SCHOOL DAYS

SCHOOL DAYSNearby was a backwoods school which was called the White Birch, where about eighty scholars met in winter to fit themselves for future eminence. Here it was that life's troubles began with me. The mode of punishment in those days for a boy was to draw him over the master's knee and spank him, and I am quite sure I got more floggings than all the other seventy-nine scholars together. Tom Wheelock often spanked me so furiously that the rising dust often made the other scholars think he was setting me on fire.From the first at school I had been a mental genius. When eight years old I could calculate in my head problems intended for large scholars to work out with slate and pencil. The knottiest problems in Colburn's old mental arithmetic were as simple for me as three times ten, and this I could do without ever looking at the rules. But, oh, my spelling, reading and writing were shockingly deficient, and my grammar was laughable. Once the master compelled me to write a composition, and when he read it he laughed and said, "The ideas are good, Merrick, but it needs a Philadelphia lawyer to connect them."I would as soon fight as eat and was ready to hammer any boy of my size who had broken up a bird's nest, and was ready to protect the girls to the limit of my strength and ability. Whether I was right or wrong, I can now see that I was unconsciously following the dictatesof conscience. When fourteen years old I took a serious dislike to punishment of any kind, and the result was that I left school for good.i112WABBAQUASSETT GIRLS. NEWELL HILL IN THE DISTANCE.COUNTRY BOYS IN TOWNMy boyhood days were spent in what might be termed, the upper strata of the last stages of the tallow candle age. Mother dipped candles each fall to light us through the year. Whale oil was also used, but a little later coal oil from Pennsylvania came into vogue.In order to obtain whale oil, vessels for that purpose were sent out from New Bedford, New London, New York and other harbors along the northern Atlantic Coast. Accordingly, four of us youngsters, my brother Collins, Lucius Aborn, Lyman Newell and myself, formed a scheme to go catching whales and decided to visit New York and look the matter up and, if possible, learn why our parents so seriously objected to having us become sailors.Accordingly, we went to Hartford and took the night steamer, on the Connecticut River, for New York. While waiting for the boat in Hartford we all went out to get shaved and I remember it, for it was my first shave.The barber must have been a funny fellow, of the Abe Lincoln type, who looked serious when he said and did funny things. He was not sparing of his lather, for my ears held quite a lot, but I bore it bravely until he grabbed me right by the nose to begin, which made me burst out laughing and let the lather run into my mouth. When I sobered down he would seize me by the nose and begin again, which would make my friends and the other barbers all laugh. I laughed a little myself, buthe never smiled—just watched for his chance to seize me. When he got through, without a smile, he said he never charged boys anything for the first shave.On the steamer, of which the cabins seemed to me as dazzling, beautiful and wonderful as the constellation of Orion does now, the cabin porter got our cow-hide boots, while we were asleep, and shined them and then demanded ten cents for each boot, but we compromised on ten cents for the whole lot, and threatened to throw him overboard at that.When we landed at Peck Slip, New York, we at once inquired for the office where sailors were enlisted for three-year voyages catching whales.The agent was a man probably seventy years old and began inquiring our names and where we were from, and then he said he knew about Square Pond, as he once drove stage right along its shore on the old route from Hartford to Boston. Then he said: "Sit down, boys," and he talked to us to this effect:"Now, boys, you do not want to enlist for a three years' voyage. If you have got the fishing fever I can get you all a chance on a smack for three months, off the coast of Newfoundland, catching codfish. Then if you are not sick of the job you can go whaling." We listened to him kindly and finally gave up, not only the whaling, but the fishing altogether.We then began canvassing the book stores for a book which Lyman had heard about, which boys ought not to read, and that was why he wanted it. The title was "Fanny Hill," and when we inquired at the book stores we were turned down, until we struck a Yankee who sold second-hand books, who inquired where we were from, and when our boat would leave New York, and then said he hardly dare sell it to us for fear he would be arrested.i116BEAUTIFUL WOMEN, WORTHY MEN, CHARMING OLD WABBAQUASSETT.CENTRAL LOWER LADY FIGURE, JULIA NEWELL WARNER, MY LIFE-LONG ESTEEMED FRIEND.The price he said was $1.00, and he would run the risk, if we would come around just before the boat started and then promise, all of us, not to open the package until the boat had left the dock. To this we readily agreed and then went on taking in the town, thinking more about the book than we did about the giants, pygmies, monkeys and elephants which we found at Barnum's Museum.We were now hungry again, so we took another oyster stew and then started up the Bowery, when we heard music and were invited in where a wheel table was turning. One could put down ten cents and might win $100.00. We were going shares in everything, so decided to risk ten cents, and the other boys allowed me to try. "Forty dollars," cried the man, and then discovered his mistake, that it was only forty cents, and then began telling of folks from the country winning money, and this was one of the stories which did not take:"A large man," he said, "came to New York from the mountains of Pennsylvania and offered to bet $50.00 that he could carry a feather-bed tick full of buckshot across Broadway on his head. Well, boys, we loaded the tick, which took nearly all the shot in the city, and he started. He won the bet, I saw him do it, but you see that stone pavement on Broadway, do you? Well, boys, when he crossed the street the load was so heavy that he mired into that stone pavement clear up to his knees, but he won the $50.00."Then we told him that we were liars ourselves, and trudged on, actually having beat the gamblers out of thirty cents.After another oyster stew dinner we strolled into the Bowery Theatre, where minstrels were playing, which amused us, as it was the first we had ever seen, and supposed they were genuine darkies. They sat in a half circle and after singing and playing, the two end men would ask questions, and one dialogue ran this way:"Rastus, I heard you was out last night.""Yes, Sah, I was out prominading on Broadway.""Did you have your best girl along?""Zartenly.""Did you take her home?""Zartenly.""Did she invite you in?""Not zackly. We stood inside the gate.""Did she exhibit great affection?""Great what?""Great affection.""I suppose so.""What did she and you do?""Dat am a pointed question, sah.""Well, but you said she showed great affection.""Showed what?""Great affection, Rastus. Did she love you?""Yes, sah, she squozed my hand and then I squoze her with my arm.""Squoze, Rastus? Why, there is no such word as squoze.""Yes, there is, for she said she had never been squoze by a regular man before.""Where do you get that word?""Noah Webster, sah. Shall I instruct you?""Certainly.""Is not rise, rose, risen, proper?""Certainly.""Then why not squize, squoze, squizzen?"Then they all sang again.One incident that I yet remember was that all had on light-colored vests, and while crossing Broadway, dodging here and there among the omnibusses, trucks, and other vehicles, such as we had never seen before, I slipped on the wet stone pavement and fell flat on my stomach, but it soon dried off and I was at the front again, and at the appointed time we appeared at the book store and gave the man his dollar, who again cautioned us not to let the police see it.It was papered up nicely and I can now see how nervously Newell jammed it into his inside pocket, which was not quite large enough, and then we boarded the steamer, all the while looking out of the corners of our eyes that no one suspicioned us.After the steamer had cleared the dock and Lute Aborn said we were on the high seas, we slipped around behind the wheel pit, for it was a side-wheeled steamer, and as Newell was nervously untying the string, he said: "Now we will all look at the pictures first and then you, Lute, who is the best reader, will read it aloud"—when, behold, it was nothing but a New Testament worth ten cents.This little Fanny Hill experience was really a blessing in disguise to us boys, but we did not think so at the time, and if we could have gotten hold of that dealer we would have taught him that there was yet a God in Israel.AS A YANKEE TIN PEDDLERAt the Methodist Church just south of Wabbaquassett there were revivals each winter and with other I experienced religion, but mine, even though serious, sort of struck in and did not break out again for several years.At the age of nineteen I had become sort of terror to my enemies, for I was quick, strong and fearless. One night I had my usual warning dream, of trouble ahead, and the next day I nearly killed a man as fearless as myself. The following day when I caught my father weeping I resolved ever after to avoid all personal encounters, which determination for self-control has carried me over many a rickety bridge in safety, and my warning dreams have never troubled me since.Farming soon became too tame for me, and while nature's adornments which made up and surrounded our quiet home, often charmed my soul into serious dreamlike fancies, yet, somehow I enjoyed singing funny songs and telling stories, together with their proper amendments and legitimate construction—in fact, like my mother, I could tell an old story which every one had heard forty times in such a way as to cause laughter. Therefore, as farm life seemed to be an insufficient incubator for hatching out fresh productions, I mysteriously evolved into the seemingly exalted position of a Yankee Tin Peddler.i122ALBUM OF SUNNY DAYS.CENTRAL LOWER LIKENESS IS OF MY COUSIN O. M. RICHARDSON, NOW RETIRED MANUFACTURER OF ROCKVILLE, CONN. THREE GIRLS IN CENTRAL SCENE, LINA, ELVA AND JOSEPHINE NEWELL, DAUGHTERS OF MY SISTER JANETTE AT HER OLD WABBAQUASSETT HOME. 1890.There were at that time at least ten firms in New England and York State who manufactured tinware, for which they loaned carts and gave credit to lively chaps who had teams. The peddler would go on the road and trade the tinware for barter, old iron, copper, brass, lead, zinc and all kinds of paper stock, besides cow hides and sheep pelts or anything of which he knew the value, and ship it in to pay his account. It was a lucrative business for a clever boy, often clearing $100.00 per week besides his expenses. Also it gave him a chance to study human nature, as a good peddler must be able to read his customer before he says the wrong thing, for a frolicsome Irish woman appreciates a tone and language with perhaps a friendly slap on the shoulder, which would frighten an elderly, sedate, bloodless maiden into spasms.Soon my two brothers and myself with several neighboring young men were into the business, and in the Spring of 1861 Alonzo Shepherd and myself ventured a trip to Long Island by the way of New York City. On this trip we acquired both wealth and fame. The ridiculous instances of our travels often come up before me now. We were continually playing tricks on each other which always ended in laughter. On this trip we became horse traders, which proved to be more lucrative than peddling.In 1863 I shipped my team to Batavia, New York, and in August sent for my brother Gordon to come to Dunkirk, where I had another team, and we peddled through Pennsylvania, Ohio and Michigan, returning to Connecticut in the Fall, after which I returned to Elba, N. Y., where, December 10th, I married Mary Jane Hoyt, a beautiful, intelligent girl of twenty years.The following year, 1864, with several other teams each, we came West again and returned to Albany for the winter. On my return I followed the shore road ofLake Ontario around to Watertown, N. Y., while Gordon returned through Pennsylvania, our object being to buy horses of the mountain farmers.i126MARY JANE HOYT, ELBA. N. Y., 1863. WILDER WOODS.THIS PICTURE WAS TAKEN THE SUMMER BEFORE WE WERE MARRIED.THE THOMPSON FAMILY.From Watertown, I worked East, where I fell in with a family by the name of Thompson, who owned a large stock-raising farm in the foot hills of Mount Seward, not far from North Elba, the Adirondack home of John Brown.My experience with the Thompsons left a vivid impression on my memory which never grows dim.As I remember them Mr. Thompson was short, heavy set, blue eyed, fair complexion, with a physiognomy indicating that he seldom suffered defeat. He was usually thoughtful and serious, but when telling stories or relating experience he was full of mirth.Mary, his wife, was an interesting woman. Her stout figure, dark eyes and hair with fair skin made her look striking, especially in laughing, when her eyes twinkled and gave expression of mirth. All the animals on the farm were seemingly her special pets, but their little dog Joe came in for the lion's share. Really the little white, curly fellow with black eyes and nose, when standing erect with head and tail up, did look as though he was monarch of all he surveyed. Everybody loved him except the cats. Much of Mrs. Thompson's time was given over to church work, for which she must have been well fitted, as her Christian character was discernible at every move and turn.Vida, their daughter of sixteen summers, was fair, with large dark eyes, auburn hair and prominent chin.Her quick glance and mirthful smile betokened self-esteem and decisive character, while glee and dare innocently portrayed pent emotion and artful design.During the evening I turned the conversation to the story of John Brown, and was glad to learn that Mr. Thompson had been a near friend of Brown and was with him on the Kennedy farm only a few days before the raid on Harper's Ferry.At Mrs. Thompson's suggestion we planned that we four take a horseback ride after church services on the morrow, up to the Brown farm and see John's grave and the big rock nearby from which, in former days, he had done much preaching to the mountaineers.Our horses were good lopers, taking us up and downhill through the woods to the farm, at which we arrived very quickly, but found none of the family at home. We finally gained entrance to the little farm house and sat in John's chair by his cheap desk. Afterwards we climbed on the big rock now near his grave which seems to stand as a lone sentinel, in the rocky wilds, silently calling the coming generations to the resting place of the ashes of him who followed the dictates of conscience, regardless of immediate results.After enjoying hot cream biscuit with wild honey and crabapple jelly, with a neighbor of the Browns, we started down the mountain, and through the evening we sat before the crackling hickory flames in the great fireplace while Mr. Thompson gave his experience with the Browns, which were substantially as follows:i131JOHN BROWN, 1850.GOD CALLS EVERY MAN AND WOMAN TO DUTY AND REQUIRES A RESPONSE ACCORDING TO THEIR INDIVIDUAL ABILITY.JOHN BROWN.One evening in the summer of 1850, John Brown, whom I had known in Springfield, Mass., as a successful wool merchant, surprised us by calling, and relating his troubles."I," he said, "through misfortune or mismanagement, have lost the fortune which I amassed in 25 years. In trying to retrieve, I shipped my stock to Europe, but after staying there about four months I sold it so low that my loss, including the expense of the trip, left me stranded. My ardor for the slave has not in the least abated, and through the assistance of Gerritt Smith I have taken up land and am building a home over in North Elba, I am a sort of instructor to the colored folks of Smith's Wild Wood Colony."I have several colored men working for me in clearing up and planting, and they work well. I brought along some blooded cattle, pigs and hens, and finding many hard maples on the place, which produce sap for sirup, we feel quite independent. Two of our heifers have come in and we have plenty of milk, so I tell my wife if we have not crossed the Jordan into the land of milk and honey, we have crossed the Connecticut into the land of milk and maple molasses. Now I must be going in order to reach home before dark.""Stay, Mr. Brown," I said, "why, we have not visited at all yet.""I know, Mr. Thompson, but I came just to letyou know where we are, and if you will come to see us we will treat you to fried chicken, boiled potatoes, hot corn bread and fresh butter. Will you come?""Surely; how far is it, John?""About 25 miles up the mountain, and 10 miles down; but I am still good for four miles an hour. Say, Mrs. Thompson, set on something for me to eat, the very best you have, for the Bible says, 'Be not slow to entertain strangers for thereby you may be entertaining angels, unaware.'"Soon after, early one morning, we saddled our horses and rode over to call on our new neighbors, when Brown would hear nothing but that we must stop with them overnight, and although we all visited, cooked, ate and slept in the same room, we did enjoy ourselves.Before retiring, we all knelt in family worship, when Brown prayed so clear and fervent that no one could doubt his faith in the loving Father, who he believed was listening.Ruth, Brown's eldest daughter, and her husband, Henry Thompson, were with them, and several of the younger children. Oliver, one of those killed at Harper's Ferry, recently, was then about 10 years old.After supper, Brown and I climbed onto the great rock, beside where his body now lies, when he revealed to me his disconnected plans of venturing into a slave state and arming negroes who could fight for their own liberty."But," said I, "the law gives those Southerners the right to hold slaves.""What law?" he exclaimed as he extended his lower jaw defiantly and repeated, "What law? Jesus defined laws as the will or mandate of Jehovah. If you call theconclusions of an assembly of men today which another assembly of men tomorrow can prove to be felonious, law, then John Brown is an outlaw; but if the Saviour's definition, 'Love the Lord, thy God, with all thy mind and soul, and thy neighbor as thyself,' is law, then John Brown is a law-abiding citizen, and will, if needs be, die for those who are in bondage, who have committed no crime."Then raising his tall form and moving slowly to and fro in the moonlight on the great rock, he continued in a soft tone."God calls every man and woman to duty and requires a response according to their individual ability. I feel that I have had a call to open the gate of freedom to the slaves in this, Columbia. This call is not a direct communication from God, but more in the line of duty. I am somehow impressed that I am the man to answer this call, for, when I pray for guidance, the echo seems to come back, 'Your strength is sufficient.' When you and I were boys, Dan, we read of famous persons whose characters glittered before us, but we somehow overlooked the fact that duty and praise do not travel hand in hand, but rather, that duty treads the thorny way and fame creeps softly after."Not only is this God's law, but it coincides with experience. Disappointment mingled with failure seems to be the earthly lot of man, and yet it is not failure. When the morn of eternity dawns, and you and I shall stand to be judged according to our past records, what will be more glorious than that we meet failure in trying to accomplish good? I know that slavery is a sin, and, if needs be, I will die for the cause."Of course, I saw Brown occasionally during the nextnine years, but I have no time this evening to relate his wildcat crusades in Kansas and Missouri, so we will pass over to the closing days of his life.Oliver, Brown's youngest son, grew up on the North Elba farm, and through him I was kept informed concerning Brown's border free-booters until Brown came and took him to the Kennedy Farm near Harper's Ferry.NEAR HARPER'S FERRY.Anna, Brown's oldest daughter by his second wife, returned from Maryland about the last of October, 1859, when at her father's request she sent for me and gave me all the particulars concerning their rendezvous at the Kennedy Farm and their contemplated raid on Hall's Rifle Works at Harper's Ferry.The next day, after promising my pets, my wife and Vida, that I would not join the mutineers, as Vida liked to call them, I left for Washington, and was soon in consultation with John Brown in the attic of the little house on the Kennedy Farm, where Anna had, as Brown said, acted as his watchdog, entertaining and detaining all strangers until he or his men could disperse or prepare.I soon discovered that his attitude toward universal freedom had not abated, and that all his men, including three sons, had become much like him, as, at the prayer meeting in the little church nearby and the family altar, they often chimed in "Amen." As I think of them now I can truthfully say I never saw a band of men more Christianized in their expressions than those, for John had instilled into their minds his theory that the world was to be benefited by the struggle they were about to begin.One day Oliver, his father and I walked down to Harper's Ferry, and while returning in the evening, Oliver and I pressed him for an explanation of the course he would pursue when he had taken possession of the arms at the Rifle Works, as the slaves would be useless at first, but he had none—he seemed to rely implicitly upon God and the Northern abolitionists to see him through.Suddenly stopping us under the dark shadowy trees, and laying one hand on Oliver's shoulder and the other on mine, he said low and earnestly: "I do not know where I shall be when that beautiful moon has made its journey around this world once more, but one thing I do know and that is this: through my ceaseless efforts I have corralled the slave holders until now I have them in a trap. If my efforts are not