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 RBCOLLEOTIONS 7777, 
 
 OF TWO 
 
 NEW ENGLAND HOUSES. 
 
 BUILT 
 
 BY REV. JOSEPH WHEELER, OF WORCESTER. 
 
 A Paper kead before the Worcester Society of Antiquity on 
 November 3, 1903. 
 
 BY HENRY M. WHEELER, 
 
 WORCESTER, MASS. 
 
 WORCESTER, MASS.: 
 
 THE HAMILTON PRESS 
 
 1904 . 
 
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BUILT BY REV. JOSEPH WHEELER. 
 
 1785—1885. 
 
A NEW ENGLAND HOUSE ONE HUNDRED 
 YEARS AGO. 
 
 The house which has been selected as the basis for this 
 paper is represented by the photograph before you. That 
 was chosen because of my intimate knowledge of its char- 
 acteristics. I do not recall another house in the town 
 just like it. There were others and costlier having a 
 resemblance, but differing both in outside appearance 
 and internal arrangement and finish. The Salisbury 
 Mansion is one of them, but the similarity disappears on 
 close inspection. In place of the single central chimney 
 and narrow hall of the former, there are the several chim- 
 neys, with the centre and side halls of the latter. There 
 is an old house, formerly a tavern, on the main road to 
 Auburn, situated on a banking several feet above the 
 present traveled way, at one time owned by Eli Thayer, 
 at another by Prentice Brothers, which is of a similar 
 type. In Wilmington in this State, is a house, the re- 
 semblance to which is so marked, that, on seeing it for 
 the first time, I said to my wife, who was with me, "There 
 is our old house." It is beautifully situated at the junc- 
 tion of two roads, fronting a broad meadow and shaded 
 by large trees. It was formerly owned and occupied by 
 Wm. F. Harndon, the originator of the express business 
 in this State. It is in an excellent state of preservation 
 and will survive many more generations, if cared for as 
 it now is. There is another similar house on the road 
 from Ayer to Groton; still another between Concord and 
 Bedford ; and one in the latter town, the old Parson Stearns 
 Mansion. This is a well preserved and good specimen of 
 old Colonial architecture. It has recently passed from 
 
the possession of the family, after an ownership of a cen- 
 tury. 
 
 Rev. Samuel Stearns ministered acceptably to his flock 
 in Bedford from the time of his installation, April 27, 
 1796, till his death, December 26, 1834. He was gradu- 
 ated from Harvard College in 1794. He studied theology 
 with Rev. Jonathan French of Andover, and at the age of 
 twenty-seven he married Abigail, the daughter of Mr. 
 French, May 7, 1797. He was the son of Rev. Josiah and 
 his second wife, Sarah (Ruggles), of Epping, N. H. His 
 descent was from Isaac, the first immigrant, through five 
 generations. In the Shawshine Cemetery at Andover is a 
 gravestone bearing this inscription: " Peter, a Revolutionary 
 Soldier, freed slave of Rev. Josiah Stearns of Epping, 
 N. H., faithful hired servant of Rev. Samuel Stearns. 
 Born, 1750, died 1807." "A Good Christian." 
 
 Of the thirteen children of Samuel, eight daughters 
 and five sons, the most noted was Rev. William Augustus, 
 President of Amherst College from Nov. 22, 1854, till 
 his death, June 8, 1876. He was born March 17, 1805; 
 married first, Jan. 10, 1832, Rebecca Alden Fraser; he 
 married second, Aug. 27, 1857, Ohve Coit Gilbert. He 
 was graduated from Harvard College in the class of 1853, 
 of which Rev'd's Seth Sweetser and William H. Sanford 
 of this city were members. Dr. Sweetser remarked of 
 him that he left college as pure as when he entered it, 
 which cannot be said of every graduate. I think the 
 remark would be as applicable to Dr. Sweetser. Whoever 
 looked into the face of President Stearns when aUve, or 
 upon his picture since his death, cannot avoid the im- 
 pression that he was a clean, pure, good man. Though 
 of less marked intellectual ability than President JuHus 
 Hawley Seelye, his immediate successor from 1876 to 
 1890, the ablest of Amherst's Presidents, he administered 
 the college with ability and credit. His son, Fraser Au- 
 gustus, a young man of rare worth, adjutant of the 21st 
 
Reg., Mass. Vols., gave up his life a sacrifice to his country 
 in the Great Rebellion, at the taking of Newberne, N. C, 
 March 14, 1862, at the age of twenty-two. 
 
 Another son of Samuel was Rev. Ebenezer Sperry, a 
 distinguished educator, at the head of the Normal School 
 formerly located at West Newton, now at Framingham, 
 from 1849 to 1855; afterwards at the Female Academy, 
 Albany, N. Y.; and lastly Chancellor of the State Uni- 
 versity at Nashville, Tenn.; and Principal of the State 
 Normal School in the same place. 
 
 Mr. Stearns's predecessor at Bedford was Rev. Joseph 
 Penniman, from 1771 to 1793, an eccentric man, who 
 was dismissed from his pastorate in 1793 for his wine- 
 bibbing habits and other unministerial propensities. Many 
 of his expressions were droll and, when addressed to the 
 Divine Being, bordered on irreverence. In a time of 
 great drought his people requested him to pray for rain. 
 He prayed: "Vouchsafe that the bottles of Heaven may 
 be uncorked and their refreshing waters poured upon the 
 parched fields." Such an abundance of rain soon there- 
 after followed and of so long continuance, that his people 
 besought his prayers for its cessation, lest their crops 
 should be ruined. Whereupon he again prayed: "We 
 did ask, Lord! that thou wouldest uncork the bottles 
 of Heaven, but we sought not that thou shouldest throw 
 away the stopples." 
 
 At the funeral of Capt. John Wilson, who was killed 
 at the Concord fight, April 19, 1775, he prayed: "We 
 pray thee, Lord, to send the British Soldiers where 
 they will do some good, for Thou knowest that we have 
 no use for them about here." 
 
 In one of his visits to the town school, he offered prayer, 
 as was the custom, in which he said, "We pray thee, O 
 Lord, that these children may be well trained at home, 
 for if they are not, they will act like Sarpints when they 
 are abroad." 
 
6 
 
 His daughter Molly died August 21, 1778, and he placed 
 the following lines on her gravestone: — 
 
 "Ah! dear Polly, must your tender parents mourn 
 Their heavy loss, and bathe with tears your urn, 
 Since now no more to us you must return?" 
 
 On the death of his daughter Hannah, Dec. 22, 1790, 
 he wrote the following epitaph or apostrophe: — 
 
 "Ah I now no notice do you give 
 
 Where you are and how you live I 
 
 Whatl are you then bound by solemn fate 
 
 To keep the secret of your state? 
 
 Th' alarming voice you will hear, 
 
 When Christ, the Judge, shall appear, 
 
 Hannah 1 from the dark lonely vault, 
 
 Certainly soon and suddenly shall come 
 
 When Jesus shall claim the treasure from the tomb." 
 
 To resume our story — 
 
 Many of you remember this house of which we are 
 writing, situated on Main street, north of and adjoining 
 the Exchange Hotel, but none can recall the time when 
 the two noble horse chestnut trees before it stood in its 
 front yard enclosed in a white fence. A gate on the street 
 side opened on a walk bordered by grass plots and flower 
 beds, leading to the front door, and before it was a single 
 large stone step, at each end of which were iron scrapers, 
 common features of every house. The growth of the 
 town so encroached on this yard, year by year, that at 
 last the front of the house and the line of the street co- 
 incided. Before entering on a description of the house, 
 let us take a look at its surroundings. 
 
