USA > Vermont > Rutland County > Wallingford > People of Wallingford, a compilation > Part 16
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25
Some time after the close of the Civil War there was an attempt made to send the freed colored people to the colony in Liberia on the west coast of Africa. It did not succeed much better than a similar attempt had in the early part of the century. However, there were subscription papers circulated to raise funds for that purpose after it had been estimated that $34.00 would pay for the transportation of one person. When one of these subscription papers was presented to Alfred Hull he thought the matter over, and finally put his name down for the whole amount. He noticed that Mr. Israel Munson was down for $17.00. As soon as the solicitor had gone Mr. Hull had a horse hitched to the buggy and drove down to the Munson farm. When he returned he told his wife that he had said to his friend, "Israel, you have agreed to send a nigger half way to Africa. He will be sure to get back here, condemit. I've agreed to send one clear around." It is not to be supposed that Mr. M. was moved by the absurd argument
[199]
PEOPLE OF WALLINGFORD
of the negro's probable return, but he doubled his subscrip- tion doubtless because Alfred had gone to the farm expressly for the purpose of challenging him to match the subscription he himself had made. Both men felt they had been very liberal and spoke about it afterwards when solicited for anything in the way of Foreign Missions.
It was along in the sixties that Mr. Hull began to realize that he was getting to be an old man. In 1866 he sold one of his farms, the one now owned by James Safford which then included the land now occupied by the Boy's Camp and contained 180 acres. Mr. Hull deeded this farm to Homer H. Waldo for $12,000. It re- mained in the Waldo name for about half a century.
In 1870 he sold his West Hill farm of 75 acres to James Mooney, father of the present owner, John Mooney, for $3,- 000.00.
In 1827, Alfred Hull had married Rebecca Freeman Smith, who lived in Guildhall, Essex County, Vermont, where her parents had a farm and kept a tavern on the bank of the Connecticut River. She came to Wallingford fully expecting to begin house- keeping in the house next to the brick schoolhouse, now occupied by Mrs. Porter Benson. It was part of the Hull property then. After a few days in the Hull home, Zephaniah and his wife, espe- cially the latter, strongly urged the young couple to stay with them as they would soon be too old to carry on alone. Alfred liked the idea of living where he always had lived, so that was the way it was settled. All travel was by horse drawn vehicles over none too good roads, nevertheless she brought to her new home a chest of seven drawers (not a highboy) and a cabinet with double doors. These two pieces of furniture stood always in her sleeping room. A good supply of linen and bedding, a gold banded china tea set, and money with which she bought mirrors. She was sandy-haired, blue-eyed, medium sized. A silhouette
[ 200]
ALFRED HULL, 1794-1875
-
-
---
RESIDENCE OF ALFRED HULL, SOMEWHAT ALTERED
-
THE HOME OF THE HULLS
made in her girlhood showed regular features of a distinctly feminine type. She had an iron constitution, a pleasant disposi- tion, a keen sense of humor. She was a joker all her life. She could no more have helped that than she could have changed the color of her eyes. She and a brother two years younger had played all sorts of pranks on each other in their childhood, and when she laid on her bed during the three weeks of hen last illness, there were times when she made her nurses laugh by her droll remarks.
She had been taught by her mother to spin and to weave, to cut out garments and make them, to card wool, spin it into yarn and knit socks and stockings, to prepare wicks and to dip candles -- which were the only artificial light used then-to preserve meat as well as fruit, to make butter and cheese and to cook and keep house.
Now began years of the hardest kind of work. There was no running water in houses anywhere. When she churned in the warm weather she carried the cream in the evening to a spring situated thirty-seven rods east of the house and brought it back in the morning. She worked from sunrise till sunset as most people did in those days, and about once a week by way of catch- ing up on the endless tasks, she worked after every one else had retired, getting into bed about two a.m. and rising at four or five a.m. according to the season of the year. This manner of living had no serious effect on her own health, and it was years after that she realized what it had done to the next generation. Pre-natal care had not yet been thought of. In her old age she said sadly "I guess I killed all my children before they were born-but I didn't know it then."
The first child, and the only son she was ever to bear, died at the age of 10 months. He was named Frederick Smith after her youngest and best loved brother. His small headstone is next to the North gate in the Hull lot in Green Hill Cemetery, and until after the hard winter of 1934 a great white rose bush planted by
[ 201 ]
PEOPLE OF WALLINGFORD
his mother's hands scattered petals over that small grave every June.
