fil^i 
 
EX L I B R I S 
 
 ROBERT PALFREY 
 
 UTTER 
 
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 > 3 » * 
 
 
The Old Minister of Brampton. 
 
BRAMPTON SKETCHES 
 
 OLD-TIME NB^V ENGLAND LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY B. CLAFLIN 
 
 1 ^ i } 1 J 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 
 46 East Fourteenth Street (Union Sqjjare) 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/bramptonsketchesOOclafrich 
 
PREFATORY NOTE. 
 
 RuFUS Choate once said, " I could wish 
 to see a genius like Walter Scott, or a thou- 
 sand such as he, undertake to illustrate the 
 early life of New England." 
 
 Though I have not the remotest claim to 
 genius, I have a vivid remembrance of the con- 
 versation, the stories, and the appearance of the 
 elderly people of my own village in my youth, 
 and of what then remained, in manners and cus- 
 toms, of the ways of early times. These brief 
 sketches are faithful records of such memories, 
 transcripts, as literal as they are simple, of what 
 I thus learned of the life of a New England 
 
 village eighty years ago. 
 
 M. B. C. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. The Manor-House 9 
 
 II. Bramptois' 22 
 
 III. An Old-Time Meetii^g-House and Min- 
 ister 28 
 
 ly. The Good Doctor 43 
 
 V. The Schoolhouse and Tavern .... 50 
 
 YI. The Village Oracle 58 
 
 YII. Aunt Puah 71 
 
 YIII. HULDY 81 
 
 IX. YisiTS to the Springs 96 
 
 X. Queer People 107 
 
 XL The Amusements and Occupations of 
 
 THE Children 122 
 
 XII. YiLLAGE Ways 143 
 
> 1 »> ^^^ »>,.,, > 
 
 
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 > ^ J 
 
 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE MANOR-HOUSE. 
 
 In early New England days the life of the 
 interior villages was quite different from that 
 of the coast towns. Foreign news, books, 
 changes of fashion, and all the influences of 
 commerce came first to the shore, and, with the 
 slow and infrequent communication of the 
 time, only gradually found their way back to 
 the hills. The seaboard community was thus, 
 in many ways, unlike a rural neighborhood, 
 where people kept their primitive customs and 
 lived in comparative isolation. 
 
 The meeting-house of Brampton stood on a 
 barren expanse of elevated pasture land, the 
 highest hill between Wachusett and the sea, 
 and about it were clustered the modest houses 
 
 9 
 
2?si^ 
 
 10 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 and outlying farms that made up the village 
 and the town. The tops of its pine-trees could 
 be discerned thirty miles distant ; Wachusett 
 and Monadnock were plainly visible as you 
 looked from its windows to the western hori- 
 zon, and rivers took their rise in its innumera- 
 ble springs. 
 
 The settlement of Brampton owed its begin- 
 ning to a bequest of money made by an English 
 gentleman to Harvard College. This money 
 was invested in 1710, in lands on this elevated 
 ridge, and the territory thus purchased was 
 named for the donor, and leased to tenants for 
 one penny an acre. The rents w^ere paid until 
 the people, who were very poor, became dissat- 
 isfied and delinquent in their payments, and in 
 the year 1732 it was decided in the General 
 Court, that ten thousand dollars should be 
 drawn from the State treasury in full settle- 
 ment, satisfaction, and discharge of rents due, 
 and that the corporation of Harvard College 
 should surrender to those who had occupied 
 them all right and title to these lands. When 
 
THE MANOR-HOUSE. 11 
 
 the land was given, a certain portion was 
 allotted for the use of the minister, it having 
 been purchased, so it was denominated in the 
 deed, "for upholding and propagating the 
 Kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ in New 
 England." Another portion was set apart for 
 school purposes. 
 
 About 1745, the Rev. Roger Price, who had 
 been for some years rector of King's Chapel, 
 Boston, and had become disaffected with his 
 people, took up a large tract of land and 
 settled in Brampton, drawn thither, probably, 
 by its favorable position. Some years later, a 
 titled English gentleman of wealth and culture, 
 who was a collector of revenues in Boston, 
 and a friend of the rector, was induced by him 
 to come to Brampton and purchase land for 
 a country home, where he could spend his 
 time in hunting and fishing, in cultivating 
 his grounds, and in entertaining his political 
 friends. He chose the western slope of a hill 
 called Magunco, — place of great trees, — the 
 same hill where the Indians had lighted their 
 
12 BRAMPTO:Nr SKETCHES. 
 
 camp-fires, and Eliot had preached the gospel 
 to them, a century before ; he erected a commo- 
 dious manor-house in the midst of a chestnut 
 forest; planted orchards, built granaries, and 
 embellished his gardens with ornamental trees 
 imported from England. 
 
 The baronet was only twenty-four years of 
 age when he purchased " Magunco." He was 
 a lineal descendant of Oliver Cromwell, a 
 friend and associate of Horace Walpole and 
 Henry Fielding, and of the Earl of Chesterfield, 
 whom he was said to have resembled both in 
 manners and person. Allied to one of the first 
 families in England, accustomed to the gayeties 
 of London, and received and flattered by the 
 ladies and gentlemen who occupied the court 
 end of Boston, he found the amusements of the 
 small colonial town somewhat circumscribed, 
 and welcomed anything which would tend to 
 break up the monotony and afford a new sensa- 
 tion. 
 
 Not long after his arrival in Boston, he 
 had occasion to visit the neighboring town of 
 
THE MANOR-HOUSE. 13 
 
 Marblehead, which had recently become a port 
 of entry, to transact business pertaining to the 
 revenues. While he was refreshing himself in 
 the only tavern the village afforded, his atten- 
 tion was arrested by a young girl who was 
 engaged in scrubbing the floor. She was des- 
 titute of shoes and stockings, and was very 
 scantily clad. He called her from her scrub- 
 bing, and, entering into conversation with her, 
 he soon perceived that her wit was equal 
 to the beauty which had attracted him. He 
 gave her a crown to buy shoes and stockings, 
 and offered a kiss, which she blushingly took 
 with maidenly modesty. When he returned 
 to Boston, neither official duties, nor the gay 
 society, where were introduced all the man- 
 ners and customs of court life in the mother 
 country, where were kept up all the distinctions 
 of family and title, where were liveried serv- 
 ants and armorial bearings, — neither courtly 
 circumstance nor aristocratic pride could divert 
 his mind from the beautiful little barmaid 
 whom he had left on her knees, scrubbing the 
 
14 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 rough floor in the small suburban village of 
 Marblehead. His mind constantly turned in 
 that direction, and he soon found occasion to 
 visit a second time the little port of entry. 
 
 On this second visit he approached the 
 parents of the rustic barmaid, and asked per- 
 mission to take her to Boston to educate her. 
 His request was granted by the simple country 
 folk, who saw for their child only an oppor- 
 tunity to better her condition, and were wholly 
 ignorant of the impropriety of trusting her to 
 the care of a stranger. Our courtly young 
 man left Marblehead with the young girl of 
 sixteen, who had occupied all his thoughts 
 since his visit of a year before, took her to the 
 city, and placed her in the best school that 
 the town afforded. There she was taught 
 those graces and accomplishments which were 
 thought requisite to form a fashionable lady, 
 and develop those charms of person and mind 
 which had so attracted him at their first inter- 
 view. But while our courtly knight was to 
 the "manner born," bore a title, and was sur- 
 
THE MANOR-HOUSE. 15 
 
 rounded by ladies and gentlemen of noble 
 English families, the little barmaid was still 
 only a country lass, and a.s she could not be 
 received in the society to which he was accus- 
 tomed in Boston, he determined to seek a home 
 in the country. This was his reason for coming 
 to Brampton. 
 
 His mansion on the hill, with its great halls 
 supported by fluted columns, its broad stair- 
 cases, tapestried walls, and finely carved marble 
 mantels, with its ample wine-cellars, and secret 
 passages, and its gardens lined with lilac 
 hedges, was the wonder and admiration of the 
 country people for miles around. Here with 
 the beautiful woman whom he loved and with 
 his many slaves, he spent the tiAie in entertain- 
 ing his political friends, in directing the affairs 
 of his farm, in deer and fox hunting, and in fish- 
 ing in the many brooks and streams with which 
 his plantation abounded. 
 
 Requiring at length a change of climate, he 
 visited England, and there received an official 
 appointment which made it necessary for him 
 
16 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 to take up his residence in Lisbon, at that 
 period the most sumptuous court in Europe. 
 Its young king was the richest, its opera was 
 the finest, and the papal hierarchy there the 
 most imposing outside of Rome. But even 
 here, with these magnificent surroundings, the 
 young girl who was reared in a log cabin on a 
 wild New England shore shone so brilliantly 
 among the resplendent dames as to attract the 
 attention of the court circle, the extravagances 
 and excesses of which were so soon to end in 
 the most fearful tragedy of modern times. 
 
 On the first day of November, 1755, a day 
 clear and cool, with not a shadow in the sky to 
 foretell the impending doom, the baronet had 
 gone out to witness the celebration of high 
 mass, for it was All Saints' Day, a festival of 
 imposing ceremony in the Romish Church. 
 
 He was driving with one of the court ladies 
 when suddenly a hollow, rumbling sound was 
 heard; the earth heaved and yawned; the 
 carriage was overturned and the occupants 
 were buried among falling palaces and towers ; 
 
THE MANOR-HOUSE. 17 
 
 whelmed in that appalling destruction of the 
 earthquake which made that first day of 
 November memorable throughout the civilized 
 world. In a few awful moments sixty thousand 
 people had perished, and a large part of the 
 splendid capital was in ruins. The horses of 
 the baronet were instantly killed, and such 
 was the agony of the lady at his side, that she 
 clenched with her teeth the sleeve of his coat 
 and drew blood from his arm. 
 
 Meanwhile his companion, whom he had left 
 in the morning at his residence situated in that 
 part of the city where the earthquake was not 
 so severely felt, overcome with terror for his 
 safety, and knowing the direction his drive 
 had probably taken, started in search of him. 
 Making her way through these soul-sickening 
 scenes, she at length heard the accents of his 
 well-known voice. 
 
 Years before, he had saved her from a life 
 of drudgery and toil; it was now her turn to 
 rescue him. This awful experience, when an 
 appalling death stared him in the face, was to 
 
18 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 him a veritable judgment-day. In its horrors 
 all that was conventional and subordinate was 
 forgotten, and they stood equal and alone with 
 God. Brought thus face to face with the 
 eternal, in immediate expectation of death, he 
 made a solemn vow, that if God would show 
 pity and spare his life, he would, as far as pos- 
 sible, atone for the wrong done to the beautiful 
 woman who had for years enriched his life, had 
 presided at his table, had shone brilliantly in 
 the various positions where he had placed her, 
 by making her his lawful wedded wife ; and he 
 was true to his word. 
 
 The following summer the baronet, with 
 Lady Agnes, returned to Brampton, where 
 he remained until his health again began to 
 decline. 
 
 The scarlet coat which bore marks of the 
 agony of the lady with whom he was driving, 
 and some other relics of that eventful day, 
 were kept hung on the tapestried walls in one 
 of the chambers of the manor-house, where, in 
 fasting and prayer, the baronet always spent 
 
THE MANOK-HOUSE. 19 
 
 the anniversary of his deliverance from the 
 dreadful catastrophe. 
 
 It was owing perhaps to the dismal associa- 
 tions connected with this solitary chamber, that 
 the place acquired the reputation of being 
 haunted, and ghosts and goblins were seen to 
 stalk through the lonely woodlands in the 
 dusky twilight.^ 
 
 Dr. Holmes, in his poem, entitled "Agnes," 
 speaks of the chamber 
 
 ** Where hung the rapier blade he wore 
 Bent in its flattened sheath ; 
 The coat the shrieking woman tore 
 Caught in her clenching teeth." 
 
 The baronet returned to England in the year 
 1768, and soon after died. The Lady Agnes 
 came back to her estate in Brampton and re- 
 mained until the Revolution, when, being so 
 closely allied to the English, she was looked 
 upon with suspicion, and it was thought best 
 for her to leave the country. 
 
 In May, 1775, it was resolved in Provincial 
 
 1 Mrs. Stowe alludes to this in " Old-Time Folks.'* 
 
20 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 Congress that my lady be permitted to go to 
 Boston and have soldiers to attend her. A 
 guard of six soldiers defended her, as about the 
 first of June she entered Boston, then in pos- 
 session of the British troops. 
 
 From the windows of her house on Garden 
 Street she witnessed the imposing drama of the 
 battle of Bunker Hill, and aided with her own 
 hands to assuage the sufferings of the wounded 
 in the battlefield. She soon after sailed for 
 England and was there married to a gentleman 
 of wealth. She died at the age of fifty-seven. 
 
 The manor-house was long shown as a relic 
 of the past. Enough remained of its stately 
 trees, shaded walks, and picturesque nooks, to 
 denote the taste and culture of the accomplished 
 English baronet and his beautiful lady. The 
 story of its former tenants, their balls and 
 parties and dinners, their grand equipages and 
 fine dresses, was the theme of many a winter 
 evening, when the young people gathered 
 around the blazing logs in the broad kitchen 
 fireplaces of the simple homes of Brampton, to 
 
THE MANOR-HOUSE. 21 
 
 hear their grandames tell of the glory which 
 had long since passed away. 
 
 Every land has its romance of fair women 
 taken from poverty and toil to shine in high 
 places, as pearls are drawn from the ooze of the 
 sea to gleam in the crowns of kings. But not 
 one has a more rare and thrilling story than 
 that of the lovely Agnes taken from a fisher- 
 man's hut, and the menial work of a Marble- 
 head inn, to adorn the aristocratic circles of 
 England. 
 
 Note. — The historical data in this chapter are taken 
 from Nason's *' History of Middlesex County." 
 
22 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BRAMPTON. 
 
 The cultivated acres of the English baronet 
 and of the retired rector were in strange contrast 
 with the barren hills and pastures of some parts 
 of Brampton, which were so rocky that it was 
 a common saying of the old people that the 
 devil in going to and fro over the earth broke 
 his apron-strings when he reached this place, 
 and the stones which would have sufficed for 
 many miles of country were emptied on the 
 hills of Brampton. 
 
 The sheep, so it was said, had to have their 
 noses sharpened, in order to nibble the wiry 
 grass which sprang up between the thickly 
 scattered stones. Huckleberries and blueber- 
 ries were the chief products of the pastures, 
 and blackberry vines spread over many an 
 acre, covering the gray rocks in spring with 
 
BRAMPTON. 23 
 
 their delicate white blossoms, and brightening 
 them in autumn with their gayly tinted leaves. 
 Wild strawberries grew on the hillsides, and 
 the sweet fern and hardback and chiccory lifted 
 up their heads in pretty contrast to the gray 
 and tumbling stone walls which lined all the 
 byways of Brampton. 
 
 The red honeysuckle waved in the crevices 
 of the rocks, and the birds and bees feasted on 
 the honey of its tiny cells ; the wild cherry 
 bloomed in the pastures ; the mountain laurel 
 skirted the woods, and the scarlet cardinal- 
 flower was mirrored in the clear waters of 
 every little stream. 
 
 The homely neglected mayweed grew unmo- 
 lested between the wheel-tracks, so few were 
 the wheels which rolled over the quiet roads of 
 the village long ago ; the mouse-colored pussy 
 sprang up everywhere out of the dust, and 
 refused to be trodden down by the weary plod 
 of the ploughman or the pattering footsteps of 
 the little children. The dusty road which was 
 the main street and highway had on either side 
 
24 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 a narrow footpath flanked by a dilapidated 
 stone wall, along which grew mullein and milk- 
 weed, burdock and tansy and yarrow enough to 
 supply all the herb-closets in the neighborhood. 
 An occasional clump of wild roses and sweet- 
 brier beguiled the children in the springtime 
 on their way to school, and in the autumn the 
 goldenrod and purple aster were plucked by 
 little hands, to adorn the teacher's desk in the 
 small bare schoolhouse, which stood at the end 
 of the road, on the village green. 
 
 Brampton was on the turnpike, about mid- 
 way between Boston and Worcester. The 
 tavern in the town, where the stages and the 
 great teams stopped, and where a stray traveller 
 could put up for the night, was a low, rambling 
 stone structure standing close to the road, half- 
 way up the ascent of the meeting-house hill. 
 High among the rocks of a huckleberry pasture, 
 and remote from any habitation, was a rude 
 stone building where powder had been stored 
 in Revolutionary times. The place was famil- 
 iarly known as ''Powder-House Hill; " it was a 
 
BRAMPTON. 25 
 
 landmark as one drove from the neighboring 
 towns, for all roads went up to reach Brampton, 
 and it was the farthest limit to which the vil- 
 lage children were allowed to stray in their 
 rambles for nuts and berries, or for wild flowers 
 in the springtime, — indeed they were some- 
 times awed by being told that "Injuns would 
 ketch 'em " if they went beyond. 
 
 The inhabitants of Brampton were, as a 
 whole, honest, upright. God-fearing people. 
 Their outlook was narrow. They were en- 
 tirely absorbed in the small cares and duties 
 of every-day life, and had little interest beyond 
 them. Though homely and sometimes rough 
 in phrase and manner, they were kindly in 
 feeling, with true regard and respect for each 
 other, and were always ready to help in time of 
 need. 
 
 Life then was empty of resources compared 
 with our day. There were neither public 
 nor private libraries; schools and books were 
 few, and the only communication with the out- 
 side world was through a weekly paper, or the 
 
26 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 news furnished by some passing traveller. The 
 minister of Brampton was known and respected 
 through Massachusetts for his scholarship and 
 character, but his limited library was, with rare 
 exceptions, devoted to his profession, as were 
 the few books of the doctor and the lawyer to 
 theirs. 
 
 After the Revolutionary period the country 
 was impoverished ; physical needs were upper- 
 most; the people were everywhere forced to 
 attend to the necessities of life. The Sab- 
 bath supplied the only change in the hard 
 routine of toil, and that was filled with stern 
 religious exercises. Yet affection, taste with 
 love of fun, all the genial qualities of humanity, 
 were there, and, despite restrictions, showed 
 themselves now in open and now in furtive 
 ways to cheer and enliven the rugged path. 
 " Thanksgiving " was the family festival, the 
 recognized holiday ; the keeping of Christmas 
 was frowned upon as something pertaining to 
 Popery. Sometimes the young people departed 
 from the usual austere monotony on Thanks- 
 
BRAMPTON. 27 
 
 giving evening and indulged in a ball at the 
 old stone tavern. Ordinations and town elec- 
 tions, courtings, weddings, tea parties, quilt- 
 ings, huskings, and an occasional dance were 
 the pleasures and festivities of the year. 
 