 April 28th, 1781, Rev. Joseph Wheeler of Harvard, 
 who had been appointed Register of Probate for Worcester 
 County, purchased of Nathaniel and Hannah Heywood 
 of Shrewsbury, for £200 gold or silver, a tract of land 
 situate in Worcester near the Court House, containing 
 240 rods, or an acre and a half. This land, a part of the 
 Ministerial lands, came down from John Chandler, through 
 
William Jennison, March 15, 1734-5, to Daniel Heywood; 
 from him, Nov. 11, 1760, to his son Abel; and in 17G9 
 to Nathaniel his son, by inheritance. The lot was 161 
 feet on the road; it ran back 600 feet and narrowed to 
 69 feet at the east end. Across the rear a brook ran, 
 which was divided into two channels by a long and narrow 
 island, on which grew fruit and shade trees, among which 
 was a large iron-pear tree, a fruit almost entirely unknown 
 to this generation. The eastern was the larger of the 
 two channels, which conveyed the greater part of the 
 waters of Mill, or Bimelek, brook, subsequently dignified 
 by the name of Blackstone river, in their tortuous course 
 through the town, after being liberated from the pond 
 a short distance above, where they had been detained 
 to furnish power for the Court Mills, in which Ruggles, 
 Nourse and Mason manufactured all kinds of agricultural 
 implements in after years. The other channel was a 
 ditch dug by Timothy Bigelow to convey the water from 
 his mill, a short distance above. In obtaining the right 
 he agreed to construct it nine feet wide, to stone up both 
 sides in a neat manner, to keep it clean and in repair and 
 to build a stone bridge across it. March 17, 1790, Thomas 
 Lynde grants to Abraham Lincoln right to the ditch or 
 canal which extends from said Lincoln's trip-hammer 
 through his land. Other abuttors granted similar rights. 
 To the north of this lot were those of Joseph Lynde 
 and Thomas Lynde, subsequently Judge Edward Bangs's, 
 of about the same depth as that of Mr. Wheeler's. The 
 lot bordering on the south was owned by Nathan Patch, 
 which he bought of Daniel Heywood May 10, 1783, on 
 which he erected the present Exchange Hotel. The street 
 in front of this estate was an ordinary country road, narrow 
 and bounded by stone walls and post and rail fences. I 
 remember when that portion of the road between Thomas 
 and Central streets was nearly impassable at certain seasons 
 of the year by reason of the depth of mud. From near 
 
School street to Exchange street there was quite a rise 
 in the grade, which has been cut down at the latter point 
 and filled in many feet at Thomas street. It was shaded 
 by large and handsome trees, forming an arch over some 
 portions. The trees were mostly elm and sycamore or 
 button ball, so called; some of the latter grew to an enor- 
 mous size; one in particular was a few feet south of the 
 horse chestnuts already spoken of; another was in front 
 of the Calvinist Meeting House. A very large elm stood 
 in the sidewalk in front of the Httle square office building, 
 the law office of Judge Bangs, afterwards used by Isaiah 
 Thomas, Jr., adjoining the Lynde house. This small 
 building was occupied by a negro, Gilbert Walker, "Pro- 
 fessor of the Tonsorial Art," afterwards. 
 
 Main and Lincoln were beautiful streets, fined with 
 massive spreading trees, throwing their graceful limbs and 
 welcome shade over road and house and traveler alike. 
 Of all those majestic giants two alone remain, sole repre- 
 sentatives of their land, and they have escaped destruction 
 only because they stand in private grounds. You recog- 
 nize them in front of the house of Mr. F. H. Dewey, on 
 the site of the ancient Dr. Dix place. Of four others 
 standing at the beginning of this year, one in front of 
 the Porter house on Main street and three before the Geer 
 place on Lincoln street, their places now know them no 
 more. There were also three others on Lincoln street of 
 great size, two near the Hancock Arms in the sidewalk, 
 and the other on the Polly Whitney place opposite. Con- 
 trast the street of to-day, shaded with telegraph poles 
 and wires, fenced in with high walls of brick and stone 
 and iron, from whose sides, and from paved street and 
 sidewalks, the reflected rays of the noonday sun create 
 a stifling heat, with that which has been described, and 
 we have an apt illustration of the sajdng, "God made 
 the country, but man made the town." Why this des- 
 truction? A few trees have died of old age, more from 
 
ill usage. The almighty dollar is of more value than 
 venerable trees, or historic houses, or sacred burial-grounds, 
 or consecrated commons, or the stupendous works of 
 nature. 
 
 ''Carl," in his tour through Main street in 1855, says 
 on page 88, "I regret deeply that any of these 'ancient 
 landmarks' should be obliged to give place to the passion 
 for money making, which seems to rule society with a 
 terrific earnestness. But such is the fact; and I appre- 
 hend that the time is not far distant when there will not 
 be a tree standing on Main street, from one end to the 
 other." . . . "It is, in my view, a desecration of 
 our Main street which ought never to have been permitted." 
 
 I frequently see, in West Newton, a majestic elm, around 
 which a house was built with evident trouble and expense, 
 in order that the growth of more than a hundred and 
 twenty-five years might be saved. A few years since a 
 street railway was projected in the town of HoUiston. 
 Twin elms, one of which had a girth of nearly twenty- 
 five feet, stood in the way, and it was decided to cut them 
 down. A citizen of the place, indignant at the vandal- 
 ism about to be committed, called the attention of the 
 authorities at the State House to the outrage, and a seal 
 of the State placed on the trees preserved them from 
 destruction. 
 
 The trees were not the only large thing on the street. 
 My mother told me of a snow drift across the road from 
 Court Hill so high that it was tunneled to allow a load 
 of hay to pass through. As the size of the load was not 
 given it is impossible to state the dimensions of the tunnel. 
 It must have been in the same winter when water did 
 not drip from the eaves for nearly a month and roads 
 had to be broken out every day. 
 
 Originally the hill on the west side of the road had a 
 gradual slope down to the broad meadow which covered 
 all that territory between Main and Summer streets. The 
 
10 
 
 road was built into the side of the hill and its width and 
 grade have been altered many times, till its present con- 
 dition has been reached. On the opposite side of the 
 road from the estate under consideration there was a bank 
 less abrupt than now; its lower side was supported a 
 part of the way by a rough and low stone wall; on its 
 upper surface was a road giving access to the Court House. 
 At the north end of the hill the road branched into two, 
 one of which, called the ''central road," was removed in 
 1832. Neither meeting house nor stone court house were 
 in existence. Isaiah Thomas's house occupied the site of 
 the latter. This house was moved back about 1843, and 
 is still standing. At a point about where State street 
 begins, the upper road was elevated above the main road 
 not more than one-half of what it is at present. Two 
 ways, running diagonally down the bank in opposite di- 
 rections, allowed passage from the upper road to the lower. 
 Between those two ways were the public scales, located 
 on the upper road. I have been told that the scales at 
 first were like a great steelyard and the load was lifted 
 from the ground when weighed. When the stone pillars 
 for the new Court House were drawn up the hill the weight 
 of them caused the wheels on one side to sink into the 
 ground, by reason of the crushing in of one wall of the 
 cavity under the platform of the scales. Recently some 
 immense pillars were being transported to a church in 
 New York city. Their great weight caused the wheels 
 of the truck on which they rested to sink into the ground 
 and become immovable. 
 
 The quiet of a certain Sabbath morning was broken 
 in upon by a runaway team going over the upper road 
 from the north. The horse was attached to a carryall, 
 which was enclosed on all sides except the front by cur- 
 tains. It was the winter season and the road was covered 
 with frozen ruts. The horse dashed down the nearest 
 diagonal way and at the foot of it the king-bolt either 
 
11 
 
 came out or was broken, which let the front part of the 
 carriage fall to the ground. Such was the impetus of the 
 vehicle that the sudden stoppage caused it to turn a partial 
 somerset and land on its top with the hind wheels spinning 
 round in the air. The horse, freed from the carriage, 
 continued his race. For a few moments all was quiet, 
 and the two or three persons who witnessed the accident 
 supposed that the affair was only a runaway. Soon, 
 however, there was a slight movement of the carriage 
 robes and a man staggered from the midst of the wreck; 
 liis wife, unconscious, was removed to the hotel. It was 
 remarked afterward by someone that the accident was a 
 judgment from Heaven for traveling on the Sabbath. 
 
 Opposite Mr. Wheeler's lot was the town pump at the 
 lower side of the embankment; a slight depression in the 
 soil to-day shows the spot where it stood. Behind the 
 pump, hanging on the wall, was subsequently placed one 
 of the several ladders deposited in different parts of the 
 town for use in case of fire. This elevated embankment 
 was, and still is, called "Court Hill," and corresponded to 
 "NobiUty Hill" at the southern end of the street, which 
 began at the present Barton court and extended to Austin 
 street; this latter hill was considerably higher than Court 
 Hill and was removed in 1869. 
 
