'g^^^gyi'^gg'^^ggis^;'- ■f,if!,-f^j;,-?^/,'fffffAir',^fr^%'fv:\ AINE IN HISTORY fD ROMANCE 'm\ BY MAINE CLUB WOMEN ^. Qass_ Book. E2A MAINE IN HISTORY AND ROMANCE This Edition of MAINE IN History and Romance. published by the Maine Federation of Women's Clubs, is limited to 1,500 copies, of which this is m.^X'J ^tta ^akg (©Bgooh FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE MAINE FEDERATION OF WOMEN'S CLUBS 1892 MAINE IN HISTORY AND ROMANCE BY MEMBERS OF THE MAINE FEDERATION OF WOMEN'S CLUBS "Yours is a beautiful enterprise." —Kate Douilas Wig^in. LEWISTON JOURNAL COMPANY Publishers LEWISTON. MAINE 1915 F 10 M 9 Copyright 1915 By the Maine Federation of Women's Clubs 2. ^ ';>;i To i'aralj Hibeout Abbott President of the Maine Federation of Women's Clubs 1913-15 FOREWORD I am asked to say grace, before this feast of reason and flow of soul. In the writer's request to his Master by Henry Van Dyke is my cautionary grace: "Lord, let me never tell a story without a meaning. Make me respect so much my material that I dare not slight my work. Help me to deal very honestly with words and with people because they are both alive. Give me an ideal that will stand the strain of weaving into human stuff, on the loom of the real, and when that is done, help me to say a grateful Amen." The women of Maine in this same spirit salute you, whose stories grace this book. You have that which cannot be taken from you— a gift sent to you as the golden windows come by reflection from above. Cherish your gifts and refresh us again. We thank you; we prize your work ; and above all, your efforts. One may know only so much as one lives and the day is his at its best when it is full of serenity and rich in work accomplished with high aims. Treasure the ideals ! May faith with understanding keep you and may you so continue, dear friends who have written this charming book, and you, women of Maine who may become its readers, till the twilight comes with its glorious sunset and God's "well done." ^^^-2''^.-fr" *?■ 'More News of Privateering and Rich Cargoes than of Bloodshed' Remains of Fort Castine When George The Third Was King By MRS. HARRY DELBERT SMART EORGE THE THIRD was king and the war of 1812 bub- bled furiously in its crucible. British vessels harried American commerce and the young states endeavored to keep an even score. News of the capture of prize vessels with goodly cargoes gave a general flavor of daring and lawlessness to the Maine coast, and as a result many a merchantman, started with honest planks and a clean purpose, found itself not a priv- ateer, nor with letters of marque, but a full rigged smuggler carrying condemnation in fine linens, costly brocades, silvers and wines of which no accounts were ever entered at the customs house. Great quantities of contraband from Nova Scotia were rumored stored at Eastport waiting word that the Massachusetts coast was clear. Penobscot Bay with its many wooded islands saw strange lights glimmer on the fog of darkest nights and the towering Camden Hills hid many things in their shadows, it was suspected. The bluffs all along the river aided in keeping up the delusion, if delusion it were. Indeed there were people who claimed to have heard the plash from muffled oars, low, harsh voices and grate of keels upon the rocks, and to have seen those tell-tale flashing lights up as far as the head of the tide on the Penobscot and even just below the deep gulch which the Kenduskeag River makes in its east- ern bank between Lover's Leap and the second falls. Below this gulch, half a mile or more. Meadow Brook slipped in sum- mer, only a brown shadow around a bluff half hidden by willows, but a noisy torrent in its springtime rush to the Kenduskeag. Among the log cabins of the early inhabitants of Bangor had begun to appear framed houses of no mean size and the September sun of this unpropitious year, 1813, fell full and mellow upon gorgeous dahlias, stately hollyhocks, everlastings, beds of quiet pansies almost hidden by asters and lilies of many colors which added brightness to almost every home between the two rivers. They grew most abundantly, it would seem, on the bluff arising sharply east of the Kenduskeag where Meadow Brook, flowing south and west in its deep, narrow gorge, outlined the plateau whose top was crowned by a well-built frame house, partly shaded by several fine elms and willows scattered over the grounds. A man in linen homespun came slowly along the high bank of the brook, pausing presently and leaning his coatless shoulders against a con- venient tree. It was a wondrous view that met his gaze from this ele- vation. The wooded banks across the Kenduskeag made deep shadows on its water and beyond these arose yet other bluffs toward the north and west. A short distance up the stream stood a saw-mill, its gates closed, and farther up, another mill sawed its useless product intermittently. 2 Maine in History and Romance West and north the broad Penobscot swept down, gathering to itself the waters of the Kenduskeag, smoothly, easily, without a ripple. The young man turned his broad shoulders just enough to get a view of the fishing boats riding idly below the bridge which spanned the Ken- duskeag. On the bank near the anchorage a store of logs had been built by one James Budge, for "General Mdse." Evidently the trade was not brisk this afternoon for the proprietor of the place lounged upon the plat- form in company with the bearded gossips of the town, smoking in- dolently. Dissipation marked many of these faces ; poverty had laid its finger upon them all. "A year to-day sen Capt. Erskine rode down the river — fair weather and a smart breeze, and he followed the tide — he followed the tide." "Lucky he had a Dave Douglass to leave, though I doubt if the lad has pocketed a shilling of pay for all his work." "How much wheat do you think he's thrashed and ground out at Hammond's mill off that Meadow Brook piece that belonged to Lapish?" "Some say twenty bushels. He's stowed away more corn, oats and hay than most anybody else in this place." "Much good it'll do him with the British comin' up the coast to seize and burn what they can't carry off." "Ha i Brewer's canoe ! She's up early. Camden must ha' had news !" The men rose eagerly, glad of anything to break the benumbing un- certainty. Seeing the demonstration on Mr. Budge's platform, David Douglass picked up a field glass lying on a rustic seat nearby and brought it to bear upon the canoe and the men gathered about it. The same weary waiting on their faces crept into the eyes of the younger man. "What is it, Dave?" The call came peremptorily from Mistress Erskine in the kitchen door. "Nothing, Madam." The glasses fell at his side. "Col. Brewer's canoe is up — no news I guess." The lady came forward with the nervous tread and keen glance of one to whom only personal knowledge is conclusive. The young man placed the glasses in her hand and remained gravely gazing at the woman. White hair lay in soft waves back from a face full of kindness and dignity but bearing marks of anxiety more than due to forty odd years. David spoke presently to call the woman's attention from that fruitless quest. "Do you advise that I begin plowing to-morrow since the grain is housed?" Mrs. Erskine spoke sharply: "I hear there is talk of making us share with those who have raised no crops these two years !" "Did Mary Ann hear that? Of course it's nonsense!" "It seems you've heard it too !" "1 have heard nothing that need trouble you. Madam. Is Miss Pris- cilla fretting on this same head?" When George the Third Was King 3 Mrs. Erskine hesitated, giving the farm hand a keen glance before making a reply. It was a shapely build even with more than six feet two of height, but the heavy curling, light hair and deep blue eyes seemed rather a source of displeasure to the lady. "I think the child had ears for naught and only eyes for the mowing across the brook that day Mistress Preble was in." David flushed hotly. "And you did not like her to see beauty in a field of grain yellow as gold in the sun?" His glance was steady and a whimsical smile traced his lips, "The grain was well enough — and the land is hers." That last hit was keen. "And if I treble its value — " "When the Priscilla comes in — and Capt. Erskine is home, you shall have your wage." The proudly lifted head suddenly drooped and the lips quivered. "It's a long voyage, boy, and our ship may never come. You must sell the corn and pay yourself. It were knavery to deprive a faithful hand of his lawful hire. If there be no corn to spare, we have the silver and linens and silks that were to be dowry for Priscilla. Sell these and you have a fortune." "You would have me vend a king's ransom when there is not money in the town to buy bread. Madam Erskine, you may keep your silks un- less," with a smile of pure daring, "unless the dowered go with the dow- ry. Then, indeed, the debt were mine for life." The woman abruptly entered the house without replying. "Why, Mother !" Priscilla Erskine dropped the thread she was draw- ing and the impulse of the wheel twisted it into an inextricable mass upon the spindle. Her face lost its delicate color "Are they coming — the British? You are crying, Mumsy. But they shall never harm you," wrapping slender arms about the half yielding form of the other, "not while you have me, Dearie." "You are all I have. Prissy — we are two lone women with no one of our own standing to think or care." "Why, Mother ! Are not Gen. Blake and Col. Brewer both pledged to our interests?" "True; but they must leave their own families for they stand with the men in their commands for public defence. Colonel Brewer hourly awaits a call that may deprive every house of its protector. His militia will join Gen. Blake's command. And what are their handful of troops to an armed English squadron acting in conjunction with King George's regulars?" "But they may overlook Bangor, Mumsy, and if they do not we shall only have to go off in the woods and stay until they are gone. Bangor is not rich enough to keep them long busy," the girl laughed, "and if they burn our house they cannot take the land; with that and Dave, Mother — " 4 Maine in History and Romance "Enough said, child ; your father's daughter should — should — Lud ! What's that?" "A messenger from Col. Brewer, Madam." Dave stood in the door- way with the lad who had brought the news. "Word came by express this morning that Fort Mims had fallen to the Creek half bloods, Fran- cis and Weathersford." "Yes — yes !" the messenger broke in excitedly upon David's calm an- nouncement of facts despite his signs for silence. "Four hundred of the garrison killed and left for dogs and buzzards and without a scalp to a crown." "Scalped !" the girl gasped, holding her mother fast, "Scalped !" "The British agent at Pensacola pays five dollars for long hair and baby curls as well as soldier's scalps." David's arms were folded and his voice breathed a bitterness, telling its own tale of the past months when work had kept his hands busy while the call of his country was in his blood. A silence fell upon the room. The afternoon sun gilded the rolls of dust from the flax; the air, balmy as midsummer, slid through the open window without lifting the curtain of fine linen. The brocaded fur- niture had serviceable covers from the loom and this product also pro- tected the costly carpet. Brazil wood cabinets held an abundance of sil- ver fashioned after a gracious vision of the goldsmith's art. A corner of the snowy floor of the room beyond was visible with a huge fireplace and broad hearth. A brass teakettle hung on a crane over a fire of coals. By the cake board at her kitchen window, Mary Ann molded out biscuits for tea while destiny took a like turn in human affairs. An odor of burn- ing wood from distant cuttings drifted in fragrant whiffs over the town; the pioneer spirit but slept, paralyzed for the hour by the dread disaster hovering over the land. The falls of the Kenduskeag mingled musically with other sounds of life outside. "You'll not be going, David — you'll not be leaving us?" The voice was but a breath and the touch on his sleeve was of fairy lightness. "Surely, you'll not be going, David," the musical voice reiterated. The terrible sternness fell out of the man's strong face as he gazed, his eyes circled the room and came back. "I'll not go, Priscilla — though it breaks my heart I'll not leave you till General Blake gets his call. To fail that were dishonor — you'd not ask that of me, Priscilla?" "Never that, David," meeting his eyes unwaveringly with all they were telling — as if the world held but them two — "never that though you leave mother unprotected and it — it breaks my heart, David." Again the days followed each other, level and imeventful; the oxen waded deep in the brown, mellow earth drawing the plow; apples dried in wide, spotless kitchens; a spicy odor of hams smoking over maple chips lingered near farmhouses, for now keen winds whirled gorgeously colored leaves down the valley of the Kenduskeag and beechnuts rattled crisply on the hills. Dh When George the Third Was King "Whrr, whrr, whrr; spin, spin, spin — Winter's coming on, cold is creeping in; Apples in their prime, sheep within the fold, Flax will do for summer time, but wool we spin for cold." The old spinning song floated out many a window on fine days, it reached the brown field beyond Meadow Brook where David patiently followed his bovine team. He stopped a moment to listen. "Whrr, whrr, whrr; spin, spin, spin — " Would that voice ever sing beside his fireside? What right had he to ask it — he, a farm hand, yet it was passing sweet. To-day the earth and air were wondrous fine, there was a full barn on Capt. Erskine's hill, thrift had come to every rood of land he owned if he still lived to hold possession of anything — if not — "The grain is well enough, and the land is hers." It was only a mocking recollection. "Never shall I ask until my acres equal these," he laughed a little, "it were useless to ask. If the Indians had not killed my people it may be Mistress Erskine might have looked with more favor upon the^ son of a well-to-do English landholder, should the story they tell of my parentage be true. Even though my father were an adventurer in this new land, we all look back upon much the same lineage unless it be the savages." The oxen ceased chewing their cuds and retraced their steps again and again over the stubbly field. Weeks slipped into months and the sound of axes rang on the frosty air for firewood could be had without money, the want of which pinched more sharply with the biting wind. Winter swept its white garment over the little town. Was Priscilla Erskine a true prophet and Bangor to be overlooked for greater prizes and peoples? In February of 1814, the town's people "laid away" Capt. Lowder, government courier before the Revolution, sergeant in the French and Indian war, and gunner at Fort Pownell in '76; he was followed by an- other beloved citizen, Capt. Hammond, both full of years. Affairs of the town claimed attention, and the tide of battle flowed back and forth, driving other saddening thoughts from the foreground. Springtime brought little return to the soil among the inhabitants gen- erally, though loafers at "Budge's" store again had opportunity to criti- cise the industry on the "piece owned by Lapish" on Meadow Brook, and yet the canoe ran daily to Camden by Col. Brewer and others told more tales of successful privateering and costly cargoes than of bloodshed. Then another August brought its labors afield in the Penobscot val- ley and the grain was garnered again. One August evening. Mistress Erskine looked with concern upon her farm hand, coated and hat in hand, at the kitchen door. "Where art going, David? and the night so dark." "I was minded to take a stroll. You're not afraid to be left?" 6 Maine in History and Romance Priscilla glanced from the window into the murky night and contin- ued to gaze silently, notwithstanding her certainty that David's eyes were upon herself while his words were apparently addressed to her mother. "Honest men were better to bide in bed than roam such a night," the lady observed sententiously rather than according a reply to the young man's query. David shifted his hat a little uneasily. "Have I your permission to go. Madam?" Perhaps Mistress Erskine was a bit overawed by the coldness in the voice of her usually tractable farm hand for she answered a little un- graciously, "Do as you like, but have a care, David, evil walks abroad under cover of darkness." It was Priscilla who caught the enigmatical expression in David's eyes as the door closed between the two, and it was Priscilla, who, a little wan from lack of sleep through the long night, heard the fumbling at the kitchen door and, softly slipping into a wrap, turned the key to admit a damp, mud-splashed figure which towered above her, a strange excitement in the eyes. The candle flared in her hand. "You — you have not been awake all night ! Why did you lock the door, Priscilla?" "Don't think me spying, David. I felt sure from your look last night — Won't you tell me, David?" "You are a witch, child, and there's nowt to tell. Go to your bed before Mistress Erskine hears us — that would give us plenty of ex- plaining." "But, David — " she pleaded. PVom the foot of the stairs leading to his room, boots in hand, David turned, his eyes shining. "A man tells everything to his wife, Prissy, everything." The girl's eyes fell and the candle slipped from her hand, clattering upon the floor and leaving the two in darkness. "Who's there?" Mistress Erskine's voice called sharply. The girl hastened to reply. "It is I, Mother. I had a headache and wanted some water," both statements were true but she heard David's low laugh and a softly whispered, "Good night — Sapphira." There was no lack of color in the cheek which rested upon her pillow a moment later in the little white draped room opening off that of her mother. By the first of September the if of probability had become certainty. Eastport was under British rule with all the islands of the Passamaquod- dy. Her vessels were seized and three hundred thousand dollars worth of goods from Fredericton and due in Boston by way of Bangor, illicit no doubt, were prize to the captors. The rejoicing over England's defeat in the bombardment of Stoning- ton, Connecticut, and the sorrow for the burning of Washington were alike driven from the people of Bangor by the call to arms. The United States corvette, Adams, after making her teeth and claws felt upon English shipping, had been driven upon the rocks of Isle au When George the Third Was King T Haut, and now, helpless and broken, lay at Crosby's wharf in Hampden; Castine had surrendered after one volley though Lieutenant Lewis spiked his guns and blew up the redoubt before making his retreat close after Lieutenant Little with a detachment of Gen. Blake's militia, and with sev- eral field pieces from the fort. Then came the final word that sixteen English war vessels and nearly four thousand British regulars were to be sent to seize the whole country of the Penobscot. Leaving the excited and terrified loungers at Budge's store, David hastened up the steep hillside to the Erskine house. His lips were a little white when he entered the kitchen where Madam Erskine busily removed from the oven the first pumpkin pies of the season and Priscilla deftly mixed a pretty salad. He hesitated as to the kindest way to break the news. The girl raised her flushed face. "David — Why, David, have they come !" Mistress Erskine glanced from the window. "Nonsense, child — " David's voice interrupted. "They are coming up the river, Belfast is taken, they are after the Adams at Hampden now. Gen. Blake has joined his brigade with Capt. Morris's command and they are fortifying the bluff above Crosby's wharf with guns from the Adams — Capt. Morris will defend his ship to the last. Lewis has arrived with his regulars. Gen. Blake is gathering the Bangor militia — " the rushing impulse of David's voice broke, "I have to go — now." A moment of silence then — "Good-bye !" "Good-bye, lad ! You've been faithful — " Mistress Erskine lifted her apron to her eyes. "They are waiting to march, Priscilla — I have been riding Brewer's horse to summon them." The girl's eyes were wet. "Then it's good-bye, David ! It's hard to say, and we'll miss you — " "How it rains ! and what a gale !" Mistress Erskine closed and bolted the outer door. She came to the hearth shivering, that seeking look in her eyes as it ever was on stormy nights. Many times in imagination had she watched the Priscilla wallowing in heavy seas, had dreamed the schooner slipped from sight in the black water, and awakened to a bit- terer sense of her loss. "It's a terrible morrow we face, I fear, child^ and David gone, with the storm, so heavy and may be your father battling with the waves." The two women sat wrapped in each other's arms in the light of the blazing logs. It was several hours later and the wind no longer piped its wild strain. Gen. Blake's pickets had been dislodged the previous day, the women and children had left Hampden, and all night in the drenching rain, their batteries manned and forces in position. United States regulars 8 Maine in History and Romance and raw militia stood by their guns to guard against a surprise. Capt. Morris had stationed a battery on Crosby's Wharf and another occupied the heights above. Blake had dispatched two companies to watch and annoy the approaching enemy. Between seven and eight o'clock in the morning, these reported the British on the move on land and supported by vessels on the river under Commodore Barrie. Then, out of the dense fog which enveloped the whole region, the British poured and were met by General Blake's artillery fire. Still they came at double quick, sending volleys in rapid succession. This proved too much for the militia whose fire Blake had restrained until the enemy were close at hand, they fled panic-stricken in every di- rection. Flank and rear were exposed, there remained nothing but to sur- render. Capt. Morris ordered Wadsworth to spike the guns and after blowing up the Adams to retreat with his men and accompany Brewer with the remnant of his militia. At nine o'clock the disbanded troops began straggling into Bangor, closely followed by the militia. Leaving