Village Life in America, 1852 – 1872, by Caroline Cowles Richards

June.—Cyrus W. Field called at our house to-day. He is making a trip through the States and stopped here a few hours because Grandmother is his aunt. He made her a present of a piece of the Atlantic cable about six inches long, which he had mounted for her. It is a very nice souvenir. He is a tall, fine looking man and very pleasant.

May 1858.—Several of us girls went up into the top of the new Court House to-day as far as the workmen would allow us. We got a splendid view of the lake and of all the country round. Abbie Clarke climbed up on a beam and recited part of Alexander Selkirk’s soliloquy:

“I’m monarch of all I survey,

My rights there are none to dispute:

From the center, all round to the sea,

I’m lord of the fowl and brute.”

I was standing on a block and she said I looked like “Patience on a monument smiling at Grief.” I am sure she could not be taken for “Grief.” She always has some quotation on her tongue’s end. We were down at Sucker Brook the other day and she picked her way out to a big stone in the middle of the stream and, standing on it, said, in the words of Rhoderick Dhu,

“Come one, come all, this rock shall fly

From its firm base, as soon as I.”

Just then the big stone tipped over and she had to wade ashore. She is not at all afraid of climbing and as we left the Court House she said she would like to go outside on the cupola and help Justice balance the scales.

A funny old man came to our house to-day as he wanted to deposit some money and reached the bank after it was closed. We were just sitting down to dinner so Grandfather asked him to stay and have “pot luck ” with us. He said that he was very much “obleeged ” and stayed and passed his plate a second time for more of our very fine “pot luck.” We had boiled beef and dumplings and I suppose he thought that was the name of the dish. He talked so queer we couldn’t help noticing it. He said he “heered” so and he was “afeered” and somebody was very “deef” and they “hadn’t ought to have done it” and “they should have went” and such things. Anna and I almost laughed but Grandmother looked at us with her eye and forefinger so we sobered down. She told us afterwards that there are many good people in the world whose verbs and nouns do not agree, and instead of laughing at them we should be sure that we always speak correctly ourselves. Very true. Dr Daggett was at the Seminary one day when we had public exercises and he told me afterwards that I said “sagac-ious” for “saga-cious” and Aunt Ann told me that I said “epi-tome” for “e-pito-me.” So “people that live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

Sunday. — Grandfather read his favorite parable this morning at prayers — the one about the wise man who built his house upon a rock and the foolish man who built upon the sand. He reads it good, just like a minister. He prays good, too, and I know his prayer by heart. He says, “Verily Thou art our Father, though Abraham be ignorant of us and Israel acknowledge us not,” and he always says, “Thine arm is not shortened that it cannot save, or Thine ear heavy that it cannot hear.” I am glad that I can remember it.

March.—There is a great deal said about spirits nowadays and a lot of us girls went into one of the recitation rooms after school to-night and had a spiritual seance. We sat around Mr Chubbuck’s table and put our hands on it and it moved around and stood on two legs and sometimes on one. I thought the girls helped it but they said they didn’t. We heard some loud raps, too, but they sounded very earthly to me. Eliza Burns, one of the boarders, told us if we would hold our breath we could pick up one of the girls from the floor and raise her up over our heads with one finger of each hand, if the girl held her breath too. We tried it with Anna and did it, but we had such hard work to keep from laughing I expected we would drop her. There is nothing very spirituelle about any of us. I told Grandmother and she said we reminded her of Jemima Wilkinson, who told all her followers that the world was to come to an end on a certain day and they should all be dressed in white and get up on the roofs of the houses and be prepared to ascend and meet the Lord in the air. I asked Grandmother what she said when nothing happened and she said she told them it was because they did not have faith enough. If they had, everything would have happened just as she said. Grandmother says that one day at a time has always been enough for her and that to-morrow will take care of the things of itself.

February 24, 1858.—The boarders at the Seminary had some tableaux last evening and invited a great many from the village. They were splendid. Mr Chubbuck was in nearly all of them. The most beautiful one was Abraham offering up Isaac. Mr Chubbuck was Abraham and Sarah Ripley was Isaac. After the tableaux they acted a charade. The word was “Masterpiece.” It was fine. After the audience got half way out of the chapel Mr Richards announced “The Belle of the Evening.” The curtain rose and every one rushed back, expecting to see a young lady dressed in the height of fashion, when immediately the Seminary bell rang! Mr Blessner’s scholars gave all the music and he stamped so, beating time, it almost drowned the music. Some one suggested a bread and milk poultice for his foot. Anna has been taking part in some private theatricals. The play is in contrast to “The Spirit of ’76” and the idea carried out is that the men should stay at home and rock the cradles and the women should take the rostrum. Grandmother was rather opposed to the idea, but every one wanted Anna to take the part of leading lady, so she consented. She even helped Anna make her bloomer suit and sewed on the braid for trimming on the skirt herself. She did not know that Anna’s opening sentence was, “How are you, sir? Cigar, please!” It was acted at Mrs John Bates’ house on Gibson Street and was a great success, but when they decided to repeat it another evening Grandmother told Anna she must choose between going on the stage and living with her Grandmother, so Anna gave it up and some one else took her part.