 The hotel adjoining Mr. Wheeler's house on the south, 
 which was early known as the United States Arms, after- 
 wards as Sikes Coffee House or Sikes Stage House, later 
 as Thomas's Coffee House and Thomas's Temperance Ex- 
 change, was the leading public tavern, where the court 
 judges, lawyers and jurors were entertained and where 
 distinguished travelers stopped. It was honored by the 
 presence of General Washington in 1789 and of General 
 Lafayette in 1825. It was also the terminus for the vari- 
 ous stage lines running in and out of the place, Colonel 
 Reuben Sikes and Capt. Levi Pease, proprietors of taverns, 
 the former of this one under consideration, the latter of 
 
12 
 
 one in Boston and afterwards of the Pease Tavern in Shrews- 
 bury, being extensive owners of these routes. It was one 
 of the features of that day when, several stages well loaded 
 with passengers and baggage, drawn by four and six hand- 
 some horses, champing the bit, pawing the ground and 
 impatient to go, or, coming in at night, the passengers 
 well dusted down and the horses flecked with foam, still 
 alert and mettlesome, departed and arrived. The driver 
 on his elevated seat with the reins of the six restive horses 
 gathered in his left hand, so deftly arranged that each 
 animal felt its slightest movement — it was wonderful how 
 it could be done — with his right foot on the brake, and his 
 right hand grasping the long, flexible whip handle thickly 
 encased with shining ferules of steel, from whose end hung 
 the far-reaching hthe lash, loosely wound around the stock, 
 awaiting the last order or a tardy passenger, was the most 
 important personage of all collected there. Now the com- 
 mand is given, the reins are tightened, the brake is released, 
 the low word for the horses' ears alone is spoken, the coiled 
 lash is unwound with one or two quick movements of the 
 hand and with a skill which only an expert "whip" possesses, 
 shoots out like a flash over the leaders, with a crack 
 which reverberates up and down the street. The horses 
 spring forward with a bound, the loosened tugs become 
 taut, the wheels spin around, and coach, passengers and 
 team are lost in a cloud of dust. Such is an imperfect 
 picture of Genery Twichell, the Prince of stage drivers 
 of forty years ago. What an exhileration in stage coach- 
 ing under such circumstances! How tame the act of a 
 conductor punching a piece of cardboard or pulling a bell 
 rope! 
 
 Stories about stage drivers are innumerable and general- 
 ly are placed in the same category with fish yarns. This 
 one, however, from a minister's lips, as an illustration of 
 a point in his sermon, must be true. He was riding down 
 the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains on the seat 
 
13 
 
 with the driver of a stage. At a certain dangerous turn 
 in the road the driver brought down on the flank of the 
 off leader of the team a sharp blow with his long whip 
 lash, which caused the horse to jump nearly out of his 
 harness. When the minister recovered his senses and 
 asked, with shaking voice, what he did that for, the driver 
 replied, "That colt is apt to shy at that place and I gave 
 him something else to think of." 
 
 On the northerly portion of Mr. Wheeler's lot he built 
 a house with material brought from Harvard. In one 
 part of this he opened a country store and placed his son 
 Daniel Greenleaf in charge. Afterwards his grandsons con- 
 tinued the business. There also was the Probate office, 
 which is spoken of in one deed as opposite the " Haymarket," 
 where loads of hay and wood were exposed for sale. In 
 that house I was ushered into the world; there my father 
 died when I was ten years old. In an upper room Emery 
 Perry had a singing school and later Miss Sarah Ward, 
 who subsequently became the wife of Wm. M. Bickford, 
 taught a private school. Samuel Jennison lived there; 
 afterwards Alex. H, Wilder made it his home till he 
 removed to School street and later to State street. This 
 country store closed with my father's death. His son, 
 the writer, like many another boy, possessed an inquiring 
 turn of mind, which led him into trouble occasionally. 
 One day he saw a bucket of what he supposed to be mo- 
 lasses on the floor near the door, awaiting a customer. 
 It was the work of only a moment to dip his forefinger 
 into the liquid and transfer it to his mouth. It was several 
 minutes before the bitter, chocking tar was removed. A 
 more serious mischief occurred after this. He had seen 
 his father draw molasses from the hogsheads ranged in 
 a row on one side of the back store. As the gate was 
 opened and the bright round stream flowed out and fell 
 into the gallon measure, there was a peculiar fascination 
 about it; he thought it would be a pretty amusement. 
 
14 
 
 He raised the gate, as he had seen his father do, and, either 
 through inability to close it or fright, the stream continued 
 to flow and the floor was covered before the discovery of 
 his roguery was made. Whenever I have recalled this 
 act it has been with a feeling of grief that I caused a kind 
 and indulgent father loss and trouble. My father suffered 
 occasionally from the forgetfulness — to use no severer 
 term — of delinquent customers. In reply to a reminder 
 sent to one whose account had not been settled for a long 
 time, the debtor drove to the store the next day and said, 
 " Mr. Wheeler, I received a very polite invitation yesterday 
 and shall be happy to dine with you to-day." 
 
 There was a glass case on the counter of the store, con- 
 taining various haberdashery wares for sale. In a dish 
 of colored glass beads an egg in the shape of a minute- 
 glass reposed. To the oft-repeated inquiry, "What is 
 it?" my father soberly replied, "It is a rooster's egg." 
 
 The incident about the tar just related calls to mind a 
 story of two travelers in the West many years ago, which 
 was told by my uncle, who was one of them. They reached 
 a log cabin at night and sought entertainment, which was 
 furnished. At the table, which was soon spread, the 
 woman of the house asked my uncle whether he would 
 take long or short sweetening in his coffee. At a loss to 
 know what either term signified he ventured on the first 
 named. His hostess stuck her forefinger into a dish of 
 molasses and withdrawing it well covered with the sticky 
 substance plunged it into the cup of coffee and stirred 
 it round until the sweetening was removed. She then 
 wiped her finger on her tongue. Turning to the other 
 traveler she repeated her question to him. The only 
 choice left was the short. She took up a cake of sugar, 
 bit off a piece and dropped it from her mouth into his 
 cup. As you draw up to the breakfast table tomorrow 
 morning and the fragrant aroma from your steaming 
 
15 
 
 Mocha or Java rises to your nostrils choose whether it 
 shall be long or short! 
 
 When this house was torn down in 1885 an absurd story 
 was started that a large black snake was found in the 
 garret. The only possible foundation for it was this, that 
 a stuffed crocodile about four feet in length had wandered 
 up there, having escaped from my uncle Charles's museum, 
 of which more hereafter. 
 
 About 1785 Mr, Wheeler erected a larger and better 
 house on the southerly half of the lot. This was the third 
 house he had built and occupied. The first one has been 
 standing in Harvard since 1761 and is likely to endure as 
 long as any house there. He died in 1793 and his son 
 Theophilus succeeded to his estate, and also to his office ;" 
 the two held the position of Register of Probate over sixty 
 consecutive years. Rev. Mr. Wheeler Hved during the excit- 
 ing times preceding and during the Revolution ; he was an 
 ardent patriot and aided materially in the stirring events 
 of that time. While living in Harvard he represented the 
 town at the General Court; was a member of the first 
 and third Provincial Congresses; one of the Committee of 
 Correspondence; and was at Wasliington's headquarters 
 in Cambridge in some advisory capacity. There is a 
 tradition in the family that he assisted in the laying out 
 of the fortifications at Bunker Hill and that he was present 
 during the battle; true or not, there is a cannon ball in 
 the family which it is said was fired from the ship Somerset 
 at a group of men, of which he was one, in the early morn- 
 ing of that day. 
 
 Mr. Wheeler was descended from John of Cranfield, 
 near Bedford, England, whose grandson Obadiah came 
 to this country about 1635 and settled in Concord. He 
 was graduated from Harvard College in the class of 1753, 
 and entered the ministry in 1761, in which year he married 
 Mary, the daughter of Dr. Daniel and Silence (Nichols) 
 (Marsh) Greenleaf of Bolton. Dr. Daniel was descended 
 
1^ 
 
 from Edmund of Brixham, near Torbay, England, and 
 came to this country in 1635 and settled in Newbury. 
 The Greenleafs were descendants of the Huguenots. 
 
 Of his son Theophilus, my grandfather, my recollection 
 is limited, but what is lacking in my personal knowledge 
 has been furnished by others who knew him well. He 
 was neat and particular in his dress and personal appear- 
 ance, gracious and courteous to acquaintances and strangers 
 alike, fair in his deahngs with all, the soul of honor and 
 honesty, condescending in his manner, affable and approach- 
 able, pleasing in his address, and his conversation was 
 enlivened with humor. He was trusted by his fellow 
 citizens, as the various offices which he held testify. 
 