The second child was a daughter named Mary Minerva. When tied up in her blanket and weighed on the steelyards, she tipped the beam at a little less than four pounds. Yet from this tiny spark of life does the line (but not the name) go on from Alfred and Rebecca Hull. Minerva, red-haired, blue-eyed, very sweet dis- positioned, grew up a frail but fairly well girl. At twenty-one, she was married to N. T. Sprague, Jr. of Brandon and went there to live. One daughter, Florence, was born to this couple. Minerva Hull Sprague died in her parents' house, at the age of 26 years, of what was then called quick consumption.
The third child, also a daughter, remained on earth only long enough to make an entry in the family Bible.
The fourth and last child was a daughter named Calista. She was married to Arima Smith of Clarendon-at the time that had been set for the wedding. Although she had been stricken with the same malady that had caused her sister's death, she had not given up hope of recovery. She never again wore the beautiful silk wedding-gown, but her mother treasured it as long as she lived. The funeral was held six weeks after the wedding, hence the couplet under her name on the monument,
"She passed away in life's gay bloom From the bridal altar to the tomb"
N. T. Sprague erected the tall white marble shaft under which the two sisters lie.
Florence Sprague married Charles E. Clark of Castleton. There were four children born to this couple, who spent most of their married life in Buffalo, N. Y., where Mrs. Clark still survives. The three daughters of Alfred Hull Clark, surgeon, of that city and the three sons of Charles E. Clark, Jr., comprise the fifth generation.
[ 202 ]
THE HOME OF THE HULLS
Some years after Alfred Hull's marriage-exact date not known-the front part of the house was much enlarged. When it was completed it contained sixteen rooms. On the first floor were the north parlor, south parlor, sitting-room, three bed- rooms, dining room and kitchen combined, the pantry and the wash room. In addition there were two entrance halls with stairs leading to the second floor.
The big kitchen which also served as dining room, the pantry and the wash room deserve special mention. This kitchen was 26 feet long. The west half which opened on to the only piazza served as the dining room. The great chimney was at the east end. The fireplace was bricked up, but the mantel, cupboard at side of chimney, and a very wide hearth made of slabs of limestone, were never removed.
The pantry was 7 x 12 ft. with shelves, drawers and cupboards, two north windows with a broad shelf in front of them that was made of a white maple plank. This was scoured with soft soap and fine sand and was as smooth as glass.
In the wash room a five pail iron kettle was built into an arch connecting with the kitchen chimney. In this room the laundry work for the household was done each week, after the kettle had been filled with soft water pumped from the cistern, a fire built under the kettle and the wooden tubs brought up from the cellar.
Over the archway there was a closed-in winding stairway that led to the hired men's room which had no other entrance.
On the second floor were seven bedrooms, above that a high unfinished attic with one smooth-floored, plastered room at the north end called the wool-room, and used only for storing that commodity.
In the attic hanging from the rafters were different kinds of dried herbs, sage, pennyroyal, thoroughwort, catnip, tansy, spear- mint, peppermint and goldthread-each in separate marked bags.
[203]
1
PEOPLE OF WALLINGFORD
On the floor stood the large wool spinning wheel, the smaller flax wheel and such odds and ends as were stored in every attic.
Under the house were several cellars, deep enough to prevent anything stored there from freezing. These cellars were walled with stones gathered on the farm and set with mortar. Stone walls divided one cellar from another with a heavy wooden door in each wall. On the side wall of one cellar was another door that opened onto stonesteps that led into the north yard. The steps when not in use were covered by folding doors, and were a great convenience in the autumn when all the fruit and vegetables to be stored were brought into the cellars from the outside rather than through the house. The floors were of flagstones or of beaten earth with planks laid down in front of rows of barrels that con- tained corned beef, salt pork, apples and potatoes, and a half barrel of green cucumbers in brine. There were bins filled with roots, carrots, beets and turnips buried in sand, a basket of onions, rows of Hubbard squashes, piles of cabbages. There was always a barrel of cider vinegar and one of soft soap. There were jars of butter and crocks of lard. On swing shelves were jars of plum and of pear preserves, of pound sweet apples preserved with quinces, and jars of boiled cider. From the rafters hung large pieces of dried beef and a ham. The extra supply of hams was left in the smoke house and brought into the cellar when needed.
When these supplies were carried into the cellars they were placed "where they belonged" and there was no need to hunt for anything during the year.