impeded the slave will eventually free himself. If they are, and I am destroyed, the North, through sympathy for me and justice to the slave, will continue my cause until the bondmen are free. So you see I have them in a trap, but my aim is to avoid a bloody war, for the families in the South are as dear to me as those in the North, but slavery is a sin and must cease. Soon this generation will be passed, other men our lands will till and other men our streets will fill. When we are all gone the South as well as the North will speak kindly of him who dared to oppose his country's unjust laws."All of Brown's men as well as myself considered the Harper's Ferry raid an unwise move, but to Brown, human life seemed a secondary matter, as compared to the continuation of national sin.The last evening I stayed at the Kennedy Farm. After a supper of corn cake and molasses, Stephens and Tidd, who had melodious voices, sang "All the Dear Folks at Home Have Gone" and "Faded Flowers." Their voicesechoing softly down the glens where the tree of freedom was about to appear rooted and nourished in the blood of those brave helpless invaders. Oliver Brown, noticing my emotion, gave me a friendly slap on the shoulder, saying, "Now we will all join in with father, 'Nearer my God to Thee,'" which we did before kneeling together for the last time at that strange family altar.When I left for the North next day, the understanding was that the raid would not take place until about November 1st, but condition made it expedient for them to move at once, which they did.I arrived home the 17th of October, and after supper I saddled the horses, when my wife, Vida and myself ran up the mountains at a spirited canter, arriving at the Brown Farm in the dark. In the small frame house we found his wife, Mary, and three of his daughters, Anna, Sarah and Ellen; Mary, the wife of Oliver; Henry and Ruth Thompson and several neighbors.All listened in silence, while I related the incidents of my visit at the Kennedy Farm, but, of course, none of us knew that Brown had already taken possession of Harper's Ferry, that Oliver and Watson had been killed, and that the old man was holding out so grimly in the engine house.About ten days later the exaggerated telegrams concerning Harper's Ferry were afloat which set us all agog, but not until Friday the 21st did we get a copy of the New York Times, of the 18th, which I took up to the Elba home, and we all listened while Annie read it through, then for several moments all remained silent, as we thought father and all were dead.Later we learned that the father was alive, but Watsonand Oliver were dead, and that Owen was missing, which was considered equivalent to being dead.John Brown's trial ended October 21st. On November 2d he was sentenced to be hanged, which execution was carried out December 2, 1859.Of those missing, Cook and Haslet were captured, and we took it for granted that Owen and the other three for whom there was a reward offered had been killed at the Ferry, but not reported.THE DEAD APPEARNear the time set for the execution of Mr. Brown we were all nervous, especially our Vida and Sarah Brown; they were about ready to fly, and what happened, Vida must tell it herself."Oh, no, papa; you're telling the story; keep right on."Well, as I have said, we knew that the three Brown boys, Watson, Owen and Oliver, were dead and the father was to be executed December 2d, and we were running back and forth to the Elba Farm all the time, trying to help the women to bear up under this trying ordeal.One dark evening, the last of November, two neighboring girls came in and stayed until after 10 o'clock, when Vida and my wife accompanied them to the gate. When she returned, as we were sitting before the fire in this big fireplace, a soft rap came on the door, which we seldom use, and as I rose up Vida said: "That is Flossy, let me go."The door being in the entry, from where we sat Mary and I could not see Vida when she opened it, but listened if we might recognize the voice. The voice being inaudible, I started to go just as Vida uttered a low moan, staggered backwards to where I could see her, and fell in a dead faint.I sprang to the open door and called out, but could see nor hear no one. Then I closed and locked it, and Mary brought the camphor, but we could not bring her back, so as to tell whom she had seen for a long time.When she recovered she said it was one of the Browns, but she thought he was dead. I instantly decided it was John Brown, who had escaped from Charlestown jail, which was a feasible conclusion, as all the news we were receiving in the Adirondacks was nearly a week old and unreliable.Rushing out I ran down into the road, calling John by name, when I heard a voice near the house, and turning back, discovered it was Owen Brown, who had been reported missing, and we supposed he was dead.When in out of the cold and before the big fireplace with Mary washing his hands and face, Vida trying to untangle his unkempt hair and I getting off his shoes, which had not been removed in weeks, he covered his face with his hands and wept, but did not speak.After supper he listened to our reports from Harper's Ferry and North Elba as we had gained them, and then inquired if I thought it was imprudent for him to try to visit those at home, to which I assured him that he would be more safe in Washington than he was in the Adirondacks."Then," said he, "it is better that they never know you have seen me." Then turning to Vida said: "You can keep a secret?" Vida put her hand on his head saying, "Try me and see."It was soon arranged that Mary should spend the next day cleaning and fixing his clothes, Vida would run Fleet Foot Jim up to the Elba Farm and without revealing anything bring back all the news, while I was to borrow what money he might require, and the following night he and I were to run, on saddle, to Robert Doan, a staunch abolitionist, from which place he would make his way to his brother at Dorsett, Ohio.VIDA'S DARING EXPLOITWe were unable to get Owen ready for the night ride until the second evening, when Vida declared her intention to accompany us as far as Jobe's Hill, seventeen miles down the mountain. "For," said she, "when Mr. Brown is clear from the Adirondack region, he can make his way in comparative safety to Utica, or if he is going to Ohio, he can follow the lake shore to Rochester. Now do not say no, Papa, for I am not afraid; they will never catch Old Jim while I am on his back. Besides, a lady riding with two men might fool even a shrewd detective, if such a thing might be that any of our mountain greenhorns have turned detectives for the sake of the reward which is out for Owen.""Why, Vida," said Owen."Please do not object, Mr. Brown. I am an Adirondack lassie who used to go barefoot in summer, and I know as much about these backwood aspirants as anyone.""Now, my dear child," I said."Papa," she continued, "will you, for once, allow your pet to have her own way? If you should be caught, think of the consequences; and you, Mamma and I would be ashamed to hold up our heads in church. Now, Mamma, will you take my side?""You know, Papa," said Mrs. Thompson, "that all the girls are accustomed to—""All right—all right," I said, for I felt that Vida's plan was sensible.i143ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS.VIDA THOMPSON ON HER WILD MIDNIGHT RIDE.At 10 o'clock, when we went out to saddle the horses, we were startled by two strangers standing near the gate, but soon learned they were wood choppers from the timberlands farther up the mountain, who had become confused, thinking they might be on the wrong road.Fleet Foot Jim, who was always proud when my wife or Vida was on his back, pranced, nibbled his bit, paced and cantered until Vida patted his neck and talked baby talk to him, when he steadied down and we went on at a brisk trot, seldom speaking until we reached Jobe's Hill, where Vida kissed me again, bidding me not to worry, shook hands good-bye with Owen and she was off on a spirited run through the midnight gloom.Brown and I listened to the klick of the horse's feet as they made the turn down through the dark timber valley, then ascending the hill the klicking grew fainter until they passed over the brow of the hill, when it ceased altogether."Listen," said I to Brown, "the long wooden bridge we came over is not more than two miles away," and as we waited the rumbling thunder from old Jim's heels on the bridge assured us that Vida's lonely midnight ride up the Adirondack Mountains would soon be over, and so it was, for she left the hemlock grove on Jobe's Hill at just 11:30 and bounced into her waiting mother's arms at home at 12:15, making the 17 miles in 45 minutes, which she always refers to as her glorious midnight ride.OWEN BROWN'S STORY"Soon after you left us at the Kennedy Farm we were startled by the rumor that the authorities were about to come down upon us, so we decided to seize the arsenal Sunday night."Father routed us out earlier than usual for our family worship on Sunday morning, and all of us knelt together for the last time."Now Oliver and Watson are dead, father is to be hanged tomorrow, I am a fugitive with a large reward over me and most of the others are either dead or soon will be."We left Kennedy Farm at dusk Sunday, October 16, 1859. In our party there were, besides father; Watson, Oliver and I, Marriam, the two Coppic boys, Cook, Tidd, Kagi, Taylor, Bill Thompson, Hazlett, Copeland, Leary, Greene, Anderson and several other men."Father rode in the wagon and the others walked two by two, all but Marriam, Cook, Barclay, Coppic and myself, who were left to guard the arms and other effects until we heard from the raid."Tidd came out to us in the morning stating that the battle was going on fiercely and that our men were being hemmed in on all sides. Then he reported that more than fifty had been killed, the Mayor of Harper's Ferry had been shot, and Watson and Oliver were dead; so, upon this report we decided to flee from the scene and leave all behind."We hastily ate and fixed up as much lunch as we could carry, when Marriam, Coppic, Cook, Tidd and myself ran across the country to Maryland Heights, where we could view the scene but could not help."At first we saw no troops, but hundreds of men from behind trees, rocks and buildings firing at our men, who, as yet, held the town. We could see father, with sword in hand, walking about apparently encouraging the men."Soon we saw a squad of more than a hundred soldiers leave the bridge and march down the street towards father and his few men, and could see father begin preparing for the onslaught."When they were about two hundred feet distant father apparently gave the word to fire, and it was kept up until two of our men and more than twenty of their troop lay dead in the street, while their live ones retreated in confusion to the covered bridge from whence they came."Truly it was a strange sight to see father, an old man, with a handful of mountaineers holding the town of Harper's Ferry against that company of Maryland regulars, besides receiving an occasional shot from behind buildings or other places of safety. He was facing odds of more than fifty to one, who, not knowing what father's re-enforcements might be, were really panic stricken."Through continuous firing, one after another of our few men were shot down, until father abandoned the arsenal and seemed to be barricading the engine house with his few men, probably not more than three or four besides himself."Colonel Robert E. Lee, with a company of United States Marines, appeared just before dark but did notattempt to capture the enemy's stronghold in the engine house, possibly because he had heard the rumor that father had three or four thousand men in the mountains waiting his command."Knowing that anything more on our part to help father would virtually be suicide, we gathered up our effects and started on our night tramp through the Blue Ridge Mountains in a northwesterly direction."We traveled in the roads strung out about ten rods apart, myself in advance, so when I met anyone I would engage him in conversation until the other boys were concealed from the view of the road. When passing villages we climbed the fences and ran around."Soon our food was ear corn, which we pillaged from the farmers. This we could not pop or roast, as we dare not build a fire. We could travel in the rain nights, but we could not sleep days when it was wet and cold, and we suffered terribly. After several days suffering, Cook proposed to venture into the town for food, to which Tidd strongly objected and I often had my hands full trying to quiet their quarrels."About the sixth day out we slept on a mountain which overlooked Ole Forge, near Chambersburg, Pa., where Cook was determined to go down for food, which he did, and never returned, and as you know, was captured and will soon share the fate of others at Charlestown."Marriam was now so weak that he could go no further, and I at a great risk, got him down to Chambersburg, where he boarded a train without detection. Then we were but three.""Fearing that Cook might be forced to reveal our whereabouts and intentions, we traveled all that night back towards the hill from whence we came, making ourcourse as zigzag as possible, so detectives would be unable to design our intentions or lay in wait for us."The third day after Cook's capture, an old lady hunting nuts in the woods came spank upon us, while we were sleeping in the sun. We were still near Chambersburg and from what she had heard she knew who we were, and told us so. To kill her would be wrong, to let her go back and report would be dangerous; but she soon put us at ease by telling about her abolition friends in Massachusetts and how her son, with whom she lived, and all her neighbors would help us on the way."We trusted her and at dark we found ourselves in her son's home eating chicken-pie and drinking hot coffee, which we had not partaken of in ten days. Soon another sympathizer came in and the two men arranged to take us on our journey as far as they could before morning."When we were small, father used to tell us children about the angels and I formed the idea that they were sweet, lovely and looked beautiful, but oh, Mr. Thompson, that dear old lady, I wish you could have seen her just as she looked to me that night, stepping around so softly to make us comfortable. Why, Thompson, she seemed so handsome, while looking through my tears I actually think she might have been an angel which God sent to comfort us. When we were ready to start, she put her arm around each of our necks and kissed us, saying, 'We will play that I am your mother, just for tonight.'"Acting on our host's guarantee, we rode boldly down through Chambersburg, where Cook had just been taken, but all was well. At break of day, when about forty-five miles away, we jumped out with our luggage, eight loavesof bread and part of a boiled ham, and fled into the woods."Now we found ourselves among the Quakers, who fed and protected us, and in a few days we separated, I working my way to you, and here I am tonight."Father taught his followers that the move on Harper's Ferry would precipitate conditions which would free the slaves. If, as we believe, God was leading him, it surely will, for dark as it appears to us today, it may be all right when viewed by the coming generations."Then in a voice, just like old John Brown himself, Owen softly sang a verse of the hymn, "God Moves in a Mysterious Way His Wonders to Perform." We rode a little way in silence and again he struck up:"Let us love one another as long as we stayWhere storm after storm rises dark o'er the way."i151NEAR JOHN BROWN'S ADIRONDACK HOME, 1911.AFTER THE MIST HAD CLEARED AWAYForty-six years have passed since the sixteen year old Vida played her part so well in the strange drama of freedom's birth, and now, in an automobile tour to the coast of Maine with my wife, Mary Prickett, and our sixteen year old Vida, who to me, is a veritable imprint of the afore-characterized Vida Thompson. I again travel the winding roads of the old Adirondack Mountains.We visit the John Brown farm, sit in his easy chair, and climb the great rock which silently stands sentinel where, in turn, the cold winter's blasts in their wild midnight ride howl weirdly, and the sweet spring mornings awaken the forest song birds who shy their nests among the wild flowers near the grace of the old Hero—John Brown.The Browns are gone from North Elba. New York State has secured possession of the farm and erected a fitting monument to the memory of John Brown. When the old home is gone, and the monument has been replaced, the great rock will stand there just as Brown found it, seeming to say, "I alone will stay and guard his long repose."Strangers now live in the Thompson home, the evergreen on Jobe's Hill is seen no more, the long wooden bridge over which Old Jim thundered out the distant echo as he hastened the fair Vida through the mountains, has been replaced and each fair day, as the evening sun nears Ontario's restless waves, it kisses a fond adieu tothe little cemetery where Mr. and Mrs. Thompson sleep, while a little child smoothes Grandma Vida's silver locks on yonder's distant shore where the grand old Pacific ebbs and flows as time rolls on.i155YANKEE HORSEMEN.LEFT TO RIGHT, UPPER. PERRIN, PARKHOUSE, WILSON, MERRICK, SLATER.LEFT TO RIGHT, LOWER. JONES, WESTCOTT, COLLINS, GORDON, SHERMAN.YANKEE HORSEMEN GO WESTThe following year, 1865, it appears Gordon and I were not satisfied to let well enough alone, so we gave up our lucrative business for something more leisurely, by going into Batavia, New York, as fruit dealers. We had a stack of money and pitched right in, buying up whole orchards and paying approximately 40 per cent down, and when apples declined from $8.00 to $5.00 per barrel we had hardly enough money left to get out of town with, but our brother, Collins, loaned us all we needed and we struck out again at our old business, undaunted, as though nothing had happened.The next year, 1866, we three brothers, with our wives, and all our teams hung out for the winter at Cleveland, Ohio.Collins and Martha.Merrick and Mary.Gordon and Amanda.In the spring, 1867, with about fifty teams, we scattered over the south and west planning a rendezvous on the Mississippi River, where we all grouped for about three months. Our evenings of sport are better remembered than imagined. We had expanded our business until there were nearly 100 of us, playing tricks on each other, wrestling, lifting, swimming, running horses, telling stories, singing songs, etc.One of our men, a hostler, named Kelly, made an impromptu speech one evening, which was comical, butwithout the surroundings could not be appreciated. Ramson Young started an old-time school play of snapping the whip. It consisted of a captain standing at his post and as many as were take hold of hands and when he gave the word, all start on a swing to run around him. Of course, the outer one must run faster and the trick was to all pull the outer or tail man off his feet and see him try to save himself from falling. They got Kelly on the end and when he came around the next man let go of his hand, his body got ahead of his legs and he ran among the tables and dishes and through the camp fire in his big bare feet, before he could stop, but did not catch on that it was intentional.Next evening the boys gathered again and when Kelly saw that he would be on the tail end, he let go, and stepping onto a stump said: "Gentlemen, I am a Hoosier, born in the State of Indiana, and an uneducated man, but you will never again get me on the tail end of that 'ere." I did not like to see Young impose on Kelly, so I embraced the first opportunity to even up matters. One evening while waiting in camp for supper, near Duluth, Kelly was exhibiting his new shotgun, when Young said to me: "I'm going to bet with Kelly he cannot hit my new hat at twenty paces, and you must load the gun, but put in no shot.""I will do nothing of the kind," I said."Yes, you will, Mr. Richardson; this is just for a joke.""I tell you I will have nothing to do with your tricks.""Kelly," he cried, "I will bet you a quarter that you cannot hit my new hat at twenty paces, and Mr. Richardson says he will load the gun.""All right," says Kelly, "Richardson is honest; I will trust him."I again refused, but when they both insisted I took the new gun and ammunition and when out of sight I put in, not only a good charge of powder, but a whole handful of buckshot, and when I delivered it, Young said to Kelly: "Suppose we make it fifty cents instead of a quarter?" "All right," said Kelly.By this time all the boys were excited, for they knew Kelly could hit the hat, and Young began betting five and ten cents each, with them, until he had nearly two dollars up and his new straw hat on stake.Young caught me smiling, and looked at a little scared as he whispered, "There is no shot in the gun?" to which I paid no attention. Now Kelly squared himself and took aim long and steady and then fired. Of course, blowing the new hat all to driblets.Young gave me one wicked glance and then stood around like a rooster in the rain, and when the joke got out he simply remarked, "If a man cannot trust a preacher, who can he trust?"We had a ministerial looking fellow with us, who gave his name as Wilson from New Jersey. He had worked for us but a few months when one morning three men came up and stopped one of our teams. Wilson, who was driving a front team, looked back, and, dropping his rein, ran for the woods, nearly a half mile distant, looking neither to the right or left until he disappeared into the bushes. Next day, going through a piece of woods, I heard Wilson's voice, "Is everything all right?" and when told that the men only wanted to buy a horse, he still suspected that he had seen one of them before.Although he was with us until near the end of our travels he never told us why he ran so fast.Of course, our lives were full of peculiar incidents. Mr. Young, who deputized me to load the gun, delighted in telling the fortunes of those who came around the camp fire in the evening, and it was rich to listen to him when he had a fellow and girl on the string, who were really serious.