 We occasionally hear the expression, "A gentleman of 
 the Old School," and have a somewhat vague idea of its 
 meaning, for that person, in the concrete form, is seldom 
 seen in this busy driving day of ours, when the model 
 man is too often represented as a hustler. I call to your 
 remembrance one, whom many of you knew, as a type 
 of the former, Mr. Clarendon Harris, for many years the 
 genial secretary of the State Mutual Life Assurance Com- 
 pany and the accommodating treasurer of the Five Cents 
 Savings Bank. The courtesy and politeness wliich he 
 showed to the humblest individual could not be excelled. 
 The probity of his dealings was never questioned. His 
 readiness to perform a favor, often at the expense of time 
 and discomfort to himself, was one of his chief character- 
 istics. He was the tender, polite lover to his wife as long 
 as she lived. Mrs. Harris occasionally came to his office 
 to make a short call and a brief rest. As soon as she opened 
 the door he hastened to take her a chair, bring her a fan 
 and a glass of water, inquiring if she were wearied, and 
 seated himself by her side, all so loverlike, polite and 
 courteous that one would naturally suppose he was just 
 beginning Ufe's journey instead of drawing towards its 
 close. An intimate association with him for a long time 
 
17 
 
 enables me to say that I never knew of an unkind act, 
 or ever heard an angry expression from his lips, or a low, 
 vulgar or vile word proceed from his mouth. He detested 
 the practical joker. Such a person approached him one day 
 and shook hands vigorously; a concealed pin caused con- 
 siderable pain, and ever after Mr. Harris held that man in 
 the utmost contempt. Mr. Harris's early life was in Dor- 
 chester, where his father, Dr. Thaddeus Mason Harris, was 
 pastor of the Meeting House Hill Church. He learned the 
 trade of watch-maker of Bond, a famous artisan of that day. 
 He had a fund of information and stories about old Boston, 
 which were often communicated. Two or three tales are 
 too good to be lost. In the days before our fathers dis- 
 covered the wrongs of chattel slavery, there was a very 
 bright slave in Boston, by the name of Cuffy, who was 
 continually playing pranks on his master and his fellows. 
 For some misdemeanor his master sent a note by him to 
 the public whipping officer, ordering him to be whipped. 
 CufTy's wits were not so dull but that he felt sure what 
 would be the result of that errand, and he accordingly 
 set them to work. Seeing in the distance one of his cronies 
 coming towards him he sat down on one of the stone steps 
 which projected upon the sidewalk, where he was seized 
 with a mortal sickness, which caused him to rock back 
 and forth violently. Pompey hastened up and, "Cuff, 
 what's de matter." "Awful pain, heah, Pomp, deah, 
 awful! I shall die." Rolhng up his eyes, throwing his 
 head back, rubbing his stomach and stamping his feet, 
 he groaned, " Drefful pain, what shall I do? Auful!" 
 Pompey, deeply commiserating his suffering fellow, said, 
 "Enyting I can do. Cuff?" "Suah, Pomp, Oh! Awful 
 pain! Massa sent. Oh! dis note. I shall die. Nevah 
 git dere. Cain't you— 0! deah! tak it for me? Awful 
 pain!" Pompey, too glad to do a favor, took the note 
 and marched off. As soon as he was out of sight Cuffy 
 disappeared with as much alacrity as a lame beggar does 
 
18 
 
 when he sees a runaway horse bearing down on him. 
 Sometimes the joke was on Cuffy himself. At another 
 time he met Sambo carrying a gallon jug. "Hi! Samb, 
 what yer got?" "Oh, nuttin, only suthin fer Marse 
 Byles," — the distinguished Parson Matthew Byles. "Well, 
 Samb, giv us a drink?" "Cain't, Cuff, 's fur Marse Byles." 
 "Oh! now, just one taste." "Tell yer, cain't." A little 
 more teasing and Sambo passed over the jug to Cuffy, 
 who, pulling out the cork, raising the vessel to his mouth 
 and throwing his head back, took a long and generous 
 draught. Quicker than it went up down came the jug, 
 while from his mouth and nostrils streams of black fluid 
 spurted out, as he vehemently sputtered, "Pen and ink! 
 Pen and ink!" Some time after this his master's patience 
 was exhausted and he determined to send Cuffy South. 
 He engaged Capt. Smith of one of the trading vessels to 
 take him and requested him to detain a negro who would 
 bring him a basket of fruit. Selecting a variety of choice 
 apples and pears he directed Cuffy to take them, with 
 his compliments, to Capt. Smith of the schooner Dandy 
 Jim, lying at Long Wharf. Cuffy started and soon met 
 Moses and said to him, "Mose, Marse gib me tre, four 
 jobs to do, won't you tak dis basket to Capt. Smith." 
 Cuffy kept in hiding a few days and then returned to his 
 master, who, astonished, exclaimed, "I thought you had 
 gone South." "Yes sah, trablin on de water doan agree 
 wid dis niggah, and I got anoder fellah to go in my place." 
 Several years since I met Capt. Edward Lamb, an ex- 
 tensive builder in the town, on Court Hill, who remarked 
 on the architectural features of the house opposite, and 
 said that he never passed the doorway without stopping 
 to admire it. Let us look at the house from the same 
 standpoint for a moment before approaching nearer, to 
 examine more minutely its details. It is nearly square, 
 the front being about forty-five feet and the depth not 
 much less; it is two stories in height and about as high 
 
19 
 
 studded as houses of to-day. There are two windows on 
 each side of the door, both below and above, and one over 
 the entrance. A large chimney rises above the centre of 
 the roof, which is what is termed a hip roof, the hips run- 
 ning from the four corners to meet the chimney. As we 
 enter the front yard we see that the clapboards or clay- 
 boards, as they were originally termed, are narrow and 
 the ends, instead of being butted together, are chamfered 
 and lap over each other. They are fastened with hand- 
 wrought nails; indeed all hardware used in the construc- 
 tion and finishing of the house, including hinges and latches 
 and fastenings, is hand-wrought. It is hand-painted, too. 
 The materials used, both lead and oil, have been of so 
 good a quality that the paint has a perceptible thickness 
 and is hard like stone. The eaves are finished with brackets 
 and dentals, as are also the window caps, of about a foot 
 in width. The corners are covered with beveled blocks, 
 short and long ones alternately. The front door is double 
 leaved, with circular top and paneled, set in a recessed 
 casing, which is likewise paneled. On the front of the 
 casing are fluted pilasters with their bases, and capitals 
 supporting the architrave, on which rests the entablature; 
 and above all a pediment finished to correspond with that 
 of the eaves. Smaller pilasters fluted, within the others, 
 support an arch and its key. On the right hand leaf of 
 the door is a large brass knocker highly polished. As our 
 purpose is to see the inside of the house as well as its out- 
 side, we raise the arm of the knocker. As it falls with a 
 loud clang the announcement is made not only to the 
 household, but to the neighborhood as well, that Squire 
 Wheeler is having callers. This appliance must have been 
 invented by some village gossip. In response to the knock 
 we are ushered into a small entry. Doors on either hand 
 lead into front rooms. The flight of stairs begins at the 
 left hand side; four or five steps end in a broad landing, 
 where a turn to the right is made and the same number 
 
20 
 
 of steps leads to another and similar landing, from which, 
 by a final turn in the same direction, the steps terminate 
 at the upper landing, which occupies the front part of 
 the entry. The new^l and other posts at the corners 
 of the landings are elaborately turned, fluted and twisted, 
 as are, in the same manner, the balusters. The rail is 
 of mahogany or pine, stained. The walls of the lower 
 entry are wainscoted and a paneled dado follows the flight 
 of stairs. The walls above the dado are covered with 
 paper representing rural scenes. Some of the wall papers 
 of those days were elaborate in design and occasionally 
 artistic in w^orkmanship. There is a house in Rockville 
 in this State, the walls of one room having paper of such 
 a character. It is seventy-five years old. On it are large 
 shade trees; in fruit trees are men and boys throwing 
 down fruit to maidens; gypsey wagons with men leading 
 the horses; buildings; streams of water, — all well pro- 
 portioned and harmonious. There is a house in North 
 Andover having a room covered with paper one hundred 
 years old. Also another house in Deerfield with paper as 
 old; still another, the Phelps house, in West Sutton. 
 
 As we enter the front door the first object which meets 
 our eyes is a pair of brightly painted pails of an odd shape, 
 suspended from hooks overhead, with the owner's name 
 in gilt letters thereon. In answer to an inquiry we are 
 told that they are fire buckets and that the owner of the 
 house is a member of the Worcester Fire Society, which 
 was organized January 21, 1793, with twenty-three mem- 
 bers, for the more effectual assistance of each other and 
 of their townsmen in times of danger from fire, when there 
 was no fire engine in the town. Each member of the 
 society is required to provide himself with two leathern 
 buckets of a special pattern, to be kept well painted, on 
 which the owner's name and number are to be plainly 
 lettered. The buckets are to contain a large and stout 
 hempen bag, a long and strong rope, and an instrument 
 
21 
 
 combining in itself a hammer, a bed wrench and a nail 
 and tack puller. The buckets are to be kept in a place 
 easily accessible. Therefore they are almost invariably 
 to be seen suspended in the entry near the front door. 
 This apparatus is examined at stated periods and if not 
 found in good conchtion a fine is imposed. There were 
 social and festive duties connected with the society, which 
 still keeps up its organization. Whether or not this so- 
 ciety was modeled after one formed by General George 
 Washington it is impossible to say. August 13, 1774, 
 General Washington organized the Friendship Fire Company 
 in Alexandria, Virginia. The first membership comprised 
 those citizens who, out of mutual friendship, agreed to 
 carry to every fire leathern buckets and one great bag 
 of Osnaburg or wide linen. Wliile in Pliiladelphia in 
 1775 he became so much impressed with the advantage 
 of fire engines that he bought one for £80, 10 shillings, 
 and presented it to the company which he organized. 
 During the last year of his life, as he was riding on horse- 
 back, accompanied by a servant, on one of the streets 
 of Alexandria a fire broke out. Noticing that the engine 
 was poorly manned, he called to the bystanders for help, 
 dismounted from his horse, seized the brakes and worked 
 with the others till the fire was subdued. 
 