a detachment of English regulars to hold Hampden, Colonel John and Commodore Barrie with Major Riddle rode their horses in pursuit of the flying Yankees and were met by flags of truce and requests for terms. "I demand barracks and provisions," was the retort, "and uncondi- tional surrender." On the Erskine bluff Priscilla had been the first to pierce the fog with her glass. "It isn't a battle. Mother," she hesitated uncertainly; "but I can see cannon and warships on the river and — and — men running like boys." "We heard the firing, child, a moment since!" "There's not a sound now," she listened, "and — and the troops are comia;j toward Bangor. They are quite near — Don't you see them with- out the glass?" "Aye, Priscilla, that I do; and Barker has a flag of truce out his store window. Why, that must be Col. Blake and Capt. Morris ! Put up your glass, child, and help me get them breakfast for who knows when they last broke bread." The thoughtful housewife had a full table that morning; David came when the coffee was ready, his face a mixture of disgust and anxiety. His words in reply to Capt. Morris gave that gentleman quite a turn, coming from youthful lips. "You couldn't do any good if you remained, for Barrie and John could wipe you and your men out of existence in short order ; when that work had stirred up their blood against the townspeople, with Barrie's disposi- tion, you know how we should be placed." "I see, sir. You quite comprehend the situation, and I'll be going the minute I have swallowed another cup of coffee." "^ What was Hidden by the Camden Hills What David Saw at the Gulch When George the Third Was King 9 Priscilia poured generously and the cream was rich and yellow. Many long miles lay between Bangor and Portland where the captain was again to assemble his command, so what wonder that it was not until a distant shot sounded from the river that the troops scattered and set off through the woods with Capt. Morris, leaving the militia to forget their taste of powder and guard their homes with wit alone. And now the British came swarming from their vessels and the troops on land arrived from Hampden. Promises had been received that property would be respected but no sooner had these assurances been given than Commodore Barrie showed his willingness that the town be plundered. It was a day of terror and dismay. Stationed at her attic window Priscilia with her glass could see much that transpired. "Why — why!" she gasped to her mother sitting near, "they are rob- bing the stores — Budge's — all of them, and smashing things in the houses. See that chair they are breaking, too, and there goes a dining table crash- ing over Exchange Street Hill — that is the second clothes line they have broken in pieces, and, Mother, that beautiful cabinet of Levett's ! it came from abroad and now it is ruined." "Can you see what they are doing in the street?" David had rushed up the stairs and now exclaimed in dismay : "It's brandy they are serving out in pails ! and I heard Commodore Barrie issue an order that no liquors were to be sold the men — the only decent order he has given, too !" "I think that officer demanded it set out, from what I saw," Priscilia hesitated. "And now there is trouble. Who is that man?" giving David the glasses. "That — that is Commodore Barrie, himself, and he's furious. A score of men are drunk off their feet and more staggering. If this keeps up there won't be a whole roof, or a whole head in Bangor to see another sunrise. "Better not look any longer," David recommended, for the tears were running down Priscilla's face. "Yes, let me ! I'll be good now, really, I will. It is that I am so foolish, besides I'm hungry." "You stay here and I'll bring a lunch," Mistress Erskine advised. Pumpkin pie, some of the best plum cake, sandwiches, and glasses of rich milk were set out on the well dusted attic table, boxes did well for chairs, and the September sun lay as softly on the white hair as the brown and did not miss David's rough mane in its caress. Darkness mellowed by starlight hid the depredations, the terror and the wrecked homes. Out on the river signals flashed from one vessel to another. Presently a rocket arose with a hiss, circled and fell into the water, several more followed, then all was quiet and the enemy slept. Priscilia with her head in her mother's lap dreamed peacefully and at the attic window David held his watch alone. 10 Maine in History and Romance Dawn came, then sunrise, and Priscilla awakened in season to see the first signs of life at the courthouse where many of the troops were quartered, and another long day, glorious with sunshine and breath of autumn, dragged by in the distrait town but the Erskine house remained untouched when late in the afternoon a red blaze on the river told that Bangor's shipping was to be sacrificed, not to greed, but to wantonness. In the light of the dying flames the men and vessels of the invader went down the river. The treaty of 1814 between the two nations left Bangor free to re- turn to its long disturbed pursuits. Then only did David make his mem- orable visit to the customs house. "And you give your word of honor that the cargo which you claim to have knowledge of was stored away in said gulch above Lover's Leap on the Kenduskeag on the night of August 28th-29th, during that night and early morning, and that you recognized none of the men em- ployed on the vessel, or in the boat, and that twelve months have now elapsed and that the cargo is like to be ruined in part if not better housed?" "I do." "And will you here before witnesses declare this and that you will pay the required duties on the same?" "I'll do that gladly, sir." "Then," remarked the officer smiling and with visible eagerness, "let's proceed to the inspection for it is a fine dry day to exhibit your treasure on the top of the hill." "Shall I sell it all?" David asked, glancing from mother to daughter with the smugglers' rich horde between them. "Why, do as you like, boy; it's a noble find, not that I think you don't deserve it and it's not fitting — and the silks are fine as spider's web." "Are they fitting for Priscilla's wedding gown?" The brown head bent quickly to hide blushing cheeks, and there was a silence. "She's all I have now — you may have her, David. I'm going home to help Mary Ann about the supper — " Priscilla's quick lift of lashes caught the glance flung by David after her mother's retreating form, the lashes fell and her lips curved. "Priscilla?" David's voice asked and his shoe planted itself firmly on a rich brocade. "Oh, David, how cruel, I wanted it — " "You wanted it, Priscilla, for — " "Please take your foot awav or there won't be enough not ruined for—" "I'll take my foot away when you say what you want of the silk." "Your wedding coat, David." "And you'll stand beside me when it's worn, Priscilla?" "I'll be proud to do that, David." T3 O o O John Jones, Sometime Tory and Renegade By JESSICA J. HASKELL ^^^wP^ OHN JONES — the very name suggests respectability and solid worth; mediocrity, perhaps, but morality. A villain by the name of John Jones upsets all our preconceived notions of the fitness of things. Yet it was the villain's part that John Jones of Augusta, one-time Hallowell, played in the eyes of his neighbors in the soul-trying days of the Revo- lutionary war. Dark and gloomy enough was life in the little town on the Kennebec, a veritable tragedy of sorrow and suffering; but a tragedy lightened here and there by flashes of comedy — furnished by one John Jones. In happier days, John had been a respected citizen andi an office- holder; a man who made firm friends, some of whom clung to him through all his later trials and difficulties. He was originally from Con- cord, that hot-bed of Revolutionary feeling, a fact which makes his Tory proclivities seem all the stranger. He had been educated for a surveyor, and at the age of twenty-eight was in the employ of the Plymouth Com- pany. He seems to have been liked and trusted by the company, and he certainly did good work for them. He was soon principal surveyor, and was sent to the Kennebec in charge of the work of plotting out town- ships in the wild lands along its shores. We know that in 1771 he made charts and plans for Pondtown, now Winthrop, and also for Hallowell; and in 1772 surveyed the region east of the Sheepscot river. In 1773, he was in Canaan; in 1774, he surveyed Vassalborough ; the land which constitutes the present town of L'^nity, then Twelve Mile Pond; and the region including the China of to-day, thea known under the plebeian name of Jones' Plantation. And surveying in the wilderness, with the ever present danger from wild beasts and from the prowling Indian, required resourcefulness and a ready courage. What Jones saw of the Kennebec must have appealed to him, for we find him not long after snugly settled on Jonathan Bowman's Lot Num- ber 10, in old Hallowell, the modern Augusta. He built a house upon this land, and erected a saw-mill on Bond Brook, which flowed by his door. This mill played an important part in the community life, since much of the wealth of the little town lay in its abundant supply of lumber. Indeed, pine boards took the place of currency in more than one instance. In 1780, the town voted to pay each "Continental" two and one-half thousand feet of pine boards a month, in addition to state and national bounty. PVom old account books and incidental references in town rec- 12 Maine in History and Romance ords, we gather that Jones' first year in Augusta was a peaceful and fairly prosperous one. With the year 1774, however, whig feeling ran high, and life for a loyalist as outspoken as Jones began to be difficult. Not only his speech, but his choice of friends was most unwise for one in his position. Among these friends was the Rev. Jacob Bailey of Pownalborough, whose stubborn Toryism and intemperate speech had alienated most of his parishioners. In 1773, Mr. Bailey, on a journey to Boston, had been mobbed and roughly handled ; and on his return to the Kennebec, fell into worse difficulties. A hundred armed men, thirsting for his blood, sought to lay hands on the unhappy man. By good fortune he escaped and hid himself from the first violence of their fury. In October, 1774, he was mobbed again at Brunswick, and in the excitement following the Boston Tea Party was, for a time, in serious danger. Such a man was hardly a helpful friend to one in Jones' difficult position. John himself did escape the effects of whig fury. At midnight on the Sunday following these disturbances, a hundred and fifty armed men broke into the house of Mr. William Gardiner, and after wreaking their vengeance upon his possessions, sought and found the unlucky Jones, who had so unwisely identified himself with the unpopular Tory leaders. Their purpose was to compel him to sign the covenant. Jones must cer- tainly have had the courage of his convictions. It can hardly be easy to refuse the request of a hundred and fifty infuriated men, more especially when that request is backed up by an array of deadly weapons, any one of which may bring one's earthly life to a sudden and disconcerting end. Along with his courage, he must also have had a sense of dramatic val- ues, for he certainly "played to the gallery" in his defiance of the mob. In the words of his friend, Mr. Bailey, they "insisted that he should sign the covenant, when he stripped open his bosom and told them they might stab him to the heart, but nothing should induce him to sign that 'accursed instrument.' " He escaped the stabbing that he so recklessly invited, only to fall victim to a more ignominious fate. He was seized and dragged away to the river, into whose icy waters he was ruthlessly thrown. Whether he maintained his dramatic composure under such rough hand- ling, history does not say. He was dragged about in the river until he was, to quote Mr. Bailey again, "almost torn in pieces." Our respect for him is increased by the fact that neither the icy bath nor the prolonged torture made him yield to the demands of his tormentors. In spite of this unpleasant episode, in 1775, Jones could not have entirely forfeited the friendship and trust of his neighbors, for at the annual town meeting held that year at Fort Western he was chosen con- stable. The indignant whig element objected vigorously to this choice and, in the words of the old record, "reconsidered the constable vote" and "purged the town meeting." But these vigorous measures failed of ef- fect, and John Jones was chosen constable again. His victory was. how- ever, a barren one, a salve to his feelings, perhaps, and a satisfaction to John Jones, Sometime Tory and Renegade 13 his friends; but a source of trouble and annoyance to himself. A con- stable's path was none too easy, even in the days of our sober Puritan ancestors, and when that constable had already been mobbed and ducked as a Tory sympathizer, his way could not but be still thornier. The town records are silent upon the subject of John's difficulties, but difficulties he must have had; for a month later we find that he had hired one Jonas Clark, a son of Deacon Pease Clark and a man acceptable to both fac- tions, to be constable in his stead. It seems quite unlike John's previous record to consider discretion as any part of valor, but perhaps that cold plunge had taught him a much-needed lesson. The town must have con- sidered this substitution of Jonas Clark a desirable expedient to put an end to an uncomfortable situation, for they promptly voted to accept him as constable "in the room of Jones." In rather sharp contrast to this dispute over the constableship came that year a striking political honor to Jones. He was chosen a member of a committee of five, one of whom was to be the town's delegate to a Revolutionary meeting in Falmouth. His fellow members on the com- mittee were James Howard, James Cocks, William Howard and Pease Clark. Odd company and odder business for an avowed Tory who had stubbornly refused to sign the covenant. Which one of the five really attended the meeting, we do not know — surely not Jones. In spite of his undoubted bravery, he would hardly have cared to present himself volun- tarily in Falmouth, a town seething with what to his Tory mind was sedi- tion; and still less would he have risked attendance upon a meeting where feeling was certain to run high. For a time the records are again silent upon the subject of John Jones; but in view of later revelations, he must have been pursuing his way in cheerful defiance of his whig neighbors, and with no attempt to keep his treasonable opinions to himself. In the warrant for the town meeting called at Fort Western, July 17, 1777, we find the clause: "To proceed agreeably to an act of the state, entitled an act to secure this and the other United States against the danger to which they are exposed by the internal enemies thereof." The humble object of all this imposing verbiage was plain John Jones, who had failed to check his unruly tongue. There was lively argument in the little assembly in Fort Western; and finally Lieutenant John Shaw, whose military record and whig prin- ciples placed him above suspicion, was appointed "to procure and lay be- fore the court evidence against John Jones of Hallowell, whose name was exhibited to the town, and whom they suppose to be of a disposition in- imical to the liberties and privileges of said states." A thankless task for Lieutenant John, but one which he appears to have attended to with commendable dispatch; for he immediately presented the case to the Court of Sessions of the Peace, a county court with criminal jurisdiction, then in session at Pownalborough. Jones attempted a stay of the proceedings against him, and sent in a 14 Maine in History and Romance petition signed by fifteen of the town's people, asking the selectmen to call a town meeting to reconsider the vote of "inimical." The warrant was at once issued, and another meeting held in the old fort to consider the sins of John Jones. In spite of his hopes and the best efforts of his friends, the town reiterated most emphatically its opinion of the man; the meeting, not content with refusing to reconsider the previous vote, calmly proceeded to vote "said John Jones inimical" again. Warned by the attitude of the people, John fled before the coming storm. It is said that he found shelter for the night at the home of James Winslow, a "half-Quaker friend," who sympathized with him to a certain extent. Winslow's house was on the east side of the river, at a safe distance be- low the town. The next day friends helped the fugitive down the river to temporary safety. Not long after, his lack of caution betrayed him again, and he was taken and brought before the Court of General Sessions, which convened September 30. Two of the nine justices of this court, James Howard of Hallowell and Joseph North of Cobbossee, were neighbors and one-time friends of the accused, a circumstance which, considering the inflamed feeling of the time, hardly counted in his favor. In the records of the sessions at Wiscasset we find the indictment, which reads as follows: An attempt "to hurt and destroy the credit of the public bills of the United States of America and of the State by speaking in the hearing of divers subjects of the State, of and concerning said bills, as follows: 'Damn the trash;' T had rather have half the sum in silver;' 'Curse the Continental bills;' T wish they were in hell;' 'There is no value in it.'" Such lan- guage is, perhaps, surprising in a man of whom the Rev. Mr. Bailey had so high an opinion; but hardly seems to constitute a very serious offence against the State. One wonders what effect was produced upon the grave and dignified judges of the Court of Sessions when this indictment was read. Were they obliged to hide a hasty smile, or did partisan feel- ing blind them to the comic juxtaposition of the solemn legal phrasing of the accusation, and the crisp, irritable profanity of the badgered John Jones? Ivuck was on John's side, however, for because of some infor- mality in the indictment, the case had to be dropped ; its only tangible re- sult a bill for the county treasurer, most reluctantly paid. John's immunity was but temporary; at the next session of the court, October 17, he was compelled to appear again. Yet fate was plainly reserving him for other things; for on the new jury were John Patten, his brother and son, Tories at heart. So obstinate were they in the case of the first man tried, a Mr. Ballard of Vassalborough, that they held up the rest of the jury twenty-two hours, compelling them at the end of that time to appeal to the justices again for instructions. Even after the rather sharp admonition of the court, they failed to agree, and the session was again adjourned until November 4. On that date the jury did not appear, and another adjournment, this time until December 16, John Jones, Sometime Tory and Renegade 15 was necessary. The witnesses, including the seven called in the case of our friend Jones, were bound over to this meeting for the sum of five pounds. These witnesses were Samuel Bullen, George Brown, John Rob- bins, L. Costigan, Oliver Wood, John Carlow and Ezekiel Chase, come, doubtless, prepared to demonstrate to the court the unparalleled infamy of John Jones in swearing at the Continental bills. John himself had to give bail for one hundred pounds "to answer the accusation of the town of Hallowell against him for being inimically disposed towards this and the other United States." When the December court convened, John's luck still held. Justice Howard, coming from Fort Western to Pownalborough, "encountered a terrible fall on the ice, which prevented his attendance." A hasty search could produce no other justice of the quorum to take his place, and the court was compelled to adjourn yet again, with the terrible John Jones still unpunished. The "transportation act" under which he and the other Tories had been apprehended, expired in January; so, having no statute under which Jones could be held, the authorities were reluctantly com- pelled to let him go. Jones seems to have decided that the shores of the Kennebec hardly offered a desirable residence for him, for he immediately left the scene of his many humiliations, and found his way to Boston, where for a short time he lived in comparative safety. In September of that year, under a law confiscating the estates of the "absentees," Jones' house and mill on Bond Brook were seized. Shortly afterwards, house, mill and land were assigned to one Ephraim Ballard, a new comer in the town. Apparently John Jones could not keep silent long; for we soon hear of him as imprisoned in Boston. Luck, or friends, or a combination of both, again came to his aid; for our next news is that he has succeeded in escaping from confinement, and has left Boston behind him. An ac- count of that escape would be interesting, but, unfortunately, the Rev. Mr. Bailey, whose letters are the chief source of information concerning this period of Jones' life, only refers to it incidentally. In spite of his undeniable propensity for getting into scrapes, Jones might well have been termed "Lucky" Jones; for if he tumbled easily into trouble, he slid equally easily out. By various stages, our knowledge of which is very meagre, Jones worked his way to Canada, where the atmosphere was much more sympa- thetic. Once in safety and in congenial company, one might almost have thought that even the restless Jones would remain quiescent, for a time, at least, but not so. He throve upon danger and courted risks. He kept up a correspondence with the Rev. Mr. Bailey, who, writing to him February 8, 1780, declared that he was looking forward to the "pleasing prospect of again meeting on the banks of the Kennebec, and of having the pleasure of regarding with contempt those sons of rapine and violence who drove us from our peaceful habitations, and forced us into 16 Maine in History and Romance the ocean, to contend with rocks, currents, whirlpools, storms and hurri- canes." True it is indeed that politics makes strange bed-fellows. The minister's scholarly, if pompous, diction contrasts oddly with the rather coarse bluntness of John's gloating epistles. Jones had sent his wife to his people in Concord, and writing to her at this time, Mr. Bailey says: ''I have just received a packet from