28 BKAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AN OLD-TIME MEETING-HOUSE AND MINISTER. 
 
 There was but one house of worship in the 
 early days of Brampton. This was a two-story 
 wooden structure, unpainted, with double rows 
 of windows, and without spire or ornament of 
 any kind. There was not a tree to protect it 
 from the blasts of winter or the summer's 
 scorching sun, and but for the fact that it had 
 a graveyard beside it, and a long row of sheds 
 behind it, a stranger might not have recognized 
 it as a house of worship. It had no fire in 
 winter, and the piercing winds blew through 
 the loose, unprotected windows, and the snow 
 formed little white banks on the window-sills. 
 Often the minister's voice was lost in the roar 
 and rattle of the wind, and his face was well- 
 nigh obscured by the clouds of breath that rose 
 as incense in the crisp, cold air. In summer 
 
AN OLD-TIME MEETING-HOUSE. 29 
 
 the sun poured in upon the tired old people, 
 and the little children slept on the laps of 
 their weary, nodding mothers, and the breeze 
 stole by rustling the leaves of the time-worn 
 "Watts and Select" hymn-books, making grate- 
 ful diversion for the children in the monot- 
 ony of the sermon, few words of which they 
 could understand until the minister came to 
 " tenthly," when they knew their imprisonment 
 was nearly at an end. Oh, the delight it was 
 to them when the last singing came, and they 
 could rise from their hard seats, where for two 
 mortal hours they had been suspended between 
 heaven and earth, unable to touch the back of 
 the pew or to stretch their little feet to the 
 floor! 
 
 The sermons were divided by a recess at 
 noon, that is, the first half of the sermon was 
 preached in the morning, and at noon the 
 women who lived at a distance, and had 
 brought their luncheon with them, ate it while 
 they chatted with their neighbors, sometimes 
 over the good minister's discourse, but more 
 
30 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 often over their little housekeeping successes 
 and failures, the arrival of a stranger in town, 
 or a new courtship among the young people, 
 the advent of a calf or the killing of a pig, 
 the sickness of Mis' B., and the failure in Mis' 
 A.'s soap-making. 
 
 Meanwhile the men were gathered in groups 
 on the sunny side of the church or in the ad- 
 joining horse-sheds, discussing their own affairs, 
 the town politics, the state of the crops, and 
 the condition of things in general. All these 
 were topics of absorbing interest to the simple 
 country folk, whose only deviation from the 
 daily routine was the arrival of the weekly 
 newspaper, and the Tuesday prayer-meeting, 
 which was held in winter in the little entry 
 of the meeting-house. This meeting was held 
 in the entry because the handful of people 
 could gather closer together in this narrow 
 space, and, as Deacon Low said, "there was 
 more freedom of speech." 
 
 The exercises never varied. After the minis- 
 ter had opened the meeting with a long prayer, 
 
AN OLD-TIME MEETING-HOUSE. 31 
 
 in which he never forgot to make mention of 
 the individual sins of each member of his flock, 
 and of the collective sins of all the nations of 
 the earth, a hymn was given out, and not one 
 stanza was ever omitted. Deacon Low took 
 out his tuning-fork, and, touching it solemnly 
 on the back of his chair, said, " We will sing it 
 to the tune of Haddam," or perhaps he selected 
 "Saint Martin's." The good deacon seldom 
 ventured beyond. His repertoire of tunes was 
 limited. 
 
 There was a high gallery all around the 
 meeting-house, where the colored people sat; 
 there were five or six in the village, relics 
 of the slave-trade; and here sat also the town 
 paupers, and an occasional stranger. There 
 was a pew near the pulpit reserved for any who 
 were hard of hearing. The deacons always sat 
 together in a high-backed, square pew at the 
 left of the pulpit, which was so high the old 
 people can remember to this far-off day how 
 their childish necks ached when they tried 
 to behave like their elders and look at the 
 
32 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 preacher, and how their childish hearts quaked 
 with fear lest the sounding-board should fall 
 and crush the dear old minister ; and then, 
 perhaps, they fell to meditating upon the deep 
 problem, whether, if it should suddenly drop, 
 he would spring up from the pulpit beneath 
 like a jumping-jack from his box. 
 
 This was more interesting to their youthful 
 minds than the questions which at that time 
 were agitating the theological world, namely, 
 whether angels occupied space so that four 
 could dance on the point of a cambric needle 
 at one and the same moment of time, and 
 whether the lower regions were paved with 
 infants' skulls. 
 
 The seats in the gallery opposite the pulpit 
 were reserved for the singers, and Deacon Low, 
 standing in front, kept time, while the bass- 
 viol, after twanging and creaking, and having 
 fche strings and screws several times adjusted, 
 "wallowed through the lugubrious tunes like 
 a hippopotamus .'* The bass-viol was the only 
 instrument considered suitable, in those primi- 
 
AN OLD-TIME MEETING-HOUSE. 33 
 
 tive days, for Sunday use, and as an accompani- 
 ment for psalm-singing. 
 
 The three important personages in a primi- 
 tive New England village were, the minister, 
 the doctor, and the lawyer. The minister 
 played the most important part, and the min- 
 ister of Brampton was distinguished many 
 miles around for his quaint originality and his 
 free speech. He was a slight man of medium 
 height, with thin flowing locks, soft blue eyes, 
 and a benignant expression. He was like 
 Victor Hugo's good bishop Welcome. It was 
 a festival whenever he appeared. He blessed 
 the children, and they blessed him. Indeed, 
 he never passed a child without some pleasant 
 word and a friendly pat on the head. 
 
 He considered neither hardship nor toil in 
 the presence of duty ; his salary was three hun- 
 dred and thirty-three dollars and thirty-three 
 cents, which sum was always scrupulously paid 
 to him on a certain day of the year by the 
 treasurer of the town. Everybody in the 
 parish, in those days, was taxed to support the 
 
84 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 minister, and of course everybody knew about 
 his various devices for eking out a scanty 
 living. He cultivated the land which was set 
 apart for the use of the minister in the early 
 settlement, and cut with his own hands and 
 sold the wood and timber from the surrounding 
 forest. He said to the people, " Do you know 
 by what means I have procured cattle and 
 sheep, and have furnished my house? This 
 is because I have been doing your business, 
 and neglecting my own. Your business is, to 
 support your minister, and that is what I have 
 been doing for twenty years. My business is 
 to study and preach, and in this I have never 
 abounded. While you give me meadow-hay 
 pay, I shall give you meadow-hay sermons. I 
 have had occasion to say many severe things to 
 you during my ministry, and you have always 
 had the good-sense to know you richly deserved 
 them."i 
 
 One cold day in winter, the minister was 
 taking a load of ship-timber to Boston, and 
 having driven the slow oxen for many miles, he 
 
 ^ Century sermon. 
 
AN OLD-TIME MEETING-HOUSE. 35 
 
 became weary and faint, and stopped at a way- 
 side inn for rest and refreshment. He was 
 shivering with the burden of age and the bitter 
 cold of a New England day, and he asked the 
 landlord to give him some hot whiskey. The 
 landlord, in a fit of conscientiousness quite 
 unusual to men of his guild, noticing his trem- 
 bling hand, said, " I think you have had enough 
 of that sort, old man. " The minister gave no 
 word of reply, but touched the tired beasts 
 with his heavy whip, and plodded along to find 
 a more friendly hostelry. 
 
 Shortly after this, he exchanged with the 
 clergyman who preached in the village where 
 this circumstance occurred. The conscientious 
 landlord recognized in the eloquent preacher 
 the old man to whom he had refused the warm- 
 ing draught, and made a most profuse apology, 
 as he came down from the pulpit ; to which the 
 good man replied, "You did just right, my 
 friend, in refusing me if you thought I had 
 already taken enough. If you will always be 
 as honest with others, I will be content.'' 
 
36 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 Political feeling ran as high in the little 
 community over the election of selectmen, 
 town-treasurer, and pound-keeper, and the party 
 feeling was as strong and bitter between Whig 
 and Tory, as it is in our day between Democrat 
 and Republican. The minister, who was a 
 Federalist, never failed to preach a political 
 sermon on Fast and Thanksgiving days, and 
 on the Sunday before town meeting. At one 
 time, when the political interest was more in- 
 tense than usual, he chose for his text these 
 words : " Nathan said unto David, Thou art the 
 man." 
 
 He was very pointed in his remarks, and 
 after preaching a long sermon, and making 
 suitable application of his text, the leading man 
 in the opposing party, who could endure the 
 personal thrusts no longer, interrupted him by 
 saying, "Mr. Howe, you might as well call 
 names." 
 
 The minister fixed his piercing eyes on the 
 Tory, and, with his long, bony finger pointing 
 directly at him, in most emphatic manner re- 
 
AN OLD-TIME MEETING-HOUSE. 37 
 
 peated his text, " Nathan said unto David, Thou 
 art the man. There is no need of calling 
 names when conscience is doing its work so 
 well." 
 
 The Tory sat down, and no more was heard 
 from him in the meeting-house, but during the 
 recess between the morning and afternoon serv- 
 ices, a more spirited caucus than usual was 
 held by the little knot of Tories behind the 
 meeting-house sheds, and the old moss-covered 
 stones in the adjoining graveyard, could they 
 have spoken, would have told of dangerous and 
 seditious speeches made by the Tories concern- 
 ing the Federalists. 
 
 The treasurer of the town was also the 
 physician. Like all good citizens, he went to 
 meeting on Thanksgiving Day, when the serv- 
 ice began at ten o'clock in the morning. 
 Once soon after it commenced he was called to 
 visit a patient six miles distant in a neighbor- 
 ing town. The road was hilly and rocky, and 
 it required at least an hour and a half to take 
 the drive. He visited the patient, ministered 
 
38 BRAMPTOX SKETCHES. 
 
 to her needs, and returned in time to hear the 
 closing hymn and benediction, and to take his 
 wife home, with the live coals in her little foot- 
 stove turned to dead-white ashes, and to the 
 Thanksgiving turkey and plum-pudding, which 
 the ample brick oven had kept enfolded in its 
 warm embrace for two hours beyond the usual 
 dinner time. 
 
 The good minister was subject to fits of mel- 
 ancholia. There was a conference of the neigh- 
 boring clergymen to consult about establishing 
 a religious journal of some kind. Each clergy- 
 man in turn gave his opinion as to the impor- 
 tance of such a step, and they agreed that it 
 was a wise measure and would tend to the 
 furtherance of the gospel. 
 
 Mr. Howe was the last to speak. He rose 
 slowly and said, in low, long-drawn-out tones, 
 "Brethren, I have no doubt that a religious 
 journal would be very useful, but, for myself, 
 it would be of no account, for, brethren, my day 
 is almost done ; my work is nearly finished, and 
 this is probably the last time I shall ever meet 
 
AN OLD-TIME MEETING-HOUSE. 39 
 
 with you ; the next time you come together, 
 it will be to attend my obsequies. May the 
 Lord bless you, brethren, and make you more 
 useful workers in His vineyard than I have 
 been." 
 
 He sat down, and there was a solemn pause 
 for a moment, and then a brother minister, who 
 was acquainted with Mr. Howe's peculiarities, 
 and was himself noted for quick wit and ready 
 repartee, arose, and said, " Brethren, I have a 
 proposition to make. We are together to-day, 
 and you all know how difficult it is for us to 
 come together, living as we do at considerable 
 distances from each other, and burdened as we 
 are with many duties. I move, as brother 
 Howe is so soon to depart this life, that we 
 have his funeral services now, while we are 
 assembled together. It will save a good deal 
 of trouble and expense. I put the motion." 
 
 The motion was no sooner put than Mr. 
 Howe, roused from his despondency by the rail- 
 lery of his brother minister, rose to his feet, and 
 said, " I object ! I won't die as long as you 
 
40 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 live ! " For the time being, the current of the 
 good man's thoughts was turned by this little 
 incident, and he went home in a more cheerful 
 frame of mind. 
 
 He used to pray with great unction, and 
 sometimes it appeared to the unsanctified that 
 his prayers were addressed more to the congre- 
 gation than to the Deity. He had a strong 
 prejudice against the Baptists, and it happened 
 that he was invited to make the ordaining 
 prayer in a neighboring town, where there was 
 a thriving Baptist church. He prayed that the 
 Lord would " put a stop to all false teaching, 
 and put down all heresies and isms, especially 
 the Baptists." 
 
 The brother minister who sat behind him in 
 the pulpit — the same who had proposed his 
 premature funeral service — pulled his coat-tail 
 at this point, and said : " You'd better die now^ 
 brother Howe." 
 
 At one time during his ministry the singers 
 took offence and left the choir. The next 
 Sunday he related to his people a remarkable 
 
AN OLD-TIME MEETING-HOUSE. 41 
 
 dream he had had, the purport of which was 
 that the singers died and went to heaven, but 
 were denied admittance because they had re- 
 fused to sing. 
 
 He once said to a brother minister, " You're 
 a very successful preacher, brother." 
 
 " Why so ? " said the minister. 
 
 "Because," was the reply, "you preach the 
 doctrine of total depravity, and your people 
 practise it so well." 
 
 " Settle your minister on a cart," said he, in 
 giving the " charge " to the people in a neigh- 
 boring church, who were about to settle a 
 new minister, "for the former pastors of this 
 church have been like Paul's two companions, 
 ' chosen to travel rather than to stay.' " 
 
 One of his parishioners offered the minister a 
 turkey on condition that he would tell him all 
 his faults. Mr. Howe declined the offer, saying 
 he could not work so cheap. Upon being urged, 
 he consented to take the turkey, and as he 
 thought occasion required, he went to pay off 
 a little of the debt. At length the victim 
 
42 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 became irritated at the discernment and fidelity 
 of the parson, and said to him one day, " Mr. 
 Howe, I want to tell you some of your faults/' 
 '' Not by a good deal," said the parson, " I never 
 sold you a turkey." 
 
 The good minister has long since gone to 
 his reward. His grave is in the little church- 
 yard on the hilltop, and adjoining the spot 
 where stood the old meeting-house in which 
 he preached so long and faithfully. His voice 
 is heard no more, but his influence still lives, 
 and his name is cherished in the homes of 
 Brampton. 
 
THE GOOD DOCTOR. 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE GOOD DOCTOR. 
 
 Who can ever forget the good doctor of 
 Brampton, with his stately bearing and genial 
 manner, as night and day he drove over the 
 rocky hill-roads for fifty miles around, to minis- 
 ter as kindly and faithfully to the poorest child, 
 for whom he would receive no pay, as to the 
 well-to-do farmer, who would give him a dollar 
 for driving ten miles on a dark night? A 
 dollar was the fee for a night visit, and fifty 
 cents for a day visit, but as the doctor's bill 
 was always the last to be considered in making 
 up the family accounts, it was often forgotten, 
 and he never pressed his claims . Every man 
 and woman regarded him as a friend, and there 
 was not a boy in all the country round who was 
 so ill-mannered as not to make his best bow, 
 or a little girl who would fail to drop her 
 
44 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 prettiest courtesy, when the good doctor passed 
 along the narrow road in his small gig, with the 
 saddle-bags, from which he dispensed life-giving 
 potions. The mothers often said his smiles and 
 caresses were as efficacious as his pills and 
 powders. Into his ears were poured all the 
 tales of want and sorrow, and his wise counsel 
 helped many a poor man and woman over the 
 hard places, which were not few or far between 
 in those early days ; and many a death-bed was 
 made calm and peaceful by his tender words of 
 hope and sympathy. 
 
 His presence was a benediction, and his smile 
 a blessing. He stepped with the dignity of a 
 prince, and his dress would have befitted a 
 king. He always wore a white waistcoat and 
 the finest of cambric shirt ruffles ; his gray hair, 
 braided and tied with a black ribbon, hung in a 
 queue over his velvet coat-collar, and his shoes 
 were bright and adorned with shining buckles. 
 His speech was quiet and dignified, and his bow 
 had the elegance and the military grace of the 
 high-born gentleman of that period. To this 
 
THE GOOD DOCTOR. 45 
 
 • 
 
 day his memory is precious to the old people 
 who recall his loving ministrations in their 
 childhood, and the genial courtesy with which 
 he would stop his gig as he passed them on 
 their way to school to inquire for their mothers, 
 and to offer a peppermint or a penny, always 
 with the injunction that they must be good and 
 obedient children. 
 
 The doctor, though devoted to his profession, 
 gave a good deal of time to the politics of the 
 day, and never, through fear of losing a patient, 
 hesitated to speak his mind. . He was a thorough 
 Whig, and had a large following in the town. 
 On election days his house was the rendezvous 
 of his party, who lived in the outskirts and at 
 a distance from the village. A long table was 
 always spread in the great room, the floor of 
 which was painted with Masonic emblems — for 
 the doctor was a prominent Mason — and cov- 
 ered with substantial viands for their noonday 
 repast. Roast beef, plum-puddings, mince pies, 
 and, above all, the famous 'lection cake, which 
 was a kind of sweetened bread stuffed with 
 
46 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 raisins, and varnished with molasses, and which 
 was never used except on March meeting days. 
 On these occasions the great fireplace was filled 
 with hickory logs, over which the steaming 
 kettle hung on an iron frame, and the old men 
 gathered around the cheerful blaze to smoke 
 their pipes and drink the foaming flip, while 
 they talked of the success or failure of their 
 favorite candidates. 
 
 The good doctor had " continuing courtesy," 
 and "his hospitality ran fine to the last." 
 
 The doctor's Sundays were spent in visiting 
 his patients. Many a chronic invalid would 
 defer sending for him through the week, and 
 expect him to drive a dozen miles for a Sunday 
 visit, so that he was wont to say, " I have so 
 many bodies to attend to, I have no time to look 
 after my soul." It was his habit to spend his 
 Sunday evenings with his friend, the lawyer, 
 with whom he discussed the topics of the day, 
 and to whom he often deferred in matters that 
 lay outside his own province, for the lawyer 
 was liberal in his religious opinions, and was 
 
THE GOOD DOCTOR. 47 
 
 considered quite heretical by the village people. 
 The doctor was a man of broad views, and 
 welcomed any advance of thought. His wide 
 experience and intimate knowledge of many 
 lives, and the affecting scenes he had witnessed ** 
 by many deathbeds, made him more charitable 
 and hopeful for humanity than most of the 
 accepted creeds of his day would have war- 
 ranted. 
 