Now we are going out of the front door and around the farm. There were narrow borders of sweet william on each side of the marble walk that ran from the wide limestone door step to the sidewalk. The three ancient maple trees were sizable trees as long ago as anyone now living can remember.
A white picket fence with double gates opening on to the drive- way north of the house, and a small gate opposite the front door
[ 204 ]
1
THE HOME OF THE HULLS
and another one opposite the street door of the ell, ran south to the end of the Hull front yard.
In this south side yard just behind the fence, grew a great apple tree, very tall, with a trunk of unusual thickness. It was supposed to be nearly one hundred years old. It was necessary for a man to go up on a ladder to reach the lowest branches. It was a custom to display a flag there over the sidewalk on the 4th of July. In this yard there were two pear trees, one crabapple tree, and Concord, Delaware and Muscatel grapes, each on a separate trellis. Next to the house there were rose bushes, and peonies, a snowball bush and a row of hollyhocks. Near the south woodshed door and in line with the stone smoke house, still standing, was a watering trough where water ran from a spout into the trough, which emptied into a drain. This watering-trough was never used for animals to drink from, only for cooling milk. From the south kitchen door to the trough was a wide platform made of planks, and two Pearmain apple trees shaded watering trough and plat- form. The house as well as the picket fence was painted white. There were dark green blinds at the windows and also at two doors, the front one and the south one opening into the parlor. There were no screens at either windows or doors.
Now we are going south from this side yard and in behind the property now occupied by Mrs. Porter Benson. Beside the gate grew a syringa bush that still blooms every spring. Here was the clothes yard, the same as now. Along the west wall was an ideal place for the plum trees, east was the kitchen garden, where there was a row of white and of red currant bushes, one of purple and of pale yellow gooseberries, one of rhubarb, an asparagus bed and also a sage bed. In the center were the vegetables.
There was a stile at the south-east corner by which to get over the wall into the orchard. Here were rows and rows of apple trees, Greening, Spitzenberg, Baldwin, Porter, Russet, Pound Sweet, Snow, White and also Blue Pearmain, and one tree of an un-
[ 205 ]
PEOPLE OF WALLINGFORD
known variety; the friendliest tree in the orchard; the branches started low on the trunk and were wide spreading. It was the easi- est tree to climb, afforded the best seat, and bore delicious apples, rich red in color, known only as "greasy skins" from their high polish.
East and south of the orchard were the fields of oats, corn or potatoes, while up the hill ran the acres of pasture land, affording a wonderful view of West Hill in the autumn after the foliage had turned. At the top of the hill there was a pine grove. We will turn and walk toward the north and go down through the pasture. As we reach the sloping meadow land, we go past the never fail- ing spring from which the purest water still runs at Mrs. Cary's house and barns, past the rear of the "little red house" on the side street, past the sheep and horse barn, until we are in the yard north of the long woodshed and the kitchen ell. At the rear of the main house there was a long wide flower bed, where grew lark- spur, sweet William, lilies, dahlias, bleeding heart and colum- bine. This bed was enclosed by a white picket fence to protect it from the hens that wandered about between house and barn. In the spring time there were many chicken coops in this yard, each coop containing one hen and her brood, that ran in and out of the coop. Sometimes a hen would refuse to mother her brood and there was a speckled brown and white hen that was always will- ing to be a step-mother. This hen was rewarded for her kindness to orphan chicks by being allowed to live her natural life, which proved to be seventeen years.
We will re-enter the house by the north entrance hall which led to the dining end of the big kitchen.
In addition to what was called the home lot, there were some acres of wood land east of the village, of meadow land north of the village on the west side of the road, and of pasture high up on the hill north of the village and west of the creek road to Rut-
[ 206 ]
THE HOME OF THE HULLS
land. This extra land was needed to carry on the farming business on a scale pleasing to Mr. Hull.
Any portrayal of life on a farm would be incomplete without mentioning some of the helpers, who by reason of long term of service, excellence of work or some peculiarity, were never for- gotten by the owners.