your consort, Mr. Jones. After passing through a variety of scenes, he ar- rived at Lake Champlain, and afterwards, by several removes, reached Quebec." Apparently Jones had gone to Halifax, and had bestirred himself to gain opportunity for active service for his king, and, incidentally, for vengeance upon his old neighbors. The Rev. Mr. Bailey, in a letter writ- ten April i8, 1780, to a friend in that city, says: "I take the opportunity to recommend to your favor Captain Jones; he is appointed to the com- mand of a company of Rogers' battalion. I am persuaded that his active and enterprising genius will be of great service in the department to which he belongs." And to another friend he writes: "I send you this by our friend, Jones, who is engaged to chastise the rebels; you must be persuaded that no man is better fitted for the service, both in point of knowledge and resolution." Jones was clearly in frequent communication with his harassed and persecuted clerical friend, for the Rev. Mr. Bailey in another letter says, "We were happily surprised last week with the company of Capt. Jones, one of our Kennebec neighbors, who escaped from close imprisonment in Boston last spring. After passing through a variety of scenes, he was fortunate enough to reach Quebec, where, meeting with the famous Col. Rogers, he is engaged in the army, and intends to visit his country by the way of Penobscot. His capacity is equal to his undertaking." Bailey was right in both his premises and his conclusion. Jones did visit his country, and his visit was a signal triumph for him and a deep humiliation for those who had once brought his pride so low. At that time the British post at Bagaduce under the name of Fort George was a refuge for the disaffected of the province, and a base from which harassing raids were made upon the neighboring towns. The combination appealed irresistibly to John Jones, and he left the too peaceful Canada for Bagaduce and vengeance. Unlimited opportunities for mischief offered themselves to his nimble spirit; and he certainly dis- tinguished himself in the species of petty warfare in which he engaged, and proved that the Rev. Mr. Bailey's high opinion of his capacity was not without justification. On one of his many forays to the Kennebec, he boldly cut out a schooner and brought her safely to the Penobscot. Many smaller craft fell victim to his skill. The boldness of his feats and their success com- pelled the unwilling admiration of his enemies. His command, the John Jones, Sometime Tory and Renegade 17 Jones Rangers, was known and dreaded throughout all the region be- tween the two rivers. But his sweetest revenge, and, incidentally, his most startling ex- ploit came in the early summer, no less a deed than the capture of Col. Charles Cushing under circumstances which covered that worthy gentle- man with ridicule. This feat can be no better told than in the words of the victorious Jones himself. In a letter written from Fort George, dated Sept. 4, 1780, he says : "I have had two trips to the Kennebec, one by land, the other in a whaleboat. First by land : I went up and down till I found where to strike. Thought it best to bring Cushing off. The way I proceeded was as follows: I surrounded his house in the morning very early, sent two men to rap at the door. On his crying out, 'Who is there?' I answered, 'A friend.' 'A friend to whom?' I an- swered, 'To the Congress, and we are from George's river with an ex- press, for the enemy has landed fifteen hundred troops and three sloops.' He jumped up and came down with his breeches on, lit a candle and opened the door. We immediately seized him. On his making some noise, his wife came running down stairs, but soon returned, and put her head out of the chamber window, and halloed murder. I told her that if she did not hold her tongue, my Indians would scalp her. Away we hauled him into a boat we had prepared ; and up the river, about a mile above Gardinerston, landed him and gave him a pair of shoes and stock- ings, and marched him to Fort George, across the woods, in four days. The whole country was alarmed, and was about six hours after us." One may imagine that early morning scene, the frightened, hysteri- cal wife, the half-dressed, wholly humiliated colonel, and the gleeful, grinning Jones. And that four days' forced march through the woods with his triumphant captors ! A fine revenge had John for all his humiliations of bygone days. This bold raid, as may be supposed, attracted much attention. The "Boston Gazette" of July 24, 1780, says: "We hear from Pownal- borough that about Ten Days ago a Party of Tories surrounded the home of Cushing, Esq., High Sheriff of the County of Lincoln, in the night, took him out of his bed, and carried him off to the Enemy." The writer of this note appears to have a sly relish of the joke on the honorable High Sheriff and Colonel, in spite of the advantage gained by the enemy. Jones' Rangers terrorized the region of the Kennebec for sume time, vindictiveness doubtless acting as a spur to loyalty. Jones himself said of the situation : "Bowman keeps a guard every night, and all the peo- ple are much frightened. Many of our friends have been threatened, but no one is touched or hurt, for great is their fear. Many of the in- habitants don't cut their meadow." With the surrender of Cornwallis, the military career of John Jones came to an end, and we find him at St. Andrews, reverting to his old J- 8 Maine in History and Romance profession of surveyor, and endeavoring, with some other loyaHsts, to obtain a grant of the island of Grand Menan, in New Brunswick. Mr. Bailey, who always tried to further Jones' interests, wrote to Governor Wentworth of this project: "I would beg leave to present to your notice Mr. Jones, an honest, Vv^orthy loyalist, who has lost an ample es- tate for his attachment to His Majesty and the British government. He is endeavoring to obtain a grant of Grand Menan, and is desirous of ob- taining your interest and that of Governor Fanning. I can assure you that there is not a person of my acquaintance better calculated to im- prove a wilderness country than Mr. Jones. He was formerly principal surveyor to the Plymouth Company, and has made several fine settle- ments on the Kennebec before the commencement of the late commo- tion." "Late commotion" was certainly a tactful way of expressing the events from Lexington to the surrender of Cornwallis when one's corre- spondent was a royalist governor. Jones and his associates surveyed the land and commenced a settlement, but failed to fulfill all of the con- ditions imposed upon them, and lost their grant. Even in such apparently peaceful employment as the survey of Grand Menan, Jones" genius for getting into trouble did not desert him. While actually at work laying out lands, he was captured by a party of Indians under the leadership of one Allen, whom the old account calls a "notorious rebel." But neither had his facility in slipping out of a diffi- cult situation deserted him. The second day of his captivity, he man- aged to escape and return to his work. Some account of the appearance of this man of so many adventures has come down to us. He was rather short and slight, quick and lithe of limb, dark to swarthiness, so dark that he was given the nickname of "Black" Jones, as much for his physical as for his moral characteristics. Flippant and profane of speech, irritable of temper, outspoken, obstinate, brave, resourceful and resolute, he made warm friends as well as bitter enemies. One would like to leave his history with his dramatic escape from his Indian captors, but truth compels us to record that a few years later he came quietly back to Augusta, where he was ill received at first, then tolerated, and finally accepted. He returned to his work of surveying, in which he must have been skilled, for in 1797, he was employed by the Proprietors of the Kennebec purchase. He lived to a ripe old age; his last days as quiet and peaceful as his earlier years had been stormy. Thus passed "Black" Jones, "the incorrigible and dauntless Tory of old Fort Western in primitive Augusta." Tale of a Forty-Niner By EVA L. MOODY HE "Almighty Dollar" has indeed a most enticing way with it. The love of gold, we are assured, has caused more sorrow, more heartache, more sin to be committed, than _ ., almost any other one thing in the world. Filthy lucre, 5ii:=r=:::^^l pelf, or whatever you may choose to term the form of gain, all are seeking in one way or another. It is the all necessary, the mighty dollar, which makes the "wheels go round." The world would seem strange indeed without the continuous barter for this thing or that. Homes are established; fires on the family altars kept burning. Bread to feed the hungry; schools, libraries, hospitals; homes for the blind, for the old, for the friendless; homes for the weak; homes for the strong; yes, jails, — each and all are supplied and sustained by the accumulation of the oft-mentioned "Almighty Dollar." All our public institutions, national and local, are dependent on the oft-times misused mighty dollar. Who are they who furnish these dol- lars? Who were they who in the ages past foresaw the need of gold, much gold, to support and sustain all these things, the things with which we of this day and generation are surfeited, we who know not struggles and hardships of our forbears in securing the means for the great possi- bilities and privileges which the world to-day so much enjoys or abuses as the case may be. I feel that the '49-er of whom I write must have had only the ambition of gaining gold to establish a home with "the girl he left behind him" and all that home might mean to the locality in which he might see fit to settle. He says : "I would not have you think that money is all I live for, no, far from it, but I view it as one great thing to enable us to live for something more noble." If to brave the sea with all its moods, sufter privation of home, friends and comfort, for the mere love of the glittering ore had been the one object of his quest, I think he would have never sailed into the West or through the "golden gate." The gold fever seemed hard to combat, the excitement ran high — if there was a pot of gold at the foot of the rainbov^?, this ambitious and willing-to-work young man wished to secure his share. z\nd so, amid the tears and regrets of loved ones he set forth on that, to be, terrible journey and bitter and lonesome four years' experience, together with many others seeking the same goal, each with the same thought — accumulation of golden treasure. On October 4th, 1849, our hero left Winthrop expecting to sail 20 Maine in History and Romance on the 6th from Portland on the brig "Margaret," one Brazier by name, captain of the ship. The wind and weather were not favorable until the I2th, then he sailed away from all that one holds dear — parents, brothers, sisters and friends, sailed and sailed for seven long months. For seven long months it was a continuous round of stormy seas, homesickness, and discomfort, yet he would not have lost the experience. I would that I might quote verbatim of the days and weeks of monotony, the anxiety regarding the safety of the ship and all on board, of the continual thought of home and friends, no possible communication available unless by chance a ship bound to the States was encountered; then he sent letters home. How many sad hours none can tell, but in reading these old letters I find the idea of fabulous wealth from the gain of gold was a far subject. This young man, tho uneducated, with a lim- ited knowledge of books in general and what they might contain, enjoyed exceedingly to write and to pass the time on the high seas, he transferred his thoughts to paper oftentimes in rhyme, as extracts from a descriptive letter prove: * * * Could I the future veil have raised. And on my present lot have gazed, I should have shrunk from it, I ween And now at home I think, be seen I never should have found myself In such a place, for hope or pelf, If I had known the ills and woe That I have here to undergo. Away from friends, away from home I journey on, thro' ways unknown. Tho with a score I mingle here The way seems dark, the journey drear. * * * Gold is the thing which now I seek Yet, worship not at mammon's feet. * * * I left my native land and home And o'er broad ocean I did roam. Breasted the southern heat and cold To hie me to a land of gold — So breasted I old Neptune's wave To yellow dust to be a slave. It's told, that in the promised land There is naught else but golden sand. On strength of this I took my way To foreign lands, awhile to stay." Tale of a Forty -Niner 21 Two days out after leaving Portland, on the 12th day of October, the vessel was endangered by a gale which nearly drove it onto Georgia shoals. The gale, or head wind, lasted twenty-four days and there was much worry and excitement. Rather a discouraging outlook at the be- ginning of a journey to the other side of the continent, but after the northeast trade wind took them, a smooth passage to Rio Janeiro was really enjoyed. The first land sighted was Cape Frio, South America, with most beautiful scenery along the coast to Rio Janeiro, where they ar- rived on the evening of the 22d of December, makingi the passage in seventy-two days from Portland. Altho Rio Janeiro to the writer presented much that was pleasing and more to disgust, it was a beautiful country. Fruits of all kinds were to be found and every kind of vegetable ever seen or heard of. The harbor is described as being large and one of the safest in the world, eighty miles in circumference and bounded the city on two sides, was one mile wide at its entrance, so no danger of a sea breeze doing damage to shipping. "There is a large rock, known as the Sugar Loaf, 500 feet high on the left as you enter the harbor. It stands where the waters eternally lash its base and is a curiosity to every eye that beholds it." The city numbered 200,000, including slaves who composed two- thirds of the whole population. Here again a bit of rhyme: "From harbor, Rio may be seen Richly clothed in foliage green. The lofty buildings towering high Are seen with joy by stranger eye. But, when approached so that you can The workmanship minutely scan, They do appear uncouth enough Of ancient date, coarse, homely, rough. They all are made of earth and stone, Roofs are covered with tile alone. The walls are plastered o'er with lime From distance looks like marble fine. It is a miserable place indeed. The black folks have the whites to feed. Every dollar the white man saves Is earned by labor of his slaves. The whites, Portuguese mostly, by the way In sports and gaming spend the day. I saw, while walking here the street, A female slave most sadly beat. I saw enough of weal and woe And learned all that I wished to know Of slavery and its thousand ills Which at this time my warm heart chills." 22 Maine in History and Romance There were many people in the city at this time from the 300 vessels lying at anchor in the harbor. A delegation of the boldest marched into the Palace in spite of the guard and staid as long as they wished. Their forts were simply laid up of gravel and cement and but one broadside of a "man-of-war" would ruin the place in spite of all their military power. There were no wharves, everything was carried to and from the vessels in small boats, and carried to these small boats and over the city on the heads or backs of slaves either male or female. The Brig left Rio on the 29th of December, '49, and from that time on until Cape Horn was rounded, the voyage was a wild and rough ex- perience, gales, squalls, head winds, thunder storms and hurricanes and all other kinds of weather "beat upon that little ship so frail" but she weathered the elements, climbed every big roller and came out conqueror. "In this awful trying hour Stouter hearts than mine did cower. Hearts which till now were hard as steel In this hour did keenly feel. When hushed the wind and calm the sea, I thanked my God, and felt, that he Alone governed wind and wave And saved me from a watery grave. * * * I should at home some time remain Ere I should come this way again. I'd not again here trust myself For all California's boasted wealth. ♦ * * From time we doubled old Cape Horn, We saw not one severe storm I of the ocean lost all fear. The weather proved so fine and clear." The reference in rhyme to coming the other way is meant, if the trip was to be taken again, it would be taken across the Isthmus of Pan- ama. These extracts were taken from a long letter in rhyme written to an older brother left at home with a strong desire to follow the writer if all should prove as expected and I record with regret that this brother went to California in 1S50, leaving a wife and little daughter in Mon- mouth. After some over a year's stay he became restless and homesick and at last decided to return to Maine and induce his wife to accompany him back to California. He communicated his intentions to the wife, she, thinking the trip unnecessary and of needless expense, resolved to take the journey with friends who were about to start and surprise him in that far away land. Fate deemed the meeting never to be. The brother went on, passing the wife and little daughter somewhere on the high seas. He Tale of a Forty -Niner 23 contracted the fever on the Isthmus and died in Boston. The wife and mother reached San Francisco only to find her husband gone in search of her. It was some months ere the news reached them in California of the death of the beloved husband, father and brother. But to return to the journey. Cape Horn was doubled about the 20th day of February, 1850, after being buffeted and blown about for some three weeks. Valparaiso was reached on the 15th of March, 1850, sev- enty-six days after leaving Rio Janeiro. Valparaiso numbered about 75)" 000 inhabitants but no slaves. Was very mountainous around the city and perfectly barren for miles around, more fertile back in the country and every kind of food the heart could wish was raised and brought to town by pack mules — so very rough, carriages not of much use. There were no wharves whatever, harbor small and very unsafe. Their houses were built of unburned clay, held together with straw and without chimneys. 'The streets are narrow, rough and crooked And houses mean, where're I looked. They have no chimneys here at all But cook outdoors from spring to fall. The mountains here are high and steep, The valleys are not wide but deep; And not a flower nor shrub, nor tree. By mount or valley here you see. But barren all as desert wild Around the town for many a mile." The 25th of March found the Brig Margaret once more on the high seas en route for San Francisco. A fine run was made to the line with help of the Southeast trade wind, then the Northeast trade was taken which lasted into San Francisco harbor. The company on board, with few exceptions, was not all that could be desired. Thirty-eight people all told and of all characters. Among the passengers were some very good singers and as the '4Q-er of whom I write and from whose letters I quote, was a natural singer as well as a lover of all music in general, much enjoyment was had in what were termed "sings." A melodeon purchased in Portland before starting on the voyage, together with stringed instruments and many books, both musical and readable, proved a great source of amusement. Of all the pieces sung, "Unity" seenied to be the great favorite of all the passengers. On May 7th, I find a record of "A Grand Concert in evening with Fireworks." The artists were Snow and Moody, violinists; Reed, fife; Sweetsir, drum; Brown, Thompson, Leavitt, Snow and Moody, vocalists. Rice prepared the fireworks. I find reference to fireworks in other let- ters to mean — barrels of refuse were saturated with oil of some kind, set on fire and cast overboard "amid the cheers of all on board." This 24 Maine in History and Romance concert commenced at 7 P. M., closed at 8 P. M. with "great applause from both gallery and pit." ''For the finale three loud huzzahs from the crowd gave perfect satisfaction to every listener." Here we find the ever present need of cheer and entertainment by the human being. On land or sea there must be a diversion, these young men were not unlike all young men of the present day, they must have amusement. I doubt if there could be a more lonesome or homesick lot than these boys on that memorable voyage. My '49-er says: "I look on the bright side, I assure you, as long as it will do to without turning over the leaf. It will not always do, you know, to continually look at the bright spots in life for in so doing we should have no contrast, which alone goes very far towards sweetening life's pleasures. It is by seeing the extremes that we learn to value our present blessings." And again I quote : "Alas for us, we do not know how to prize real blessings until we are deprived of them; thus we ever live on and are never happy nor content with our situation in life but are ever look- ing forward to something in the far distant future, which, with all our striving we never can obtain, for it, ever like our shadows, moves just so far in advance and we are never able to come up with it nor do we derive any benefit by the chase." In all these weary and monotonous months of sea travel good health was preserved which had the happy tendency to make the journey much easier to bear. From the culinary department no such spreads and lunches were served as those with which the young people of to-day are refreshed, even when on board steam cars or sailing vessels, en route to the "Golden Gate." Note the following: "The board is spread in the after house For breakfast with, what do you think? 