazed, Alarmed at such a fire.
"What may that light portentous mean, O'er trees so fearful yonder seen, Awakening solemn thought?" From house to house the tidings flew, And sympathizing neighbors knew Misfortune was our lot.
Off sped the men the worst to learn, The women talked with deep concern, Indulging mournful views; "The children left alone," they said, "Have fired the house above their head, And sad will be the news."
But when my mother weeping came With all her children from the flame, They thought her troubles small; For had one child been left to die In flames around and blazes high, Naught else had pained at all.
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Of house and clothes and goods bereft, In winter's cold we were not left A friendless lot to share ;
Our neighbors near much kindness showed,
And friends at distance soon bestowed
Such things as they could spare.
This tale instruction gives, no doubt, If we will find its moral out, And pay it due regard;
Think, when misfortune gives you pain,
It might be worse and not complain, Or mourn your lot as hard.
If, when a lonely dwelling burns, Its peace to consternation turns, And joy its ruin meets;
What grief must be and deafening cries,
When driven flames o'er cities rise, And sweep along the streets.
Now, descending the hill, we come to the home and farm of Deacon Moses Fisk, and after him of his son, Deacon Lyman Fisk. The latter's cooper shop still stands backed up against the bank on the right while to our left is Spaulding's Brook and, if you please, we will leave the road and follow its course until we reach the high land under Bald Mountain,
A few steps bring us to a beautiful pine grove standing on the bank of the gorge through which the brook comes tumbling along. Here an old log dam bars our passage. The rocky walls have narrowed and rise some thirty-five or forty feet sheer above the water but not more than twelve or fifteen feet apart. Against these ledges, in 1820, Dorrick Smith built the dam of huge logs, piled one above another to the very top, and there they stand today, to all appearances as perfect as when he rolled them into place. Do you see that log about halfway up which was partly cut away to afford entrance to the flume? This was an open trough and from it the water fell upon the old overshot wheel of the sawmill that stood some rods below us. This has now disappeared as also has the tannery that stood below it, where "Uncle Tell" Stoddard plied his trade for many years.
A sharp scramble up the bank brings us above the dam and we find the mill-pond completely filled with rocks and
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HISTORY OF WAITSFIELD.
gravel to the upper level of the barrier. The fishing is not of the best here, but if you are an expert angler and have brought hook and line, a few trout may soon be broiling on the coals to be discussed with the contents of our lunch basket while we revel in the beauty of the big mountains to the west and north.
Over in the pasture to our left, we can trace the old road, discontinued in 1819, that ran up the hill to Abel Spaulding's house, and then through the forest to the road near Amasa Skinner's; but it will pay us to keep to the brook until we have seen the falls, where the water comes leaping down in broken cascades a hundred feet or more. Just above the falls, we will cross the brook into the woods upon the right bank where we can make out the shallow pits that mark the ore beds where iron ore was dug in the early days; then back again into the old road we climb the ledges to the clearing, now fast growing up to forest once more, that marks the farm of Abel Spaulding whose house, erected about 1795, stood near those gnarled apple trees. No one has lived here since he left in 1818 to find a new home in Ohio. And small wonder! The spot is desolate. We have come a mile of hard road from the river settlements and it is nearly another mile through the woods to the farms under the mountains. To the northeast is the Forbush lot (115) and the summit of Little Mount Waitsfield and to the east Bald Mountain stands up before us, the highest land with- in the limits of the town. Its altitude does not compare with Lincoln Range and Camel's Hump but from its summit one may get a view that will repay the trouble of the climb. Fifty years ago a large portion of the mountain was bare of vege- tation, but now its green slopes belie its name. This is not the direction, however, from which to approach the elevation. so we will turn our faces southward and pick our way along a wood road through the dense forest for some three-quarters of a mile until we come out on the east side of lot III, where we will pause a moment upon the ledges to enjoy the view and then turn westward through the pasture to the valley of Pine Brook.
