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The Jonny-Cake Papers 
 
The Jonny-Cake Papers of 
 "Shepherd Tom" 
 
 Together with 
 
 reminiscejyces of narragansett 
 schools of former days 
 
 By 
 THOMAS ROBINSON HAZARD 
 
 With a Biographical Sketch and Notes by 
 Rowland Gibson Hazard 
 
 Illustrated by Rudolph Ruzicka 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 Printed for the Subscribers 
 1915 
 
COPyRIGHT, 1915, BY ROWLAND G. HAZARD 
 
 T'^ iq\) 
 
 Ui.^ 
 
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 D. B. UPDIKE • THE MERRYMOUNT PRESS • BOSTON 
 
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 €)CI.A4 14541 
 
 m 12 19(5 
 
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Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH vii 
 
 REMINISCENCES OF NARRAGANSETT SCHOOLS OF FORMER 
 
 DAYS 1 
 
 FIRST BAKING 17" 
 
 SECOND BAKING 3 1 
 
 THIRD BAKING 40 
 
 FOURTH BAKING 49 
 
 FIFTH BAKING 64 
 
 SIXTH BAKING 76 
 
 SEVENTH BAKING 88 
 
 EIGHTH BAKING 99 
 
 NINTH BAKING 108 
 
 TENTH BAKING 123 
 
 ELEVENTH BAKING 137 
 
 TWELFTH BAKING 152 
 
 THIRTEENTH BAKING 169 
 
 FOURTEENTH BAKING 182 
 
 FIFTEENTH BAKING 197 
 
 SIXTEENTH BAKING 215 
 
 SEVENTEENTH BAKING 228 
 
 CiiiJ 
 
CONTENTS • 
 
 EIGHTEENTH BAKING 241 
 
 NINETEENTH BAKING 256 
 
 TWENTIETH BAKING 270 
 
 TWENTY-FIRST BAKING 285 
 
 TWENTY-SECOND BAKING 300 
 
 TWENTY-THIRD BAKING 318 
 
 TWENTY-FOURTH BAKING 337 
 
 TWENTY-FIFTH BAKING 35 6 
 
 TWENTY-SIXTH BAKING 372 
 
 NOTES 391 
 
 APPENDIX 407 
 
 INDEX 4 1 3 
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS 429 
 
 C iv 3 
 
Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Thomas Robinson Hazard vii" 
 
 Benny Rodman! s Horsewhip 2"^ 
 
 Riin-at Cow IS*^ 
 
 Gilbert Stuart Birthplace 17 
 
 French House Portico^ Kingston 31*^ 
 
 Phillis' Cooking Irons 39'^ 
 
 Dockray House 64*^ 
 
 Rowland Robinson House 9 1 "^ 
 
 French House^ Kingston 137^ 
 
 Ty^e Cat Inspector 139*^ 
 
 Village Street^ Kingston HC^ 
 
 Joe RunneWs Tavern^ Kingston 152^' 
 
 /oe RunneWs Stoops Kingston 168'' 
 
 Phillis 197- 
 
 Sylvia Tory 241^ 
 
 Oliver Hazard Perry 25 6 -■ 
 
 7z?/df: Hornet's Nest Company 285 '^ 
 
 Potters Cove 300 ' 
 
 Hazard Castle^ Narragansett Pier 304 ^ 
 
 C V ] 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Stairruay^ Rowland Robinson House 322 -^ 
 
 Cupboard^ Robitison House 336 v 
 
 Stout Jeffrey Hazard' s Stone 387"^ 
 
 A Map of Old Narragansett 388 ^ 
 
 [ vi : 
 
Biographical Sketch 
 
 THOMAS Robinson Hazard,* of the 
 seventh generation of Hazards in Rhode 
 Island, Shepherd Tom for short, was born on the 
 3d of January, 1797, in the house of his grand- 
 father," College Tom," standing then on the east 
 slope of Tower Hill inNarragansett.The site can 
 still be traced, but hardly one stone of the foun- 
 dation remains upon another. He died in New 
 York, March 26, 1 886. 
 
 During his long life of more than eighty-nine 
 years, he was a prolific writer, and yet literature 
 was not his profession. He was by choice a shep- 
 herd, not only of sheep, but a shepherd of men. 
 Of a generous, sympathetic nature, he was quick 
 to espouse the cause of the weak and downtrod- 
 den. He truly loved his neighbor as himself, and 
 misfortune was ever the key to his heart. Thor- 
 oughly democratic in every fibre, he only re- 
 quired to be convinced of the justice of a cause, 
 to become its vigorous supporter. For the weak 
 and defenseless he would go to any length. He 
 was often called Quixotic, and he was doubtless 
 
 * Thomas Robinson Hazard' (son of Rowland^, Thomas', Robert*, 
 Thomas', Robert*, Thomas^). 
 
 C vii] 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 somewhat hasty at times; especially is this true 
 of his more youthful jousts. 
 
 In his riper manhood, his attention was called to 
 the conditions of the insane poor, and in a report 
 upon that subject made to the legislature in 1851, 
 he forcibly depicted the desperate case of the poor 
 in the State of Rhode Island. He supplemented 
 by personal visits a searching series of questions 
 addressed to all the keepers of the poor in the 
 state, and described what he saw in vivid terms. 
 The considerable sensation aroused resulted in a 
 movement to improve the condition of the poor 
 throughout the state, wherever found. Upon this 
 report depends much of the serious consideration 
 which his fellow citizens have always accorded 
 to the memory of Shepherd Tom. 
 
 Descended from *' a self-willed race of inde- 
 pendent thinkers," he was himself a type speci- 
 men of the Snip Breed.* 
 
 Mr. Hazard made a deep impression on most 
 people who met him, and he was my favorite 
 among my granduncles. In person he favored 
 the men of his race. Six feet in his stocking feet, 
 heavily built, but not portly, he moved quietly, as 
 is the wont of very strong men. While not hand- 
 some, he was distinguished-looking, with thick, 
 
 *See Recollections of Olden Times, by Thomas R. Hazard, page 107. 
 
 [ viii 3 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 close, curly, nut-brown hair of a silky fineness. 
 Blue eyes, which pity softened and the recital 
 of the wrongs of others made steely hard, were 
 set deep under overhanging brows. As a man of 
 eighty, he wore a beard, much grizzled, and I 
 remember well his chuckling laugh, constrained, 
 almost throttled, it seemed, by a set of false teeth 
 which he feared to lose by too hearty abandon. 
 Yet it was a laugh full of real humor, and I have 
 often seen him forced to pause in the middle of 
 an amusing situation, shaking with laughter and 
 speechless, so keen was his enjoyment of the 
 picture conjured up by a memory as vivid as it 
 was accurate. His hands, though large and bony, 
 were full of character, and his dry palm and fin- 
 gers had that silky texture usually found only in 
 the very young and the old. One could easily 
 imagine such hands tenderly caring for the stray 
 lambs of his flock. 
 
 His manner of speech was somewhat blurred ; 
 it was not always easy to understand him, but no 
 doubt this was more noticeable as an old man, 
 on account of the loose set of teeth already men- 
 tioned. A story occurs to me, however, which 
 shows that Thomas, as well as his brothers, Isaac 
 and Rowland, had a fashion of rapid, indistinct 
 speech. A stranger, noticing the three tall, fine- 
 [ ix ] 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 looking young men, absorbed in debating a busi- 
 ness matter, asked, "fFhat language are they 
 talking f" 
 
 He was remarkably self-controlled, except in 
 argument, when I used to fear that personal vio- 
 lence might result. But under personal affliction, 
 and I have often seen him so, he was not only 
 wonderfully brave, but had a forced cheerful- 
 ness of manner, most pathetic to see, for no one 
 could doubt a heart so tender must be bleeding. 
 Thus, as an old man, hale and hearty, he stands 
 for the chivalrous, for the clean mind, the pure 
 heart, prompt to denounce evil, ready to acclaim 
 the good, fonder, however, oC denunciation. 
 
 It seems hardly in character that one who 
 could do such serious work as that for the poor 
 and insane should also maintain in New York a 
 Stanhope gig, a two-wheeled affair, for his per- 
 sonal use when visiting that city. He was wont to 
 stop at Bunker's Hotel, then a fashionable resort 
 in Rector Street, and his occasional visits are 
 remembered by a few as those of a bright and 
 active-minded man. His voyage to England and 
 the continental countries, about 1831 , was seldom 
 spoken of by himself, although Americans who 
 crossed the ocean in the ships of that day were 
 few in number, and. showed some enterprise. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 He was a master hand at controversy, as is 
 attested by a long list of pamphlets issued by 
 him in self-defense or to attack others. His most 
 famous case excited intense feeling in the state, 
 and led to impeachment proceedings against a 
 Chief Justice. He was always a champion of those 
 whom he considered in need of his assistance. 
 
 He was bred in the strictest school of the 
 Quakers' doctrine, and himself used the plain 
 language so long as he lived. And yet he quotes 
 three articles of faith taught "in nearly every 
 well-ordered family in Narragansett " when he 
 was a child : First, that ye love one another and 
 your neighbor a^ yourselves. Second, that ye 
 hate the Puritans of Massachusetts with a perfect 
 hatred. Third, that ye hold the Presbyterians of 
 Connecticut in like contempt. His early school- 
 ing was supplemented by three years ( August, 
 1 8o8-October 1 6, 1 8 1 1 ) at Westtown school near 
 Philadelphia, then as now under Quaker control. 
 
 There has recently come into my hands a 
 little chapbook which doubtless played its part in 
 my Uncle Tom's early education. *The book is 
 full of maxims of the sort which he practiced all 
 
 *"The Moral Instructor," prepared by John Pickbum, master of 
 the grammar school in Wainfleet, seventh edition, published in Boston 
 in 1805, is one of those collections of moral maxims and easy lessons 
 for children, intended to make reading asfileasant and easy as/iossible. 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 his life. His standards were high; and he was 
 scrupulously truthful in all important matters. 
 One of the maxims in this chapbook reads: 
 " There are lying looks as well as lying words, 
 and even a lying silence." This gem, condensed 
 from " Mrs. Opie on Lying," would have ap- 
 pealed to him strongly. 
 
 At fifteen he left school and returned to Nar- 
 ragansett, where he soon became deeply inter- 
 ested in sheep. By strenuous efforts he managed 
 to bring a part of his flock through the heavy 
 snows of the severe winters, but there is no hint 
 in his memoirs that he ever led the piping 
 shepherd's life of indolence. ^ fact, there was 
 not a lazy bone in him. He seems to have been 
 full of vigor, energetic beyond the ordinary. 
 
 In one of Shepherd Tom's pamphlets, entitled 
 "Cruelty to Dumb Animals," written in 1875, 
 he blames himself with characteristic frankness, 
 — "being engaged in an arduous branch of busi- 
 ness, and possessed of a strong constitution, 
 as well as an ardent energetic and hasty tem- 
 perament myself, I was too apt to disregard 
 the physical weaknesses and inability of others, 
 whether man or beast." 
 
 Not long after his return to his father's house, 
 he began to assist in the primitive manufactur- 
 
 C xii ] 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 ing of that early day. The woolen mills at Peace 
 Dale had been at work for ten years when our 
 Thomas Hazard left his schooling, and the part 
 he was given was to ride forth to leave rolls of 
 carded wool with spinners who spun on hand 
 wheels in their own houses. At the same time he 
 took the yarn spun since his last visit, carrying it 
 upon his pommel, to be woven in the mill. In this 
 way he came to know the whole countryside, 
 as well as all the people in it ; his minute know- 
 ledge of tradition and of the affairs of his neigh- 
 bors shows clearly in his later literary years. 
 
 In 1821 he bought ten acres of land in Rocky 
 Brook from Atjjgj^il Rodman, widow of Robert 
 Rodman, and, in the same year, he also bought 
 of Freeman P. Watson the right to erect a dam 
 and flow another ten acres. That same year 
 he built the dam and the wooden mill to house 
 one set of woolen machinery. In 1822 he bought 
 from his father, Rowland Hazard, seventy acres 
 adjoining his previous purchase from Abigail 
 Rodman. At the end of seventeen years he was 
 able to retire from business, and did so. 
 
 Of the one absorbing romance in his life, his 
 courtship and marriage of the famous beauty, 
 Frances Minturn, in 1838; of his business suc- 
 cesses, through which he gained a modest com- 
 C xiii ] 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 petence at an early age ( 43 ) ; of his settlement 
 at the beautiful Vaucluse near Newport; of his 
 life there, and the death of his adored wife and 
 five beautiful daughters, who followed each 
 other in swift succession, slight record remains. 
 
 With his marriage began his career of public 
 service. These sixteen years of married life must 
 have been his happiest years. As the children 
 grew up at Vaucluse, it was the usual thing for 
 Shepherd Tom to drive in to Meeting on First 
 Days, whither his handsome span of buckskin 
 horses used to convey the delightful daughters. 
 Afterwards girl friends would be taken back to 
 Vaucluse for the night, a tr^t fondly remem- 
 bered by some still living. 
 
 The death of Shepherd Tom's wife was the 
 pivotal event in his life. It was a blow so cruel 
 and crushing, and it fell upon a nature so gentle 
 and loving, that for years it changed his whole 
 outlook. His mental vision became suddenly 
 astigmatic. 
 
 Personally, I saw much of my uncle's grief, 
 for I attended the last rites of at least three of 
 my cousins, and helped to lay them in the family 
 burial ground on the farm at Vaucluse, after the 
 old Rhode Island custom. There was a grim 
 pathos about these occasions which impressed 
 [ xiv ] 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 me mightily. Uncle Thomas would often chide 
 those who were in open grief, if he noticed red 
 eyes or swollen, by saying something of that 
 happy state to which death had called his child, 
 and urging us to be more cheerful. So he sought 
 to hide his own grief. So clear was his belief in 
 the future life that it is quite possible he really 
 felt fewer pangs than the ordinary selfish nature, 
 which grieves for the loss of those who minister 
 to us. His was surely an unselfish soul. 
 
 So strong was his dread of cant, that he never, 
 so far as I can remember, had any clergy in at- 
 tendance, but chose rather to have a prayer put 
 up by one of his own blood. Neither did he ever 
 permit a paid undertaker to be in charge. 
 
 He turned to Spiritualism for comfort when 
 his wife died, and records his devotion to that 
 cult, saying that he "has no higher ambition 
 than that his name should be handed down to 
 the coming generations''* as a worker in the 
 cause of Spiritualism. 
 
 To this sore and wounded soul came the 
 plundering host of so-called "Spirit mediums," 
 whose liberal patron he became. His advocacy 
 of this cult was thoroughly sincere, as one would 
 expect. Whatever he did, he did with all his 
 
 * Recollections of Olden Times, page 192. 
 C XV] 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 might. His writings enumerate the names of all 
 the well-known and many obscure mediums of 
 his time. He quarreled on the subject withGeorge 
 William Curtis. He believed in Henry Slade and 
 his magic slate writing, Mrs, Cushman, one Gor- 
 don, Charles H. Foster, Mrs. Seaver,Mrs. Mary 
 Andrews of Moravia, — but why record the 
 names long since forgotten.^ He honored them 
 all as honest men and women. He could not 
 think them other than himself. Once, while vexed 
 at my persistent doubt, he handed me one-half 
 of a stage moustache, such as actors often use, 
 saying he had it from the spirit of an Indian who 
 "materialized "for him at a recent "seance." He 
 had told this Indian spirit that he never had 
 seen him wear a moustache before ; on which the 
 brazen impersonator had pulled off this half, 
 and handed it to him, saying, "There 's a nut for 
 you to crack." Even this did not shake his faith 
 a particle. 
 
 Mr. Hazard was proud of his ancestry, and be- 
 came a genealogist of sorts, printing a "Gene- 
 alogy of the Family of Hazard or Hassard " in 
 connection with his delightful " Recollections of 
 Olden Times," pubhshed at Newport, in 1879. 
 Genealogies of the Robinson and Sweet families 
 also appeared in this collection. 
 [ xvi ] 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 It is noteworthy that the quaint reminiscences 
 recorded in the"Jonny-Cake Papers" hark back 
 to the early days in Narragansett. Hardly any 
 mention is made of the school at Westtown, 
 Pennsylvania, where he was given all the school- 
 ing he ever had. His brief, but strenuous, busi- 
 ness life gave him personal acquaintance with 
 the group of worthies on Little Rest Hill. 
 
 A series of papers afterward collected under 
 the title "A Constitutional Manual; Negro Slav- 
 ery and the Constitution," published two years 
 after his wife's death (1856), takes as model 
 Washington's Farewell Address. It is an impas- 
 sioned plea for the preservation of the Union, 
 and clearly points out in prophetic vein the in- 
 evitable evils of the Reconstruction period. He 
 undertakes to set out " an authentic narrative of 
 outrages, wrongs, and cruelties equally numer- 
 ous and atrocious as those detailed in 'Uncle 
 Tom's Cabin' out of the abuses occurring within 
 the last thirty years in the asylums and poor- 
 houses in Rhode Island alone." Throughout this 
 pamphlet runs a strong religious tone, but 
 Jesuits and their ways are fiercely denounced. 
 In his later writings denunciation takes full pos- 
 session, and supplants religion in his mind; in 
 fact, it became a religion, negative yet positive. 
 t xvii ] 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 The "Providence Journal" in 1878 said of 
 him that he had rendered four distinguished ser- 
 vices. First, his labors in behalf of the poor and 
 insane. Second, his successful campaign against 
 capital punishment. Third, his earnest advocacy 
 and munificent support of African colonization. 
 Fourth, his originating the movement in this 
 country to relieve the Irish famine, concluding, 
 *' No one who knows him doubts the earnestness 
 of his convictions, or the purity of his personal 
 character, and he carries his years as lightly as 
 a man of fifty." 
 
 As Shepherd Tom lay a dying, he said," I fear 
 I 'm better, and am sorry, for I 'm eager to begin 
 the new life." 
 
 So much may be said, yet there remains much 
 more which must be left unsaid. Upon the back 
 of the portrait of himself given me at the time 
 of writing the " Jonny-Cake Papers," he wrote 
 in his clear, rugged hand, " To my dear Cousin," 
 a Shakespearean use of the term, still common 
 among Friends. 
 
 As such I delight to think of him, and I expect 
 to meet him on that further shore. If he chides 
 me gently for this writing, as is not unlikely, I 
 shall tell him that I have tried to do a filial duty. 
 As he himself never shrank from duty, he will 
 C xviii ] 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 forgive this faulty sketch, and I trust his kinsfolk 
 will be equally kind. 
 
 It is not unlikely that Shepherd Tom would 
 be not only surprised but perhaps a little cha- 
 grined to think that the republication of his 
 "Jonny-Cake Papers" has furnished the mov- 
 ing cause for this brief note upon his life and 
 writings, for it is distinctly remembered that he 
 regarded them as a mere amusement. 
 
 The origin of these papers is just what it 
 appears to be from the quotation taken from 
 the Providence Journal at the head of the " first 
 baking." The Journal's challenge, evidently is- 
 sued in a friendly spirit, happened to fall under 
 his eye at the psychological moment. 
 
 The first paper was so favorably commented 
 upon, and so many of his friends urged him to 
 finish what he had begun, that he was easily led 
 on through the whole series, which appeared at 
 somewhat irregular intervals through a period 
 of about two years. The whimsical style adopted 
 naturally led along a path whose branches are 
 legion. To some this is undoubtedly rather an 
 annoyance than otherwise, but the general favor 
 with which the papers were received made him 
 one of the popular authors of the moment. 
 
 The original form in which these papers were 
 C xix ^ 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 reprinted was in two pamphlets, twelve "bak- 
 ings" in the first, and fourteen with a supple- 
 ment in the second. There were two editions 
 in this early reprint, both published by the in- 
 defatigable Sidney S. Rider of Providence. Both 
 have been out of print for many years. 
 
 In arranging the present republication, the 
 supplement is placed first as an introduction 
 to the main body of the book. Dealing as it 
 does with the Narragansett schools, it seems to 
 deserve to lead. Moreover, it is one of the most 
 admired specimens of Shepherd Tom's discur- 
 sive style. 
 
 Special thanks are due to Mrs. Hiram F. Hunt 
 for the loan of the portrait of the Witch, Sylvia 
 Tory, by Mrs. Samuel Rodman of Rocky Brook, 
 from which the drawing was made. 
 
 To Thomas G. Hazard, Jr., also, thanks are 
 rendered, as without his special knowledge and 
 careful work the map presented with this edi- 
 tion could not have been drawn. Acknowledg- 
 ments are due to Mr. Dexter W. Hoxie,who has 
 read the proofs with the greatest care and in- 
 telligence, and to Miss Edith Carpenter, to whom 
 the completeness of the Index is largely due. 
 
 ROWLAND GIBSON HAZARD 
 
 Of the Ninth Generation in Peace Dale 
 
Reminiscences of Narragansett Schools 
 of Former Days 
 
Reminiscences of Narragansett 
 Schools of Former Days 
 
 SOME fifty years and more ago, I used to hear a 
 good deal said about three old Masters who kept 
 schools in a district including Boston Neck, Point Ju- 
 dith, and the country lying around Tower and Mac- 
 Sparren hills in South Kingstown, Rhode Island. I do 
 not know how their names were spelled, but they were 
 severally pronounced — Masters Kelly ^ Ridge, and 
 Slaurter. From all I have heard, they must have been 
 men of original character, and not only liberally edu- 
 cated in letters, but well cultured in what pertains to 
 the amenities of social life. They were, in fact, all Irish 
 gentlemen who, I think it probable, had left their na- 
 tive country for political reasons. They associated on 
 equal terms with the gentry of the neighborhood, whose 
 children they taught ; and I have thought that both the 
 manners, and independent, self-reliant tone of char- 
 acter that so distinguished the bygone generation of 
 men and women in South Kingstown, were greatly in- 
 fluenced (apart from the mere routine of book learning) 
 by their daily intercourse, when children, with these 
 accomplished and liberal-minded men. 
 
 There used to be many anecdotes told illustrative 
 of the peculiar characters and manners of these Irish 
 school-masters. I remember hearing old Benjamin 
 (pronounced Benny) Rodman (who once owned a grist- 
 mill on Saukatucket river, at what is now called Peace 
 Dale, who died more than fifty years ago, at his home- 
 stead that stood where J. Newbold Hazard's house now 
 
 c 1 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 stands) say that his parents sent him one morning to 
 old Master Ridge's school, which was kept in a small 
 school-house that stood on a little knoll on the east side 
 of the old road leading to Little Rest (now Kingston), 
 between Elisha Watson's and Jerry Knowles' corner, 
 and just south of the gate opposite the old homestead 
 of the late Jimmy and John Sherman. The old man told 
 me that he felt so queer when Master Ridge called him 
 up to say his letters that he could not repeat A after 
 him, whereupon the awful old school-master opened 
 his eyes so wide at him that he was frightened out of 
 his wits, and run all the way home, nor could he be 
 prevailed upon to go to school again. And yet, with this 
 limited school learning, there was not, lam bold to say, 
 a better citizen, a more honest and truthful man, in all 
 Rhode Island than "old Benny Rodman ^^"^ whose, sole 
 recorded memorial, within my knowledge, is a big 
 buttonwood tree now standing in the west end of the 
 Peace Dale mill-dam, called ' ' old Benny\s horsewhips ' ' 
 which, according to tradition, grew from a twig he 
 stuck into the mud when a boy, after having used it 
 for the purpose indicated. He died when over ninety, 
 without an enemy on earth, nor do I think he ever, in 
 all his life, wilfully injured or maliciously deceived a 
 single man, nor woman either, except in one dubious 
 instance, wherein the most captious stickler for truth 
 could hardly find it in his heart to severely condemn 
 him. This occurred as follows: Old Benny Rodman's 
 wife died at an advanced age, leaving in charge of her 
 husband seven full-grown daughters, whose charms 
 may be the better understood, perhaps, when I repeat 
 what I heard the ferryman between Groton and New- 
 
 c 2 ] 
 
REMINISCENCES 
 
 London say when I was passing over the river Thames, 
 some sixty years ago, viz.: That "the most grandest 
 sight he ever seed in his life was the seven darters of old 
 Benny Rodman all sitting in a half moon round their 
 father's kitchen fire at wonst.'''' 
 
 About this time there chanced to be living some one 
 mile or so south-west of Little Rest Hill a widow Bab- 
 cock (mother of the late Jonathan Babcock), who owned 
 a grist-mill that stood on the site afterwards occupied 
 by the Narragansett cotton factory . One bright summer 
 morning old Benny's daughters were greatly astonished 
 on beholding their father place a bushel of corn on his 
 old mare's back, and after giving positive orders not to 
 start the mill on "no account" till his return, mount 
 and ride oifonthe road leading to Little Best Hill, which 
 was three miles or more away. Some hours after he 
 came back with a bushel of meal, which he emptied 
 into the meal chest, and then, without saying a word, 
 went down and started his mill. 
 
 A day or two after it got noised about that on this 
 occasion old Benny proceeded to the widow Babcock' s 
 mill, and after turning his grist of corn into the hopper, 
 he told the mill-boy that he would just step up to the 
 house, where it seems he found the widow all alone, but 
 sitting near the kitchen door, so that a little negro boy, 
 en/ant terrible ^ heard through a crack all that was said. 
 After asking the widow, "How dost thou do?" and 
 learning from her that she was "pretty smart," the 
 smitten swain put the question honestly and plumbly: 
 " Wouldst thou be free to change thy situation in life 
 and swap thy name for Rodman? " to all of which the 
 widow replied, "that she was sorry he had put him- 
 
 c 3 : 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 self to the trouble of coming so far on such an errand, 
 as she was not free in her mind to do the thing he pro- 
 posed;" whereupon the rejected lover rejoined that no 
 harm had been done, as his oxvn mill not being runnings 
 he thought he would take a grist to her mill, and while 
 it was grinding just step up to the house and learn her 
 mind on the subject he had proposed, which was spoken 
 pretty much in accordance with the literal truth, but 
 still no doubt with the object of deceiving. Be this as 
 it may, the crime, I think, could not have lain very 
 heavy on the old man's conscience, as I have heard 
 my mother say that in answer to an inquiry from her, 
 made a day or two before his death, as to how he felt 
 in regard to his passing away, he cheerfully replied, 
 "as the saying is, 'as easy as an old shoe.' " 
 
 Old Thomas B. Hazard ("Nailer Tom"), a man 
 of infinite anecdote^ used to tell a characteristic story 
 of old Master Slauter, who was especially noted for 
 his unvarying politeness and good breeding on all oc- 
 casions. Fox-hunting was one of the pastimes in which 
 the gentry of those days greatly delighted. One was to 
 come off (I think) at old Rowland Brown's — who lived 
 in a splendid mansion for those days, situated on Tower 
 Hill, at the junction of the two roads leading north and 
 east, which house I remember when it was in good 
 repair. In the evening, after the chase, it was usual for 
 the host to furnish his guests with a substantial sup- 
 per, and it was in connection with this repast that 
 Brown and his waggish friends proposed to put Mas- 
 ter Slauter's good breeding to the severest test. After 
 a hard day's ride, the wearied huntsmen returned to 
 Mr. Brown's with appetites that illy brooked delay, 
 
 c 4 : 
 
REMINISCENCES 
 
 and after a season were conducted by mine host to 
 supper, when lo and behold, nothing but a huge Indian 
 bran pudding and a can of molasses appeared on the 
 table. Mr. Brown apologized to his guests and espe- 
 cially to Master Slauter, whom he seated at his right 
 hand, for the meagreness of the fare, which he attrib- 
 uted to unforeseen accidents. To all of which, as often 
 as repeated, Master Slauter with his usual urbanity 
 bowed and replied, "Very good, Mr. Brown, very 
 good indeed," endeavoring to suit his action to his 
 words by licking his spoon and occasionally forcing 
 down a morsel of the unsavory mess. After the old gen- 
 tleman's patience was thought to have been sufficiently 
 tried, without eliciting the least sign of dissatisfaction 
 on his part, the host gave orders to bring in the roast 
 turkeys and other luxurious edibles, to which, after 
 Master Slauter had been bountifully helped, he applied 
 himself, prefaced with the remark addressed to mine 
 host with a courteous smile, ' 'A very great addition 
 to the supper, Mr. Brown." 
 
 After this class of school- masters had passed away, 
 a new set came forward in Narragansett, who, with- 
 out much pretension to polite training or extraordinary 
 literary attainments, had an irregular, rugged method 
 of teaching scarce less effective in some respects than 
 that of their progenitors. The first school I ever at- 
 tended was kept by Master Robert Noyes in a small 
 school-house, that is yet standing, on the east side of 
 the old post-road, on Tower Hill, which was built in 
 the last century by funds contributed in part by will 
 of John Case. Squire Case's house formerly stood, as 
 I remember well, on the extreme east side of the vil- 
 
 C 5 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 lage, with the old Hull and Andrew Nichols house to 
 the west of it, and nearly opposite to the old Chief Jus- 
 tice James Helme house that is still standing on the 
 north side of the road leading to Newport via the South 
 Ferry. Squire Case was a particular friend of Doctor 
 Benjamin Franklin, who always made it a point to stop 
 a night with him on his periodical journeyings by the 
 post-road from Boston to Philadelphia. Through Mas- 
 ter Noyes' peculiar methods of teaching "the young 
 idea how to shoot," I think I may be indebted for the 
 extirpation in the bud of several youthful faults that 
 might not have been suppressed or reached by the more 
 refined system of education that is practiced in the com- 
 mon schools of the present day. 
 
 Master Noyes was a perfect adept in ruler exercise, 
 in which he seemed to take great delight. There was 
 a tradition in the school, that some of the scholars, hav- 
 ing in days past learned that the crossing of two hairs 
 on the palm of the hand was sure to split a wooden 
 ruler, it prompted Master Noyes to the discovery and 
 use of one made by nailing a piece of sole leather some 
 eight or ten inches long firmly to a wooden handle. 
 When Master Noyes was swinging this instrument, 
 he always seemed in glory, and that he might not lack 
 subjects on which to show forth his power and skill, 
 he deputized a big boy named Gust Tifft (whom the 
 Devil take if he has not already got him, and keep him 
 if he has), whose business it was to pounce upon any 
 hapless wight who removed his eyes from his book, 
 very much as a spider might on a fly , and drag such up 
 to Master Noyes' seat, where they were sure to have 
 more or less heavy strokes laid on their left hands, the 
 
 [6] 
 
REMINISCENCES 
 
 right hand being spared for fear its mutilation might 
 interfere with the writing lessons. 
 