SCHOOL DAYSNearby was a backwoods school which was called the White Birch, where about eighty scholars met in winter to fit themselves for future eminence. Here it was that life's troubles began with me. The mode of punishment in those days for a boy was to draw him over the master's knee and spank him, and I am quite sure I got more floggings than all the other seventy-nine scholars together. Tom Wheelock often spanked me so furiously that the rising dust often made the other scholars think he was setting me on fire.From the first at school I had been a mental genius. When eight years old I could calculate in my head problems intended for large scholars to work out with slate and pencil. The knottiest problems in Colburn's old mental arithmetic were as simple for me as three times ten, and this I could do without ever looking at the rules. But, oh, my spelling, reading and writing were shockingly deficient, and my grammar was laughable. Once the master compelled me to write a composition, and when he read it he laughed and said, "The ideas are good, Merrick, but it needs a Philadelphia lawyer to connect them."I would as soon fight as eat and was ready to hammer any boy of my size who had broken up a bird's nest, and was ready to protect the girls to the limit of my strength and ability. Whether I was right or wrong, I can now see that I was unconsciously following the dictatesof conscience. When fourteen years old I took a serious dislike to punishment of any kind, and the result was that I left school for good.i112WABBAQUASSETT GIRLS. NEWELL HILL IN THE DISTANCE.

Nearby was a backwoods school which was called the White Birch, where about eighty scholars met in winter to fit themselves for future eminence. Here it was that life's troubles began with me. The mode of punishment in those days for a boy was to draw him over the master's knee and spank him, and I am quite sure I got more floggings than all the other seventy-nine scholars together. Tom Wheelock often spanked me so furiously that the rising dust often made the other scholars think he was setting me on fire.

From the first at school I had been a mental genius. When eight years old I could calculate in my head problems intended for large scholars to work out with slate and pencil. The knottiest problems in Colburn's old mental arithmetic were as simple for me as three times ten, and this I could do without ever looking at the rules. But, oh, my spelling, reading and writing were shockingly deficient, and my grammar was laughable. Once the master compelled me to write a composition, and when he read it he laughed and said, "The ideas are good, Merrick, but it needs a Philadelphia lawyer to connect them."

I would as soon fight as eat and was ready to hammer any boy of my size who had broken up a bird's nest, and was ready to protect the girls to the limit of my strength and ability. Whether I was right or wrong, I can now see that I was unconsciously following the dictatesof conscience. When fourteen years old I took a serious dislike to punishment of any kind, and the result was that I left school for good.

i112

WABBAQUASSETT GIRLS. NEWELL HILL IN THE DISTANCE.

WABBAQUASSETT GIRLS. NEWELL HILL IN THE DISTANCE.

WABBAQUASSETT GIRLS. NEWELL HILL IN THE DISTANCE.

COUNTRY BOYS IN TOWNMy boyhood days were spent in what might be termed, the upper strata of the last stages of the tallow candle age. Mother dipped candles each fall to light us through the year. Whale oil was also used, but a little later coal oil from Pennsylvania came into vogue.In order to obtain whale oil, vessels for that purpose were sent out from New Bedford, New London, New York and other harbors along the northern Atlantic Coast. Accordingly, four of us youngsters, my brother Collins, Lucius Aborn, Lyman Newell and myself, formed a scheme to go catching whales and decided to visit New York and look the matter up and, if possible, learn why our parents so seriously objected to having us become sailors.Accordingly, we went to Hartford and took the night steamer, on the Connecticut River, for New York. While waiting for the boat in Hartford we all went out to get shaved and I remember it, for it was my first shave.The barber must have been a funny fellow, of the Abe Lincoln type, who looked serious when he said and did funny things. He was not sparing of his lather, for my ears held quite a lot, but I bore it bravely until he grabbed me right by the nose to begin, which made me burst out laughing and let the lather run into my mouth. When I sobered down he would seize me by the nose and begin again, which would make my friends and the other barbers all laugh. I laughed a little myself, buthe never smiled—just watched for his chance to seize me. When he got through, without a smile, he said he never charged boys anything for the first shave.On the steamer, of which the cabins seemed to me as dazzling, beautiful and wonderful as the constellation of Orion does now, the cabin porter got our cow-hide boots, while we were asleep, and shined them and then demanded ten cents for each boot, but we compromised on ten cents for the whole lot, and threatened to throw him overboard at that.When we landed at Peck Slip, New York, we at once inquired for the office where sailors were enlisted for three-year voyages catching whales.The agent was a man probably seventy years old and began inquiring our names and where we were from, and then he said he knew about Square Pond, as he once drove stage right along its shore on the old route from Hartford to Boston. Then he said: "Sit down, boys," and he talked to us to this effect:"Now, boys, you do not want to enlist for a three years' voyage. If you have got the fishing fever I can get you all a chance on a smack for three months, off the coast of Newfoundland, catching codfish. Then if you are not sick of the job you can go whaling." We listened to him kindly and finally gave up, not only the whaling, but the fishing altogether.We then began canvassing the book stores for a book which Lyman had heard about, which boys ought not to read, and that was why he wanted it. The title was "Fanny Hill," and when we inquired at the book stores we were turned down, until we struck a Yankee who sold second-hand books, who inquired where we were from, and when our boat would leave New York, and then said he hardly dare sell it to us for fear he would be arrested.i116BEAUTIFUL WOMEN, WORTHY MEN, CHARMING OLD WABBAQUASSETT.CENTRAL LOWER LADY FIGURE, JULIA NEWELL WARNER, MY LIFE-LONG ESTEEMED FRIEND.The price he said was $1.00, and he would run the risk, if we would come around just before the boat started and then promise, all of us, not to open the package until the boat had left the dock. To this we readily agreed and then went on taking in the town, thinking more about the book than we did about the giants, pygmies, monkeys and elephants which we found at Barnum's Museum.We were now hungry again, so we took another oyster stew and then started up the Bowery, when we heard music and were invited in where a wheel table was turning. One could put down ten cents and might win $100.00. We were going shares in everything, so decided to risk ten cents, and the other boys allowed me to try. "Forty dollars," cried the man, and then discovered his mistake, that it was only forty cents, and then began telling of folks from the country winning money, and this was one of the stories which did not take:"A large man," he said, "came to New York from the mountains of Pennsylvania and offered to bet $50.00 that he could carry a feather-bed tick full of buckshot across Broadway on his head. Well, boys, we loaded the tick, which took nearly all the shot in the city, and he started. He won the bet, I saw him do it, but you see that stone pavement on Broadway, do you? Well, boys, when he crossed the street the load was so heavy that he mired into that stone pavement clear up to his knees, but he won the $50.00."Then we told him that we were liars ourselves, and trudged on, actually having beat the gamblers out of thirty cents.After another oyster stew dinner we strolled into the Bowery Theatre, where minstrels were playing, which amused us, as it was the first we had ever seen, and supposed they were genuine darkies. They sat in a half circle and after singing and playing, the two end men would ask questions, and one dialogue ran this way:"Rastus, I heard you was out last night.""Yes, Sah, I was out prominading on Broadway.""Did you have your best girl along?""Zartenly.""Did you take her home?""Zartenly.""Did she invite you in?""Not zackly. We stood inside the gate.""Did she exhibit great affection?""Great what?""Great affection.""I suppose so.""What did she and you do?""Dat am a pointed question, sah.""Well, but you said she showed great affection.""Showed what?""Great affection, Rastus. Did she love you?""Yes, sah, she squozed my hand and then I squoze her with my arm.""Squoze, Rastus? Why, there is no such word as squoze.""Yes, there is, for she said she had never been squoze by a regular man before.""Where do you get that word?""Noah Webster, sah. Shall I instruct you?""Certainly.""Is not rise, rose, risen, proper?""Certainly.""Then why not squize, squoze, squizzen?"Then they all sang again.One incident that I yet remember was that all had on light-colored vests, and while crossing Broadway, dodging here and there among the omnibusses, trucks, and other vehicles, such as we had never seen before, I slipped on the wet stone pavement and fell flat on my stomach, but it soon dried off and I was at the front again, and at the appointed time we appeared at the book store and gave the man his dollar, who again cautioned us not to let the police see it.It was papered up nicely and I can now see how nervously Newell jammed it into his inside pocket, which was not quite large enough, and then we boarded the steamer, all the while looking out of the corners of our eyes that no one suspicioned us.After the steamer had cleared the dock and Lute Aborn said we were on the high seas, we slipped around behind the wheel pit, for it was a side-wheeled steamer, and as Newell was nervously untying the string, he said: "Now we will all look at the pictures first and then you, Lute, who is the best reader, will read it aloud"—when, behold, it was nothing but a New Testament worth ten cents.This little Fanny Hill experience was really a blessing in disguise to us boys, but we did not think so at the time, and if we could have gotten hold of that dealer we would have taught him that there was yet a God in Israel.