On the plateau above it stands the house built by Jedediah Bushnell in 1840 from timbers sawed by him in the mill, built by Joel Skinner in 1821, that stood below us where the road crosses the brook. Nothing can now be seen of the mill or dam so, instead of following the highway, we will turn across
சதயம்-படிக்கக்
-- - நுவேஷோவும்
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ANCIENT LANDMARKS.
the flat west of the house and find the old pent road that leads down through the woods and pastures to the river road about a hundred rods south of where we left it.
Yonder little white house does not look its age, it having been remodeled; but it was built by Rev. William Salisbury when he settled here in 1801, for this is the Ministry Lot, 112, that was given to the first settled minister in the town. The Dominie tried hard to get the church to pay one-half of his first year's salary of $166.67, in labor to help him clear his farm, but the society refused and Dr. Frederick T. Minor used to tell the story that the boys made a "bee" and cleared the flat across which we have just come. They worked well and the minister, following the custom of the times, made liberal pro- vision of New England rum for their refreshment.
And now we will head for home, crossing Pine Brook into the old Beriah Sherman farm. We are, as you will note, on the old north road that leads from the Common down to the bridge at Rider's. From this point to the Common, there have been some slight changes in the location but they are of no importance and as there are no points of especial interest, we will turn to the right along the road to the river laid out in June, 1855. It leads through the north end of lot 129, the farm first settled by Abram Marsh and sold by him to Shubel Burdick and his father-in-law Capt. John Wells. The present house was built by Russell Lockwood before the road went through, but Burdick's, as we have seen, stood on the other side of the river.
Crossing the bridge we, for the first time, retrace our steps, but it is only for a few rods as the last mile of our journey shall be along the meadow road to the village, surveyed in 1848 and opened in 1852 after considerable litigation.
As we enter the village street, lined on both sides with big maple trees, the first house to demand attention is the low brick dwelling on the right, for we have already spoken of the old Wait house and the school-house. It was built by Dan Richardson, during the "forties" after a large portion of the Wait farm had come into his possession. The square brick structure next beyond was built in 1836 by the Union Meeting- house Society and is now occupied by the local chapter of Odd Fellows who remodeled it in 1903.
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HISTORY OF WAITSFIELD.
Opposite this is the old John Walton house, built in 1838, now occupied by Dr. Henry T. J. Howe, and next to it is the Dr. David Carlisle Joyslin house, built about 1835 by William Morrill Pingree.
Across the street is the Methodist Episcopal meeting-house, a modern structure, built to replace the building erected in 1870, and burned in 1894, while next it stands the house built by James M. Richardson and occupied by Andrew W. Bigelow. The little harness shop on this lot was originally erected on the Common as the saddler's shop of the elder Roderick Richardson. When he removed to the village square this building was moved to a location just across the road from his first store, where it stood until removed to its present site during the "forties." A little way beyond us is the Congregational meeting-house erected in 1874 and next to this the brick dwelling built by Roderick Richardson, jr., in 1834, but which has been for many years the home of Judge Jonathan H. Hastings.
A few steps more and we are at our starting place, but as we pass we note the wooden building next to the brick store which has for many years been the Town Clerk's office, presided over during all that time by Richardson James Gleason, who kept the post-office in the same quarters from 1861 to 1889. In fact Mr. Gleason himself may almost be ranked as one of our landmarks for he has occupied the office of Town Clerk continuously since June, 1855, a term of service that is believed to be unique in the history of Vermont.
The village has no existence separate from the town although in January, 1850, an attempt was made to define the limits of a village under the statutes of the State as follows:
"Situated and lying on the east and west side of Mad River, bounded as follows, viz .: From the supposed centre near Roder- ick Richardson's store, westerly up the river and leading to Warren, to the westerly line of the land where Charles D. Smith now lives, north on the River Road leading to Moretown to Dan Richardson's north line east on the road leading to the Common, to the west end of the high bridge, so-called, south on the road leading to Warren, to the south line of land now owned by Daniel Thayer to be designated by the name of Waitsfield Village."
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CHAPTER V.
ANCIENT LANDMARKS-(continued).
Yesterday we covered the old North District, and today we will turn our faces eastward, taking our start again from the village square.