 I remember that I had a bad practice of stuffing my 
 jacket pockets full of almost everything that came in 
 my way. One afternoon Master Noyes called me from 
 my seat and made me unload and lay every individual 
 article as I took them out in rows on a bench in sight 
 of all the school. I do not remember, probably, the half 
 of what the contents were, but I recollect a part of those 
 taken from the right pocket, viz.: One bunch of hair 
 pulled from Deacon Brown's old horse's tail, to make 
 snares of for quails; two rusty board nails; one shingle 
 nail; two small eels, which I caught in Indian run; 
 three live crabs, got in Narrow river; a piece of beef- 
 steak, left from my dinner; one pin hook; one white- 
 faced bumble-bee; four tadpoles; and one bottom fish; 
 besides several other items. When I saw all these things 
 arranged side by side, and everybody looking and 
 snickering, especially Sally Brown (who I was court- 
 ing), I felt so kind of streaked that I made up my mind 
 that I would never stuff my pockets so full of such 
 things again just so long as I lived, and I never have. 
 I will just here remark that " tadpole " was ever after 
 my nick-name at Noyes' school. I well remember, too, 
 at one noon time of wetting my breeches way up above 
 my knees wading after bottom fish in old Miss Dyer's 
 run. Miss Dyer was a connection as I have heard of 
 the husband of Mrs. Mary Dyer that the pious Puri- 
 tans of Boston hanged on Boston Common, because she 
 said thee and thou^ or was guilty of some like offense. 
 She lived in a house yet standing a furlong or so south 
 of the village on the east side of the old post-road, a fur- 
 
 C 7 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 long or so north of the old Bull house. When I went 
 into school, master called me up and made me take off 
 my breeches and hang them up to dry just back of 
 the school-house on old Miss Nichols' clothes-line. I 
 thought then thati would never again wet my breeches 
 wading after bottom fish, and to this day I never have. 
 When I came back. Master Noyes told me to take a 
 seat with black Suke Watson on one side of me and 
 yaller Bet Hawkins on the other. Now black Suke had 
 a spite against me because I once smooched her face 
 with lamp-black, such as is used for marking sheep, 
 which made a sort of dingy whitish-looking streak on 
 her right cheek, whilst Bet had always been mad with 
 me from the day I beguiled her into old Stephen Hull's 
 orchard, and by dint of coaxing and kissing, got her 
 to hold still while I sawed with a dull case-knife nearly 
 all the hair close off one side her head. As I sat with 
 each eye a little askance, I could perceive that yaller 
 Bet was snickering at me, whilst at the same moment 
 black Suke slily stuck a pin half an inch into the lower 
 and hinder part of my bare right hip. This made me 
 jump clean out off my seat, when in an instant Gust 
 TifFt, who had been watching his chance, because he 
 also held a grudge against me for nick-naming him 
 
 Spider, ' ' sprang over the benches, seizing me by the 
 neck, dragged me up to Master Noyes, for, as he said, 
 looking off my lesson. For some reason Master Noyes 
 did not ferule me that time, but told me to stand up in 
 front of his desk and study my lesson, without once 
 taking my eyes off. 
 
 Now it so happened that my shirt was very short, 
 and my jacket shorter still, whilst both my hands were 
 
 C 8 1 
 
REMINISCENCES 
 
 required to keep my old dog-eared broken-back'd 
 spelling primer in place, and hold fast to my thumb 
 papers, which were always used in those days, when 
 books were both scarce and dear, and there were no 
 rings formed as now to furnish new ones every school 
 term. This, as the reader must see, put me in a most 
 pitiable plight, and necessitated me to exhibit to the 
 whole school all the nether parts of my person in their 
 native state of nudity. To say that I felt kind of queer, 
 does not express a tythe of my feelings. In fact, I felt 
 so desperately ashamed that I resolved, from that mo- 
 ment, I would never again smooch a black gaV s cheek 
 with a marking stick, nor cut a yaller gal's hair off 
 with a dull case-knife, nor nick-name a school jackall 
 "spider," so long as I lived, and as yet I never have. 
 Glad indeed was I when school was let out, and Master 
 Noyes told me to get my breeches and go home. 
 
 But now I found that my troubles had but just 
 begun. As I was hanging my wet breeches on old 
 Miss Nichols' clothes-line to dry, I thought I saw Jim 
 Case peeking at me from the other side of the stone- 
 wall, where he was making believe work in his grand- 
 mother's garden. It did not, however, occur to me that 
 he meditated any mischief against me. Now Jim was 
 considered by all the school-boys and girls to be a very 
 bad fellow. Bob and {Stringer) Bill Brown ^ Sam Helme 
 and Ol. Perry (who afterwards whipped the British 
 on Lake Erie) , and the other big boys that could lick 
 Jim in a fight, used to call him " Sea Clam," because 
 he had so big a mouth, which reached from ear to ear. 
 Now it happened that Jim had held for some time a 
 grudge against me, which originated after this wise : 
 
 C 9 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 I had carried with me one morning to school, a big 
 scarlet gilliflower, which I showed to some of the boys, 
 Jim Case among others. He at once asked me for a 
 bite. I looked at his mouth and told him I was afraid 
 he would take too big a bite. He promised that he would 
 not take more than half a bite, and I let him shut his 
 teeth on my apple. Instead of taking only halj a bite as 
 he promised, Jim took into his big mouth half of my 
 gilliflower. I said nothing, but made up my mind that 
 I would before long get even with Jim Case. So I got 
 another big gilliflower, and cut out a plug from one 
 side, and filled the hole nearly full with red pepper. I 
 covered this with the outer part of the plug so nicely 
 fitted that the apple looked as sound and whole as be- 
 fore. I took the apple with me to school, and at noon 
 sauntered with it in my hand over to Jim's, and asked 
 him to lend me his scoop net to go a crabbing with at 
 Narrow (Pettaquamscutt) river the next Saturday. Jim 
 spied my big apple and said, "Gimme a bite." I 
 reminded him how he had cheated me before, upon 
 which he promised, by Samson and Goliath, that he 
 would not serve me so again, and, moreover, he de- 
 clared that unless I would give him another bite of my 
 apple he would not lend me his crab net. I had now 
 got Jim where I wanted him, as I knew he would take 
 as big a bite as he could. Suflice to say, he opened his 
 mouth so that his head w^as more than half oflT, and 
 with his great jaws took in a full half of my apple and 
 all of the red pepper. As I run away with the smaller 
 half in my hand, I looked over my shoulder and saw 
 Jim shaking his fist at me and mumbling "you bet." 
 He was very mad, and would have said more only the 
 
 c 1° 1 
 
REMINISCENCES 
 
 red pepper wouldn't let him. I afterwards learned that 
 just after I left my breeches on Miss Nichols' clothes- 
 line to dry, Jim Case sneaked over the wall and snatched 
 them away, and hid them under a big gooseberry bush 
 in the Case's garden. As it was, I had to make my way 
 home without my breeches, which, to avoid as much as 
 possible being seen, I did by cross-lots, in one of which 
 (the Gould lot), as I hasted along, I espied behind a 
 bunch of bushes Wilson Pollock's old run-at cow, just 
 as I was about half way across the lot. I run for life, 
 you may depend, for I saw the old sarpent look my 
 way in seeming wonder for a few moments, and then 
 toss her head and tail in the air, and make furiously 
 for me at the top of her speed. Luckily, however, I 
 reached the dividing wall, and just made out to get 
 over it by help of a boost from the old cow's right 
 horn, which landed me on the other side in the mid- 
 dle of a great bunch of bull blackberry briars, which 
 scratched my bare legs so that they bled all over. As 
 I hurried along a bright idea entered my mind in con- 
 nection with the old run-at cow, should other resources 
 fail me. My plan was to get around to my grand- 
 mother's window before anybody saw me, when I 
 knew all would be made right, as I was her especial 
 pet. But this plan was frustrated by the following cir- 
 cumstance: There lived in my father's family a col- 
 ored boy by the name of Abram. His mother was a 
 Spanish mulatto by the name of Rit. No one could tell 
 exactly who his father was, but those who knew him 
 best said he was a son of the Devil's begetting. As I 
 came down the lane with gingerly pace, I was horror- 
 stricken by seeing Abe standing in the wash-room door 
 
 c 11 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 looking towards me with eyes standing in wonderment, 
 at least two inches out of his head. When this imp 
 of Satan recognized me, he roared out at the top of his 
 hideous chuckle^ "Why, here comes Massa Tommy 
 down the lane with his breeches off! " This brought 
 everybody in the house to the back door, and in an- 
 swer to my mother's and grandmother's inquiries, why 
 I came home in such strange plight, I resorted to the 
 fable I had been forming in my mind, and told them 
 that Neighbor Pollock's old run-at cow chased me so 
 hard that I was forced to run out of my breeches to get 
 away from her. My story did not, however, stand cross- 
 examination and I was finally forced to acknowledge, 
 much to the grief of my best friends, that I had re- 
 course to falsehood in the vain attempt to cover up the 
 real facts of my humiliating case. 
 
 I played truant all the next day in company with 
 Niles Gardiner, who got mad because Master Noyes 
 threatened to whip him for breaking down the widow 
 Brown's young pear tree in the door yard in front of 
 her house. In the meanwhile my father had taken Abe 
 with him to bring his horse back from Franklin's 
 ferry (now South ferry) on his way to Newport. In 
 coming home that precious limb of Satan got to Tower 
 Hill (as he had no doubt planned) just as the forenoon 
 school was let out, and he soon had every boy and girl 
 around him listening to his version of my adventures, 
 which doubtless lost nothing of their significance in 
 his telling. 
 
 On the next day I was forced, very much against 
 my will, to go to school again, and no sooner did I 
 show myself, than all the boys and girls shouted as 
 
 C '2 ] 
 
REMINISCENCES 
 
 loud as they could, "Why, here comes Tadpole Tom, 
 that Wilson Pollock's old run-at cow chased out of 
 his breeches." To tell the truth, I was so thoroughly 
 cow'd and dumbfounded by my misfortunes that I 
 could hardly say boo to a goose, and I know not what 
 would have been the results, if my father had not prov- 
 identially just at that time arranged to send myself 
 and elder brother to old Elisha Thornton's boarding- 
 school in Smithfield, where neither Abe nor the story 
 of the breeches and run-at cow ever followed me. Once 
 away, I solemnly determined to profit by my misfor- 
 tunes, and resolved never again to try and get even 
 with a bad boy like Jim Case, nor in any dilemma, 
 however grievous, resort to falsehood to sustain myself. 
 In looking over the foregoing narrative I find that 
 the leading facts, on which others are claimed to be 
 founded, are all correct, and as a whole, I believe it 
 will compare, in point of veracity, with the general 
 tenor of history, whether ancient or modern, sacred or 
 profane. 
 
 
 C 13 J 
 
The Jonny-Cake Papers 
 
kT Qil^ei"t Stuart 'birthplace .-^^^ 
 
 First Baking 
 
 "White Indian meal is very nice, as all Rhode Islanders know, 
 but we should like to ask Thomas R. Hazard how much his 
 cost him in his farming days ? Providence Journal^ January 16, 
 1879. 
 
 AND where, let me ask in turn, did the Journal 
 jlV learn that white Indian meal is very nice? Not 
 certainly outside of Washington and Newport coun- 
 ties, for nowhere else on the globe was the real article 
 ever to be found.; The Southern epicures crack a good 
 deal about hoe-cakes and hominy made from their 
 white flint corn, the Pennsylvanians of their mush, k 
 the Boston folks of their Boston brown bread, whilst 
 one Joel Barlow, of New Haven, or somewhere else in 
 Connecticut, used to sing a long song in glorification 
 of New England hasty pudding; but none of these 
 reputed luxuries are worthy of holding a candle to an 
 old-fashioned Narragansett jonny-cake made by an 
 C 17] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 old-time Narragansett colored cook, from Indian corn 
 meal raised on the southern coast of Rhode Island, the 
 fabled Atlantis, where alone the soft, balmy breezes 
 from the Gulf Stream ever fan the celestial plant in 
 its growth, and impart to the grain that genial soft- 
 ness, that tempting fragrance and delicious flavor, that 
 caused the Greeks of old to bestow upon Narragansett 
 corn meal the name of Ambrosia, imagining it to be 
 a food originally designed and set apart by the gods 
 exclusively for their own delectation. 
 
 But alas, since the introduction of coal fires, cook- 
 ing stoves, common schools, and French and Irish be- 
 deviling cooks, the making and baking of ajonny-cake 
 has become one of the lost arts . And yet I can remem- 
 ber when its preparation and completion deservedly 
 stood at the very acme of the fine arts of Rhode Island. 
 My grandfather used to have in his kitchen an old 
 cook by the name of Phillis, originally from Senegam- 
 bia, or Guinea, who probably made as good a jonny- 
 cake in her day as any other artist known, whether 
 white or black, or in short, as was ever made outside 
 of heaven. Her process, so far as I could gather from 
 observation, was as follows: — premising that she al- 
 ways insisted on having white Narragansett corn, 
 ground at what is now called Hammond's Mill, which 
 is situated on the site of the elder Gilbert Stuart's snuflf 
 mill, just above the head of Pettaquamscutt pond or lake. 
 
 Nor could Phillis be induced by any persuasion to 
 touch meal ground at any other mill, for the reason, 
 as she averred, that the mills in the more immediate 
 vicinity made harsh feeling round meal, whereas that 
 particular mill made soft feeling flat meal. I may per- 
 
 C 18 ] 
 
FIRST BAKING 
 
 haps just as well here digress to say that there are no 
 other mill-stones on earth that will grind corn meal fit 
 for a genuine jonny-cake, except those made from the 
 Narragansett granite rock, most of which is of a pe- 
 culiarly fine grain, varying, however, in quality, from 
 which arose the distinction of round and flat meal. For 
 instance, the mill-stones at Coon's old mill, now Wake- 
 field, being coarse grained, made round meal, and for 
 that reason amateurs in jonny-cakes, who lived within 
 a few rods only of that mill, used to tote their grists on 
 their shoulders, or on horseback, way off" to Hammond's 
 or Mumford's mills, some eight to twelve miles dis- 
 tant, where the grain of the mill-stones, being of a finer 
 grade, made the flat meal. The idea that a burr stone 
 can grind meal even out of the best of Rhode Island 
 white corn, that an old-fashioned Narragansett pig 
 would not have turned up his nose at in disgust, is 
 perfectly preposterous. Rushed through the stones in 
 a stream from the hopper as big as your arm, and 
 rolled over and over in its passage, the coarse, uneven, 
 half- ground stuff" falls into the meal box below, hot as 
 ashes and as tasteless as sawdust. I am sure it would 
 have done the Journal's heart good to have stood by 
 and watched the proceedings of an old-fashioned Nar- 
 ragansett miller, after he had turned the grist he, the 
 Journal, had just brought on his back to be ground. 
 The object of the miller then was not to see how much 
 corn he could run through his mill in a given time, but 
 how well he could grind it, let the time required to do 
 it be what it might ! See the white-coated old man now 
 first rub the meal, as it falls, carefully and thoughtfully 
 between his fingers and thumb, then graduate the feed 
 
 [ 19 : 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 and raise or lower the upper stone, with that nice sense 
 of adjustment, observance, and discretion that a Raphael 
 might be supposed to exercise in the mixing and grind- 
 ing of his colors for a Madonna, or a Canova in put- 
 ting the last touch of his chisel to the statue of a god, 
 until, by repeated handling, he had found the ambro- 
 sia to have acquired exactly the desired coolness and 
 flatness — the result of its being cut into fine slivers 
 by the nicely-balanced revolving stones — rather than 
 rolled, re-rolled, tumbled, and mumbled over and over 
 again, until all its life and sweetness had been vitiated 
 or dispelled. 
 
 I used to be told when I was a boy, how old Benny 
 Rodman, whose button wood horsewhip may now be 
 seen growing in the mill-dam at Peace Dale, just a 
 few steps from the north-west corner of where his 
 grist mill then stood, used to turn his bushel of grist 
 in the hopper of an afternoon, and after graduating 
 the mill-stones so as to make flat-fine-nice-cool meal, 
 walk leisurely to Tower Hill, two miles away, where 
 he would take tea with the widow Brown and do an 
 hour's courting, and then return in time to turn up 
 another grist before the other was all out of the hopper. 
 And this was the kind of meal that since my remem- 
 brance used to be carried by the farmers of Narragan- 
 sett and sold in the Newport market, in preference to 
 selling their corn at the same price, for the reason that 
 a cent or two per bushel was gained by the difference 
 of weight, allowed by law between the two, over and 
 above the two quarts taken for toll per bushel. Now in 
 the same market the farmer gets seventy cents per 
 bushel for his corn, and the consumer pays to the 
 
 C 20 ] 
 
FIRST BAKING 
 
 grocer at the rate of more than twice that price, thirty- 
 five to forty cents per peck, for the meal into which 
 it is ground, to remedy which evil a strike for higher 
 wages is all that seems to occur to the mind of the 
 mechanic and laborer who purchase by the pound, 
 neatly put up in paper bags, delivered at their door 
 in a two-hundred dollar wagon drawn by a three- 
 hundred dollar horse, and driven by a young common 
 school memory educated scion of some honest farmer, 
 who has been taught to despise the agricultural call- 
 ing of his fathers, to ape the manners and reckless ex- 
 penditure of snobbery, and to suppose that the chief 
 end and aim of life consists in sporting a shoddy suit 
 of dandy clothes, driving a fast horse, and smoking 
 daily half a dozen ten-cent cigars, to say nothing of 
 the inevitable allowance of beer and bitters. Since 
 my remembrance, mechanics and laborers, after their 
 twelve hours day's work was done, used to take their 
 own meal bag to the common market on Ferry wharf 
 in Newport, purchase a bushel of most delicious In- 
 dian meal fresh from Hammond's or Mumford's or 
 Clark's mills, for seventy cents, a little over or under, 
 tote it home on their backs, and pour it into that long 
 inherited heirloom, the family meal chest. Now with 
 corn at the same price as then, men and striplings go 
 loafing after their ten hours make believe day's work 
 is done, and leave it for the grocer to send their family 
 meal at more than twice the price the farmer gets for 
 the corn from which it is ground, and then wonder 
 why it is that with the wages of former times more 
 than doubled, they find it so difficult to provide for their 
 wives and children. 
 
 C 21 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Let me here say that I have been practically and 
 thoroughlyconversant with the wages of labor in Rhode 
 Island, the price of products, and the cost of living for 
 more than sixty years, and I can aver without fear of 
 my asseveration being disputed, that never within that 
 period has there been a time when the wages of labor 
 would purchase so many of the necessaries, comforts, 
 and luxuries of life as at this blessed present moment. 
 A man's day's work will now buy, if wisely applied, 
 full twice what it would fifty years ago, whilst a wo- 
 man's will purchase, of an average of her ordinary 
 expenditures, from three to five times, and of the most 
 essential articles of clothing more than twelve times 
 as much as it would within the reach of my memory. 
 In fact, I have myself hired hundreds of young wo- 
 men at periods when it required full four weeks of their 
 earnings to purchase ten yards of calico. Now the same 
 amount of a young lady's time will purchase two 
 hundred and fifty yards of prints and calico of equal 
 or better quality. If the same thrift, though tfulness, and 
 frugality prevailed now that did half a century ago, 
 every healthy and industrious family might, without 
 depriving themselves of a single comfort of life they 
 now partake of, acquire a competence in ten years. But 
 then they must cease living out of grocers' tin cans, 
 ornamental packages, and paper bags ! nor must they 
 purchase sour flour and alum made in loaf shape at 
 ten cents per pound — or at the rate of thirty dollars 
 per barrel for flour and water — when they can buy 
 purer flour for one-fifth that price. So, too, the young 
 women, I beg pardon, I should say the young ladies, 
 must spend less of their time in the perusal of dime 
 C 22 ] 
 
FIRST BAKING 
 
 novels and drumming on the "Piany," and devote 
 more of their attention to household duties and the 
 baking of jonny-cakes, which brings me back to 
 Phillis' old-fashioned mode of practicing that sublime 
 art. 
 
 As I said before, after Phillis had taken from the 
 family meal chest her modicum of meal ground at 
 Hammond's Mill, which brings suddenly to my mind 
 a circumstance that occurred some few years ago, 
 which I will digress a moment to relate. Some few 
 years ago, accidentally hearing Mrs. William S. Pat- 
 ten, of Providence, lamenting that she found it im- 
 possible to obtain eatable Indian meal in the city, I 
 took occasion soon after to call at Hammond's Mill, 
 and obtain a peck of fresh-ground ambrosia, which I 
 sent to Mr. Patten by express, at the same time dis- 
 patching a letter by mail, informing him from whence 
 he could always obtain the luxurious article in perfec- 
 tion, with some suggestions as to the proper mode of 
 making and baking jonny-cakes. Some weeks after I 
 received a letter from him, filling in close writing four 
 pages of large-sized letter sheet, thanking me in the 
 most grateful terms for my invaluable present of real 
 Indian meal, which he said his wife prized so highly 
 that she used it only on extraordinary occasions. Mr. 
 Patten also expressed great gratification in the descrip- 
 tion I gave him of the old-fashioned Narragansett 
 method of making and baking jonny-cake, an art 
 which he thought should by all means be preserved, 
 if possible. He told me further that he had seriously 
 thought of deposidng my descriptive letter with the 
 Rhode Island Historical Society, but could not bring 
 
 C 23 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 himself to part with so valuable a document, and so 
 had placed it for safe keeping in his archives with his 
 most valued papers. 
 
 As I was saying, Phillis, after taking from the chest 
 her modicum of meal, proceeded to bolt it through 
 her finest sieve, reserving the first teacupful that fell 
 for the especial purpose of powdering fish before their 
 being fried. This brings to my recollection the vast 
 difference there was in the old-fashioned way of fry- 
 ing fish, especially smelts, from that now in vogue in 
 Providence, Boston, and such like outlandish places, 
 at least so far as hotels and restaurants are concerned. 
 There smelts are now-a-day s , without preparation , sim- 
 ply thrown pell-mell into a pan with raw hog's lard 
 of questionable purity, which they absorb before it is 
 half cooked, imparting thereby a greasy, slippery savor 
 to the dear little fish too horrible to mention or abide. 
 On the contrary, Phillis used always to keep a kettle 
 of pure leaf lard, from corn-fed hogs, thoroughly 
 boiled, set apart for the especial purpose of frying 
 smelts during their season. These were always ob- 
 tained each morning from the Saucatucket smelt weir, 
 and delivered to her alive and flipping, the kettle of 
 lard being on the fire boiling all the time. Each deli- 
 cate little fish was, after being washed, rolled carefully 
 in the meal until every hair breadth of it from the tip 
 of its head to the end of its tail was coated in the flour 
 of ambrosia; then taking the caudal extremity of each 
 smelt between her thumb and finger, she dropped it 
 head foremost into the boiling kettle, and there left 
 it until it was thoroughly done and crisp. No epicure 
 who has never tasted smelts cooked by that method 
 [ 24 3 
 
FIRST BAKING 
 
 knows anything of what a smelt is, nor after having 
 once tasted of such can he ever be induced to put into 
 his mouth one of the vile things bearing the name, 
 that has been, minus the meal, half fried in less than 
 half-cooked hog's lard, thereafter. 
 
 It is said by some that the Narragansett smelt, 
 cooked in the only proper way, was in pagan times one 
 of the two relishes or condiments that the gods alone 
 indulged in whilst reveling in jonny-cake made of 
 Narragansett white corn meal, the other being Petta- 
 quamscutt eels caught in the months of January and 
 February with spears thrust into the mud beneath the 
 ice, where they lie. The glorious excellence of these 
 eels, prepared in the old-time way, I am sure no poet 
 — not even Homer or Byron, with all their glowing 
 powers of description — can portray, much less a 
 simple writer of prose. The method was as follows : A 
 basket of fat, yellow-breasted eels being brought fresh 
 from the frozen river, were first saturated with a hand- 
 ful of live wood ashes. This loosened the coating of 
 slime so that they were readily cleansed. Next the head 
 was taken off, and the eel split down the entire length 
 of the back. They were then washed in clean sea water 
 and hung up the kitchen chimney, with its wide, open 
 fireplace, for one night only. Next morning the eels 
 were cut in short pieces and placed on a gridiron, flesh 
 side next to sweet-smelling, glowing coals, made from 
 green oak, walnut, or maple wood. When sufficiently 
 broiled on that side, they were turned on the gridiron 
 and a small slice of fragrant butter, made from the 
 milk of cows fed on honey-laden white clover and aro- 
 matic five-fingers, put on each piece of eel. By this 
 
 I 25 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 time the family were seated at the breakfast table in 
 the great-room, waiting impatiently for the all-but- 
 divine luxury, the exquisite aroma of which pene- 
 trated every nook and cranny of the house. In due 
 time it appears, on a China plate, you may say; by no 
 means ! but on the identical gridiron, hot and lus- 
 cious, with little transparent globules of dew-like nec- 
 tar sparkling on each piece. Every guest or member 
 of the family helps himself from the hot gridiron, which 
 is then returned to the glowing coals, and again and 
 again replenished until the appetite is surfeited or the 
 supply of eels exhausted ; probably the latter, as I 
 never heard of but one instance wherein a fatal sur- 
 feit was produced by the dainty dish, which was the 
 case of one of the kings of England, who died from 
 eating too enormously of broiled eels, speared under 
 the ice at the mouth of the river Humber. I am aware 
 that history charges his death to gormandizing on 
 stewed lamprey eels — a transparent mistake — as no 
 man could be tempted to indulge his appetite exorbi- 
 tantly on eels of any kind — stewed or fried, but only 
 on yellow-breasted eels, speared under the ice and pre- 
 pared and cooked after the Narragansett mode. 
 
 There used to be an old man in Narragansett by 
 the name of Scribbins, who was a great favorite of my 
 grandfather because of his simplicity and honesty. 
 When a small boy, I remember Scribbins's breakfast- 
 ing at our house, one winter morning, when we had 
 broiled eels. The old man helped himself from the 
 gridiron seventeen times, a steady smile playing over 
 his features every moment that passed between the first 
 and last mouthful. He then looked my grandfather — 
 C 26 ] 
 
FIRST BAKING 
 
 Uncle Toby like — blandly and steadily in the face, 
 and significantly nodding his head sideways in the 
 direction of the kitchen door, remarked; "Them 's 
 eels, them is." 
 
 As I was saying, after Phillis had sifted a cupful of 
 the flour of the meal for fish coating, she continued 
 with the same sieve to bolt about one-half of what re- 
 mained for her jonny-cakes, and then transferred the 
 balance to a coarser sieve to be used minus the bran 
 in the making of Rhineinjun bread. This bread, vul- 
 garly called nowadays rye and Indian bread, in the 
 olden time was always made of one quart of unbolted 
 Rhode Island rye meal to two quarts of the coarser 
 grained parts of ambrosia, well kneaded and made into 
 large round loaves of the size of a half-peck measure. 
 There were two ways of baking it. One way was to 
 fill two large iron basins with the kneaded dough, and 
 late in the evening, when the logs in the kitchen were 
 well burned down, to clear a place in the middle of the 
 fire to the hearth and place the two basins of bread, 
 the one on top of the other, so as to inclose their con- 
 tents, and press them into one loaf. The whole was 
 then carefully covered with hot ashes with coals on top, 
 and left until morning. The difference between brown 
 bread baked in this way with its thick, soft sweet 
 crust, and that baked in the oven of an iron stove, 
 I must leave to abler pens than mine to portray. An- 
 other way was to place a number of loaves in iron 
 basins in a long-heated and well-tempered brick oven 
 — stone would not answer as the heat is too brittle 
 — into which a cup of water was also placed to make 
 the crust soft. The oven door was then closed and 
 
 C 27 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 plastered up. When the door of the oven was opened 
 in the morning it was customary to raise one or two 
 windows in the kitchen, the fragrance from the bread 
 being so enrapturing as sometimes to affect persons 
 whose nerves ^^'ere not very strong. 
 
 Even before the Boston brown bread had become 
 utterly worthless by the introduction of Western corn 
 meal, made often of damaged corn, and tasteless West- 
 ern rye to match, I remember bringing home with me, 
 after a visit to that city, a loaf of the famous material, 
 that my children might compare its quality with our 
 family bread. They were all delighted at the prospect 
 of tasting the famous luxury they had heard so much 
 of; but after the first mouthful, not one of them seemed 
 disposed to take a second. After breakfast I took the 
 loaf and placed it in the trough for an old Berkshire 
 sow to eat, that I knew was very fond of our Rhine- 
 injun bread, a piece of which I used almost daily to 
 treat her with. The old creature — which had not been 
 fed that morning — dove her nose greedily into it ; but 
 at the first taste she dropped the morsel, and regard- 
 ing me askance, with a suspicious and sinister ex- 
 pression in her eye, she hastened to a stagnant, muddy 
 pool in the corner of the yard, and rinsed her mouth. 
 '^ As I was saying, after Phillis had sifted the meal 
 for her jonny-cake, she proceeded to carefully knead 
 it in a wooden tray, having first scalded it with boil- 
 ing water, and added sufficient fluid, sometimes new 
 milk, at other times pure water, to make it of a proper 
 consistence. It was then placed on the jonny-cake 
 board about three-quarters of an inch in thickness, 
 and well dressed on the surface with rich sweet cream 
 
 C 28 ;] 
 
FIRST BAKING 
 
 to keep it from blistering when placed before the fire. 
 The red oak jonny-cake board was always the middle 
 portion of a flour barrel from five to six inches wide. 
 This was considered an indispensable requisite in the 
 baking of a good jonny-cake. All the old-time colored 
 cooks without exception, hold that the flour barrel was 
 first made for the express purpose of furnishing jonny- 
 cake boards, and that its subsequent application to the 
 holdingof flour was merely the result of an afterthought. 
 Be this as it may, no one I feel certain ever saw a regu- 
 lar, first-rate, old-timejonny-cake that was not baked 
 on a red oak board taken from the middle part of the 
 head of a flour barrel. The cake was next placed up- 
 right on the hearth before a bright, green hardwood 
 fire. This kind of fire was indispensable also. And so 
 too was the heart-shaped flat-iron that supported it, 
 which was shaped exactly to meet every exigency. 
 First the flat's front smooth surface was placed im- 
 mediately against the back of the jonny-cake to hold 
 it in a perpendicular position before the fire until the 
 main part of the cake was sufiiciently baked. Then a 
 slanting side of the flat-iron was turned so as to sup- 
 port the board in a reclining position until the bottom 
 and top extremities of the cake were in turn baked, 
 and lastly, the board was slewed round and rested 
 partly against the handle of the flat-iron, so as to bring 
 the ends of the cake in a better position to receive the 
 heat from the fire. After a time it was discovered that 
 the flat-iron, first invented as a jonny-cake holder, was 
 a convenient thing to iron clothes with, and has since 
 been used for that purpose very extensively. When 
 the jonny-cake was sufficiently done on the first side, 
 
 [ 29 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 a knife was passed between it and the board, and it 
 was dextrously turned and anointed, as before, with 
 sweet, golden-tinged cream, previous to being placed 
 again before the fire. 
 