Christmas.—Grandfather and Grandmother do not care much about making Christmas presents. They say, when they were young no one observed Christmas or New Years, but they always kept Thanksgiving day. Our cousins, the Fields and Carrs, gave us several presents and Uncle Edward sent us a basket full from New York by express. Aunt Ann gave me one of the Lucy books and a Franconia story book and to Anna, “The Child’s Book on Repentance.” When Anna saw the title, she whispered to me and said if she had done anything she was sorry for she was willing to be forgiven. I am afraid she will never read hers but I will lend her mine. Miss Lucy Ellen Guernsey, of Rochester, gave me “Christmas Earnings” and wrote in it, “Carrie C. Richards with the love of the author.” I think that is very nice. Anna and I were chattering like two magpies to-day, and a man came in to talk to Grandfather on business. He told us in an undertone that children should be seen and not heard. After he had gone I saw Anna watching him a long time till he was only a speck in the distance and I asked her what she was doing. She said she was doing it because it was a sign if you watched persons out of sight you would never see them again. She does not seem to have a very forgiving spirit, but you can’t always tell.

Mr William Wood, the venerable philanthropist of whom Canandaigua has been justly proud for many years, is dead. I have preserved this poem, written by Mrs George Willson in his honour:

“Mr EDITOR—The following lines were written by a lady of this village, and have been heretofore published, but on reading in your last paper the interesting extract relating to the late William Wood, Esq., it was suggested that they be again published, not only for their merit, but also to keep alive the memory of one who has done so much to ornament our village.—H.”

When first on this stage of existence we come

Blind, deaf, puny, helpless, but not, alas, dumb,

What can please us, and soothe us, and make us sleep good?

To be rocked in a cradle;—and cradles are wood.

When older we grow, and we enter the schools

Where masters break rulers o’er boys who break rules,

What can curb and restrain and make laws understood

But the birch-twig and ferule?—and both are of wood.

When old age—second childhood, takes vigor away,

And we totter along toward our home in the clay,

What can aid us to stand as in manhood we stood

But our tried, trusty staff?—and the staff is of wood.

And when from this stage of existence we go,

And death drops the curtain on all scenes below,

In our coff1ns we rest, while for worms we are food,

And our last sleeping place, like our first, is of wood.

Then honor to wood ! fresh and strong may it grow,

‘Though winter has silvered its summit with snow;

Embowered in its shade long our village has stood;

She’d scarce be Canandaigua if stripped of her Wood.

Stanza added after the death of Mr Wood

The sad time is come; she is stript of her Wood,

‘Though the trees that he planted still stand where they stood,

Still with storms they can wrestle with arms stout and brave;

Still they wave o’er our dwellings—they droop o’er his grave!

Alas ! that the life of the cherished and good Is more frail and more brief than the trees of the wood!

September 1.—Anna and I have been in Litchfield, Conn., at Father’s school for boys. It is kept in the old Beecher house, where Dr Lyman Beecher lived. We went up into the attic, which is light and airy, where they say he used to write his famous sermons. James is one of the teachers and he came for us. We went to Farmington and saw all the Cowles families, as they are our cousins. Then we drove by the Charter Oak and saw all there is left of it. It was blown down last year but the stump is fenced around. In Hartford we visited Gallaudet’s Institution for the deaf and dumb and went to the historical rooms, where we saw some of George Washington’s clothes and his watch and his penknife, but we did not see his little hatchet. We stayed two weeks in New York and vicinity before we came home. Uncle Edward took us to Christie’s Minstrels and the Hippodrome, so we saw all the things we missed seeing when the circus was here in town. Grandmother seemed surprised when we told her, but she didn’t say much because she was so glad to have us at home again. Anna said we ought to bring a present to Grandfather and Grandmother, for she read one time about some children who went away and came back grown up and brought home “busts of the old philosophers for the sitting-room,” so as we saw some busts of George Washington and Benjamin Franklin in plaster of paris we bought them, for they look almost like marble and Grandfather and Grandmother like them. Speaking of busts reminds me of a conundrum I heard while I was gone. “How do we know that Poe’s Raven was a dissipated bird? Because he was all night on a bust.” Grandfather took us down to the bank to see how he had it made over while we were gone. We asked him why he had a beehive hanging out for a sign and he said, “Bees store their honey in the summer for winter use and men ought to store their money against a rainy day.” He has a swing door to the bank with “Push” on it. He said he saw a man studying it one day and finally looking up he spelled p-u-s-h, push (and pronounced it like mush). “What does that mean?” Grandfather showed him what it meant and he thought it was very convenient. He was about as thick-headed as the man who saw some snuffers and asked what they were for and when told to snuff the candle with, he immediately snuffed the candle with his fingers and put it in the snuffers and said, “Law sakes, how handy!” Grandmother really laughed when she read this in the paper.