My boyhood days were spent in what might be termed, the upper strata of the last stages of the tallow candle age. Mother dipped candles each fall to light us through the year. Whale oil was also used, but a little later coal oil from Pennsylvania came into vogue.

In order to obtain whale oil, vessels for that purpose were sent out from New Bedford, New London, New York and other harbors along the northern Atlantic Coast. Accordingly, four of us youngsters, my brother Collins, Lucius Aborn, Lyman Newell and myself, formed a scheme to go catching whales and decided to visit New York and look the matter up and, if possible, learn why our parents so seriously objected to having us become sailors.

Accordingly, we went to Hartford and took the night steamer, on the Connecticut River, for New York. While waiting for the boat in Hartford we all went out to get shaved and I remember it, for it was my first shave.

The barber must have been a funny fellow, of the Abe Lincoln type, who looked serious when he said and did funny things. He was not sparing of his lather, for my ears held quite a lot, but I bore it bravely until he grabbed me right by the nose to begin, which made me burst out laughing and let the lather run into my mouth. When I sobered down he would seize me by the nose and begin again, which would make my friends and the other barbers all laugh. I laughed a little myself, buthe never smiled—just watched for his chance to seize me. When he got through, without a smile, he said he never charged boys anything for the first shave.

On the steamer, of which the cabins seemed to me as dazzling, beautiful and wonderful as the constellation of Orion does now, the cabin porter got our cow-hide boots, while we were asleep, and shined them and then demanded ten cents for each boot, but we compromised on ten cents for the whole lot, and threatened to throw him overboard at that.

When we landed at Peck Slip, New York, we at once inquired for the office where sailors were enlisted for three-year voyages catching whales.

The agent was a man probably seventy years old and began inquiring our names and where we were from, and then he said he knew about Square Pond, as he once drove stage right along its shore on the old route from Hartford to Boston. Then he said: "Sit down, boys," and he talked to us to this effect:

"Now, boys, you do not want to enlist for a three years' voyage. If you have got the fishing fever I can get you all a chance on a smack for three months, off the coast of Newfoundland, catching codfish. Then if you are not sick of the job you can go whaling." We listened to him kindly and finally gave up, not only the whaling, but the fishing altogether.

We then began canvassing the book stores for a book which Lyman had heard about, which boys ought not to read, and that was why he wanted it. The title was "Fanny Hill," and when we inquired at the book stores we were turned down, until we struck a Yankee who sold second-hand books, who inquired where we were from, and when our boat would leave New York, and then said he hardly dare sell it to us for fear he would be arrested.

i116

BEAUTIFUL WOMEN, WORTHY MEN, CHARMING OLD WABBAQUASSETT.CENTRAL LOWER LADY FIGURE, JULIA NEWELL WARNER, MY LIFE-LONG ESTEEMED FRIEND.

BEAUTIFUL WOMEN, WORTHY MEN, CHARMING OLD WABBAQUASSETT.CENTRAL LOWER LADY FIGURE, JULIA NEWELL WARNER, MY LIFE-LONG ESTEEMED FRIEND.

BEAUTIFUL WOMEN, WORTHY MEN, CHARMING OLD WABBAQUASSETT.CENTRAL LOWER LADY FIGURE, JULIA NEWELL WARNER, MY LIFE-LONG ESTEEMED FRIEND.

The price he said was $1.00, and he would run the risk, if we would come around just before the boat started and then promise, all of us, not to open the package until the boat had left the dock. To this we readily agreed and then went on taking in the town, thinking more about the book than we did about the giants, pygmies, monkeys and elephants which we found at Barnum's Museum.

We were now hungry again, so we took another oyster stew and then started up the Bowery, when we heard music and were invited in where a wheel table was turning. One could put down ten cents and might win $100.00. We were going shares in everything, so decided to risk ten cents, and the other boys allowed me to try. "Forty dollars," cried the man, and then discovered his mistake, that it was only forty cents, and then began telling of folks from the country winning money, and this was one of the stories which did not take:

"A large man," he said, "came to New York from the mountains of Pennsylvania and offered to bet $50.00 that he could carry a feather-bed tick full of buckshot across Broadway on his head. Well, boys, we loaded the tick, which took nearly all the shot in the city, and he started. He won the bet, I saw him do it, but you see that stone pavement on Broadway, do you? Well, boys, when he crossed the street the load was so heavy that he mired into that stone pavement clear up to his knees, but he won the $50.00."

Then we told him that we were liars ourselves, and trudged on, actually having beat the gamblers out of thirty cents.

After another oyster stew dinner we strolled into the Bowery Theatre, where minstrels were playing, which amused us, as it was the first we had ever seen, and supposed they were genuine darkies. They sat in a half circle and after singing and playing, the two end men would ask questions, and one dialogue ran this way:

"Rastus, I heard you was out last night."

"Yes, Sah, I was out prominading on Broadway."

"Did you have your best girl along?"

"Zartenly."

"Did you take her home?"

"Zartenly."

"Did she invite you in?"

"Not zackly. We stood inside the gate."

"Did she exhibit great affection?"

"Great what?"

"Great affection."

"I suppose so."

"What did she and you do?"

"Dat am a pointed question, sah."

"Well, but you said she showed great affection."

"Showed what?"

"Great affection, Rastus. Did she love you?"

"Yes, sah, she squozed my hand and then I squoze her with my arm."

"Squoze, Rastus? Why, there is no such word as squoze."

"Yes, there is, for she said she had never been squoze by a regular man before."

"Where do you get that word?"

"Noah Webster, sah. Shall I instruct you?"

"Certainly."

"Is not rise, rose, risen, proper?"

"Certainly."

"Then why not squize, squoze, squizzen?"

Then they all sang again.

One incident that I yet remember was that all had on light-colored vests, and while crossing Broadway, dodging here and there among the omnibusses, trucks, and other vehicles, such as we had never seen before, I slipped on the wet stone pavement and fell flat on my stomach, but it soon dried off and I was at the front again, and at the appointed time we appeared at the book store and gave the man his dollar, who again cautioned us not to let the police see it.

It was papered up nicely and I can now see how nervously Newell jammed it into his inside pocket, which was not quite large enough, and then we boarded the steamer, all the while looking out of the corners of our eyes that no one suspicioned us.

After the steamer had cleared the dock and Lute Aborn said we were on the high seas, we slipped around behind the wheel pit, for it was a side-wheeled steamer, and as Newell was nervously untying the string, he said: "Now we will all look at the pictures first and then you, Lute, who is the best reader, will read it aloud"—when, behold, it was nothing but a New Testament worth ten cents.

This little Fanny Hill experience was really a blessing in disguise to us boys, but we did not think so at the time, and if we could have gotten hold of that dealer we would have taught him that there was yet a God in Israel.

AS A YANKEE TIN PEDDLERAt the Methodist Church just south of Wabbaquassett there were revivals each winter and with other I experienced religion, but mine, even though serious, sort of struck in and did not break out again for several years.At the age of nineteen I had become sort of terror to my enemies, for I was quick, strong and fearless. One night I had my usual warning dream, of trouble ahead, and the next day I nearly killed a man as fearless as myself. The following day when I caught my father weeping I resolved ever after to avoid all personal encounters, which determination for self-control has carried me over many a rickety bridge in safety, and my warning dreams have never troubled me since.Farming soon became too tame for me, and while nature's adornments which made up and surrounded our quiet home, often charmed my soul into serious dreamlike fancies, yet, somehow I enjoyed singing funny songs and telling stories, together with their proper amendments and legitimate construction—in fact, like my mother, I could tell an old story which every one had heard forty times in such a way as to cause laughter. Therefore, as farm life seemed to be an insufficient incubator for hatching out fresh productions, I mysteriously evolved into the seemingly exalted position of a Yankee Tin Peddler.i122ALBUM OF SUNNY DAYS.CENTRAL LOWER LIKENESS IS OF MY COUSIN O. M. RICHARDSON, NOW RETIRED MANUFACTURER OF ROCKVILLE, CONN. THREE GIRLS IN CENTRAL SCENE, LINA, ELVA AND JOSEPHINE NEWELL, DAUGHTERS OF MY SISTER JANETTE AT HER OLD WABBAQUASSETT HOME. 1890.There were at that time at least ten firms in New England and York State who manufactured tinware, for which they loaned carts and gave credit to lively chaps who had teams. The peddler would go on the road and trade the tinware for barter, old iron, copper, brass, lead, zinc and all kinds of paper stock, besides cow hides and sheep pelts or anything of which he knew the value, and ship it in to pay his account. It was a lucrative business for a clever boy, often clearing $100.00 per week besides his expenses. Also it gave him a chance to study human nature, as a good peddler must be able to read his customer before he says the wrong thing, for a frolicsome Irish woman appreciates a tone and language with perhaps a friendly slap on the shoulder, which would frighten an elderly, sedate, bloodless maiden into spasms.Soon my two brothers and myself with several neighboring young men were into the business, and in the Spring of 1861 Alonzo Shepherd and myself ventured a trip to Long Island by the way of New York City. On this trip we acquired both wealth and fame. The ridiculous instances of our travels often come up before me now. We were continually playing tricks on each other which always ended in laughter. On this trip we became horse traders, which proved to be more lucrative than peddling.In 1863 I shipped my team to Batavia, New York, and in August sent for my brother Gordon to come to Dunkirk, where I had another team, and we peddled through Pennsylvania, Ohio and Michigan, returning to Connecticut in the Fall, after which I returned to Elba, N. Y., where, December 10th, I married Mary Jane Hoyt, a beautiful, intelligent girl of twenty years.The following year, 1864, with several other teams each, we came West again and returned to Albany for the winter. On my return I followed the shore road ofLake Ontario around to Watertown, N. Y., while Gordon returned through Pennsylvania, our object being to buy horses of the mountain farmers.i126MARY JANE HOYT, ELBA. N. Y., 1863. WILDER WOODS.THIS PICTURE WAS TAKEN THE SUMMER BEFORE WE WERE MARRIED.

At the Methodist Church just south of Wabbaquassett there were revivals each winter and with other I experienced religion, but mine, even though serious, sort of struck in and did not break out again for several years.

At the age of nineteen I had become sort of terror to my enemies, for I was quick, strong and fearless. One night I had my usual warning dream, of trouble ahead, and the next day I nearly killed a man as fearless as myself. The following day when I caught my father weeping I resolved ever after to avoid all personal encounters, which determination for self-control has carried me over many a rickety bridge in safety, and my warning dreams have never troubled me since.

Farming soon became too tame for me, and while nature's adornments which made up and surrounded our quiet home, often charmed my soul into serious dreamlike fancies, yet, somehow I enjoyed singing funny songs and telling stories, together with their proper amendments and legitimate construction—in fact, like my mother, I could tell an old story which every one had heard forty times in such a way as to cause laughter. Therefore, as farm life seemed to be an insufficient incubator for hatching out fresh productions, I mysteriously evolved into the seemingly exalted position of a Yankee Tin Peddler.

i122

ALBUM OF SUNNY DAYS.CENTRAL LOWER LIKENESS IS OF MY COUSIN O. M. RICHARDSON, NOW RETIRED MANUFACTURER OF ROCKVILLE, CONN. THREE GIRLS IN CENTRAL SCENE, LINA, ELVA AND JOSEPHINE NEWELL, DAUGHTERS OF MY SISTER JANETTE AT HER OLD WABBAQUASSETT HOME. 1890.