 Such as I have described was the process of mak- 
 ing and baking the best article of farinaceous food that 
 was ever partaken of by mortal man, to wit, an old- 
 fashioned jonny-cake made of white Rhode Island corn 
 meal, carefully and slowly ground with Rhode Island 
 fine-grained granite mill-stones, and baked and con- 
 scientiously tended before glowing coals of a quick 
 green hardwood fire, on a red oak barrel-head sup- 
 ported by a flat-iron. With proper materials and care, 
 a decent jonny-cake can be baked on a coal stove, 
 though by no means equal to the old-time genuine 
 article, for the simple reason that wood fires in open 
 fireplaces have become, as a general rule, things of the 
 past, and good, careful, painstaking cooks extinct. 
 
 I may at some future time return to the subject of 
 jonny-cakes and old-time cookery, and state some cir- 
 cumstances that would seem to go to establish the fact 
 that Phillis, my grandfather's cook, was the remote 
 cause of the French Revolution, and the death of 
 Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. But enough for the 
 present. 
 
 C 30 ] 
 
--, • ...n.\\Mll|<"." 
 
Second Baking 
 
 To the Editor of the Journal: Mr. Thomas R. Hazard, in his 
 very entertaining letter to the Journal upon johnny-cakes and 
 cognate subjects, intimated that his grandfather's famous cook 
 had something to do with the French Revolution. If Mr. Hazard 
 knew with how much interest near a hundred thousand people 
 have read his commendations of the famous cook, he would 
 rescue her character from any imputation that she overthrew 
 governments in Europe with the same facility that she mani- 
 fested in manipulating the johnny-cake on the red cedar barrel- 
 head in Old Narragansett. q^^^ Cove. 
 Journal, Feb. 12th, 1879. 
 
 "ANGELS and ministers of grace " defend me from 
 jLJL the Old Cove who insinuates that my grand- 
 father's incomparable cook baked her jonny-cake on 
 a red cedar barrel-head board. Let Old Cove be advised 
 by one who knows something about such matters, as 
 well as the difference between red oak and red cedar, 
 and henceforth look to it, that every bell in his domi- 
 cile is muffled, every door-knocker chained, and every 
 shutter well fastened at night, for if the spirit of the 
 Journal of the 12th inst. should happen to fall in her 
 way, he may rely upon it, that the moment Old Cove 
 admits a spirit "mejum" in his house, whether by 
 accident or design, old Phillis will allow no sleep to 
 his eyelids, nor rest to his bones, until every bell wire 
 under his roof is snapped, and every pane of glass in 
 his windows broken by her exasperated ghost. 
 
 Then again, in the very same paragraph, to dese- 
 crate the name of Rhode Island's chief est luxury with 
 an "h" sticking up in the middle of it! This proves 
 C 31 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Old Cove's entire ignorance of the patriotic derivation 
 of the Christian name Jonny as applied to the far-famed 
 cake, made only in perfection in the South counties of 
 Rhode Island, of soft-feeling, fine, flat meal, ground 
 from pure white floury Rhode Island corn, in Rhode 
 Island granite stone mills. Old Cove, if to the manor 
 of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations born, 
 should have known that the original spelling of the 
 name of the favorite food of the gods was journey- 
 cake, so called, because of the facility with which it 
 could be prepared, to gratify the impatient appetites 
 of those heathen deities, on their annual arrival at the 
 delightful summer resorts or watering-places on the 
 southern shores of the Atlantic, the chief of which were 
 situated where the Narragansett Pier and Newport 
 now stand. This name journey-cake was retained until 
 the close of the War of Independence, about which 
 time, in compliance with the prayers of memorials 
 from the women of Connecticut and Rhode Island to 
 the respective Legislatures of these commonwealths — 
 the term journey, as applied to the favorite food of the 
 gods and of the Yankee nation , ^vas abrogated by sov- 
 ereign authority, and that of jonny substituted in its 
 place, in honor of Gov. Jonathan Trumbull, the hon- 
 ored and trusted friend of General Washington, who 
 always addressed the sterling patriot with the affection- 
 ate pet name oi Brother Jonathan. It was for this latter 
 reason that the whole Yankee nation, and especially 
 New England, became finally sobriqueted, character- 
 ized, and identified in the person of Brother Jonathan 
 Trumbull, a plain, unassuming, honest, common-sense 
 man, who resided in Lebanon, which is situated in the 
 C 32 ] 
 
SECOND BAKING 
 
 south-eastern part of Connecticut, over which colony- 
 he presided as Governor throughout the War of Inde- 
 pendence, he being the only civil appointee under the 
 Crown in all the thirteen colonies who retained his office 
 until after the close of the war. When in full official 
 dress. Brother Jonathan Trumbull looked very much 
 as he is now represented, in what is generally supposed 
 to be caricature. He was of a tall, gaunt form, and wore 
 a swallow-tail homespun coat, manufactured in his 
 family, out of wool raised on his own farm, and col- 
 ored with maple bark procured from his own wood- 
 pile, the dye being set with iron filings obtained from 
 the blacksmith shop in the neighborhood. The coat 
 was cut and made after the latest fashion, by the vil- 
 lage tailor, who, traveling five miles on foot, brought 
 his own goose and shears to Brother Jonathan's house, 
 the latter finding wax, thread, and board, as was rul- 
 able in those primitive days, and receiving in kind for 
 his labor, one dollar for the making of a full dress coat, 
 fifty cents per pair for trowsers, and twenty-five cents 
 for each waistcoat, after which he, the ninth part of 
 a man, cheerfully wended his way home as he came, 
 with a bag of meal on one shoulder, a couple of pieces 
 of salt pork slung on the other, and his goose and 
 shears, with divers farm products, stowed about his 
 person. Uncle Jonathan's shirt ruffles and necktie were 
 spun, woven, bleached, and made by the hands of his 
 wife, from flax of his own raising. His genteel, tight- 
 fitting trowsers, reaching some six inches short of his 
 ankles, were made of striped linsey-woolsey, likewise 
 prepared and spun in his own family. His silver-buckled 
 shoes were made by the hereditary shoemaker , who, like 
 
 Z 33 ^2 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 the family tailor, brought his own lapstone, lasts, and 
 shoe hammer on his back, from neats-hide sole leather 
 and calf-skin, tanned with white oak bark to the halves 
 at the neighborhood tanyard, from hides of the Gov- 
 ernor's own raising. He, the shoemaker, received farm- 
 ers' produce in exchange for his work, at the rate of 
 from a peck to three pecks of corn or its equivalent 
 in kind for each pair of shoes made, according to size. 
 I may just here remark that not even excepting the 
 annual visit to their homes of the tailor, the yearly au- 
 tumnal visit of the shoemaker was looked forward to 
 by all the little boys and girls of the olden time with 
 the most unalloyed pleasure, and with raptures of de- 
 light not conceivable by the young masters and misses 
 of modern days. I can remember when the remnant 
 of a wax end or a shiny piece of calf-skin leather of the 
 size of a silver dollar thrown to me by the old shoe- 
 maker, was more precious in my eyes than a bit of 
 gold of the same size would be deemed by an average 
 modern boy of this fast age. The only imported arti- 
 cle of the court dress worn by Brother Jonathan was 
 an exceedingly short, scanty, yellow nankeen waist- 
 coat, the stuff for which was obtainable only at the 
 quality ' ' stores, in exchange for flaxseed or some one 
 or other of the very few products of the farm that were, 
 in his and also in my early days, available for export 
 to foreign markets. Everything then imported from 
 Europe went by the name of bough ten goods, which 
 signified that they were entirely beyond the reach of 
 the laboring classes, as they could only be obtained, as 
 a general rule, in exchange for hard money, a thing 
 not to be thought of by the vast majority in commu- 
 
 C 34 ] . > 
 
SECOND BAKING 
 
 nities where all hand and farm work was paid for in 
 kind — that is, in farm produce. 
 
 I perceive that some dozen or less of the Journal cor- 
 respondents have taken occasion to comment on my 
 Rhode Island jonny-cake article that was printed in 
 the paper of January 27, to none of which I think it 
 absolutely necessary to demur except to some remarks 
 made by an East Greenwich correspondent in the Jour- 
 nal of the 30th ult. I am perfectly willing to admit that 
 the white corn meal ground at the Old Forge Mill 
 in Potowomut, must have been some pumpkins, as 
 Grinnager, by implication, asserts. Otherwise, Gen- 
 eral Greene, who was raised mostly upon that semi- 
 ambrosia, could never have reached the second position 
 among our Revolutionary worthies; but when your 
 Grinnager goes on to charge that the Old Forge Mill 
 fine soft meal is altogether better for jonny-cakes than 
 the ambrosia of the sea-shore counties of Rhode Island, 
 I hurl back the disparaging imputation with scorn. 
 The fact is, had General Nat Greene first seen the 
 hght a few miles further south in Washington, instead 
 of Kent county, where he could have been nurtured 
 on the pure article, the probability is that he would 
 never have let George Washington get ahead of him, 
 who was raised on Indian cake made of coarse round 
 meal, ground from Virginia corn and baked on the 
 blade of a plantation hoe. Talk about Old Forge Mill 
 ambrosia being superior to that made in Newport and 
 Washington counties! Fudge! Why, it is but a few 
 months ago that I handed a package of four pounds 
 of ambrosia to a clerk in the Providence post office, and 
 told him I wanted it forwarded by mail to my sick 
 
 C ss ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 daughter in California. He regarded the package with 
 a look of surprise amounting to wonder, and then told 
 me that it could not pass, as the article was not known 
 in that office, nor could he find it named in the table of 
 postage rates. Refusing to listen to my remonstrances, 
 I next proceeded to the sanctum of the postmaster, who 
 I think was born in Kent county, and made known to 
 him my grievance. He at once arose in great excite- 
 ment and confronted his delinquent subordinate. If 
 I heard correctly all Mr. Bray ton ^ said, he upbraided 
 his clerk in unmeasured terms for his stolid ignorance 
 in not knowing the head under which ambrosia should 
 be classed in the postal tariif of prices, and sternly 
 ordered him to forward my package by the first fast 
 express mail, and sooner, if possible, and place it on 
 his books under the head of double refined gold-dust, 
 adding that if he ever knew him to be guilty of so fla- 
 grant a misdemeanor in the future he would turn him 
 out of the office, even if he was necessitated to fill his 
 place — for want of a better — with a Greenback Demo- 
 crat ! At the time my daughter received the ambrosia 
 she was confined to a sick bed, but such was the ex- 
 hilaration of spirits inspired by the sight of the pack- 
 age, that she immediately sat up, and being bolstered 
 with pillows, proceeded at once to mix a jonny-cake, 
 laughing and crying, as she subsequently wrote me, 
 through emotional delight all the time she was doing 
 it; next she called for a spirit lartip and tended its 
 baking entirely herself, still continuing to laugh and 
 cry by turns until it was nicely done. She then ate 
 every mouthful of the precious ambrosia, laughing 
 aloud after every swallow. When the feast was over, 
 C 36 ] 
 
SECOND BAKING 
 
 she sank back on her pillow and cried, because she had 
 not another Rhode Island jonny-cake to eat; just as 
 we read that after Alexander had subdued one world, 
 he wept aloud because he had not another to conquer. 
 I may just say here that Atlantis was not then known 
 to the ancients. 
 
 What, let me ask, has Grinnager got to say about 
 his Old Forge Mill being superior to the ambrosia of 
 the southern counties of Rhode Island in the face and 
 eyes of such testimony as the foregoing, including that 
 of a citizen of Warwick in his own county. 
 
 What your Old Forge Mill correspondent farther 
 alleges about Warrick and Grinnage being not only 
 ' ' the legitimate home of the jonny-cake, but the clam 
 also, ' ' I might very properly defer to the senior con- 
 ductor of the Journal, the long time-honored chairman 
 of the Rhode Island fish committee, and the patron and 
 defender by immemorial usage and divine right of that 
 inestimable institution, the Rhode Island clambake, 
 commencing at a period in shell-fish history to which 
 the memory of man reacheth not back. But now that 
 my dander is a little raised by Grinnager 's pretensions 
 respecting the qualities of ambrosia, I will remark for 
 the benefit of those whom it may concern , that the clams 
 dug on the Warrick and Grinnage flats are not a whit 
 superior, if they are so good, as those obtained at Wick- 
 ford, in the South County, called formerly Clamtown, 
 for the reason of the abundance and excellence of its 
 bivalves, whilst they no more compare with the deli- 
 cate lusciousness — round, plump, fat, sweet little blue 
 shelled clams that are found, like angels' visits, few 
 and far between, imbedded among clay and stones, on 
 
 [37] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 the shores of the east passage of Narragansett Bay, 
 than a New York Saddle Rock, Shrewsbury, or Blue 
 Point.compares in exquisiteness with the "great bed " 
 Providence River oysters of the olden time, before 
 Rhode Island w aters had been desecrated by trash 
 brought from Chesapeake Bay and dumped therein. 
 On looking closely at your correspondent's communi- 
 cation I have placed at the commencement of this ar- 
 ticle, I think I discern a sort of a sinister leer hidden 
 under its fair seeming words, as if Old Cove would in- 
 sinuate that he don't believe I can show how Phillis, 
 my grandfather's cook, "overthrew governments in 
 Europe," &c., to all of which I may say with Sancho 
 Panza, "Hurry no man's cattle," "there is a time 
 for all things," and with honest Jack Falstaff, that 
 I will not give reasons " under compulsion," though 
 they hang about me as thick as huckleberries in a 
 Narragansett sheep pasture. Still I mean when the 
 proper time arrives to make good my implied promise, 
 and show that Phillis, the colored Narragansett cook, 
 was, provided the authorities I shall quote can be relied 
 upon, a remote, and, perhaps, a proximate cause of 
 the French Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI 
 and Marie Antoinette. 
 
 But this important branch of my subject I must 
 defer to a future paper, and will conclude this by sim- 
 ply observing in relation to what the Boston Post says 
 about the prayer he proposes concocting with the 
 view of obtaining a furlough from heaven when he 
 gets there, to be allowed to come back to the south- 
 ern shores of Rhode Island and feast on jonny-cake and 
 the other good edibles nowhere else to be found, that 
 
 n 38 ] 
 
SECOND BAKING 
 
 unless he minds his political p's and q's better in the 
 future than he has done in the past, I think he had 
 better frame his supplication with the view of keeping 
 out of quite another place, where the atmosphere is 
 said to be entirely too warm to bake jonny-cakes with- 
 out blistering. 
 
 C 39 ] 
 
Third Baking 
 
 HAVING, as I presume, annihilated in my last 
 communication, Grinnager and his Old Forge 
 Mill bogus jonny-cake, I will now proceed to show how 
 my grandfather's cook, Phillis, was instrumental in in- 
 augurating the French Revolution that led to the death 
 on the scaffold of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette ! It 
 was after this wise — but now I must pause a few mo- 
 ments, as I perceive on reading the last paragraph in 
 my first communication, that I intimated to the readers 
 of the Journal that ' ' at some future time I might re- 
 turn to the subject of jonny-cake and old-time cook- 
 ery," as practiced by my grandfather's accomplished 
 colored cook, before proceeding to relate the mode 
 or manner of Phillis being the ' ' remote cause of the 
 French Revolution, ' ' &c. So, to be as good as my word, 
 I will return to the subject just where I left off, viz. : 
 where the jonny-cake was left, which was thoroughly 
 done, still resting on or against the red oak board be- 
 fore the blazing fire. From this position it was removed 
 by Phillis, and cut into six pieces. These were placed 
 carefully and symmetrically in two even packages, the 
 one on top of the other, on a pewter plate, and con- 
 veyed by Margaret, the black waitress, hot to the 
 breakfast table, without a moment's loss of time. 
 
 Mark! I say, "pewter plate; " none of your china 
 or earthen dishes, for pewter has the quality of keeping 
 things hot and nice, that is not inherent in any other 
 known metal or material, besides possessing many 
 other peculiar culinary and domestic qualities of great 
 
 C 40 ] 
 
THIRD BAKING 
 
 value, among not the least of which is its not being 
 liable to take the edge oiFthe knives. The importance 
 of this fact can only be fully comprehended by those 
 unfortunate hosts who have been compelled by cir- 
 cumstances to dissect in a hot day certain aged birds, 
 or antediluvian joints, with a dull carving knife, in the 
 presence of an appreciative company of strange guests. 
 I remember being present in my early days on an oc- 
 casion of this kind, wherein the trial of patience was 
 too great for a highly approved member and high-seat 
 elder of the self-denying Society of Friends to sustain, 
 and who in the agony of spirit inspired by a dull carv- 
 ing knife and a tough bird, gave way to a hasty, not 
 to say unseemly expression, greatly to the annoyance 
 and even consternation of the Friends present. It was 
 after this wise : When in my seventh year, say about 
 1804, my father was moved to take me with him to 
 Friends quarterly meeting, held on the first fifth day 
 after the second first day of the week in the eighth 
 month, in Portsmouth, Rhode Island, in the old meet- 
 ing-house in which that really great light of the world, 
 George Fox, preached as ' ' the spirit gave utterance, ' ' 
 more than two centuries ago, I rode on horseback behind 
 my father to the South Ferry in South Kingstown, a 
 distance of seven miles. It was my first lengthyjourney , 
 and I remember that I was lost in wonder at the great 
 extent of the world. We passed over the two ferries, 
 a distance in the aggregate of seven miles, which im- 
 pressed me beyond description with a sense of the sub- 
 lime grandeur and perils of the deep. But how shall I 
 describe my sensations when we landed on the Ferry 
 wharf in Newport, and walked up Thames street to 
 
 C 41 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 friend Ann Carpenter's, who lived in the north part of 
 the brick house that is still standing not far from the 
 Parade, the next south of the house and dry goods shop 
 then occupied by honest old Job Sherman, and since 
 then by his sons. I confess I was for a time beside 
 myself with amazement ! Such lofty buildings ! I have 
 since seen the dome of St. Peter's at Rome, and the 
 top of Mont Blanc, neither of which I feel were half so 
 high as was Trinity church steeple at that time. Such a 
 magnificent display of goods of every description in the 
 shop windows, and, above all others, the wooden rock- 
 ing-horses, stuffed monkeys, spinning tops, red morocco 
 play balls, marbles, and countless other curiosities then 
 so highly prized by boys, all huddled together! I had 
 ten coppers in my pocket, and longed to ask a man I 
 saw standing in the door of a toy shop the price of his 
 rocking-horse and stuffed monkey, but I could not 
 muster courage enough to put the question to him, so 
 deeply was I impressed with a feeling of awe, inspired 
 by a sense of the grandeur of the owner of so many 
 things of inestimable value. I have since seen Paris 
 and London and divers other great cities on either con- 
 tinent, but not one that compares in magnificence with 
 what Newport then was, anymore than East Grinnage 
 now compares with the city of New York. If any of the 
 Providence readers of the Journal should, out of envy 
 of Newport's former glories, question the truth of my 
 assertions in these respects, I will obligate myself under 
 heavy penalties to prove the truth of all I say, provided 
 they will produce a witness to gainsay my averments 
 under oath, who had at that period arrived at the legal 
 age of twenty-one. 
 
 C 42 ] 
 
THIRD BAKING 
 
 The next day, which was the fifth of the week, my 
 father hired a horse and chaise of one friend Shaw, in 
 Broad street, with which we proceeded to the Friends 
 meeting-house, situated about eight miles from New- 
 port, on the north-western declivity of Quaker Hill, in 
 Portsmouth. I had seen a good many Quakers before, 
 both at my grandfather's and our Tower Hill meeting- 
 house, which used to stand in the elbow of the road 
 near the present Tower Hill summer hotel ; but the 
 innumerable company that was there assembled, all, 
 of both sexes, arrayed in neat drab costume, gave me 
 a glowing impression that the Quaker society was the 
 most extensive, as regarded numbers, of all religious 
 denominations in the world. I remember being deeply 
 impressed with the reverential expression that rested 
 on the countenance of the old man who sat at the head 
 of the gallery, who, as will be perceived in due time, I 
 afterwards learned was no other than the highly val- 
 ued Friend and elder and excellent citizen, Christopher 
 Almy, otherwise known to his neighbors as *'old Kit 
 Almy," father of the late William Almy, of the firm 
 of Almy, Slater & Brown, who first introduced the 
 manufacture of cotton into Rhode Island and America, 
 and grandfather of the late Anne Almy Jenkins, who, 
 as I know by ocular proof and demonstration, dwells 
 among the brightest angels in heaven, not because she 
 was a good Quakeress, but for the reason that she was 
 a good, kind, sympathetic woman, and a friend to the 
 poor and all those who were in want or distress, with- 
 out regard to their creed, color, condition, or nation. I 
 most vividly remember that William Crutch, a travel- 
 ing public Friend from England, sat with his compan- 
 
 C 43 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 ion next below old Christopher Almy in the high seat, 
 and that I was almost scared to death, while in holding 
 forth he signified there might be some present who had 
 outlived the day of grace, and that a door of mercy 
 might peradventure be no longer open for their repent- 
 ance. Among such an assemblage of holy men and 
 women as all appeared to be, I fancied I alone was the 
 black sheep of the flock who had committed the un- 
 pardonable sin, in many instances now brought in de- 
 tail vividly to my remembrance, and I cried with fear 
 and trembling until my handkerchief was so wet with 
 tears, that I was afterwards ashamed to take it out of 
 my pocket in company, not even when I sneezed. After 
 meeting ^ Friend Almy asked my father to go home 
 with him, and dine with the English Friends before he 
 returned to Newport, which invitation was accepted. 
 I well recollect that the day was excessively hot, the 
 atmosphere partaking of that fervent, stifling heat, that 
 often precedes thunder showers. When my father and 
 I arrived at Friend Almy's, who lived on his ancestral 
 farm now known as the Portsmouth Grove estate, in- 
 stead of going into the great-room with my father and 
 confronting the dreaded English Friend, I proceeded, 
 boy fashion, to the garden, where I ensconced myself 
 behind a big spreading gooseberry bush, and com- 
 menced whetting my appetite for dinner with a goodly 
 supply of luscious red gooseberries, such as in these 
 degenerate days are seldom to be found. As I was so 
 employed, I saw, not without apprehension. Friend 
 Almy making directly for the barn, and heard him 
 mutter to himself as he passed, luckily without ob- 
 serving me, in rather a deprecating tone, something 
 [ 44 H 
 
THIRD BAKING 
 
 about a dozen Quaker horses in his cow pasture." 
 When Friend Almy got to the barn, he found that his 
 hired mowers and men had taken advantage of the 
 extraordinary occasion and were recreating themselves 
 for an hour or two before proceeding to the hay-field, 
 with a fiddle and jews '-harp. This, of course, was very 
 trying to the old man's feelings, as his best ten-acre 
 lot then lay in swath, and the white cap of a thunder- 
 cloud was just rising above the north-western horizon. 
 When on his way back to the house, I was horror- 
 stricken, on my hearing the exemplary and plainly 
 dressed old Quaker soliloquizing in an undertone as 
 he passed me, "These are heavenly times, I swear; 
 a house full of Quakers and a barn full of fiddlers ! ' ' 
 The better to prepare readers to understand and 
 appreciate what follows, I will here say that what are 
 called green geese — that is, gosling geese that have 
 been fattened mostly on green grass — have always been 
 esteemed a luxury appertaining solely to the islands 
 in Narragansett Bay, notwithstanding anything that 
 Grinnagers and Warrickers may advance to the con- 
 trary. The eighth month being in season for this lux- 
 urious edible. Friend Almy had it in his mind that the 
 English Friends whom he expected to dine with him 
 should have an opportunity to partake of one of Rhode 
 Island's greatest luxuries; not perhaps without a streak 
 of vanity passing through his mind, that they could 
 not fail to acknowledge that there was no feathered 
 fowl in all England whose flavor would compare with 
 a Rhode Island green goose. With all this in view be- 
 fore leaving home on the previous day, to go to New- 
 port to meet and dine with the English Friends at David 
 
 C 45 J 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Buffum's, called the Quaker Bishop, because of his 
 portly form, fine Quaker costume, and commanding 
 figure and address, the old man had given orders to his 
 Irish valet of all work to prepare a green goose for din- 
 ner next day. Now it so happened that Friend Almy 
 had been the possessor of a famous East India gander 
 for more than the quarter of a century, that next to his 
 wife and children he set more by than any other 
 creature or thing on earth. So poor, unpractical man 
 that he was in a knowledge of the Irish character — 
 he thought it no more than prudent to caution Patrick 
 by telling him to be sure and not hurt the old gander, 
 which, as there was no goose in the flock any greener 
 in plumage than the designated individual, was equiv- 
 alent to a death warrant accompanied with a merciful 
 caution to hurt the poor creature as little as possible 
 in the killing. 
 
 A sumptuous dinner had been provided for his 
 numerous guests by Friend Almy, around which they 
 were all seated, myself next to father. It may not be 
 known to all the gentile readers of the Journal that 
 it has always been the practice of Friends not to re- 
 turn thanks for the good things God has provided, in 
 Avords, before meals, but by sitting for a season in 
 perfect silence, during which it is to be presumed the 
 thoughts of all present mount upward in reverential 
 gratitude for the good things before them. From what 
 I had recently witnessed, readers may readily divine 
 that my eyes though rather sideways and slily were 
 riveted on the extraordinary countenance of our hos- 
 pitable but sorely tried host, during the whole period 
 of silence, and I am sure that were I to live to the age 
 
 C 46 1 
 
THIRD BAKING 
 
 of ten Methuselahs, I should never forget the awful 
 expression that rested on Friend Almy's features as he 
 sat at the head of the table intently gazing on the car- 
 cass of the extraordinary green goose before him. It 
 was an expression that Hogarth I know would gladly 
 have given the world to have been able to immortalize 
 with his pencil, but at the same time with a positive 
 conviction that the achievement must be one beyond 
 the power of either mortal or angel artist to accomplish. 
 After an expressive sigh from the English public 
 Friend, indicating that sufficient thanks had been re- 
 turned for the luxurious repast set before the Friends, 
 Friend Almy hesitatingly arose from his seat, as was 
 customary in the olden time for carvers to do, and after 
 two or three stalwart and persistent eiforts succeeded 
 in planting the tines of a big fork midway in the breast 
 of the goose before him, but unfortunately when he 
 came to use the hereditary family carving knife, he 
 found its edge had been so blunted by repeatedly com- 
 ing in contact with china and earthen-ware platters, 
 that with all his efforts he was not able to make it 
 penetrate through the skin of the breast preparatory to 
 removing the wing. Again and again the sorely tried 
 host returned to the charge, changing occasionally in 
 his desperation the back for the edge of his knife, but 
 all in vain, while the perspiration rolled off his face in 
 huge drops. The old man's trials were fast getting to 
 a stage past the endurance of a Job. The thoughts of 
 the fiddlers in the barn, of his ten acres of uncocked 
 hay, of the troop of horses in his cow pasture, of the 
 stupidity of his Irish valet, of the loss of his favorite 
 pet goose, capped with the dull carving knife and tough 
 
 c 47 : 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 bird before him, had been all struggling in his breast 
 like the seven devils in Mary Magdalene, when a clap 
 of thunder, sounding the knell of his lost ten acres of 
 hay, suddenly burst on his ear. This put the climax 
 on alj his troubles, and making one more despairing 
 effort to saw through the leathery skin of the goose, 
 he dropped the knife, and in agony of spirit sank back 
 in his chair with the unseemly valediction, "D — n the 
 Old Gander." 
 
 C 48 ] 
 
Fourth Baking 
 
 NOBODY but a Narragansettee can tell how 
 many good dishes M^ere made in the olden time 
 out of Indian and rye meal. Jonny-cake, when placed 
 on the table, exhibited many phases. There was the 
 plain jonny-cake before described. Then it was made 
 by Phillis into nice, plain, buttered toast, and again 
 into toast covered all over with delicious curdled cream, 
 butter, and milk, that made one's mouth water to look 
 at it. Then there was the bannock, made of eggs, milk, 
 and fine Indian meal, mixed thin and baked in a pan 
 over the fire. By some, the bannock made of ambrosia 
 is thought to rival and even exceed in exquisiteness 
 of delicacy and flavor the jonny-cake. I have already 
 spoken of the grand old Rhineinjun bread of southern 
 Rhode Island, but not of the toothsome dry and milk 
 toasts made with it. Then again, there was the Rhine- 
 injun jonny-cake, and the all-rye jonny-cake, the rye 
 doughnut, all-rye hasty-pudding, and rye gingerbread, 
 prized above rubies by the school-boys and girls of 
 the olden time, when such things as children existed 
 on earth. The rye raised on the sea-coast of New Eng- 
 land, here let me remark, and especially that grown on 
 the southern coasts of Rhode Island, in the range of the 
 balmy, soft Gulf Stream breezes and atmosphere, is 
 entirely different grain from what is grown in the South 
 and West, the former being deliciously sweet to the 
 palate, while the latter has but little if any taste at all. 
 New England rye seems to correspond in some respects 
 with the delightful sweet-corn raised in the same sea- 
 
 C 49 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 coast latitudes, both in taste and complexion, the grains 
 of both, the rye alike with the Indian sweet-corn, be- 
 ing shrunk or shriveled. South of about the forty-first 
 degree of latitude, the sweet-corn of New England 
 becomes an exotic, it being necessary that the seed 
 should be obtained annually from the north to insure 
 even an approximate degree of sweetness to that which 
 attaches to the grain spontaneously when raised in 
 New England's congenial clime, and especially on the 
 southern shoresof the Ancient Adantis, viz. : Washing- 
 ton and Newport counties in Rhode Island. People liv- 
 ing in cities can know but little of the exquisite flavor 
 of the early red-cobbed sweet-corn , or of the later white- 
 cobbed evergreen, for the reason that the market is sup- 
 plied with ears of corn gathered some hours before it is 
 eaten. Old Phillis' method of boiling green-corn was 
 first to set her pot of water boiling, drawn fresh and 
 sparkling from the bubbling well,^ whilst she took the 
 outside husks from the ears of corn just gathered by 
 old mill-boy, fresh from the stalk in the green-corn 
 patch, back of the barn, leaving a few of the inside 
 husks on the outside of each ear, and then plunging 
 them instanter into the boiling water before the sweet- 
 ness had departed. How many ears of Phillis' corn, pre- 
 pared after this fashion, a small boy could eat with a 
 fair amount of sweet, fragrant, aromatic butter, I can- 
 not say, for although Phillis always boiled a bushel pot 
 full of green -corn at once, I could never manage to get 
 enough fully to satisfy my appetite. As for the green 
 sweet-corn, when nicely roasted before a green hard- 
 wood fragrant fire, I used to think w hen a small boy 
 that I could have eaten at least two bushels of it could 
 C 50 ] . 
 