September. — Mrs Martin, of Albany, is visiting Aunt Ann, and she brought Grandmother a fine fish that was caught in the Atlantic Ocean. We went over and asked her to come to dinner to-morrow and help eat it and she said if it did not rain pitchforks she would come, so I think we may expect her. Her granddaughter, Hattie Blanchard, has come here to go to the seminary and will live with Aunt Ann. She is a very pretty girl. Mary Field came over this morning and we went down street together. Grandfather went with us to Mr Nat Gorham’s store, as he is selling off at cost, and got Grandmother and me each a new pair of kid gloves. Hers are black and mine are green. Hers cost six shillings and mine cost five shillings and six pence; very cheap for such nice ones. Grandmother let Anna have six little girls here to supper to-night: Louisa Field, Hattie Paddock, Helen Coy, Martha Densmore, Emma Wheeler and Alice Jewett. We had a splendid supper and then we played cards. I do not mean regular cards, mercy no! Grandfather thinks those kind are contagious or outrageous or something dreadful and never keeps them in the house. Grandmother said they found a pack once, when the hired man’s room was cleaned, and they went into the fire pretty quick. The kind we played was just “Dr Busby,” and another “The Old Soldier and His Dog.” There are counters with them, and if you don’t have the card called for you have to pay one into the pool. It is real fun. They all said they had a very nice time, indeed, when they bade Grandmother good-night, and said: “Mrs Beals, you must let Carrie and Anna come and see us some time,” and she said she would. I think it is nice to have company.

August 8.—Grandfather has given me his whole set of Waverley novels and his whole set of Shakespeare’s plays, and has ordered Mr Jahn, the cabinetmaker, to make me a black walnut bookcase, with glass doors and three deep drawers underneath, with brass handles. He is so good. Anna says perhaps he thinks I am going to be married and go to housekeeping some day. Well, perhaps he does. Stranger things have happened. “Barkis is willin’,” and I always like to please Grandfather. I have just read David Copperfield and was so interested I could not leave it alone till I finished it.

Friday, July.—I have not kept a journal for two weeks because we have been away visiting. Anna and I had an invitation to go to Utica to visit Rev. and Mrs Brandigee. He is rector of Grace Episcopal church there and his wife used to belong to Father’s church in Morristown, N.J. Her name was Miss Condict. Rev. Mr Stowe was going to Hamilton College at Clinton, so he said he would take us to Utica. We had a lovely time. The corner stone of the church was laid while we were there and Bishop De Lancey came and stayed with us at Mr Brandigee’s. He is a very nice man and likes children. One morning they had muffins for breakfast and Anna asked if they were ragamuffins. Mr Brandigee said, “Yes, they are made of rags and brown paper,” but we knew he was just joking. When we came away Mrs Brandigee gave me a prayer book and Anna a vase, but she didn’t like it and said she should tell Mrs Brandigee she wanted a prayer book too, so I had to change with her. When we came home Mr Brandigee put us in care of the conductor. There was a fine soldier looking man in the car with us and we thought it was his wife with him. He wore a blue coat and brass buttons, and some one said his name was Custer and that he was a West Point cadet and belonged to the regular army. I told Anna she had better behave or he would see her, but she would go out and stand on the platform until the conductor told her not to. I pulled her dress and looked very stern at her and motioned toward Mr Custer, but it did not seem to have any impression on her. I saw Mr Custer smile once because my words had no effect. I was glad when we got to Canandaigua. I heard some one say that Dr Jewett was at the depot to take Mr Custer and his wife to his house, but I only saw Grandfather coming after us. He said, “Well, girls, you have been and you have got back,” but I could see that he was glad to have us at home again, even if we are “troublesome comforts,” as he sometimes says.

July 4.—Barnum’s circus was in town to-day and if Grandmother had not seen the pictures on the hand bills I think she would have let us go. She said it was all right to look at the creatures God had made but she did not think He ever intended that women should go only half dressed and stand up and ride on horses bare back, or jump through hoops in the air. So we could not go. We saw the street parade though and heard the band play and saw the men and women in a chariot, all dressed so fine, and we saw a big elephant and a little one and a camel with an awful hump on his back, and we could hear the lion roar in the cage, as they went by. It must have been nice to see them close to and probably we will some day.

June 2.—Abbie Clark wrote such a nice piece in my album to-day I am going to write it in my journal. Grandfather says he likes the sentiment as well as any in my book. This is it: “It has been said that the friendship of some people is like our shadow, keeping close by us while the sun shines, deserting us the moment we enter the shade, but think not such is the friendship of Abbie S. Clark.” Abbie and I took supper at Miss Mary Howell’s to-night to see Adele Ives. We had a lovely time.

Tuesday.—General Tom Thumb was in town to-day and everybody who wanted to see him could go to Bemis Hall. Twenty-five cents for old people, and 10 cents for children, but we could see him for nothing when he drove around town. He had a little carriage and two little bits of ponies and a little boy with a high silk hat on, for the driver. He sat inside the coach but we could see him looking out. We went to the hall in the afternoon and the man who brought him stood by him and looked like a giant and told us all about him. Then he asked Tom Thumb to make a speech and stood him upon the table. He told all the ladies he would give them a kiss if they would come up and buy his picture. Some of them did.