ALBUM OF SUNNY DAYS.CENTRAL LOWER LIKENESS IS OF MY COUSIN O. M. RICHARDSON, NOW RETIRED MANUFACTURER OF ROCKVILLE, CONN. THREE GIRLS IN CENTRAL SCENE, LINA, ELVA AND JOSEPHINE NEWELL, DAUGHTERS OF MY SISTER JANETTE AT HER OLD WABBAQUASSETT HOME. 1890.

ALBUM OF SUNNY DAYS.CENTRAL LOWER LIKENESS IS OF MY COUSIN O. M. RICHARDSON, NOW RETIRED MANUFACTURER OF ROCKVILLE, CONN. THREE GIRLS IN CENTRAL SCENE, LINA, ELVA AND JOSEPHINE NEWELL, DAUGHTERS OF MY SISTER JANETTE AT HER OLD WABBAQUASSETT HOME. 1890.

There were at that time at least ten firms in New England and York State who manufactured tinware, for which they loaned carts and gave credit to lively chaps who had teams. The peddler would go on the road and trade the tinware for barter, old iron, copper, brass, lead, zinc and all kinds of paper stock, besides cow hides and sheep pelts or anything of which he knew the value, and ship it in to pay his account. It was a lucrative business for a clever boy, often clearing $100.00 per week besides his expenses. Also it gave him a chance to study human nature, as a good peddler must be able to read his customer before he says the wrong thing, for a frolicsome Irish woman appreciates a tone and language with perhaps a friendly slap on the shoulder, which would frighten an elderly, sedate, bloodless maiden into spasms.

Soon my two brothers and myself with several neighboring young men were into the business, and in the Spring of 1861 Alonzo Shepherd and myself ventured a trip to Long Island by the way of New York City. On this trip we acquired both wealth and fame. The ridiculous instances of our travels often come up before me now. We were continually playing tricks on each other which always ended in laughter. On this trip we became horse traders, which proved to be more lucrative than peddling.

In 1863 I shipped my team to Batavia, New York, and in August sent for my brother Gordon to come to Dunkirk, where I had another team, and we peddled through Pennsylvania, Ohio and Michigan, returning to Connecticut in the Fall, after which I returned to Elba, N. Y., where, December 10th, I married Mary Jane Hoyt, a beautiful, intelligent girl of twenty years.

The following year, 1864, with several other teams each, we came West again and returned to Albany for the winter. On my return I followed the shore road ofLake Ontario around to Watertown, N. Y., while Gordon returned through Pennsylvania, our object being to buy horses of the mountain farmers.

i126

MARY JANE HOYT, ELBA. N. Y., 1863. WILDER WOODS.THIS PICTURE WAS TAKEN THE SUMMER BEFORE WE WERE MARRIED.

MARY JANE HOYT, ELBA. N. Y., 1863. WILDER WOODS.THIS PICTURE WAS TAKEN THE SUMMER BEFORE WE WERE MARRIED.

MARY JANE HOYT, ELBA. N. Y., 1863. WILDER WOODS.THIS PICTURE WAS TAKEN THE SUMMER BEFORE WE WERE MARRIED.

THE THOMPSON FAMILY.From Watertown, I worked East, where I fell in with a family by the name of Thompson, who owned a large stock-raising farm in the foot hills of Mount Seward, not far from North Elba, the Adirondack home of John Brown.My experience with the Thompsons left a vivid impression on my memory which never grows dim.As I remember them Mr. Thompson was short, heavy set, blue eyed, fair complexion, with a physiognomy indicating that he seldom suffered defeat. He was usually thoughtful and serious, but when telling stories or relating experience he was full of mirth.Mary, his wife, was an interesting woman. Her stout figure, dark eyes and hair with fair skin made her look striking, especially in laughing, when her eyes twinkled and gave expression of mirth. All the animals on the farm were seemingly her special pets, but their little dog Joe came in for the lion's share. Really the little white, curly fellow with black eyes and nose, when standing erect with head and tail up, did look as though he was monarch of all he surveyed. Everybody loved him except the cats. Much of Mrs. Thompson's time was given over to church work, for which she must have been well fitted, as her Christian character was discernible at every move and turn.Vida, their daughter of sixteen summers, was fair, with large dark eyes, auburn hair and prominent chin.Her quick glance and mirthful smile betokened self-esteem and decisive character, while glee and dare innocently portrayed pent emotion and artful design.During the evening I turned the conversation to the story of John Brown, and was glad to learn that Mr. Thompson had been a near friend of Brown and was with him on the Kennedy farm only a few days before the raid on Harper's Ferry.At Mrs. Thompson's suggestion we planned that we four take a horseback ride after church services on the morrow, up to the Brown farm and see John's grave and the big rock nearby from which, in former days, he had done much preaching to the mountaineers.Our horses were good lopers, taking us up and downhill through the woods to the farm, at which we arrived very quickly, but found none of the family at home. We finally gained entrance to the little farm house and sat in John's chair by his cheap desk. Afterwards we climbed on the big rock now near his grave which seems to stand as a lone sentinel, in the rocky wilds, silently calling the coming generations to the resting place of the ashes of him who followed the dictates of conscience, regardless of immediate results.After enjoying hot cream biscuit with wild honey and crabapple jelly, with a neighbor of the Browns, we started down the mountain, and through the evening we sat before the crackling hickory flames in the great fireplace while Mr. Thompson gave his experience with the Browns, which were substantially as follows:i131JOHN BROWN, 1850.GOD CALLS EVERY MAN AND WOMAN TO DUTY AND REQUIRES A RESPONSE ACCORDING TO THEIR INDIVIDUAL ABILITY.

From Watertown, I worked East, where I fell in with a family by the name of Thompson, who owned a large stock-raising farm in the foot hills of Mount Seward, not far from North Elba, the Adirondack home of John Brown.

My experience with the Thompsons left a vivid impression on my memory which never grows dim.

As I remember them Mr. Thompson was short, heavy set, blue eyed, fair complexion, with a physiognomy indicating that he seldom suffered defeat. He was usually thoughtful and serious, but when telling stories or relating experience he was full of mirth.

Mary, his wife, was an interesting woman. Her stout figure, dark eyes and hair with fair skin made her look striking, especially in laughing, when her eyes twinkled and gave expression of mirth. All the animals on the farm were seemingly her special pets, but their little dog Joe came in for the lion's share. Really the little white, curly fellow with black eyes and nose, when standing erect with head and tail up, did look as though he was monarch of all he surveyed. Everybody loved him except the cats. Much of Mrs. Thompson's time was given over to church work, for which she must have been well fitted, as her Christian character was discernible at every move and turn.

Vida, their daughter of sixteen summers, was fair, with large dark eyes, auburn hair and prominent chin.Her quick glance and mirthful smile betokened self-esteem and decisive character, while glee and dare innocently portrayed pent emotion and artful design.

During the evening I turned the conversation to the story of John Brown, and was glad to learn that Mr. Thompson had been a near friend of Brown and was with him on the Kennedy farm only a few days before the raid on Harper's Ferry.

At Mrs. Thompson's suggestion we planned that we four take a horseback ride after church services on the morrow, up to the Brown farm and see John's grave and the big rock nearby from which, in former days, he had done much preaching to the mountaineers.

Our horses were good lopers, taking us up and downhill through the woods to the farm, at which we arrived very quickly, but found none of the family at home. We finally gained entrance to the little farm house and sat in John's chair by his cheap desk. Afterwards we climbed on the big rock now near his grave which seems to stand as a lone sentinel, in the rocky wilds, silently calling the coming generations to the resting place of the ashes of him who followed the dictates of conscience, regardless of immediate results.

After enjoying hot cream biscuit with wild honey and crabapple jelly, with a neighbor of the Browns, we started down the mountain, and through the evening we sat before the crackling hickory flames in the great fireplace while Mr. Thompson gave his experience with the Browns, which were substantially as follows:

i131

JOHN BROWN, 1850.GOD CALLS EVERY MAN AND WOMAN TO DUTY AND REQUIRES A RESPONSE ACCORDING TO THEIR INDIVIDUAL ABILITY.

JOHN BROWN, 1850.GOD CALLS EVERY MAN AND WOMAN TO DUTY AND REQUIRES A RESPONSE ACCORDING TO THEIR INDIVIDUAL ABILITY.

JOHN BROWN, 1850.GOD CALLS EVERY MAN AND WOMAN TO DUTY AND REQUIRES A RESPONSE ACCORDING TO THEIR INDIVIDUAL ABILITY.

JOHN BROWN.One evening in the summer of 1850, John Brown, whom I had known in Springfield, Mass., as a successful wool merchant, surprised us by calling, and relating his troubles."I," he said, "through misfortune or mismanagement, have lost the fortune which I amassed in 25 years. In trying to retrieve, I shipped my stock to Europe, but after staying there about four months I sold it so low that my loss, including the expense of the trip, left me stranded. My ardor for the slave has not in the least abated, and through the assistance of Gerritt Smith I have taken up land and am building a home over in North Elba, I am a sort of instructor to the colored folks of Smith's Wild Wood Colony."I have several colored men working for me in clearing up and planting, and they work well. I brought along some blooded cattle, pigs and hens, and finding many hard maples on the place, which produce sap for sirup, we feel quite independent. Two of our heifers have come in and we have plenty of milk, so I tell my wife if we have not crossed the Jordan into the land of milk and honey, we have crossed the Connecticut into the land of milk and maple molasses. Now I must be going in order to reach home before dark.""Stay, Mr. Brown," I said, "why, we have not visited at all yet.""I know, Mr. Thompson, but I came just to letyou know where we are, and if you will come to see us we will treat you to fried chicken, boiled potatoes, hot corn bread and fresh butter. Will you come?""Surely; how far is it, John?""About 25 miles up the mountain, and 10 miles down; but I am still good for four miles an hour. Say, Mrs. Thompson, set on something for me to eat, the very best you have, for the Bible says, 'Be not slow to entertain strangers for thereby you may be entertaining angels, unaware.'"Soon after, early one morning, we saddled our horses and rode over to call on our new neighbors, when Brown would hear nothing but that we must stop with them overnight, and although we all visited, cooked, ate and slept in the same room, we did enjoy ourselves.Before retiring, we all knelt in family worship, when Brown prayed so clear and fervent that no one could doubt his faith in the loving Father, who he believed was listening.Ruth, Brown's eldest daughter, and her husband, Henry Thompson, were with them, and several of the younger children. Oliver, one of those killed at Harper's Ferry, recently, was then about 10 years old.After supper, Brown and I climbed onto the great rock, beside where his body now lies, when he revealed to me his disconnected plans of venturing into a slave state and arming negroes who could fight for their own liberty."But," said I, "the law gives those Southerners the right to hold slaves.""What law?" he exclaimed as he extended his lower jaw defiantly and repeated, "What law? Jesus defined laws as the will or mandate of Jehovah. If you call theconclusions of an assembly of men today which another assembly of men tomorrow can prove to be felonious, law, then John Brown is an outlaw; but if the Saviour's definition, 'Love the Lord, thy God, with all thy mind and soul, and thy neighbor as thyself,' is law, then John Brown is a law-abiding citizen, and will, if needs be, die for those who are in bondage, who have committed no crime."Then raising his tall form and moving slowly to and fro in the moonlight on the great rock, he continued in a soft tone."God calls every man and woman to duty and requires a response according to their individual ability. I feel that I have had a call to open the gate of freedom to the slaves in this, Columbia. This call is not a direct communication from God, but more in the line of duty. I am somehow impressed that I am the man to answer this call, for, when I pray for guidance, the echo seems to come back, 'Your strength is sufficient.' When you and I were boys, Dan, we read of famous persons whose characters glittered before us, but we somehow overlooked the fact that duty and praise do not travel hand in hand, but rather, that duty treads the thorny way and fame creeps softly after."Not only is this God's law, but it coincides with experience. Disappointment mingled with failure seems to be the earthly lot of man, and yet it is not failure. When the morn of eternity dawns, and you and I shall stand to be judged according to our past records, what will be more glorious than that we meet failure in trying to accomplish good? I know that slavery is a sin, and, if needs be, I will die for the cause."Of course, I saw Brown occasionally during the nextnine years, but I have no time this evening to relate his wildcat crusades in Kansas and Missouri, so we will pass over to the closing days of his life.Oliver, Brown's youngest son, grew up on the North Elba farm, and through him I was kept informed concerning Brown's border free-booters until Brown came and took him to the Kennedy Farm near Harper's Ferry.NEAR HARPER'S FERRY.Anna, Brown's oldest daughter by his second wife, returned from Maryland about the last of October, 1859, when at her father's request she sent for me and gave me all the particulars concerning their rendezvous at the Kennedy Farm and their contemplated raid on Hall's Rifle Works at Harper's Ferry.The next day, after promising my pets, my wife and Vida, that I would not join the mutineers, as Vida liked to call them, I left for Washington, and was soon in consultation with John Brown in the attic of the little house on the Kennedy Farm, where Anna had, as Brown said, acted as his watchdog, entertaining and detaining all strangers until he or his men could disperse or prepare.I soon discovered that his attitude toward universal freedom had not abated, and that all his men, including three sons, had become much like him, as, at the prayer meeting in the little church nearby and the family altar, they often chimed in "Amen." As I think of them now I can truthfully say I never saw a band of men more Christianized in their expressions than those, for John had instilled into their minds his theory that the world was to be benefited by the struggle they were about to begin.One day Oliver, his father and I walked down to Harper's Ferry, and while returning in the evening, Oliver and I pressed him for an explanation of the course he would pursue when he had taken possession of the arms at the Rifle Works, as the slaves would be useless at first, but he had none—he seemed to rely implicitly upon God and the Northern abolitionists to see him through.Suddenly stopping us under the dark shadowy trees, and laying one hand on Oliver's shoulder and the other on mine, he said low and earnestly: "I do not know where I shall be when that beautiful moon has made its journey around this world once more, but one thing I do know and that is this: through my ceaseless efforts I have corralled the slave holders until now I have them in a trap. If my efforts are not impeded the slave will eventually free himself. If they are, and I am destroyed, the North, through sympathy for me and justice to the slave, will continue my cause until the bondmen are free. So you see I have them in a trap, but my aim is to avoid a bloody war, for the families in the South are as dear to me as those in the North, but slavery is a sin and must cease. Soon this generation will be passed, other men our lands will till and other men our streets will fill. When we are all gone the South as well as the North will speak kindly of him who dared to oppose his country's unjust laws."All of Brown's men as well as myself considered the Harper's Ferry raid an unwise move, but to Brown, human life seemed a secondary matter, as compared to the continuation of national sin.The last evening I stayed at the Kennedy Farm. After a supper of corn cake and molasses, Stephens and Tidd, who had melodious voices, sang "All the Dear Folks at Home Have Gone" and "Faded Flowers." Their voicesechoing softly down the glens where the tree of freedom was about to appear rooted and nourished in the blood of those brave helpless invaders. Oliver Brown, noticing my emotion, gave me a friendly slap on the shoulder, saying, "Now we will all join in with father, 'Nearer my God to Thee,'" which we did before kneeling together for the last time at that strange family altar.When I left for the North next day, the understanding was that the raid would not take place until about November 1st, but condition made it expedient for them to move at once, which they did.I arrived home the 17th of October, and after supper I saddled the horses, when my wife, Vida and myself ran up the mountains at a spirited canter, arriving at the Brown Farm in the dark. In the small frame house we found his wife, Mary, and three of his daughters, Anna, Sarah and Ellen; Mary, the wife of Oliver; Henry and Ruth Thompson and several neighbors.All listened in silence, while I related the incidents of my visit at the Kennedy Farm, but, of course, none of us knew that Brown had already taken possession of Harper's Ferry, that Oliver and Watson had been killed, and that the old man was holding out so grimly in the engine house.About ten days later the exaggerated telegrams concerning Harper's Ferry were afloat which set us all agog, but not until Friday the 21st did we get a copy of the New York Times, of the 18th, which I took up to the Elba home, and we all listened while Annie read it through, then for several moments all remained silent, as we thought father and all were dead.Later we learned that the father was alive, but Watsonand Oliver were dead, and that Owen was missing, which was considered equivalent to being dead.John Brown's trial ended October 21st. On November 2d he was sentenced to be hanged, which execution was carried out December 2, 1859.Of those missing, Cook and Haslet were captured, and we took it for granted that Owen and the other three for whom there was a reward offered had been killed at the Ferry, but not reported.