For many years the town of Wallingford provided for paupers by auctioning them off to the lowest bidder at the annual town meeting. There was one town charge named Nathan Remington. About 1840, Alfred Hull said he would take Nathan for the work he could do. So Nathan went to the Hull home for one year and remained there until he died in 1885. He was a strong, perfectly healthy man who had a strange mental twist, said to have been caused by being jilted by the girl of his choice. He was a good worker, especially good in caring for the oxen, pigs and poultry. He was trustworthy and had an excellent memory. He was a familiar figure on the streets and called by name by most of the residents for very many years. In the Hull home his meals were served at a small table by a window in one corner of the big kitchen. The chair placed there was his place to sit. He could read and used to read the Herald aloud to Nancy Mclaughlin, who did not know the alphabet, but was an excellent worker in the Hull kitchen for nearly twenty years. Whenever Nathan came to a word he could not pronounce he always said "sunthin' or nother" and read on. He survived Mr. Hull by ten years and Mrs. Hull by four months but was cared for in the home. His funeral was held in the Hull home and he was buried at the south end of the Hull lot according to a promise given him by Mrs. Hull. A good-sized marble headstone was put at his grave, bearing his name, date of death and probable age, 80 years.
They lie now within the iron fence, three generations of Hulls
[207 ]
PEOPLE OF WALLINGFORD
and the faithful servant. He had known them all, save the seven- year-old Electa and the baby Frederick.
It was about 1837 that there came to the Hull home a girl of fourteen, a healthy, very intelligent, unusually good looking girl, one of several children of poor and respectable parents. Her name was Sarah Coles. Her wordly possessions consisted of the clothes she was wearing and a bundle too small to contain a sec- ond dress. Mrs. Hull soon supplied the needed garments, and it was arranged that Sarah should work for her board and clothes. There must have been mutual liking between Mrs. Hull and this young girl, for that arrangement lasted for fourteen years.
One first of April morning, Mrs. Hull decided to "fool" the young hired man who had come to work for the Hulls the previ- ous autumn. He was splitting wood in the shed at the rear of the house and she rushed to the shed door and called, "Seymour, go for the doctor quick, Sarah is in a fit." He dropped his axe and started walking along the driveway at the north of the house. She sped through the house and by the time he reached the side- walk, she opened the front door and called, "Seymour, it was nothing but a sleepy fit and Sarah has come out of it." Then Mrs. Hull returned to her work and supposed that Seymour had done the same. A little while after as she and Sarah were working in the kitchen on the south side of the house they saw Dr. John Fox (who lived in the brick house now owned by Mr. A. W. Hawkins) coming toward their house, carrying his medicine chest.
This was probably the only time that Mrs. Hull ever ran away from the consequences of any act of her own, but Dr. Fox was a highly respected physician and many years older than she was, so now she hastily said "Sarah, you tell him how 'twas," then slipped into the pantry and closed the door. So when the Doctor stepped on to the piazza it was Sarah who opened the door and explained
[ 208 ]
THE HOME OF THE HULLS
and apologized, until the Doctor went home amused rather than annoyed.
About 1851, Sarah was married to one Daniel Fish, who "car- ried on" farms wherever he could get one. She went to her new home with a wardrobe that included two silk dresses, and a "set- ting out"' of feather beds, pillows, bedding and household linen. Her place in the Hull family was somewhat unusual. She was not a relative, and had never been a "hired" girl. She came and went through the years as long as there was anyone of the name left. At one time the Fish family occupied the small red house on the side street, with Daniel working on the home farm. They were the tenants on the farm south of the village when Mr. Hull sold it to Homer H. Waldo.
After Daniel Fish died, his widow made her home with a mar- ried daughter in Manchester.
She was an excellent nurse for many years. It was Sarah who helped to care for Mrs. Hull in her last illness. She was remem- bered by both Alfred and Rebecca Hull in their wills.
And there was Eli Moores, a young man when he came to the Hulls. Nowadays he would be spoken of as a case of arrested de- . velopment-then they just said Eli wasn't all there, and let it go at that. He was perfectly healthy, strong and willing, a good farm hand, and some of his sayings became by-words in the family. It was the custom at butchering time for all the men to guess the probable weight of the hog when dressed; Eli happened to guess the exact number of pounds and none of the others came within two or three pounds. When they all praised Eli, he grinned and said "Clude if I was used to guessin, I could come nearer than that." He would have been remembered for his wedding present to Minerva, if for no other reason. Eli's father was a skillful maker of wooden kitchen utensils. When the elder daughter in the Hull home was about to be married, Eli appeared one morning bring- ing a molding board and a rolling pin and announced that he had
[ 209 ]
PEOPLE OF WALLINGFORD
brought a wedding present for Minerva. Mrs. Hull thanked him heartily for bringing such a useful present, Minerva was called and she too expressed her appreciation of Eli's wedding present. They really thought Eli had done a very nice thing until just as he was leaving, he said over his shoulder: "Mis' Hull, sometime when's convenient you may pay my father for 'em." And she did.