On the southerly corner stands the hotel. The building was erected by Elisha Foster near the foot of the "Dugway" in Irasville, but in 1851 it was moved by Roderick Richardson to its present site and the brick basement constructed with a view to use by the town. In fact town meetings were held there most of the time for some fifty years. Here William Mc- Allister, John McDermid, J. Monroe Joslin, Richard F. Carleton, William Simonds, Calvin Clinton Richardson, Robert J. Coffey, Francis (France) C. Lamb, Andrew Wheatly Bigelow, H. E. Brewster and others have played boniface.
The adjoining building was erected by Oliver Carlisle Campbell as a shoe-shop, but it has been greatly enlarged, and for more than fifty years has been the headquarters of a general store conducted by three generations of Joneses.
The old bridge at the "Great Eddy" next claims attention. Its predecessor was erected on this spot before 1796, and the present structure was completed in 1833. It is the oldest bridge in town. Near it stood the massive hollowed birch stump with pestle hung on a spring pole that served to crush the grain of such as could not visit the nearest gristmill at Hancock- that is, until our own mill was built in 1793.
Across the river John Walton's blacksmith shop (1838) and house (1848) are next upon the right, while just beyond is the Congregational parsonage. This was once the little red school-house of District No. 7, and until about 1865 stood at the fork of the roads in lot 133.
Next beyond, on the same side of the street, is the brick house where in the "thirties" Lewis Holden kept his store. Here also during the "twenties" was George Frederick Kidder's store, and in it the post-office was established by him when he was appointed post-master in 1822. Across the street is the brick dwelling built by Roderick Richardson, sr., for his son
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HISTORY OF WAITSFIELD.
Dan, and occupied for many years by "Uncle Julie" Dumas and "Colonel" John Stafford Campbell as a tavern. Just east of it stood a two-story brick store built by Roswell Morris and his partner, Amplias Blake, of Chelsea, Vt. Here Jonathan Morse, at one time town clerk, kept his store (1840), and in the late "forties" James T. Phelps was its proprietor. After a time it fell into disuse, was then remodeled into a one story blacksmith shop, and finally removed entirely during the "eighties."
The grist and sawmills just beyond were built by Roderick Richardson, John Stafford Campbell, and Daniel Thayer in 1829 and 1830, and with their canal and bridge were considered no small undertaking in those days.
A hundred years ago the road to the Common left the Roxbury Road at this point, ran easterly through the present mill-yard, and skirted the edge of the terrace above Clay Brook, until it crossed the stream near the present "high bridge." Jonas Holden's house, and probably his fulling-mill, were on this abandoned portion of the road, but as no trace of them is now visible we will keep to the traveled way up the hill to the village cemetery. Upon the open lawn that leads back from the street stood the second Congregational meeting-house, built in 1846, and taken down in 1874. This entire tract was used by Chandler & Mower for a nursery as early as 1801.
Just beyond us, on the other side of the street, is the house occupied for some years by Daniel Thayer, but better known to us as the home of "Uncle" Orvis Jones, whose rare humor, kindly sympathy and quiet benevolence made his name blessed in the community.
A few rods more and we are at the parting of the ways between the old Roxbury Road and the highway leading to the Common. Here for many years stood the little red school-house, which the town voted in 1847 should be the place of town meet- ings "provided it could be obtained for $5 a year." After the consolidation of the district with District No. 6 it fell into disuse and was devoted to other purposes, as we have already noted.
Next comes the high bridge over Clay Brook, which rises up yonder on the slope of "Old Scrag." If you have skill to use a miner's pan you may extract from its sands a few grains of gold, but the reward will hardly compensate you for the pains. John Beaman built the first bridge at this point in 1806; and the town voted to allow him ten dollars on his
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ANCIENT LANDMARKS.
highway taxes for the service. The present bridge was built in 1855, and on its dusty timbers one may still find the advertisements of the merchants posted more than forty years ago.
Near this spot, probably just above the bridge, Benjamin . Wait built a sawmill prior to 1800. It passed successively to William Joiner in 1801, Edmund Rice in 1806, and Lewis Holden in 1807, and within the memory of one or two now living was occupied by Christopher Ormsbee as a hame factory, but this too has disappeared, and only a remnant of its dam may now be seen embedded in the bank.