FOURTH BAKING 
 
 I have got all I wanted. So, too, with succotash, the 
 Indian for dried sweet-corn and beans, which my 
 grandmother used to always caution me about eating 
 too much of, as she had once known a naughty boy 
 who burst asunder in the middle from having eaten too 
 heartily of the tempting dish. If possible, the heavenly 
 old cook's rye griddle-cakes, as well as her wholly rye 
 jonny-cakes, were sweeter than newly gathered boiled 
 or roasted green-corn. It used to be said by the old ne- 
 groes in my grandfather's kitchen that in time of the 
 War of the Revolution the old women of Narragansett 
 used rye jonny-cake instead of sugar to sweeten their 
 hard-hack tea with. 
 
 Then again, in the olden time, we used to have 
 the suet jonny-cake and the half and half flour and 
 Indian jonny-cake, both very deHghtful for a change. 
 But oh, them pumpkin jonny-cakes, to say nothing of 
 the famous old-time pumpkin pies and the nice little 
 round pumpkin griddle-cakes, which would be held 
 cheap in this day at a silver dollar of the same weight 
 avoirdupois apiece. Talk about your Hubbard and 
 other sweet squashes as you will, I say upon the best 
 authority, no less than that of Phillis,my grandfather's 
 accomplished cook, that the little sugar pumpkin of 
 Rhode Island is as far superior in sweetness and divine 
 flavor to any squash that ever grew out-doors or in a hot- 
 house to boot, as a sweet watermelon is to a cucumber. 
 • I remember when a horse dealer from Virginia by the 
 name of Walkins came to my grandfather's to buy 
 Narragansett pacers, whilst riding down the lane he 
 chanced to see a nice looking sweet pumpkin in the 
 corn-field, which, mistaking for a melon, he got over 
 
 c 51 :i 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 the fence and using his jack-knife, cut and ate every 
 mouthful of it, rind and all, except the seeds, which he 
 put in his pocket to carry home, at the same time de- 
 claring that he never tasted so delicious a melon south 
 of Mason and Dixon's line. 
 
 But above all other edibles, in the estimation of the 
 olden-time children of Narragansett, loomed up the 
 huckleberry jonny-cake, which, to be first-rate, must 
 be made half and half of meal and fresh g^hered ripe 
 berries. Phillis used to say there was nothing she 
 " 'spised " more than a huckleberry jonny-cake with 
 no huckleberries in it. It used to be held in Narra- 
 gansett that the faces of little boys and girls that were 
 fed during the whole berry season on half and half 
 huckleberry jonny-cake grew into the shape of a smile 
 that remained until berries came again the next sum- 
 mer. 
 
 In fact, I remember when a small boy calling with 
 my father on an errand at Mr. Stedlar's, whose wife 
 had just mixed and put on the barrel-head board a 
 huckleberry jonny-cake, which lay unbaked on the 
 table, preparatory to being placed before the fire. No less 
 than eight children of all sexes and sizes soon entered, 
 whom I had observed making mud-pies near the sink 
 gutter as we approached the house. Each of these by 
 turn gave the cake several affectionate pats with their 
 dripping hands as they looked me blandly in the face 
 and exclaimed in triumphant tones, — Huckleberry- 
 jonny-cake! accompanied with a self-congratulatory, 
 telling smile. On my father remarking on their happy 
 expression of countenance, the mother told him that the 
 year before she had fed all her children for six entire 
 
 C 52 ] 
 
FOURTH BAKING 
 
 days wholly on huckleberry jonny-cakes, and that she 
 found a smile had remained on their countenances 
 every moment of time both when awake and asleep for 
 just six months thereafter. Mrs. Stedlar further said 
 that she had intended to feed her children on huckle- 
 berry jonny-cakes that summer for twelve days in suc- 
 cession, so that they would continue to smile the twelve 
 months round, but that she should have to give it up 
 after that day, which was the ninth since she began, 
 as she found they laughed in their sleep so loud and 
 long that they kept their old grandmother awake all 
 night ! 
 
 Then again there was the Indian baked pudding 
 made of ambrosia, milk, and eggs, with a trifle of 
 Muscovado sugar or Portorique molasses. I can re- 
 member when I could eat near upon a six-quart pan 
 of this delicious viand and then cry for more. Still 
 again there was the huckleberry and blackberry baked 
 and boiled pudding, and the green fox -grape boiled 
 pudding, none of your tasteless catawba or Isabella 
 insipids, all eaten with luscious brown sugar sauce.H 
 I can remember when the thought that I was to have 
 a green fox-grape pudding for supper after my return 
 from school would make me hop, skip, run, and jump 
 all the way home, more than two miles, without stop- 
 ping to take breath. But then these were days when 
 boys and girls had a childhood, not like the present 
 times, when every little defaulting devil is born with 
 the idea that he is to be a member of Congress, a 
 lawyer, a doctor, a minister, a millionaire thief, or a jail- 
 bird of some other sort, before he is squarely out of 
 his swaddling-clothes. In fact, it is not many years 
 
 [ 53 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 since, that old nurse Gardiner, after making the re- 
 mark that children were now born Math their eyes wide 
 open, instead of closed like kittens, as formerly, told 
 me of an instance wherein she went as a three weeks' 
 nurse of a young devil who was born at nine o'clock 
 of a Saturday evening, whom she observed at daylight 
 on the next morning, criticising the portrait of his 
 mother that hung on the wall opposite, evidently mak- 
 ing odious comparisons between it and the lady at his 
 side, to whom the ten-hour-old gentleman had conde- 
 scended to surrender the occupancy for a limited period 
 of a small portion of his bed. When the precocious 
 chap caught nurse Gardiner's eye, she said he clapped 
 the fore-finger of his left hand on the side of his nose 
 and with a knowing wink pointed first to the picture 
 and then to his mother, with his right hand, and sig- 
 nified in pantomime, that he considered the former a 
 very much flattered likeness. 
 
 I Then again, there was the hasty pudding, not the 
 half-cooked knotty stuff*of modern days, but nice faith- 
 fully stirred, well-boiled pudding without any two par- 
 ticles of ambrosia sticking together in it. Phillis used 
 to say there was "nothing on airth she 'spised so as 
 lumpy, half-raw, half-burned hasty pudding." People 
 nowadays don't know how to eat hasty pudding and 
 milk. A spoon should be dipped into the milk before 
 it lifts the pudding, to keep it from sticking, which 
 should then be dropped into the porringer of milk, so 
 as each mouthful shall remain separate. 
 
 When cold, Phillis used to fry her hasty pudding 
 in the nicest fresh butter, which made it a dish, as 
 she said, fit to set before a king. She used to say there 
 
 z 54 ;] 
 
FOURTH BAKING 
 
 was ' ' nothing she 'spised more than nigger cooks who 
 used rancid butter for cooking," and that for her part, 
 if she had to use bad butter at all, she wanted to set 
 it in separate pewter plates on the table, so that folks 
 might eat it or not, just as they chose, and not mix 
 it with all the dishes in cooking, so that they would 
 be obliged to eat it or starve. I would like to resurrect 
 Phillis and take her to one of our first-class hotels where 
 hasty pudding is fried in half-raw patent clarified lard. 
 I was in Philadelphia a few years ago when several 
 barrels of this clarified lard were seized by the police 
 while in transit to the New York market. A French- 
 man who manufactured the lard was then put on trial, 
 when it was disclosed in evidence that his method was 
 to visit all the western railroad depots on the arrival 
 of freight trains, and drag the wounded, sick, and dead 
 hogs out of the ankle-deep filth in the cars, and throw 
 them, unwashed, into great steam boilers, and thus 
 extract the lard, which was afterwards skimmed and 
 separated from the refuse, &c., and clarified, when it 
 was labeled as the purest and best of lard, and sent 
 to market to regale the appetites of the snobs and epi- 
 cures in our great cities. A friend of mine told me 
 that he was personally cognizant of the same process 
 being practiced on a great scale in Cincinnati, as it 
 probably is in many other places. 
 
 Then again, there was the never-absent dish in good 
 families of old, milk porridge, a luxury of surpassing 
 excellence when rightly concocted and cooked, that 
 must be reckoned among the lost arts in these hurrying, 
 money-getting and universal-thievery, food-spoiling 
 and food-bolting days. Many a time have I sat by, 
 
 C 55 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 when a boy, watching old Phillis as she made this 
 delicious beverage. First, she boiled the water, always 
 drawn fresh, buoyant, and sparkling from the well; 
 none of your poison leaden pipe, or wooden pump, 
 dead and alive wells, or water works, but a real old- 
 fashioned M-ell, every stone of which was coated with 
 life-given green moss, with a frog or two seated near 
 the bottom, which was ever vitalized and kept alive 
 and fresh by the plunges and splashings of the old 
 oaken bucket hanging at the end of the pole of a big, 
 long well-sweep, balanced at the further end with a 
 pile of stones. Into the boiling water she carefully sifted 
 through the fingers of her left hand the flour of am- 
 brosia, if for the sick, and if for common purposes the 
 second sifting, which she stirred with a pudding-stick, 
 held in her right hand, so artistically, that no two 
 grains of the meal were ever known to adhere together. 
 Phillis used to carry a magnifying glass of some twenty- 
 five hundred or as many thousand horse-power, I dis- 
 remember which, with which she from time to time 
 surveyed the boiling compound, nor did she commence 
 adding the rich new milk until every separate minute 
 particle of the ambrosia had become transparent and 
 sufiiciently expanded in dimensions to enable her to dis- 
 cern the image of her own nose fully reflected there- 
 from. So exquisite was this compound that I have 
 known one pint porringer of Phillis' milk porridge to 
 work a complete and instant cure of the blues, and 
 that of the worst kind. In fact, the old woman used to 
 tell a story of Sol Smith, who once stopped in my grand- 
 father's kitchen to warm, whilst on his way to hang 
 himself on the limb of a sour apple tree in our lower 
 
 1 56:1 
 
FOURTH BAKING 
 
 orchard, about some love affair, just as she was finish- 
 ing off a pot of porridge. Phillis said he looked so woe- 
 begone-like that she gave him a porringer of her por- 
 ridge, which was not more than half finished, when he 
 took a rope with a noose braided on one end out of his 
 pocket and threw it to Phillis to mend her clothes-line 
 with as he said, accompanied with the remark that 
 Almira might marry as many other felloAvs as she 
 wanted to, and he wouldn't mind, so long as he could 
 get ' ' such porridge as them was. ' ' In such high esteem 
 was the milk porridge of the olden time held by Narra- 
 gansettees that since my memory they always spoke 
 of it in the plural number. No ordinary man or woman 
 in Narragansett ever said in those days, "Please give 
 me a little more of that porridge," but, "Please give 
 me a few more of them porridge." 
 
 Then again, there was the samp — coarse hominy 
 pounded in a mortar — and the great and little hominy, 
 all Indian dishes fit to be set before princes and gods. 
 But what shall I say of the hulled corn of old ? None 
 of your modern tasteless western corn, hulled with 
 potash, but the real, genuine ambrosia, hulled in the 
 nice sweet lye made from fresh hard oak and maple- 
 wood ashes. I remember when a bowl or porringer 
 of hulled corn and milk was a thousand times more 
 relished by me than any dish I can now find at 
 any hotel in the United States. Narragansett hulled 
 corn and beans was in those days ten thousand times 
 as good, as I remember, as the best pork and beans 
 ever cooked in Boston town of that day, or in Boston 
 city of the present dishonest, defaulting age. Then 
 again, there was the great Indian dish called no-cake, 
 
 c 57 : 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 in which was concentrated such inexpressible sweet- 
 ness and life-sustaining power that the aborigines of 
 New England, when hunting or on the warpath, could 
 carry forty days' provisions each on their backs with- 
 out inconvenience. 
 
 The No-cake family, the last survivors of the famous 
 Narragansett Indians, have recently, I think, with 
 one exception, become extinct in Washington county, 
 where the scanty remnants of the tribe were located, 
 on the Indian reserve in Charlestown. 
 
 No-cake was made of pounded parched Indian corn. 
 Curious enough, I can remember when the eating of 
 no-cake and milk was considered somewhat a test in 
 Narragansett of good breeding. To be eaten gracefully, 
 no-cake must be placed very carefully on the top of the 
 milk, so as to float, and a novice, in taking a spoon- 
 ful of it to his mouth, is very liable to draw his breath, 
 when the semi-volatile substance enters his throat in 
 advance of the milk and causes violent strangling or 
 sneezing. An expert in the art. places the spoonful of 
 milk with the no-cake floating upon the top, carefully 
 into his mouth, and mixes them together without draw- 
 ing his breath until he swallows. I well remember the 
 old no-cake mortar that used to stand in my grand- 
 father's kitchen, upside down when not in use, so as 
 to serve for a seat. I think it would hold half a gallon 
 of parched corn, or more, which was pounded with a 
 heavy double-headed pestle, for lack of one made of 
 stone, as used by the Indians. This mortar was made 
 of unsplitable wood, known as gumwood or horn- 
 beam, the heart of which is absolutely without grain 
 running in any direction. Old Tom Griswold once de- 
 C 58 ] 
 
FOURTH BAKING 
 
 scribed horn-beam, after burying every wedge at the 
 woodpile in a short log without cracking it, as being 
 made of "double and twisted lignum vitas sawdust, 
 spun cross-banded, wove kairsy, cussed at both ends, 
 and damned in the middle." 
 
 It was Themillboy's — the mill-boy — only work to 
 shell the corn for family use ; go once a week every 
 Friday to mill, and pound the no-cake. These com- 
 prised all his duties. Themillboy's age was uncertain. 
 He had gone by the name during at least three gen- 
 erations of the family. When queried with, all that 
 could be got out of the old darkey was that he never 
 had any name but Themillboy. Nor did he know where 
 he was born, if in fact he was ever born at all — rather 
 thought not — guessed he was landed on Pint Judy 
 out of his father Noah's ark ; guessed he was the only 
 nigger aboard; didn't see no other; didn't see no 
 nigger woman there ; guessed there might have been 
 and not seen her, as it was pretty dark, and he did n't 
 move about much for fear of the crocodiles and snakes. 
 My grandfather always had a number of Bible chap- 
 ters read in his kitchen every Sunday afternoon, which 
 renders it possible that Themillboy may have con- 
 founded the ark with the hold of the slave-ship in which 
 he may have been brought from Guinea. Themillboy 
 said he remembered going to mill for my grandfather's 
 father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, and always 
 went to mill on Old Baldface, whose fastest gait was 
 three-quarters of a mile an hour. A hundred years ago 
 Themillboy said he used to carry a bushel of corn on 
 Old Baldface in one end of a bag and a big stone in the 
 other to balance it. As near as could be gathered from 
 
 c 59 : 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 his incoherent words, about that time an innovation 
 was made by which the use of the balancing-stone was 
 abolished, greatly toThemillboy's annoyance, who said 
 that after that he was obliged to shell an additional 
 bushel of corn every time he went to mill to balance 
 the other bushel, instead of using the old meal-bag 
 stone as he had always done before. Themillboy said 
 that the poor folks aHke with him complained of the 
 change, for the reason that when they had worked to 
 buy a bushel of corn they were obliged to work as 
 much longer to buy another bushel to balance it with 
 on their shoulder before they could go to mill, whereas 
 they formerly used a stone that cost them nothing. 
 That balancing-stone was made of granite. The mill- 
 boys, or rather mintboys, of this day propose making 
 one of silver. 
 
 Phillis always put the parched corn in the gumwood 
 mortar and set Themillboy to pounding it as he sat in 
 the corner in an armed easy-chair. Whether sleeping 
 or waking, when Themillboy once began pounding 
 he never ceased until Phillis touched his right arm, 
 when the mortar was emptied and again replenished 
 with parched corn. Phillis touched Themillboy's left 
 arm, \^'hen he would again begin to pound. On one 
 occasion Phillis forgot her no-cake and went to bed, 
 leaving Themillboy pounding. In the morning she 
 found him fast asleep and still at work. One Friday 
 Themillboy went to mill with his grist as usual. Old 
 Baldface arrived home and went up to the accustomed 
 horse-block the same as ever. When black Pomp went 
 to help Millboy oft' with his grist, he found him sitting 
 bolt upright on Old Baldface, stiff", stark, and dead. 
 C 6o ] 
 
FOURTH BAKING 
 
 My grandfather had Themillboy decently buried in 
 the family negro bur3ang-ground. 
 
 The next Friday, Themillboy not going to the pas- 
 ture bar- way to call Old Baldface as usual to go to mill, 
 the affectionate animal came to the house to look for 
 his friend and long-time companion. Not being able 
 to find Themillboy, Old Baldface refused to eat or be 
 comforted, and was found dead beside the horse-block 
 the next morning. He was buried close beside The- 
 millboy. 
 
 Abe, who, though reputed to be a begotten son of 
 the Devil, was nevertheless a born preacher and knew 
 the Old Testament by heart, performed the funeral ser- 
 vices at the grave, taking his text from Samuel 1st 
 chap. 23d verse: "Saul and Jonathan were lovely and 
 pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were 
 not divided : They were swifter than eagles; they were 
 stronger than lions.'''' Abe's sermon on the occasion was 
 very touching and eloquent, he dwelling mostly on the 
 words of the text I have italicized. To show our high 
 appreciation of Abe's discourse, the six little niggs and 
 niggresses and I made up for the preacher a stocking 
 full of pop-corn and roasted red potatoes. After The- 
 millboy's decease, Phillis' jonny-cakes fell off consid- 
 erably in quality and were not so good as before. She 
 gave as a reason that nobody but he and Old Baldface 
 could get as good meal from the mill as they did. 
 
 Corn biscuit, or pound cake, another Indian meal 
 luxury, used to be made with one pound of butter, one 
 pound of sugar, ten eggs, and a pint of new milk, with 
 enough ambrosia to mould it into thin cakes. Then 
 there was the whitpot, differing but little from the com- 
 C 61 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 mon baked Indian pudding, except that it is mixed 
 very thin, and baked very slowly and a great while, so 
 that the milk, eggs, and molasses form a jelly through- 
 out the whole pudding. Then there was the pop-corn, 
 made of four-rowed ears that were chosen because they 
 were the driest thrown out of the corn that was shelled 
 in the kitchen one evening in every week by Themill- 
 boy , Abe, myself, and the six litde niggs and niggresses 
 who were always on hand to assist. After the corn was 
 all shelled, we each and all built a house on the kitchen 
 hearth with our own cobs, and named it "Cob Town." 
 The one who counted the most cobs was then crowned 
 with a pewter porringer by Themillboy, and declared 
 King of Cob Town. When I happened to be crowned 
 king, I felt enough sight bigger than old Grant or Bo- 
 naparte, especially when I came to order my soldiers 
 of both sexes to storm and set fire to every house in the 
 town, which was done with a will amidst loud cheers 
 and hurrahs. 
 
 Then came the popping of the corn — a quantity of 
 which being buried by Pomp and Scip in piles of hot 
 wood ashes, soon began to fly in all directions over the 
 kitchen floor. Such a tumbling, romping, and scram- 
 bling for the white caps, such a yelling, roaring, shout- 
 ing, shrieking, scratching, and screaming with excite- 
 ment and delight as burst from the very hearts of the 
 little niggs, niggresses, and I, cannot be conceived of 
 in this fast age of proprieties and absence among chil- 
 dren of all that is natural, delightful, and lovely. Why, 
 let me tell you, quality folks, there used to be in the olden 
 time, when I was a boy, more real, genuine, live fun 
 in a Narragansett kitchen of a long winter evening, 
 
 : 62 ] 
 
L 
 
 FOURTH BAKING 
 
 than there is now in all the ball-rooms, opera houses, 
 and theatres in North America in a twelve-month. 
 
 When I come to speak of the Indian meal dumpling, 
 that indispensable adjunct of all roast meat dinners in 
 the olden time, I cannot but perceive that I am draw- 
 ing nearer to the time when I must tell how Phillis 
 was the "remote cause of the French Revolution, and 
 the death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, ' ' which 
 I must defer to another paper. 
 
 : 63 3 
 
Fifth Baking 
 
 INDIAN dumplings were, in the olden time, held 
 to be such an indispensable accompaniment of all 
 roasted dishes that Lewis Clarke, known as the Quaker 
 Friar, because of his epicurism, used to say, that if he 
 had nothing but a roasted potato for dinner, he should 
 want an Injun dumpling with it. 
 
 It used to be said by those who knew, that Lewis 
 Latham Clarke was about the same height in person 
 as the late Jack FalstafF, but a good deal fatter. To re- 
 duce his weight so that his horse could carry him from 
 Peleg Gardiner's, where he boarded, to Friends meet- 
 ing on first days, and thence to John Dockray's, John 
 Robinson's, and Rowland Hazard's, where, in those 
 hospitable days, he was accustomed to dine from five 
 to seven days in the week, old Doctor Aldrich advised 
 him to take exercise by working in the garden. A few 
 C 64 ] 
 
FIFTH BAKING 
 
 days after this in passing by Mr. Gardiner's, I observed 
 Lewis sitting in a cushioned arm-chair in the garden, 
 weeding cabbages with a pair of kitchen tongs. It was 
 said that through the Lathams, Lewis was connected 
 by descent with Louis XV of France. 
 
 There used to be, in the olden time, three old Irish 
 school-masters in Narragansett, all noted for their good 
 breeding and gentlemanly manner, by the names of 
 Master Kelly, Master Ridge, and Master Slaughter. 
 An anecdote used to be told of one of these, I forget 
 which, who happened to call for a dinner at some tav- 
 ern on Little Rest Hill, where the waggish landlord, 
 to try his politeness to the utmost, sat before him no- 
 thing but cold Indian dumplings. On his apologizing 
 to his guest for the meagreness of the fare, the old 
 gentleman remarked, in reply, that he had " eat a bet- 
 ter dinner than the one he was partaking, and he had 
 eat a worse." 
 
 Speaking of roasted dishes brings to my mind the 
 old-fashioned way of roasting meats and poultry, as 
 practiced in the height of perfection by Phillis, my 
 grandfather's pattern cook. Narragansetters of the 
 olden time, who could not afford to keep a turn-spit 
 boy, used to suspend their joints of meat or poultry 
 against the fire with a string, one end of which was 
 fastened to a nail driven into the ceiling above, and 
 the other tied around the meat or to the legs of the 
 fowl or bird, so as to bring them into the right position 
 before the fire. It was the housewife's duty, as often as 
 she basted the viand in her charge, to give this string 
 a good twist with her fingers, so that when she let go 
 her hold the roasting meats would fly with the rebound 
 C 65 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 in a contrary direction, and continue to vibrate to and 
 fro until the momentum contributed by the twist was 
 exhausted, by which time the busy housewife would 
 be ready to baste and repeat the twisting again. This 
 mode was found to have a serious objection that 
 attends the imperfect roasting or rather baking pro- 
 cess of meats in modern iron ovens, viz. : The juices, 
 of course, settling down into the lower portions of the 
 roast, rendering it greasy, whilst the upper portion 
 became dry and tasteless, something like, though not 
 so bad, as we find roasts at most tables the present 
 day, including those of merchant princes, rich rail- 
 road lawyers and receivers, and our first-class hotels. 
 To obviate this sore imperfection incident to the string 
 roasting, an old sinner by the name of Ephe Hazard, 
 who had a palate inside his mouth, invented what was 
 called the "double string meat roaster," whereby the 
 bight of a small cord was passed over a smooth round 
 piece of wood arranged horizontally just below the ceil- 
 ing above, whilst its two pendant ends were fastened 
 the one to the leg and the other to the neck of the fowl, 
 or to the lower end and upper extremities of the joint 
 of meat. A small stick some three inches in length was 
 tied to one of the strings, so as to make it very con- 
 venient for an attendant, with its aid, to put a sharp 
 twist into the machine without much trouble, always 
 preceded by drawing the strings downward and up- 
 ward alternately so as to reverse the ends of the joint 
 or bird, and thus cause the juices to constantly pass to 
 and fro. 
 
 But Phillis managed matters differently. In my 
 grandfather ' s huge kitchen fireplace there always stood, 
 C 66 ] 
 
FIFTH BAKING 
 
 as I remember well, a pair of high iron dogs, each fur- 
 nished with three turned-up lips some three inches 
 apart, so as to raise or lower the spit which rested upon 
 them. On the spit was skewered the roasting joint or 
 fowl and placed a convenient distance from the blaz- 
 ing fire, made of green oak, maple, or walnut wood, 
 with a back-log, if my memory serves , ranging in length 
 and size with a boiler of a seventy-five horse-power lo- 
 comotive, except on holidays when the Christmas back- 
 log was a heap sight bigger. Behind the spit of roast- 
 ing meat was placed a pewter platter to reflect back 
 the heat rather larger in circumference than the hind 
 wheel of the eight-horse Concord coach. This spit was 
 always from the first start slowly and regularly turned 
 by the boy Abe, old Pomp, the nigger fiddler, sitting 
 on the hither end of the back-log with a hoe handle 
 in his hand, with which he gave Abe a poke in the 
 ribs as often as he forgot himself and turned the spit 
 too slow ; whilst Scip, the black fifer, used to sit on the 
 farther end of the log armed with a long rake-stail with 
 which he gave Abe a punch in the midriff whenever 
 he turned the spit too fast, Phillis in the meantime con- 
 stantly basting the meat without a moment's relaxa- 
 tion, except when she fetched Abe an occasional swipe 
 across his eyes with her dishcloth as a sort of general 
 reminder. When tin ovens began to come into vogue, 
 my grandfather thought to lessen Phillis' work and 
 bought one for her use ; but she, at first sight of the 
 machine, roundly declared that she would never spile 
 a good joint of meat in such a stifled-up thing, which 
 she believed was an invention of the Devil that he kept 
 in his kitchen to roast cooks in who blistered jonny- 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 cake and made bad coffee. Next, in order to lighten 
 Abe's, Pomp's, and Scip's onerous duties, my grand- 
 father had a smoke-jack put up in the kitchen chimney 
 to turn the spit. But this, too, Phillis utterly eschewed, 
 maintaining that Abe was a good enough smoke-jack 
 for her, and if there was anything on airth she ' ' 'spised 
 more than another, it was a shut-up tin oven and an 
 everlasting creaking smoke-jack ;" so my grandfather 
 submitted to Phillis' dictation with the best grace he 
 could, and sold the jack for old iron, whilst he swapt 
 away the tin oven with a peddler for half a dozen milk 
 pans, which had just begun to take the place in dairy 
 work of the good old-time sweet cedar keelers. 
 
 Talk of the roast meats, roast poultry, and roast wild 
 duck and other feathered game of these days of sulphur- 
 ous coal and iron stoves, and French and Irish cooks! 
 Why the comparing of Hyperion to a satyr is as wide 
 as the poles are apart from conveying a proper idea of 
 the difference between a second cut or sirloin of fat, 
 juicy beef, roasted by Phillis, with a Yorkshire pud- 
 ding beneath it to catch the drippings, and the same 
 article as it is baked or burned rather than roasted 
 by most of the professional cooking artists of the pres- 
 ent day. So too with a roast saddle of mutton, a bris- 
 ket of nice, fat, six weeks old veal, — next to a Rhode 
 Island turkey the best roast dish in the world, — a quar- 
 ter of a lamb, or a haunch of venison. No one living 
 Avho was not born in the last century has any proper 
 conception of the amount of good things that God has 
 provided for man, for the reason that for three-quar- 
 ters of a century or more, the Devil has busied him- 
 self in insinuating modern labor-saving machines, and 
 C 68 J 
 
FIFTH BAKING 
 
 foisting upon us a host of foreign cooks of his own 
 breeding. Then when we come to poultry and game I 
 I will for the present forbear speaking of that king of 
 all birds, whether of the wild game or farm-yard spe- 
 cies, the Rhode Island turkey ! Should I ever feel my- 
 self at all competent to do that glorious thing justice 
 after it had passed through the hands of Phillis, I may 
 venture on the sublime theme again before I close this 
 part of my subject. Then Phillis' roasted ducks ! Their 
 juiciness, the divine exquisiteness of their seasoning, 
 for, as Lewis the Quaker Friar was wont to say, even 
 a duck without stuffing was nothing but a duck ; their 
 ravishing sweetness, their enrapturing flavor, and, 
 above all, their glorious fascinating complexion when 
 immediately after Abe's last turn of the spit they were 
 brought by Margaret smoking hot to the table. 
 
 If Titian, the great Venetian artist, had not died two 
 centuries before Phillis was in her prime, I would have 
 sworn he could nowhere else have obtained a know- 
 ledge of the exquisite tint he has imparted to the 
 coloring of his beautiful female brunettes that grace 
 the picture galleries of Venice and Bologna, but by a 
 close inspection and a profound study of the complexion 
 of Phillis' roasted ducks. Nor was she less successful 
 in preparation and roasting of all kinds of game, wild 
 and domestic, fish and fowl, large and small. I cannot 
 recall to mind the exact time when a young friend of 
 my grandfather chanced to pass a night at our house. 
 He was fond of shooting, and prided himself on his 
 skill as a sportsman, and his discriminating taste in 
 respect to the quality of game and the pleasures of the 
 table. He arrived past the middle of the afternoon, and 
 
 C 69 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 shortly after went out with his pointer and gun to 
 reconnoitre. After an hour's absence he returned with 
 two birds in his bag, the one a woodcock, the other 
 a crow. My grandfather handed the birds to Abe and 
 told him to prepare the woodcock for Phillis, that she 
 might roast it for the young gentleman's breakfast, he 
 intending to leave the next morning at an early hour. 
 Abe, who, as I have related before, was a begotten son 
 of the Devil, took in, as he supposed, the situation at 
 once, arguing in his own mind that as the young man 
 would be up and gone in the morning before any of 
 the "great-room" folks were stirring, he might safely 
 keep the woodcock for his own delectation, and have 
 the less fragrant bird roasted for the stranger guest. 
 In the meantime my grandfather had given orders to 
 PhilUs about getting his young friend's breakfast ready 
 at an early hour, with a charge that she should do her 
 best in the matter of roasting the woodcock. Accord- 
 ingly Phillis was up at dawn of day, and taking the 
 game bird, which she thought had a wonderful sus- 
 picious look, from the larder, she proceeded to stuff 
 and anoint it for roasting, after her very best fashion, 
 Abe in the meantime turning the spit as usual, although 
 as Phillis several times remarked to him, he seemed 
 to be in an uncommon grimacing humor. It would 
 have done a philanthropist's heart good to have seen 
 the youthful New York sportsman enjoy the game he 
 had bagged, every mouthful of which he swallowed 
 with a gusto, picking the bones and grinding the 
 smaller ones with his teeth until there was scarcely a 
 vestige of the bird left in the dish. When he took leave 
 of PhiUis and Abe, he handed each of them a quar- 
 
 c 70 ] 
 
FIFTH BAKING 
 
 ter of a dollar and remarked that he had never tasted 
 so exquisite a dish of any kind of game before in all 
 his life, and that if Phillis would come to New York 
 and cook for his club at Tontine Coffee House, he could 
 insure her wages enough to drive a coach and six, at- 
 tended by some half a dozen colored footmen and out- 
 riders. Nor was this all, for a few days afterward my 
 grandfather received a letter from his young friend in 
 which he dwelt enthusiastically on the great treat he 
 had received in Narragansett, closing with the request 
 that my grandfather would accept from him a pair of 
 canvas-back ducks that he had just forwarded via 
 Newport by packet, as a trifling acknowledgment of 
 his hospitality and of the wonderful skill in the prepa- 
 ration and roasting of woodcock possessed by his in- 
 estimable colored cook. 
 