 Let us watch the proceedings at a fire. The stillness 
 of the night hours is suddenly broken in upon by the cry 
 of Fire! Fire! which is quickly taken up and repeated 
 from mouth to mouth; lights begin to ghmmer in the 
 neighboring windows; from house after house men rush 
 forth with their buckets, finishing their dressing as they 
 run. A tiny flame can be seen crawling up on the roof 
 of Joseph Lynde's house near by. Some drop their buckets 
 and hasten for the ladder hanging from the Court House 
 on the opposite side of the street. Many hands raise it 
 to the roof of the house; two lines of men between the 
 pump across the way and the foot of the ladder have been 
 
22 
 
 formed; some have mounted to the roof. Buckets are 
 rapidly filled and quickly passed along the line on to the 
 roof, where the contents are dashed on the flames and 
 the buckets thrown to the ground; where they are caught 
 up and passed back to the pump by the other hne of men, 
 to be filled again. In this rough usage the value of a 
 leathern bucket over a wooden pail is demonstrated. Wil- 
 ling hands and arms make quick work, and before we can 
 tell it a constant supply of water is pouring on the burning 
 spot. Occasionally a slip is made and someone receives 
 the bucket of water, or a portion of it, on his person. 
 Meanwhile many have entered the house to save as much 
 as possible of its contents. In one room some are putting 
 the small and valuable articles in bags, — fortunately there 
 was not much bric-a-brac in those days, — in another, 
 others are letting down from the window of the second 
 story some heavy article with ropes; some are tying up 
 beds and bedding; men are attacking the bedsteads with 
 wrenches, — not to be knocked apart in a minute as modern 
 ones can be, — two bolts must be unscrewed from each 
 post and a long rope drawn out from three sides of the 
 sacking, if not more rapidly done with a knife. Many 
 hands work expeditiously and down it comes. Stop an 
 instant and turn your looks on that earnest worker! he 
 has a big heart, but his head is a little confused; he has 
 pitched a looking-glass out of the window, and is now 
 carefully carrying down stairs shovel and tongs in one 
 hand and a feather pillow in the other. Let us praise 
 him for his good intentions. No wonder that someone 
 loses presence of mind at such a time. I am reminded of 
 the story of a man in Providence who became completely 
 flustered on hearing of a sudden disaster. An excursion 
 steamboat, called the Oliver Ellsworth, pHed up and down 
 the waters of the bay. One forenoon a report was cir- 
 culated that she had blown up. On hearing it this man, 
 bareheaded, with hair streaming in the wind, rushed into 
 
23 
 
 the street shouting, "The Elivor Olswerth's biled her 
 buster." Rapid work has been going on outside the house 
 and soon the welcome sound is heard, "Fire's all out." 
 Not much damage is done by the flames, the ladder is 
 lowered from the roof and returned to its place. Some 
 of the buckets and their equipment are picked up, the 
 rest being left till morning; the neighbors go to their 
 homes and await the coming of another day to return and 
 render such further aid as they can to the disordered house- 
 hold. 
 
 Returning from this digression we enter the north front 
 room, past a paneled door about an inch thick hung on 
 soUd 'strap hinges, one-half of each hinge being a piece 
 of iron an inch wide and seven inches long, the other half 
 in the shape of the letter L, attached to door and jamb 
 with wrought nails, not an easy article to remove, either 
 in need of repair or in case of fire; the door is held in place 
 by a latch, a narrow straight piece of iron, with brass 
 handle and thumb piece. The size of the room, sixteen 
 feet square and nine feet high, impresses us. There are 
 two windows in front and one on the side deeply recessed, 
 underneath which are cushioned seats; paneled shutters 
 cover the windows at night; during the day they fold 
 back into receptacles at the sides. Two sides of the room 
 are wainscoted to the ceihng; a heavy cornice of wood 
 runs round the top of the sides. A large open fireplace, 
 bordered with Dutch tiles, is on the south side and near 
 one corner. A small closet, half way up the side by the 
 chimney, and a very shallow full-length one let into the 
 opposite, or outer wall, are receptacles for choice pieces 
 of table ware. Over the fireplace is a large panel, two 
 feet by five, on which is a painting of Main street. Very 
 stiff trees line the sides of the street. At the extreme 
 left stands a house with a front yard, fenced in, and a 
 barn; not far from it is quite a faithful copy of the house 
 we are in; at the other end, without any proportion or 
 
24 
 
 perspective, is a cluster of dwellings surrounding the Old 
 South Meeting House. This panel now rests in a similar 
 position over a fireplace in a modern house. In the Bul- 
 lard house at West Sutton are two panels similar to this, 
 one in the parlor, the other in the chamber over it, rep- 
 resenting the Battle of Bunker Hill and Boston Harbor. 
 That distinguished preacher, Henry Ward Beecher, met 
 and won his wife under the shadow of these scenes. 
 A door in the east side of the parlor opens into the dining- 
 room, which is plainly finished and has a fireplace set 
 around with tiles. 
 
 On the south side of the entry a door opens into a room 
 nearly the counterpart of the one just described. Con- 
 nected with it is the largest closet in the house, in an open- 
 ing under the front stairs, and that is meagre compared 
 with modern ones. It may be truthfully said that the 
 house is almost entirely destitute of closet room. Were they 
 all combined in one it would not contain the wardrobe 
 of one of our wives or daughters. This closet is divided 
 into two by a broad shelf, an upper and a lower, and is 
 about three feet deep. Goodies of various kinds are here 
 kept from too curious eyes and prying hands. A hasty 
 glance within and we are turning away when one of our 
 number, more inquisitive than the rest, sees what seems 
 to be a door at the back side of the lower part and suggests 
 a look witliin. A candle is produced and a cavity is re- 
 vealed, containing much accumulated dust and many 
 cobwebs. Brushing the latter aside, regardless of dust, 
 on hands and knees, our curious member enters; he meets 
 a turn to the right, one to the left, a shght rise and, as 
 his eyes become adjusted to the dim light, he finds him- 
 self in a small brick cavity, tapering upwards to a point 
 in which he can stand upright. In a corner overhead a 
 ghmmer of light appears; changing his position he looks 
 up to the sky. No other opening except that by which he 
 entered is discovered. From the apex of the cavity a 
 
25 
 
 hook or two depends. What a place for the conceaHng 
 of a fugitive slave — one of the numerous stations of the 
 underground railroad — or the hiding of valuable property! 
 There is no tradition of any dire deed committed and 
 concealed here; nothing more tragic than that the place 
 might have been used for the smoking of hams! The 
 front chambers are of the same size as the rooms below, 
 each having a fireplace and a very small closet at the side 
 of the chimney. A glance into the garret shows only a 
 store room and the heavy white oak rafters, against which 
 heads will be bumped unless due care is used, running up 
 to and mortised into the huge timbers framed around the 
 chimney. In the cellar there confronts us the enormous 
 size of the foundation of the chimney, twelve to fifteen 
 feet square, of solid granite; in one part of it is an arched 
 closet wherein are numerous bottles containing at one 
 time something stronger than water. Another cavity is 
 for the storage of fruit. At the back side of the cellar is 
 a long and narrow log, hollowed out, resembling a rough 
 dug-out or Indian canoe. Its origin and use are left to 
 conjecture, which may be sometliing like the following. 
 All that region of the State in which Harvard is situated 
 formerly was the home of the Nashua tribe of Indians; 
 through the valley flowed the Nashua and Still Rivers, 
 creating the rich bottom lands which are so well adapted 
 for grazing and cultivation. On these fertile plains the 
 Indians raised their maize, and in these waters they fished. 
 This canoe may have floated more than one dusky maiden 
 on these streams generations before there was any thought 
 of diverting their waters to quench the thirst of the teem- 
 ing population in a far away city. 
 