'Tis what the sailors call lobskouse With coffee and water to drink. For dinner comes sea-pie, by sailors called, What we call soup at home. For supper we have hash, half mauled With bread as hard as stone. On Tuesday as on Monday morn It does not change a peg. Except sometimes have bread of corn And perchance a rotten egg. On pork and beans, at noon we're fed With 'taters and beef to match. For supper again we have hard bread And whatever else can catch. Letters and Keepsakes of the Forty-niner. Letter in Rhyme; Cccoanut Carved by Natives of Valparaiso; Panama Echo of June, 1850; Box over 75 years old in which Letters are Kept Tale of a Forty -Miner 25 On Wednesday noons we have boiled rice With sauce to eat thereon, But ere one gets a second slice Behold, the whole is gone. On Thursday noons we have enough And on 't I'd like to live. A plenty of warm smoking duff And sauce to eat therewith. The next day noon stewed pork and beans Are spread the table round. And such appetites, to me it seems. Can ne'er again be found. Next morn salt halibut is spread For us to take a bite. On the same again at noon we're fed, Then hash it up at night. On Sundays we have nothing new. For breakfast we have hash, For dinner we put the warm duff through Then take for supper trash." Not a varied menu surely. Occasionally we find a note of a porpoise caught or an albatross or shark. The porpoise was very good eating, tasting very much like beefsteak, and then again chowders were enjoyed made of "skipjacks," a small fish I should judge. I find record of several vessels spoken and sighted from different parts of the world during these seven long months, the greater part of these vessels bound for the same port and with the same object in view — Golden Treasure. Among the craft so spoken were the "Charles Cooper," from Bangor; "May Jane," from Plymouth, Nova Scotia; "The Monument," from New York; "Her- culean," from Boston, all bound for San Francisco. Occasionally a party cam.e on board from another ship as I find "Young men from the Eu- phrasia were entertained at dinner." This boat seemed to be the one en- countered oftenest, I read of its being so many miles ahead or so far be- hind, quite often during the last part of the trip. On the evening of May 28th anchor was dropped in San Francisco bay, 64 days from Valparaiso, making in all since the Brig Margaret left Portland, Maine, 229 days, covering a distance of about 20,000 miles. While the journey was long and tedious there were others who were as seemingly foolish as our '49-er of whom I write, as I learn from an- other bit from the letter in rhyme: 26 Maine in History and Romance "If time and cash I've foolish spent These two things do me content, I'm not the only putty head, I have no babes to cry for bread. The preacher has the pulpit left And scooted out here with the rest ; The good old man to preach has call Where most of gold and silver fall. The lawyer too has left the bar And jumped aboard the rolling car. He feels his talents needed where They have most of golden dust to spare. The doctor too has left the sick To whom he did so closely stick. He fancies he, 'mong stranger's ills At greater gain can palm quack pills. The cobbler has thrown down his last ; The blacksmith blows no more his blast; The tinker mends no more old ware; The joiner has left both plane and square; So strong this love of root of evil That each with pickaxe, spade and shovel, Has closed his business, left his home, And off to California gone." On the 29th of May all went on shore amidst bustle and hurry, only too glad to place their feet once more on terra firnia. As is perfectly nat- ural, the post office was the first place in town sought out, each anxious to receive word of home and friends after the long separation of seven months without one message from the States. Our Goldseeker reached the office and with glad heart and eager hands received the much anticipated letters from home. Hastily breaking the seal of a letter from a brother, he read with anguish and dismay of the death of an older sister who had been as a mother to the little family left motherless for a number of years. The death occurred some four months before the arrival in San Francisco. This was indeed a most depressing blow for a young man so far from home and among practically entire strangers who neither knew nor cared for another's joys or sorrows. "Feeling that our loss is her gain and that it is right and for the best else it would not have been so ordered by the author of our being, I must bear it, alone. If prosperity attend me, I hope soon to return before an- other link be severed." "There are some five or six hundred sails lying in the harbor, many of which will probably never leave if the mines hold out as they have. In my trip around the city I went into some of the saloons and such piles of gold and silver I never before saw. Gambling is carried on at a great Tale of a Forty -Miner 27 rate. I am told that men often lose a fortune at one bet. There is not one thing to be desired in or around the city except the 'shiners' which are here and no mistake. There is not one thing good in San Francisco. Everything to lead astray unless constantly on guard. The rum business as popular as any other business that is done." "Business here is very good but not as good as last year, daily wages vary according to the kind of employment. A man who has a trade gets from $10 to $14 a day. Painters get ten dollars a day, wood is worth sixty to seventy dollars a cord, coal thirty dollars a ton. Money lets here for 9,^4 per cent, per month. The reason for this I cannot see unless it be the continual speculation carried on. I saw a man yesterday who had just come from the mines, had been there nineteen months and made $15,000. Another man near him, he said, cleaned up $14,000 in one day — a reliable story I am told." 'T leave for the mines with a hope but no certainty of success — - many pleasing tales are told. A man who is steady can without a doubt do well. Common day laborers get from five to six dollars; tinmen, six to eight dollars a day; blacksmiths, ten to twelve. Board is from twelve to thirty-five dollars per week. Potatoes 25c per pound, onions $1.00 a pound, flour twelve dollars a barrel. Clothing of all kinds is compara- tively cheap." "Scythes all hung are worth $800.00 per dozen, but before a person could get a lot here perhaps they would be as low as in the states." I remember of reading in one of the bundle of old letters before me that acquaintances from Monmouth were cutting hay with jack-knives and selling in market for $9.00 per hundred pounds. Scythes surely were much needed implements, and at that time worth almost their zueight in gold. In June, 1850, we find our '49-er en route for the mines. Altho he did not use pickaxe and spade, there was plenty to do, day wages were good and a certainty of payment every Saturday night. While he enjoyed the best of health in the mines together with the out-of-doors life, which was his true element, his stay was short, leaving the mines the last of September, coming into San Francisco again, filled with ambition, energy and a determination to make good. He accepted and did whatever kind of labor presented itself, living up to his adopted motto as long as life lasted that "Labor is honorable." In early life our '49-er showed the spirit and independence and de- sire to find a place or make one in the world and we find him at the age of eleven years trudging from Monmouth to Manchester now called, Hal- lowell then I think, to "chore it" on a farm. He spent but a short time there however and struck for home — leaving his jacket in the bean field. From that time on, his ideas were cultivated, his pride aroused, and at nineteen he became a general mechanic. His father was a farmer also known as a "joiner," therefore the son imbibed the father's talent and became versed in the use of tools of all kinds used in those days. 28 Maine in History and Romance Just previous to his departure for California he learned the art of building carriages and all agricultural implements. Now when we find him in far away California we find him ready to take up any sort of work, mechanical or otherwise. Thus we find him busy, with many occupations. Carpentry proved to be a lucrative employment, and we find him exceed- ingly tired after hard days of work, laying floors or putting up buildings of all descriptions. The Californian's way seemed to be much as the West has been in the past years or when it was new. Fires destroyed, but in two weeks' time buildings ready for immediate occupancy appeared on the sites of the burned. When wood-working business became dull, we find this young man in a coining establishment for a while, working at one dollar an hour — a day's work consisting of anywhere from five to eleven hours according to the amount of work to do. "So you see, if I am not making money I am in the money-making business surely, for we make two or three thousand dollars every day." Again we find him building drays, a semblance of the trade learned in the East. These drays were as exorbitant in price as many other articles; "A good iron axle dray is worth from two hundred to three hundred dollars." "Variety is the spice of life" we are told, and if the varieties of this son's work were not especially spicy, they served to bring experience in all walks of life, as for instance, he served for a time as private night watch on a certain city block, with "no company but a revolver." "San Francisco for the past year has been an awful place, dangerous to be un- protected after dark; the lynch law enforced for the safety of life and property." It seemed to be a very common occurrence to hang men; in one particular instance, the prisoners were actually stolen from the jail by a vigilant committee, taken to the place of execution and in twenty minutes they were hung in the presence of 10,000 spectators. A short quotation regarding the ups and downs of his career is most characteristic. He says: "I am determined to take the world as it is dealt out to me; if a piece of clear meat, it is well, I'll eat it; but if a bone, it is equally well, I'll gnaw it." One letter to friends records his occupation for a short time as that of clerk in a hotel, doing all sorts of housework but the cooking, that par- ticularly, he seemed to draw the line on, and yet a little later we find him a famous cook — in his own estimation, — of that a little further on. In October, year of 1850. California was admitted into the Union. San Francisco carried out a great celebration with noted speakers and all the other attractions of such affairs as are in vogue at our modern cele- brations of whatsoever kind. Our '49-er writes of a Washington's birth- day celebration, also great crowds, gathered to hear the addresses by three speakers ; and what is pleasing to us of this day, "Each speaker re- ferred to Maine as an example worthy to be followed by each and every State in the Union in regard to the liquor question." Once more he speaks of a great time electing city officers — "The city went whig, hurrah for the whigs, don't you say so?" Tale of a Forty -Niner 29 And so the days and months went on. We find by the tone of many of the letters, that friends in the East were importuning him to return to his kindred. He seemed not just ready to return, not for lack of regard for the folks at home, for no one could be more loyal to the place of birth and childhood's friends than this young man— as we find in this extract : "This is one of the most pleasant evenings I ever beheld, the full moon is shining brightly and everything around looks cheerful and pleasing, yet, there is a sadness resting on my heart which the brilliancy of the silver moon cannot dispel but on the contrary rather adds to my sadness, for at such times, above all others, I am led to think and reflect on the past." He admitted that the country was beautiful, that more money could be accumulated in a given time than in the States, and yet he fully realized that he never would make California his permanent home. So he braved the homesickness and discomforts and toiled on only to lose by specula- tion and treacherous friends, a large portion of his hard-earned gold; but nothing daunted he went on, worked the harder and came off conqueror with a clean record. He says: "In regard to Fortune's smiles and frowns, I assure you I am a better judge of the latter than the former, for since I have been in California I do not think Fortune has ever grinned on me much but on the whole has ever had a frown. I have, however, fared better than some, much worse than thousands. A great number will soon go back to the States, some with fortunes, but by far the greater numbers with no more than they can conveniently carry in a two-bushel basket." Now we find an entire change in the mode of life. Our friend bought a claim of i6o acres or one-quarter section of land, some fifteen miles from San Francisco, just across the bay. This in fall of '51. Here it became a constant grind of hard labor, that of farmer and housekeeper combined. To relieve the monotony and feeling that two would be com- pany, he took in a partner and from this partnership a warm friendship sprang up. I will say here, he also acquired a fine cat which, in his esti- mation, seemed to be the only cat in the State worthy of mention. He describes his ranch home thus: "It is a very pleasant place I think, yet it is somewhat out of the way of the world, as I may say. It is all in sight of the big city and bay of San Francisco and is one of the prettiest groves you ever saw. The trees are low, resembling very much in appearance a very large apple tree, all the same kind, live oak, with no underbrush to hinder traveling in a carriage even. There are some three thousand acres of this kind of lum- ber and the land is as level as a house floor. Our house, or hut I may term it, is just on the northern edge of the woods, under two large trees, beauties too, such as I should be proud of at home. Our house is small but large and comfortable enough for a gander party in California." And here he breaks into verse again: BO Maine in History and Romance "My room is small, but large enough To hold myself and all my stuff. My furniture is not high cost Nor in its abundance am I lost. I have a small stove with all cooking tools, A table and fixin's and two three-legged stools. A bed, and a trunk which I bro't from down East. I have many things more which I might here mention But think it would not be worth your attention. So no more I'll tell you of things I have got But will wish, hope and pray for those I have not." 'Tis here we find the record of his cooking and housekeeping stunts, not exactly up to the standard of the average New England house- wife, but good health prevailed and here we get the idea. "The bread we use I do not bake in the oven but on a fry pan, something the way you do fritters only mix it much thicker. I can make a very good cake so and it is done in so short a time makes me like it more; men or boys do not spend much time in cooking but do it in the least possible time and have as little variety as possible. Each one has his own plate, knife and fork and uses them 'til he takes a notion to wash them which is quickly done by pouring a little hot water on them and wiping them on a piece of paper or cloth as the case may be. When we drink coffee, we use it three times a day. Sometimes we put in some new coffee but often the same old grounds have to be put through three or four times. When we get the pot nearly filled with old grounds so it won't hold enough for our family, we throw them out and begin anew, or perhaps start on tea and put it through the same way." Hygiene, pure food and the continual war against germs seemed to be but little talked or thought of in those days of more than one half century ago, but, "good digestion waited on appetite and good health on both." With all the exercise and outdoor life, good health only could prevail. We find the ranch work described as similar to the farm work of these days but with home-made implements and conveniences, which would, in these days of modern machinery, be quite curious objects of interest to our rising young farmers. We find our California farmer planting pota- toes on a large scale, we also note that they rotted in the ground as we so often hear in these days. Again we read of full crops and a good market, a good crop and no market. Hens seemed to be profitable creatures and when we consider the high price of fresh eggs at this time with us, we are thankful we do not have to pay $2.00 a dozen as in California in 1852 and '53. Chicken we consider quite a dainty luxury even at 25 cents a pound. Would we have relished an old hen even at $4.00 each? I think not, but such were the prices in those days in California. While the labor was tiresome and continuous from sun to sun there was always an hour Tale of a Forty -Miner 31 for fun, recreation and thought. Many an hour was spent writing long letters to friends and incidentally longer letters to the young lady friend referred to in the beginning of this article. Not all these letters reached her, however, as I read of an evening spent with pen and ink in trans- ferring a bit of heart talk only to have the effort literally thrown away. Ranch friends and neighbors were more or less troubled with the rodents which infest most buildings the world over, to the detriment of many ingathered crops. Rat hunts were indulged in frequently and on one of these exciting and festive occasions, our friend placed the com- pleted missive in his cap for safe-keeping, and to insure its reaching the post office. In his zeal to chase down the creatures, he threw his cap, forgetting the letter. On returning to the field of battle, a thorough search revealed no sign of the written document, possibly a "trade rat" as we read of in "Friar Tuck" took it away. But another letter was soon written and the delay apologized for. Rats were not the only disagreeable members of the animal family to contend with, as "I killed a big rattlesnake to-day, the largest I have ever seen in the country. I took his rattles oft' and am sending them home. I found him m a bunch of bushes in the field and came near tak- ing hold of him." Here he writes: "The big guns of San Francisco have just fired which tells me it is 9 o'clock while with you it is about midnight." I read also that the big guns announced when the mail steamers left San Francisco. Now comes the spring of 1854 and while the climate of California was all our friend could wish, particularly the winters "A young man's fancy," etc., and we find him making preparations for a return to the East. He says : "This country is new and may not present so cheering an aspect as those inhabited for centuries, still, after all, there is much to be admired in California, I think, and every year adds new beauties to it. The inhabitants are of all nations nearly, yet are not so much mixed as one would think, no more so than Boston, New York or in any city of the States." "I have been thinking I should be thankful when I get through with this kind of life for I can assure you there is little or no comfort or pleasure in it. All are strangers looking solely after his own personal in- terests without knowing or caring whether others live or die." "I am truly thankful for one blessing which is — the best of health, for which I am not dependent on cold-hearted strangers but alone to the Giver and Preserver of life and the Bestower of all blessings. Did I not possess this great gift my situation would be miserable and lonely indeed." "It would take a good deal of money to hire me to walk in just the same path again I have trod in the last few years. Yet I would not be deprived of the little experience I have gained. Yankees are bound to see all there is in the world and it's no use talking." Crops were disposed of, land claims settled, adieus were made and our '49-er came away, not with the hoped for fortune, not with sacks of 32 Maine in History and Romance the golden dust, just enough of the treasure to form a finger ring which the "girl he left behind him" (now eighty-five years young) treasures, along with the bundle of old letters from which the main portions of this article were taken. There is much more of interest in these old letters but let this suffice. Our friend arrived in Monmouth in late spring of '54) gl3-d to see home and friends once more. Lugan Parker Moody, our '49-er, was born in Monmouth in 1823, of poor but highly respected parents. His grandfather, Gilman Moody, from Gilmantown, N. H., was a pioneer Methodist preacher. His father, John Moody, son of Gilman, was a soldier in the war of 1812 and was taken prisoner in Quebec. An interesting item in connection with his imprisonment is this — escape was made from the prison by using a watch spring as a file. Work was done during the night in turn by the seven or eight men in the group. John Moody, distinguished for his wide mouth, was delegated to care for the spring file, which he did, by carrying it in his mouth during the day. The bars were successfully sawed, a tunnel under the wall was completed and the State line almost but not quite reached owing to the treachery and perfidy of one of the party. All were recaptured. John Moody made a second escape however. This time the effort proved a success, but with terribly frozen feet which gave much trouble the rest of his life. Not much schooling was granted to Lugan Parker Moody, but he made the best of his meagre opportunities and at an early age, compara- tively, we find him a full-fledged business man and a good citizen of the town of Winthrop, his adopted home. His was a busy life. He served the town as clerk for about seven years; acted on the board of school directors; was always interested in the general development of his town; was a staunch republican in politics ; an active and prominent member of the Universalist Church and a good Masonic brother. Mr. Moody was a great lover of music, leading church choirs at various times and teach- ing vocal music in "singing school." He carried on a successful business in hardware and tinsmith for many years; was influential in making the Centennial Celebration of Winthrop in 1871 a success and was ever ready to work for the good of the community. Mr. Moody died in March, 1888, leaving a wife and two daughters who to-day are enjoying the comforts of the "Almighty Dollars" he accumulated by industry, thrift and faith- ful obedience to the Best there was in him. 