One evening in the summer of 1850, John Brown, whom I had known in Springfield, Mass., as a successful wool merchant, surprised us by calling, and relating his troubles.

"I," he said, "through misfortune or mismanagement, have lost the fortune which I amassed in 25 years. In trying to retrieve, I shipped my stock to Europe, but after staying there about four months I sold it so low that my loss, including the expense of the trip, left me stranded. My ardor for the slave has not in the least abated, and through the assistance of Gerritt Smith I have taken up land and am building a home over in North Elba, I am a sort of instructor to the colored folks of Smith's Wild Wood Colony.

"I have several colored men working for me in clearing up and planting, and they work well. I brought along some blooded cattle, pigs and hens, and finding many hard maples on the place, which produce sap for sirup, we feel quite independent. Two of our heifers have come in and we have plenty of milk, so I tell my wife if we have not crossed the Jordan into the land of milk and honey, we have crossed the Connecticut into the land of milk and maple molasses. Now I must be going in order to reach home before dark."

"Stay, Mr. Brown," I said, "why, we have not visited at all yet."

"I know, Mr. Thompson, but I came just to letyou know where we are, and if you will come to see us we will treat you to fried chicken, boiled potatoes, hot corn bread and fresh butter. Will you come?"

"Surely; how far is it, John?"

"About 25 miles up the mountain, and 10 miles down; but I am still good for four miles an hour. Say, Mrs. Thompson, set on something for me to eat, the very best you have, for the Bible says, 'Be not slow to entertain strangers for thereby you may be entertaining angels, unaware.'"

Soon after, early one morning, we saddled our horses and rode over to call on our new neighbors, when Brown would hear nothing but that we must stop with them overnight, and although we all visited, cooked, ate and slept in the same room, we did enjoy ourselves.

Before retiring, we all knelt in family worship, when Brown prayed so clear and fervent that no one could doubt his faith in the loving Father, who he believed was listening.

Ruth, Brown's eldest daughter, and her husband, Henry Thompson, were with them, and several of the younger children. Oliver, one of those killed at Harper's Ferry, recently, was then about 10 years old.

After supper, Brown and I climbed onto the great rock, beside where his body now lies, when he revealed to me his disconnected plans of venturing into a slave state and arming negroes who could fight for their own liberty.

"But," said I, "the law gives those Southerners the right to hold slaves."

"What law?" he exclaimed as he extended his lower jaw defiantly and repeated, "What law? Jesus defined laws as the will or mandate of Jehovah. If you call theconclusions of an assembly of men today which another assembly of men tomorrow can prove to be felonious, law, then John Brown is an outlaw; but if the Saviour's definition, 'Love the Lord, thy God, with all thy mind and soul, and thy neighbor as thyself,' is law, then John Brown is a law-abiding citizen, and will, if needs be, die for those who are in bondage, who have committed no crime."

Then raising his tall form and moving slowly to and fro in the moonlight on the great rock, he continued in a soft tone.

"God calls every man and woman to duty and requires a response according to their individual ability. I feel that I have had a call to open the gate of freedom to the slaves in this, Columbia. This call is not a direct communication from God, but more in the line of duty. I am somehow impressed that I am the man to answer this call, for, when I pray for guidance, the echo seems to come back, 'Your strength is sufficient.' When you and I were boys, Dan, we read of famous persons whose characters glittered before us, but we somehow overlooked the fact that duty and praise do not travel hand in hand, but rather, that duty treads the thorny way and fame creeps softly after.

"Not only is this God's law, but it coincides with experience. Disappointment mingled with failure seems to be the earthly lot of man, and yet it is not failure. When the morn of eternity dawns, and you and I shall stand to be judged according to our past records, what will be more glorious than that we meet failure in trying to accomplish good? I know that slavery is a sin, and, if needs be, I will die for the cause."

Of course, I saw Brown occasionally during the nextnine years, but I have no time this evening to relate his wildcat crusades in Kansas and Missouri, so we will pass over to the closing days of his life.

Oliver, Brown's youngest son, grew up on the North Elba farm, and through him I was kept informed concerning Brown's border free-booters until Brown came and took him to the Kennedy Farm near Harper's Ferry.

Anna, Brown's oldest daughter by his second wife, returned from Maryland about the last of October, 1859, when at her father's request she sent for me and gave me all the particulars concerning their rendezvous at the Kennedy Farm and their contemplated raid on Hall's Rifle Works at Harper's Ferry.

The next day, after promising my pets, my wife and Vida, that I would not join the mutineers, as Vida liked to call them, I left for Washington, and was soon in consultation with John Brown in the attic of the little house on the Kennedy Farm, where Anna had, as Brown said, acted as his watchdog, entertaining and detaining all strangers until he or his men could disperse or prepare.

I soon discovered that his attitude toward universal freedom had not abated, and that all his men, including three sons, had become much like him, as, at the prayer meeting in the little church nearby and the family altar, they often chimed in "Amen." As I think of them now I can truthfully say I never saw a band of men more Christianized in their expressions than those, for John had instilled into their minds his theory that the world was to be benefited by the struggle they were about to begin.

One day Oliver, his father and I walked down to Harper's Ferry, and while returning in the evening, Oliver and I pressed him for an explanation of the course he would pursue when he had taken possession of the arms at the Rifle Works, as the slaves would be useless at first, but he had none—he seemed to rely implicitly upon God and the Northern abolitionists to see him through.

Suddenly stopping us under the dark shadowy trees, and laying one hand on Oliver's shoulder and the other on mine, he said low and earnestly: "I do not know where I shall be when that beautiful moon has made its journey around this world once more, but one thing I do know and that is this: through my ceaseless efforts I have corralled the slave holders until now I have them in a trap. If my efforts are not impeded the slave will eventually free himself. If they are, and I am destroyed, the North, through sympathy for me and justice to the slave, will continue my cause until the bondmen are free. So you see I have them in a trap, but my aim is to avoid a bloody war, for the families in the South are as dear to me as those in the North, but slavery is a sin and must cease. Soon this generation will be passed, other men our lands will till and other men our streets will fill. When we are all gone the South as well as the North will speak kindly of him who dared to oppose his country's unjust laws."

All of Brown's men as well as myself considered the Harper's Ferry raid an unwise move, but to Brown, human life seemed a secondary matter, as compared to the continuation of national sin.

The last evening I stayed at the Kennedy Farm. After a supper of corn cake and molasses, Stephens and Tidd, who had melodious voices, sang "All the Dear Folks at Home Have Gone" and "Faded Flowers." Their voicesechoing softly down the glens where the tree of freedom was about to appear rooted and nourished in the blood of those brave helpless invaders. Oliver Brown, noticing my emotion, gave me a friendly slap on the shoulder, saying, "Now we will all join in with father, 'Nearer my God to Thee,'" which we did before kneeling together for the last time at that strange family altar.

When I left for the North next day, the understanding was that the raid would not take place until about November 1st, but condition made it expedient for them to move at once, which they did.

I arrived home the 17th of October, and after supper I saddled the horses, when my wife, Vida and myself ran up the mountains at a spirited canter, arriving at the Brown Farm in the dark. In the small frame house we found his wife, Mary, and three of his daughters, Anna, Sarah and Ellen; Mary, the wife of Oliver; Henry and Ruth Thompson and several neighbors.

All listened in silence, while I related the incidents of my visit at the Kennedy Farm, but, of course, none of us knew that Brown had already taken possession of Harper's Ferry, that Oliver and Watson had been killed, and that the old man was holding out so grimly in the engine house.

About ten days later the exaggerated telegrams concerning Harper's Ferry were afloat which set us all agog, but not until Friday the 21st did we get a copy of the New York Times, of the 18th, which I took up to the Elba home, and we all listened while Annie read it through, then for several moments all remained silent, as we thought father and all were dead.

Later we learned that the father was alive, but Watsonand Oliver were dead, and that Owen was missing, which was considered equivalent to being dead.

John Brown's trial ended October 21st. On November 2d he was sentenced to be hanged, which execution was carried out December 2, 1859.

Of those missing, Cook and Haslet were captured, and we took it for granted that Owen and the other three for whom there was a reward offered had been killed at the Ferry, but not reported.

THE DEAD APPEARNear the time set for the execution of Mr. Brown we were all nervous, especially our Vida and Sarah Brown; they were about ready to fly, and what happened, Vida must tell it herself."Oh, no, papa; you're telling the story; keep right on."Well, as I have said, we knew that the three Brown boys, Watson, Owen and Oliver, were dead and the father was to be executed December 2d, and we were running back and forth to the Elba Farm all the time, trying to help the women to bear up under this trying ordeal.One dark evening, the last of November, two neighboring girls came in and stayed until after 10 o'clock, when Vida and my wife accompanied them to the gate. When she returned, as we were sitting before the fire in this big fireplace, a soft rap came on the door, which we seldom use, and as I rose up Vida said: "That is Flossy, let me go."The door being in the entry, from where we sat Mary and I could not see Vida when she opened it, but listened if we might recognize the voice. The voice being inaudible, I started to go just as Vida uttered a low moan, staggered backwards to where I could see her, and fell in a dead faint.I sprang to the open door and called out, but could see nor hear no one. Then I closed and locked it, and Mary brought the camphor, but we could not bring her back, so as to tell whom she had seen for a long time.When she recovered she said it was one of the Browns, but she thought he was dead. I instantly decided it was John Brown, who had escaped from Charlestown jail, which was a feasible conclusion, as all the news we were receiving in the Adirondacks was nearly a week old and unreliable.Rushing out I ran down into the road, calling John by name, when I heard a voice near the house, and turning back, discovered it was Owen Brown, who had been reported missing, and we supposed he was dead.When in out of the cold and before the big fireplace with Mary washing his hands and face, Vida trying to untangle his unkempt hair and I getting off his shoes, which had not been removed in weeks, he covered his face with his hands and wept, but did not speak.After supper he listened to our reports from Harper's Ferry and North Elba as we had gained them, and then inquired if I thought it was imprudent for him to try to visit those at home, to which I assured him that he would be more safe in Washington than he was in the Adirondacks."Then," said he, "it is better that they never know you have seen me." Then turning to Vida said: "You can keep a secret?" Vida put her hand on his head saying, "Try me and see."It was soon arranged that Mary should spend the next day cleaning and fixing his clothes, Vida would run Fleet Foot Jim up to the Elba Farm and without revealing anything bring back all the news, while I was to borrow what money he might require, and the following night he and I were to run, on saddle, to Robert Doan, a staunch abolitionist, from which place he would make his way to his brother at Dorsett, Ohio.

Near the time set for the execution of Mr. Brown we were all nervous, especially our Vida and Sarah Brown; they were about ready to fly, and what happened, Vida must tell it herself.

"Oh, no, papa; you're telling the story; keep right on."

Well, as I have said, we knew that the three Brown boys, Watson, Owen and Oliver, were dead and the father was to be executed December 2d, and we were running back and forth to the Elba Farm all the time, trying to help the women to bear up under this trying ordeal.

One dark evening, the last of November, two neighboring girls came in and stayed until after 10 o'clock, when Vida and my wife accompanied them to the gate. When she returned, as we were sitting before the fire in this big fireplace, a soft rap came on the door, which we seldom use, and as I rose up Vida said: "That is Flossy, let me go."

The door being in the entry, from where we sat Mary and I could not see Vida when she opened it, but listened if we might recognize the voice. The voice being inaudible, I started to go just as Vida uttered a low moan, staggered backwards to where I could see her, and fell in a dead faint.

I sprang to the open door and called out, but could see nor hear no one. Then I closed and locked it, and Mary brought the camphor, but we could not bring her back, so as to tell whom she had seen for a long time.When she recovered she said it was one of the Browns, but she thought he was dead. I instantly decided it was John Brown, who had escaped from Charlestown jail, which was a feasible conclusion, as all the news we were receiving in the Adirondacks was nearly a week old and unreliable.

Rushing out I ran down into the road, calling John by name, when I heard a voice near the house, and turning back, discovered it was Owen Brown, who had been reported missing, and we supposed he was dead.

When in out of the cold and before the big fireplace with Mary washing his hands and face, Vida trying to untangle his unkempt hair and I getting off his shoes, which had not been removed in weeks, he covered his face with his hands and wept, but did not speak.

After supper he listened to our reports from Harper's Ferry and North Elba as we had gained them, and then inquired if I thought it was imprudent for him to try to visit those at home, to which I assured him that he would be more safe in Washington than he was in the Adirondacks.