 In these quiet Sunday evening talks the two 
 fast friends settled all the affairs of Church 
 and State, quite to their own satisfaction, 
 and in a manner which would often have 
 astounded the good old minister and his dea- 
 cons, who, in the meeting-house near by, were 
 deciding the affairs of time and eternity as if 
 to them alone the secrets of the Almighty had 
 been revealed. Although so far from the centre 
 of thought, the doctor kept up a lively interest 
 in the progress of scientific discovery, especially 
 in what pertained to his own profession. A 
 small square three-legged " candle-stand " stood 
 before the open fireplace in the " keeping- 
 
48 BRAMPTON SKETCHElS. 
 
 room," holding a candle and snuffers on a little 
 tray, and here, every night, it was his custom, 
 until the small hours of the morning, to read 
 the "Medical Journal" and the few books 
 which composed his library. 
 
 The great occasion of the year, with him, 
 was the annual medical meeting in Boston, 
 which he never failed to attend. The day he 
 spent at this convention was his one festival. 
 
 His skill and experience were such that 
 he was widely known and .greatly respected. 
 Many were the long, hard drives he took over 
 the hills to adjoining and distant towns for con- 
 sultation with other physicians regarding some 
 difficult case that had baffled their skill. He 
 had a practical sagacity which made him trusted 
 by every one, and he was -equally skilful in 
 applying the surgeon's knife and in administer- 
 ing advice to those who needed it. 
 
 When the good doctor died there was mourn- 
 ing far and near. Through two generations he 
 had been a sympathetic, unfailing friend and 
 helper to both rich and poor. The rich found in 
 
THE GOOD DOCTOK. 49 
 
 him a ready adviser, and the poor never went 
 unaided from his door. In the last year of his 
 life, although suffering from a fatal disease, he 
 visited his patients long after he had to be sup- 
 ported to his gig and lifted from it to the sick- 
 room. He vi^as laid in the little burying-ground 
 of the village where he had lived his busy self- 
 sacrificing life for more than seventy years, and 
 no sadder day ever dawned upon Brampton 
 than that of his funeral. There was a sense of 
 loneliness and loss in every home, and each 
 family felt as if one of its own members had 
 been called away. 
 
 No more across the hills he winds 
 
 At morn or set of sun ; 
 Sweet be his rest beneath the pines! 
 
 His journeys all are done. 
 But long as Brampton's woods are green 
 
 And household memories dear, 
 His name shall be a gracious word, 
 
 To help, and guide, and cheer, ■=- 
 And, where the sunlight fairest shines. 
 Revered his grave beneath the pines. 
 
60 BKAMPTOxX (SKETCHES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SCHOOLHOUSE AND TAVERN. 
 
 Very early in the settlement of Brampton a 
 committee was chosen to agree with a school- 
 master, and to provide school-dames for the 
 sum of five shillings per week. The school 
 was to be kept as long as the annual tax-money 
 appropriated for it should hold out; this was 
 never more than three months in the summer or 
 winter, and often six weeks was the limit. The 
 schoolhouse stood opposite the meeting-house, 
 and around it the "sumach grew and l)lack- 
 berry vines were running." In the interior of 
 the schoolroom, facing the door, stood "the 
 teacher's desk, scarred with raps official." 
 Around the sides and against the wall, directly 
 beneath the windows, were the seats of the 
 elder scholars ; the second row was devoted to 
 those next in age, down to the small benches, 
 
THE SCHOOLHOUSE AND TAVERN. 61 
 
 hard and bare, where the little ones sat, with 
 their feet dangling, until they were called to 
 .read their A B C's or spell their A B Ab's, 
 standing in a row, their little toes, guiltless of 
 shoes in summer, all carefully set to a crack in 
 the floor. 
 
 To an on-looker, keeping the line would 
 seem to have been of far greater importance 
 than the proper spelling of the column in the 
 day's lessons. The punishment for missing a 
 word was, while keeping the toes exactly on 
 a crack, to hold the finger on one of the nails 
 driven into the board in front. Sometimes half 
 of the class were in this attitude of expiation. 
 
 The room was warmed by a large fireplace, 
 the larger boys taking turns in building the 
 fire ; and every other minute some boy or girl 
 was calling out, " Say, teacher, can I go to the 
 fire?" For while those seated near the fire- 
 place were on the verge of roasting, the chil- 
 dren in the back part of the room were as near 
 freezing. The farmers in turn kept the wood- 
 pile supplied, toiling through the snows of the 
 
62 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 drifted roads to deposit the great logs that were 
 " to beat the frost-line back with tropic heat." 
 In summer this, pile of logs bj the schoolhouse 
 door was the gymnasium of the children, where 
 they expanded their chests and rounded their 
 muscles, climbing, leaping, and running. 
 
 The course of study included "readin', 'ritin', 
 spellin', syferin', jografry, an' part fust of 
 Barratt's grammer." The committee-man was 
 chosen with small regard to his educational fit- 
 ness, but rather with reference to his social 
 prominence, and the teacher whom he selected 
 was usually some favorite relative, chosen with 
 as little regard to competency for the situation. 
 
 The teachers ''boarded round" in the " dees- 
 trict " a week or more in each place, and their 
 coming was a great excitement in the families. 
 They were put into the best room, and usually 
 spent their evenings helping the laggards in 
 their ciphering, or in paying attention to the 
 pretty daughter of the house — attention that 
 not infrequently resulted in a long course of 
 domestic education under the same master. 
 
THE SCHOOLHOUSE AND TAVERN. 53 
 
 The committee-man always visited the school at 
 its close, and, during the whole term, the chil- 
 dren were trained for this eventful visit. He 
 was accustomed to announce himself at his com- 
 ing in some such form as this : " Child'en, 1 
 s'pose you all know what ye go t' school f er — 
 'tis so's t' appear well when the committee-man 
 comes in. Now, child'en, I hope you'll all 
 speak up loud an' do the best ye can, an' stand 
 right on the line. Now, see how many of ye 
 can answer this question: Who was the fust 
 President?" The children answer; while a 
 few named George Washington, some replied 
 in a stentorian voice, " Christopher Columbus," 
 others " General Cornwallis." 
 
 One little fellow stoutly maintained that it 
 was the "Colonel o' the Brampton Militia" — 
 the greatest man in his eyes. Thereupon the 
 committee-man, roused to patriotism and to the 
 opportunity of showing his superior knowl- 
 edge, would say: "Child'en, didn't yer never 
 all o' yer hear the story o' George Washington, 
 how he went out with his little hatchet an' cut 
 
54 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 his father's cherry-tree, an' when his father 
 asked him who done it he spoke up like a man, 
 and said, ' I done it with my little hatchet ; I 
 can't tell a lie.' Now, child'en, alers remember 
 that George Washington was the fust President 
 of the United States, 'cause he never told a lie." 
 
 Of scarcely less importance to both children 
 and teacher were the visits of the minister, 
 which were made two or three times annually, 
 for the minister at Brampton was greatly inter- 
 ested in the education of the youthful mind. 
 He prepared with much care a catechism for 
 the little ones, which they were expected to 
 commit to memory and repeat in these visits ; 
 he also had a favorite poem printed, entitled 
 " Phebe the Blackberry Girl," and gave copies 
 to the girls, offering a prize to the little maiden 
 who should recite it without making a mistake. 
 
 The old stone tavern b}^ the roadside, half- 
 way up the meeting-house hill, played an im- 
 portant part in the life of Brampton. Here all 
 the balls were held in the low primitive hall 
 lighted by tallow candles ; and here on the 
 
THE SCHOOLHOUSE AND TAVERN. 55 
 
 evening of election day the ''selectmen" of 
 the town had their annual supper. At the 
 balls the company assembled at five o'clock in 
 the afternoon, and danced until daylight the 
 next morning. Oh, the preparations that were 
 made for these great occasions, the curlings and 
 the crimpings, the starchings and the frillings, 
 the bows and belts and high-heeled slippers that 
 never at any other time saw the light of day ! 
 The lofty turtle-shell comb, and the string of 
 gold beads, were as indispensable to the belle 
 as were the high stiff stock, the white waist- 
 coat, and the knee buckles and ruffled shirt to 
 the beau. 
 
 Many of the party came on horseback, the 
 girls riding on pillions behind their attendants. 
 The officers of the Brampton Militia were fore- 
 most in all the festivals of the town, and the 
 colonel always led off in the dance. The fiddler 
 made the music for these gatherings, sitting 
 in a little raised enclosure at the end of the 
 hall, while he called the changes in the figures. 
 Toddy was frequently passed during the even- 
 
56 BRAMPTOX SKETCHES. 
 
 ing, and a " turkey supper " was served at mid- 
 niglit, and the table loaded with the most invit- 
 ing products of the farms and gardens. As the 
 hours of the night wore on, the dance became 
 more merry, and the tongues more free. Then 
 it was they began to put in the fancy steps — 
 the " pigeon wing " and the " double shuffle " — 
 until the crowing of the cocks, and the dawning 
 day, forced them to retire. Of course the balls 
 were confined to the more worldly part of the 
 community ; it was a great sin and an occasion 
 of discipline if a church-member should so far 
 fall into the ways of the unregenerate as to 
 attend one. A dance was always made the 
 occasion of serious reproof from the minister, 
 and at the evening meeting the good old deacon 
 would pray most earnestly for "• them that was 
 dancing on the varge of etarnity." 
 
 Election suppers were the occasion of great 
 hilarity, representing, as they did, only the 
 successful party. As the evening waned, the 
 speeches and toasts waxed brilliant and noisy, 
 and many a plan was concocted for the con- 
 
THE SCHOOLHOUSE AND TAVERN. 67 
 
 tinued discomfort of tlieir opponents. The low 
 bar-room was the gathering-place on a winter's 
 evening for the village gossips to play ''fox 
 and geese " and " high-low-jack," to take their 
 nightly draught, and to discuss the doings of 
 their neighbors and the latest bit of outside 
 news. 
 
 If, in its semi-weekly visits, the Boston and 
 Worcester stage brought a stranger to the 
 tavern, it was cause of great excitement and 
 curiosity, and he was plied with questions as to 
 the state of the Boston market and the doings 
 of the General Court. The old gray stone 
 tavern still stands by the roadside, but the gen- 
 erations that frequented it have passed away, 
 and the loaded teams and stages have given 
 place .to the railway, whose trains thunder at 
 the foot of the hill. 
 
58 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE VILLAGE ORACLE. 
 
 There are in every village those who act as 
 the guardians of other people's affairs; those 
 who know everybody's business, and advise in 
 all matters, great or small. Aunt Puah was 
 the oracle of Brampton. She was endowed by 
 nature with wise judgment, keen wit, and the 
 kindest heart ; everybody called her Aunt 
 Puah, and everybody sought her counsel and 
 advice. She was a short, delicate-looking 
 woman, with lines of anxious care upon her 
 face, and her shoulders rounded with , hard 
 work. Her calico gown was always scrupu- 
 lously neat, her plain lace cap was tied with 
 ribbons, clean, though faded from frequent 
 washing ; she wore a colored handkerchief 
 about her neck on ordinary days, and on rare 
 occasions a square of soft white muslin was 
 
THE VILLAGE ORACLE. 59 
 
 folded across her breast ; and at all times she 
 was adorned with a string of gold beads, and 
 small gold rings in her ears. The capacious 
 calico bag which held the knitting work and 
 the snuff-box hung on her arm, and the quill 
 knitting-sheath was never missed from her side. 
 The least pleasant feature of her face was her 
 very small gray eyes,, but even these were pleas- 
 ant to those w^ho knew her, and when once, in 
 her early married life, an old lover called upon 
 her, a neighbor chanced to overhear him say 
 to her as he was leaving, "I allers did think 
 you had the beautifullest eyes I ever see in a 
 woman's head." 
 
 It was often said in Brampton that if Aunt 
 Puah had not been " hitched to an off ox " (this 
 was the fitting term applied to her husband), 
 and could have had advantages, she would have 
 shone in society. As it was, she was simply 
 the oracle of the village. She lived in a small 
 white house that stood very near the road, and 
 on either side the low front door there was a 
 "laylock" bush, which Aunt Puah "set much 
 
60 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 by." There were not many lilacs in those 
 days ; the fragrant purple blossoms were the 
 delight of the children, and the little girl upon 
 whom Aunt Puah bestowed one, on her way to 
 school, was the envy of all her playmates. 
 
 On one side of the narrow, grass-grown path 
 that led to the house was a festival of '' Bounc- 
 ing Bets," those faded, persistent, homely flow- 
 ers, which will always grow, whether any one 
 wants them or not; and on the other side a 
 low paling enclosed a few square feet of earth 
 where there were marigolds and bachelor's- 
 buttons, touch-me-nots, sweet-williams, and 
 poppies, growing together in pretty confusion, 
 and in which Aunt Puah took great pride and 
 comfort. 
 
 Right under the front-room windows grew a 
 great clump of red " pinys," enclosed in a 
 barrel-hoop, and woe to the marauding hen that 
 ventured near them ! At the back of the house 
 the low moss-covered roof slanted almost to the 
 ground, and there was a bed of caraway seed 
 and fennel growing just under the eaves, for 
 
THE VlLLxVGE OKACLE. 61 
 
 Aunt Puah thought it very unwise to go to 
 meeting without a sprig or two of fennel and a 
 few caraway seeds or a bunch of dill, in case 
 one should be "overtook" with drowsiness in 
 the midst of the sermon. She used to say, " I 
 wouldn't have our minister see me nod, when 
 he was preachin' one o' his beautiful sermons 
 on election and predestination, for nothin' in 
 the world." 
 
 There was a tall Lombardy poplar tree near 
 the old well-sweep, which Aunt Puah treasured, 
 because, she said, it "look;ed very respectable, 
 as if folks had lived there a long time ; and, for 
 her part, she meant to keep up an appearance of 
 respectability, let what would come." 
 
 Aunt Puah's husband was uncle to every- 
 body, simply because he was her husband. He 
 represented a type of New England character 
 which was not unusual in those days of hard- 
 ship and toil, though it is to be hoped there 
 were not many quite as hard and narrow and 
 knotty as he. He was one of those people who 
 seem to have a grudge against the whole human 
 
62 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 race. He was always haggling with Provi- 
 dence. After taking care of his garden, a small 
 patch behind the house, he spent his time at 
 the little turn-gate just by the old well-sweep, 
 where he would stand for hours with his hands 
 in his trousers pockets, his old clay pipe in his 
 mouth, and his ancient straw hat drawn down 
 over his eyes, exchanging glances with his one 
 cow which was driven up early in the afternoon 
 to supplement her poor living in the sterile, 
 worn-out pasture, by cropping grass on the 
 roadside. 
 
 "Uncle Puah," as the children called him, 
 never smiled ; he took a lugubrious view of 
 everything, and all the evils under the sun were 
 attributed to " the pride o' the airth." If the 
 clouds were seen in the west, he would growl 
 out to the neighbor passing by, " Gad I the 
 clouds are shettin' down on the mountains, 
 the world w^ill be drowned out, and the crops 
 '11 all mould and mildew." If it failed to rain, 
 " Gad ! the crops '11 all dry up,, an' the pride 
 o' the airth '11 ruin the nation." 
 
THE VILLAGE ORACLE. 63 
 
 One day Uncle Puah slipped on the newly 
 scrubbed kitchen floor, and ignominiously fel] 
 with a pail of water in his hands. As soon as 
 his perturbed spirits would allow him to speak, 
 he said : " It's nothin' but pride that makes 
 women folks forever washin' up the floor. 
 Gad ! as I've said afore, the pride o' the airth 
 '11 ruin the nation." 
 
 So, a slip upon the clean white floor of the 
 kitchen, the failure of the potato crop in the 
 little garden, the news of a war with England 
 or of a destructive earthquake or tornado, all 
 were charged to " the pride o' the airth." 
 
 Aunt Puah confided to some of her friends 
 one day, when she had been more thaA usually 
 tried, that "a crabbed old man was a pooty 
 disagreeable crittur." 
 
 There was a gnarled quince bush in one 
 corner of the little garden, and a few barberry 
 bushes grew along the walls, which Uncle Puah 
 often threatened to cut down, because, he said, 
 "they take up the room where potaters had 
 ought to be growin', and it's nothin' but the 
 
64 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 'pride o' the airth' that makes women folks 
 want to use up sugar makin' ' quince sass ' — 
 for his part he'd ruther have a cabbage than 
 all the quince sass in Brampton." 
 
 This was the one interference that Aunt 
 Puah could not brook, and she used to say, 
 with a good deal of spirit — '' I vum, pa ! I've 
 gi'n in to you in almost everything, but I'll be 
 hanged if I'll give up that 'ere quince bush 
 while I live I I've kept house above forty 
 year, an' I never failed o' making quince per- 
 serve, and, in my opinion, it's pleggy shif'less 
 for any housekeeper not to make up quince in 
 the fall o' the year ; it's so handy to have in the 
 house in case a neighbor drops in unexpected ; 
 it would be disgraceful not to have quince per- 
 serve when the minister comes to tea." 
 
 It was equally shiftless, in the estimation of 
 the dear old woman, whose memory will always 
 be kept green in Brampton, if the catnip and 
 the tansy were not gathered and stored away on 
 a certain day of the month, to use in case of 
 sudden sickness. This was especially needful 
 
THE VILLAGE ORACLE. 65 
 
 in Aunt Puah's case, because "pa" did not 
 approve of spending money on doctors. In 
 his view, " 'arbs were as good medicine as there 
 was," and a good dose of catnip or wormwood 
 tea would cure all the ills of life. 
 
 It was thought that the educational advan- 
 tages of Brampton were not sufficient for the 
 lawyer's daugliter, and she was sent to the city 
 for a term of schooling. Aunt Puah remarked 
 that " a gal must be mighty weak in the intel- 
 lec' if she couldn't git learnin' enough in 
 Brampton." When she returned from Boston 
 she brought with her some paintings of flowers ; 
 she had taken lessons in painting and drawing 
 for a whole term. She exhibited them with a 
 good deal of pride, and Aunt Puah remarked, 
 on looking at an artistic group of golden-rod, 
 that "that 'arb is the beautifullest remedy for 
 dyspepshy I know of; " and when she came to 
 the delicate pink and white hardback, she said, 
 " There's no medicine that'll beat that when it's 
 well steeped, for summer complaint." The fine 
 arts received little attention from the toil-worn 
 
66 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 practical men and women of those early days, 
 and things were valued only as they were useful. 
 