'It can boast of a Brave Commander — Commodore Samuel L. Tucker' The Story of Bristol By SARA E. SVENSEN Chapter I — The Gulf Between. |jp? HY ARE you idling here? Is there not enough work on the farm to keep you busy ?" I had seated myself by the dining-room window and was watching the falling snow. Only a week had passed since my arrival in America, and the quietness of the winter scenery made me homesick. There seemed to be a gulf between me and home. Dear old Scotland, my native land, and the happy days spent with the family, while my mother and father were living, rose up before me. Then disturbing thoughts filled my mind — the death of both my par- ents; the breaking up of my home: the necessity of seeking work. Though only a boy, I had procured on credit a small package of goods to the value of about ten dollars, and started on a peddling expedi- tion in order to earn a livelihood. At the very beginning of my proposed tour, I had the misfortune to lose my whole stock in trade which was stolen from me in the night at the tavern where I had stopped. From the circumstances of the case, a recovery of the goods I knew to be hopeless, and I was in utter con- sternation. ■ Without even returning to bid farewell to my friends, I struck a bargain with a captain of an emigrant brig and embarked. In due time I reached the coast of Maine and found my relative, Alexander McLean, whose name I bore. My uncle's harsh voice filled me with evil forebodings. Had he al- ready heard of my dishonest dealings? I was so agitated I could not answer at once, and the stern voice broke the silence again. "Come, why do you look so sulky? This is Thanksgiving Day; you ought to feel a little gratitude for past favors!" 'T am grateful, Uncle Alex," I finally answered, "more than I can tell. I have tried to do everything as you wished." "Perhaps Andy is hungry," said Aunt Mary. "It is late." I called Mary Given aunt, although she was only a sister-in-law to Rev. Alexan- der McLean. "I do not see why the guests tarry," said uncle, impatiently, pacing the floor like a caged tiger. His beast of a temper was under control, but it was always growling to be let loose. He often brought it forth to ex- ercise it under a cloak of religion. When my uncle went up-stairs to his study, Aunt Mary gave me a 34 Maine in History and Romance generous piece of pumpkin pie, and then gave her attention to the dinner. Her activity made me forget my troubles and her tongue kept pace with her hands and feet. "Your uncle was born on the Tsle of Skye, Scotland, and educated at the University of Aberdeen. He was the son of a Scotch Presbyterian who was wealthy." Now she drew forward a kettle, hanging over the fire on a crane, lifted the cover, emitting a savory odor that made me hungrier than ever. "He is now regularly settled in Bristol, being the first to receive the honor, and preaches successively in the three meeting houses of the town, Walpole, Broad Cove and Pemaquid. Rev. William Riddell, the minister who boards here, is his colleague. Your uncle is talented, and the people like his sermons, but his peculiarities have made him very unpopular." She caught up a holder, as if to emphasize her words, and opened an oven door in the side of the chimney. All being satisfactory, she con- tinued, "He married my twin sister, but his harshness shortened her life. She was a beautiful girl of seventeen, while he was twice her age." As if to hide her emotion, Aunt Mary seized a crank and, handing it to the colored servant, made her understand that she wished assistance. The old negress turned the roast, by turning an iron rod thrust thru it, given such help as was needed by the younger woman. As I looked on, I wondered why this amiable woman, whose father was considered the richest man at the Falls, had come here to work for such a disagreeable man. I spoke my thoughts, but was sorry a moment after, for possibly I had offended. Aunt Mary turned, rosy from her ex- ertions over the hot blaze. There was a twinkle in her eye, and wit and humor lurking about her mouth, while no trace of sadness remained. "I will tell you a little secret," she said, playfully, placing a finger on her lips, to indicate that I was to keep it. "Your poor uncle has a hard time pleasing housekeepers. The last one cruelly threatened to pin the dish- cloth to his coat-tails because he wished to show her how to do the work. Called it interference and left without fulfilling her threat," Aunt Mary finished with a musical laugh. "He doesn't seem to interfere with ycur work," I said, much amused. She laughed again, and changed the subject. After a short silence, she said, earnestly, "Really, I am not overworked. Mammy does the rough part ; but since the tragic death of her little daughter, she has been too broken by grief to bear responsibility." There was another pause and then she added bitterly, "Your uncle is responsible for that. It was one of those times when he thought he was obliged to bring forth his tiger temper and exercise it." In a moment. Aunt Mary had recovered her old cheerfulness, and tenderly patting the colored woman's hand, said, "You did take good care of the little twins, didn't you? Sister and I loved our dear old nurse." Then she turned to me and said, "When Sarah was married, father, who kept slaves, gave her this colored mammy and her little The Story of Bristol 35 daughter as servants." In the silence that followed, I remembered Jen- nie, my young companion, my play-fellow, my much-loved cousin, who was two years my junior, and eagerly said, "Why couldn't Jennie take charge? She could cook a nice dinner, Aunt Mary, I am quite sure. She knows a lot." My aunt, smiling at my enthusiasm, answered, "Jennie is a very capable girl for only twelve. She is a good housekeeper and takes ex- cellent care of her little brother, Wallace, but she is sensitive like her mother. I wish to protect her from her father's censure. Should he consider it a religious duty to exercise his temper to-day, it will fall on the first one handy, and I wish to be the handiest one about, this Thanks- giving." Aunt Mary folded her hands in such a comically resigned way that I laughed aloud. There was a gulf between Aunt Mary and Uncle Alex. "But there is a weightier motive for shouldering the responsibility on a day like this," she continued in a subdued voice. "Among the expected guests is one who deserves all the respect that we can give him. Not because he is idolized by the people here in Bristol, not because he has been commissioned by Washington" — as she continued, she waxed elo- quent — "nor, yet because he is one of the greatest heroes of the Revolu- tionary War, but because of his nobility of mind and character." "Who is the hero. Aunt Mary?" My quesition was lost in the ex- citement. There was the sound of horses' hoofs without, and we knew the expected guests had arrived. Chapter II— The Hero. There was a stir all over the house. Hasty footsteps sped across the dining-room floor. Final touches were added to the table, last peeps given to the dinner. Above stairs. Uncle Alex was on the watch, and in less time than it takes to tell it, he had descended the stairs and flung wide the door. There was a noise as of many feet, and uncle's voice was heard say- ing, "Hang your overcoats and hats here in the hall, and come right into the dining-room where you will find a hot fire and a hot dinner if you get at it soon enough." The harsh tones penetrated the dining-room and fell upon Aunt Mary's ear. She looked provoked and said, as if to herself, "Isn't that just like him? I call that McLean whispering." As the guests entered, I said excitedly, "Who is the hero. Aunt Mary?" Uncle Alex heard, and taking a tall, stout, broad-shouldered gentleman of striking appearance by the arm, said, "This is the hero, Commodore Samuel Tucker." The courteous manner and gallant bearing of the commodore in- spired confidence and a jovial good humor in us all. We felt as if we had always known him. 36 Maine in History and Romance The other guests were Robert Given, Aunt Mary's father, Rev. Wm. Riddell, uncle's assistant, and John Grant, a midshipman on the frigate Boston when Commodore Tucker was in command. They were all dressed in the prevailing fashion of the day, colored coats, velvet waist- coats, knee breeches and silver buckles. The tall, stately figure of the commodore approached the fire, and with a strong expletive, he said, "Ah ! but this is a bitter day without ! I believe I am chilled thru I" "There is something that will give you both warmth and cheer," said my uncle, pointing to a well filled side- board. Then he added, "We generally take wine after our dinner." Forthwith all the guests were treated. Uncle would have been consid- ered lacking in hospitality had he omitted the stimulant. Jennie and Wallace joined us at table. As I sat down, I took in the whole sumptuous affair — the immaculate cloth, the glittering glass, the shining silver, the turkey with its brown sides dripping richness, in the center of the table — at one end was placed a young corn-fed porker; and delicious pumpkin pies two inches thick that were to be eaten with cream, at the other; between were vegetables and sauces. There was considerable conversation at the table. "This war with England is terrible," said Aunt Mary, in answer to a discussion between her father and Uncle Alex. "Provisions are so scarce and dear, it renders the situation of the poor inhabitants de- plorable." "Much of the business of this region is connected with navigation interests and the fisheries, both of which are nearly destroyed, and the people suffer seriously in consequence," said my uncle. "They can neither send their wood to market nor obtain the neces- sary supplies they were accustomed to receive in return," added Mr. Given. "Besides," said Aunt Mary, seriously, "We are kept in constant alarm, especially those living immediately on the coast, for fear the Brit- ish may come up and attack Bristol. I hear that marauding parties, seeking plunder, occasionally make their appearance off Pemaquid Point." "I hope they won't come up here," said Jennie, terrified. "You and your Aunt Mary could go out and drive them away with your broomsticks," said Mr. Given, trying to give the conversation a humorous turn. "I think the commodore can bear me out in that." "Well," was the laughing reply, "I have found some pretty hard cus- tomers among the British." Mr. Given said, "I heard they were once frightened away by a shawl, and I think a broom is a more formidable weapon." "You still stick to the broom," said my uncle, looking much amused. "What is this story about the shawl?" "I can't vouchsafe for the truth of the tale, but will tell it as 'twas told to me. A party of ladies and gentlemen went down to the old Pema- The Story of Bristol 37 quid fort. One female, becoming separated from the others, stood on the great rock and waved her shawl, hoping to attract the attention of her companions. The British, thinking the Americans were summoning re-enforcements, set all sails to the breeze and hastened away." "Did she find her companions?" I asked. "You'll make a good lawyer, you stick to the point," said Mr. Given, and then he added, answering my question, "I remember I was told she did." "Now it is your turn to tell a naval story," said Uncle Alex to Com- modore Tucker. "A story, let us have a sea story," was repeated on all sides. The commodore smiled, and there was a twinkle in his eye, as he replied, "If I tell any naval stories, I shall have to talk about myself and I rather, some one else would do that." Tucker closed his firm mouth as if he would never open it again. As we arose from the table the clock in the corner, towering above the straight-backed mahogany chairs, struck three. Uncle Alex seized the tongs, stirred the fire into a crackling blaze, and invited the guests to seats around the spacious fire-place. "I'll talk about you, commodore," said John Grant. The narrator was a typical Scotchman, tall, fair and broad-shouldered, and as the story became exciting, he arose to his feet and made expressive gestures. "T am now to relate an incident about which I love to talk. "It was the Christmas present given Captain Tucker in 1777 — the command of the fine, new frigate Boston, built in Boston and named for that town — "She carried twenty-four guns and one hundred and seventy-five men, besides her company of marines, and in her equipment surpassed any other vessel in commission at that time. "We went on board the craft December 27th, and we all had the feel- ing that she was to be assigned to some important mission. "The new year came, a month passed, but still we waited. The first of February an incident occurred which led us to believe the time of our sailing was drawing near. A new banner arrived for the frigate, the flag adopted by the American Congress and destined to be known 'ere long the world over as the emblem of liberty — the stars and stripes. Amid the cheers of our men, it was unfurled from our masthead. "Nine days later. Captain Tucker was summoned before the Chair- man of the Naval Committee, and directed to receive the Honorable John Adams upon his frigate and convey him as a special envoy to France. To avoid the numerous man-of-wars which infested the track across the Atlantic, required an officer of consummate skill and intrepidity and Congress had full confidence in the commodore; and for that reason had chosen him commander of the vessel which was to perform this mission. "On the i6th day of the month, Mr. Adams was received on board of the Boston with all the honors of his high position, and on the 17th, at 38 Maine in History and Romance seven p. m., we weighed anchor, and proceeded to sea, with the stars and stripes waving to a fine northwestern breeze, and with the firing of a salute of seven guns. Captain Tucker went to the log-book, and wrote the following brief prayer: 'Pray God conduct me safe to France, and send me a prosperous voyage.' Our departure at nightfall had been pur- posely arranged to slip by the watching frigates at the mouth of the bay under the cover of darkness. We made the passage in safety, and in an hour were well out to sea; but we were soon aware that we were chased by three of the enemy's ships. An anxious night followed. We were running at the rate of seven knots an hour, and we had reason to be- lieve that the other vessels were making as good a pace. Double watches were kept on the deck. Captain Tucker never left it. For three hours we held to the course we had been following before nightfall. I will not go into details, suffice it to say we finally distanced our enemies, and when morning dawned, we were out of sight, and saw no further trace of them. "But barely had we escaped one danger when we ran in with an- other. A northeast gale swept down upon us, and for nine days we battled with wind and rain and sleet and snow, and were compelled at times to heave to, and other times to sheer around and run before the storm. I do not think we gained a hundred miles on our way during the tempest. "Then came gentle breezes from the south, the temperature mod- erated, the snow and ice that had encased us disappeared, and we made fair progress towards our destination. "One day during this spring-like weather, we sighted a vessel to the southeast, which was standing to the west. We changed our course to intercept her, and in a short time were able to make out that she was a large merchantman, carrying twelve guns. "There was no question but that she also saw us, and seeing us, she must have known that we were larger than she, and mounted two guns to her one. Yet she made no attempt to escape us, or, for that matter, to come up with us. She simply kept on her way. When a little nearer, however, we noticed that her plucky commander was preparing for an attack. All hands had been piped to their stations. The guns were be- ing shotted and made ready for firing. His attitude said as plainly as words : 'Let me alone, and I'll let you alone. But if you attack me, you'll find me ready. I shall defend myself to the best of my ability.' Tho we had not yet spoken a word with him, he inspired us with a feel- ing of profoundest respect. Had we been without our distinguished pass- enger, we should have hastened to the attack. But our first duty was to care for his safety, tho there had been nothing in Captain Tucker's orders to prevent him from taking a prize if she fell in his way. "Confident that the ship ahead of him must contain a valuable cargo, or she would not be so heavily armed, our commander felt it would be a grave mistake to allow her to pass unmolested. Yet he would not as- The Story of Bristol 39 sume the responsibility of attempting her capture alone. He therefore called Mr. Adams and his officers into council, frankly stating his wish to seize the English ship in sight. "Mr. Adams was the first to speak when he had stated the case: •' 'If I were not here, Captain Tucker,' he said, 'you would not hesi- tate at all in making the attack, would you?' " 'Not an instant,' acknowledged the captain. " 'Then consider that I am not here, and go ahead,' continued the brave envoy. 'I agree with you that yonder vessel must have a fine cargo or she would not take along twelve guns and at least two score men to protect it. If so valuable to her government, it is more valuable to us. We should not miss the opportunity to make it ours.' "That settled the matter, and instantly the frigate was alive with activity. The men were drummed to their stations ; the reefs were shaken out of our top-sails ; the guns were made ready for action ; the marines were drawn up amidships, ready to rake the deck of the enemy with their muskets and away we dashed in pursuit of the craft. "Having executed my last order. I paused a moment to glance about me. What a fine appearance the frigate made when ready for battle ! How earnest and reliant our men seemed ! For an instant I was lost in admiration of the scene, and then my attention was diverted. I saw Mr. Adams seize a musket and take his place with the marines. Evidently he was going to take part in the fray. But the captain discovered him a little later, and stepping up to him and placing a hand on his shoul- der, he said with a voice of authority: 'Mr. Adams, I am commanded by the Continental Congress to deliver you safe in France, and you must go below, sir.' "Mr. Adams smiled, and went down to the cabin, but with such evi- dent reluctance, our men broke into a cheer. "By this time we were well up with the ship, and our skipper, by one of those quick maneuvers for which he was noted, put his own ves- sel into the position he desired. His guns were ready, his men were at their posts, the match stocks were smoking and yet he hesitated to give the order to fire. At this delay the crew grew impatient, and, seeing so fine a chance to strike a fatal blow passing, they began to murmur. Then Captain Tucker cried out in a loud voice : 'Hold on, my men ! I wish to save the egg without breaking the shell !' "Nor were they compelled to hold on long, for the commander of the merchantman, plucky as he was, saw the advantageous position our frigate was in, and how desperate his own chance was, and so struck his colors without our firing a gun.' "Isn't it time we heard from you, commodore?" asked Uncle Alex. "I beg to be excused to-night, I fear that too much of Commodore Tucker may weary the company." As our hero spoke, his face wore such a queer expression we all laughed in spite of our disappointment, but with quick sympathy he add- 40 Maine in History and Romance ed in reassuring tones, "The very next time we meet around this hos- pitable hearth, 1 will tell you a naval story." "We will not forget that," said Mr. Given. It was late and the guests agreed with my uncle that it was time to go to rest. With the reverence peculiar to the Scotch people, before retiring. Uncle Alex took down from a high shelf the Bible, and said with solemn air, "Let us worship God." He handed, the book to Wm. Riddell. The chapter was from the New Testam.ent, how guiltless blood was shed for guilty man ; how Christ who bore in Heaven a name exalted, had on earth not where to lay his head. As we were about to kneel, the commodore said reverently, "Pray God to protect us and carry us thru our various troubles." That Tucker had troubles, disappointments and losses was well known. The guests, with cheerful good-nights, ascended to their rooms. As I entered the large, old-fashioned apartment that I was to occupy, I felt lost, a trifle lonesome, a little nervous, from listening to the stories per- haps; I could hardly analyze my feelings. The light from the dying em- bers on the hearth shone fitfully upon the large four-poster with quaint canopy. I then thought of the events of the day and of its close, of the pravers. What a difference there was between my uncle and Mr. Rid- dell! I thought of the latter's humble prayer. The acknowledgement that he was nothing and Christ was all. That discovering his own utter help- lessness, and in place of it all, accepting the divine strength, the divine wisdom, the divine peace, with such child-like trust and faith. I did not put this into words then, but I felt it. What uncle accomplished with difficulty by authority, Mr. Riddell accomplished pleasantly by love. All that Uncle Alex did was tinged with bitterness, even his praying, so I thought. The fire was now out, and I undressed hastily and hopped into bed. The remembrance of that other prayer shed a benign influence around me and I slept peacefully. Chapter IH. The next morning I jumped quickly out of bed and approached the window. The beautiful white expanse lay before me like an unsullied sheet. The guests had already arisen. As I descended the stairs I heard uncle say, "The roads are so bad you had better stay until after Sunday." Another winter evening had darkened without the McLean farm- house, but all within was sunshine and joviality. The guests had again gathered around the broad, hospitable hearth. The fire gave forth a ruddy light, reflecting pewter dishes arranged along the wall. Heavy logs dripping with half-melted snow were cast upon the embers. Commodore Tucker, true to his promise, told his stories without urging. T r The McLean Elm at Round Pond The Story of Bristol 41 "I will relate an experience when I came as near being a coward as ever I did in my life," he began. We all knew that wasn't very near, for in coolness and deliberate courage, no naval commander had excelled him. "It was when we were chased by the Algiefian Pirates that every hair on my head seemed to stand on end," he continued. "I was only seventeen when it happened, and more afraid of dying then. I enlisted on board a vessel at Salem, bound for Lisbon. I was second mate, my brother being first mate. We had arrived within a few hours' sail of our destination, when we discovered the pirates with crowd- ed sail, in pursuit of us. The captain became frightened and flew to the bottle to get courage ; but he drank too much of the intoxicating draught, and had to lie down, so I persuaded him to go below and leave the mate to manage the ship. The pirates were coming upon us rapidly, frighten- ing the wits out of everybody, including my brother. Thoughts went thru my brain like a flash. 