"Then," said he, "it is better that they never know you have seen me." Then turning to Vida said: "You can keep a secret?" Vida put her hand on his head saying, "Try me and see."

It was soon arranged that Mary should spend the next day cleaning and fixing his clothes, Vida would run Fleet Foot Jim up to the Elba Farm and without revealing anything bring back all the news, while I was to borrow what money he might require, and the following night he and I were to run, on saddle, to Robert Doan, a staunch abolitionist, from which place he would make his way to his brother at Dorsett, Ohio.

VIDA'S DARING EXPLOITWe were unable to get Owen ready for the night ride until the second evening, when Vida declared her intention to accompany us as far as Jobe's Hill, seventeen miles down the mountain. "For," said she, "when Mr. Brown is clear from the Adirondack region, he can make his way in comparative safety to Utica, or if he is going to Ohio, he can follow the lake shore to Rochester. Now do not say no, Papa, for I am not afraid; they will never catch Old Jim while I am on his back. Besides, a lady riding with two men might fool even a shrewd detective, if such a thing might be that any of our mountain greenhorns have turned detectives for the sake of the reward which is out for Owen.""Why, Vida," said Owen."Please do not object, Mr. Brown. I am an Adirondack lassie who used to go barefoot in summer, and I know as much about these backwood aspirants as anyone.""Now, my dear child," I said."Papa," she continued, "will you, for once, allow your pet to have her own way? If you should be caught, think of the consequences; and you, Mamma and I would be ashamed to hold up our heads in church. Now, Mamma, will you take my side?""You know, Papa," said Mrs. Thompson, "that all the girls are accustomed to—""All right—all right," I said, for I felt that Vida's plan was sensible.i143ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS.VIDA THOMPSON ON HER WILD MIDNIGHT RIDE.At 10 o'clock, when we went out to saddle the horses, we were startled by two strangers standing near the gate, but soon learned they were wood choppers from the timberlands farther up the mountain, who had become confused, thinking they might be on the wrong road.Fleet Foot Jim, who was always proud when my wife or Vida was on his back, pranced, nibbled his bit, paced and cantered until Vida patted his neck and talked baby talk to him, when he steadied down and we went on at a brisk trot, seldom speaking until we reached Jobe's Hill, where Vida kissed me again, bidding me not to worry, shook hands good-bye with Owen and she was off on a spirited run through the midnight gloom.Brown and I listened to the klick of the horse's feet as they made the turn down through the dark timber valley, then ascending the hill the klicking grew fainter until they passed over the brow of the hill, when it ceased altogether."Listen," said I to Brown, "the long wooden bridge we came over is not more than two miles away," and as we waited the rumbling thunder from old Jim's heels on the bridge assured us that Vida's lonely midnight ride up the Adirondack Mountains would soon be over, and so it was, for she left the hemlock grove on Jobe's Hill at just 11:30 and bounced into her waiting mother's arms at home at 12:15, making the 17 miles in 45 minutes, which she always refers to as her glorious midnight ride.

We were unable to get Owen ready for the night ride until the second evening, when Vida declared her intention to accompany us as far as Jobe's Hill, seventeen miles down the mountain. "For," said she, "when Mr. Brown is clear from the Adirondack region, he can make his way in comparative safety to Utica, or if he is going to Ohio, he can follow the lake shore to Rochester. Now do not say no, Papa, for I am not afraid; they will never catch Old Jim while I am on his back. Besides, a lady riding with two men might fool even a shrewd detective, if such a thing might be that any of our mountain greenhorns have turned detectives for the sake of the reward which is out for Owen."

"Why, Vida," said Owen.

"Please do not object, Mr. Brown. I am an Adirondack lassie who used to go barefoot in summer, and I know as much about these backwood aspirants as anyone."

"Now, my dear child," I said.

"Papa," she continued, "will you, for once, allow your pet to have her own way? If you should be caught, think of the consequences; and you, Mamma and I would be ashamed to hold up our heads in church. Now, Mamma, will you take my side?"

"You know, Papa," said Mrs. Thompson, "that all the girls are accustomed to—"

"All right—all right," I said, for I felt that Vida's plan was sensible.

i143

ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS.VIDA THOMPSON ON HER WILD MIDNIGHT RIDE.

ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS.VIDA THOMPSON ON HER WILD MIDNIGHT RIDE.

ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS.VIDA THOMPSON ON HER WILD MIDNIGHT RIDE.

At 10 o'clock, when we went out to saddle the horses, we were startled by two strangers standing near the gate, but soon learned they were wood choppers from the timberlands farther up the mountain, who had become confused, thinking they might be on the wrong road.

Fleet Foot Jim, who was always proud when my wife or Vida was on his back, pranced, nibbled his bit, paced and cantered until Vida patted his neck and talked baby talk to him, when he steadied down and we went on at a brisk trot, seldom speaking until we reached Jobe's Hill, where Vida kissed me again, bidding me not to worry, shook hands good-bye with Owen and she was off on a spirited run through the midnight gloom.

Brown and I listened to the klick of the horse's feet as they made the turn down through the dark timber valley, then ascending the hill the klicking grew fainter until they passed over the brow of the hill, when it ceased altogether.

"Listen," said I to Brown, "the long wooden bridge we came over is not more than two miles away," and as we waited the rumbling thunder from old Jim's heels on the bridge assured us that Vida's lonely midnight ride up the Adirondack Mountains would soon be over, and so it was, for she left the hemlock grove on Jobe's Hill at just 11:30 and bounced into her waiting mother's arms at home at 12:15, making the 17 miles in 45 minutes, which she always refers to as her glorious midnight ride.

OWEN BROWN'S STORY"Soon after you left us at the Kennedy Farm we were startled by the rumor that the authorities were about to come down upon us, so we decided to seize the arsenal Sunday night."Father routed us out earlier than usual for our family worship on Sunday morning, and all of us knelt together for the last time."Now Oliver and Watson are dead, father is to be hanged tomorrow, I am a fugitive with a large reward over me and most of the others are either dead or soon will be."We left Kennedy Farm at dusk Sunday, October 16, 1859. In our party there were, besides father; Watson, Oliver and I, Marriam, the two Coppic boys, Cook, Tidd, Kagi, Taylor, Bill Thompson, Hazlett, Copeland, Leary, Greene, Anderson and several other men."Father rode in the wagon and the others walked two by two, all but Marriam, Cook, Barclay, Coppic and myself, who were left to guard the arms and other effects until we heard from the raid."Tidd came out to us in the morning stating that the battle was going on fiercely and that our men were being hemmed in on all sides. Then he reported that more than fifty had been killed, the Mayor of Harper's Ferry had been shot, and Watson and Oliver were dead; so, upon this report we decided to flee from the scene and leave all behind."We hastily ate and fixed up as much lunch as we could carry, when Marriam, Coppic, Cook, Tidd and myself ran across the country to Maryland Heights, where we could view the scene but could not help."At first we saw no troops, but hundreds of men from behind trees, rocks and buildings firing at our men, who, as yet, held the town. We could see father, with sword in hand, walking about apparently encouraging the men."Soon we saw a squad of more than a hundred soldiers leave the bridge and march down the street towards father and his few men, and could see father begin preparing for the onslaught."When they were about two hundred feet distant father apparently gave the word to fire, and it was kept up until two of our men and more than twenty of their troop lay dead in the street, while their live ones retreated in confusion to the covered bridge from whence they came."Truly it was a strange sight to see father, an old man, with a handful of mountaineers holding the town of Harper's Ferry against that company of Maryland regulars, besides receiving an occasional shot from behind buildings or other places of safety. He was facing odds of more than fifty to one, who, not knowing what father's re-enforcements might be, were really panic stricken."Through continuous firing, one after another of our few men were shot down, until father abandoned the arsenal and seemed to be barricading the engine house with his few men, probably not more than three or four besides himself."Colonel Robert E. Lee, with a company of United States Marines, appeared just before dark but did notattempt to capture the enemy's stronghold in the engine house, possibly because he had heard the rumor that father had three or four thousand men in the mountains waiting his command."Knowing that anything more on our part to help father would virtually be suicide, we gathered up our effects and started on our night tramp through the Blue Ridge Mountains in a northwesterly direction."We traveled in the roads strung out about ten rods apart, myself in advance, so when I met anyone I would engage him in conversation until the other boys were concealed from the view of the road. When passing villages we climbed the fences and ran around."Soon our food was ear corn, which we pillaged from the farmers. This we could not pop or roast, as we dare not build a fire. We could travel in the rain nights, but we could not sleep days when it was wet and cold, and we suffered terribly. After several days suffering, Cook proposed to venture into the town for food, to which Tidd strongly objected and I often had my hands full trying to quiet their quarrels."About the sixth day out we slept on a mountain which overlooked Ole Forge, near Chambersburg, Pa., where Cook was determined to go down for food, which he did, and never returned, and as you know, was captured and will soon share the fate of others at Charlestown."Marriam was now so weak that he could go no further, and I at a great risk, got him down to Chambersburg, where he boarded a train without detection. Then we were but three.""Fearing that Cook might be forced to reveal our whereabouts and intentions, we traveled all that night back towards the hill from whence we came, making ourcourse as zigzag as possible, so detectives would be unable to design our intentions or lay in wait for us."The third day after Cook's capture, an old lady hunting nuts in the woods came spank upon us, while we were sleeping in the sun. We were still near Chambersburg and from what she had heard she knew who we were, and told us so. To kill her would be wrong, to let her go back and report would be dangerous; but she soon put us at ease by telling about her abolition friends in Massachusetts and how her son, with whom she lived, and all her neighbors would help us on the way."We trusted her and at dark we found ourselves in her son's home eating chicken-pie and drinking hot coffee, which we had not partaken of in ten days. Soon another sympathizer came in and the two men arranged to take us on our journey as far as they could before morning."When we were small, father used to tell us children about the angels and I formed the idea that they were sweet, lovely and looked beautiful, but oh, Mr. Thompson, that dear old lady, I wish you could have seen her just as she looked to me that night, stepping around so softly to make us comfortable. Why, Thompson, she seemed so handsome, while looking through my tears I actually think she might have been an angel which God sent to comfort us. When we were ready to start, she put her arm around each of our necks and kissed us, saying, 'We will play that I am your mother, just for tonight.'"Acting on our host's guarantee, we rode boldly down through Chambersburg, where Cook had just been taken, but all was well. At break of day, when about forty-five miles away, we jumped out with our luggage, eight loavesof bread and part of a boiled ham, and fled into the woods."Now we found ourselves among the Quakers, who fed and protected us, and in a few days we separated, I working my way to you, and here I am tonight."Father taught his followers that the move on Harper's Ferry would precipitate conditions which would free the slaves. If, as we believe, God was leading him, it surely will, for dark as it appears to us today, it may be all right when viewed by the coming generations."Then in a voice, just like old John Brown himself, Owen softly sang a verse of the hymn, "God Moves in a Mysterious Way His Wonders to Perform." We rode a little way in silence and again he struck up:"Let us love one another as long as we stayWhere storm after storm rises dark o'er the way."i151NEAR JOHN BROWN'S ADIRONDACK HOME, 1911.

"Soon after you left us at the Kennedy Farm we were startled by the rumor that the authorities were about to come down upon us, so we decided to seize the arsenal Sunday night.

"Father routed us out earlier than usual for our family worship on Sunday morning, and all of us knelt together for the last time.

"Now Oliver and Watson are dead, father is to be hanged tomorrow, I am a fugitive with a large reward over me and most of the others are either dead or soon will be.

"We left Kennedy Farm at dusk Sunday, October 16, 1859. In our party there were, besides father; Watson, Oliver and I, Marriam, the two Coppic boys, Cook, Tidd, Kagi, Taylor, Bill Thompson, Hazlett, Copeland, Leary, Greene, Anderson and several other men.

"Father rode in the wagon and the others walked two by two, all but Marriam, Cook, Barclay, Coppic and myself, who were left to guard the arms and other effects until we heard from the raid.

"Tidd came out to us in the morning stating that the battle was going on fiercely and that our men were being hemmed in on all sides. Then he reported that more than fifty had been killed, the Mayor of Harper's Ferry had been shot, and Watson and Oliver were dead; so, upon this report we decided to flee from the scene and leave all behind.

"We hastily ate and fixed up as much lunch as we could carry, when Marriam, Coppic, Cook, Tidd and myself ran across the country to Maryland Heights, where we could view the scene but could not help.

"At first we saw no troops, but hundreds of men from behind trees, rocks and buildings firing at our men, who, as yet, held the town. We could see father, with sword in hand, walking about apparently encouraging the men.

"Soon we saw a squad of more than a hundred soldiers leave the bridge and march down the street towards father and his few men, and could see father begin preparing for the onslaught.

"When they were about two hundred feet distant father apparently gave the word to fire, and it was kept up until two of our men and more than twenty of their troop lay dead in the street, while their live ones retreated in confusion to the covered bridge from whence they came.

"Truly it was a strange sight to see father, an old man, with a handful of mountaineers holding the town of Harper's Ferry against that company of Maryland regulars, besides receiving an occasional shot from behind buildings or other places of safety. He was facing odds of more than fifty to one, who, not knowing what father's re-enforcements might be, were really panic stricken.

"Through continuous firing, one after another of our few men were shot down, until father abandoned the arsenal and seemed to be barricading the engine house with his few men, probably not more than three or four besides himself.

"Colonel Robert E. Lee, with a company of United States Marines, appeared just before dark but did notattempt to capture the enemy's stronghold in the engine house, possibly because he had heard the rumor that father had three or four thousand men in the mountains waiting his command.

"Knowing that anything more on our part to help father would virtually be suicide, we gathered up our effects and started on our night tramp through the Blue Ridge Mountains in a northwesterly direction.

"We traveled in the roads strung out about ten rods apart, myself in advance, so when I met anyone I would engage him in conversation until the other boys were concealed from the view of the road. When passing villages we climbed the fences and ran around.

"Soon our food was ear corn, which we pillaged from the farmers. This we could not pop or roast, as we dare not build a fire. We could travel in the rain nights, but we could not sleep days when it was wet and cold, and we suffered terribly. After several days suffering, Cook proposed to venture into the town for food, to which Tidd strongly objected and I often had my hands full trying to quiet their quarrels.