 The canvas-back ducks arrived safely in due sea- 
 son, and were roasted by Phillis in her best fashion 
 to supplement a dinner, the chief ingredient of which 
 was a saddle of real home-raised Rhode Island wether 
 mutton, which, as everybody knows, is by all odds a 
 thousand times better than any other mutton in the 
 world. After the mutton was removed, the canvas- 
 backs were brought on the table smoking hot, and 
 done to a turn and a charm, in every particular. The 
 mutton, however, had proved so delicious, that none 
 of the great-room folks did more than taste a morsel 
 of the game ducks, and the whole of one and more 
 than half of the other went to the kitchen table. In less 
 than a quarter of an hour thereafter all six of the little 
 niggs and niggresses came to the great-room door, 
 every one sniveling and complaining to my grand- 
 C 71 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 mother that cross old Phillis would n't give them any 
 mutton to eat and wanted them to make their dinner 
 on them old canvas-backs ! 
 
 As I have got too near the close of this paper to fin- 
 ish telling how Phillis, my grandfather's cook, was the 
 remote cause of the French Revolution, and the death 
 of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, I will defer that 
 interesting topic to another paper, and go back to the 
 Rhode Island turkey, which, as everybody knows, as 
 well as other readers of the Journal, sells in the Boston 
 market for three cents per pound higher than any other 
 turkey. This is owing, in part, to the manner of rais- 
 ing, feeding, and dressing the turkey in Rhode Island, 
 and in part to the salubrious and genial Gulf Stream 
 atmosphere, let Grinnager say what he may, that pre- 
 vails in the southern partof the Ancient Atlantis, now 
 called Newport county and Narragansett. The real 
 Rhode Island turkey is large in size, and black and 
 shiny in aspect. He eats plentifully of milk curdled 
 with rennet when in infancy, and in boyhood feeds 
 largely on grasshoppers, better known in the olden 
 time as hoppergrasses. The curdled milk, whether sour 
 or sweet before adding the rennet is immaterial, keeps 
 the infant turkey from the gasps and the bowel com- 
 plaint, which in its absence, or if fed on milk that sours 
 itself, with no rennet added to rectify, carries off great 
 numbers of the younglings at about the age of three 
 or four weeks. 
 
 After the season of grasshoppers is over, turkeys 
 
 should be fed to the full on hard, sound Rhode Island 
 
 corn, which is incomparably richer and more oily in 
 
 quality than the western chaffy stuff, two bushels of it, 
 
 C 72 ] 
 
FIFTH BAKING 
 
 as I am informed by those who have carefully tested 
 it, containing as much fattening material as three bush- 
 els of western corn. If turkeys can run in the fall months 
 where they get a plentiful supply of Tallman sweetings 
 and other nutritious sweet apples, the fruit will add to 
 the juiciness and flavor of the flesh. To be first-rate, 
 turkeys intended for the Boston market, or for anybody 
 with a palate in his throat, should never be fatted on 
 meal, not even if made from ambrosia, for the reason 
 that when ground a larger and grosser portion goes to 
 the flesh than when fed in the grain, and consequently 
 the bird is not of so delicate a flavor. This rule holds 
 good in an eminent degree in the making of pork and 
 hams, one pound of hard corn and pure water-fed pork 
 or hams being worth to a person of taste, and who 
 knows what is what, full ten pounds of soft pork fatted 
 on meal, and at least five hundred pounds of greasy, 
 slushy, soft, nauseous swill-fed pork such as is often 
 seen on the tables of the foremost hotels in the land. 
 
 When the turkey is well fattened , say anywhere from 
 Thanksgiving to Christmas, before being prepared for 
 market or home use, he should be shut up and kept 
 without food for some eighteen hours. Then suspend 
 the sacred creature from a spike above, carefully by a 
 stout cord or string tied around both legs, and holding 
 the head downward reverently but quickly cut asun- 
 der the jugular vein, and just as soon as the breath 
 leaves pluck off" the feathers before the body gets cold. 
 This done, remove the crop and entrails without loss of 
 time, restoring the liver and gizzard, when the latter 
 is cleansed of the gravelly contents and its inside skin. 
 Then tie a string around the body and both wings and 
 
 C 73 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 also around both legs, and hang him up in a cool, dry- 
 place for from two to three days. You will then have 
 a superior dish, if properly seasoned and roasted, to any- 
 other known animal, fowl, or fish, whether wild game 
 or domestic, on this or any- other terraqueous globe 
 within the scope of man's knowledge. A bird that lam 
 sure Jove must prize far above his eagle, and as little 
 like the still-swill, barley-meal, potato-fed turkey of 
 New York and othercities andstates as possible, which, 
 as a rule, are first stuifed with foul feed to repletion 
 and then soused into scalding water to save a minute's 
 labor in plucking the feathers, and again often suifered 
 to lie sweltering for weeks, until they become hideous 
 through the foulness of their own fermenting ordure, 
 and lastly dry baked in an oven and placed before the 
 nabobs of New York, a large portion of whom have no 
 more palate in their mouths than a lobster. To such a 
 foul bird as I have last described, the Rhode Island 
 dry-dressed angelic turkey is as totally^ unlike and more 
 so than the Dutch bedeviled turkeyof New York is un- 
 like a roasted carrion-gorging turkey buzzard stuifed 
 with its own foul oifal. To illustrate, I disremember the 
 exact time when my father and I accepted an invita- 
 tion from a former Mayor of New York, a family con- 
 nection, to dine ^ith a Milord and Milady, friends of 
 his who had lately arrived from England. There was 
 a magnificent looking baked turkey on the board that 
 seemed ready to burst with a superabundance of stuf- 
 fing. My lady, being helped to a plentiful supply of the 
 seasoning, politely expressed a wish after tasting it, to 
 get a receipt for its making. Our host accordingly sum- 
 moned Biddy to the door of the dining-room and asked 
 C 74 ] 
 
FIFTH BAKING 
 
 her to explain to Milady the secret of her turkey sea- 
 soning and to reveal to her its component parts. 
 
 "And is it after the inside fixings her ladyship is 
 axing, your honor? Why then shure and her ladyship 
 ijiust axe the haithen Dutchman who sent the animal 
 home by your honor's nagur ! For didn't I prepare as 
 illigant a mixture as was ever set before a peg in old 
 Ireland, and when I come to apply it to the insides of 
 the bird, didn't I perceive that before the blackguard 
 biled the poor thing's feathers clean off its back and 
 all, and all, he had crammed it so full of his own bad 
 smelling engradients before it was dead, bad luck to 
 the thaif, that the deil of a tayspoonful of my foine 
 mixture could the blessed Vargin herself, not for the 
 love of Jasus and all the saints, have forced into aither 
 end of the craythur, at all, at all ! " 
 
 C 75 ] 
 
Sixth Baking 
 
 I SUPPOSE impatient readers may think it about 
 time I told how it happened that my grandfather's 
 super-excellent cook, Phillis, was the remote cause of the 
 French Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI and 
 Marie Antoinette, and so after dwelling a little longer 
 on the unequaled excellences of the never-enough-to- 
 be-praised, corn-fed, dry-dressed Rhode Island turkey, 
 I will proceed to gratify their harmless curiosity, on 
 that point. 
 
 Singular enough, it was doubtless mostly owing to 
 the superlative flavor of a well-fattened, well-killed, 
 ^\ell-picked, well-dry-dressed Rhode Island turkey, 
 that caused almost every species of wild fowl in the 
 olden time to multiply in Narragansett almost beyond 
 belief. My brother Joseph just now writes me from 
 London that he remembers when tens of thousands of 
 marsh birds, yellow legs, plover, kill-willetts, &c., Sec, 
 used to be on the marshes of the Narrow Pettaquam- 
 scutt river and Salt pond all through the autumn, and 
 vast multitudes of wild ducks therein until the ice 
 drove most of them out, after which every airhole would 
 be full of them all winter, and of wild geese in their 
 season, especially in the night and on stormy days. I 
 have myself seen of a morning on the farm on which 
 the Tower Hill House now stands, flocks of wild geese, 
 and as many black ducks or more, gathered under 
 the bushes on the edge of the marsh, whilst the more 
 isolated and smaller ponds abounded with summer 
 duck and teal. In still earlier times so immense were the 
 
 C 76 ] 
 
SIXTH BAKING 
 
 flocks of teal, the best water fowl known when roasted 
 by Phillis, not excepting even the boasted wild, celery- 
 fed canvas-back of the Chesapeake, that it used to be 
 told when I was young, that Thomas H. Hazard, of 
 Little Neck Farm, and hence called Little Neck Tom, 
 the father of the late Sylvester R. and Dr. R.R. Hazard, 
 of Newport, once shot with a single sweep of his long 
 duck gun in the North Narragansett Pier pond fifty-one 
 teal that he got, and then followed the remainder of the 
 flock to the south pond, where he again raised them, 
 and with another sweeping shot of his gun brought 
 down forty-nine more, makingjust one hundred teal at 
 the two shots. My brother writes further, "I remem- 
 ber very well when black ducks built their nests on 
 Point Judith, and I have often flushed them among 
 the huckleberry and other bushes. I have also seen a 
 partridge at roost on my barn at Sea Side. I have seen 
 as many as twenty English snipe at one time about your 
 upper pond reservoir in Rocky Brook, since 1825." 
 Again, my brother says, ' ' I can remember when there 
 used to be acres of wild ducks, widgeons, broadbills, 
 dippers, &c., Sec, in the salt lake that bounds Point 
 Judith on the west, whilst the marshes and hills on its 
 borders swarmed with countless green-headed plover, 
 black breasts, canvas-back plover, curlews, meadow 
 larks, &c., &c., &c. Why! even as late as 1835, lean 
 remember there were multitudes of teal and other duck 
 in almost every stream, pond, and even mud-hole in 
 Narragansett. Partridges and quails were plenty every- 
 where. I remember that the late Benjamin Had wen, 
 since 1837, kept his horses in a barn that stood a little 
 south-west of Saunders Coates' house at the North Pier. 
 
 [ 77 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 He had to walk from his house to his barn — about 250 
 yards — to attend to his horses, and habitually took his 
 gun in his hand to shoot such game as he might see 
 on his way. Benjamin told me that he killed ninety- 
 two quail on this short beat in one winter. 
 
 "I recollect that a partridge, the pheasant of Penn- 
 sylvania and grouse of Long Island, was found one 
 morning at roost in a coil of rope on the deck of the 
 pier sloop, as she lay at the wharf. 
 
 "Bob Billington, now 80, who is a reliable man 
 about such things, told me some few years ago that 
 when he was a boy he could kill more ducks in the 
 litde ponds in Point Judith, with stones, than can now 
 be killed with a gun." 
 
 I remember when many years ago the late Cap- 
 tain Jeremiah Whaley, of Narragansett Pier, arranged 
 with a neighbor to go shooting for one week, Sunday 
 excepted, for sea-fowl at the season they were passing 
 from North to South. They stood on the rocks that 
 bound the shore a litde south of Narragansett Pier, and 
 shot the birds on the wing as they followed the coast 
 line. The two bagged in the six days six hundred head. 
 On one day the weather proved very cold, and to keep 
 his dog who swam off the rocks to bring in the game, 
 from freezing. Captain Whaley covered him up with 
 his pea-jacket or coat, taken off his own shoulders. 
 
 And now methinks I hear some captious reader, 
 whose powers of analysis are not sufficiently acute to 
 enable him to trace effects to causes and vice versa to 
 exclaim, "What upon airth had a dry-dressed, corn- 
 fed, well-cooked Rhode Island turkey to do with mak- 
 ing wild fowl so abundant in the olden times? " Well, 
 [ 78 ] 
 
SIXTH BAKING 
 
 let me answer, has not Sir Knoivall yet learned that the 
 mightiest effects have generally, if not always, flowed 
 from causes apparently trivial and disconnected with 
 great results that follow in their train? Was not, let 
 me ask, the cause of the famous island in the Tiber 
 simply a bull's hide lodged by accident in the stream? 
 Was not the firm land in the midst of the river Seine 
 in Paris, on which the great temple Notre Dame ap- 
 parently so firmly stands, caused simply by the acci- 
 dental lodgment of a shock of wheaten corn? Was 
 not one of the longest and most bloody wars that ever 
 devastated Europe caused simply by a diamond neck- 
 lace? Was not the thoughtless biting of an apple by 
 mother Eve the cause of consigning a thousand mil- 
 lion of myriads and more of human beings to an ever 
 burning hell of fire and brimstone? 
 
 Was not, in short, the terrible bloody revolution of 
 France and the death of Marie Antoinette caused 
 simply by my grandfather's famous and inimitable 
 cookPhilhs in — but I forget that I have not yet told 
 how the Rhode Island corn-fed, dry-dressed, nicely 
 cooked a la Phillis roast turkey caused almost every 
 species of wild fowl to multiply in theolden time in Nar- 
 ragansett almost beyond belief. To make the explana- 
 tion and tell the whole story, as it were in a nutshell, 
 I will say it was after this wise : In the good olden time, 
 society in Narragansett and mostly elsewhere was di- 
 vided, very much like SanchoPanza's family relatives, 
 into two classes, viz. : The ' ' Have Somethings, ' ' whom 
 that doughty Squire averred he greatly respected and 
 loved, and ever clung to through thick and thin, and 
 the " Have Nothings," whom the same discriminat- 
 
 [ 79 ^ 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 ing individual held in supreme contempt and always 
 avoided. Noav it so happened that the first named of 
 these classes in Narragansett, having the wherewithal 
 to luxuriate on corn-fed, dry-dressed, nicely roasted 
 Rhode Island turkeys, became by second nature so fas- 
 tidious in their taste that they had no desire to partake 
 of less dainty game, and therefore never troubled them- 
 selves about the numerous tribes of wild fowl that 
 abounded in its waters, forests, swamps, and marshes, 
 and on its plains and hillsides. Powder and shot being 
 high in price, and cash articles, were wholly out of the 
 reach of the "Have Nothings," and consequently the 
 only way the meaner sort of livers could obtain the in- 
 ferior kind of game, such as snipe, woodcock, teal, wild 
 geese, and ducks, &c., when compared with the corn- 
 fed, dry-dressed, nicely roasted Rhode Island turkey 
 was after the manner pursued by Bob Billington, as 
 described by my brother Joseph, by shying stones at 
 them, either out of the hand or sling. After the manu- 
 facturing business became established in Narragansett 
 and fourfolded the wages of the laboring class, and 
 Gust Hazard, a Narragansett boy, had gone to Enfield, 
 Conn., and cheapened the price of gunpowder, every 
 factory boy in South Kingstown was enabled to pass 
 his holidays and Sundays roaming about the country 
 with a gun in his hand — and now so scarce is game 
 thereabout that scarcely a chippen bird or ground spar- 
 row is to be seen, nor can they hardly light on a stone 
 heap without being fired at, whilst nearly every other 
 species of game has become extinct, unless it be the 
 woodchuck, which, owing probably to his wonderful 
 cunning, and little value of his hide or carcass, seems 
 
 C 8° ] 
 
SIXTH BAKING 
 
 to defy all attempts to exterminate his race. I will 
 narrate, as a specimen of his wily ways, the following 
 circumstance : I was many years ago riding along in 
 the driftway that used to run on the west side of Apple 
 Tree Plain, a little north of Peace Dale, when I spied 
 a woodchuck, and a freak of fancy incited me to give 
 chase to him on horseback. He had ventured some con- 
 siderable distance from his hole, and before he reached 
 it I came up with him and was preparing to dismount 
 and seize him, when he suddenly fell as dead as a door 
 nail. I took him up and laid him on the pommel of my 
 saddle, and carried him home and into the house. None 
 of us could discern the slightest sign of life in the crea- 
 ture, but as his limbs and body remained supple and 
 warm, I thought it possible he might be playing pos- 
 sum. So I took him out into a field near by and threw 
 him on the ground some ten rods or so from a stone 
 wall. I remember he fell with his head partly doubled 
 under his body so that he must have lain in a very 
 uncomfortable position, but still I could not see that he 
 made the least movement. I then hid behind the wall 
 and peeked through it to watch the result. After a few 
 minutes the chuck slowly worked his head out from be- 
 neath his body, and very slily raised it and took a gen- 
 eral survey of the situation. Seemingly satisfied that no 
 enemy was cognizant of his presence, he started to 
 run for the wall directly where I lay behind it, which 
 was the nearest point. I jumped over the wall when, 
 finding himself headed off, down he dropped again as 
 dead as a hatchet. So after repeating the experiment 
 again and again, with like result, I thought I would 
 let the knowing creature live, and leaving him to find 
 
 c 81 : 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 his way home as best he might, I went about my busi- 
 ness. I will just here say for the benefit of such readers 
 as may not be acquainted with the reach of ground 
 that was some fifty years ago called Apple Tree Plain, 
 that it lies a little south-east of the narrow causeway 
 that passes over a western arm of the Peace Dale mill- 
 pond on which the late Hon. Elisha R. Potter once 
 chanced to meet a pedler with his tin cart near the cen- 
 tre of the causeway. It being impossible to pass each 
 other, and neither party seeming disposed to back out, 
 Mr. Potter took a newspaper from his pocket and set- 
 tled himself back in his seat as if he had the design 
 of staying until the pedler gave ground to him. After 
 continuing to read for an hour or so, the pedler at 
 length broke silence and commenced conversation by 
 ejaculating in an interrogatory tone," I say, Squire?" 
 ' ' Well, ' ' said Mr. Potter, ' ' what have you got to pro- 
 pose?" " Nothing," replied the pedler, "only to re- 
 mark that when your honor has committed that news- 
 paper to heart, you will please allow me a chance to 
 peruse it! " Mr. Potter thought it was no use to con- 
 tend with such a customer and so backed his horse to 
 the other end of the causeway and let the pedler pass 
 on his way. 
 
 Christmas was jolly in the olden time. Three great 
 young gobblers used tobe roasted at my grandfather's 
 on that occasion, two for the kitchen folks and one for 
 the great-room folks, with warm cranberry sauce, 
 dumplings, and onions to match. Every darkey in 
 Narragansett who could claim relationship in the ninth 
 degree with one of their race who had belonged to any 
 of my grandfather's ancestors felt that they had as 
 
 [ 83 ] 
 
SIXTH BAKING 
 
 good a right in the house on Christmas eve and the 
 twelve holidays following, as any of the heirs at law ; 
 and oh ! did n't they have a jolly time ! As I remem- 
 ber, there was, in the good old time, always a terrible 
 snow-storm on Christmas night, and the whole of the 
 next day. But who cared for that ! There was a great 
 pile of logs and wood stowed away in the big wash- 
 room to burn, and plenty of roast turkeys, and mince 
 and pumpkin pies to eat, to say nothing of the scores 
 of other good things. As I have before hinted, the 
 Christmas back-log was a heap sight bigger and longer 
 than the boiler of a seventy-five horse power locomo- 
 tive. Portip always sat on one end of the log on the 
 occasion with his fife, and Scip on the other with his 
 fiddle ! and such music ! Talk about your opera music ! 
 I have heard it again and again, and I can aver with a 
 clear conscience that it never seemed half as lively as 
 Pomp's fife or Scip's fiddle used to M^hen I was a small 
 boy, while old Mose's Guinea songs sounded in my 
 ear a thousand times more divine than I ever heard 
 from the throat of Jenny Lind or any other nightin- 
 gale singer. And then the dancing ! Why ! Old Phillis, 
 my grandfather's cook, was as rotund and fat as any 
 other cook in Narragansett, and yet I have seen her, 
 when full dressed in her big white homespun apron 
 reaching clean round her middle and tied behind, and 
 from her chin down to her ankles ; I have seen her, 
 I say, when a small boy, start at the hearth and whirl 
 around in the air six times before she reached the 
 farther end of the kitchen, which was at least fifty 
 feet long, if I remember, and then make a whirl the 
 other way, and so whirl back again in the air just as 
 I 83 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 she went, to where she started from. And there was 
 long-legged Sam, too, who had a way of his own of 
 fetching a terrific screech like a catamount, and then 
 darting forward to the middle of the floor and striking 
 the ceiling behind him with the heel of one foot, at the 
 same moment that he kicked it before him with the 
 toe of the other foot. I can't say that I ever saw Sam 
 execute this feat, as it was generally performed past 
 midnight, after I was sent to bed, but then I have 
 heard him screech and remember seeing the two holes 
 that Mose told me that Sam kicked in the plastering, 
 that were, if my memory serves, about sixteen feet 
 apart. This seems, it is true, a great distance for any 
 man to straddle, black or white, but then it must be 
 remembered that Sam was uncommonly tall, and most 
 all legs at that. Nor did these Christmas holiday gam- 
 bols cease with the advent of the sun, which Phillis 
 used to shut out of the windows with curtains most 
 of the time, because she said it darkened the room by 
 stealing light from her blazing fire. The day after 
 Christmas there was always a great snow-bank piled 
 up against the north kitchen window, at least ten feet 
 high . I disremember the name of a burly descendant of 
 one of my grandfather's great-grandfather's negroes, 
 who used to spend his Christmas holidays at our house. 
 The fellow would open a window opposite the big 
 snow-bank and then lay himself flat on his face on the 
 floor beneath it, and raise his head, arms, shoulders, 
 feet, legs, thighs, and all, entirely off" the floor, so that 
 he would just bear on a small part of the middle of his 
 belly, and then begin to work the muscles that lie con- 
 tiguous to the navel until, through their force and ac- 
 C 84 ] 
 
SIXTH BAKING 
 
 tion alone, he would fetch a sudden spring and throw 
 himself full length through the open window without 
 touching its sides or sill, and bury himself entirely 
 out of sight in the snow-bank outside. I can't say that 
 I ever saw this feat performed with my own eyes, but 
 then I remember seeing the snow-bank and heard 
 Mose tell all about seeing it done, whose word I then 
 had and still have as implicit faith in as I have in that 
 of Moses of the Pentateuch. And, oh, what splendid 
 stories these old nigs, gathered from all quarters of 
 Narragansett, used to tell me and the six little nigs 
 and niggresses ! Many a time have I sat scrooched up 
 in the kitchen corner, and trembling all over with fear, 
 listening to their stories of the big lions, snakes a thou- 
 sand feet long, and giants, in Guinea, with my eyes 
 fixed intently on the great-room door waiting to see it 
 opened by some one, when I would scamper as fast as 
 my legs would carry me so as to get in before it was 
 shut again. 
 
 As in everything else, Mose excelled in story-telling. 
 If I was to live through three eternities, I know I should 
 never forget his telling about the black gal who went 
 down into the swamp graping, in Guinea, when she 
 was "cocht" by an old giant who tore her into four 
 pieces and hanged one hind quarter on a swamp oak 
 tree and the other on a maple tree, whilst he hanged 
 one of her fore quarters on a chestnut tree and the other 
 on a walnut tree. Even now that I am in my eighty- 
 third year, I seldom see a wild grape-vine loaded with 
 fox grapes, that I do not think of old Mose's story, 
 which I devoutly believed in, into advanced boyhood. 
 In fact, if it had not been for that born devil, Abe, I 
 C 85 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 am not sure but that so deeply would my spirit have 
 been imbued with faith in Mose's story about the giant 
 and the black gal, that I should have believed in it to 
 this day, just as thousands of others do in equally mar- 
 velous stories merely through the force of early edu- 
 cation and then constantly hearing them through life. 
 The way my faith first became shaken in the divine 
 authority of Mose was after this wise: One shiny even- 
 ing as I stood in the back door looking at the moon, 
 then nearly full, Mose asked me if I did n't want a bit 
 of it. On my telling him that I did, he told me to keep 
 my eyes on the moon, and he would knock off a piece 
 of it for me. Suiting his action to his word, Mose shyed 
 a piece of slate stone at the moon, and then stooping 
 down picked up something yellow which he said he had 
 knocked off one side of the moon, as I could see if I 
 looked closely at it. I picked up the shiny thing at my 
 feet and then observed that it was shaped so as to fit 
 exactly on one side of the moon, off of which I now for 
 the first time observed a small crescent-shaped piece 
 had been knocked by the stone shyed at it by Mose. I 
 kept the shiny piece and showed it to Abe, who made 
 fun of it, and said that it was nothing but a piece of 
 "old yaller punkin rind. "^ This made me mad, and 
 I told Mose what Abe said. To my surprise Mose said 
 that what Abe said was true, and that the moon was 
 nothing but a great yaller punkin that grew on a long 
 vine that dangled down from heaven. This raised the 
 first doubt in niy mind of the perfect verity of the word 
 of Mose, but nevertheless I could never bear the sight 
 of Abe afterwards, because he was the means of shak- 
 ing my faith in what I had imbibed in my infancy as 
 C 86] 
 
SIXTH BAKING 
 
 truth, and still wanted, like all other people on earth, 
 of whatever race, color, or nation, to believe in to my 
 dying day. 
 
 In the olden time each dish of meat or fowl had its 
 own special proper fixings, which with all good livers 
 were deemed indispensable. Roast beef, for instance, 
 was always accompanied with a Yorkshire pudding 
 and cranberry sauce ; roast mutton with currant jelly ; 
 boiled mutton with round turnips; roast lamb with 
 mint sauce and green peas ; roast veal with horse rad- 
 ish, lemons, if to be had, asparagus, and dandelions, 
 the best and wholesomest green in the world if prop- 
 erly boiled with a portion of the root attached. Roast 
 turkey was always attended with boiled rice, onions, 
 and cranberry sauce. The specialties of roast goose and 
 ducks were onions and apple sauce, the big cat-head 
 apple being the finest grained, the best, and the tartest 
 of all for the purpose. 
 
 Speaking of cat-heads brings to my mind a cat story 
 that I will relate in my next, previous to entering upon 
 my long-deferred account of how Phillis, my grand- 
 father's renowned cook, came to be the remote cause 
 of the French Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI 
 and Marie Antoinette. 
 
 C 87 ] 
 
Seventh Baking 
 
 THE cat story that popped into my head on men- 
 tion of the cat-head or pie-apple, at the close of 
 my last chapter, was after this wise. There were liv- 
 ing at my grandfather's house, in Narragansett, fifteen 
 full-grown cats all told, besides some litters of kittens. 
 One first-day forenoon, when all the great-room folks 
 had gone to Quaker meeting, excepting me, who had 
 torn my breeches purposely that morning so that I might 
 be left at home, Abe and I arranged to have a good time. 
 So we shut the inside shutters of the great-room, thus 
 excluding the light, all but what got through a little 
 heart-shaped hole at the top of each pair of shutters, 
 and then set ourselves to catch the cats and shut them 
 in the dark room. After an hour's work, we succeeded 
 in grabbing and shutting up fourteen of the number, 
 including the great yaller tom-cat, which was nigh upon 
 as big as a catamountain. There was, however, an old 
 black cat that took to the cock-loft of the garret, which 
 Abe finally declared the Devil himself could n't get if 
 he tried to. The cock-loft was very dark, and we could 
 see nothing but the old sarpent's eyes looking like two 
 balls of fire, and when we went softly to the place, they 
 showed themselves in another corner of the cock-loft. So 
 we gave her up, and went down to the great-room, into 
 which we shut ourselves with the fourteen cats, which 
 were of all the colors of the rainbow, including several 
 other shades to boot. Next, Abe and I each got a win- 
 dow-stick and went to chasing the cats like mad around 
 the room, occasionally hitting one on the head or 
 C 88 ] 
 
SEVENTH BAKING 
 
 wherever came handiest. After racing round and round 
 a few times, the great yallercat darted into the fireplace 
 and up the chimney, followed by the whole drove. 
 
 Just at this time old Kit Potter, the Tower Hill 
 cooper, chanced to be coming down the lane, and see- 
 ing the cats pouring out of the top of the chimney, he 
 hurried back to his house and told his wife that she 
 needn't dispute with him any longer about Hazard's 
 house being haunted, for he had just seen more than 
 five hundred witches sitting on the roof, and more 
 coming out of the chimney. 
 
 The cat-head or pie-apple is peculiarly adapted to 
 making apple sauce and pies, inasmuch as it is not only 
 one of the earliest of apples, but has a singularly fine, 
 soft, pulpy grain. In fact, it is by all true Narragan- 
 setters acknowledged that the fruits that grow in that 
 latitude are far superior in quality and lusciousness 
 in Washington and Newport counties than anywhere 
 else, with one exception, on this terraqueous globe. This 
 is owing, in a great measure, to the general softness of 
 the Gulf Stream air that there'pervades. The exception 
 I make is a district of country lying between the Eu- 
 phrates and the Tigris rivers in ancient Assyria, where 
 the Garden of Eden was situated. Owing to the bland, 
 soft, warm south-western breezes from thePersian Gulf 
 that fan this delightful region, the climate of the coun- 
 try, for some distance from the sea, very much resem- 
 bles that of the southern coast of the Ancient Atlantis, 
 though perhaps not quite equal to the latter in its 
 delightful temperature, or in the quality of its fruits 
 and other vegetable productions. 
 