 Aunt Puah was full of tenderness for every 
 living creature. She milked with her own 
 hands her one brindled cow, which did not 
 always behave in the most approved manner. 
 Sometimes a hungry, persistent fly would cause 
 old Brindle to flourish her tail and use her legs 
 in such a way as to dislodge Aunt Puah from 
 the milking-stool, for which unruly conduct she 
 always felt called upon to apologize. '' I raly 
 think, Mary," she said one day, "that the old 
 cow felt sorry, for she looked around at me 
 with her great eyes, when she see me layin' on 
 the ground, as much as to say, ' I didn't mean 
 to hurt ye.' " 
 
 The yellow cat was greatly respected in the 
 family ; there was a small heart-shaped hole cut 
 in the outer door, where she could go in and 
 out at pleasure, with no one to molest or to 
 make her afraid ; and her saucer of milk was 
 as conscientiously placed in the corner of the 
 great kitchen fireplace, three times a day, as 
 
THE VILLAGE ORACLE. 67 
 
 were the meals for the family placed upon the 
 table. 
 
 Her small flock of fowls was always counted 
 at set of sun, and if one giddy hen strayed 
 farther than was her wont in search of grass- 
 hoppers, there was great excitement in the 
 little kitchen, for all must go betimes and 
 properly to roost, with the cock at the head of 
 the roosting-pole and each hen in her accus- 
 tomed place. 
 
 The children, as they sat on the narrow sill 
 of the kitchen door, used to watch the cat's 
 little footprints on the sanded floor, and listen 
 with delight to Aunt Puah's account of the 
 pranks of her far-away childhood; but if they 
 disturbed the cat her favorite reproof was, 
 " Why ivill you act so like sarpints, when you 
 can be ^o pooty ? " 
 
 Aunt Puah used to say that, when she was 
 young, her mother thought "gals had much 
 better be at their spinnin' than to be prinkin' 
 before the lookin'-glass," and so she used to 
 take her little skillet of hot coals up to the 
 
68 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 attic, when she was invited to go to a ball, 
 and curl her hair on a pipe-stem, and dress 
 herself in her best gown and dimity petticoat, 
 with the few furbelows she had, while her 
 mother took her afternoon nap. About five 
 o'clock in the afternoon the young man who 
 was to take her to the ball would appear, and, 
 mounting the pillion, they would ride off to- 
 gether to spend the hours till daylight of the 
 next morning in the merry dance. 
 
 Madam Price was a descendant of the Rev. 
 Mr. Price, who came to Brampton while it 
 was almost an unbroken forest. She still lived 
 in the mansion her grandfather had built in the 
 early days; ^a stately, solemn-looking dame, 
 who wore a turban with a large lilac-colored 
 bow on the top, and high-heeled boots, and 
 carried a spacious bag on her arm, and always 
 maintained her English style of living. She 
 kept two negro servants, and was looked upon 
 by the village people as somebody quite above 
 the common. 
 
 She had also kept up the grounds around 
 
THE VILLAGE ORACLE. 69 
 
 the old-fashioned mansion, and had introduced 
 many new plants and shrubs, so that her gar- 
 den, with its box borders and lilac hedges, was 
 the wonder of the village people, and was re- 
 garded as a marvel of landscape gardening. 
 
 Her house was just opposite the meeting- 
 house, and the wall which surrounded it was 
 lined with lilacs. She was the first person who 
 introduced lilacs into the village ; and Aunt 
 Puah, going to church one bright Sunday- 
 morning, could not resist the impulse to break 
 a branch of the pretty purple blossoms which 
 hung temptingly over the wall, to adorn her 
 spring hat, which was quite too simple for her 
 taste. She knew that Madam Price was already 
 at the head of her pew in church, and that she 
 would be none the wiser and none the poorer 
 for the loss of this one blossom. Thus adorned 
 she walked up the broad aisle, feeling, as she 
 remarked, " pooty complete ; " but she had not 
 proceeded far before she heard the giggling of 
 the children and the thump of the tithing-man. 
 
 The minister cast one withering glance at the 
 
70 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 lilac-trimmed hat, and she slunk away into the 
 smallest corner of the great square pew, and 
 improved the moments of the first long prayer, 
 when all good, pious people were supposed to 
 have their eyes closed upon earthly frivolities, 
 to remove the offending blossom and consign it 
 to the box of sawdust at the pew door. She 
 had at least the satisfaction of feeling that 
 M^dam Price (her pew being the first under 
 the pulpit) never knew who broke the branch 
 from her cherished lilac bush. 
 
AUNT PUAH. . 71 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 AUNT PUAH. 
 
 Aunt Puah kept close watch of all the front 
 windows, and when a light was seen later than 
 usual, in a neighbor's house, she would make 
 some excuse for paying an early visit to make 
 inquiries. 
 
 "I hope there's nobody sick in the house. 
 Pa an' I see a light in the best room winder 
 an' we kinder jealoused your Susan had a beau. 
 I thought I'd jest run over and see if there 
 was anything serious in't. I told pa I didn't 
 think anybody was courtin' Susan for mar- 
 riage ; mebbe some young man had just called 
 in a-viewin'. I raly hope when Susan does 
 marry, she'll git a good provider and a stiddy 
 meetiner, for she's a desarvin' gal, an' never 
 speaks a misbeholden word o' nobody, an' she 
 ought to have a likely husband." 
 
72 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 There was great excitement one day, when 
 an adventurous young man, who had taken his 
 life in his hand and gone out some years before 
 to "the Hio" (Ohio), to "set up" in business, 
 arrived in the village, and called the same even- 
 ing on Susan. 
 
 Aunt Puah said, " He's a very pooty-appearin' 
 young man, and I have heerd that he was a 
 stiddy meetiner, but what a dreadful thing it 
 would be, if he has any serious intention, to 
 have Susan Pinkham, the likeliest gal that 
 walks into our meetin'-house of a Sunday, go 
 off to that heathenish place, where the sound 
 o' the gospel is never heerd. When I see her 
 a-settin' up in the singers' seats last Sundaj^ 
 lookin' so complete, it fairly made the tears 
 come into my eyes, to think of her goin' off 
 there with a stranger, where she could never 
 hear the sound of a meetin'-house bell. But 
 then I said, ' Lord-a-massy, pa ! maybe the fellar 
 hain't no serious intentions, arter all.' " 
 
 It was found that the young man who came 
 from " the Hio " did call for some purpose on 
 
AUNT PUAH. 73 
 
 Susan Pinkham the first evening after he arrived. 
 He went viewin' with serious intentions. Susan 
 Pinkham soon clianged her situation, and the 
 young man took her away from Brampton to a 
 fine house he had built in the vicinity of Boston. 
 The old-time houses in a New England village 
 were always placed very near the road, where 
 every passer-by could be seen from the windows, 
 and discussing their coming and going was the 
 entertainment of the village folk. Susan Pink- 
 ham's grandmother was one of Aunt Puah's 
 contemporaries, and when she left the neighbor- 
 hood to go to the new and strange place to live 
 with her granddaughter, there was great com- 
 motion, and Aunt Puah said 7iothin seemed 
 nateral. Never a day had passed for above 
 forty year, that she had not run in to see Mis' 
 Smith. She raly didn't know what to do with 
 herself. 
 
 The spring following Mis' Smith's removal 
 from Brampton, Aunt Puah was persuaded to 
 go and pay a visit to her old neighbor. When 
 she arrived and drove up the long avenue under 
 
74 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 overhanging elms, with the green shaven lawn 
 stretching out on either side, half a mile from 
 the main road, she said, '' Well, I should think 
 Mis' Smith would be dreadful lonesome so fur 
 from the road. I suppose they built here in a 
 pastur, 'cause land was cheaper so out o' the 
 way o' folks." 
 
 The meeting of the two old friends was excit- 
 ing. Mis' Smith had a thousand questions to 
 ask, and all the funerals and meetings and jelly- 
 making and soap-making were talked over the 
 first day, varied with a pinch of snuff now 
 and then, and a nap after dinner. The knit- 
 ting needles flew as fast as the tongues, and 
 Mis' Smith confided to Aunt Puah that she 
 never expected to have to live in a pastur. 
 She had tried to get used to't, but for her 
 part she never could see why people wanted 
 to move out of the world. 
 
 ''To tell the truth, Puah, there is a good 
 many ways I can't get used to. Why, they 
 have a bell to ring at the front door, and 
 Susan thinks it is a dreadful thing if I jest 
 
AUNT PUAH. 75 
 
 step out to see who's come. I always thought 
 it was more neighborly to go to the door and 
 let a neighbor in, than 'twas to send a hired 
 gal to the door. Then they have them glass 
 bowls to wash your hands in ; I never was 
 brot up to wash my hands at the table. But 
 them holes in the floor where the heat comes 
 up ere the heeterer. I tell Susan I druther 
 have my old iron dogs with a good hickory 
 log laid onto um in the great kitchen fireplace 
 in Brampton, than all the furnaces and registers 
 in the world. I tell ye, Puah, there is a dread- 
 ful fallin' off from the good old ways I have 
 been used to all my life, but I spose I shall 
 get used to't if I live long enough. It is putty 
 hard to learn new ways arter you are seventy 
 year old. Susan's husband is a very likely 
 man, and never speaks a misbeholden word to 
 aobody, and he is a complete pervider ; hut dear 
 me suz^ give me the old kitchen and the old 
 garden in Brampton — I druther have um than 
 all the bay winders, and furnaces, and hot- 
 houses in the world." 
 
76 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 The next day Aunt Puah took leave of Mis' 
 Smith, and when she reached home she told pa 
 she'd had a complete visit, but she was glad 
 enough to git home to the old kitchen fireplace, 
 and set down in the front winder where she 
 could see folks go by. For her part she hoped 
 she should never have to live in a pastur. 
 
 Aunt Puah had a nephew who lived in 
 Boston, and was very '' well-to-do " in worldly 
 goods, though, as she remarked, '^ It's a great 
 pity so likely a man ain't a more stiddy meet- 
 iner." He had much affection for his aunt, and 
 made it a point to visit her once a year. On 
 these occasions he always urged her to pay a 
 visit to the city, but she argued there would be 
 no one to see to her chickens, and pig, and cow, 
 if she should go away, and she never could be 
 persuaded to leave her post of duty. 
 
 At length after frequent solicitations from 
 the city relatives, helped on by Aunt Puah and 
 the neighbors, who said '-'Twas flyin' in the 
 face o' Providence " to neglect such a chance, 
 pa was persuaded to accept the invitation, and 
 
AUNT PUAH. 77 
 
 go to Boston for a visit, where he had been but 
 once before, and that when he was quite a 
 young man. Aunt Puah brought out the Sun- 
 day coat and trousers, which of late years had 
 seldom seen the light of day; the best "shirt 
 front " and collar had an extra polish, and after 
 much talk it was decided that pa must have a 
 new necktie, and have the buttons changed on 
 his coat, for she "wouldn't have her nephew's 
 wife look down upon the country relations ; she 
 meant, if pa did go to the city, he should look 
 as good as anybody." 
 
 Days and nights were spent in planning for 
 this visit, and Aunt Puah said she "couldn't help 
 layin' awake o' nights thinkin' o' what might hap- 
 pen to pa, for 'twas a very ventersome journey." 
 
 When the day arrived for him to start, she 
 mildly suggested that she would like to have 
 him buy her a small shawl ; she had long 
 wanted one to fling over her shoulders in a cool 
 day, and she had no doubt he could find one 
 which would be prettier and cheaper than any- 
 thing she could find in Brampton, and "she 
 
78 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 raly f^t she would like something from the 
 city ; she didn't know as she had ever had any- 
 thing in her life bought a-purpose for her in 
 Boston." Pa, feeling a little tender at the 
 thought of parting, promised to see what he 
 could do about a shawl, if she would take good 
 care of the " critters " while he was gone. She 
 said: "Pa, you've never wrote me a letter in 
 your life, an' I do hope when you git safely 
 there, yoii'll write me a line and let me know 
 how you bore the journey. I'll buy a sheet o' 
 paper an' put a wafer in, so you won't have no 
 trouble about that." 
 
 Pa was absent a week, and, faithful to his 
 promise, he sent a letter. It read thus : — 
 
 Respected Lady : — I got here safe, and I am very 
 well, and hope you are the same. I shall be glad to git 
 home, for the pride o' the airth that I see here is enough 
 to ruin the nation. Gad! the women folks are too lazy 
 to set up in their carriages. They loll back and look as 
 if they was goin' to sleep, and I don't s'pose one of 'em 
 could milk a cow or feed a pig. Abijah has a proper 
 dairy o' horses, an' I have rid all over Boston. There 
 wan't no need o' puttin' them boughten buttons on my 
 coat, for nobody noticed 'em. I am 
 
 Your Respected Husband. 
 
AUNT PUAH. 79 
 
 Aunt Puah treasured this letter to the last 
 day of her life, and always kept it in a box in 
 the corner of her upper bureau drawer in the 
 spare chamber. 
 
 Saturday night brought the traveller home, 
 and the neighbors all gathered to hear the ex- 
 citing account of pa's journey to Boston. Aunt 
 Puah's mind, if the truth must be told, was so 
 exercised about the expected shawl, that she 
 really could not give her undivided attention to 
 the description of the visit and the journey, 
 and, after the neighbors had gone, she said cau- 
 tiously : 
 
 " Well, pa, you didn't bring my shawl, did 
 ye?" 
 
 " Sartin ! " he replied ; " I allers do as I agree, 
 don't I ? " and began fumbling in his waistcoat 
 pocket. 
 
 A small package was drawn from its capa- 
 cious depths, and handed over with a good deal 
 of satisfaction to his wife. Upon undoing it 
 she found it to be a small handkerchief of some 
 ordinary material, with a border. He said : 
 
80 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 . "I hope you'll be satisfied; I paid four an' 
 six for't, and there's nine colors in the border." 
 In relating this experience, Aunt Puah said : 
 
 " Gals, I thought I should 'ave fainted away, 
 when I see that ere leetle totty handkerchief 
 in place o' the shawl I'd set my heart on." 
 
HULDY. 81 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HULDY. 
 
 Aunt Puah had a sister who was quite 
 unlike herself — a modest, shy little woman, of 
 whom she often used to talk. 
 
 '' My sister Huldy," she said, " was a puny, 
 fair-complected gal, and when Parson Jones 
 come to ask mother if she had any objections 
 to his keepin' company with Huldy, mother 
 replied, 'Why, no, Mr. Jones, I don't know as 
 I begretch ye keepin' company with Huldy, but 
 I raly pity the man that marries her, for she's a 
 proper weakly gal, and don't know the fust 
 thing about house-keepin'.' Why, I s'pose 
 Huldy couldn't make a mess o' sassages or a 
 barrel o' soap to save her life. 
 
 ^ '' But Mr. Jones wan't the least grain discour- 
 aged, an' afore long they was agreed, an' it was 
 settled as soon as mother could get the spinnin' 
 
82 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 an' weavin' done they should be married, tho' 
 Huldy said she didn't feel worthy of such a 
 high position. Mother was proper forehanded, 
 an' she allers kept a chist o' linen made up, so 
 as to have it ready in case any one o' us gals 
 should ' change our sitooation sudden.' I tell 
 ye, we had an oncommon lot o' quiltins that 
 summer. The neighbors thought bein' as Huldy 
 was goin' to marry a minister, she had oughter 
 have all the new figgers in quiltin', so we had 
 the herrin'-bone, the log-cabin, and the fox an' 
 geese patterns. Old Mis' Bragg got up one 
 quilt with the oak -leaf pattern, an' when it was 
 done it was pernounced the handsomest quilt 
 that had ever been made in Brampton, but I 
 tell ye it was an awful sight o' work. 'Twas all 
 pink an' white. Huldy always kep' that for 
 her spare-room bed, where the ministers used to 
 sleep when they'd come for a change with Mr. 
 Jones. Well, when it come fall Huldy was 
 about ready. Mr. Jones was rather in a hurry, 
 'cause he thought a minister could be more 
 useful if he had a suitable helpmeet ; an' then 
 
HULDY, 83 
 
 agin over in Berrytown, where he had just 
 settled, the deacons an' some o' the forard 
 church members thought there was them in the 
 parish that would make complete ministers' 
 wives. Deacon Stubs told Mr. Jones that there 
 was them that was capable an' economical, an' 
 acquainted with the ways o' the people, but ye 
 see Mr. Jones didn't want no advice upon that 
 subject, for his mind had been sot on Huldy 
 ever since the day he met her at Priest Brown's 
 ordination. Priest Brown was a distant kin to 
 one o' our neighbors, an' she invited Huldy an' 
 me to go over to Seekonk with her, to attend 
 the ordination. 
 
 " It was the first o' October, an' 'twas a won- 
 derful spell of weather, as hot as hayin' time. 
 I had got me a new p'leese trimmed with 
 squirrel skin fur. I had it ruther early, so 
 that Em'line Buck could make it afore the fall 
 work came on, an' I thought it was mighty 
 lucky I had it ready to wear that day. When 
 I waked up airly in the mornin' an' found how 
 hot it was, I was fairly discouraged. Huldy 
 
84 BKAMPTOX SKETCHES. 
 
 wore her white lace cape with a worked border, 
 an' she said I'd better wear mine, but I said to 
 myself, There won't be another ordination very 
 soon, an' I vum ! I'll wear that ere p'leese an' 
 my new turbin, if I roast. Well, gals, I thought 
 I should 've fainted away when I got inter the 
 meetin'-house, for there was Madam Price 
 right afore me, with a lace shawl on I She give 
 me one look, an' I tell you I wish'd that p'leese 
 was furder. I didn't feel nigh as complete as I 
 thought I was goin' to, but I set up as straight 
 as you please, an' made believe I wasn't a grain 
 too warm. 
 
 " Uncle Biah, mother's oldest brother, follered 
 the seas, an' he used to bring home curious 
 things from forin parts. Once he brought some 
 feathers from Africa, an' mother said I could 
 have 'em, an' do what I was a mine to with 
 'em, though she did hope I wouldn't think of 
 wearin' of 'em t' meetin', for she remembered 
 what Deacon Low said once when two gals from 
 the city come up to Brampton to board one 
 summer; sez he to his wife, when they come 
 
HULDY. 85 
 
 into meetin' and leaned forard to pray, — I sup- 
 pose they was some o' them 'Piscopal folks, — > 
 says he, 'What are them gals a-doin' of, wife?' 
 Sez she, 'Sh! they are prayin'.' Sez he, 'A- 
 prayin' with such trumpery on their heads as 
 that! the Lord forgive 'em, such prayers as 
 them '11 never rise 'bove the chimley tops ! ' To 
 tell the truth, gals, in them days I didn't think 
 so much about what the Lord would think as I 
 did what sartain young fellers would think. 
 