When the Civil War broke out, Eli was married and living with his family in the South part of the town. He was drafted but be- fore he went away he came to see Mrs. Hull, and as he was leaving said "Goodbye, Mis' Hull, pro'bly I shall come back again, and pro'bly I shan't." He returned in due time, with a good record, having been a good soldier.
When Eli returned from the war after an absence of more than a year, he found a tiny baby in the cradle that stood in the kitchen. After a number of weeks had passed, he came up to the Hulls to talk things over with Mrs. Hull, and concluded the story of his wife's misdemeanor by saying that he didn't think he should "live with her only until fall." Now if it had been anyone but Eli who had come to her for advice or even if he had come the day he reached home, her answer would undoubtedly have been differ- ent. As it was she obeyed the Biblical injunction to "answer a fool according to his folly" and replied, "Why Eli, you wouldn't let a small thing like that separate you from your wife!" "Yes," agreed Eli, "I know it is a small thing, but . ... I dun'no."
Eli stayed with his wife and there being no more wars, there was never any more domestic trouble.
When Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Hull had grown old-and no one now living knew them before then-the south parlor was used only on special occasions and the north parlor only in the hot weather unless there was company. The rest of the year they sat in the sitting-room where there were one north and three south windows. In this room always stood a butler's desk with the clock on it and books stacked on either side of the clock, a desk chair,
[ 210 ]
THE HOME OF THE HULLS
a drop-leaf table, a corner cupboard with glass doors where the tall silver tea service and the best china were kept, a long hair- cloth covered sofa, two rocking chairs, two or three Hitchcock chairs and a large chunk stove. There was never any floor cover- ing excepting an oilcloth of a cheerful pattern, kept bright by frequent varnishing. These two old people seldom had a cold, never seemed to feel chilly. They were old but not feeble.
Mr. Hull wrote all the letters, both business and personal. He had ceased to use quill pens but there were always some in sight, and as long as he lived, he blotted his letters with fine sand shaken from a wooden sand holder that resembled a pepper shaker. Mrs. Hull sewed or knitted.
During these years, Mr. Hull wore black or dark grey clothes, white shirts with stiffly starched bosom, collar and cuffs, and a black tie. In the summer he wore a buff pique vest and always a heavy gold watch-chain attached to a large hunting case gold watch. The lid on the face of this watch was raised to ascertain the time, and the one on the back was opened each evening in order to wind the watch with a key.
Mrs. Hull's dress was always black or black with a white figure. Her collar was fastened with a brooch and she wore a black lace cap.
It was probably in the late sixties that Mr. Hull went on a busi- ness trip to New York City and was entertained in the home of a Mr. Betts. On his return he told his wife that Mr. B. would be coming to Wallingford soon and would be their guest for a few days. Mr. and Mrs. Hull had always driven about in an open buggy, the only covered vehicle on the premises being a one- horse shay that had not been used since Zephaniah's time. Mrs. Hull had been wishing for a carriage for some time but Mr. Hull really could not see any reason for buying one. In the nineteenth century, the man of the house held the purse strings and when a purchase was contemplated, he seldom asked himself, “Can I
[ 211 ]
-
-
PEOPLE OF WALLINGFORD
afford it?" rather, "Do we need it?" If he could not answer that question in the affirmative he usually decided not to waste his money. Now Mrs. Hull said to her husband, "When Mr. Betts comes, you will want to take him to ride and show him the coun- try round about," and Mr. Hull assented to that. Then she said to him, "I suppose when the time comes you will step to the north entry door and call to Nathan to hitch onto the very best ox cart, and drive around to the front of the house." Perhaps that made Mr. Hull realize the shabbiness of the buggy as never before. Mrs. Hull believed that it did. The carriage was purchased at once and the Hulls enjoyed riding in it for years. In fact, that was what Mr. Hull rode in when he drove his span of bay Morgan horses from his house to Merchants Row in Rutland in less than one hour on his eightieth birthday. A younger man sat on the seat with him and drove back. Mr. Hull was quite proud of the manner in which he had celebrated that birthday and for the first time in years he was pleased to have his real age mentioned.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.