 The house is set low on its foundation, consequently 
 the cellar is dark, light being admitted through two or 
 three small openings, on account of the cold of winter. 
 Were the outside covering of the house to be stripped off 
 there would be seen the heavy timbers forming the frame- 
 
26 
 
 work, all of solid white oak; the sills are a foot square; the 
 corner posts, plates and crossbeams are nearly as large; 
 the studding and floor joists are of the same material. 
 We read of old-time house and barn raisings, and suppose 
 that the fifty or seventy-five persons present were mostly 
 attracted by the novelty of the affair. Not so. One 
 side of the building was framed and put together on the 
 ground; when ready the raising of the great weight called 
 into requisition the strength of the whole company. Noth- 
 ing short of an earthquake shock or fire could move or 
 harm a structure thus framed. The balloon frames of 
 to-day are easily and quickly reared and as easily and 
 quickly shaken and demolished. In many of the ancient 
 houses the corner posts and the beams overhead projected 
 into the room, but in this house the studding and floor 
 joists are furred out flush with the post and beams. In 
 the chambers those timbers are exposed. 
 
 The furnishing is as ancient as the house itself. Begin- 
 ning with the kitchen, the most important room in many 
 respects, a wide throated fireplace opens into the broad 
 chimney, on one side of which swings a long, blackened 
 crane; from it depend pot hooks of various sizes and 
 lengths, some being adjustable; on them hang kettles 
 of different kinds. Massive andirons hold up the large 
 billets of wood. Shovel and tongs stand on either side, 
 resting against hooks. On the broad, stone hearth, before 
 the bed of hot coals, stands the bright tin-kitchen, with 
 the long iron spit running through it lengthwise, termin- 
 ating in a handle on the outside, on which the roasts to 
 be cooked are hung. Skillets and kettles are ranged 
 around; among them is a circular baking pan, with an 
 iron cover, having raised edges. Batter, prepared with 
 fresh milk, thick cream and newly laid eggs, is poured 
 into the well buttered pan, the cover is put in place and 
 heaped with hot coals and ashes and set in the midst of 
 the fire. In a short time the pan is withdrawn, the cover 
 
27 
 
 carefully removed, and lo! a thick, puffy, thoroughly 
 baked, richly browned cake to tempt an epicure! A gen- 
 erous wedge, eaten with golden butter, thick maple syrup, 
 moistened with fragrant coffee — properly sweetened — is 
 what our ancestors breakfasted on. In a corner of the 
 room an iron door opens into the brick oven, whence so 
 many creature comforts proceed. The oven is circular in 
 shape, five feet in diameter, arched over, eighteen inches 
 high in the centre, with a flue into the chimney from 
 one corner. Early Saturday morning before it is hght 
 armfuls of wood are brought in from the woodshed and 
 piled into the oven; a fire is started, other armfuls are 
 soon needed. In an hour or more the oven is sufficiently 
 heated, the fire is drawn out, the ashes are removed and 
 the pies, cake, bread, meats, etc., which had been pre- 
 pared in the meantime, are slid in on a long-handled iron 
 shovel and the door is closed. The baking is closely watched 
 and in due time there are drawn forth mince and apple 
 pies, with rich, flaky crust, slightly browned, custard and 
 pumpkin pies, swelling under their golden brown coats, 
 great loaves of spongy wliite bread, the crust just colored, 
 and pans of fragrant cake. What an aroma of appetizing 
 smells fills the house! How the children reveled in baking 
 day mornings, watching with eager eyes, helping, tasting, 
 getting in the way, clapping their hands as mama's or 
 grandma's or aunty's brown elephant and humped-back 
 camel and frisky dog were spread out on the tin to cool! 
 Some elderly persons to-day are so extremely fasticfious 
 as to think that a mince pie baked in a brick oven is far 
 more tempting than one cooked in a Crawford or McGee 
 range! People will be so silly! When all that batch is 
 removed pots of beans and pans of brown bread are put 
 in to remain overnight, ready for the Sabbath breakfast 
 and dinner. Open shelves on the sides of the room, on 
 which are arranged rows of shining pewter platters and 
 plates, with pitchers, bowls and mugs, are above the dresser. 
 
28 
 
 which serves as table and closet. When the day's work 
 is done the high-backed, roomy and comfortable settle is 
 drawn from the side of the room and placed before the 
 fire, a welcome resting-place after the toils of the day. 
 
 The picture ought to be completed by making mention 
 of the tall spinning-wheel in one corner, whose usually 
 busy whirr has been quiet on this baking day; the cano- 
 pied wooden cradle near at hand, to be jogged by the 
 foot at the least indication of wakefulness from the sleeper 
 within; and the large round table beside which sits the 
 patient worker toeing up a stocking by the feeble light 
 of a single tallow dip, — she is representative of the coup- 
 let, "Man's work's from sun to sun; but woman's work 
 is never done." 
 
 In the dining-room there is the cheerful open fire, the 
 mahogany table on turned and fluted round legs, with 
 the leaves turned down, setting against the side of the 
 room when not in use, and the handsome inlaid sideboard, 
 six or seven feet in length, on legs about one foot high, 
 with closets below and drawers over them, ornamented 
 with brass knobs, handles and escutcheons. On the broad 
 upper shelf are displayed the larger pieces of silver ware, 
 and there also are set out the cut glass decanters and wine 
 glasses. The drawers hold the small silver ware, cutlery 
 and napery, and in the closets the choice pieces of china 
 are placed. 
 
 In the parlor are a piano or spinet or harpsichord, a 
 long, wide, very restful sofa, three or four small tables 
 and several claw-footed, high-backed chairs, the seats of 
 which are covered with fine needlework, the product of 
 members of the household. 
 
 The chief piece of furniture in the chamber is the high 
 post bed. How can it be described intelUgently? Words 
 almost fail us. The posts, turned, with twisted fluting 
 and finely carved, reach nearly to the ceiling. Their tops 
 are connected by narrow strips of wood, over which is 
 
29 
 
 spread the tester or canopy of cotton or silk ornamented 
 with birds and flowers in bright colors; among the birds I 
 recall pheasants and birds of paradise. Deep fringed 
 scallops hang from the sides, and the posts are draped 
 in ample folds. Three feet or less from the bottom of the 
 posts, heavy side and end pieces of wood are mortised 
 into the posts and held in place by long iron screw-bolts, 
 the heads of which are countersunk into the wood and 
 covered with ornamented circular discs of brass. Holes 
 are bored horizontally through the side pieces, six inches 
 apart, and through them a strong rope is stretched taut, 
 running back and forth across the intervening space. On 
 tliis the bedding is laid. A better foundation is made 
 with a piece of strong canvas, a foot smaller than the 
 space to be filled; one end is firmly secured to one of the 
 cross-pieces, usually that at the head; narrow strips of 
 canvas are secured to the sides; through holes in the edges 
 of these a rope is passed and tightened. A valance, of 
 material like the tester, or a less expensive kind, is hung 
 around the bed from the cross-pieces. The purpose of 
 this is to provide a hiding place for house thieves, and to 
 keep from view necessary articles. It was the uniform 
 practice of our foremothers to raise the valance and look 
 under the bed for robbers before retiring. It is related 
 of one good woman, who had discovered a thief under 
 her bed, that, before disrobing and retiring, she sat down 
 as was her custom, and read aloud from the Psalms, "The 
 eyes of the Lord are in every place." "God is our refuge 
 and strength, a very present help in trouble." "He shall 
 give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee." "The 
 Lord is my salvation: of whom shall I be afraid." "In 
 God have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man 
 can do unto me." Closing the Bible, she calmly knelt 
 and asked protection from the hand of violence and com- 
 mitted herself to the care of him who has declared, "he 
 that keepeth thee will neither slumber nor sleep." She 
 
30 
 
 awoke the next morning unharmed, to find herself pro- 
 tected and her property undisturbed. 
 