 "I was amazin' fond o' bright colors, and I 
 never could fall exactly into Deacon Low's way 
 o' thinkin'. He said it was very onbecoming in 
 a poor worm o' the dust to be decked out in 
 ribbins an' feathers, and he used to pint to the 
 graves an' repeat in marl'incholy tones, — 
 
 * Not all the gay pageants on earth, 
 Can with a dead body compare.' 
 
 Wal, as I was sayin', I made my turbin, and 
 put the feathers on, an' had 'em stand up in 
 front, an' wore it to the ordination, tho' mother 
 thought it was a leetle too gay. The day was 
 so hot, an' the sermon so long, I was pooty 
 
86 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 sleepy, an' I untied my turbin, an' afore I knew 
 it, got to noddin', an' off went the turbin onto 
 the floor. Sister Huldy give me an awful nudge 
 with her elbow, but I tell ye, there wan't no 
 need o' that nudge, for the fall o' the turbin 
 knocked all the sleep out o' me. I cast my eyes 
 'round to Huldy, an' she was blushin' up to her 
 hair; an' there was a smirk on everybody's 
 face, an' I noticed that even the ministers had 
 to use their handkerchiefs consid'able about 
 that time. I wasn't long in pickin' up that 
 turbin an' puttin' it on my head, but I was so 
 flustered I put it on hind side afore, an' the 
 feathers hung over the back instid o' the front. 
 I twitched it 'round leetle by leetle, till I got it 
 into place, an' that made everybody giggle the 
 more, and Huldy couldn't get over it ; she was 
 dreadfully cut up 'bout it, an' I was thankful 
 when that ordination Avas over. I never put 
 that p'leese an' turbin on agin till sleighin' 
 time, I tell ye. 
 
 " It was at this ordination that Mr. Jones first 
 see Huldy; Miss Smith — she that was Polly 
 
HULDY. 87 
 
 Brush — introduced 'em; she used to live in 
 Brampton. Well, mother thought they better 
 be married in the fall o' the year or the spring, 
 on account of Huldy's clothes, as, bein' the 
 minister's wife, she wouldn't like to wear her 
 bridal bunnet for the first time out of season. 
 
 '' Just before Huldy was married, as she was 
 goin' to be united to a minister who had seen 
 consid'able of the world, — he had been sev- 
 eral times to Boston, an' once as fur as New 
 York, to the westward, — it was thought best 
 that she should visit the city to do a little 
 tradin'. Pa give her ten dollars to spend, 
 cautioning of her to be sure an' bring some 
 on't back. Huldy was proper proud an pooty 
 high in the instep, I tell yer, an' she set her 
 heart on havin' a set of chany ; she said she 
 thought 'twould add to Mr. Jones's usefulness 
 in the parish, if they had a nice set of chany to 
 use when they invited the fust families to tea. 
 Huldy had a good deal of taste about fixin' up, 
 an' she thought it would be very suitable for 
 the minister's wife, bein' that she always set in 
 
88 BKAMPTO^ SKETCHES. 
 
 the front pew, to have a ribbin with a small 
 sprig on't for her bunnet, not a showy sprig but 
 some modest hgger, that wouldn't attract too 
 much attention, an' take the minds of the 
 people from the sermon. She thought if she 
 could find a ribbin an' a set of chany just to 
 her mind, she would be well fixed. 
 
 " I tell ye, gals, that was a great day when 
 Huldy started off for Boston with the old white 
 boss tackled up into the shay, an' her ten doh 
 lars in her wallet. She invited Mr. Jones's 
 sister to go with her. Mother was so worried 
 an' pestered in her mind for fear she would be 
 robbed, that she actoolly forgot to turn her 
 cheeses that mornin' ; why, I remember as well 
 ■'s if 'twas yesterday, how we all stood in the 
 great barn door an' watched that shay out of 
 sight way down the meetin'-house hill, won- 
 derin' what would happin to Huldy afore she 
 got back. They started oft* at break o' day, an' 
 got to Needham 'bout noon ; there they stopped 
 to bait their hoss, an' to eat the lunch mother 
 had put up for 'em. Mother mixed up a batch 
 
HULDY. 89 
 
 o' bread an' put it into the shay box when they 
 started, an' told Huldy it would be just riz 
 enough to bake by the time they'd got to 
 Boston, an' 'twould be very handy to make it 
 up into biscuit for tea. She put in a pat of 
 butter 'cause she thought a little grain of sweet 
 country butter would taste good to them city 
 folks, an' she said she meant to have Mr. Jones's 
 cousin know that Huldah had been used to 
 good livin', if she had been fetched up on a 
 farm. 
 
 '^They come in sight o' Boston just 'bout 
 sundown. Huldy took out her wallet to pay 
 the toll on the mill-dam, an' to make sure that 
 the ten dollars was safe, an' as she driv along 
 over the bridge, she said she cast her eyes over 
 the city an' thought to herself, ' Oh, that city 
 little knows what a sweep it's goin' to have ! ' 
 
 "I tell you 'twan't often in them days that a 
 gal had ten dollars to spend all to once. They 
 put up at Mr. Jones's cousin's in Lynde Street. 
 The city cousins was very perlite to Huldy, fer 
 the family was quite pleased with Mr. Jones's 
 
90 BRAMPTO]^ SKETCHES. 
 
 choice, an' airly the next mornin' Huldy started 
 out to view the streets, an' to do hei tradin'. 
 She said she thought there must have been a 
 great meetin' somewhere, there's so many folks 
 in the street, an' the confusion upset her so she 
 could hardly tell chany from common crockery. 
 Cousin took, her into Hanover Street, an' she 
 soon settled upon some cups and saucers she 
 thought proper for a minister's wife. There 
 was white with a small black figger; she 
 bought six cups an' saucers, a cream jug an' 
 sugar bowl, an' six perserve plates, an' paid six 
 dollars for 'em all. 
 
 "Cousin thought that Huldy could find a 
 pootier ribbin in Washington Street, tho' it was 
 gener'ly considered that goods was ruther dearer 
 on Washington Street, but bein' that the ribbin 
 was for the weddin' bunnet, an' it was only 
 once in a lifetime, Huldy an' cousin both 
 thought 'twould be wuth while to pay a leetle 
 more for't. So, after goin' into all the gret 
 stores where they kept ribbins, Huldy settled 
 upon a white one with a purple sprig on't. She 
 
HULDY. 91 
 
 bought three yards, an' paid four an' sixpence 
 a yard for't, an' 'twas a beauty. When Huldy 
 went t' meetin' the fust Sunday and walked up 
 the broad aisle after Mr. Jones, I tell yer she 
 looked like a picter beau. She bought a paper 
 o' pins, an' five year arter she was married that 
 same paper o' pins was in her upper bureau 
 drawer, an' not a dozen pins was missin' ; she 
 considered it was settin' a good example in 
 the parish to be savin' o' pins as well as o' 
 larger things. 
 
 " I told 'er she made me think of old Deacon 
 Bragg. Once when he went 'round to the 
 cross-roads to settle his bill at Cragin's store, 
 where he did his tradin', he found a paper of 
 needles had been charged to liim. He w^ent 
 home and asked his wife if she had bought a 
 paper o' needles at Cragin's ; she said, ' Hus- 
 ban', how could you think o' such a thing ! I 
 bought a paper o' needles when I was married 
 forty year ago, an' they ain't half on 'em gone 
 yet.' 
 
 " Well, the third day, when it was about time 
 
92 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 for Huldy to get home, we all stood waitin' in 
 the front door, an' we had begun to be a little 
 oneasy for fear they'd broke down, or sumthin' 
 had happened, when we looked up an' see the 
 ole white hoss pooty well tuckered out, just a- 
 climbin' the meetin'-house hill. I tell yer we 
 breathed free when Huldy was safe in the 
 house, an' we found there wasn't a piece o' the 
 chany so much as cracked. Huldy herself was 
 putty well jagged out, but then she said 'twas 
 but once in a lifetime. 
 
 "The next mornin' all the nigh neighbors 
 came in to hear about the journey, an' to see 
 how she'd got along with her tradin'. Huldy 
 had a complete faculty for tellin' about what 
 she'd seen, an' Mis' Gibb said she'd just as 
 leaves hear Huldy tell about a place, as to see 
 it herself. They all thought that she had done 
 well, and had got a complete settin' out. 
 'Twan't often 'n them days, that gals could go 
 to Boston for their weddin' things. 
 
 " Bein' as Huldy was to marry a minister, an' 
 go out o' town to live, everybody was oncom- 
 
HULDY. 93 
 
 mon interested in the weddin', an' we had 
 to make considerable preparation. The great 
 spare north chamber had to be fixed up for Mr. 
 Jones's family, an' we trimmed up the parlor 
 with sparagrass and wintergreen. 'Twas a 
 sight o' work to make the weddin' cake, and 
 the neighbors all turned in an' helped stone the 
 raisons an' beat the eggs, an' we had fust-rate 
 luck with it. 
 
 " Huldy took one great loaf with her to Ber- 
 rytown to pass 'round when the fust families 
 called on her. Her weddin' gown was a white 
 spotted muslin. It was made quite simple 
 with a straight gathered skirt, an' a short 
 waist tied with a cord an' tossle. She wore 
 the gold beads that had belonged to the gret- 
 aunt she was named fur, an' hanging on to 
 'em was a locket Mr. Jones give her with a 
 lock o' his hair in't. The waist was cut a leetle 
 low in front, for Huldy had a sweet, pooty 
 neck, an' the sleeves cum about to the elbow. 
 She held a bunch o' cinimen roses in her hand, 
 an' when the old minister said solomnly, 'I 
 
94 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 pronounce you man an' wife, an' what God 
 hath joined together let no man put asunder,' 
 Huldy's cheeks were as red as her roses, an' she 
 did look pooty enough to kiss. Even Mr. Jones 
 looked for a minnit as if there was a little 
 risin' o' worldly pride in his heart. Pa lent 
 'em the hoss and shay to drive over to Berry- 
 town, an' when they started off, the hull village 
 turned out to see 'em go. Mr. Jones said to pa 
 just as they was leavin' the old homes tide, ' I 
 feel it borne in upon my mind that I have made 
 a wise choicQ, an' that your daughter will make 
 a helpmeet in my great work.' Pa brushed 
 away a tear with his coat-sleeve, for he set great 
 store by Huldy, for all she had been so weakly, 
 and says he, 'You're carryin' off as likely a 
 gal as there is in Brampton, or any other town, 
 Mr. Jones.' 
 
 " Huldy made, after all, a tol'able good mana- 
 ger, an' had a good deal o' faculty about makin' 
 over Mr. Jones's clothes, an' her own ; I believe 
 she turned her black silk gown inside out, an' 
 upside down, half a dozen times. Why, she 
 
HULDY. 95 
 
 told me two dollars an' a half civered all her 
 expenses for a year, an' that was the beateree ! 
 I never could bring mine under five, do my 
 best. She wore her weddin' bunnet seven 
 year; and turned the ribbin every spring an' 
 fall, till at last there was makin' up a barrel in 
 the parish to send to ' the Hio ' (Ohio) to 
 some o' them missionaries, an' Huldy wanted to 
 do her part^ so she said to Mr. Jones that her 
 best bunnit, though she had wore it consid'able 
 time, was not all wore out, an' she fairly hated 
 to part with it, but she s'posed it was her duty 
 to set a good example to the people in the 
 church, an' she guessed she would put the 
 bunnit into the barrel. Mr. Jones remarked 
 that it was a Christian duty to make sacrifices 
 for the furtherance o' the gospel, an' the good 
 o' the heathen." 
 
96 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 VISITS TO THE SPRINGS. 
 
 Of all the stories Aunt Puah used to tell, 
 nothing delighted "us girls" more than her 
 account of visits to the Springs (Balls ton Spa). 
 She said, — 
 
 "When Huldy was about eighteen year old 
 'Bijah went to the Springs. It was a great 
 affair in them days to go to the Springs. No- 
 body in Brampton had ever took so long a jour- 
 ney, and folks talked a good deal about 'Bijah's 
 goin', but when he asked his Aunt Huldy to go 
 with him, the whole village was up in eend. 
 Ye see, Huldy was a proper pooty gal. She 
 was weakly, an' everybody favored her. 'Bijah 
 allers took to her more'n to any of his other 
 aunts, 'cause she was nigher his age. Folks 
 thought mother was crazy to think o' lettin' 
 Huldy go off to them unknown parts, where, 
 
VISITS TO THE SPlilNGS. 97 
 
 they said, accordin' to accounts, there wuz wild 
 Injuns, and they should never expect to see her 
 alive ag'in. But mother was a master hand to 
 have her own way, and she wanted her childun 
 to have everything that was goin'. She knew 
 'twould be a great thing for Huldy, and for all 
 the family, t' have her see so much o' the world ; 
 and, after considerin' upon 't awhile, she told 
 'Bijah she'd concluded 'twould be flyin' in the 
 face o' Providence not to take up with such 
 an offer, and sheVl give her consent t' let 
 Huldy go. 
 
 "Wal, the next thing was t' fit her out — it 
 was most ekal to fittin' out a gal t' be married. 
 Of course she had her black silk gown, but we 
 thought, bein' as 'Bijah's wife was so fash'na- 
 ble, she orter have a change, so we bo't her a 
 sarsnet. Mother got out the little hair trunk 
 she had when she was married — it was quite 
 good, though the moths got into 't one summer — 
 and I told Huldy I'd lay in her things. So I 
 pinned up her black silk in one o' mother's best 
 towels, and laid it at the bottom o' the trunk 
 
98 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 wf some papers over it, an' the sarsnet on top. 
 In the till I put her muslin cape, an' silk stock- 
 in's, an' a couple o' artificial roses, one red an' 
 one white un, that 'Bijah's wife had gi'n her, 
 an' she never had a chance to wear. Huldy 
 said, when I put the roses in, she'd wear 'em to 
 dinner, the pink one day and the white the 
 next, for she didn't mean 'Bijah's wife should 
 be ashamed of her ; and she had heerd that they 
 dressed up every day as if they was goin' to 
 meetin'. 
 
 " She wore her bombersette to journey in, an' 
 we thought she was fixed out complete. She 
 bore the ride very well — better 'n we expected. 
 They sta3^ed 't the Springs 'bout a week, but I 
 was beat when she come home an' told us she 
 never took her black silk out o' the trunk I 
 
 " Sez I, ' Huldy, what in the name o' natur 
 was the reason you didn't take that ere gown 
 out? If there's ever a time when you wanted 
 to look yer best, I should 'a' thought 'twould 
 'a' been when 'Bijah an' his wife took yer to the 
 Springs.' 
 
VISITS TO THE SPRINGS. 99 
 
 " Sez she, ' Sister Puah, I knew I never 
 could fold up that gown as well as you did, 
 an' I thought 'Bijah's wife would think jest 
 as much o' me if I wore my bombersette in 
 the mornin' an' my sarsnet in the afternoon. 
 I jest slipped my roses into my hair, 'cause they 
 mostly wore flowers or somethin' on their heads 
 for dinner, an' 'Bijah's wife never said a word 
 about it.' 
 
 " ' Wal,' sez I, ' Huldy, I've a consate that 
 'Bijah's wife 'ud be too perlite t' say anything, 
 no matter what she thought.' 
 
 " They was gone a month, for it took half o' 
 that time t' go an' come. When she got home, 
 mother said the neighbors orter hear 'bout her 
 adventers, for Huldy was a great fav'rite in the 
 village, an' as 'twas 'bout time for her summer 
 tea party, she might as well ask 'em all then, 
 an' kill two birds wd' one stone. O' course 
 they all come, an' as soon as they was fairly 
 seated, Huldy begun. She never was one to 
 put on airs, but I must own she was a leetle set 
 up when she got home from the Springs, an' 
 
100 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 'twa'n't strange if she was a leetle galish, for 
 nobody in Brampton had ever been to the 
 Springs afore. Huldy had such a complete 
 fac'lty for settin' out her journey and what she 
 see while she was there, that the neighbors felt 
 as if they'd raly like to go themselves. Em'- 
 line Buck was amazin' cut up when Huldy 
 come to the part o' her story where she didn't 
 take out her black silk gown, 'cause she said 
 she knew there wa'n't a better-fittin' gown 
 there, if she did make it. Huldy said she 
 s'posed 'twas faint enough not to take it out, 
 but she knew she couldn't fold it again as com- 
 plete as sister Puah did, and she thought she'd 
 ruther not. 
 
 " I never see the neighbors so stirred up I 
 Mis' Smith declared that if she could git Mr. 
 Smith started she'd go herself. Mis' Jones said 
 they could go and git back afore harvestin' and 
 picklin' come on ; an' Mis' Gibbs said she 
 wouldn't begrutch goin' without a new winter 
 gown if she could see all Huldy see. The 
 widder Brown thought 'twas a pity if Bramp- 
 
VISITS TO THE SPKINGS. lUl 
 
 ton folks couldn't journey some as well as the 
 rest o' the world, an' bein' as 'twas more settled 
 up there than they thought afore Huldy went, 
 she didn't see why they couldn't jine together 
 and start off as soon as hayin' was well out o' 
 the way. Afore the tea party broke up, they 
 agreed to set out as soon's they could git ready, 
 if the men folks'd fall in. I tell ye, Mis' Smith 
 eenamost give it up afore she could git Mr. Jo 
 to say that he'd go ; he allers was a dreadful 
 off ox. Squire Gibbs was quite agreeable when 
 it was fust mentioned, and Mr. Jones allers did 
 jest what Mis' Jones said. These six an' widder 
 Brown an' Mis' Davis — she that was a Buck — 
 was the party. 
 
 " Wal, gals, I do s'pose thare never was such 
 prep'rations and fixin's in Brampton afore. 
 Huldy had told 'em they must take all their 
 best things, 'cause it was jest like an ordination 
 every day. She said the ladies wore their 
 gowns draggin' consid'able on the floor, and 
 the widder Brown said she allers did like the 
 looks o' them draggin' gowns she'd seen in pic- 
 
i c c : fr r. 
 
 102 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 turs, but she didn't think she had a skirt she 
 could led down, though she could turn her black 
 silk away in the neck, an' put in her piece o' 
 English thread lace, an' make it look as com- 
 plete as anybody's. Mis' Davis said mebbe she 
 hadn't orter mention it, but the widder Brown 
 did perk up pooty lively. 
 