"About the sixth day out we slept on a mountain which overlooked Ole Forge, near Chambersburg, Pa., where Cook was determined to go down for food, which he did, and never returned, and as you know, was captured and will soon share the fate of others at Charlestown.

"Marriam was now so weak that he could go no further, and I at a great risk, got him down to Chambersburg, where he boarded a train without detection. Then we were but three."

"Fearing that Cook might be forced to reveal our whereabouts and intentions, we traveled all that night back towards the hill from whence we came, making ourcourse as zigzag as possible, so detectives would be unable to design our intentions or lay in wait for us.

"The third day after Cook's capture, an old lady hunting nuts in the woods came spank upon us, while we were sleeping in the sun. We were still near Chambersburg and from what she had heard she knew who we were, and told us so. To kill her would be wrong, to let her go back and report would be dangerous; but she soon put us at ease by telling about her abolition friends in Massachusetts and how her son, with whom she lived, and all her neighbors would help us on the way.

"We trusted her and at dark we found ourselves in her son's home eating chicken-pie and drinking hot coffee, which we had not partaken of in ten days. Soon another sympathizer came in and the two men arranged to take us on our journey as far as they could before morning.

"When we were small, father used to tell us children about the angels and I formed the idea that they were sweet, lovely and looked beautiful, but oh, Mr. Thompson, that dear old lady, I wish you could have seen her just as she looked to me that night, stepping around so softly to make us comfortable. Why, Thompson, she seemed so handsome, while looking through my tears I actually think she might have been an angel which God sent to comfort us. When we were ready to start, she put her arm around each of our necks and kissed us, saying, 'We will play that I am your mother, just for tonight.'

"Acting on our host's guarantee, we rode boldly down through Chambersburg, where Cook had just been taken, but all was well. At break of day, when about forty-five miles away, we jumped out with our luggage, eight loavesof bread and part of a boiled ham, and fled into the woods.

"Now we found ourselves among the Quakers, who fed and protected us, and in a few days we separated, I working my way to you, and here I am tonight.

"Father taught his followers that the move on Harper's Ferry would precipitate conditions which would free the slaves. If, as we believe, God was leading him, it surely will, for dark as it appears to us today, it may be all right when viewed by the coming generations."

Then in a voice, just like old John Brown himself, Owen softly sang a verse of the hymn, "God Moves in a Mysterious Way His Wonders to Perform." We rode a little way in silence and again he struck up:

"Let us love one another as long as we stayWhere storm after storm rises dark o'er the way."

i151

NEAR JOHN BROWN'S ADIRONDACK HOME, 1911.

NEAR JOHN BROWN'S ADIRONDACK HOME, 1911.

NEAR JOHN BROWN'S ADIRONDACK HOME, 1911.

AFTER THE MIST HAD CLEARED AWAYForty-six years have passed since the sixteen year old Vida played her part so well in the strange drama of freedom's birth, and now, in an automobile tour to the coast of Maine with my wife, Mary Prickett, and our sixteen year old Vida, who to me, is a veritable imprint of the afore-characterized Vida Thompson. I again travel the winding roads of the old Adirondack Mountains.We visit the John Brown farm, sit in his easy chair, and climb the great rock which silently stands sentinel where, in turn, the cold winter's blasts in their wild midnight ride howl weirdly, and the sweet spring mornings awaken the forest song birds who shy their nests among the wild flowers near the grace of the old Hero—John Brown.The Browns are gone from North Elba. New York State has secured possession of the farm and erected a fitting monument to the memory of John Brown. When the old home is gone, and the monument has been replaced, the great rock will stand there just as Brown found it, seeming to say, "I alone will stay and guard his long repose."Strangers now live in the Thompson home, the evergreen on Jobe's Hill is seen no more, the long wooden bridge over which Old Jim thundered out the distant echo as he hastened the fair Vida through the mountains, has been replaced and each fair day, as the evening sun nears Ontario's restless waves, it kisses a fond adieu tothe little cemetery where Mr. and Mrs. Thompson sleep, while a little child smoothes Grandma Vida's silver locks on yonder's distant shore where the grand old Pacific ebbs and flows as time rolls on.i155YANKEE HORSEMEN.LEFT TO RIGHT, UPPER. PERRIN, PARKHOUSE, WILSON, MERRICK, SLATER.LEFT TO RIGHT, LOWER. JONES, WESTCOTT, COLLINS, GORDON, SHERMAN.

Forty-six years have passed since the sixteen year old Vida played her part so well in the strange drama of freedom's birth, and now, in an automobile tour to the coast of Maine with my wife, Mary Prickett, and our sixteen year old Vida, who to me, is a veritable imprint of the afore-characterized Vida Thompson. I again travel the winding roads of the old Adirondack Mountains.

We visit the John Brown farm, sit in his easy chair, and climb the great rock which silently stands sentinel where, in turn, the cold winter's blasts in their wild midnight ride howl weirdly, and the sweet spring mornings awaken the forest song birds who shy their nests among the wild flowers near the grace of the old Hero—John Brown.

The Browns are gone from North Elba. New York State has secured possession of the farm and erected a fitting monument to the memory of John Brown. When the old home is gone, and the monument has been replaced, the great rock will stand there just as Brown found it, seeming to say, "I alone will stay and guard his long repose."

Strangers now live in the Thompson home, the evergreen on Jobe's Hill is seen no more, the long wooden bridge over which Old Jim thundered out the distant echo as he hastened the fair Vida through the mountains, has been replaced and each fair day, as the evening sun nears Ontario's restless waves, it kisses a fond adieu tothe little cemetery where Mr. and Mrs. Thompson sleep, while a little child smoothes Grandma Vida's silver locks on yonder's distant shore where the grand old Pacific ebbs and flows as time rolls on.

i155

YANKEE HORSEMEN.LEFT TO RIGHT, UPPER. PERRIN, PARKHOUSE, WILSON, MERRICK, SLATER.LEFT TO RIGHT, LOWER. JONES, WESTCOTT, COLLINS, GORDON, SHERMAN.

YANKEE HORSEMEN.LEFT TO RIGHT, UPPER. PERRIN, PARKHOUSE, WILSON, MERRICK, SLATER.LEFT TO RIGHT, LOWER. JONES, WESTCOTT, COLLINS, GORDON, SHERMAN.

YANKEE HORSEMEN.LEFT TO RIGHT, UPPER. PERRIN, PARKHOUSE, WILSON, MERRICK, SLATER.LEFT TO RIGHT, LOWER. JONES, WESTCOTT, COLLINS, GORDON, SHERMAN.

YANKEE HORSEMEN GO WESTThe following year, 1865, it appears Gordon and I were not satisfied to let well enough alone, so we gave up our lucrative business for something more leisurely, by going into Batavia, New York, as fruit dealers. We had a stack of money and pitched right in, buying up whole orchards and paying approximately 40 per cent down, and when apples declined from $8.00 to $5.00 per barrel we had hardly enough money left to get out of town with, but our brother, Collins, loaned us all we needed and we struck out again at our old business, undaunted, as though nothing had happened.The next year, 1866, we three brothers, with our wives, and all our teams hung out for the winter at Cleveland, Ohio.Collins and Martha.Merrick and Mary.Gordon and Amanda.In the spring, 1867, with about fifty teams, we scattered over the south and west planning a rendezvous on the Mississippi River, where we all grouped for about three months. Our evenings of sport are better remembered than imagined. We had expanded our business until there were nearly 100 of us, playing tricks on each other, wrestling, lifting, swimming, running horses, telling stories, singing songs, etc.One of our men, a hostler, named Kelly, made an impromptu speech one evening, which was comical, butwithout the surroundings could not be appreciated. Ramson Young started an old-time school play of snapping the whip. It consisted of a captain standing at his post and as many as were take hold of hands and when he gave the word, all start on a swing to run around him. Of course, the outer one must run faster and the trick was to all pull the outer or tail man off his feet and see him try to save himself from falling. They got Kelly on the end and when he came around the next man let go of his hand, his body got ahead of his legs and he ran among the tables and dishes and through the camp fire in his big bare feet, before he could stop, but did not catch on that it was intentional.Next evening the boys gathered again and when Kelly saw that he would be on the tail end, he let go, and stepping onto a stump said: "Gentlemen, I am a Hoosier, born in the State of Indiana, and an uneducated man, but you will never again get me on the tail end of that 'ere." I did not like to see Young impose on Kelly, so I embraced the first opportunity to even up matters. One evening while waiting in camp for supper, near Duluth, Kelly was exhibiting his new shotgun, when Young said to me: "I'm going to bet with Kelly he cannot hit my new hat at twenty paces, and you must load the gun, but put in no shot.""I will do nothing of the kind," I said."Yes, you will, Mr. Richardson; this is just for a joke.""I tell you I will have nothing to do with your tricks.""Kelly," he cried, "I will bet you a quarter that you cannot hit my new hat at twenty paces, and Mr. Richardson says he will load the gun.""All right," says Kelly, "Richardson is honest; I will trust him."I again refused, but when they both insisted I took the new gun and ammunition and when out of sight I put in, not only a good charge of powder, but a whole handful of buckshot, and when I delivered it, Young said to Kelly: "Suppose we make it fifty cents instead of a quarter?" "All right," said Kelly.By this time all the boys were excited, for they knew Kelly could hit the hat, and Young began betting five and ten cents each, with them, until he had nearly two dollars up and his new straw hat on stake.Young caught me smiling, and looked at a little scared as he whispered, "There is no shot in the gun?" to which I paid no attention. Now Kelly squared himself and took aim long and steady and then fired. Of course, blowing the new hat all to driblets.Young gave me one wicked glance and then stood around like a rooster in the rain, and when the joke got out he simply remarked, "If a man cannot trust a preacher, who can he trust?"We had a ministerial looking fellow with us, who gave his name as Wilson from New Jersey. He had worked for us but a few months when one morning three men came up and stopped one of our teams. Wilson, who was driving a front team, looked back, and, dropping his rein, ran for the woods, nearly a half mile distant, looking neither to the right or left until he disappeared into the bushes. Next day, going through a piece of woods, I heard Wilson's voice, "Is everything all right?" and when told that the men only wanted to buy a horse, he still suspected that he had seen one of them before.Although he was with us until near the end of our travels he never told us why he ran so fast.Of course, our lives were full of peculiar incidents. Mr. Young, who deputized me to load the gun, delighted in telling the fortunes of those who came around the camp fire in the evening, and it was rich to listen to him when he had a fellow and girl on the string, who were really serious.

The following year, 1865, it appears Gordon and I were not satisfied to let well enough alone, so we gave up our lucrative business for something more leisurely, by going into Batavia, New York, as fruit dealers. We had a stack of money and pitched right in, buying up whole orchards and paying approximately 40 per cent down, and when apples declined from $8.00 to $5.00 per barrel we had hardly enough money left to get out of town with, but our brother, Collins, loaned us all we needed and we struck out again at our old business, undaunted, as though nothing had happened.

The next year, 1866, we three brothers, with our wives, and all our teams hung out for the winter at Cleveland, Ohio.

Collins and Martha.Merrick and Mary.Gordon and Amanda.

In the spring, 1867, with about fifty teams, we scattered over the south and west planning a rendezvous on the Mississippi River, where we all grouped for about three months. Our evenings of sport are better remembered than imagined. We had expanded our business until there were nearly 100 of us, playing tricks on each other, wrestling, lifting, swimming, running horses, telling stories, singing songs, etc.

One of our men, a hostler, named Kelly, made an impromptu speech one evening, which was comical, butwithout the surroundings could not be appreciated. Ramson Young started an old-time school play of snapping the whip. It consisted of a captain standing at his post and as many as were take hold of hands and when he gave the word, all start on a swing to run around him. Of course, the outer one must run faster and the trick was to all pull the outer or tail man off his feet and see him try to save himself from falling. They got Kelly on the end and when he came around the next man let go of his hand, his body got ahead of his legs and he ran among the tables and dishes and through the camp fire in his big bare feet, before he could stop, but did not catch on that it was intentional.

Next evening the boys gathered again and when Kelly saw that he would be on the tail end, he let go, and stepping onto a stump said: "Gentlemen, I am a Hoosier, born in the State of Indiana, and an uneducated man, but you will never again get me on the tail end of that 'ere." I did not like to see Young impose on Kelly, so I embraced the first opportunity to even up matters. One evening while waiting in camp for supper, near Duluth, Kelly was exhibiting his new shotgun, when Young said to me: "I'm going to bet with Kelly he cannot hit my new hat at twenty paces, and you must load the gun, but put in no shot."

"I will do nothing of the kind," I said.

"Yes, you will, Mr. Richardson; this is just for a joke."

"I tell you I will have nothing to do with your tricks."

"Kelly," he cried, "I will bet you a quarter that you cannot hit my new hat at twenty paces, and Mr. Richardson says he will load the gun."

"All right," says Kelly, "Richardson is honest; I will trust him."

I again refused, but when they both insisted I took the new gun and ammunition and when out of sight I put in, not only a good charge of powder, but a whole handful of buckshot, and when I delivered it, Young said to Kelly: "Suppose we make it fifty cents instead of a quarter?" "All right," said Kelly.

By this time all the boys were excited, for they knew Kelly could hit the hat, and Young began betting five and ten cents each, with them, until he had nearly two dollars up and his new straw hat on stake.

Young caught me smiling, and looked at a little scared as he whispered, "There is no shot in the gun?" to which I paid no attention. Now Kelly squared himself and took aim long and steady and then fired. Of course, blowing the new hat all to driblets.

Young gave me one wicked glance and then stood around like a rooster in the rain, and when the joke got out he simply remarked, "If a man cannot trust a preacher, who can he trust?"

We had a ministerial looking fellow with us, who gave his name as Wilson from New Jersey. He had worked for us but a few months when one morning three men came up and stopped one of our teams. Wilson, who was driving a front team, looked back, and, dropping his rein, ran for the woods, nearly a half mile distant, looking neither to the right or left until he disappeared into the bushes. Next day, going through a piece of woods, I heard Wilson's voice, "Is everything all right?" and when told that the men only wanted to buy a horse, he still suspected that he had seen one of them before.Although he was with us until near the end of our travels he never told us why he ran so fast.

Of course, our lives were full of peculiar incidents. Mr. Young, who deputized me to load the gun, delighted in telling the fortunes of those who came around the camp fire in the evening, and it was rich to listen to him when he had a fellow and girl on the string, who were really serious.

Back to IndexNext