Crossing the bridge, our road leads up the hill by the house and cabinet-shop of Salmon Rice. Who of the writer's gen- eration does not remember with a kindly feeling this aged man, whose closing years, spent in darkness, were devoted to an attempted solution of perpetual motion? In that little shop under the white birches were made the cradles and the coffins of three generations. Here, too, were made our grandmothers' best bureaus, and their linen chests, and here our grandfathers came to have the broken "fill" repaired.
That road leading to our right and up the brook is perhaps the most beautiful in town, and will repay a visit, although no ancient landmarks may be found along its course. It bears several names, among them "Wolf Road," because in the forest through which it passes, a wolf, the last secured in town, was shot on March 7, 1855.
Time does not serve us today, however, and we will address ourselves to the long hill that stretches on before us. Half- way up we pass the low brick house built by James Joslin, sr., and now occupied by his great-grandsons.
A little farther on, where the road to Palmer Hill turns off to the right, stood the second pound. . The first, constructed of logs in 1800, was erected on the Common near the northerly corner of the burying ground, at a cost of six dollars. It was thirty feet square and seven feet high, and was probably made necessary by a vote of the town in that year declaring that hogs and sheep should not be allowed to run at large from April 5 to November 10. In fact the running at large of animals was made the subject of annual by-laws for many years, and in September, 1836, an attempt was made to establish the limits of a village on the Common under the Act of IS19 "To
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HISTORY OF WAITSFIELD.
Restrain Certain Animals From Running at Large within Vil- lages in this State." The second pound was located at this junction of the road in 1836 and a third was constructed in the westerly corner of the Common at a later date, but fell into disuse many years ago, so that the town annually designates some convenient barn-yard for the purpose.
Now we are at the top of the hill, and can look back down the slope where so many of us have coasted in the clear winter evenings, sometimes gliding as far as the village-more than a mile distant.
This is the edge of the plateau that runs along the base, or, if you prefer, forms a part, of the easterly range of mountains. Our road turns to the east through the old Ezra Jones farm, whose owner was held in the early days to be the best mathe- matician in the town. In his house town meetings were held occasionally, beginning in 1803, until the meeting-house was built. We pass diagonally across lot 106 until at its northeast corner, we reach the Common, second, and for many years, chief center of town life.
At the first meeting, held on March 25, 1794, for the organ- ization of the town, a committee, consisting of Benjamin Wait, James Heaton, Moses Chase, John Barnard and William Joiner, was chosen to "Lay out a Meting Hous Spoat and Other Public Yard." In August, 1795, Samuel Stow Savage, who owned lot 105, agreed to give two acres in its northwest corner for this purpose and the town voted to purchase two more acres from him and six acres from Ezra Jones in the northeast corner of lot 106. It was not until a year later that the Savage land was definitely deeded to the town and not until 1798 that five acres was finally purchased from Mr. Jones. In that year the Common was first "chopped over" and the old cemetery laid out on its westerly side, while during the autumn months, Salah Smith in accordance with his contract with the town, erected the frame of a building designed for a meeting-house and school-house, but destined after the refusal of the town to pay the cost (the only recorded instance of deliberate repudiation of its debts) to be removed to the river road and remodeled into the store owned by Chandler & Mower.
The Common was nearly square and was crossed diagonally by the old North Road and by that on which we have just come. In front of the cemetery stood the old meeting-house
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ANCIENT LANDMARKS.
built in 1807, flanked by horse sheds. Just north of this was the dwelling and shoe-shop of "Uncle Julie" Dumas, purchased by the church in 1835 for a parsonage and now forming one of the outbuildings of the adjoining farm. At the north end of the Common, on the corner of lot 108, stood the store of Roderick Richardson, sr., erected soon after 1806, and occupied by him until 1823, while a bit farther down the road stood his potash works, owned later by his brother, Doctor Frederick, whose house still stands at the westerly corner of the Common.
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