 On the north, contiguous to Vaucluse, in Ports- 
 C 89 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 mouth, R. I., the residence of "Shepherd Tom," 
 there lies the old Isaac Chase farm, which in the olden 
 time was owned and occupied, in the summer season, 
 by Mr. Bowler,^ a rich East India merchant of New- 
 port. Mr. Bowler had a beautiful garden and took great 
 delight in beautifying his grounds and hot-houses with 
 exotics from all parts of the world. On one occasion a 
 Captain Green Chausan, of one of Mr. Bowler's East 
 India ships, chanced to rescue from shipwreck a prince 
 of the royal blood of Persia, whose father, in the fervor 
 of his gratitude for saving and restoring to him his son, 
 presented to the captain from his own garden, situated 
 on the site of the ancient Garden of Eden, a young ap- 
 ple tree growing in a porcelain tub, which was declared 
 to be one of the few direct lineal descendants of the 
 tree of knowledge. On his arrival in Newport, Captain 
 Chausan as in duty bound presented the young tree 
 to his employer, Mr. Bowler, who was delighted be- 
 yond measure ^ith the precious gift, and thought to 
 guard and protect it by placing it in a hot-house, some 
 remains of which are yet to be seen, but was admon- 
 ished in a dream by an angel, claiming to be Mother 
 Eve, to do no such thing, as the climate of southern 
 Rhode Island was, if anything, a little more favora- 
 ble to its growth than that of southern Assyria, from 
 whence it was removed. Mr. Bo^\'ler had such faith in 
 the vision that he had the tree carefully removed from 
 the tub or vase with the earth attached and trans- 
 planted into Rhode Island soil, ^\'here it grew and 
 flourished beyond his most sanguine expectations, and 
 finally developed into what has ever since been called 
 the Rhode Island greening. 
 
 C 90 ] 
 
SEVENTH BAKING 
 
 The Rhode Island greening is acknowledged the 
 world over to be the richest and finest flavored apple 
 in the universe, provided it grows on the sunny out- 
 side branches of the tree, and is allowed to hang and 
 ripen until the last of October, or middle of Novem- 
 ber, if possible. I want readers, however, to understand 
 that nowhere else on earth, except in the region I have 
 indicated, viz. : the Garden of Eden in Assyria and 
 the Garden of Eden in Rhode Island, the Ancient xAt- 
 lantis, can the Rhode Island greening be grown in per- 
 fection. It is true that grafts from the genuine Rhode 
 Island Assyrian tree have been widely cultivated in 
 most of the Eastern and Northern States of the Union, 
 but nowhere out of the halloAved limits I have desig- 
 nated can an apple of any kind be found that compares 
 in flavor with the Rhode Island greening of Eden, any 
 more than a swill-fed, hot- water-picked, live-stuffed, 
 French or Irish baked New York turkey compares 
 in delightful delicacy and flavor with a grasshopper, 
 corn, and Tallman sweeting fed, dry-dressed, a la 
 PhiUis roasted Rhode Island turkey. Until they got to 
 sending spurious greenings to London from New York 
 and Boston, the Rhode Island greening sold by far the 
 highest in that market of any apple known. 
 
 During the latter part of the Revolutionary War, the 
 Marquis Lafayette used to stay alternately at Row- 
 land Robinson's in Narragansett and at Mr. Bowler's 
 in Portsmouth. On the occasion of a visit of General 
 Washington to Newport, Mr. Bowler gave him a so- 
 cial dinner party, which in that day was considerately 
 and wisely limited to eight in number, who sat at a 
 round table of the exact circumference required for 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 the comfortable seating of the guests. These consisted 
 of General Washington, the Marquis Lafayette and 
 his host, Mr. Bowler, Count Rochambeau, Admiral De 
 Tierney, Rev. Ezra Styles, Parson Hopkins, and Wil- 
 liam Ellery. Thinking to give his French guests an 
 unexpected treat, Mr. Bowler had prepared for the oc- 
 casion, a dozen bottles of cider, made from the sunny- 
 side half of mello\v Rhode Island greenings gathered 
 from the tree in November, which he had labeled 
 Eden Champagne. Mine host had also prepared for the 
 entertainment, a quantity of two kinds of the best 
 brands of French champagne, which Mr. Bowler 
 requested his guests to taste in turn and favor him 
 with their opinion of the separate qualities. A sip was 
 taken first of each kind from full glasses of the French 
 wine, but ^vhen the Eden champagne was raised by 
 his guests to their lips, in every instance the glass was 
 drained below the customary heel-tap before it was set 
 down again. The French gentlemen severally testified 
 that they had never tasted anything so divine at any 
 court in Europe as Eden champagne, and speaking 
 wiser than they knew, they one and all declared that 
 it could be no other than the fabled nectar of the gods. 
 When the t\velfth bottle was finished and Mr. Bowler 
 apologized to his guests for not being able to furnish 
 any more of the kind, all of his secular guests except 
 Washington shed many tears, whilst the parsons, 
 after draining the last drop from their glasses, both 
 lifted up their voices and ^vept aloud. In his soberer 
 moments, upon learning that the Eden champagne he 
 had drank with such gusto at Mr. Bowler's table ^vas 
 simplv Rhode Island greening cider. Dr. Hopkins was 
 [ 92 ] 
 
SEVENTH BAKING 
 
 heard to remark that he should always henceforth have 
 more charity for Mother Eve's unfortunate slip, by 
 which she had been the cause of consigning some mil- 
 lions of myriads of men and women to an endless hell 
 of fire and brimstone, to say nothing of as many more 
 infants, as he was not sure if a bottle of the cider made 
 of the same kind of apple was placed before him when 
 he was dry, that he would be able to resist the temp- 
 tation of tasting it, even if the penalty attached to his 
 doing so was to be his own everlasting damnation ! 
 
 The tree of the genuine Rhode Island greening is 
 unique in its manner of growth and of great size. In 
 Washington and Newport counties it often reaches a 
 gigantic size, with its limbs spreading out some thirty 
 feet in every direction from a central platform a few 
 feet from the ground. I remember seeing a greening 
 tree many years ago, in the Captain Phillips orchard, 
 just south of the compact part of the city of Newport, 
 the main branches of which spread so widely and 
 symmetrically from the main stem near the ground, 
 that invited parties used to seat themselves around 
 a table and the platform made by the united limbs, 
 and take their tea. Another peculiarity of the Rhode Is- 
 land greening tree is the exceeding crookedness of 
 its branches. I have heard travelers who have been in 
 nearly every country on the globe say that nowhere else 
 but in southern Rhode Island have they ever seen ap- 
 ple trees of such gigantic size or such wide-spreading 
 and peculiarly crooked limbs. I remember hearing the 
 late Daniel E. Updike, of East Greenwich, relate that 
 on one of his brothers coming home from college, 
 his father, who lived near Wickford,. in Washington 
 
 [ 93 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 county, thinking to make a farmer of his son, sent him 
 out into Connecticut to buy a dozen cows for dairy 
 purposes. On being asked by his father in the evening 
 of his return, after several days' absence, what luck he 
 had experienced in buying cows, the young college- 
 bred farmer said that cows were rather scarce, but that 
 he had succeeded in buying a score of goats, which 
 he thought might answer the purpose of a dairy as 
 well or better than cows, as he was told they eat less 
 and at the same time gave richer milk. The young 
 man in answer to his father's queries further said that 
 he had turned the flock for the night into the old green- 
 ing orchard. The next morning the old gentleman, 
 who, unlike his college-bred son, was an early riser, 
 walked out to the orchard to take a view of his new 
 kind of COXA'S, but not seeing anything of the goats, 
 concluded, as he devoutly hoped, that they had scaled 
 the walls and returned home. As he turned to go back 
 to the house, his attention was directed to the top 
 branches of one of the crooked-limbed, wide-spread 
 apple trees by a peculiar sound he heard, when lo and 
 behold, he discovered his son's dairy all perched up 
 in the branches of his favorite greening trees luxuri- 
 ating on the apple blossoms. From that hour the old 
 man concluded that however well adapted a collegiate 
 education as then — and now — conducted was to the 
 professions of law, medicine, and divinity, it was worse 
 than useless when applied to agriculture. 
 
 To return from this digression to the quality of the 
 fruits and vegetables of southern Atlantis, I may say 
 that the old-fashioned wild strawberry that used to 
 grow in my grandfather's cow pasture, on the eastern 
 
 C 94 ] 
 
SEVENTH BAKING 
 
 declivity of Tower Hill, was as far superior in delicacy 
 of texture and flavor to any coarse garden or cultivated 
 strawberry of the present day as a Narragansett wild 
 high blackberry is to a coarse pulped, tasteless, culti- 
 vated Lawton blackberry, which are as wide apart in 
 deliciousness as the North and South Poles are from 
 each other. In the olden times, wild strawberries used 
 to be so plenty in Narragansett that the hoofs of horses 
 taken out of the pasture of a morning would be dyed 
 red, as it were, with their juice. As to thatdivinest of 
 all berries, the high blackberry, it used to be so plen- 
 tiful in Narragansett that I remember when Thomas 
 R. Williams, about sixty years ago, embarked in the 
 blackberry wine business and offered one cent per 
 quart for fine high blackberries, such immense quan- 
 tities were brought him that he had to curtail his orders. 
 These berries were mostly gathered by the young wo- 
 men in the neighborhood, who paid at the time for 
 cotton cloth, if happily able to buy any, fifty cents per 
 yard to make their shifts of, or fifty quarts of black- 
 berries. Thus four yards of cloth to make a shift costs 
 two dollars, or two hundred quarts of blackberries. 
 Now the cloth sells for six cents per yard and black- 
 berries sell for ten cents or more a quart, so that two 
 hundred quarts of berries that formerly bought four 
 yards of cotton cloth to make a poor girl's shift will 
 now purchase — let me see — two hundred quarts at 
 ten cents per quart, amounts to twenty hundred cents, 
 $20, which, divided by six, the present retail price of 
 cotton shirtings, gives three hundred and thirty- three 
 yards and a fraction over for the same work as bought 
 four yards since my memory. Then there were no pub- 
 
 C 95 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 lie schools and but few manufactories. Now there are 
 a plenty of both, and the granddaughters of the poor 
 pickers of blackberries at one cent per quart, who were 
 glad in their day to get housework or any kind of menial 
 labor for twenty-five cents per week, are now earning 
 five dollars per week, or twenty times as much in money, 
 or one hundred and sixty times as much paid in cotton 
 cloth for their chemises. And yet these oppressed young 
 ladies are striking work in all directions for higher 
 wages ! Surely the millennium must be nearer at hand 
 than is supposed by the bloated manufacturers. 
 
 But now methinks I again hear some captious reader 
 exclaim, as before, what in the name of wonder has the 
 baking of a Rhode Island jonny-cake to do with the 
 price of cotton cloth, or how does it help to prove to 
 us that Phillis, your grandfather's accomplished cook, 
 was the remote cause of the French Revolution, and the 
 death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette? I answer 
 in the words of the poet : 
 
 ' ' What differs more say ye than crown and cowl ? 
 I tell ye, sirs, a wise man and a fool." 
 
 Thusly to the latter-named quadruped there is no rele- 
 vance, as I have before hinted, at all in a Rhode Island 
 j onny-cake and the price of cotton cloth , or in the French 
 Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie 
 Antoinette, for the simple reason that a biped of this 
 class, especially if educated in one of our present. mem- 
 ory-cramming common schools or most approved col- 
 leges or universities, know little or nothing but what 
 they have learned like parrots by rote. To such every 
 fact and incident of mortal and eternal life stand isolated 
 
 C 96 ] 
 
SEVENTH BAKING 
 
 and distinct from each other, they not having natural 
 gumption or understanding enough to analyze subjects 
 or reason from analogy. But not so with the wise man. 
 He, from the resources of his own mind, the god within 
 him, discerns a likeness in all things, and give him but 
 any one fact to begin with, though that be but a Rhode 
 Island jonny-cake, and he will make it a nucleus and 
 leading string, with which he will unlock and pene- 
 trate the secrets of all nature. Educate such a man 
 as this, and he will eschew the false and assimilate the 
 good and true to his own understanding, until he be- 
 comes a vojc Dei, or small god. Educate a fool, and I 
 care not how learned and scientific he may become, he 
 can only assimilate his acquired knowledge in the direc- 
 tion of his natural folly, and thereby become a more ac- 
 complished fool! This is the main reason why so many 
 of our scientific men, falsely, as Paul truly says, so 
 called, become such consummate though accomplished 
 blockheads ! They have nothing within them educated 
 but their memory, and when that has given forth all 
 that has been impressed upon it in school, they have 
 gone to the full length of their ability and are rendered 
 hors de combat whether in disquisition or argument. 
 
 Again, let me ask what right has any reader to ques- 
 tion the relevance of the price of cotton cloth or that of 
 a Rhode Island jonny-cake with the remote cause of 
 the French Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI 
 and Marie Antoinette? Such readers would doubtless 
 ridicule the idea that the successful termination of 
 the American Revolution of ' 76 had its remote cause 
 in certain knitting-bees held by the patriotic women 
 of the counties of Washington in Rhode Island and of 
 
 C 91 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 New London in Connecticut, and yet this might be 
 maintained thusly: — but I must defer the thusl}^ to 
 my eighth and next Rhode Island jonny-cake paper, 
 as well as the why and the wherefore that Phillis, 
 my grandfather's most consummate cook, was the 
 remote cause of the French Revolution, and the death 
 of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. 
 
 L 98 ] 
 
Eighth Baking 
 
 I THINK in my last paper I gave readers to un- 
 derstand that before I showed how it happened that 
 Phillis, my grandfather's never-to-be-forgotten accom- 
 plished cook, was the remote cause of the French Rev- 
 olution, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie An- 
 toinette, I would explain to them how certain knitting- 
 bees in Washington county, Rhode Island, and New 
 London county, Connecticut, happened to be the re- 
 mote cause of the successful termination of the War 
 of Independence. If all I have heard is true, it was 
 after this wise : In the severe winter of 1777 and 1778, 
 after the American troops had been foiled and defeated 
 in almost every direction, they took up their winter 
 quarters at Valley Forge, a deep gorge on the banks 
 of the Schuylkill, about twenty miles west-by-north 
 of Philadelphia. Such was the forlorn condition of his 
 little army that even Washington himself became al- 
 most hopelessly discouraged. The men arrived in small 
 detachments, more than half naked. The winter was 
 terribly severe, and the ground was early covered with 
 ice and snow. One detachment came into camp from 
 Whitemarsh, nineteen miles distant, literally bare- 
 footed, the ice and snow on the line of march being 
 actually saturated with blood from the naked feet of 
 the patriotic soldiers. Lord Howe was then in posses- 
 sion of Philadelphia, and of course no assistance could 
 be sent to the starving and freezing troops from that 
 city. The treasury was bankrupt, and the Continental 
 Congress was paralyzed and helpless. In his dire ex- 
 
 i99:\ 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 tremity Washington had no one to look to but to his 
 dear and ever reliable friend, Brother Jonathan Trum- 
 bull, of Lebanon, Connecticut. A trusty messenger was 
 dispatched to make known to him the critical situation 
 of the army, and if possible send a full supply of M^oolen 
 stockings for the suffering men. The very next morn- 
 ing after the messenger arrived, Brother Jonathan 
 mounted his horse in a snow-storm and rode through 
 New London county, exhorting on his way every 
 Avoman he could see to lose no time in prevailing on 
 her neighbors to commence making yarn and knitting 
 stockings for the suffering army. Brother Jonathan 
 next passed into the adjoining county of Washington 
 in Rhode Island, and took up his abode for a short 
 time with Jonathan J. Hazard, who was then the most 
 influential man in the state and a sterling patriot. The 
 next morning both the Jonathans sallied forth on horse- 
 back and stumped the county. Jonathan J. was decid- 
 edly a lady's man. He knew exactly how to approach 
 the fair sex in the most telling way. Not a matron did 
 he see but he complimented her good looks and made 
 moving appeals to her patriotism. Not a little girl did 
 he meet that he did not tell she was almost as pretty 
 as her mother. Not a little boy whose head he did not 
 pat and tell him in presence of his mamma, that he 
 was undoubtedly born to be a general, a colonel, a 
 captain, or a corporal. The two Jonathans were irre- 
 sistible. The whole county soon became electrified. 
 Knitting-bees were held on every afternoon and even- 
 ing and in every quarter ; and soon the soldiers were 
 all supplied with stockings, and mosdy by the patri- 
 otic women of the two counties named. By spring the 
 
 [ lOO ] 
 
EIGHTH BAKING 
 
 nice warm stockings had healed the lacerated feet 
 of the patriotic soldiers, who were thus rendered able 
 to march at any moment. The dilatory Howe was 
 removed from Philadelphia, and replaced by General 
 Clinton, who, upon learning the improved condition 
 and spirit of Washington's little army, became panic- 
 stricken and broke up his quarters at Philadelphia and 
 set out on his march for New York by the way of New 
 Brunswick and Amboy, with eleven thousand men. 
 Washington immediately put his now well-stockinged 
 and jubilant army in motion, and came up with Clin- 
 ton near the village of Freehold, in Monmouth county. 
 New Jersey, and immediately engaged with him in 
 combat. The battle was long and bloody, and ended 
 so successfully for the Americans that Clinton was com- 
 pelled to alter his line of march and proceed to New 
 York by making a detour to the right by way of Sandy 
 Hook. It is thought that had General Nathanael Greene 
 occupied the dubious General Lee's position on this oc- 
 casion as second in command, the whole British army 
 under Clinton would have been compelled to surren- 
 der and thus brought the Revolution to a close. As it 
 was, that event had to be deferred to York town ; but 
 Washington's partial success on the occasion inspired 
 his army with new hope and courage that never left 
 them until the final victory at Yorktown was accom- 
 plished. The encounter took place on a Sunday, the 
 thermometer standing at over one hundred in the shade. 
 Scores of men on both sides perished in the field in 
 consequence of the excessive heat of the day. 
 
 Right in the height of battle the Rev. Dr. Cussum 
 held forth, as usual, in the Presbyterian Church, in 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Freehold, and such, it was said, was the all-fired fervor 
 with which he damned the enemies of his country, 
 that, added to the external heat of the sun, the panes 
 of a glass window immediately in front of his pulpit 
 actually melted out of the sash, and fell inwards 
 toward the Rev. Doctor, the point where the heat was 
 the greatest. 
 
 Thus the old women's stockings, made mostly of 
 the soft, silky wool of Atlantis, healed the feet of the 
 soldiers and enabled them to march against and defeat 
 the enemy, at the culminating crisis of the war, and 
 thus those nether garments became the remote cause 
 of the successful termination of our own Revolution, 
 just as I intend to show, if all I have heard be true, 
 before I close these papers, that Phillis, my grand- 
 father's inestimable cook, was the remote cause of the 
 French Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI and 
 Marie Antoinette. But then, as I have, as I think, 
 before said, there is a time for all things, and great 
 bodies move slowly, &c., &:c. 
 
 I have elsewhere spoken incidentally of the Nar- 
 ragansett huckleberry, which is an entirely different 
 thing when grown in the delicious Gulf Stream atmos- 
 phere of southern Rhode Island than anywhere else in 
 either the western or eastern hemisphere. The largest 
 and best flavored huckleberries are usually to be found 
 on the edges of woodlands where the bushes are par- 
 tially shaded by the sparse branches of old trees. In such 
 localities the bush grows much taller and the berries 
 much bigger than on bleak, unprotected hills. Indeed, 
 in some instances the delicious flavored woodland ber- 
 ries attain to a size almost marvelous, though perhaps 
 
 C 102 ] 
 
EIGHTH BAKING 
 
 not quite so big as was once reported to one of the 
 British periodicals, the London Quarterly^ by an Eng- 
 lish tourist, who happening some years ago to be pass- 
 ing by an old huckster woman in Newport who was 
 seated by a pile of uncommonly large pumpkins she 
 had to sell, remarked to her, "Old woman, we have 
 bigger happles than them in Hengland . " " Happies , ' ' 
 she rejoined, "do you call them happles? Why, them 
 ain't happles, them's ' uckleberries ! " The Henglish 
 correspondent received the witty remark of the sar- 
 castic old woman for gospel, and so entered it on his 
 memorandum book and reported to his principals 
 that huckleberries grew in the warm, salubrious Gulf 
 Stream atmosphere of Rhode Island, the Eden of Amer- 
 ica, as big as bushel baskets. 
 
 When I was in my teens, I used to hear old people say 
 that Avhen they were young, before powder and shot had 
 become so plenty and cheap, birds of all kinds were so 
 numerous in New England that worms, caterpillars, 
 and other hurtful slugs and insects were kept within 
 such due bounds that the most delicious pears, plums, 
 and peaches were as plenty in Rhode Island as pota- 
 toes, and nowhere else so good! This I can readily 
 believe to have been the fact, especially as it relates to 
 peaches, which are infinitely finer flavored if produced 
 in northern climates, and especially in the Gulf Stream 
 atmosphere of Ancient Atlantis, than any grown further 
 south, which, as a general rule, have but little other 
 flavor than that of a vapid, sugary sweetness. Vau- 
 cluse lies next south of the Bowler farm, now owned 
 by Constant Chase and his sons Isaac and Herbert, 
 where the greenings grew from which the Eden cham- 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 pagne I have remarked upon in a former paper, was 
 made. Consequently my farm is situated in the very 
 niche in southern Rhode Island, the Ancient Atlantis 
 in the western hemisphere, that corresponds with the 
 former location of the Garden of Eden between the 
 rivers Euphrates and Tigris in ancient Assyria in the 
 eastern hemisphere, and consequently is better adapted 
 for the production of ambrosia and all the fruits of the 
 earth used as food by the luxurious gods of the olden 
 time, than any other locality in America. I will simply 
 relate the following incident to illustrate the superiority 
 of the Bowler and Vaucluse Chausen greenings over 
 all others on the island or elsewhere outside the walls 
 of the old Assyrian garden. One or two summers ago I 
 called to see Mr. L , of Boston, who has a fine sum- 
 mer residence in south Newport. As e^'erybody knows, 
 
 Mr. L is a gentleman of the old school who is both 
 
 to the manor and the manner born, and has a culti- 
 vated, refined, and discriminating taste in all that re- 
 lates to the fine arts, including the quality of the good 
 fruits of the earth. It was about the middle of Novem- 
 ber after my apples had been mostly gathered, and it so 
 chanced that I had a Chausen greening in my pocket 
 that I had that morning picked up just after it had 
 fallen from the tree. If it be asked how I knew that, 
 I answer that it must have just fallen, as I had at the 
 time a knowing horse loose in the orchard, who always 
 got up early in the morning and made a thorough search 
 under every Chausen tree for stray greenings, nor did 
 he ever miss finding any that had dropped during the 
 night. Our conversation turned on the superiority of 
 the fruits of Rhode Island above all others. I gave 
 [ 104 ] 
 
EIGHTH BAKING 
 
 Mr. L my Eden greening and asked him to taste 
 
 it before breakfast the next morning, the best time to 
 eat fruit the Serpent revealed to Eve. The apple was 
 small in size and had a nurl on it, as all apples of the 
 highest flavor always have for the reason that the nurl 
 checks its growth, and concentrates all the flavor nature 
 had provided for a large apple into a smaller space. I 
 
 felt at the time that Mr. L had some misgivings 
 
 about the virtues of my apple, though his habitual 
 politeness prevented him from indicating it. We lived 
 about seven miles apart, and a day or two after my 
 
 visit as I was driving into Newport, I met Mr. L 
 
 in company with a friend, on the road, driving out 
 to Vaucluse. He apologized for bringing a stranger 
 with him, but said he was in hopes I might be able to 
 bestow upon his friend one more of those incompara- 
 ble Chausen greenings I had favored him with, which 
 he considered to be about two thousand times the rich- 
 est and highest flavored apple he had ever tasted ! 
 
 Some years ago I used to take a great deal of pains 
 in cultivating at Vaucluse peach trees. Every spring 
 I had from two to six forkfuls of green cow manure 
 placed directly round the body of the tree, besides a 
 quantity of coal ashes. This seemed to keep away the 
 destructive worms and insects that prey upon the roots 
 and the tree, and I found no difiiculty in raising great 
 quantities, sometimes as many as one hundred and 
 fifty bushels of the finest peaches. Dr. Mercer, of New 
 Orleans, a gentleman of high culture and taste, once 
 picked from a tree on my grounds in my presence 
 a peach which he said on the spot was the best and 
 highest flavored he had ever eaten. 
 C 105 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 I may here remark that inclosed with my orchard 
 are grounds, planted with trees, of seventeen acres, 
 in which I haAC never allowed any shooting for forty 
 and more years. The consequence of this has been that 
 great numbers of birds harbor within them, and no 
 doubt protect my fruit from worms and insects, besides 
 rendering the grounds vocal with variegated music 
 superior to any that man or woman can perform or 
 bestow. Whilst almost every orchard on the island is 
 more or less injured annually by canker-worms, I have 
 never known one to trespass on mine. 
 
 When the public mind in Rhode Island becomes 
 sufficiently expanded and enlightened to introduce into 
 our public schools the system of moral culture recently 
 recommended in Congress by Senator Burnside, and 
 children are taught to protect and foster the lower ani- 
 mals instead of abusing, persecuting, and murdering 
 them, we may expect to see the feathered tribes that 
 are so essential to the health and productiveness of our 
 fruit trees and the vegetable kingdom generally, again 
 increase to a point of usefulness that will renew the old- 
 time fecundity of our orchards, fields, and gardens, 
 including the pear, peach, and plum, such as was the 
 case a century ago, but not probably before then. While 
 there is a vast difference of flavor in favor of the New 
 England peach compared with that of the Middle and 
 Southern States, there is a still greater difference, if 
 possible, in the melons of the different sections. So 
 marked is this, that when I used to raise the finest fla- 
 vored melons by the bushel, my children became so fas- 
 tidious in their tastes, that they slighted everything of 
 the kind that was brought from the South and West. 
 
 C 106 ] 
 
EIGHTH BAKING 
 
 Not long since, in a conversation with my departed 
 daughter Anna, who when in earth life was passion- 
 ately fond of Vaucluse melons and peaches, and a born 
 melon thief before she was five years old, she recurred 
 to these facts and answered me that even in spirit life, 
 where she has more delicious fruit of all kinds than 
 I can ever have any conception of until I come to the 
 beautiful home that awaits me beyond the veil, yet she 
 does at times when she returns to earth and controls 
 the organization of a spirit medium , and thereby again 
 assumes, in a degree, her earthly nature and tastes, 
 feel that she would again like to enjoy a feast as in 
 olden times, of the citron and nutmeg melons such as 
 used to grow in the garden behind the barn, and also 
 the little white rare-ripe peaches that grew near the 
 old cat-head apple tree in the orchard. 
 
 I thought of devoting the next paper to the matter 
 of my grandfather's transcendent colored cook, Phillis ; 
 and show how she became the ' ' remote cause of the 
 French Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI and 
 Marie Antoinette ; ' ' but the incidental mention of that 
 unlucky cat-head apple tree has brought to my remem- 
 brance another cat story that I must relate before pro- 
 ceeding to discuss or elucidate that important histori- 
 cal fact, or that is to be, when it becomes fully known 
 in all its bearings and connections to the world. 
 
 C 107 ] 
 
Ninth Baking 
 
 BEFORE narrating the cat story promised in my 
 last paper, I will say I forgot to mention with due 
 emphasis , that Phillis , my grandfather ' s never-enough- 
 to-be-lauded colored cook, who, as I think I have some- 
 where informed the readers of the Journal before, was 
 the remote cause of the French Revolution, and the 
 death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, was just 
 as skillful in preparing and cooking in perfection, dishes 
 in which flour, rice, and all other eatables whatsoever 
 entered as component parts, as she was in making 
 and baking jonny-cake ! Never while I live, whether 
 in this world or in the next, shall I forget, I feel sure. 
 Aunty Phillis' apple dumplings, made with a thin 
 crust, and a cat-head apple quartered and cored, in 
 each of them, as big as a good sized pumpkin. For 
 Phillis used to say there was "nothing on airth she 
 so 'spised as an apple dumpling with a crust as thick 
 and hard as a jonny-cake board, with no cat-head in 
 it." And then her rice puddings, which were always 
 made in a six-quart pan, filled chock full, for Phillis 
 used frequently to remark that if there was "anything 
 on airth she 'spised more than another, it was a half- 
 filled pan of rice pudding." 
 
 As I think I may have hinted before, when I was a 
 pickaninny, the Guinea word for a small boy, I used 
 to sleep in a big room near upon twenty feet square, 
 and I remember just as wtW now as I remember any- 
 thing, how, when on waking in the morning, with 
 an appetite as keen as the frosty air, I used to lie with 
 
 c 108 i 
 
NINTH BAKING 
 
 my eyes fixed on the ceiling just at the south-east 
 corner of the chamber, and fancy to myself a great 
 platter of apple dumplings, almost swimming in sugar 
 sauce, standing there on a shelf, all of which I de- 
 voured, each one at one mouthful ! Then I would place 
 next west of the empty platter one of Phillis' huge rice 
 puddings made to overflowing in a six-quart milk pan, 
 which, too, I would swallow on top of the dumplings 
 at one gulp, and so I would follow, in my imagination, 
 another and another platter of apple dumplings, all 
 made of big cat-head apples, and another and another 
 rice pudding, chock full to the brim of the pan, until 
 the south-west corner of the room was reached, devour- 
 ing each and all in turn, without it satisfying my hun- 
 ger in the least. So I would turn the south-west corner 
 and arrange the delicious dishes alternately on the 
 shelf until the north-west corner of the room was 
 reached, and so on again to the north-east corner, and 
 down to the south-east corner, the place of beginning, 
 I swallowing greedily every apple dumpling and rice 
 pudding in turn, as fast as I came to them, and then 
 cried because there was no more room, not in my 
 stomach, but on the all-around shelf for any more. 
 Ah, those were glorious days when boys and gals were 
 boys and gals, fit to make men and M^omen of, and not 
 as — but as comparisons are said to be odious, so I 
 will not say what I was going to remark. 
 