'Look here, Sam Tucker,' I said to myself, 'You'd better lose your wits than your head, and you will lose both, if something isn't done to prevent, and blamed quick too.' I knew there was a pros- pect of having all our throats cut. The mere thought made me tremble with fright. " 'Perhaps I will sink the ship,' I reasoned, 'But of two evils I will choose the less.' Terrorized beyond endurance, I made one bound and seized the helm. "As it was drawing towards night, I saw there was hope. I now mustered all my nautical education to my aid, and thanks to my father's advice in attaining unto thoroness, it amounted to considerable. "Instead of fleeing before the enemy, I united naval tactics with skill and navigation and practiced the art of maneuvering the ship in the face of the pirates. I steered the schooner towards the enemy until I passed right under the bow of the windward ship and kept sailing off and on towards the two, whereby one pirate firing on my vessel, the other would be exposed. "Thus I maneuvered for hours, waiting for the shadows to deepen. At one time we were within pistol shot of the cut-throats. As soon as it was dark I ordered the lights to be put out, and making all the sail I could, bore away under cover of night." We all enjoyed this story and thus encouraged, he consented to tell another. "The day I was dubbed the 'rebel Tucker' was the most laughable one of my life." The commodore smiled as the whole scene arose before him. His fine features became animated, his bright complexion was all aglow, his deep blue eyes seemed to grow dark, as he continued. "I had spread my sails and braved the boundless ocean, with the flag of my native land unfurled, and was right in my element." He now looked off into the further corner of the room as if scanning the surface of the sea. Tucker's eyes, accustomed to gazing at distant 42 Maine in History and Romance objects, had become sharpened in vision, and the expression of his coun- tenance had the appearance of looking afar off at sights not seen by men shut up in a narrow horizon. "Soon I discerned a frigate under gallant sail on the high seas, and knew her features well. She was the same one that a short time before had turned away and refused to fight. Now the British officer, smarting under the imputation of cowardice, had come out to redeem his charac- ter by finding the 'rebel Tucker," as he called me, and giving him a sound drubbing. "I sailed toward his vessel under English colors, and soon he hailed me, and the following conversation took place: — '"What ship is that?' " 'Captain Gordon's,'' said I, mentioning an English captain. '' 'Where are you from ?' was the next question. " 'From New York,' said I. "'When did you leave?' he asked. " 'About four days ago,' I replied. " 'Well, I am after that rebel Tucker, and am bound to carry him dead or alive, to New York,' said the British officer. 'Have you seen him?' "I answered, 'Well, I have heard of him ; they say he is a hard cus- tomer.' "During the conversation, I was maneuvering to bring my ship into raking position, so as to sweep the decks of the English frigate. Every man was at his post, guns shotted, gunners with lighted matches in their hands, and all waiting orders from me. There was a man in the main- top of the enemy's ship who had formerly known me and cried out to the English captain, 'That is surely Tucker. We shall have a dashed smell directly.' "I overheard this and having got my ship in a raking position, just as I wished, and seeing I was discovered, gave the order to my men — • " 'Down with the English flag, and hoist the American.' "I then said to the British captain, 'I am Samuel Tucker, but no rebel. Either fire or strike your flag.' The English captain struck his flag. Not a gun was fired. I have been laughing about the 'rebel Tucker' ever since, but I guess the English captain has been crying, for after the cap- ture, he cam.e aboard my vessel, went below to the state room, and shed tears to think he was captured by a vessel no larger than his own." The commodore's conversation was like an April day with so much variety it never became tiresome. ''There are times that I dislike to speak of," he continued. ''Times when all the pride of a victor vanishes. One was the burial of the dead on an island. The vessel that I had taken was from Scotland. It was a heart-rending sight to see the women, who had accompanied these troops, weeping with loud lamentations, and to hear the funeral dirge on the bag-pipes." The Story of Bristol 43 "Tell how you were deceived by a charming widow," said Mr. Grant, addressing Commodore Tucker. The latter threw back his head and laughed heartily at the mere men- tion of it. "I was about to set sail from Falmouth, Maine, one evening after dark, when a lady of genteel appearance, dressed in deep mourning, close- ly veiled, and apparently in great affliction, applied to me to take the body of her deceased husband on board, that she might bury it among her kindred in Massachusetts. "Overcome by her solicitations, I consented, tho reluctantly, and then she informed me that the coffin had not yet arrived, and might be delayed two or three hours, and begged me to wait. "To this also I consented, tho with great inconvenience to myself. It was nearly eleven o'clock before the coffin arrived, which was then placed in the hold, and the mourning widow was accommodated with a state-room near the body of her husband. "As I was pacing the deck at night, watching the movements of the vessel till it should get clear of land, the man at the helm, a shrewd, old seaman, said to me : "'Commodore, may I have a word with you?' " 'Certainly,' was the reply. " 'Well, Commodore, I tell ye I don't like the looks of that 'ere widow very well.' "'Why?' I asked, 'I am sure she is a very genteel person, and tho closely veiled, apparently quite attractive.' "'Yes,' says the old sailor, 'all that; but she steps the deck too much like a naval officer to suit my notions of a woman. If I were you, Com- modore, I would just take a look at that coffin before I turned in to- night.' "My suspicions were aroused, and furnishing my pockets with suit- able instruments, and taking a lantern, I went into the hold. "As I approached the coffin to examine it, I must confess that for a moment I felt that strangeness one experiences when alone in the pres- ence of the dead. I thought to myself, 'If the old Yankee is right in his ideas, the inmate of this casket must be asleep at this late hour. I will make as little noise as possible so as not to awaken him.' "I noticed the coffin was a very large one and, on further examina- tion, discovered a slender black silk cord running from the inside of the lid, and passing thru a crevice into the state room of the widow. "I hesitated, then I gently raised the lid, and there was a stalwart form, quietly sleeping, dressed in the uniform of a British naval officer, and abundantly armed with sword, pike, pistols, etc. Before the man was fully awake, I secured his wrists with handcuff's, which was an easy thing to do to one in such a position, and taken so unaware. I told him if he valued his life not to speak. Then I passed into the state room of the widow. There I found the widow's weeds hanging upon the bulk- '^^ Maine in History and Romance head, and a young, handsome, beardless British naval lieutenant sitting rather uneasily on the side of his berth. "He was also instantly accommodated with handcuffs; and confront- ing the two, it was found, that by the aid of accomplices among the crew who lifted the coffin on board, they had formed a plot to seize the vessel, as soon as she should reach the open sea, and run her into Halifax, with myself, my officers, and faithful crew, prisoners of war." Chapter IV — The Departure. Altho Sunday dawned bright and fair, only the men folks attended church. We mounted our horses, and set off. Commodore Tucker, Mr. Grant and I going on ahead, while Uncle Alex and Mr. Given followed at some distance behind. Mr. Riddell was to preach at Walpole. We went directly along the shore from Round Pond to Muscongus Harbor, and turned northward. After a long, rough ride, we reached the Broad Cove meeting-house, situated on the shore at Greenland Cove. The interior was rude, the ceiling low, the walls unplastered, the pulpit very high with sounding board above. The floor was occupied by cush- ionless benches, within an enclosure. We entered the pew by a small door. My uncle had not yet arrived, and I sat watching the people as they came in; children with bright faces, whose buoyant spirits could not be suppressed even on the Sabbath, flitted by beside their parents, and young men and maidens, some gaily attired, others in more subdued colors. I turned from these scenes and looked out the window, just as the others rode up. The tall form of my uncle now entered with a slow and quiet pace. He was dressed with clerical neatness. He bowed to the people as he passed along and, ascending the steps of the high pulpit, showed himself far above the congregation. After opening the service with prayer, Uncle Alex read the '"Westminster Confession of Faith and Presbyterian Rules." Then followed his sermon. My uncle was a man of education, conversant in Greek and Hebrew, and his discourse was a scholarly one. He had a loud and energetic voice, which, uttered in the breadth of the Scotch brogue, gave to his preaching a pecuHarly dark and terrible im.port, as tho he was armed with the thunders of Heaven. . . . Monday morning the guests departed. Commodore Tucker to his farm on the Muscongus, Mr. Given to his home at the Falls, and Mr. Grant to fight for his country on the broad seas. The day following, my uncle was pacing the floor in the same old restless way. Suddenly he paused, and said abruptly to Aunt Mary, "I have decided to leave home, will be gone some time on a visit to Scotland and I would like for you to remain here during my absence." Aunt Mary was so surprised she did not answer immediately, but in a moment The Story of Bristol 45 she collected herself, and said, "I was thinking of returning home to-day, but am willing to look after my dear sister's children while you are gone, if it is necessary." There was a pause and the uncle said, "There is something very important of which I wish to speak before I go." At length uncle added, "It is about Jennie's reading. The girl has been much given of late to the perusal of fictitious stories. I have burned several novels in the past few months. If any such books are brought into this house while I am gone, I wish you to destroy them without delay." In a few days he departed, leaving Aunt Mary with the care of the household; but the burden did not rest heavily, for she loved to minister to those so near and dear to her. The days passed quickly. They seemed to be keeping pace with Aunt Mary's busy fingers. Not only was she occupied with the general house- work, but she gave her attention to knitting, weaving and spinning. Many a needy person could testify to her industry and charity. Not only clothing, but food was contributed at intervals. All thru the winter she had sent well-filled baskets to the poor. The evenings following Uncle Alex's departure, altho busy ones, were exceedingly enjoyable, especially for the children. The blaze from the burning logs made it sufficiently light to see thruout the room. Altho Mr. Riddell spent many a busy hour with his books, he often joined the family circle, assisted the children in their lessons, and related interesting and uplifting stories. Thus happily were our evenings spent. The time flew by on golden wings. The severe winter had passed and the balmy days of spring were with us before we were aware. One early morning I went out upon the back veranda, and breathed m the pure invigorating air. The scene before me was inspiring; the green grass shooting up, the fine trees budding forth, the broad expanse of water shining and sparkling in the morning sun. I sat down upon the steps, and took from my pocket a map of Bristol, and spread it out before me. Beneath was printed the following, "The very appropriate name, Bristol, was given to the new town, because of the connection of its previous history with so many eminent citizens of Bristol, England, but it is not known by whom it was first suggested." I learned that Bristol was bounded on the north by the towns of Damariscotta, Nobleboro and Waldoboro, on the east by Muscongus Sound and bay, and on the west by Damariscotta River. Then I traced out the location of a few houses, and found these words, "The farm of Joshua Soule bought by Alexander McLain." "That is this place," I exclaimed aloud. It was now time to perform my morning chores, and I walked toward the barn. The farm hands were already busy, some were caring for the cattle, while others were preparing the ground for early planting. . . . Just a week has flown since we welcomed the coming of spring. I 46 Maine in History and Romance wish I could leave out what happened in the meantime, but this history- would be incomplete without it. As I think of it my heart sinks within me, and I feel as if an arrow had pierced my soul. I must leave here or I shall die ! In spite of my youth I will go out to fight for my country. I be- lieve it the only way to get relief. The only way to sink myself into for- getfulness. If Commodore Tucker goes out again, I will go with him, if nothing more than as cabin boy. Now for the sad, cruel accident. I will tell it as simply as possible, and then try to forget it forever. I was awakened in the night by scratching and whining. I knew it was Jennie's dog. I rose and dressed quickly. Boxer's piteous appeals increased and there was a strong smell of smoke. I scarcely had finished dressing when my ears were assailed by heart-rending screams. I ran out of my room and as I hastened along the corridor, saw Mr. Riddell rush into the unfortunate girl's apartment, and carry her out in his arms. Jennie had adopted the very objectionable practice of reading by the light of a candle after retiring in bed, and this was the consequence. "Hasten to arouse Mistress Given and Wallace and all the servants," exclaimed Mr. Riddell excitedly, "The flames are increasing. We can save nothing, we will be lucky to escape with our lives." Jennie was taken to the nearest neighbor's, and was so badly burned she died at 9 o'clock the next evening. The others of the family were rescued but the house was entirely consumed and with it my uncle's library and correspondence and also the records of the church. Aunt Mary returned home taking Wallace and me with her. Uncle Alex returned from Scotland with a mind in no condition to endure such losses. He wanted to blame Aunt Mary, but didn't dare to. Now he had a reason for restlessly pacing the floor. "I had told Jennie time and again not to read novels," he said angrily. I knew that he was holding back his temper with difficulty, and that he wished to say some bitter thing to Aunt Mary, but her dignified attitude checked him. "I loved Jennie," she said, in a choked voice, "and would have been willing to die in her place, could I have saved her." "Jennie suffered thru her own disobedience. It was hard, but hell- fire is harder!" Thus speaking, Uncle Alex left the room — Aunt Mary dropped her head in her hands, and wept aloud. "I never thought he would say such words ! And think of it, Alex, he has placed a gulf between Jennie and Heaven !" Then she told me of the death of the little slave. "You know that the past winter has been a severe one, and it was ushered in by an autumn of snow and sleet. "One night, a few weeks before your arrival from Scotland, the The Story of Bristol 47 cows not coming home, the colored girl, poorly clad, was sent to find them. In the evening she came in declaring that she was not able to find them; but your uncle sternly ordered her to continue the search until she should be successful. The poor girl with the tears freezing upon her face, left his pres- ence and in the morning was found dead by the side of a fence, not far from the house. It was supposed that, being much fatigued, she lay down to rest herself, and froze to death." Chapter V — A Cruise Against the Enemy. A few weeks later, when time had lent its healing influence, I said to Aunt Mary, "I think we have misunderstood Uncle Alex. He has high ideals which he is trying to carry out and would sacrifice anything for the sake of his high principles. Perhaps he deserves pity rather than blame." Aunt Mary looked surprised and said nothing, but in the days that followed I could see a change. She was more patient, more sympathetic towards him. The gulf between Uncle Alex and Aunt Mary was per- ceptibly narrowing; but only a few days had passed when my mind was occupied by weightier matters. What we had long feared had at last happened; the English schooner Bream, of eight guns, and crew of one hundred men, which accompanied the seventy-four Rattler, had begun to harass Bristol, alarming the inhabitants, carrying off cattle, burning fish- ermen and coasters and keeping the people in jeopardy and watchfulness lest their homes should be invaded. The people were thoroly aroused by these outrages. There was great excitement all over the town, and wherever several met these griev- ances were discussed. Mr. Robert Given's was a favorite place. "The enemy is getting bold, we ought to teach them a lesson," said Mr. Given. "If we decide upon such an enterprise and want a com- mander. Commodore Tucker is our man, he is a bold and successful fighter." "Yes, he's our man," said Mr. Sprowl warmly. "He is as anxious for the private welfare of his fellow citizens, as he was for the defence and honor of his country." "You remember those Squatter troubles, here in Bristol?" continued Sprowl, "What a deep interest the commodore showed in the adjustment of the suits in which he and his fellow-townsmen were entangled." "Yes," said my uncle, "they have shown their appreciation by re- peatedly electing him as one of the selectmen of this town, and by fre- quently sending him to the Legislature." The following Sunday a number of men met together in a store at Muscongus Harbor to see what could be done, Robert Given, Walter Sprowl, my uncle and myself being among them. "I should send for Commodore Tucker," said Mr. Given. A messen- 48 Maine in History and Romance ger was dispatched. In a short time Tucker arrived and immediately in- quired, "What is the trouble here?" "The trouble is with the enemy — Commodore, who ought to have a severe drubbing for their impertinence," answered Mr. Given, "and we are ready to give it to them, providing you will be our commander." This declaration was met with a cheer. "Would it not be possible to capture her by such a force as could be raised on the spot?" continued Mr. Given. "That is a very good suggestion," said Commodore Tucker. "I strongly advise that such an enterprise should be instantly started." There was no lack of volunteers for the service; and before twenty- four hours, the sloop Increase had been engaged, and a crew of forty- five men, myself among them. Later the crew was somewhat increased, and our hero was chosen captain. Before sailing, Tucker called together his little band of ad- venturers, and addressed them in these words: "Shipmates, the agree- ment which you have put your names to is voluntary, and not binding in law. If any one chooses, he has a right to withdraw his name. "We wish no one to go with us — for there may be fighting — without his own full and free consent. Now is the time to make up your minds." There was a solemn pause. Everybody looked at me with pitying looks on account of my youth. I thought of the past few weeks of suf- fering and felt no fear. Frank Hammond, poor fellow, saw in his mind's eye the horrors of war, and he stepped out of the circle. "May I have my gun?" lie asked. "No," said his comrades, "that is pledged; you must leave it," and he went away amidst the hisses of the crowd. "He ought to have his gun," said Billy Johnson. "What do you mean?" asked Andy Smith. "I mean that he ought to have it with the muzzle pointed towards him." This was met with a loud cheer. "A man who cannot be inspired by the example of our heroic com- mander, must be depraved," I said when I could make myself heard. "Well said, my brave boy," responded Andy, patving me on the shoulder. Everything being in readiness, we passed out of the harbor and steered east, in hopes of meeting the Bream, but only to be disappointed. At the end of two days our supply of provisions becoming scanty, we prepared to make our way home, a little discouraged at our want of success. As we came around Pemaquid point we saw a sail some distance to the east. Tucker ordered all his men below, except the regular sailors to man- ao'e the vessel, and shaped his course as if aiming to make his escape. But soon tacking ship he suddenly bore down on the craft, at the same time ordering the American flag to be hoisted, and all his men to take Monument Erected by State of Maine to Commodore Tucker Grave of Commodore Tucker The Story of Bristol 49 their proper positions on deck, the object being to obHge the enemy to fight at close quarters, which in his condition was an important point to be gained. As the vessels neared each other, the firing began, and the sails of both were riddled. "Andy Smith," exclaimed the commodore in loud tones, "take up that kedge anchor at the bow, and stand ready. When the word is given, throw it as a grappling iron over the gunwale." Andy was remarkable for his height — six feet, six inches, large in bulk, and of a swarthy complexion — a terrible looking champion in battle. He lifted the iron on his back, and stood ready, and seeing his chance from the near approach of the vessel, cried out, "Commodore, shall I heave?" The men on the English vessel, seeing this giant-looking fellow ready to throw this huge anchor on board, ran below crying, "Satan is coming after our vessel sure." The captain seeing that the Yankees would soon grapple and board him, struck his colors and surrendered. The prize was taken to Muscongus Harbor, and the crew deposited in the jail at Wiscasset. The commodore, who was hospitable, exceed- ingly fond of company, ever in gladsome spirits, and ready to make others happy, invited his Yankee crew to spend the following evening at his home. There was feasting, story-telling and music. Billy Johnson brought his violin, and Commodore and Mrs. Tucker danced the stately minuet, which was considered a fashionable accomplishment. The former, tho sixty-seven years of age, was surprisingly light of foot and very graceful. Later in the evening Mrs. Tucker sang several beautiful songs. "We will now hear from our brave boys," said Mr. Given, with a comical bow and wave of the hand toward the group, "who will sing some verses composed by Andy Smith and set to music by Billy Johnson." Johnson took up his violin and several of the boys gave the old song which was sung for years after at social gatherings and around the home firesides — I will conclude this historical sketch with the verses — more as a specimen of the spirit of the times than of the beauty of the poetry — altho it may compare favorably with some of the old English ballads. I. On the 26th of April, it plainly doth appear. The brave boys of Bristol fitted out a privateer. In command of Captain Tucker — a sloop both neat and trim, And we set out to cruise the seas, all for to take the Bream. Chorus : — So cheer up, my lively lads, and never be it said. That the brave boys of Bristol were ever yet afraid. 