 Having made the necessary preparation for retiring you 
 stand before the bed and are confronted with the question, 
 how you are to get in. Above the elevated foundation 
 rises two feet of feathers, blankets, sheets and counter- 
 pane, rounded up in the middle, a matter of five feet you 
 are to surmount. Unable to see either a high chair, stool 
 or stepladder you give a desperate bound and land on 
 airy nothingness, and as you sink down, down, a thought 
 of one of those infernal beds in the Inquisition, which 
 lowers the victim to a cruel death, crosses your mind, 
 but almost immediately your motion is stayed and your 
 body is enveloped in a soft, yielding substance; before 
 you are aware of it your eyes close and you are enjoying 
 the sleep of the just. Half awaking the next morning, 
 how restful, how quiet! you can not be disturbed! your 
 drowsy eyes catch dim pictures of gay birds sporting 
 amongst bright foliage, and dreamily you think of Araby 
 the blest and your thoughts wander to Java, Sumatra, 
 Borneo, Ceylon, South America, and their luxuriant forests, 
 teeming with birds of every hue, buzzing insects, gorgeous 
 butterflies and glistening reptiles. Suddenly your wan- 
 dering senses are awakened by the sound of a bell; you 
 make a spring, and, forgetful of your situation, you find 
 yourself sprawling on the floor. While dressing you acci- 
 dentally brush aside a corner of the valance and see what 
 seems to be a box. A slight touch causes it to move. 
 You pull it out a little and behold! a trundle bed! What 
 heretofore has been a mystery is solved; how a family 
 of twelve, fifteen and twenty children could be raised in 
 a small house. We will not stop to calculate how many 
 to a bed and a room, but the fact remains that it was 
 done. My great-grandfather provided for eleven children 
 in his moderate sized house in Harvard. His second wife 
 had sixteen brothers and sisters born in Annapolis, Nova 
 
31 
 
 Scotia, and Boston. Her daughter by a former husband 
 was the mother of twelve children. My grandmother 
 Wheeler was one of seventeen children living in Worcester. 
 What happy recollections are connected with the trundle 
 bed! After supper and a brief romp or a short story, 
 white robed, at mother's knee, with folded hands, we 
 repeat, "Now I lay me down to sleep;" tucked in bed, 
 one hand in mother's warm embrace, as she kneels by the 
 side of the cot, we listen to her loving voice while she 
 thanks the dear Heavenly Father for his gift, and com- 
 mits us to the care of the loving Saviour; followed by 
 the good night's kiss, we are soon locked in the arms of 
 sweet sleep. Waking the next morning what a privilege 
 to clamber into the large bed and cuddle down for a brief 
 frolic with papa and mama. 
 
 Mrs. Anne Bradstreet, wife of the Governor, tells, in 
 her quaint way, of her little brood, and therein voices 
 the affection of many mothers for their flock. 
 
 " I had eight birds hatcht in one nest, 
 Four cocks there were and hens the rest, 
 I nursed them up with pain and care, 
 Nor cost nor labor did I spare, 
 Till, at the last, they felt their wing, 
 Mounted the trees and learned to sing." 
 
 Was it John Adams, who, every night during his long 
 life, repeated that prayer learned at his mother's knee 
 when he was a child? The spirit of gentleness which it 
 breathed was not lost on a young girl, the daughter of 
 a clergyman, who devoted many years to lecturing and 
 writing about the injurious effects of the use of tobacco. 
 Her mother requested her to go to the stable and ask for 
 a gentle horse to take her to ride. She went and said, 
 ''Mr. Brown, mother wishes to ride and she wants a horse 
 which doesn't smoke and doesn't chew and says, 'Now 
 I lay me' when he goes to bed." 
 
 Other articles of furniture in the house are the highboy, 
 of several drawers, large and small, perched on long, spind- 
 
32 
 
 ling legs; the lowboy, of two drawers, equally elevated; 
 the low bureau ; the secretary, with its drawers and sloping 
 top, which, when opened, formed the writing desk, with 
 its various pigeon-holes and secret drawer, — all these 
 adorned with brass handles of quaint patterns, and knobs. 
 Also the tall mahogany clock, with its three brass globes 
 at the top, the whole reaching nearly to the ceiling; the 
 pendulum of wood terminating in a bob, a convex disc of 
 brass, roughly filled with lead; the weights, tin cylinders 
 containing sand; its brass or enameled face, with maker's 
 name thereon, a Willard or a Stowell, around which its 
 tireless hands revolve; its two painted ships under full 
 canvas, sailing over a painted ocean without ever reaching 
 their destined port; its two red cheeked, laughing-eyed 
 moons rising and setting with great regularity each month; 
 its index finger marking the day of the month and its 
 hammered brass works uninjured, still capable of record- 
 ing time for generations to come. Much of the furniture 
 herein described is doing service to-day. 
 
 A generous hospitality was maintained in this house. 
 Social gatherings and evening parties were frequent. Mr. 
 Harris, of whom I have already spoken, has told me of 
 the delightful Saturday night suppers regularly eaten there 
 in company with a few friends and neighbors. There was 
 a simplicity and cordiality about them which lacked the 
 feverish excitement of the present day. In the diary, 
 recently discovered, of my uncle Charles, a member of the 
 household in the early twenties, are recorded the names 
 of those who met at the house. From that it appears 
 that Doctor Fiske and wife, Judge Bangs and wife. Claren- 
 don Harris and wife, Edward D. Bangs, Samuel and William 
 Jennison, Rev'd's Mr. and Mrs. Goodrich and Hull and 
 wife, the Misses Thomas, Miss Anne Lynde, Miss Mary 
 Grosvenor, Miss Mary Andrews, the Misses Aim and Eliza- 
 beth Ellery, Mrs. Andrew Duncan and Miss Sarah D. 
 Fiske were weekly and semi- weekly visitors. Less fre- 
 
u 
 
 quent callers were Major Healey and daughter, Doctor 
 Thaddeus M. Harris, Austin Denny and his daughter 
 Mary, General Nathan Heard, Major Rejoice Newton, 
 Stephen Salisbury, Deacon Jeremiah Robinson, Elisha and 
 Marshall Flagg, Simeon Burt, George T. Rice, George Ban- 
 croft, George A. Trumbull, Abijah Bigelow, General Thomas 
 Chamberlain, Captain Asa Hamilton and wife, Miss Leaven- 
 worth, Colonel Reuben Sikes and his daughters, Doctor 
 John Green, Doctor Benjamin Heywood and many others. 
 Having received an invitation to an evening party of 
 young people, we are ushered into the north parlor. The 
 room is well lighted from candles placed in silver candle- 
 sticks. A bright fire is burning on the hearth. A dozen 
 or more persons are seated about the room on the claw- 
 footed chairs, engaged in merry conversation, enUvened 
 by frequent bursts of laughter at some sally of wit, or 
 engaged in or listening to the strains of music. My aunt 
 Harriet and my uncle Charles were good musicians, both 
 vocal and instrumental, one on the piano, the other with 
 the flute. Her piano, imported by my grandfather nearly 
 one hundred years ago, now in my possession, is one of 
 Muzzio dementi's, a celebrated composer and manufact- 
 urer of instruments, who, when a mere child, was discovered 
 by an EngUshman, playing an organ in Italy, and taken 
 to England and educated by him. The instrument is in 
 perfect condition and is in use frequently. Its tones are 
 sweet like those of a good music box. Soon games are 
 introduced and the company separates into groups. In 
 the midst of the games we hear someone say, "William, 
 it is time to snuff the candle." We at once expect the 
 introduction of a new game, "Snuff the candle"; but the 
 person addressed takes from the table a curious instru- 
 ment, somewhat resembling a pair of scissors, with which 
 he deftly snips off the end of the wick of one of the candles, 
 which ceases to smoke; it also gives a brighter Hght. 
 Attempting to do the same to another candle, he unwit- 
 
34 
 
 tingly extinguishes the flame. This causes a merry laugh 
 and he is pleasantly twitted for his lack of skill. We learn 
 that it is necessary to remove the end of the wick fre- 
 quently, and a pair of snuffers, to match the candlesticks, 
 is a necessity. We are told that a primitive method to 
 effect the same end is to moisten with the lips the tip 
 ends of the thumb and forefinger and use them as snuffers. 
 
 These parties were sometimes held in the garden. One, 
 who has since passed away, gives the impressions she 
 received when a young girl: "The garden was furnished 
 with a closed grapery or arbor, containing a large closet 
 liberally stocked with all the edibles and delicacies that 
 a company of merry young people would enjoy on a moon- 
 light evening. They entertained each other with music 
 and similar enjoyments, that made the occasions lifelong 
 memories of vanished joys. In the rear of these mansions 
 were extensive gardens of equal size; across the lower 
 part flowed a purling stream and rare fruits and choice 
 flowers, fountains and the more common embellishments 
 were results of the industry, taste and skill of the younger 
 branches of the families." My recollection brings to 
 mind the great abundance of fine fruits and the grapery, 
 one vine of which had a stem eight or ten inches in diameter 
 at its base, but not the fountains. However, in an inden- 
 ture between Mary Lynde, widow of Joseph Lynde, and 
 Abraham Lincoln, made Oct. 1, 1791, she receives, among 
 other privileges, the use of water for her fountain from 
 his mill pond. 
 