 Then there were Phillis' muffins ! It makes me fetch 
 a long sigh to think of them even at this late day, more 
 than seventy years, the fabled age of man, nothing 
 being said of that of woman, after I have tasted them ! 
 But, then, such a taste ! A taste that no mortal with a 
 
 c 109 :i 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 sign of a palate in his mouth if once tasted can ever 
 forget! Why, I just remember when a genial, bald- 
 headed New York doctor whose Christian and sur- 
 name, if I remember, began with an F and an S, or 
 with an S and an F, I can't say which, stopped over 
 night at my grandfather's on his way to Newport. We 
 chanced to have muffins for breakfast, and Phillis added 
 a round dozen to the usual batch for fifteen members of 
 our family, great-room and kitchen folks, all told. But 
 such a bolting of muffins no mortal, I am sure, ever be- 
 held before ! One, two, three, four dozen were swal- 
 lowed in quick succession by my grandfather's genial 
 young friend, and he had got far into the fifth dozen 
 when Margaret, the colored waitress, whispered to 
 my grandmother that the mixing was clean gone ! Up 
 to this time the doctor had been the jolliest and most 
 loquacious good fellow that ever sat down to a Narra- 
 gansett breakfast table. But no sooner were the muffins 
 all sped, than a most extraordinary change came over 
 his spirit, and not a word could be got out of him but 
 simply, "Muffins." Said my grandfather, "Doctor, 
 let me recommend these hot Maryland biscuits! Our 
 cook prides herself especially on making the best Ma- 
 ryland biscuits to be found in America. ' ' ' ' Muffins ! ' * 
 quoth the doctor, as he stared inquiringly into my 
 grandfather's face. "Let me help you, doctor," said 
 my grandmother beseechingly, ' ' to some of this cream 
 toast ; it looks very nice ! " " Muffins ! ' ' retorted the 
 doctor, * ' Muffins ! " It was no go ! Words were wasted 
 on the doctor. Phillis' enrapturing muffins had pene- 
 trated and dislocated his brain, and until the doctor's 
 premature death which occurred some months after- 
 
 • Clio] 
 
NINTH BAKING 
 
 ward, he was never heard to pronounce any other 
 word than muffins. After his demise, the Manhattan 
 Allopathic College of Physicians made a careful post- 
 mortem examination of all the organs of the defunct, 
 and decided unanimously that the death of their illus- 
 trious professional brother was caused by the mortal 
 disease set down in Galen's infallible books as mujffina 
 dislocano braineo, which occurs they said but very sel- 
 dom, and then only in the Narragansett country in 
 Rhode Island, where colored cooks and witchery are 
 closely allied and most abound. 
 
 Touching that Cat Story No. 2, I will here remark 
 that it was after this wise, barring the following ne- 
 cessary preface. In the olden time M^hen Providence, 
 Bristol, and Grinnage were nowhere, Newport, Tower 
 Hill, and Little Rest^ were the chief compact towns 
 in Rhode Island. After the Revolution, Little Rest be- 
 came one of the capitals^ of the state, where the county 
 courts, removed from Tower Hill, sat, and the Gen- 
 eral Assembly held an annual session. The origin of 
 its unique name is uncertain. Some hold that it origi- 
 nated from the multitude of lawyers that used to reside 
 and assemble there, who made it their chief business 
 to involve everybody they came in contact with in quar- 
 rels and law-suits, that they might profit thereby, thus 
 giving their clients Little Rest. Others say that the 
 name was not conferred on the village until after the 
 General Assembly held its annual session, at which 
 time the public accommodations were so limited, that 
 the members of both houses were obliged to sleep four 
 in a bed, heads and points, to make better stowage. 
 Of course there could be but little rest under such cir- 
 
 C "1 -} 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 cumstances, and hence the name Little Rest. From all 
 I can learn, I think, however, the name was of earlier 
 date than the creation of the General Assembly of the 
 State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, 
 and grew out of the fact that in the olden time. Little 
 Rest was the home and headquarters of a class of 
 men who Avere peculiarly addicted to inflicting practi- 
 cal jokes not only on one another, but upon all tempo- 
 rary visitors to the village, and thereby giving their 
 victims but little rest. I could fill many volumes with 
 scores of Little Rest anecdotes of this kind that rival 
 in ' ' bodily wit, ' ' as lawyer Joe Aplin would designate 
 it, and humor, anything to be found in Cervantes, 
 Smollett, Fielding, or Scott, had I their genius to relate 
 them with fitting terms and accompaniments. Con- 
 spicuous among these practical jokers since my mem- 
 ory were ElishaR. Gardner, Deputy Sheriff; Abel Cot- 
 trell, Sergeant in the Courts; Matthew Waite, who 
 for very many years was clerk of the Supreme Court ; 
 one Cook, a journeyman hatter in the employ of old 
 Cyrus French, and several others of like kith and dis- 
 position. I will just here remark in parenthesis, that 
 I see by a supplement of the Bulletin of November 7, 
 1874, kindly loaned me at my request by the Hon. 
 E. R. Potter, that among many scores of interesting 
 reminiscences connected with Little Rest, now Kings- 
 ton, contributed by Mr. J. P. Helme to the Journal, in 
 a valuable four-column article, is a notice of the death 
 of Abel Cottrell, who I know was a most amiable and 
 conscientious man, respected and beloved by all who 
 knew him well. One morning Abel opened the court 
 as usual, with the ringing summons to all comers — 
 
 C 112 ] 
 
NINTH BAKING 
 
 "Hear ye ! hear ye! hear ye! all persons having busi- 
 ness before the Supreme Court now being held for 
 and within the county of Washington, draw near and 
 they shall be heard. God save the State of Rhode Island 
 and Providence Plantations." This was the Court 
 Crier's last proclamation, for immediately on its con- 
 clusion Abel sat down in his customary arm-chair, 
 dropped his chin on his breast, and immediately 
 expired without sigh or groan. As I should not have 
 space to finish my Cat Story No. 2 in this paper, I will 
 e'en defer it to another, and give the outlines of a few 
 of the pranks of the Little Rest Club of Good Fellows, 
 hence the name since adopted, as a sample of scores of 
 others I have heard related or been cognizant of. 
 
 There used to live in the north-west corner of the 
 town of Exeter, in Washington county, one Willard, 
 who was held by the Narragansetters to be the loud- 
 est laugher in the state, if not in New England. It so 
 happened that some Tivertoners from Newport county 
 attended the court on some occasion, who contended 
 with the Little Resters that one Durfee, of their town, 
 and not Willard, was the champion laugher of Rhode 
 Island. It was finally agreed by the rival contestants 
 that at the next term of court, Willard and Durfee 
 should be induced to meet unbeknown to each other, 
 under some convenient pretext, at the Tom Potter ^ red 
 house, then a tavern, that still stands on the south-west 
 corner of the cross-roads, some fifty or more rods from 
 the court-house. Accordingly, at the next term of court, 
 the two disciples of Democritus were on the spot, each 
 attended by his special friends and backers, who under- 
 stood exactly how to draw their respective j&ro^e^^^ out. 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 After the glass had circulated freely, a story was 
 told by a friend of Willard's to suit the occasion, that 
 caused an explosion from his lungs that fairly shook 
 the house. When Willard had subsided, a Tiverton 
 man told another appropriate story that caused Durfee 
 to explode in a key that fully equaled Willard's out- 
 burst. Judge Wilcox was then holding a term of the 
 Common Pleas, and when he heard the two loud re- 
 ports from Willard and Durfee, thinking it must be 
 the rumbling of distant thunder, he beckoned Sheriff 
 Sam Allen to his side, and whispered in his ear to go 
 out and see from whence the thunder came from ap- 
 parently a clear sky. Allen quickly returned and told 
 the judge that there was not the least speck of a cloud 
 to be seen in any part of the heavens. Just at that mo- 
 ment the object was revealed to Willard and Durfee 
 that was had in view in bringing them together — 
 on which announcement such a concurrent burst of . 
 laughter broke from both of them in unison, that the 
 court-house shook and Judge Wilcox, panic-stricken, 
 supposing an earthquake to be on hand, informally 
 adjourned the court and darted out of the house, fearing 
 it was about to fall on his head. 
 
 I remember when thereused to live, some forty or fifty 
 years ago, in a tenement belonging to the late Hon. 
 E. R. Potter, that stood on the west side of the road 
 leading south a short distance from the aforementioned 
 Tom Potter house, an old Irishman by the name of 
 Benjamin Storer, a day laborer. Storer kept a pig, of 
 course, and the finest, in his own estimation, of any 
 on Little Rest Hill. So proud was Storer of the beauty 
 of his pig that wherever he went he made it the chief 
 
 [ 114 ] 
 
NINTH BAKING 
 
 subject of conversation, so that Storer and his pig be- 
 came a by-saying in the village. Storer vrorked a great 
 deal for his landlord, in his garden and otherwise, and 
 often interceded vrith him to bring some of his friends 
 to his house, that they might admire his pig. So one 
 day, whilst the General Assembly was sitting at Little 
 Rest, Mr. Potter announced to Storer that Governor 
 Fenner and some half a dozen or more of the most dis- 
 tinguished members were to dine with him on the next 
 day, and that he would invite them after dinner to go 
 over and look at his pig. Storer, of course, was highly 
 gratified at this announcement, and so soon as the sun 
 set, the then limit of a day's work, he went through 
 the village, telling everybody he met of the honor that 
 was to be bestowed on his pig by the Governor and his 
 friends. Among others, Storer imparted a knowledge 
 of his good luck to Squire Matthew Waite and Deputy 
 SheriiF E. R. Gardner. When the morrow arrived, the 
 services of both Storer and his wife Hannah were re- 
 quired at Mr. Potter's, so that the pig was left alone. 
 After dinner Mr. Potter called Storer from the garden, 
 and told him the Governor and his friends had con- 
 cluded to go over and look at his pig. So the delighted 
 old man started offa few minutes before his distinguished 
 visitors to make all things ready. Soon after, Mr. Potter 
 accompanied by Governor Fenner and his other guests 
 arrived on Storer's premises, where a most extraordi- 
 nary sight met their vision. There they beheld the usu- 
 ally courteous, staid, and self-poised old man, storming 
 with rage as he tore the hat from his head and stamped 
 it into the ground. "What," said Mr. Potter, "is the 
 matter, Storer; are you crazv?" To this query no in- 
 
 C "5 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 telligible answer could be got from Storer, who tried to 
 reply, but could only give utterance to a jumble of un- 
 intelligible words, in which "Gardner," "Waite," 
 * ' Lunt, " " shave, ' 'and ' ' pig ' ' were the chief burthen . 
 On looking into the pen, the mystery was quickly 
 explained. There stood Storer 's beautiful pig, shaved 
 from his snout to the tip of his tail as clean as the palm 
 of a baby's hand. Not a hair nor the ninth part of a 
 hair, nor the stump of a hair, was left upon the ani- 
 mal's body, head, ears, limbs, or tail. The provocative 
 to laughter was irresistible, and such a roar went forth 
 from all the company present, that soon every man, 
 woman, and child within a mile, including the mem- 
 bers of both houses of the Assembly, rushed to the 
 spot to find out what was the matter with Storer and 
 his pig. 
 
 I suppose some may think that it was not possible 
 anybody should laugh loud enough to be heard a mile 
 oif. Such ignorant persons should remember that the 
 men of that day, especially in Rhode Island, were not 
 such weak-lunged creatures as those of the present de- 
 generate times. Mr. Potter was a man full six feet high, 
 and weighed more than two hundred and fifty pounds, 
 whilst old Fenner, though not quite so tall as Potter, 
 was more than twice as big round, and of course held 
 tAvice as much wind, whilst they were both gifted with 
 stentorian lungs. Some faint idea of Potter's power of 
 blowing, and consequently of loud laughing, may be 
 guessed at by the fact that one day whilst a little snip- 
 per-snapper who sat about ten feet back of him, in the 
 General Assembly, then in session at Little Rest, was 
 speaking, he made some saucv remarks touching the 
 C 116 ] 
 
NINTH BAKING 
 
 South County, when Potter, without leaving his seat, 
 merely turned his head round, and at one puit blew the 
 little fellow clean out of an open window, although the 
 impertinent chap could not have weighed much less 
 than seventy-five pounds avoirdupois. It was a two- 
 story window, and the poor fellow might have cracked 
 his skull were it not that in his fall he lighted directly 
 on top of old Prince Robinson's gingerbread and apple 
 stand. Prince said that when he first came down he 
 thought it was the Demerara monkey that had just ar- 
 rived on the hill in the show, but on observing his pate, 
 he said he saw at once he had not enough brains for 
 a monkey, and was only a Providence-county lawyer. 
 In the sequel it came out that when Storer, the even- 
 ing before, revealed to Squire Waite and Sheriff Gard- 
 ner the fact that the chief dignitaries of the state were 
 to make his pig a complimentary visit the next day, 
 they thought it a good time to have a little sport at the 
 old man's expense. As if to favor Waite and Gardner 
 in their wicked design, there lived at the time a little 
 west of the Corners, on the north side of the main street 
 of the village, old William Lunt, who held two respon- 
 sible offices during the Revolutionary War, being a 
 major in the army and General Washington's barber, 
 both at the same time. After the war, the major settled 
 in Little Rest and made a very comfortable living by his 
 trade, as every man who came to the village was willing 
 to pay for at least one shave by Washington's barber, 
 especially when it was done with the identical razor that 
 Major Lunt took especial care to inform his customer 
 had smoothed the face of theFather of his Country hun- 
 dreds of times. It so chanced that the major, though an 
 
 C 117 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 honorable and honest man — my brother Joseph erected 
 a monument over his remains — was somewhat jealous 
 of his neighbor Storer's pig, because he took great pride 
 in one he himself possessed, regarding which Storer had 
 been heard to make invidious comparisons when con- 
 trasting it with his own beautiful animal. The conse- 
 quence was that when Waite and Gardner went over 
 to the shop and tempted Washington's old barber with 
 a ninepence, the price of four shaves, to go with them 
 and denude Storer's pig, he readily consented. So the 
 three conspirators went over to Storer's house whilst 
 he and his wife Hannah were doing a day's work at 
 Mr. Potter's, and after dosing his pig with a delicious 
 mixture of milk and molasses, sweetened with a pint of 
 new rum, Waite and Gardner seized the unconscious 
 animal and held him handy, whilst Lunt, with his 
 George Washington razor, shaved him from the tip 
 of his snout to the end of his tail, as clean and smooth, 
 as before said, as the palm of a baby's hand. 
 
 Speaking about getting a pig drunk so as to keep 
 him still whilst being shaved, makes me think of old 
 Deacon Brown, who used to live on the other side of 
 Chipuxet river, about a mile and a half south-west from 
 Litde Rest, making his hogs drunk to keep them still 
 while being whipped. Coming home from meeting, one 
 Sunday, he found his hogs had broken out of their 
 pen into his corn-field, where they had made sad havoc. 
 The deacon was dreadful mad, and getting his big ox 
 lash he chased the devils round and round, without 
 being able to get them out, or even to hit them one 
 fair lick. So the deacon, nursing his wrath, waited until 
 night when the hogs returned to their bed to sleep. He 
 
 C "8 ;] 
 
NINTH BAKING 
 
 then shut them fast in the pen, and the next morning 
 mixed two quarts of New England rum with some 
 sweetened milk, and made them all drunk, when he 
 whipped them to his heart's content. 
 
 Speaking of Deacon Brown brings to my mind Tim- 
 othy Crumb's courtship of his daughter, Sally Brown. 
 
 Tim had hired by the month to Squire Champ- 
 lin, who lived on a farm a little north-west of where 
 the Kingston depot is now situated. Tim had taken a 
 shine to Sal, and after three or four sittings up with her, 
 had engaged to wait on her to meetirig the next Sun- 
 day. So Tim got up early in the morning, and after 
 getting through his chores and breakfast, he thought 
 before dressing up to wait on Sal, he would go to the 
 river and wash off. Accordingly he went down and 
 undressed, hanging his red shirt, which was a little 
 sweaty, in a swamp blueberry bush to dry while he 
 was in the water. It so happened that Deacon Brown's 
 old bull Wrinkle was lying on a little knoll near by, 
 unnoticed by Tim. The sight of Tim's red shirt was 
 not at all pleasing to old Wrinkle, who now got up and 
 began to paw the ground and bellow. This did not, 
 however, move Tim, as he had heard Wrinkle making 
 pretenses of the kind several times before. Bime'by, 
 however, old Wrinkle made for the red shirt, and be- 
 fore Tim could interfere, the enraged beast tossed it 
 in the air and then stamped it into the ground, and 
 when Tim started to the rescue of his under garment, 
 the old sarpent, not apparently recognizing him with 
 his clothes off, gave chase to the naked biped, follow- 
 ing Tim on the run, bellowing and shaking his horns 
 as he went, right into the river. Things began to look 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 rather squally, and just as the old varmint seemed get- 
 ting ready to make a dive with both horns set for ac- 
 tion, Tim seized the branches of a swamp white oak 
 that hung over the water, and swung himself on a big 
 limb out of reach of old Wrinkle, who now placed him- 
 self just beneath where Tim sat, roaring at the top of 
 his voice and making sundry other threatening dem- 
 onstrations. Tim, however, felt safe where he was, so 
 far as Wrinkle was concerned, although he had some 
 misgivings whether or not Sal Brown might not, in con- 
 sequence of his enforced neglect to keep his engage- 
 ment, permit that other fellow, Jim Arlington, w^ho, 
 too, was after her, to wait on her to hear Elder Northup 
 preach. All at once, Tim heard a buzzing o^er his 
 head, and looking up, saw, to his horror, not more 
 than two yards above his head, a hornets' nest, nigh 
 upon as big as a bushel basket, covered all over with 
 the worst kind of black hornets, who, he could readily 
 see, were getting ready to attack him. Tim took in the 
 situation at once, and saw plainly that there was but 
 one chance for him, desperate as it was. So seizing, 
 with both hands, the limb on which he sat, he low- 
 ered himself quickly down a-straddle of old Wrinkle's 
 neck, seizing a horn in each hand at the same moment, 
 the better to enable him to retain his uneasy position. 
 Just as he lighted on the neck of old Wrinkle, about 
 two quarts of hornets dropped on Tim's bare neck and 
 shoulders, about half a pint of w^hich slopped over and 
 fell straight into old Wrinkle's left ear. This did not 
 help matters at all, but made the bull madder than 
 ever, who now started off on the run for the deacon's 
 house, plunging and roaring as he went. Sally Brown 
 [ 120 ] 
 
NINTH BAKING 
 
 had dressed herself to go to meeting, and was waiting 
 in the great-room for Tim, when hearing old Wrinkle 
 making such a catouse, she stepped to the front door 
 to see what was the matter. Just as Sally with her arms 
 akimbo had placed herself in the open door- way. Wrin- 
 kle and Tim reached a high chestnut rail fence that 
 was within about two rods of where she stood. Sal 
 recognized Wrinkle at first sight, but was somewhat 
 doubtful of the identity of Tim, as she exclaimed: ' ' For 
 the Lord's sake, is that you, Tim, or the dev — " She 
 meant to say devil, and would have done so had she 
 been allowed time, but before Sal got the last syllable 
 out, old Wrinkle made a desperate dive through the 
 fence, making kindling splinters of the big chestnut 
 rails, and ejecting Tim with such velocity from his 
 neck and horns, that, after making three complete som- 
 ersaults in the heavens, the nether parts of his body 
 struck Sally Brown about midships, a big toe just graz- 
 ing each side of her diaphragm as they passed, more 
 like a forked thunder-bolt or streak of lightning, than 
 anything with human legs, and knocked her clean 
 through the kitchen door, where she fell flat with her 
 face towards the ceiling. As for Tim, he gathered him- 
 self up without saying a word, and rushed out of the 
 back door into the big swamp near by, and pursuing 
 a circuitous route in the bushes, recovered his red shirt 
 and other clothes, and then made a bee-line west. A 
 week afterwards, Jim Knowles, who had been out West 
 to reconnoitre, reported that on his return from the Gen- 
 esee country, in crossing the Connecticut river below 
 Hartford, he passed Tim paddling a white pine log 
 with a piece of bark, in an opposite direction, which 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 was the last ever heard of Timothy Crumb in Narra- 
 gansett. 
 
 Should nothing prevent, I hope to be able to tell 
 Cat Story No. 2 in my next paper, and then proceed to 
 show how it came to pass that Phillis, my grandfather's 
 inimitable colored cook, came to be the remote cause of 
 the French Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI 
 and Marie Antoinette. 
 
 [ 122 ] 
 
Tenth Baking 
 
 SPEAKING of pigs, I may say that the pig has 
 always been a very interesting quadruped to me. 
 I presume my predilection grew partly out of the fact 
 that one of the first lasting impressions made on my 
 mind in infancy was the sight of a litter of young red 
 and white pigs that old black Peggy brought into the 
 kitchen one chilly morning, in her apron, to warm by 
 the fire. I don't think I have ever since seen any kind 
 of young tins that looked so pretty to me as these little 
 striped darlings did. Then again, the first long narra- 
 tive I remember to have heard in all my born days is 
 that of the old woman and her "wee wee pig." Be- 
 fore my grandmother^ told me that delightful story, 
 I thought there were but two real pretty compositions 
 in the English language. One of these was: 
 
 "Rock o'by baby on the tree top. 
 When the wind blows the cradle does rock, 
 When the wind lulls the cradle does fall, 
 Down comes baby, cradle and all! " *~' 
 
 The other charming ditty ran thus: 
 
 " Ride a jack-horse to Banbury Cross 
 To buy little baby a plum ; 
 When we got there the trees would n't bear. 
 And so we came jogging home." 
 
 I may here remark in parenthesis, that home used to 
 be pronounced "hum," so as to make it rhyme with 
 "plum." For one, I am free to say that I don't think 
 all the poetry ever made by Homer, Byron, or Long- 
 fellow has conveyed so much unalloyed delight to the 
 C 123 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 human senses, or received such spontaneous and un- 
 qualified praise from admiring millions as have those 
 two little poems. To every unsophisticated infantile 
 mind of the olden time, both of the ditties were indeed 
 "like apples of gold set in pictures of silver." But 
 nevertheless, I thought when I first heard the story 
 of the wee wee old w oman and her w ee wee pig, that it 
 transcended in beauty either the "Rock o'by baby," 
 or "Ride a jack-horse," even when they were sung 
 with the exhilarating accompaniments of being tossed 
 in the arms in the first instance or ridden on the foot in 
 the last. 
 
 As wee wee pig involves a striking moral cognate 
 to the main subject of these papers, inasmuch as it 
 proves the truth of the poet's words, and shows be- 
 yond a question what great effects sometimes from 
 little causes rise, just as I expect before concluding 
 these rambling discussions to show how my grand- 
 father's incomparable colored cook, Phillis, was the 
 remote cause of the French Revolution, and the death 
 of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, simply from the 
 fact of her — but I forgot, I was going merely to say 
 at present, that for the reasons named, I am more than 
 half a mind to relate the wee wee pig, just as it used 
 to be told in the olden time by every grandmother in 
 Rhode Island to babies who then had a childhood, and 
 always came into the world with their eyes shut, and 
 not as now with them both wide open and disposed to 
 examine and criticise everything they see, or hear told. 
 So I will narrate the charming story just as it used to 
 be told to me by my grandmother, whose especial fa- 
 vorite and pet I was in my childhood, and still remain 
 [ 124 ] 
 
TENTH BAKING 
 
 to be, as I most assuredly believe and know, notwith- 
 standing the removal to her beautiful new home in the 
 spirit world more than seventy years ago ! So here goes. 
 There was, once on a time, a wee wee old woman who 
 lived in a wee wee house near Cockermouth in old Eng- 
 land . One day when the wee wee old woman was sweep- 
 ing her wee wee house with a wee wee broom, she found 
 a wee wee sixpence. So she took her wee wee sixpence 
 and went to market and bought a wee wee pig, and 
 started her wee wee pig on the road to her wee wee 
 home. The wee wee pig went along very well till they 
 came to a bridge, which the wee wee old woman could 
 not persuade, coax, or force her wee wee pig to cross. 
 So the wee wee old woman left her wee wee pig, and 
 went back until she came to a stick. Said the wee wee 
 old woman, ' ' Oh, stick, do beat wee wee pig ; wee wee 
 pig won't go over bridge, and I shan't git home to- 
 night ! " But the stick wouldn't beat wee wee pig ! So 
 the wee wee old woman went along until she came to 
 a fire. Said the wee wee old woman, ' ' Oh, fire, do burn 
 stick ; stick won't beat wee wee pig, wee wee pig won't 
 go over bridge, and I shan't git home to-night ! " But 
 the fire wouldn't burn the stick ! So the wee wee old 
 woman M^ent along till she came to some water. Said 
 the wee wee old woman, "Oh, water, do quench fire ; 
 fire won't burn stick, stick won't beat wee wee pig, 
 wee wee pig won't go over bridge, and I shan't git 
 home to-night ! " But the water wouldn't quench the 
 fire ! So the wee wee old woman went along till she 
 came to an ox. Said the wee wee old woman, "Oh, 
 ox, do drink water; water won't quench fire, fire won't 
 burn stick, stick won't beat wee wee pig, wee wee pig 
 C 125 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 won't go over bridge, and I shan't git home to-night ! " 
 But the ox would n't drink the water ! So the wee wee 
 old woman went along till she came to a butcher. Said 
 the wee wee old woman, " Oh, butcher, do kill ox ; ox 
 won't drink water, water won't quench fire, fire won't 
 burn stick, stick won't beat wee wee pig, wee wee pig 
 won't go over bridge, and I shan't git home to-night ! " 
 But the butcher would n't kill the ox ! So the wee wee old 
 woman went along till she came to a rope. Said the wee 
 wee old woman, "Oh, rope, do hang butcher ; butcher 
 won't kill ox, ox won't drink water, water won't quench 
 fire, fire won't burn stick, stick won't beat wee wee 
 pig, wee wee pig won't go over bridge, and I shan't git 
 home to-night ! ' ' But the rope would n't hang butcher ! 
 So the wee wee old woman went along till she came to 
 a rat. Said the wee wee old w^oman, ' ' Oh, rat, do gnaw 
 rope ; rope won't hang butcher, butcher won't kill ox, 
 ox won't drink water, water won't quench fire, fire 
 won't burn stick, stick won't beat wee wee pig, wee 
 wee pig won't go over bridge, and I shan't git home 
 to-night ! ' ' But the rat would n't gnaw the rope ! So the 
 wee wee old woman went along till she came to a cat. 
 Said the wee wee old woman, "Oh, cat, do kill rat; 
 rat won't gnaw rope, rope won't hang butcher, butcher 
 won't kill ox, ox won't drink w^ater, water won't 
 quench fire, fire won't burn stick, stick won't beat 
 wee wee pig, wee wee pig won't go over bridge, and 
 I shan't git home to-night ! " But the cat would n't kill 
 the rat ! So the wee wee old woman went along till she 
 came to a dog. Said the wee wee old woman, " Oh, 
 dog, do kill cat ; cat won't kill rat, rat won'tgnawrope, 
 rope won't hang butcher, butcher won't kill ox, ox 
 C 126 ] 
 
TENTH BAKING 
 
 won't drink water, water won't quench fire, fire won't 
 burn stick, stick won't beat wee wee pig, wee wee pig 
 won't go over bridge, and I shan't git home to-night ! " 
 But the dog would n't kill the cat ! So the wee wee old 
 woman went along till she came to a bear. Said the wee 
 wee old woman, ' ' Oh, bear, do kill dog ; dog won't kill 
 cat, cat won't kill rat, rat won't gnaw rope, rope won't 
 hang butcher, butcher won't kill ox, ox won't drink 
 water, water won't quench fire, fire won't burn stick, 
 stick won't beat wee wee pig, wee wee pig won't go 
 over bridge, and I shan't git home to-night ! " But the 
 bear would n't kill dog ! So the wee wee old woman went 
 along till she came to a lion. Said the wee wee old wo- 
 man, " Oh, hon, do kill bear ; bear won't kill dog, dog 
 won't kill cat, cat won't kill rat, rat won't gnaw rope, 
 rope won't hang butcher, butcher won't kill ox, ox 
 won't drink water, water won't quench fire, fire won't 
 burn stick, stick won't beat wee wee pig, wee wee pig 
 won't go over bridge, and I shan't git home to-night ! ' ' 
 But the lion wouldn't kill bear! The poor old wee 
 wee woman was now in a dreadful quandary. The lion 
 was king of beasts, and the wee wee old woman did n't 
 know anything that could kill the lion. So the wee wee 
 old woman sat down on an old stump, discouraged 
 and all tired out. Presently the wee wee old woman saw 
 a wee little black flea, on her checked apron. So just in 
 joke and for nonsense the wee wee old woman said, 
 "Oh, wee wee flea, do kill lion ; lion won't kill bear, 
 bear won't kill dog, dog won't kill cat, cat won't kill 
 rat, rat won't gnaw rope, rope won't hang butcher, 
 butcher won't kill ox, ox won't drink water, water 
 won't quench fire, fire won't burn stick, stick won't 
 
 C 127 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 beat wee wee pig, wee wee pig won't go over bridge, 
 and I shan't git home to-night! " Now the wee wee 
 flea was a kind-souled, womanish little wee wee flea, 
 and no sooner was she made acquainted with the poor 
 old wee wee woman's trouble than the wee wee flea gave 
 a spring and lighted just inside the lion's right nos- 
 tril, out of the reach of his paw. Here the wee wee flea 
 began to bite the inside of the lion's nose so sharp that 
 he got dreadful mad, and just out of spite began to kill 
 the bear, whereupon the bear began to kill the dog, the 
 dog began to kill the cat, the cat began to kill the rat, 
 the rat began to gnaw the rope, the rope began to hang 
 the butcher, the butcher began to kill the ox, the ox 
 began to drink the water, the water began to quench 
 the fire, the fire began to burn the stick, the stick 
 began to beat the wee wee pig, the wee wee pig began 
 to go over the bridge, and the wee wee old woman got 
 home time enough to go to bed that night. Thus the in- 
 significant little wee wee black flea became the remote 
 cause of getting the poor old wee wee woman out of 
 all her troubles, just as I intend to show how Phillis, 
 my grandfather's illustrious colored cook, through a 
 concatenation of mighty events, set in motion through 
 her means, became the remote cause of the French 
 Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie 
 Antoinette. And yet, such is the innate ingratitude 
 of human nature, that I scarce doubt if that wee wee 
 flea, after doing so much for the wee wee old woman, 
 had attempted to get into bed with her that night, so 
 as to warm herself a little, the wee wee old woman 
 would have pinched her; that is, provided she could 
 have caught the flea napping ! 
 C 128 ] 
 
TENTH BAKING 
 
 In addition to the above gems, I may here remark 
 that before I was three years old my mother had taught 
 me to say that beautiful little prayer of four lines, ' ' Now 
 I lay me down to sleep," every night just after I got 
 into bed, and on all occasions of anxiety and trouble to 
 repeat that beautiful embodiment of all prayer, "Our 
 Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name," 
 and I don't think I ever lay down once at night in the 
 first ten or twelve years of my life without at least be- 
 ginning to say the first-named prayer, although I must 
 say that I sometimes did fall asleep before I finished 
 it. Sometimes I repeated it on other sudden occasions 
 when I had not time to repeat ' ' Our Father who art 
 in Heaven." I remember when I was a school-boy, 
 nigh upon ten years old, I got on the bare back of old 
 Bob, one of farmer Truman's big plow horses, to ride 
 him to water, Jim Sykes having mounted his mate, 
 Suke, and started a few minutes before me. Bob was 
 stone-blind, and just as I set out, one rein of my bridle 
 broke, and Bob, hearing the clatter of Suke's feet a 
 good way ahead, broke into a full run to catch up with 
 her. I thought my time had about come, and calling 
 to mind my good mother's oft repeated injunction, 
 blessed be her holy name, always to pray when in dan- 
 ger, I threw myself forward flat on Bob's neck, and 
 clung to his mane with both hands for dear life, whilst 
 I repeated in my haste : 
 
 " Now I lay me down to sleep, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to keep, 
 And if I ne'er again awake, 
 I pray the Lord my soul to take. ' ' 
 
 C 129 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 I had hardly finished the last word of my heart-felt, 
 though seemingly inappropriate prayer, when old blind 
 Bob plunged headlong into a deep gully, that was close 
 to the side of the path, as it passed through a gateway, 
 and pitched me some four rods, more or less, over his 
 head, the small of my back fetching up like the middle 
 of a chain shot against a big white oak gate-post, so 
 that as farmer Truman said, my head and heels came 
 together on the other side of it. The strangest part of 
 all was, that I was not hurt one atom, and jumped up 
 as well as ever ! Now I have a firm and abiding faith in 
 the efficacy of prayer, and am just old fool enough to 
 believe that the earnest childish aspirations that went 
 forth on the occasion from my heart and inmost spirit 
 irrespective of the mechanical expressions with which 
 they were clothed, were sufficient in the divine economy 
 and beautiful simplicity of God's laws to penetrate the 
 spirit realms, and create, as it were, a telegraphic com- 
 munication, through which loving, ministering angels 
 were enabled to descend and shield me from harm, as 
 they do in myriads of instances wherein the preserva- 
 tion of mortals is attributed to blind chance. 
 