 " They started off in the stage one mornin' in 
 August, an' the whole village was up 'n arms. 
 That night, in prayer-meetin'. Deacon Low 
 prayed for them that was in danger o' bein' 
 gi'n over to the vanities o' this perishin' world, 
 an' we all knew well enough who he meant. 
 
 "They kalk'lated to be gone 'bout three 
 weeks — that would give 'em a couple o' days 
 to the Springs. When they got there they was 
 pooty well tuckered out, and 'twas in the midst 
 of a terrible thunder storm. They driv to a 
 large tavern to put up. The rain was a-pourin', 
 an' they was a-goin' in, when the landlord met 
 'em and told 'em they couldn't stay there, for 
 every room was full. Mr. Jo wa'n't a bit 
 scared, an' he spoke up, an' sez he, ' Well, we 
 
VISITS TO THE SPRINGS. 103 
 
 »}iall stay here. We sha'n't go a step furder in 
 this rain t'-night.' The landlord said, ' You'll 
 have to lay on the floor if you do stay.' 
 
 " 'Twas finally settled that he should put beds 
 in the parlor for the women folks, an' the men 
 folks must take care o' themselves. The men 
 was so orful tired they laid down on the benches 
 in the entry, an' the women fixed themselves 
 the best they could, an' was jest gittin' to sleep 
 when Mis' Jo begun to pipe up so loud that 
 everybody waked up, an' said, — 
 
 " ' Wal, there's no more sleep for us t'-night 
 if this 's goin' to be kep' up!' Finally Mis' 
 Gibbs said to Mis' Davis, ' Do go. Mis' Davis, 
 an' wake up Mis' Jo, an' ask her to turn on 
 t'other side, an' stop that puffin' an' blowin', 
 for we can't sleep a wink. She'll bear it from 
 you, 'cause you're so pooty spoken.' 
 
 "At last they settled down an' got into a 
 sound sleep jest afore daybreak, when a boy 
 came an' routed 'em out, 'cause the parlor had 
 to be fixed up for the company. The men 
 folks had been up an hour or two when 
 
104 BKAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 the women went out into the entry an' 
 found 'em. 
 
 " They wa'n't very smilin', for sleepin' on 
 benches arter such a long journey, when they 
 was used to good feather beds, was ruther 
 aggravatin'. They all went out afore breakfast 
 to taste o' the water down t' the Spring. Mr. 
 Jo took a glass an' sipped a little, an' sez he, 
 ' Wal, if you want t' drink that ere stuff you 
 can ; it tastes worse'n operdildoc ! ' 
 
 '' They thought 'twas their duty to taste the 
 water as long as they'd come so fer, but one 
 taste was enough — they'd ruther have the 
 water in their old wells 't home than all the 
 springs o' Balls ton. 
 
 '' After breakfast some o' the company went 
 away, an' the landlord give the folks rooms up 
 to the top o' the house. They got out their 
 best gowns an' went to take a walk an' then 
 had dinner. That afternoon they sot on the 
 piazzer an' heerd the music play awhile, an' 
 watched the city ladies trailin' their gowns 
 over the floors. Mis' Gibbs said she thought 
 
VISITS TO THE SPRINGS. 105 
 
 'twas a plaggy shame t' have them butiful silks 
 a-switchiii' round, wipin' up the dust. They'd 
 seen so much they thought they'd go to bed 
 aiiiy that night an' git rested; but the next 
 mornin' they agreed that as for sleepin' on such 
 beds another night, they'd be hanged fust! 
 Why ! the beds was harder'n a pine board ; so 
 they all started for home. 
 
 "• The stage left very airly, and they was all 
 on board except Mr. Jo, who couldn't be found. 
 Mis' Jo got terrible stirred up, an' she told the 
 stage-driver when he asked fer her fare, sez she, 
 ' Don't you ask me for fare ! I won't pay you a 
 cent till you find my husband.' 
 
 " All the women had cap-boxes in their hands, 
 an' the stage was pooty well filled up by the 
 time they got fairly in. The driver said he 
 couldn't be hendered no longer, ah' they started 
 off. . Mis' Jo was in a terrible fluster, and 
 declared she'd git out if Mr. Jo didn't ketch up 
 with 'em afore they got to the fust turn in the 
 road. Jest as they was goin' 'round the corner, 
 they heerd somebody callin', an' they looked out, 
 
106 BKAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 an' there was Mr. Jo a-runnin' an' hollerin' to 
 'em to stop. Mis' Jo put her head out o' the 
 winder and see liim comin', and sez she to the 
 stage-driver, ' Do you stop, or every one on us 
 '11 git out o' this stage ! ' Soon as he come 
 within hearin'. Mis' Jo s^z to him, ' Wal I 
 you've sarved us a pooty trick ! What on airth 
 have you been doin' ? ' An' sez he, ' Gor-ri ! 
 don't say nothin'. I've had trouble enough. 
 I jest went 'round the corner to git a leetle 
 tobacker to start with, an' when I come back 
 the stage had gone.' Mis' Jo was satisfied, an' 
 they all settled down an' got home without any 
 more fuss. When they arriv', I tell ye, gals, 
 we all had a pooty lively time. There wa'n't 
 nothin' talked about but that ere journey an' 
 visit all that fall an' winter. The widder 
 Brown pieced down her best gown, and went 
 to the Thanksgivin' ball wi' the skirt a-trailin' 
 on the floor. The colonel o' the Brampton 
 Militia said he'd resign his position afore he'd 
 dance with a woman that had her gown a-wipin' 
 up the dust every step she took." 
 
QUEER PEOPLE. 107 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 QUEER PEOPLE. 
 
 Not far from the meeting-house stood a little 
 red house with the paint mostly washed off. 
 Its bare yard was enclosed by a tumble-down 
 fence; its front door had lost every trace of 
 paint; and its windows were decorated here 
 and there with bits of old calico and patches of 
 putty stuffed into the broken panes. There 
 was not even a cluster of Bouncing Bets to re- 
 lieve the utter barrenness of the place, and 
 only now and then a stunted dandelion strug- 
 gled up through the reluctant grass. Mis' 
 Hanscom had no eye for beauty, and no leisure 
 for worldly adornments either for her house or 
 her person. All the time except what she was 
 obliged to give to keep soul and body together 
 was spent in reading her Bible and going to 
 meeting. Every worldly interest was subservi- 
 
108 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 ent to these. She would often take her wash- 
 ing and baking to a neighbor's 'house for the 
 purpose of conversing upon Bible topics. She 
 could repeat Scripture from Genesis to Revela- 
 tion, but the good woman was utterly ignorant 
 of everything that pertained to worldly com- 
 fort, and oftentimes the dinner yas forgotten, 
 and the supper carried far into the evening, 
 because Mis' Hanscom was lost in spiritual 
 meditations. 
 
 She was a small woman, with little squinting 
 eyes, a wrinkled face, and a placid, sanctimo- 
 nious smile. Her thin lips were always twisted 
 a little to one side, and her head hung over one 
 shoulder while she moved about with a lacka- 
 daisical indifference to the pomps and vanities 
 of the world. Sunday was the great day of the 
 week with her, when all earthly affairs were 
 trodden under foot. We girls used to watch to 
 see Mis' Hanscom come into church. She always 
 struck an attitude in the entry, not from per- 
 sonal vanity but from pious emotion. It was as 
 if she thought an unworldly expression and a 
 
QUEER PEOPLE. 109 
 
 slow pious gait should be assumed when going 
 into the house of the Lord. Her head was a 
 little more on one side and her mouth a little 
 more twisted, her old straw bonnet was slightly 
 awry, and with her large palm-leaf fan that 
 swayed slowly to and fro, keeping time to her 
 solemn measured advance, she moved up the 
 broad aisle to the very last seat in the meeting- 
 house. 
 
 This studied entrance was the more notice- 
 able because the congregation faced the door, 
 the pulpit being in front. Her muscles never 
 relaxed, her expression never varied, her fan 
 never ceased its solemn motion till she reached 
 her seat at the head of the pew which was 
 against the wall, between the windows that 
 looked out into the old graveyard. In this 
 graveyard she spent her noonings, walking 
 among its grassy mounds, and meditating on 
 the* end of her earthly life, which end she kept 
 so constantly in view, she could never seem 
 to see that she had any active duties in the 
 present. 
 
110 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 She always spoke of herself as a '^poor 
 dyin' creeter," and went about as if she were 
 attending her own funeral. The simple food 
 she had was prepared on Saturday, so that 
 the Sabbath need not be encroached upon. The 
 beans and brown-bread were consigned to the 
 brick QfVen on a Saturday night, and the family 
 helped themselves as hunger demanded. The 
 dishes were left over to be washed, and Mis' 
 Hanscom might be seen on Monday morning 
 seated at the sink, — for she always sat down 
 to do everything, — with a complacent pious 
 solemnity on her face, her hands dropping into 
 her lap between the washing of each cup and 
 saucer, as she meditated upon the sermon, and, 
 with a deep sigh at the sinfulness of the poor 
 worms of the dust, applied the passages of re- 
 proof to her neighbors. She was very weakly 
 and "quite bilerous," she used to say, and a 
 favorite expression of hers was, " Nobody is so 
 apt to ketch cold as poor human nater." 
 
 Mis' Hanscom was the agent in Brampton 
 for the Moral Reform Society, and she consid- 
 
QUEER PEOPLE. Ill 
 
 ered it a part of her pious mission to call on all 
 the families in the village to solicit subscrip- 
 tions. Aunt Puah had several times contrib- 
 uted, and had become a little impatient with 
 Mis' Hanscom's long-drawn-out discourses upon 
 the duty of giving, and she said to her, " I'll 
 give you ten cents for the Moral Reform this 
 year, if you'll never call on me agin." 
 
 Mis' Hanscom's yearly contribution had been 
 five cents for many years, and a dollar was the 
 sum total collected in Brampton for this charity. 
 The "widder" Brown, who was not in sympa- 
 thy with this society, remarked sarcastically 
 that '' it would take few such contributions as 
 this to keep up any association ! " 
 
 Aunt Puah said she didn't care nothin' about 
 Moral Reform, but she'd ruther give ten cents 
 any day than to be pestered with Mis' Hanscom. 
 This call for the Moral Reform Society was 
 made on Monday morning. 
 
 It was a favorite remark of Aunt Puah's, 
 concerning any one who was deficient in energy 
 and thrift, that he or she was " born in the dead 
 
112 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 o' the night." And as she saw Mis' Hanscom's 
 shambling figure moving down the yard where 
 the sweet, white clothes were hanging on the 
 line, — for the thrifty housewives of Brampton 
 would as soon have thought of disregarding the 
 Sabbath as of allowing Monday to pass with- 
 out doing the family washing, and Aunt Puah 
 always kept an eye on her neighbors, to see 
 which one of them would have the washing out 
 earliest, — she said to Pa, " I vum I I'm glad I 
 was born in the mornin' instid o' the dead o' 
 the night, as Mis' Hanscom was." 
 
 There was another old woman in Brampton 
 whom Aunt Puah considered a notable example 
 of " dead o' the night " people — Beulah War- 
 field, who wandered about the town asking one 
 neighbor for " a little piece of meat jest to re- 
 member you by," and another for a few potatoes 
 or a cabbage " jest to remember you by." 
 
 This poor old woman spent her days in roam- 
 ing over the hills and fields of Brampton, and 
 her nights in the little hovel by the woodside, 
 which she called home. She was happy, and 
 
QUEER PEOPLE. 113 
 
 she harmed nobody. The little children fol- 
 lowed poor old Beulah, and shared their few 
 plums and peppermints with her, as they sat on 
 the low bench by the hovel door and heard her 
 childish babble. Sometimes she would give 
 them a few berries " jest to remember her by," 
 and sometimes amuse them by singing in her 
 sharp falsetto, snatches of old songs she had 
 learned in her childhood. So she lived and died 
 serving perhaps her day and generation, her 
 very helplessness and innocence appealing to 
 the kindly impulses of the children. 
 
 Mis' Hanscom had a brother whose mental 
 capacity was about equal to her own. But his 
 instinct led him in entirely opposite ways. He 
 was the village straggler and the village wag, 
 the butt of the boys and the terror of the girls, 
 as he wandered about, sleeping in barns and 
 sheds wherever the night found him, and beg- 
 ging his bread and cider — for cider was the 
 chief delight of his life — from house to house. 
 He was never known to do an honest day's 
 work. He would, in the season, pick berries. 
 
114 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 or dig Hag-root and sell it for a few pennies : 
 and he had a certain intuition about herbs, and 
 would gather sassafras and wintergreen and 
 catnip, and bring them to the doctor with the 
 request that he might swap them for a mug of 
 cider. Sometimes for a mug of cider he would 
 go two or three miles to do an errand for a 
 neighbor, and would often improve such oppor- 
 tunities to steal from some garden on his way a 
 rose-bush or a peony, and sell it in the village. 
 He never entered a church, and he used to call 
 his sister under-witted because she went to 
 meeting so much. Neither reproof nor expos- 
 tulation had any effect upon him. He was 
 always in rags and tatters, and his only ambition 
 in life was to get as much cider as he wished. 
 
 In his utter disregard of appearances, '' Old 
 Jake," as he was called, was quite unlike 
 another of the strange characters of Brampton, 
 Billy Buck, a town pauper, with the most lofty 
 ideas of his own consequence, and who consid- 
 ered himself an orator. He would roam about 
 the village making speeches in the most high- 
 
QUEER PEOPLE. 115 
 
 flown language whenever he could find on the 
 corners of the streets or in the little shops two 
 or three people together. If he could not get 
 hearers elsewhere, he w^ould stand before the 
 corn-fields, and for an hour address the waving 
 stalks in the most grandiloquent language, and 
 with the most impassioned gestures, apparently 
 as well satisfied as if the rustling leaves had 
 been a sea of upturned faces. 
 
 He would even become so excited with his 
 own oratory that he would wipe the tears from 
 his eyes and exclaim in loud tones, " Glory to 
 Gideon ! Glory to Gideon, my hearers ! " 
 
 His eloquence had no relation to the subject 
 in hand, he would burst forth wdth the most 
 remarkable expressions, calling his hearers igno- 
 ble pedestrians, ignominious aristocrats, aborig- 
 inal unbelievers, unsophisticated hypocrites, or 
 any other high-sounding terms that happened to 
 come into his head. Poor old Billy lived and 
 died in the almshouse and was buried in a pau- 
 per's grave. He had the idea that he himself 
 was a patrician of the first order, and perhaps 
 
116 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 he was more happy through his long life than 
 many a one born to the purple. 
 
 There was a strange old man in Brampton — 
 strange in that he regarded everything that 
 happened to him as lucky. He was as poor as 
 poverty, but he saw that poverty was best for 
 him, because nobody could tell what he might 
 have been tempted to do if he were rich. 
 
 As it was, he said, there was two things that 
 never agreed with him — " sawing wood and 
 hard work. I hain't nothin' t' worry 'bout, and 
 ary one o' my neighbors would lend a helpin' 
 hand in case o' need." If he was laid up with 
 a long sickness in winter he said to the doctor, 
 ''Why, I tell Polly" (his patient wife) "it's 
 mighty lucky my sickness has happened in 
 winter, 'cause if it was in summer, I might lose 
 a good many jobs o' work." 
 
 Old Smith fell one day when he was driving 
 a heavy load of wood, and the wheel went over 
 his leg and broke it. The neighbors wondered 
 what he would find lucky about this. As soon 
 as he could speak, he said in a cheerful tone. 
 
QUEER PEOPLE. 117 
 
 "I swan! it's pleggy lucky my team was on 
 level ground; it would have been so much 
 worse if I had been going down hill, and my 
 wood had all tumbled off ; and then again it's 
 lucky it's my leg instead o' my neck ! " So old 
 Smith went through life, always looking on the 
 lucky side. 
 
 To complete the play of life in the little 
 village, there must be a jester. The jester of 
 Brampton was a poor, half-witted fellow, Jack 
 Downs by name. He was a happy "do-noth- 
 ing," whose business in life it was to make 
 merry both old and young, and the church 
 seemed to be his favorite stage to enact come- 
 dies. One Sunday he sat in the front seat of 
 the gallery, and with a pin fashioned into a 
 fish-hook, he was in the act of letting it down 
 upon the wig of an old man, who sat just be- 
 neath him, when the minister stopped in his 
 sermon, and, in tones of stern reproof, called out 
 to the offender. Still going on with his opera- 
 tions, he coolly replied, '' Mind your preachin' ! 
 Mind your preachin' ! I'm a fisher o' men." 
 
118 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 On another Sunday, Jack Downs filled his 
 pockets with decayed apples, and went in sober 
 and respectable fashion to church, and took his 
 usual seat in the high front gallery. When the 
 preacher had reached the " tenthly " in his ser- 
 mon, and the elderly people had become a little 
 drowsy, Jack drew carefully from his pocket a 
 soft apple, and at a moment when the tithing 
 man's attention was directed to an unruly boy 
 on the opposite side of the gallery, he aimed 
 his apple at the head of the nodding deacon 
 just at the time of the minister's most solemn 
 words of application. 
 
 Of course it was not in poor human nature 
 to look solemn under such circumstances, and 
 it must be confessed there was not grace 
 enough to keep down the risibles of the pious 
 old people, or to suppress the giggle of the 
 younger ones, when Jack spoke out in loud 
 tones, " Parson, you mind your preachin'. I'll 
 keep the devils awake." 
 
 A number of peculiar men in Brampton went 
 under the name of the " Smith Tribe." The 
 
QUEER PEOPLE. 119 
 
 heads or leaders of this tribe were five brothers 
 " Sraith," — Joe, Aaron, Bill, Moses, and Nat. 
 They held themselves quite aloof from the vil- 
 lage folk, and had forms and ceremonies pecul- 
 iar to themselves. Nat, the oldest, was called 
 " God Smith " and he always wore on his hat 
 a band with the words, / am God. All the 
 tribe consulted him even about the minutest 
 details. They were opposed to all existing 
 forms of religion, but had their own strange 
 forms, which they constantly practised. They 
 read the Bible, but interpreted it according to 
 their own views. 
 
 One custom among them was to march 
 around the old meeting-house seven times, 
 once a week, blowing a trumpet, with "God 
 Smith" at the head of the procession. They 
 did not believe in marriage ceremonies. The 
 funeral service they performed among them- 
 selves and never permitted a minister to take 
 part in any of their exercises. They allowed 
 only one child to a family. 
 
 One strange custom was, never to turn back. 
 