 We soon discover that something more attractive than 
 games and witty sayings and music has brought these 
 young people together. More than one acquaintance made 
 here ripened into a lasting friendship and a happy union. 
 The following account of the courtship of two of the parties 
 was given me by a daughter of one of them. The hand 
 of my aunt Mary was sought by Edward D. Bangs and 
 William Jennison. On one occasion Mr. Bangs gave her 
 
35 
 
 a small paper-covered almanac —a gift so cheap, judged 
 by to-day's standards, that many a child would hardly 
 notice it,-in which he wrote, "To the all accomplished, 
 admirable and adorable Miss Mary L. Wheeler." Subse- 
 quently Mr. Jennison made her a Hke gift, containing her 
 name alone. Under some subtle intuition or rare pene- 
 tration not vouchsafed to our coarser natures, she yielded 
 to Mr. Jennison's persuasions. Mr. Bangs's grief was not 
 inconsolable, for in due time he won a no less estimable 
 partner in the person of Miss Mary Grosvenor, the grand- 
 daughter of Colonel Reuben Sikes, who years afterwards 
 became the wife of Mr. Stephen SaUsbury. Mr. Samuel 
 Jennison found in Miss Ann Ellery a fitting companion. 
 Mr Simeon Burt paid his address to Miss Ann Robinson 
 and was accepted. Dr. John Green found a prize in Miss 
 Dolly Curtis. Austin Denny led to the altar Miss Burbank. 
 Mr. Otis Pierce bore Miss Sarah D. Fiske away to Dor- 
 chester. Henry Wheeler was accepted by Miss Mary 
 H. Thaxter, and later William Duncan Wheeler drew 
 from her home in Danvers Miss Eliza C. Poole. 
 
 Some confusion has arisen latterly about the person 
 whom Mr. Bangs married. Mr. Caleb A. Wall, in his 
 ''Reminiscences," page 256, says she was the daughter 
 of Rev. Ebenezer Grosvenor of Harvard. My uncle Charles 
 in his diary says she was the granddaughter of Col. Reuben 
 Sikes He ought to have known from his intimate ac- 
 quaintance with both parties. Were these females one 
 and the same person? They were not. Here is the proof. 
 Mary Grosvenor, the daughter of Rev. Ebenezer and 
 Elizabeth (Clark) Grosvenor, the eighth child of a family 
 of nine children, was born April 3, 1777; was married, 
 April 13, 1796, to Dr. Henry Parker of W^orcester, who 
 died in 1802 at Batavia, West Indies; she died May 8, 
 1802, and had been dead twenty-two years when Mr. 
 Bangs was married. 
 
 Mary Grosvenor, the granddaughter of Reuben Sikes, 
 
36 
 
 and daughter of Moses and Mary (Sikes) Grosvenor of 
 Pomfret, Ct., was born in 1800, and was married, April 
 12, 1824, to Edward D. Bangs; he died April 1, 1838, and 
 his widow was married, June 2, 1856, to Stephen Salis- 
 bury; she died Sept. 25, 1864. Edward Dillingham Bangs 
 was the son of Judge Edward Bangs and Hannah (Lynde) 
 of Worcester, and grandson of Benjamin and Desire (Dil- 
 lingham) of Brewster. The first emigrant was Edward. 
 
 Doctor John Green, alluded to, was the distinguished 
 physician whose familiar figure, seated in his open gig, 
 jogging along with his head hanging to one side and covered 
 with a broad brimmed hat, is well remembered by many. 
 It used to be said that his neck was unable to support 
 upright a head so full of learning. The genial face of the 
 Doctor can be seen any day looking down from his ele- 
 vated seat in the Public Library, of which he was the 
 prime founder. Another of that name, a relative. Squire 
 Green of Green Hill, was also at one time a familiar per- 
 sonage in town. The father of a numerous family, his 
 fondness for children was not limited to his own. In the 
 winter season the appearance of his sleigh on the street 
 was the signal for every boy in sight to catch on, so that 
 speedily the horse was drawing along a mass of laughing, 
 wriggling youngsters, covering up the Squire, who enjoyed 
 the fun as much as the boys. Of his several sons, one, 
 Andrew H., has been prominent in the affairs of the city 
 of New York for many years and is spoken of as the Father 
 of Greater New York. Another, Oliver B., has had much 
 to do with the growth of the Queen City of the West. A 
 third, William N., held the office of Justice of the Police 
 Court in Worcester a long time. Another, Samuel, was 
 the lovable medical missionary to the people of Ceylon. 
 During a visit at home he saw his sisters mending stockings 
 and suggested an easier and quicker way. "How is it?" 
 they asked. With a twinkle of his eye, inherited from 
 his father, he replied, "When the article is badly worn I 
 
37 
 
 take it to the window and, throwing it out, say, 'Go, and 
 be darned you old stocking!'" 
 
 Before leaving the diary from which a portion of this 
 information is derived, a few items of historic interest 
 may be culled. 
 
 June 12, 1823. "Waldo's Meeting House raised (nick- 
 named 'Gospel Factory')." 
 
 Under date of Sept. 3, 1824, the record reads, "I was 
 introduced by Judge Lincoln to & shook hands with the 
 Marquis Lafayette. I said to him, 'May you, sir, live 
 to see all the World as free & happy as we are.' " 
 
 June 15, 1825. "Sold a bottle of Saratoga Water for 
 General Lafayette. Shook hands with Lafayette & showed 
 him a 24 p'' shot fired at Bunkers Hill." 
 
 Dec. 7, 1825. "Saw Horace Carter hung between 11 & 
 12 o'c. He was hung in the hollow east of the first hill 
 on the Boston & Wor. Turnpike; north of the Turnpike. 
 [Calvin Wlllard, Sheriff.] A great many spectators. Wor. 
 Light Infy. Company Guard." A full account of the 
 trial of Carter may be found in the JEgis and Spy of Oct. 
 12, 1825. Some one of the many buildings in that locality 
 is probably located on that fatal spot. Very few persons 
 have been hung in this place within the recollection of 
 any one of us. We hear it said occasionally that such 
 and such a one ought to be hung. It would hardly be 
 thought that the homeliest man ought to suffer such a 
 penalty, even for his ugly looks. I am reminded of this 
 incident, told me by one of the persons connected with 
 it. A teacher in one of the pubhc schools of the town 
 resigned his position at the close of a service of several 
 years. His successor was introduced to the school by a 
 member of the committee. The retiring teacher, meeting 
 one of his former pupils afterward, asked him what he 
 thought of the new teacher. He replied, "Judging by 
 his appearance he ought to have been hung long ago." 
 
 July 4, 1826. "Ex-President John Adams died." 
 
38 
 
 The 5th. "Stores closed, bells toll'd abo* 6 o'c. ev*." 
 
 The 4th. "Ex-President Thomas Jefferson died." 
 
 The 10th. "Stores closed, bells toll'd 7 o'c. ev«." 
 
 July 8, 1826. "Canal begun here." 
 
 Oct. 10, 1826. "His Ex^ the President of the U. S. 
 arrived in town." 
 
 Charles Wheeler possessed an antiquarian taste and 
 had in one room of the first house herein described a col- 
 lection of a varied nature, which he called his museum. 
 Under date of May 30, 1825, he made entry in his diary, 
 " Moved Museum to the Am antiquarian Society's building." 
 June 22, 1813, he "gave the Boston Athanaeum a U. States 
 Cent for every year from 1793 to 1812 inclusive." He 
 was instrumental in the formation of the Worcester Ly- 
 ceum of Natural History, an early meeting of the Society 
 being held "at my store," He owned a collection of 
 valuable books, as appears from a letter of President Jere- 
 miah Day of Yale College, addressed to him, under date 
 of June 1st, 1822, as follows: "Be pleased to accept my 
 thanks for the offer of access to the rare and valuable 
 collection of books in your possession. Treasures of this 
 kind are not often to be met with in this country. But 
 a taste for deep literary research seems to be springing 
 up here and there and diffusing its influence. We are 
 under peculiar obligations to such gentlemen as gener- 
 ously provide the means of facilitating original and pro- 
 found research," 
 
 It is time to bring this rambling paper to an end. I 
 have already trespassed on your patience too long. Yet 
 we would linger around the scenes and incidents connected 
 with this history, some of which have been told so im- 
 perfectly. The house which had stood for a century 
 witnessed the growth of the small town to a large city. 
 Could it have spoken how much would it have disclosed 
 of persons and things which we search for in vain! All 
 those who once made its walls echo with merriment, with 
 
39 
 
 song, with kindly greetings, with counsel and encourage- 
 ment, with high aims and noble aspirations, are gone. 
 Many of those who met within its walls bore well their 
 part in the affairs of town and state. The imaginary 
 disaster to the house of Joseph Lynde narrated in these 
 pages, became a catastrophe to this one at last, and its 
 career unfortunately was closed by fire. 
 
iUH ici I9U/ 
 
 LBFe'lO 
 
RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 OF TWO 
 
 NEW ENGLAND HOUSES. 
 
 BUILT 
 
 BY REV. JOSEPH WHEELER, OF WORCESTER. 
 
 BY HENRY M. WHEELER, 
 
 WORCESTER, MASS.