50 Maine in History and Romance II. We cruised the shores for several days and nothing did appear; At length our brave commander resolved to homeward steer; It was on Friday morning, and clear was the sky, And as we were returning, a sail we did espy. Chorus. III. Then rose our bold commander, and to his men did say "My boys be all stout-hearted and do not fail to-day; Our enemy's before us, and after her we'll run. For I'm resolved to take her before the setting sun," Chorus, IV. Then we bore away for her, and up to her did come; We hauled down our foresail, and gave her a gun ; 'Twas broadside and broadside, we showed her Yankee play, Till our enemy got frightened and tried to run away. Chorus. V. Then they quit their quarters, and down below they run; We shot away their halliards, and down their colors come. Their captain then stepped forward and waving his hand. He cried, "I must surrender; this I can no longer stand!" Chorus. VI. Then we hoisted out our boats, on board of her did go; We made them all prisoners, and ordered them below; We hoisted Yankee colors and hauled the British down, And when we did examine her, she proved to be the Crown. Chorus. VII. "Now," said our brave commander, "we'll bring our prize ashore, For we're the boys that fear no noise, tho cannons loudly roar; And quickly we will clear the coast of all these British boys, For we will fight 'em till we die, and never mind their noise." Chorus. VIII. Now we have fought this Britisher, till she is overcome; And God bless Captain Tucker, this day for what he's done. Likewise his officers, and all his valiant crew — God grant that they may prosper in everything they do. Chorus. Norridgewock in Congress By FLORENCE WAUGH DANFORTH l^^^g:;^ ORRIDGEWOCK, situated about midway between the Bombazine Rapids and Skowhegan Falls, is one of the historic towns of the Kennebec Valley; even its early set- tlement by the red man was of more than ordinary in- terest, for the French Government sent Father Rasles, a Jesuit Missionary and a cultured gentleman, to instruct them in the rites and ceremonies of the Catholic faith. The "Norridgewogs" regarded Father Rasles as a special messenger sent to them by the Great Spirit. They had a chapel at Old Point, built of the branches of hemlock trees and covered with the bark of white birch. Here they assembled to cele- brate mass; the Indians sang in their native dialect and were most devout in their religious duties. But the hatred between the French and English grew stronger, and finally the edict went forth that the "Norridgewogs" must be exter- minated. Falling upon the little band while they were at chapel, it was an easy matter to overpower them. Bombazine, their chief, was slain, and Father Rasles was shot just outside the chapel door. This was in 1720. The land roundabout remained a wilderness un- til 1772, when the first log cabin was built; others followed, but the growth was slow. In 1779 there were only ten settlers, but they had enough public spirit to carry!' on a school. In 1788 the town was in- corporated with three hundred and twenty inhabitants, and in 1820, when Maine became a state, Norridgewock had a population of fourteen hun- dred and fifty-four. Those hardy pioneers, who came from Ashby, Townsend, Pepperill and thereabouts in Massachusetts and settled along the Kennebec River, displayed the good old New England stock, not only in their courage to endure hardships, but in their desire for education for their children and a place of religious worship for their families. The year following the incorporation of the town, a committee was appointed to select a desirable spot for a meeting-house, but the plan did not materialize till the sum- mer of 1794, and even then remained in an unfinished state until 1807. I have spoken of these early efiforts for school and preaching privi- leges because they seem to be forming the shadowy background of liter- ature and culture which, in years to come, expanded so wonderfully and made Norridgewock stand out prominently as one of the leading towns of Maine in her gift to the State and nation of so many eminent men and women. During the ninety-five years that Maine has been a State, sixteen years of that time, Norridgewock has furnished for her district a repre- 52 Maine in History and Romance sentative in Congress. Only three years after Maine was separated from Massachusetts, Hon. David Kidder of Norridgewock was a Federalist representative to the eighteenth and nineteenth Congresses. Mr. Kidder, a native of Dresden, Maine, was born December 8, 1787. He received his education from private tutors, and was so well grounded in the classics that during his whole lifetime he was a great reader and lover of the solid literature of the day. He studied law, was admitted to the bar, and commenced practice in Canaan,^ now Skowhegan, in 181 1. Shortly after he married Lucy Weston, daughter of Joseph and Sarah (Emery) Weston of that town. In 1814 Mr. Kidder was asked to deliver the Fourth of July address at Bloomfield, and, so great was his success, a copy of the oration was re- spectfully solicited for publication. There was ample material for the display of oratory — the times being not unlike the present — wars were raging both sides the Atlantic. The United States was at war with Great Britain; the first French Revolution was just over; Napoleon, hav- ing aspired to conquer the world, was exiled at Elba. The greater part of his oration, however, is devoted to the war with England and to the danger of an insurrection in New England. He attributes the cause of the second war with Great Britain to England's jealousy of our commer- cial prosperity and a desire for despotic sway on the ocean. But Mr. Kidder forecasts success for the United States; how can it be otherwise? when, as he says, "We have the most exalted confidence in our illustrious President.^ Shielded by his own virtues and encircled by the love and veneration of millions, the malevolence of foreign and domestic foes will assail him in vain." In 1817, Mr. Kidder removed to Bloomfield, and in 1821 to Norridgewock. Besides being a Representative to Congress, he served his own State and county in several offices, such as County At- torney for Somerset County (1811-1823), an unusually long term of years for any one man to serve in that office, and as Representative to the Maine Legislature from Milburn in 1829. In the early days military of- fices were looked upon as high offices of trust. Mr. Kidder was captain of the first Light Infantry, north of Augusta, and field officer in the militia. When the Aroostook War^ broke out, Mr. Levi Weston of Skowhegan, who was then about twelve years of age, remembers watch- ing the company drill, and while Mr. Kidder was prevented from going with the company, on account of lameness caused by an illness in early life, Mr. Weston recalls hearing his voice giving orders while having a general oversight of the company. Mr. Kidder in his younger days was fond of horse-racing and not above taking a chance at betting, as some of his papers of a hundred iCanaan was incorporated June 18, 1788; Bloomfield, February 6, 1814; Milburn February 5, 1828; Milburn changed to Skowhegan, March 26, 1836; Bloomfield annexed to Skowhegan, February 19, 1860. 2JamPR Madison, 1809-1817. , , ,, , , 3ln 1837 tho Aroostook War was caused by a dispute over the boundary line between Maine and New Brunswick. It was finally settled by arbitration. Norridgewock in Congress 53 years ago show. Mr. Eben Weston, in his "Letters on the Early Settlers of Canaan,"^ says: "Over seventy years ago, I witnessed a horse-race in company with a large number of the most respectable gentlemen of the village ... I remember only the Honorable David Kidder and two other men. The mention of David Kidder at the horse-race," continues Mr. Weston, "recalls an incident. On the fourteenth of December, 1814, a robin was seen by several persons in Skowhegan Village. Without call- ing attention in any way to his remark, in his usual quiet tone and man- ner Mr. Kidder said: 'Treaty of Peace between United States and Great Britain signed this day.' In those days of slow sailing vessels, it was near the last of February that the news came that the Treaty of Peace was signed on that day." Over one hundred years have passed, and we readers of the present day are still in doubt as to what connection the robin had with Mr. Kidder's powers of divination. We are in doubt, also, as to who won the following bet between D. Kidder and J. McClellan, but, as Mr. Samuel Weston of Skowhegan held the stakes, we are indebted to him for the privilege of reading this doc- ument^ of a century ago: "It is a bet of ten dollars that Benjamin W. Crowninshield, who has lately been appointed Secretary of the Navy, is the same per- son who commanded the vessel that brought the bodies of Law- rence and Ludlow from Halifax. Kidder takes the affirmative and McClellan the negative. D. KIDDER J. McCLELLAN." Dec. 29, 1814. After Mr. Kidder's return from Washington, he made his home per- manently in Milburn." He built a law-office on the site now occupied by our local newspaper, the Independent-Reporter, and became quite a noted character about town. In stature he was tall and spare, slightly stooping, with dark blue eyes and black hair. Dressed in a long, black, broadcloth coat and a tall silk hat, with cane in hand, he was a pleasing and familiar sight, for he was a favorite with young and old. Mr, Kidder's law practice was never large; being a peace-loving citi- zen, he usually counseled his clients to settle their disputes and keep out 4These letters are in the Free Public Library at Skowhegan. 5The original of this document is in the possession of Mr. Levi "Weston, Skowhegan, Maine. Bin the list of Representatives to Congress in the Maine Register, Mr. Kidder's residence is given as Skowhegan, but in Allen's History of Norridge- wock, published in 1849 (before Mr. Kidder's death), he says: "After his services expired, he returned to Skowhegan" (page 103). Mr. Allen says "re- turned" for the reason that before Mr. Kidder's residence in Norridgewock he was a resident of what is now Skowhegan. See also History of Norridgewock and Canaan, by J. W. Hanson, 1849, page 330, in which it is stated that Mr. Kidder removed to Skowhegan in 1817, to Norridgewock in 1821, to Skowhegan in 1827. 54 Maine in History and Romance of litigation. Hon. D. D. Stewart of Saint Albans remembers seeing him often at the Court House in Norridgewock, but never recalls his trying any cases. About 1840, the Washingtonian temperance movement was started. Mr. Kidder, with his ear to the ground for everything that should be a social betterment to the community, became at once interested, was made president of the Society in Skowhegan, and continued to hold that office until his death. Mr. J. W. Hanson'' says of Mr. Kidder: "He has filled important trusts and occupies an elevated positioni in the community." Mr. Kidder died November i, i860, and is buried in Skowhegan. * * * Again in 1831, Norridgewock furnished a Representative to Con- gress; this time Dr. James Bates was the people's choice. Dr. Bates, the eldest son of Solomon Bates and Mary (Macomber) Bates, was born in Greene, Maine, Sept. 24, 1789. His mother was a Friend, and of that fact Dr. Bates was always proud. He acquired a common-school educa- tion, such as the times afforded. At the age of twenty-one, he began the study of medicine, as a pupil of Dr. Charles Smith of Fayette, Maine, and afterwards studied with Dr. Ariel Mann of Hallowell, Maine. He took a course of instruction at Harvard Medical School and immediately after was appointed surgeon's mate in Colonel Denny McCobb's regiment of volunteer infantry in 1813. In 1814 he was appointed hospital surgeon-mate, and served on the Niag- ara frontier until the close of the war, in Colonel^ Winfield Scott's brigade. Dr. Bates was present at the surrender of Fort Erie and at the battles of Chippewa and Bridgewater. At the close of the war in 181 5 he was left in charge of the general military hospital near Buffalo, with seven hundred sick and wounded, and was the ranking medical officer at that time remaining in the service. He left the army in May, 1815, and entered into co-partnership with his former instructor, Dr. Mann of Hallowell, Maine, for the practice of his profession. On July 2/, 1815, he married Mary Jones, daughter of Capt. Sylvester Jones of Fayette, with whom he lived happily sixty years. In 1819 he removed to Norridgewock, where for twenty-six years he was engaged in an extensive practice of medicine and surgery, which included several counties of the State. For his time he was considered a daring and successful surgeon, having performed what are considered capital operations in surgery in ten of the sixteen counties. In 1845 he was appointed Superintendent of the Maine Insane Asylum at Augusta, in which capacity he served six years, until that in- stitution was destroyed by fire, at which time he was commissioned by the Governor and his Council to visit all the public institutions of note as far south as Virginia, with a view to obtaining information as to the THistory of the old towns, Norridgewock and Canaan, by J. W. Hanson, page 342. sAfterwards General Winfleld Scott. Norridgewock in Congress 55 best methods of heating and ventilation, preparatory to rebuilding the hospital. He made an elaborate report,'^ which was made use of by the State in the new building. After spending one year in Gardiner, Maine, he removed to Fair- field, where he remained in practice till 1858, when, at the request of many citizens of Yarmouth, Maine, he removed to that town, and was engaged for over ten years in the active duties of his profession. Dr. Bates was unusually skilful in whatever he undertook; not only was he a great surgeon, but in his study of agriculture, which he carried on as an aside, he made many original experiments. In the home he was all that one could wish for, a good talker himself he naturally drew cul- tivated people around him. During his life at Norridgewock, Lydia Maria Francis (afterwards Mrs. Child of abolitionist fame), who in her }'outh lived next door to him, was a frequent and valued visitor at his home. He was a man of very strong convictions ; in politics a democrat ; in religious faith a Congregationalist ; kind of heart, keen of wit, when occasion demanded he had a sharp tongue; in short, he was just the sort of man to make warm friends and bitter enemies. Dr. Bates was unusu- ally clever in verbal expression, as, for example, when sitting for his por- trait^** and deploring "the smile used in sitting for pictures only," he said to the artist: "Don't, I beg of you, send me simpering down to pos- terity." In person he was tall and spare, with a vigorous frame, but small feet, of which it is said in his youth he was not ashamed. His eyes were gray and piercing, but with a humorous twinkle. Miss Sarah Clark, his niece, says of him: "I knew Dr. Bates chiefly in his brave, serene old age, when he was very deaf and almost blind. At that time he cultivated an attractive flower-garden, and after he could no longer distinguish plants from weeds a devoted little granddaughter used to dog his footsteps to guide his hoeing. Finally he became totally blind, but I am told that even then he would not be conquered by despondency." Dr. Bates died at Yarmouth at the age of ninety-three, and was brought to Norridgewock for burial. * * * In 1843, Norridgewock again furnished a Representative for her dis- trict at Washington, this time for two terms (1843-1845) (1849-1851). Mr. Cnllen Sawtelle, son of Captain Richard and Sally (Ware) Sawtelle, was born in Norridgewock, September 25, 1805; graduated from Bowdoin College in 1825; studied law and began practice in his native town. He was Register of Probate (1830-1838), and member of the State Senate (1843-1844). oProm the record of the meeting' of the Governor and Council held April 18, 1851, it appears that the report of Dr. James Bates was received, presented and ordered on file. But recent search for the report was fruitless. loThis painting is in the possession of Mrs. Loren Dresser, Berlin, New Hampshire. 66 Maine in History and Romance Mr. Sawtelle's life was made up of the most interesting and varied events; it may well be said of him he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He had the honor of being one of the first men from his town to receive a college degree, and was also fortunate enough to receive his diploma with a class of men who later became prominent in law, litera- ture and the pulpit; the most notable of whom were: Henry W. Long- fellow, poet; Nathaniel Hawthorne, author; John S. C. Abbott, historian; James W. Bradbury, United States Senator from Maine; George B. Cheever, clergyman and author; Jonathan Cilley, representative to Congress from Maine; Samuel P. Benson, representative to Congress from Maine; etc. Mr. Sawtelle completed his college course at the age of nineteen, and after spending a few weeks under the parental roof, announced to his father that he wanted the loan of one hundred dollars, that he intended to spend the entire amount in travel ; then to work his way back and bring his father the equivalent of his loan to him. He travelled leisurely as far south as Richmond, Virginia, when he found his funds were running low and he must bestir himself to earn some money. Accordingly he advertised for a position as tutor and was engaged by Colonel Scott to fit his two sons for college, with the under- standing that he should work only four or five hours each day; that a saddle-horse should always be at his disposal and an intelligent servant should attend to his personal wants. Colonel Scott was the owner of one hundred and fifty slaves, the greater part of whom had descended to him by inheritance. During Mr. Sawtelle's stay in Colonel Scott's'^ family he had a most excellent oppor- tunity to study the institution of slavery, and to realize the insecure tenure of life of the slave. He relates the following incident as typical of some of the cases coming under his observation. ''Met a bright, in- telligent, colored boy one morning. I said to him: 'Whose boy are you?' 'Dunno ! I belonged to Massa Brown this morning. He got to playing poker with another man, and I dunno whose I now is.' " At the end of the year, Mr. Sawtelle arrived home, presented his fa- ther one hundred dollars in gold ; had besides a gold watch in his pocket and a trunk full of clothing of better quality than he had ever possessed at any previous or later date. He was then ready to study law and entered the office of Judge Green of Athens, Maine, where he remained a year and a half; from there he went to Greenfield, Massachusetts, and spent one year in the office of Hon. Daniel Wells. In 1829, he returned to his native town and opened a law office, where he spent several years practicing his profes- sion under most favorable auspices. In 1828 Mr. Sawtelle cast his first vote for Andrew Jackson of Tennessee for President of the United States; his first battle-cry polit- iiMr. Sawtelle records that Colonel Scott's slaves were treated with great kindness; it was from general observation that Mr. Sawtelle drew his con- clusions in regard to the slavery question. a in Cq Norridgewock in Congress 57 ically was: "Hurrah! for Old Hickory!" Of Andrew Jackson Mr. Sawtelle says: He was truly a hero and a patriot, and his superior qualifi- cations were equally manifest in all situations, in peace and in war; in the Cabinet and in the field. In that memorable battle of New Orleans,^^ when the British were besieging "The Cres- cent City," General Jackson utilized a large number of cotton bales for strengthening the redoubts on his line of defense; a part of said bales belonged to a Frenchman, who, fearing they might be injured, called upon General Jackson to demand the de- livery of the same back to him. The General asked the French- man if he were employed in any military service. To his reply that he was not, the General directed that a musket be put into his hands and ordered him to the front, remarking dryly that none had a better right to fight than those who had property to defend. General Jackson's last will and testament contained one bequest which could not fail to be of interest to the nation many years after. It read as follows: "I bequeath to my beloved nephew, Andrew Jackson Donel- son, the elegant sword presented to me by the State of Ten- nessee, with the injunction that he fail not to use it, when neces- sary, in support and protection of the Glorious Union, and in the protection of all the constitutional rights of our beloved country, should they ever be assailed by foreign enemies or domestic traitors." It was reported that this sword was ruthlessly unsheathed and used by his nephew, at an early stage during the War of the Rebellion, to stab the very vitals of the Republic. Mr. Sawtelle's great admiration for Andrew Jackson and his in- terest in national afifairs naturally tended to enlarge his political horizon. While he was successful in his law practice, still he longed for a larger field — ambitious young lawyer that he was — and after serving his county as Register of Probate for eight years, his next move was a seat in the Senate. Here he laid the foundation for his future career at Wash- ington. In 1841 Mr. Sawtelle was unanimously nominated by the democratic county convention as its candidate for the State Senate, and although Somerset County at that time had a large whig majority, he was elected by a very flattering vote, and re-elected to that same body at the next session. During his second term of service in the State Senate a bill for the redistricting of the State for members of Congress was intro- duced, and for six weeks of the session this bill became the all-absorbing question, and was daily the subject of debate in both branches of the Legislature. i2Jan. 8, 1815. 