120 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 If for any reason they found it necessary to 
 return to the place from which they started, they 
 would go any distance round rather than turn 
 back. For a year or more before " God Smith " 
 died, he was never known to speak to any one. 
 
 The eccentric and talented Hannah Adams 
 once taught school in Brampton, and the old 
 people to this day like to tell stories of her odd, 
 absent-minded pranks. 
 
 It was from Brampton in the old stage-coach 
 that she started on a journey to Boston with 
 her " great bundle, little bundle, bandbox, and 
 bag," and it happened that the only other 
 passenger in the stage was a divinity student 
 who had been studying with Mr. Howe. The 
 young man counted it great luck that he should 
 have fallen in with the distinguished author, 
 and he tried to engage her in conversation, but 
 she only answered his questions in monosyl- 
 lables, and repeated " great box, little box, 
 bandbox, and bag ; " and this she kept repeating 
 at short intervals throughout the journey, much 
 to the disappointment of the embryo minister. 
 
QUEER PEOPLE. 121 
 
 The only method of noting the lapse of time 
 in the old schoolhouse was by means of an 
 hour-glass, and this the children used to turn up 
 or down as suited their wishes when Hannah 
 was lost in some abstract, metaphysical subject, 
 and wholly oblivious of their presence, to say 
 nothing to their conduct, — and thus get out 
 of school an hour earlier. Aunt Puah used 
 to say to any girl who was uncommonly fond 
 of her books, and spent more time over them 
 than she thought desirable, when she ought 
 to be at her " spinnin'," : — '' Come, Harnna 
 Ardams, you have lost time enough over that 
 ere book ; if you read so much you won't know 
 no more than she does, an' she never has her 
 wits about her. Maybe she's got intellec' 
 enough, but for my part I druther have a little 
 grain o' common sense than to have so much 
 intellec'." 
 
122 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 CHAPTER XT. 
 
 THE AMUSEMENTS AND OCCUPATIONS OF THE 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 Children in those days employed their lei- 
 sure in a very different way from that to which 
 the young people of the present time are ac- 
 customed. Picnics, parties, and the numberless 
 devices for entertainment that are common in 
 our day were never thought of. 
 
 Sometimes a little girl was told if she would 
 be very good and do her stent (stint) she should 
 go to her grandmother's grave on a pleasant 
 afternoon, and sometimes as a reward of merit 
 she was told she might go to the "good doc- 
 tor" and have a tooth pulled. Dentists were 
 quite unknown in those days, and the instru- 
 ments for extracting teeth were constructed 
 somewhat like a ploughshare, but the good 
 doctor was so kindly in his ways that the little 
 
THE CHILDREN. 128 
 
 children never feared to go to him, and the 
 penny which he always had ready was a panacea 
 for the pain of the tooth-pulling, or the bitter 
 draught which he administered from his saddle- 
 bags. 
 
 Apothecaries and pharmacies were not known 
 in Brampton, and all the drugs were carried by 
 the " good doctor " in the box of his little gig, 
 and in his well-worn saddle-bags. 
 
 Opodeldoc, elixir-pro., salts and senna, pare- 
 goric, castor-oil, and other like precious nos- 
 trums were the medicines dealt out in those 
 days, and the children were apt to feel that 
 they would as soon die as swallow the nauseous 
 doses. 
 
 The " good doctor " had a little white curly 
 dog which he used to promise to every sick 
 boy in Brampton if he would take his medicine 
 like a man, and if the boy remembered to claim 
 the promise after the opodeldoc had done its 
 work, he was reminded that the dog was a 
 dangerous plaything for a boy, and might bite 
 him; so the same little white curly dog an- 
 
124 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 swered for a bribe many a year, and every boy 
 in Brampton felt that he had a claim upon it, 
 and was just as well satisfied as if he owned it, 
 for they all felt sure that some day they would 
 come into full possession of the promised little 
 dog. 
 
 The occupations of the little girls varied with 
 the seasons. Spinning so many knots for the 
 older girls, and knitting so many times round 
 on coarse yarn stockings, was the ''stent" for 
 the smaller ones. 
 
 The little girls were seated on straight high- 
 backed chairs, with their feet dangling in front 
 of the great fireplace, where the iron dogs held 
 the blazing logs, and under the stern gaze of 
 the mother or grandmother, whose busy fingers 
 never flagged in the constant task of keeping 
 the boys' trousers patched and the girls' pina- 
 fores and pantalets in order ; — there they must 
 sit till the " stent " was finished. 
 
 If by chance a neighbor dropped in to talk 
 about the weather, or the cat woke from her 
 doze to play with the ball of yarn which the 
 
THE CHILDREN. 125 
 
 little girl had purposely let slip from her 
 calico bag to challenge pussy to a little frolic, 
 — anything, anything to break the dull monot- 
 ony of the long-drawn-out hours, when the 
 ticking of the old clock, and the crackling of 
 the logs, and the purring of the cat were the 
 only sounds she heard, — the little girl was 
 reminded that her knitting-work was very 
 "tendful," or that she was in "no danger of 
 melting her knitting-needles," or that she 
 would "never have to be buried under the 
 gallers " (gallows). 
 
 It was a queer saying among the old people 
 that "if folks killed themselves with hard 
 work they would have to be buried under the 
 gallers." It was very humiliating to a child, if 
 she lagged in her task, to hear some one call 
 out, ''You'll never be buried under the gallers." 
 
 While the girls were spinning and knitting, 
 the boys were piling wood in the adjoining 
 sheds, or shelling corn, and in summer pulling 
 weeds, picking stones, or gathering berries. The 
 rocky soil of Brampton was especially adapted 
 
126 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 to the growth of wild strawberries — cultivated 
 strawberries were unknown, and huckleberries 
 grew in every pasture where there was room 
 enough between the rocks for the bushes to 
 take root. 
 
 All the spending money the children had was 
 earned by picking the huckleberries in the long 
 hot summer days, in the dry unshaded pastures, 
 and selling them to the market-men, who took 
 them to Boston and shared with them the scanty 
 profits. How tired they were as they came 
 slowly wending their way home at set of sun, 
 with their pails filled with berries, their quart 
 measures dangling at their sides, their gowns 
 torn and their shoes dusty, their faces burned 
 and their hands scratched ! 
 
 All day long they had picked the berries, 
 bending their tired backs over the low bushes 
 between the rocks, and resting only to take a 
 scanty lunch under the shade of some lonely 
 tree or overhanging rock, where the blue, buzzing 
 flies and the hungry mosquitoes kept high car- 
 nival, and the little girls declared that the very 
 
THE CHILDREN. 127 
 
 same big flies came back every year to share 
 their lunch, to buzz about their ears, and to 
 bite their hands. 
 
 The winter gowns and shoes were bought 
 with the money that came from selling the 
 berries. 
 
 Occasionally an ancient maiden aunt made 
 a rag doll for some little girl, and Aunt Puah 
 used to say it wouldn't be wicked to worship 
 that ere doll, for twan't made " in the likeness 
 of anything in heaven above or the airth be- 
 neath." How the children in these days of 
 Paris dolls would laugh over those rag babies ! 
 They would afford a great deal of fun to the 
 little girls who have French dolls with golden 
 curls and winking eyes, and wardrobes fash- 
 ioned after Worth's wonderful garments, and 
 trunks, and carriages, and toilet articles, and 
 parasols, and jewelry. 
 
 Laugh as you will, little girls, these rag 
 babies, that were so fearfully and wonderfully 
 made, were just as dear to their mothers as 
 yours are to you, and they were much more 
 
128 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 easily brought up. They were stuffed with 
 cotton or the refuse wool from the carding and 
 spinning, and were very flat and flimsy. Their 
 cheeks were stained with cranberry juice and 
 their eyes made of little black beads ; they 
 had inked mouth and eyebrows ; their noses 
 were pinched together with a few well-directed 
 stitches, looking like a small wart on the flat 
 surface of their faces, and they had tow hair. 
 
 Their gowns were made of blue and white 
 calico, with pantalets to match. The clothes 
 were stitched through and through the soft 
 bodies, and never needed to be changed. The 
 sun-bonnets were sewed firmly on, so that when 
 they were swung up into the tree the bonnet 
 should not be left among the apple boughs. 
 
 They could be put easily to bed in their soap- 
 box beds, with hay pillows, without fear of 
 tumbling their calico frocks, and be taken 
 through a severe fit of sickness without fear of 
 soiling the frocks, and they could adjust their 
 supple bodies to the corn-stalk chairs far more 
 readily than the stiff-jointed dolls that came 
 
THE CHILDREN. 129 
 
 from Paris. They had an expression so grim 
 and melancholy that the children, if they had 
 not been full of that tenderness common to all 
 mothers, that partial pride which makes one's 
 own always beautiful, would have thought 
 them hobgoblins or " wild Injun " babies. 
 
 But it was not every child who could have 
 such dolls as these. Where there was no 
 maiden aunt or doting grandmother to fashion 
 these wonderful creatures, the little girl had to 
 content herself with a small blanket or an old 
 shawl pinned up into the similitude of a live 
 baby, and solace herself with its companionship. 
 The dolls had to sit circumspectly beside their 
 mothers until the "stent'' was done, and it was 
 only a little time the children could spend in 
 play, for they must take part in the household 
 affairs ; after the "stent" was done, the dinner 
 dishes must be wiped and piled up on the 
 dresser in the corner of the kitchen, and the 
 basket filled with chips ready to boil the tea- 
 kettle for supper. To be sure, it took a great 
 deal of " make-believe " to carry on the every- 
 
130 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 day life, because the dolls must do whatever 
 their mothers did; they must be tied into the 
 swing in the apple-tree, they must feed the calf 
 and the chickens, they must hunt eggs under 
 the mangers and in the hay-lofts and in every 
 corner where a retiring hen could possibly 
 think of leaving an egg. 
 
 Play-houses were built on flat rocks, with 
 little stones, and furnished with bits of broken 
 crockery. A pretty piece of bright-colored 
 china was a great "find," and was far more 
 prized than are the expensive toys that are 
 wasted upon children nowadays. 
 
 Such were the pastimes of the children of 
 Brampton long ago, -and they were as happy 
 perhaps with their homely playthings as are 
 the children of our tinies who have more spent 
 for toys every year than it cost to support a 
 family in that simple neighborhood. 
 
 The long winter evenings were diversified 
 for the lads and lassies by an occasional spell- 
 ing-match and singing-school. (Aunt Puah 
 called them " singin' lecturs.)" 
 
THE CHILDREN. 131 
 
 These evening entertainments were held 
 usually in the " deestrict " schoolhouse, and 
 they afforded the only opportunity for the young 
 people to be by themselves. In the small houses 
 of the village the families always gathered 
 around the kitchen fire after the work of the 
 day was done. The grandmother dozed over 
 her knitting in the corner, in front of the great 
 oven door, — the baking was done in large 
 brick ovens set in the wall near the fireplace, — 
 the little round candle-stand stood in front 
 of the fire, with a tallow dip on it, and this, 
 with the blazing brushwood cut from . the 
 apple-trees, gave all the light there was in the 
 little kitchen, which was adorned with winter 
 squashes and bunches of dry herbs, hung all 
 along the low ceiling. 
 
 The tired old father nodded over his almanac 
 or his weekly paper ; the mother bustled about 
 in and out of the pantry, busy about a thousand 
 and one things which always fall to the mother, 
 and that only her deft hand can do ; the chil- 
 dren frolicked with the cat or teased the dog 
 
132 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 on the floor behind the old settle in the corner, 
 and so there really was no place where a bash- 
 ful lad could whisper a tender word to the elder 
 daughter without being overheard by all the 
 family, and the spelling-bees and singing- 
 schools were a great blessing to the young 
 folks. All the courtships in Brampton were 
 begun and consummated in the winter evenings 
 coming from those innocent little gatherings, 
 where the simple lads and lassies had piped 
 together their rude, homely tunes, and exchanged 
 shy, friendly glances, and where perhaps the 
 bossies had not spelled their best, 
 
 *' Because, because, you see, I love you, 
 And did not want to go above you."" 
 
 In the lingerings by the wayside and the 
 tarryings on the doorstep in the light of the 
 cold winter moon, there were many tender 
 words spoken, and solemn vows exchanged, 
 and many a good-night kiss stolen before the 
 pretty girl, her cheeks painted by the frost, and 
 rosy with the touch of her rustic lover's lips, 
 went blushing into the kitchen to say "good- 
 
THE CHILDREN. 133 
 
 night," and to dream of her joy in her little 
 low chamber, where the same moon stole in 
 that had witnessed their plighted vows on the 
 doorstep. 
 
 *' I can't remember what they said, 
 
 'Twas nothing worth a song or story ; 
 Yet that rude path by which they sped 
 Seemed all transformed and in a glory. 
 
 The snow was crisp beneath their feet, 
 
 The moon was full, the fields were gleaming; 
 
 By hood and tippet sheltered sweet, 
 Her face with youth and health was beaming. 
 
 Perhaps 'twas boyish love, yet still, 
 
 O listless woman, weary lover ! 
 To feel once more that fresh, wild thrill 
 
 I'd give — but who can live youth over ? " ^ 
 
 Baby carriages would have been considered 
 a great extravagance in Brampton. 
 
 Raisin-boxes and soap-boxes were converted 
 into wagons for the babies and drawn by the 
 little six-year-old nurse to relieve the mothers 
 while the cheese-making and the butter-mak- 
 ing, the washing and ironing, the baking and 
 
 1 Stedman. 
 
134 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 brewing, the mending and making were all 
 done by her one pair of hands. 
 
 The one-year-old baby was tucked into the 
 small box-wagon, and the happy three-year-old 
 tagged on behind, while the little nurse, en- 
 trusted with the care, and laden with her lunch- 
 basket stored with bread and butter, and a 
 bottle of milk for the baby, gravely dragged 
 the little cart to some pleasant spot by the 
 roadside, or to some adjoining pasture, where 
 a friendly tree afforded shade and shelter. 
 
 Here they often spent hours, and some- 
 times the little nurse would fall asleep with 
 the babies, and when she woke, keen would 
 be the pangs of her Brampton conscience, 
 educated in the belief of total depravity and 
 awful responsibility, as she thought of what 
 migJit have happened if some old " shack " 
 (straggler) or roving " Injun " had stolen her 
 charge while she slept. 
 
 The children grew up from their earliest 
 years with an overpowering sense of the terrible 
 wickedness of their own hearts, and the dread- 
 
THE CHILDREN. 135 
 
 ful danger of departing in the least degree 
 from the " decrees " as they were taught in the 
 Sunday-school and from the pulpit. The 
 doctrine of ''personal election," the doctrine 
 of ''total depravity," the perseverance of the 
 Saints, and "the eternity of hell torments," 
 and the " duties of morality," ^ — these consti- 
 tuted the formula of belief in the church at 
 Brampton, in the early part of this century. 
 
 The children who were naturally sensitive 
 and conscientious were often driven into a 
 frenzy of alarm by the gloom and sternness and 
 hopelessness that through this teaching over- 
 
 i Mr. Howe's Century Sermon. 
 
 The following extract from the same sermon will illustrate 
 the severe way in which the minister felt called upon to 
 administer reproof to his flock : 
 
 *' Your habits are so firmly fixed, that no reformation is to 
 be expected during my ministry ; and, indeed, it would re- 
 quire more power in the Deity to effect it, than it did to create 
 the world. For when he created the world he had only to 
 say: ' Let there be light,' and there was light. 
 
 "He had no opposition. But, to bring you to a sense of 
 justice and equity, he must overcome your private, personal 
 attachment to your own svpposed worldly interest ; and that 
 would require more power than it did to create the world! 
 And, beside, my life is so far spent that, should you reform, 
 it is doubtful whether it would produce any very beneficial 
 effects on my labors. I mean to tell the whole truth, without 
 partiality or respect of persons." 
 
136 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 hung their lives. Death was invested with 
 every conceivable horror, and the tolling of 
 the funeral bell sent a thrill of dismay into the 
 hearts of the children, because they were taught 
 that God hated them and that they hated God, 
 and if they died in an '' unregenerate state '* 
 they would surely go to hell. 
 
 A thunderstorm struck terror to every child's 
 heart, and often the family was called togethei^ 
 and prayers were offered to avert the terrible 
 stroke which perhaps threatened them on ac- 
 count of some sin they might have committed. 
 The little children quaked with fear, and 
 huddled together in the middle of the room, 
 calling to mind every smallest misdeed, and 
 believing that the thunder and lightning were 
 sent as a punishment, and that the next flash of 
 lightning might consign them to that dismal 
 place of which they constantly heard. 
 
 They were not taught the loving messages 
 of Him who said, '•'- Let the little ones come 
 unto Me." They were never taught that the 
 tender, loving, forgiving Christ loved them. 
 
THE CHILDREN. 137 
 
 ^nd that they should try to serve Him in 
 pureness of living and truth, and follow the 
 blessed steps of His most holy life, and that 
 He was far more ready to forgive when they 
 did wrong, and were sorry for it, than their 
 fathers or mothers were. They were constantly 
 taught, if they committed one sin, however small, 
 they were guilty of breaking God's law, and 
 were just as wicked as if they had broken all 
 the laws of the decalogue ; and that God would 
 never look upon them with the least degree of 
 compassion until they were converted and 
 renewed. At the same time they were taught 
 that God chose some from the beginning to be 
 lost, and some to be saved. 
 
 What conversion and regeneration meant 
 was as great a mystery to a child as were the 
 doctrines themselves to their elders, no two of 
 whom ever fully agreed as to the exact meaning 
 of these terms, and not one in a hundred of 
 those who became members of the church, 
 whether old or young, had the least under- 
 standing of the meaning and significance of 
 
138 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 the doctrines they were compelled to say they 
 believed — " in the presence of God and these 
 witnesses." 
 
 The following story gives an idea of the rigid 
 test that was applied to candidates for church- 
 membership, whether they were as wise as 
 doctors of divinity, or as blameless of doctrines 
 as little children. 
 
 One poor, honest old woman, who was igno- 
 rant of words and phrases and doctrines, but 
 who had a sweet, loving heart, and wished to 
 obey the command of her Saviour, whom she 
 dearly loved, " Do this in remembrance of 
 Me," was once brought before the deacons and 
 elders to be examined as to her fitness for 
 membership in the church. She was asked if 
 she believed in "predestination," "perseverance 
 of the Saints," "justification by faith," and 
 " the eternity of punishment." 
 