58 Maine in History and Romance During this time Mr. Sawtelle was prominent in shaping the result that followed and the counties of Somerset and Waldo were classed to- gether to elect a member of Congress. Since the county of Somerset was whig, and the county of Waldo largely democratic, by this classifica- tion the district became democratic by a large majority. From Mr. Saw- telle's demonstrated ability to carry his own county (which had an accus- tomed political majority against his party), and on account of his con- spicuous services to his party in obtaining a new classification so favor- able to it, he became its logical nominee. Accordingly, in 1843, he was called to the twenty-ninth Congress, which he says was a memorable one. Never since the organization of the United States Government had there been more distinguished and influential statesmen, both in the Senate and House of Representatives. In the former were Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, John C. Calhoun and Thomas H. Benton, who were called "the four kings of the national pack." In the House of Representatives were John Quincy Adams, Andrew Johnson, Hannibal Hamlin, Alexander and Thaddeus Stevens and a score of other brilliant men. Mr. Sawtelle in his Memoirs records his great admiration of Daniel Webster, of whom he says he had no superior, or it may be safely said no equal, and who battered down all opposition whenever and wherever it was made to him. But, he continued, notwithstanding Mr. Webster pos- sessed genius and intellect and a power of mind that could master all great subjects, still it was said of him that in his knowledge of minor affairs and transactions of every-day life, he was greatly deficient in many ways. The following humorous example illustrates Mr. Sawtelle's mean- ing. Daniel Webster and his wife were invited to attend a social func- tion in Boston. A sumptuous collation was prepared. Among other dainty viands were nice little apple-tarts of which Mr. Webster partook with great relish. On his way home Mr. Webster commented on them to his wife, saying: "What delicious little pies those were; can't we have some?" To which his wife replied: "Yes, but I must have some green sour apples with which to make them." The next morning Mr. Webster sallied forth for his morning walk towards Faneuil Market in quest of sour apples. He espied an old man seated on a market wagon, and accosted him thus : "Have you some sour apples, and what is your price?" The man replied: "Yes, sour enough to set your teeth on edge, ninety bushels early pippins, fifty cents a bushel." "Very well," said Mr. Webster, "I will take them all. Go directly to my house with them and call at my office for your pay." It is quite probable the great statesman had all the little pies he wanted for several weeks. At the close of his second term of Congress, Mr. Sawtelle returned to his native town, quite content, as he expressed himself, to enjoy hence- forth the quiet life of a civilian. After the mild climate of Washington, the extreme cold of a winter in Maine did not appeal to him; for this reason he decided to seek a warmer habitation. Norridgewock in Congress 59 With his usual luck, a large mercantile house called him to New York, to take charge of their credit system and to aid in such matters as might be in litigation in courts, etc. Here his opportunities were excel- lent for travel, as his duties often called him to the extreme South and West. He remained in active business as long as he cared to and then retired to Englewood, New Jersey, to enjoy a quiet and serene old age, tenderly cared for by his two daughters, who still survive him. But although retired from active service, his life was by no means over. A rare treat was in store for him. It was his wonderful privilege to be present at the fiftieth anniversary of that famous class of 1825 at Bowdoin College, when Henry W. Longfellow delivered his memorable poem, Morituri Salutamus, and Rev. Dr. Cheever gave an oration. Mr. Sawtelle records a most pleasant incident which happened to him on his way to Brunswick, Maine. His usual good luck attended him, and his reunion began on the railroad train. To quote direct from his Memoirs: "Hardly was I comfortably seated in the car, bound for Brunswick, when an elderly gentleman with white hair, flowing beard and placid countenance entered the car and attracted my attention. He gracefully bowed to me and I returned the salutation, as he took the vacant seat next my own. The stranger proved to be of a social turn of mind as well as myself, and as the train moved on we grew more confidential and I re- marked : 'I am going to Bowdoin College to attend the semi-centennial anniversary of my class of 1825. Our class numbered thirty-eight; but only one-third of that number now survive. We who still live are old men now. I shall meet there Henry W. Longfellow, John S. C. Abbott, Horatio Bridge and others, all of whom I knew so well and loved so much. I wonder if we shall know each other after so long a separation.' To my astonishment my travelling companion replied: 'Friend, look me in the eye and see if you know who I am. I, too, am going on the same mission, but I have not the slightest idea who you may be, although the intonations of your voice carry me back fifty years and I am struggling to place you.' In perfect silence we sat face to face for more than a full minute; then I said to him, 'I cannot for my life name or place you.' Finally my companion said hesitatingly : T think this must be Cullen Sawtelle,' and as I assented, he grasped my hand, exclaiming aloud: 'John S. C. Abbott has met again the dear old friend of his youth.' " Arriving at Brunswick, our travellers found eleven out of the thir- teen surviving members were able to be present. They went out into the wide world when life was young and sweet, but after fifty years they returned to their Alma Mater, gray-haired veterans. Many was the touching incident related by each to the other of their past lives. Of that wonderful class meeting, Mr. Sawtelle says it was a scene that baffled all description; the very silence of the moment was almost painful; the audience was made up of the most distinguished men in the country. After a prayer by the only surviving teacher of the class dur- 60 Maine in History and Romance ing their college days, Mr. Longfellow arose and took for his subject the words of the Roman Gladiator addressed to the Imperial Caesar: "O Caesar, we who are about to die, Salute you ! was the Gladiator's cry In the Arena, standing face to face With death and with the Roman populace." Just before leaving, the surviving eleven gathered in a retired college room for the last time, talked together for a half hour as of old, agreed to exchange photographs and prayed together, then stood for a moment in silence under the old Liberty Tree, took each other by the hand and separated, knowing full well that Old Bowdoin would never again witness a gathering of the famous class of 1825. At the dedication of Memorial Hall at Bowdoin College, July 12, 1882, services were held in memory of the late Professor Henry W. Longfellow. It was again Mr. Sawtelle's good luck to be present. Sev- eral distinguished men spoke on that occasion, but the best address was said to be by Hon. Cullen Sawtelle. His remarks produced the greatest effect of any of the speakers. ^^ After* speaking of the object of this Memorial Hall, he described a meeting between the historian, John S. C. Abbott and himself, after fifty years' separation, in a manner that drew tears from the eyes of half the audience. Although over eighty years of age, Mr. Sawtelle again visited Wash- ington.^* "An aged Congressman again looks upon a changed scene in Washington. A tall, white-haired old gentleman came on the floor of the Llouse yesterday afternoon. He looked around and found, like Rip Van Winkle on his return from the Catskill Mountains, that there was no one now in the House of Representatives who knew him, and yet forty years ago, in the twenty-ninth and thirty-first Congresses, Representative Saw- telle, from the Waldo District in Maine, was a prominent figure on the floor of the House. Neither in the Senate nor House did he see a single member who knew him as a member of the Twenty-ninth Congress. This shows how short and changeful is a political career in our system of Government." The year following, Mr. Sawtelle passed "into the land of shadows," November 11, 1887, and was buried at Englewood, New Jersey. * * * Again Norridgewock furnished a representative for her district in Congress, this time for three consecutive terms (1877-1883). Stephen Decatur Lindsay, the son of Captain Melzar and Melinda (Cannon) Lindsey, was born in Norridgewock in 1828. His father was for many years a teacher of rural schools, his son being one of his pupils; but the young boy soon outgrew his surroundings, and his father sent him to Bloomtield Academy, then under the instruction of the late Honorable isPortland Press, July 12, 1882. 14 Washington Evening News, Jan. 23, 1886. Norridgewock in Congress 61 Stephen Coburn. His teacher soon recognized the boy's natural ability and they formed a life-long friendship. After his graduation, the young student returned to Norridgewock, and entered upon the study of law in the office of John S. Abbott. Mr. Lindsey afterwards bought this office and was still occupying it at the time of his death. Having passed a most creditable examination in 1853, he was admitted to the bar and re- sided ever after in his native town — in every sense of the word a true son of Norridgewock. He was twice married, his first wife being Sarah, daughter of Dr. Amos Townsend of Norridgewock; his second wife was Mary Clark (sister of Sophie May and Penn Shirley), also of Norridge- wock. Mr. Lindsey avoided rather than sought public office, but important positions — town, state and national — were thrust upon him. At the age of twenty-eight, he was chosen a member of the Legislature and was given a prominent position upon the Judiciary Committee; in 1868-9-70, he was a member of the State Senate, being president of that body in 1869; in i860 he was a delegate to the National Republican Convention which nominated Abraham Lincoln, and again in 1868, when General Grant was nominated; in 1874 he was a member of the Executive Council of Maine, and in 1877 was elected to Congress. All these offices came to him unsought; only a few months before his death he was urged to become a candidate for a position upon the Supreme Bench, but he absolutely refused, saying that an office wasn't worth while if one had to work for it. Mr. Lindsey was never a poli- tician in the modern sense of the word; he abhorred all the low-down tricks of that profession: with him it was a square deal always. His true sphere was law. Endowed naturally with a legal mind and strong mental organization, he was always happiest when engaged in "unravelling abstract questions of law." He never took an advantage in order to carry a point; it was his custom to deal with every situation in perfect candor; to appeal to reason rather than prejudice; to swing the pendulum in the direction of reconciliation as far as possible, and when- ever it seemed practicable he sought a settlement rather than litigation. More than one member of the Somerset Bar has dryly remarked that if all the legal profession were like Lindsey, the lawyers would starve. It has been said also that many a time has a client turned from him in dis- gust on being urged to seek pacific measures, and returned in repentance at the end of a costly lawsuit. But when he did undertake a lawsuit, he entered into it to win. His methods of examining witnesses were simple but direct. He grouped the facts logically in his own mind, and quickly decided what the truth should naturally be; then he questioned the witness, approaching him in such a friendly way that he succeeded in getting the truth presented to the jury before the witness was aware of what he had done. Mr. Lindsey never attempted to display his knowledge of law, nor to use flowery language; he aimed only to aid the jury to understand his 62 Maine in History and Romance argument. The secret of his great success was the fact that the jury- always had confidence in him, knowing that he would not misstate the law or the facts of the case. Being a public man, Mr. Lindsey was called upon to make many political speeches, though always under protest. During the Garfield campaign he was most active, speaking day after day, afternoon and evening. But perhaps the most typical of all his speeches,^^ and the one that will stand out most prominently when all others are forgotten, was one given at Coburn Hall, Skowhegan, Maine. It happened in this way. A big open-air meeting was interrupted by a pouring rain, and the people were obliged to seek close quarters under cover. Several distinguished speakers addressed the restless crowd. At last Mr. Lindsey arose — he had but little to say, but as usual his words were most fitting. With great calmness of tone he told the people that notwithstanding their disappointment over the rain, it had done Somer- set County more good than twenty such meetings;' that it would give good harvests and result in general prosperity for all, and an outdoor meeting could have done no more. "The words came as a benediction to the whole exercises of the day and were widely spoken of in many a household." Just as Edward Everett's two-hour speech at Gettysburg, polished and elegant in every particular, has long since been forgotten, but Presi- dent Lincoln's never, so not only the speeches but the very names, even, of those political speakers at Coburn Hall have passed out of memory, but the plain, simple, practical words of the Honorable S. D. Lindsey are still remembered. It may well be said of him: "Though dead, he still lives." Of his home life, there is so much that is sweet and beautiful. He was singularly gentle and winning in manner, and particularly fond of the society of his family and friends. His doors were always open; for him society had no caste ; it was to him a moment of pleasure and delight to extend a hearty handshake to the tiller of the soil who, soon after Mr. Lindsey's return from his first term in Congress, drove up to his door with his ox-team, and, grasping his old townsman's hand, said: "Hanged if I didn't think I'd go up to see Steve, long's I heard he'd got home." At that very time Mr. Lindsey had distinguished guests from out of town, but his parlor was large enough and his heart warm enough to put them all at their ease. Mr. Lindsey's sister-in-law, Miss Sarah Clark, gives this personal tribute: "He was the most amiable man I ever knew, and the kindest of husbands and fathers. And his son, now living in California, when in- terviewed as to what stood out most prominently in his mind in regard to his father's early training of his children, quoted his father's favorite precept: 'If you can't say anything good of a person, say nothing.'" 151 am indebted to the Somerset Reporter (May 3, 1884) for the report of the speech. Norridgewock in Congress 63 To quote from the Somerset Reporter: "By the death of Mr. Lindsey the entire community has met a great loss. He was a father and counsellor to hundreds of people from whom he never took a dollar for advice. The town loses a valuable and unani- mously respected citizen. The bar loses an upright lawyer. His family mourns the loss of a fond father and husband, and the world loses an honest man." Mr. Lindsey died suddenly at his home in Norridgewock after a long illness, April 28, 1884, and was buried in his native town. * * * Concerning the work of the four Congressmen at Washington, the Annals of Congress are my guide. The records say but little in regard to Mr. Kidder's Congressional work; it was his privilege to be in Wash- ington while Henry Clay was Speaker of the House. Although Dr. Bates served but one term, he showed great activity, both in committee work and in debate, a rare thing for a member during his first term. But he was so constituted that it was impossible for him to remain silent when there was anything to be said. During that session the Committee on Manufactures had the tariff under consideration. The Hon. John Quincy Adams^'' was a member of that committee, but later was appointed to go to Philadelphia and in- vestigate the affairs of the Bank of the United States. He therefore begged to be excused from further service on the Committee on Manu- factures. But many members considered the tariff of such importance that they opposed Mr. Adams's request, Mr. Bates among the number. He spoke in substance as follows : That he should do violence to his own feelings if he did not state the reason for the vote he should give on the present occasion. He was free to confess that in many instances it had been his good or ill fortune to disagree with Mr. Adams^'^ . . . but that the time had now arrived when he looked to that gentleman as the only man in the Union capable of taking the high stand of umpire ; the only man who would possess the power of preventing that dire catas- trophe which seemed to be pending over the country and which every patriot must fear as the greatest of evils. Such being the case, he must with whatever reluctance give his vote against complying with the re- quest which had been made. There seems to have been no subject debated during the twenty- second Congress upon which Dr. Bates did not have pronounced ideas. The tariff was as troublesome to Congress in those days as in more re- cent times, and it is interesting to note some of Dr. Bates's ideas on the subject. In some of his remarks he went into calculations to show that the effect of the amendment in regard to wool would be to give a pro- i6Hon. John Quincy Adams of Massachusetts was then serving his first term in the House, after being: President of the United States. iTIn politics Dr. Bates and John Quincy Adams disagreed. Dr. Bates was a democrat; John Quincy Adams was a whig-. 64 Maine in History and Romance tection of 85 per cent. He said he was a wool-grower himself to some extent, and that he would deem 50 per cent, on that article to be such full and ample protection that if it were not he would slay his sheep and give them to the dogs. So he was of the same opinion as to the woolen manu- facturers that if 50 per cent., apart from nice calculations as to ex- change, the value of the pound sterling, etc., was not sufficient to protect that interest, he was prepared to say he would vote to give it no protec- tion whatever. Mr. Sawtelle's work in Congress was chiefly on Revolutionary Claims; as chairman of that committee it was his duty to inspect the claims and then assign them to a sub-committee to make a thorough ex- amination as to their merits and to recommend what action should be taken. Stephen D. Lindsey during the forty-fifth and forty-sixth Con- gresses was a member of the minority party, which may account for his not receiving as good committee assignments as his ability would war- rant; he served in each of these Congresses on the Committee on Claims, and in the forty-sixth he served in addition on the Committee on Ex- penditure in the Navy. In the forty-seventh Congress he served as a member of the Com- mittee on the Expenditures in the Department of State, and on the Com- mittee on Library. The records of these Congresses show a vast amount of work done by Mr. Lindsey, through the reports that he made to Con- gress, and the debates which followed show that he was always prepared with the facts, and generally his reports were adopted by Congress. The clearness with which he stated the proposition and the fairness with which he always acted universally gave him the attention and respect of his fellow-members, and they were inclined to adopt his conclusions as their own. Thus it is that these four men have so well performed their parts in the places to which they have been called, and Norridgewock is proud of having had the opportunity of sending these, her sons, to the councils of the nation, feeling that she has during these ninety-five years fairly and honorably done her part; and if, during these years, she has occupied more than her part of the time, she may justly feel that it was because she had men who were best qualified for the work to be done. Not alone along the lines of statesmanship have her sons and daugh- ters displayed their abilities, but in nearly every walk of life she has fur- nished some of the best, some of the bravest, and some of the noblest, who have left their impress upon the State and nation. Should you ask why this little town with but fifteen hundred inhab- itants should stand out so prominently in the State, we would point with pride to those early settlers who were men and women of great strength of mind and body, who were glad to endure the hardships of those early days because they believed they were laying a foundation for a town that should in the future become what it proved in after years. A Direct Descendant of Sarah Hill Fletcher