 To all of these questions the simple, honest 
 old woman answered, " I don't know, I don't 
 know. I only know I love Kim^ 
 
 At length, after spending much time in the 
 
THE CHILDREN. 139 
 
 examination, the deacons decided that she did 
 not know enough of the doctrines to be admitted 
 to the church. With tears streaming down her 
 withered cheeks, she rose to leave ; with tot- 
 tering steps she reached the door, and, with her 
 heart bursting with love to her compassionate 
 Lord and her voice choking with emotion, she 
 turned to the deacons and said, " I cannot speak 
 for Him, but I can die for Him." 
 
 A young girl of exceptional intelligence who 
 had enjoyed unusual advantages, and who could 
 not take tradition or the faith of others, how- 
 ever much revered, came before the committee 
 of the church for examination, with as happy 
 a heart as Christ, youth, and gladness could 
 give her. She had read the promises of her 
 Lord for herself^ and she took Him at His word. 
 Her heart was aglow with Christ's love, and 
 she rejoiced in all the fair and beautiful things 
 in the world, as well as in His spiritual mercies. 
 Her trust and hope could not be saddened into 
 fear and doubt by any distrust or convention- 
 ality of men, and when the examining com- 
 
140 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 mittee asked this young, bright, happy girl just 
 the same question that they would have asked 
 an old man who was weary of life, " Are you 
 willing to give up all the pleasures of the 
 world?" she replied with cheerful simplicity 
 and honesty, — ''I enjoy life very much ; it is 
 full of pleasure now that I know Christ's for- 
 giving love, but if you will change the form 
 of your question, I can answer it, perhaps, to 
 your satisfaction. If any pleasure ever comes 
 between my duty to Christ, and my soul, I 
 think He will help me to renounce it for 
 Him." 
 
 When asked if she understood the " decrees," 
 her answer was, — '' In all matters of my re- 
 ligious faith the settlement must lie between 
 my own soul and God." 
 
 The old men shook their heads, and their 
 souls were troubled. That loving our blessed 
 Lord meant living more pure and holy lives, 
 being more kind and just and true, unselfish 
 and forgiving, — living more as He lived when 
 He walked our earth, — this was never taught. 
 
THE CHILDREN. 141 
 
 It was always " the wrath of God on the 
 children of disobedience." 
 
 Of course, parental affection and the natural 
 optimism of human nature tempered somewhat 
 these extreme views, but the terrors of the 
 law, expressed in those fearful words " weeping 
 and wailing and gnashing of teeth, fire and 
 brimstone, and endless torment," were con- 
 stantly preached ; and every hour of the day 
 and every act of life felt their influence. The 
 love of God was made subordinate to His 
 justice, and the hopes and promises of the 
 Gospel were rarely dwelt upon. 
 
 On the part of the parents there was con- 
 stant repression, and the love of the children 
 for their fathers and mothers was mingled with 
 fear and awe, so that the pleasant confidences 
 which should exist between parents and chil- 
 dren, and the expressions of affection which 
 sweeten life, were very rare. 
 
 " Children should be seen and not heard," 
 was the common family motto. 
 
 Any word of approval or commendation was 
 
142 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 regarded as tending to foster vanity, and the 
 highest praise ever bestowed upon a young 
 person was expressed by an old man whose 
 son had accomplished some heroic act. When 
 he was asked if he did not feel proud of his 
 son, he replied, — "I can't say that I don't feel 
 some satisfaction^ but I hope I don't indulge 
 in any feeling of pride^ for that, I should 
 consider, would be very sinful. " 
 
VILLAGE WAYS. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 VILLAGE WAYS. 
 
 The great event of the springtime in the 
 village was the soap-making, which took days 
 of preparation and much hard work. First, the 
 leach must be set outside the kitchen door, and 
 the water poured over the ashes, until the lye 
 was strong enough to bear up an egg; the 
 almanac was studied, then the course of the 
 moon, and the tide, must be watched, because 
 the soap would never come unless the moon 
 were in the right quarter, and it was flood-tide. 
 At the auspicious moment the large iron kettle 
 which was only used on such important occa- 
 sions was hung upon the crane, and great was 
 the interest that gathered around the fireplace, 
 for the family supply of soap for a year de- 
 pended upon the result of that boiling kettle. 
 
144 BHAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 Next came the house-cleaning, and the shak- 
 ing of the best spare-room carpet, — in the very 
 few houses where there were carpets, — and the 
 removing out of sight everything from the 
 fireplaces, so that, whatever might be the tem- 
 perature, nothing could induce a thorough New 
 England housekeeper to remove from the " best- 
 room" fireplace the tops of asparagus with 
 which it was filled early in May, not to be dis- 
 placed in any event until November. These 
 stirring events were the topics of conversation 
 through all the springtime. " Mrs. Smith, did 
 you have a good day to shake your carpet ? " 
 " There wasn't nigh as much dust in mine as 
 there was last year, an' I told husban' I had a 
 consate it was because we had had so much rain 
 this spring." 
 
 There was a little time in midsummer when 
 the social life of the village was at its height, 
 and the best families (for there were best fami- 
 lies in Brampton) exchanged afternoon teas. 
 The ladies in the best families each had one black 
 silk gown ; indeed, no lady could be admitted 
 
VILLAGE WAYS. 145 
 
 into the first circle without a black silk gown. 
 True, it might have been turned inside out and 
 upside down several times, but to be truly 
 respected in Brampton a black silk gown was 
 absolutely necessary. Aunt Puah's nephew 
 had presented her with a black silk umbrella ; 
 this was an uncommon badge of respectability, 
 and Aunt Puah never took it out when there 
 was a cloud to be seen, because, she said, " I 
 wouldn't 'ave that 'ere umbrella wet fer nothin' ; 
 I 'ave had it a number o' year, an' I alwa's mean 
 to keep it, so that, in case I should be took 
 away, it'd be jest as good fer 'Bijah's wife as it 
 was when he give it to me." 
 
 The ladies took a nap after dinner, and calcu- 
 lated to be ready to start by half-past one at 
 the latest. With a small muslin shawl over 
 their shoulders and a large green calash cover- 
 ing their company cap — for a cap was essential 
 to propriety then, no matter how abundant the 
 hair — they set forth with the company knitting- 
 work. Aunt Puah remarked on one of these 
 occasions, "Lor sakes alive, I never expect to 
 
146 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 finish this 'ere stockin' ; I allers mean to keep 
 it for company knittin'." 
 
 The hostess always stood in the front door to 
 welcome her guests. Aunt Puah said she had 
 " heerd 'twas the fashion in some places to have 
 a bell to ring at the door, but for her part she 
 shouldn't wait for no bell to ring ; when she see 
 a neighbor comin', she should go to the door to 
 meet 'em." 
 
 The hostess, after greeting her guests, sat a 
 few minutes with them in the best front room, 
 and then asked to be excused. The remaining 
 time was spent in baking the biscuits, boiling 
 the tea-kettle, and laying the table, for there 
 were only a few families in all Brampton where 
 " hired help " was kept. With a serious air, tea 
 was announced at five o'clock. A large glass 
 of toddy was passed as soon as they were all 
 seated, and the tongues kept time with the 
 knitting-needles until the hostess went to each 
 lady and said, " Our tea is now on the table ; 
 shall I take your work ? " The work-bags were 
 then gathered and deposited on the best-room 
 
VILLAGE WAYS. 147 
 
 table, and the ladies walked out into the clean, 
 sanded kitchen, where the tea-table was spread 
 opposite the open door that led into the little 
 garden. If it was not haying time, the hus- 
 bands would drop in just long enough to take a 
 cup of tea. Notes were then compared as to 
 who had the earliest crop of peas and who could 
 boast the highest corn. The doctor's wife re- 
 marked that Mrs. Howe had " a beautiful mess 
 of safren and sage, and she should know where 
 to send the doctor in case he wanted any." He 
 made great use of these herbs in bilious diseases. 
 
 The ladies discussed the jelly-making; this 
 was a subject of great interest, and the question 
 went the rounds — "Did you have good luck 
 with your jelly ? " 
 
 "Did it jell well?" 
 
 "Mine was a leetle grain darker color than 
 'twas last year, an' I'm jealous 'twas 'cause I 
 picked the currants a day later; it makes all 
 the difference in the world about the day o' the 
 month an' the time in the day that you pick the 
 currants." 
 
148 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 The eveiy-day living of the people was very 
 simple, consisting mostly of the products of 
 their small farms ; but on these occasions the 
 table literally groaned under the weight of the 
 cakes and pies, preserves and tarts and jellies. 
 Everything must be tasted, and if Mis' Jones 
 declined. Mis' Smith felt quite hurt, for " that 
 cake was made from a new resate she had jest 
 got from a cousin of hers in Boston. It was 
 said to have been brought over from England, 
 and it was one the nobility used." 
 
 Mis' Jones said she would taste a little grain 
 of it just to try it, for she had a new " resate " 
 herself she would like to send to Mis' Smith. 
 Mis' Hunt pronounced the currant jam the nicest 
 she had ever tasted, and the " widder " Brown 
 said the " jell " was a beautiful color. 
 
 Mis' Grain, upon being urged to take a third 
 cup of tea, declared she couldn't decline, for it 
 was " the completest-flavored Old Hyson she had 
 tasted for a long time, and she wondered where 
 Mis' Howe bought it." 
 
 Mis' Howe said she was glad if the ladies 
 
VILLAGE WAYS. 149 
 
 enjoyed her tea, for she had the old white hoss 
 tackled up into the shay, and drove over to 
 Berrytown a-purpose to get half a pound of that 
 tea, for she had a consate that the flavor was 
 better than any she could get in Brampton, and 
 she didn't have to pay a cent more for 't ; she 
 hoped the ladies would excuse her biscuits, for 
 she was a good deal put to't about her yeast this 
 week, and they didn't rise as well as common. 
 
 Tea being over, the husbands departed to 
 look after their cows, and the wives rolled up 
 the company knitting-work with the little quill 
 sheath, and each one declared she'd had " a very 
 han'some supper, and a complete visit; she 
 should be obleeged to hurry home to set the 
 milk for her cheese, and to put the churn in 
 soak for churning early to-morrow morning." 
 
 Mis' Low remarked, upon leaving, that she'd 
 been trying all summer to invite her neighbors 
 in to tea, ''but one thing after another had 
 hendered ; she did hope she should be able to 
 invite 'em before the fall work came on, and 
 have it off her mind." 
 
150 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 A funeral was an event of importance in the 
 village. The meeting-house bell always an- 
 nounced the departure of a soul by a solemn 
 tolling. The sex was given by the striking of 
 the bell, once three for a child, twice three for a 
 woman, and three times three for a man ; and 
 then the age was pealed out dolorously, and 
 every man, woman, and child stopped, whatever 
 the stress of work, and counted slowly and 
 solemnly the age of the departed neighbor, 
 and each one began to plan how the mourning 
 family could be best helped through the waiting 
 days until the slow procession should follow 
 the time-worn hearse to the little burying-place 
 under the shadow of the meeting-house, where 
 for many Sundays the neighbors would gather 
 at the nooning to talk of the kindly deeds and 
 the pleasant ways of the one who had finished 
 his labors and was resting beneath the fresh 
 sod which friendly hands had placed over his 
 earthly remains. 
 
 The first thing to be done was to gather all 
 the black *' bunnits " and shawls in the neigh- 
 
I VILLAGE WAYS. 151 
 
 borhood and take them to the house of mourn- 
 ing for the use of the family. The mourners 
 were cautioned to be very careful not to let 
 their tears fall upon the crape veils, because 
 briny tears would leave a spot upon crape which 
 could not be easily removed, and if the widow 
 could just think to wipe off the tears before 
 they dropped upon the crape she should be per- 
 fectly welcome to wear the "bunnit" and veil 
 to the funeral and the first Sunday after, though 
 it would be a deprivation not to see how the 
 mourners appeared when the note was read in 
 meetin' asking for the prayers of the congrega- 
 tion, yet she was willing to accommodate. 
 
 There were those in every village who could 
 never hear of a death without an irresistible 
 desire to attend the funeral. Aunt Puah said 
 " sister Betsy always wanted to see if the corpse 
 looked natural, even though she had never seen 
 the individual in life," and it was a matter of 
 great interest to see how the mourners would 
 appear. 
 
 " Betsy come home one day from a funeral 
 
152 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 over on Bear Hill, and she said the sexton 
 that managed that 'ere funeral was the beateree. 
 They had got a young woman over there from 
 a j'inin' town to sing. There was an old pianer 
 in the room, and as soon as the singer entered 
 where the mourners were seated, the sexton 
 called out in a loud tone : ' Do you want that 
 'ere pianer opened? 'Cause, if you do, I have 
 got to take off all them ere jigermaries that is 
 on top on't, and put 'um on the floor, for the 
 corpse is on the only table there is.' 
 
 '' The singer was a very pooty appearin' 
 young woman, an' she said she would try to 
 pitch the tune without the pianer. She done 
 very well, and all them that could sing j'ined in. 
 The mourners bore up remarkable, considerin' 
 all they had to go through with. When the 
 services was over, the sexton called out: 'The 
 funeral cortage will now proceed to the place of 
 burial. The friends can take leave of the corpse 
 as they pass out, and all them that want to can 
 f oiler the hearse to the yard.' One old man 
 said, as he passed the remains : ' I declare, she 
 
VILLAGE WAYS. 163 
 
 looks more nateral than she did when she was 
 alive.'" 
 
 In these days, when kerosene takes so large a 
 place in the illumination of the world, there is 
 danger that the tallow dips of our grandmothers 
 will be forgotten. Candle-making was the great 
 housekeeping event of the fall of the year, as 
 soap-making was in the spring. The light and 
 cheer of the long winter evenings in every 
 home in Brampton depended upon the candles 
 which the frugal housewives made from the 
 tallow of their own animals, and stored away in 
 boxes for the use of the family through the 
 year. Oh, what a day it was for the children 
 when the great brass kettle was brought out 
 and hung upon the crane in the huge fireplace, 
 where the immense logs werq^ crackling and the 
 blaze ascending through a chimney as large as 
 some modern rooms. 
 
 The kettle was first partly filled with water, 
 and when this was heated the cakes of tallow 
 were broken up and thrown in to melt and float 
 upon the top. It was an undecided question in 
 
154 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 Brampton, and one that greatly agitated the 
 minds of the good housewives, whether beeswax 
 or bayberry tallow would be added to give hard- 
 ness and consistency to the candles. Mrs. 
 Gibbs said that in Berrytown they preferred 
 bayberry, but Mis' Jones was of the opinion that 
 beeswax would give the candles a better color 
 and make them spend better and prevent their 
 running. I think the question Avas never settled 
 to the entire satisfaction of Mis' Jones and Mis' 
 Howe. 
 
 Before the dawn of day the whole family 
 were astir. The great fire was lighted, the 
 frugal breakfast eaten, and the children all 
 on the qui vive. The wicks had been cut the 
 evening before, dipped in saltpetre and twisted 
 over wooden rods which were kept from year to 
 year tied up in bunches and laid up above the 
 great beams in the kitchen for use. These rods 
 were hung on two poles supported by chairs, 
 and were few or many in number according to 
 the supply of candles to be made. Each rod 
 held eight or ten wicks three or four inches apart. 
 
VILLAGE WAYS. 155 
 
 The kettle was taken from the crane and set 
 down n^ar the poles. Now all was ready. Mis' 
 Jones, with her blue-checked apron covering her 
 scant linsey-woolsey gown, took her seat on a 
 flag-bottomed high-backed chair in the middle of 
 the rods, and commenced operations with an ex- 
 pression of supreme satisfaction. Beginning 
 with the rod at her right hand, she dipped it 
 deftly into the kettle, watching carefully to see 
 that every wick hung straight and clear of 
 every other, and thus went down the line. By 
 the time the last rod was reached, the first one 
 was cool and ready for another immersion. 
 
 This process was repeated until the slow- 
 growing candles had attained the proper size, 
 the kettle meanwhile being replenished with 
 boiling water and freshly melted tallow. There 
 were always several rods toward the end of the 
 poles filled with tiny candles to be given to the 
 children as rewards of merit. When they were 
 especially good they had a little candle to light 
 the way to their small trundle-beds, and as long 
 as it lasted they could tell stories of ghosts and 
 
156 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 witches, or repeat the tales of Bluebeard and 
 Red Riding Hood, without fear. 
 
 Aunt Puah used to say that the children raly 
 lotted on the little candles in the fall of the 
 year, and you could hire 'em to do a'most any- 
 thing if you promised 'em one. Mis' Smith 
 always knew when Mis' Jones was dippin' and 
 would run in several times in the course of the 
 day to see how she was gettin' on. 
 
 "Do stop, Mis' Jones, long enough to take 
 a pinch of snuff; 'twill rest you and do you 
 good." 
 
 Mis' Jones said she begrutched every minute 
 she stopped, the taller cooled so fast, but she 
 felt well paid for her work, the candles seemed 
 to be comin' out so complete. 
 
 It took a whole day to finish the candles, 
 and then they were left undisturbed until the 
 next morning, when they were taken from 
 the rods, packed away, hard and white, ready 
 for use. 
 
 Who that has witnessed a corn-husking in the 
 full moon of an October night can ever forget 
 
VILLAGE WAYS. 157 
 
 the merry-making among the young people as 
 they gathered around the mountains of un- 
 husked corn, on the floor of a spacious New 
 England barn, to unwrap the treasure from its 
 soft envelope, and place it in piles ready for the 
 winter's use ? The elderly people told the story 
 of their past loves, while they husked the 
 golden grain, and the younger people talked of 
 their future plans and prospective loves, and 
 played " hide-and-seek " around the sweet-smell- 
 ing hay-mows, and, as the evening drew to a 
 close, made the rafters echo with the music 
 of a corn-stalk violin to the merry tunes of 
 " Money Musk," " Fisher's Hornpipe," and 
 " We won't go home till mornin'." Then 
 were served the " foaming flip " and the sweet 
 cider, with piles of doughnuts and sheets of 
 gingerbread, and pumpkin pies ; shy, pleasant 
 words were whispered among the lads and 
 lassies, and friendly good-nights among their 
 elders, and the moon shone into the low cham- 
 ber windows of the simple homes of Brampton, 
 and found every man and woman, at nine 
 
158 BRAMPTON SKETCHES. 
 
 o'clock, in the peaceful sleep of the tired and 
 honest laborer. 
 
 Through Brampton's woods the west wind sighs, 
 
 The fields are red with clover; 
 The sweet-fern grows, the blackberry blows, 
 
 The rocky pastures over. 
 Its hill still looks to mount and sea; 
 
 Its springs still feed the river; 
 But the early days and the simple ways 
 
 Alike have fled forever. 
 

 
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