 To return from this digression, I may say that I knew 
 old Major Lunt, Washington's barber, who shaved 
 Storer's pig, quite well, and used to be fond of talk- 
 ing with him about Revolutionary times and General 
 Washington. I disremember the time when the Major 
 told me that the General excelled all other men in every- 
 thing, not excepting swearing, whatever the ministers 
 might say to the contrary. He said if I did n't believe 
 him, I ought to have been present when the General 
 first met Lee on the battle-field at Monmouth, the latter 
 
 C ISO 3 
 
TENTH BAKING 
 
 having for some time kept out of the fight purposely, 
 not because he was a coward, but to throw obloquy on 
 Washington, whose placb as commander-in-chief Lee 
 aspired to. Major Lunt said he was standing close to 
 Washington at the time, acting as his aid. Two six- 
 pounders, one on each side of them, were playing on tlie 
 enemy, and all the way Lunt said he could tell when 
 they were discharged was to watch the mouths of the 
 cannon and see the fire and smoke go out, for he could 
 no more hear their report for the quarter of an hour 
 Washington was damning Lee than I could hear the 
 finest cambric needle fall on a hay mow in a thunder- 
 storm ! I used also to know Squire Matthew Waite — 
 Mat Waite, as he was commonly called — who, among 
 many other accomplishments, had a remarkable fac- 
 ulty of scaring a hog — simply by catching its eye with 
 his and then making a quiet under-breath hissing 
 sound. I also knew old James Helme, — Jimmy Helme, 
 — a son of Judge Helme, who removed from the home- 
 stead on Tower Hill to Little Rest when the state and 
 town capital was removed to the latter place, he being, 
 for a great many years before his death, Town Clerk, 
 whilst his brother , Samuel Helme , — Sammy Helme , — 
 was for a long time clerk of the Court of Common Pleas . 
 They were both red-hot Republicans, in contradistinc- 
 tion to Federalists, but men of sterling probity and 
 unblemished character, like their father, Judge Helme. 
 It used to be said that Jimmy Helme, though a mar- 
 ried man and housekeeper for half a century or more, 
 never once took tea out of his own house. Mr. Helme 
 lived in the large gambrel-roofed house ^^ now standing 
 on the north-east corner of the road-crossing, which 
 
 C 131 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 was built after the pattern of the old Judge Helme 
 house on Tower Hill, which is also still standing. I 
 remember, when I was young, that Jimmy Helme built 
 a strong, high-fence hog-pen for an old sow and pigs, 
 he had just purchased, which were of the land-shark 
 breed, then common in some parts of the South County. 
 This genus of swine were peculiar in some respects, 
 being remarkably slab-sided and of great length of 
 body, which was attached to the hinder part of a head 
 and peaked snout some two yards or more in length, 
 with legs of corresponding dimensions. Mat Waite^^ 
 happened to be passing just as Jimmy Helme had got 
 his new purchase secured into the high board pen, and 
 Jimmie called him to come and see what a nice hog 
 house he had just finished off. "Yes, Mr. Helme," 
 said Mat, "you have a nice high pen there, but I can 
 drive that old sow and pigs out of it in less time than 
 you can say Jack Robin. ' ' ' ' You drive my old sow and 
 pigs over that fence, Mr. Waite? Let's see you do it! " 
 "Oh, no," said Mat. "I don't want to give you the 
 trouble to get them back again, but I can do it, Mr. 
 Helme! " " You can, can you," retorted Mr. Helme. 
 Well, I will believe you when I see you do it, and not 
 before." Thus urged. Mat fixed his eye for a few mo- 
 ments intently upon that of the old sow, and then made 
 a peculiar sort of hiss. Upon this the old sow backed 
 into the further corner of the pen with her eyes still fixed 
 in fear and wonder on Mat. On the repetition of the 
 wonder-working hiss, the old sow shrunk, as if within 
 herself, and put another twist in her already tightly- 
 curled tail. Another hiss, and away she darted like a 
 streak of lightning over the high board fence, followed 
 [ 132 ] 
 
TENTH BAKING 
 
 by every pig in the pen. As for Jimmy, who always 
 dressed like a gentleman of the old school, as he was. 
 Mat said he laid right down and rolled in the dirt, de- 
 claring between his laughing spells that he wouldn't 
 have believed the Devil himself could have scared the 
 old sow and pigs out of that pen, if he had not seen 
 him do it with his own eyes. As for the future of the 
 old she land-shark and her litter of pigs, the last that 
 was ever seen of them was about a mile south-west 
 of the village, just as they passed with the speed of the 
 wind the Little Rest cotton manufactory,^^ erected in 
 1809, and were entering the Potter swamp, it being 
 an off-shoot of the great swamp where the big Indian 
 fight occurred in 1675, which was instigated against 
 the rightful owners of the soil, solely by the cussed 
 godly Puritans of Massachusetts and their hell-bound 
 allies, the Presbyterians of Connecticut, whom, though 
 charity is my specialty, I can never think of without 
 feeling, as all Rhode Islanders should, somewhat as 
 Judge Potter has recently expressed himself in the 
 Journal, and as old Miss Hazard did when in like 
 vein she thanked God in the Conanicut prayer meet- 
 ing, that she could hold malice forty years. I could go 
 on and tell enough of these Little Rest stories to fill ten 
 thousand or less Journals, but I must forbear, or I shall 
 never live to tell how it was that Phillis, my grand- 
 father's never-to-be-forgotten accomplished colored 
 cook, came to be the remote cause of the French Revo- 
 lution, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie An- 
 toinette. Even now I have got myself in such an epi- 
 sodical maze, that I feel like taking an observation, as 
 Frank did, to find out where I be. Frank, whom I re- 
 
 C 133 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 member well, was a well-educated scion of a good Rhode 
 Island family, who had acquired dissipated habits, and 
 used to loaf about the South Ferry in Narragansett, 
 which was then owned and kept by Ezekiel Gardiner, 
 son of Peleg. Frank used sometimes to tend the ferry- 
 boat, and I remember an occasion when the late honor- 
 able William Hunter was passing over to South Kings- 
 town from Newport with the British Minister on a trout- 
 ing expedition. Their conversation happened to turn on 
 the correct reading of a passage in Virgil, in regard to 
 which they did not agree. The wind was very light, 
 and Frank, who was tending the boat, was lying flat 
 on his back steering with one foot thrown over the tiller. 
 After the discussion had proceeded some time between 
 the two gentlemen, both of whom were thoroughly read 
 in the classics, without a satisfactory conclusion be- 
 ing arrived at, what was the Englishman's surprise to 
 hear the ragged, red-faced boatman, after rolling a 
 huge chaw of tobacco from the left to the right side of 
 his mouth, repeat at the top of his voice, set to a camp- 
 meeting tune, the disputed passage in the original 
 Latin, and then give its correct translation in the ver- 
 nacular. The English Minister never took his eyes off 
 Frank until the boat reached the shore, an hour after- 
 wards, when, on his expressing surprise at the ferry- 
 man's classical knowledge. Hunter told his friend that 
 such instances as he had witnessed were not rare among 
 the laboring classes in Narragansett, whose every-day 
 talk was seasoned with scores of cant expressions ac- 
 quired from the reading of Shakespeare, such as "to 
 rights ' ' 1^ for directly ; ' ' other gates house than that, ' ' 
 as a threat; "on it," for it, &c., &c. It so happened 
 
 [ 134 ] 
 
TENTH BAKING 
 
 that a couple of Little Rest wags, whose names I will 
 not expose, chanced to get wind bound at Franklin's 
 Ferry, now South Ferry, on their way to Newport, 
 and knowing of Frank's besetting weakness, they 
 thought they would beguile the tediousness of time by 
 passing oflF a bodily joke at his expense. So they plied 
 Frank through the afternoon with all the liquor he 
 would hold, until he became dead drunk. In the even- 
 ing they carried Frank up into the cock-loft of the old 
 tumble-down ferry house, and put him into a huge old- 
 time nigger meal chest that had been there time out of 
 mind, placing a corn cob under the lid, so as to give 
 him air. A grown-up black boy by the name of Jonah 
 slept in the cock-loft, whose complexion was so dark 
 that in the dim twilight of his sleeping apartment, 
 lighted by one six-by-eight dingy pane only, a round 
 piece of ebony placed beside his face would have looked 
 like a snow-ball. The wags bribed Jonah with a quar- 
 ter dollar, or pistareen, I forget which, to let them orna- 
 ment his face and head in a most fantastic style, prom- 
 inent in which v^^as a pair of bull's horns still attached to 
 a part of the hide, and to report to them the next morn- 
 ing what might occur. It seems that Frank slept sound 
 until about three o'clock in the morning, when on wak- 
 ing , he managed to raise the lid of the meal chest with one 
 hand a few inches and make an observation, as I have 
 before hinted. Just discerning something in one corner 
 that looked like a sleeping place, he called out, "You 
 sur? " Receiving no answer, Frank repeated in a louder 
 tone, ' ' I say, you sur ? " " What you want ? ' ' said Jo- 
 nah. "Where bel?" inquired Frank. "In hell,"replied 
 Jonah. Upon this fact being announced, Frank raised 
 
 C ^S5 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 the lid somewhat higher, so as to get his full head out- 
 side the meal chest, whilst peering more keenly into 
 the surroundings of his room-mate, he queried of him, 
 ' ' Be you the Devil ? " " No, ' ' responded the black boy. 
 "Who be you?" again asked Frank. "I be Jonah!" 
 said the darky. By this time Frank's vision had become 
 more reconciled to the dim atmosphere, and scanning 
 Jonah's head-dress, complexion, and features more 
 closely, he remarked, ' ' Well, I don't wonder the whale 
 spewed you out ; ' ' adding, ' ' Look yer here, Jonah , you 
 have been in these parts longer than I and must be 
 better acquainted. Can you show me where I can get 
 my bottle plenished with old Jamaike?" 
 
 [ 136 ;] 
 
'O^rencknouse, l(^n^stdnr~~ -^ 
 
 ""<^'m..^,,.. 
 
 .y^^'^uu.coka^^ 
 
 Eleventh Baking 
 
 I SEE nothing serious now in the way to delay my 
 telling Cat Story No. 2, after which I propose 
 narrating how it came about that my grandfather's 
 super-excellent colored cook, Phillis, came to be the re- 
 mote cause of the French Revolution, and the death of 
 Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. To begin: there used 
 to live in a house situated on the south side of the Ferry 
 wharf, in Newport, where Charles P. Barber now keeps 
 an extensive grocery, an odd character by the name of 
 Charles Comstock, who kept a boarding-house, princi- 
 pally for the accommodation of Narragansett farmers, 
 who were in those primitive times frequently obliged to 
 stay a week in town before they could find purchasers 
 by the bushel or less for the fifty bushels of the divin- 
 est kind of ambrosia they had carted with their ox- 
 teams to and from the mill, then ten to twenty miles 
 
 C 137 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 distance to the South Ferry, and thence by water to 
 Newport via Conanicut. Old Comstock, as he was fa- 
 miharly called since my remembrance, had for his tav- 
 ern sign swinging on hinges over the sidewalk, the full- 
 length picture of a thick-set, squat-built man, holding 
 a big tom-cat aloft by the tail in his left hand, whilst 
 he grasped a hot iron in his right, in the act of brand- 
 ing the quadruped. I think I remember seeing this 
 sign hanging in position when I was a boy. Robert 
 Sherman, who keeps the A No. 1 grocery next west of 
 Barber's, tells me that he remembers seeing the sign, 
 but not until after it had been taken down and removed 
 into the inside of the house. But then Robert is not 
 so old as I am by some years. Beneath the picture 
 of the man and cat was printed in large capitals, 
 " 'LisHA Garner, Cat Inspector." The cause of old 
 Comstock 's adopting so singular a sign I will relate, 
 premising my narrative with a few remarks by way of 
 preface. The well and always favorably know^n tav- 
 ern,^* now called hotel, on Little Rest or Kingston Hill 
 or Potter's Hill, now kept by John N. Taylor, suc- 
 cessor to his father, the late Philip Taylor, was founded 
 more than a century ago by Joseph Reynolds, a host 
 of such surpassing genius in his professional line that 
 his house became as famous a resort for the wits and 
 good fellows in Rhode Island as Will's Coffee House 
 was in London in the days of Queen Anne, when it 
 was the habitual gathering place of Addison, Steele, 
 and the literati and wits of England in general. I never 
 knew the even tenor of Joe Runnells to be broken in 
 upon but once, and that was when he struck, in about 
 the year 1815, for a higher price for a dinner, which 
 
 c 138 : 
 
ELEVENTH BAKING 
 
 had always been twenty-five cents from a time anterior 
 to the memory of the oldest inhabitant. The whole of 
 
 uht KPat uotdfiector-. 
 
 the Town Council had been accustomed to get a sump- 
 tuous dinner at Joe's at the monthly meeting, and when 
 
 C 139 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Joe struck for the high price of two shillings, 33^ 
 cents, Rhode Island currency, the council also struck, 
 and refused to dine at all on Little Rest for some months 
 and until Joe succumbed and put back his price to 
 twenty-five cents instead of thirty-three. After Joe Rey- 
 nolds' decease, his son John, one of the most genial and 
 amiable men I ever knew, succeeded his father as land- 
 lord. Some men have a habitual smile that exhibits it- 
 self on the cuticle of the face only. Such can smile and 
 smile again and be a villain. Not so with John Rey- 
 nolds ; his habitual smile emanated from the heart and 
 exhibited itself in the eye, which never deceives, so far 
 as I am aware. John never left his house to go abroad 
 but once in the year, and that was to attend 'lection in 
 Newport in May, which he was sure not to miss. The 
 old Joe Reynolds tavern looks about the same as it did 
 when I first knew it, some seventy years ago, with the 
 exception of the honey locusts that still stand in front of 
 it, which I remember Jonathan Whitman broughtfrom 
 Providence and set out for his friend Joe, some fifty or 
 more years ago. That was the third innovation in the 
 order of time that occurred on Little Rest. The second 
 was the Hon. Elisha R. Potter's new house, which was 
 built something after a new-fangled style not previously 
 known in Narragansett. The first innovation I remem- 
 ber well. I think it was made about the year 1805, by 
 Cyrus French, who made a bank of earth supported by 
 a rough stone wall against the lot adjoining his house 
 on the road running down the hill west, and planted it 
 with a row of trees still standing. 
 
 I well remember old Cyrus French, who carried on 
 the hatter's trade, and after him his son William, the 
 [ 140 ] 
 
ELEVENTH BAKING 
 
 genial, loud-talking, fat man. Old Cyrus was a tall, 
 bulky man, who came to Little Rest from Grafton, in 
 Massachusetts, where it was said he had been an active 
 participant in the Shays rebellion. Like his son Wil- 
 liam, old Cyrus French was a capital story-teller. I dis- 
 remember the exact day when he related of a winter's 
 evening to the company that usually gathered at Joe 
 Runnell's, a remarkable adventure he had whilst on a 
 sleigh ride, wherein his horse ran away, and after break- 
 ing the harness all to tatters, left him and the sleigh 
 buried in a snow-bank full ten feet deep. After extricat- 
 ing himself, he proceeded on foot some distance, look- 
 ing, without success, for assistance, until he came to 
 some men mowing grass in a field, who went with him 
 and helped lift the sleigh out of the snow-drift and re- 
 instate his horse. After Cyrus had finished his story, 
 Capt. Bill Rodman, who happened to be present, re- 
 marked in a way he had, "Stranger, I never saw you 
 before, and I don't know as I shall ever see you again, 
 but this I will say, that I should Hke to know whether 
 grass is grown fit for the scythe in Massachusetts when 
 snow lies all around in banks ten feet deep, as you have 
 stated?" "I stated no such thing," retorted Cyrus. 
 " The snow-bank was in Massachusetts, as I said, but 
 the men were mowing more than a mile this side of 
 the Rhode Island line! " The answer was satisfactory 
 to all present, and French was at once installed by a 
 unanimous vote, a member of the "Little Rest Club 
 of Odd Fellows." 
 
 I may here remark that Capt. Bill Rodman was a 
 character! He was once overtaken with a sudden and 
 violent squall of wind as he and another man were 
 i 141 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 crossing the Point Judith salt pond in a canoe, when 
 their lives were actually in jeopardy, but all the con- 
 cern the captain expressed was his vexation that 
 one like him, who had safely navigated and circum- 
 navigated the globe in every direction, should at last 
 come home to be drowned " in a d — d little duck-pud- 
 dle! "^^ A pompous English traveler once put up for 
 the night at "Joe Runnell's," who sought to entertain 
 the usual evening company with the relation of many 
 hair-breadth escapes from death he had experienced in 
 many ways. Finally he gave an account of a remark- 
 able duel that had taken place in Holland, in which he 
 was second to one of the parties. I forget the circum- 
 stances that brought the seconds in danger of their lives, 
 but they were so awful that the Englishman wound 
 up his relation of the affair with the remark, "To tell 
 the truth I did then feel a little afraid." Capt. Bill, 
 who had hitherto remained silent, put in his oar and 
 remarked: "Stranger, I never saw you before, and I 
 don't know as I shall ever see you again, but this I 
 will say, that them last words of yours rattled in my 
 ears the most like truth of anything I have heard you 
 say yet." Upon this the stranger subsided for that 
 night. 
 
 Speaking of old Cyrus French makes me think of 
 Timothy Peckham, father of Nathaniel C. Peckham, 
 who owned and occupied the house that used to stand 
 next to the court-house on the east by north. Timothy 
 Peckham was a man of the true Rhode Island grit, 
 who would contend for a principle if it amounted to 
 but the ninth part of a hair. I also well remember his 
 father, who nearly a century ago owned and lived on 
 C 142 ] 
 
ELEVENTH BAKING 
 
 the farm lying north of the Rocky Brook manufac- 
 tories. His head was as white as snow, and he was one 
 of the most venerable -looking old men I ever saw. Old 
 Cyrus French and Timothy Jun. got involved in a 
 law-suit some sixty years ago about a bar-post that one 
 or the other of the litigants, I forget which, charged, 
 extended full two inches over his side of the line . Neither 
 party would give way, so at it they went, until the 
 lawyers and judges as usual kept the parties in court 
 until they had nearly bankrupted both, and when 
 finally, after years had passed, and the jury was sent by 
 the court to examine the situation of the bar-post, it 
 was found that during the period of litigation the part 
 in dispute had so rotted away that the alleged cause 
 of action no longer existed, and the case was dismissed 
 with costs for defendant. I do not remember what effect 
 the expenses of the law-suit had on French, but if I 
 remember rightly they were so heavy against Peck- 
 ham that he was obliged to sell a considerable part of 
 his real estate to enable him to foot the bills. Whilst 
 my hand is in, I will just say that at the eastern cor- 
 ner of the court-house lot and the main road is situated 
 the saddler's shop and house that was owned and oc- 
 cupied in the olden time by John T. Nichols, the sad- 
 dler, one of the kindest and most innocent men that 
 ever lived in Little Rest or elsewhere. Nichols kept a 
 boarding-house for a great many years, during which 
 he charged one dollar per week for board and lodging 
 only, and gave his guests good fare, including fine 
 Rhode Island turkeys in their season . If readers ask 
 how it was possible to board men at so low a price, I 
 answer the fact of its being done proves it was possi- 
 
 C 143 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 ble, whatsoever modern wasters of the good things of 
 earth and impracticable theorists may say. In those 
 days money was scarce and farmers paid their sad- 
 dler's bills, as well as most others, in kind, that is, in 
 the produce of their farms, which Nichols, by taking 
 boarders, turned into money. William P. Newell, the 
 former law partner of Nathan F. Dixon, of Pawca- 
 tuck Bridge — now Westerly — boarded with John T. 
 Nichols for many years. He used to sit at one end of 
 the table, which was long and narrow, and Nichols 
 at the other. Newell was very tall and scraggy in 
 his build, with a wonderful prominent hooked nose, 
 which, it used to be hinted, was the cause of Nichols 
 placing him at the end of the table, as it was found, 
 when he was seated on one side, his olfactory member 
 would occasionally get entangled in the lady's stom- 
 acher who sat opposite him, the table being but four 
 feet wide. John T. Nichols died a violent death, being 
 murdered with a lancet by Dr. Sangrado. His blood 
 got into an impure, morbid state, which on occasion of 
 his one day pricking his finger with a saddler's needle 
 caused the foul matter in his system to concentrate in 
 that direction, so that his hand and arm swelled double 
 its natural size. Instead of giving his patient a dose of 
 bilious pills, and a powerful hot water and hot lem- 
 onade sweat, 1** which would have removed the trouble 
 in a few hours, Sangrado applied as usual the lan- 
 cet, thus drawing from his veins the purest part of 
 the blood, and leaving the remainder to congest and 
 putrefy in the body until death ensued, as the natural 
 consequence. A few days before Nichols' death, San- 
 grado had also slain a poor woman who resided a 
 C 144 H 
 
ELEVENTH BAKING 
 
 little north of Little Rest, in the same way, who had 
 scratched her hand with a blackberry briar, her arm 
 swelling inconsequence, as Nichols' did. A few days 
 after Nichols' death, I chanced to call at Benjamin 
 Hull's on Tower Hill, the then post-master, and found 
 him sitting despondent in the daily expectation of death , 
 from having knocked off a small chip of skin from his 
 knuckle with a piece of iron. He had evidently given 
 up to die. I asked Hull what he did for his arm, which 
 was swollen to the shoulder and supported in a sling. 
 He said Dr. Sangrado had been there two or three 
 times and bled him. Said I, in a rage, "Ben, if you 
 want to live, the next time that ignorant doctor comes 
 to see you, order him out of your house or death will 
 surely be your fate! " I gave him my prescription, 
 which he took, and declined being longer treated by 
 Sangrado. It is needless to say that in a few days Hull 
 was well again and about his business as usual, just 
 as Nichols and the woman would have been under 
 like treatment. If the graveyards in Rhode Island, 
 especially the south part, could speak, they would tell 
 us that thousands upon thousands of the young men 
 and women who were cut off in the prime of life dur- 
 ing the first half of the nineteenth century were sent 
 there before their time by the Sangrados that, until 
 a very late period, have been a curse to mankind, and 
 now do nearly as great execution in the killing art by 
 the deceitful action of benumbing and stupefying mor- 
 phine and other opiates and narcotics. 
 
 Speaking of M.D.'s, I well remember old Dr. Al- 
 drich, who lived some fifty years or more ago in the 
 Tom Potter House, that stood at the south-west corner 
 
 C 145 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 of the roads running east and south over Little Rest. 
 He was a kind-hearted, good old man, whose patients 
 were very apt to get well simply for the reason that he 
 did little or nothing for them farther than any old wo- 
 man could have done as well or better than he. I remem- 
 ber once when old Miss Jinny Wilson sent for Dr. Al- 
 drich and related to him a host of symptoms sufficient 
 to warrant a first-rate scientific physician in exhausting 
 an ordinary apothecary's shop with prescriptions, and 
 the patient of the last dollar, though they might be as 
 rich as Croesus. ' ' And, now, doctor, ' ' said the old lady, 
 ' ' do tell what is the matter with me? " " God knows, 
 madam," replied the honest old doctor, "I don't." 
 Doctor Aldrich ^'^ made a pill of his own invention that 
 used to be sufficient of itself to cure most bilious or con- 
 gestive maladies that occurred in his rounds of practice. 
 I well remember an instance when a mulatto wench 
 who lived in my father's family was taken with what 
 were then deemed the fatal symptoms of the fall fever, 
 that under the blood-letting and opium treatment of the 
 Sangrados used to prove fatal in a vast majority of in- 
 stances. My father sent for Doctor Sangrado, who lived 
 in the two-story house still standing at Curtis' corner. 
 He came to South Kingstown from Connecticut, and 
 was held to be the most accomplished and scientific 
 physician for the first few years of his practice in the 
 South County, never having been known to enter a 
 single house in the way of his profession without send- 
 ing from one to five of its inmates to their graves. He 
 attended the famous medical lectures in Philadelphia, 
 and had become a thorough proficient in the Dr. Rush 
 method of healing the sick, which was in all cases, let 
 [ 146 ] 
 
ELEVENTH BAKING 
 
 what might be the symptoms, first to draw every drop 
 of blood that could be got out of the body, and then 
 inclose the patient in a close, hot room, and, above all 
 things, command that not a drop of fresh water should 
 be given them to drink — for the reason that the vile 
 natural fluid might interfere with the action of the calo- 
 mel and jalap, Dover's powders and opium doses, and 
 other death-producing prescriptions, and thereby effect 
 a cure of the malady, by an unscientific method not 
 permitted by the medical schools. In at least nine cases 
 out of ten under the Sangrado treatment patients sank 
 into a fever, in the olden time dubbed typhus, which, 
 if we are to believe the morphine practitioners of the 
 present day, has changed into typhoid, God only know- 
 ing the difference, both simply being, in a majority of 
 cases, the low fever that precedes death caused by mal- 
 practice. The excessive mortality among Sangrado 's 
 patients was the real cause of his acquiring such re- 
 nown in the art of healing, as about one in ten of his 
 patients wholly or partially recovered, which of course 
 was credited by an ignorant community to the skill of 
 Sangrado, who attributed the death of the other nine 
 to the virulence of the mortal malady; whereas the 
 truth was, as was in later years fully exemplified, the 
 nine were actually slowly tortured to death by the phy- 
 sician, whilst the tenth got well in spite of his death- 
 deaHng practices. This Curtis' Corner Sangrado M^as 
 undoubtedly the rider on the pale horse referred to in 
 the Apocalypse, who went about with his lancet and 
 saddle-bags stuffed with mercury, jalap, Dover's pow- 
 der, opium, and other abominations, and his name that 
 sat on him was Death, and Hell followed after him. 
 
 I 147 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 It was not until the Curtis' Corner Sangrado had 
 decimated the neighborhood that Shepherd Tom, then 
 scarcely out of his teens, succeeded in convincing his 
 fellow townsmen, that nearly every death by typhus 
 fever in South Kingstown was caused by his murder- 
 ous practices, and he was finally obliged to leave the 
 town and return to the wooden nutmeg state, ^^M^here 
 his father, the Devil, had held sway for more than 
 a century, and is not yet expelled from his favorite 
 churches and medical schools. 
 
 But to return. When Dr. Sangrado arrived and ex- 
 amined his patient, the mulatto girl, he pronounced 
 her case extra serious, but thought it possible she 
 might be carried through by his consummate skill. 
 My father objecting to the use of the lancet, its most 
 potent aid was deferred until the next visit of the re- 
 nowned doctor. After he left, my father gave the girl 
 a dose of Dr. Aldrich's bilious pills, and the next day 
 she was well and about her work as usual. In the after- 
 noon Sangrado came trotting up to the door on the 
 pale horse, with his Pandora saddle-bags, stuffed as 
 usual with all the vile poisons of the M.D.'s death- 
 dealing trade. After paying the compliments of the 
 season Sangrado inquired after his patient. My father 
 told him he had given her a dose of Aldrich's pills the 
 night before, and that she was now well and at work 
 in the kitchen . I wish the whole world could have been 
 present on that occasion, so as to have seen the ex- 
 pression of the doctor's countenance when notified of 
 the health of his patient, and the consequent loss of a 
 profitable case. After looking, as it were, nine or more 
 ways for Sunday, he seized his saddle-bags that lay 
 [ 148 ] 
 
ELEVENTH BAKING 
 
 beside him, with a convulsive grip, and as he arose 
 from his seat to depart, remarked in a soliloquizing, 
 absent tone: "Those pills are devilish things." San- 
 grado never entered my father's house thenceforward, 
 nor did he ever send in his bill for professional services 
 in the case of the mulatto girl, which, in those mod- 
 erate-charging days, would have amounted to one 
 dollar for the two visits, although at that time there 
 resided in New Bedford an old doctor of wide fame as 
 a successful physician, who used to charge but four- 
 pence halfpenny, 6% cents, for all visits not exceeding 
 a mile, and died rich at that. 
 
 The Hon. Elisha R.Potter [father to Judge Potter, 
 Lawy er W illiam , Dr . Thomas , and James M . B . Potter] 
 was a constant visitor at Joe Runnell's, where he could 
 be seen sitting on the stoop nearly every pleasant after- 
 noon. He was, while in his prime, the autocrat, not only 
 of Little Rest, but of the town and county in which he 
 resided, and for many years the most influential man 
 in the state, being a natural born great man. His four 
 sons are more than an average of the cultivated men, 
 but their father in debate, whether in Congress, the 
 General Assembly, or in town meeting, could put more 
 lightning into twenty words than either of his sons ever 
 compressed into as many pages. He was a true Rhode 
 Islander, as tender-hearted as any woman, and a firm 
 and reliable friend, but woe betide the unlucky wight 
 who opposed him in politics, as Lawyer Newell and 
 Squire Mat Waite ventured to do, whose eyelids thence- 
 forth knew no slumber, neither did their bones know any 
 rest. For many years Elisha R. Potter, of South Kings- 
 town, and Benjamin Hazard, of Newport, were by far 
 
 C 149 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 the most able debaters in the General Assembly, and 
 this, too, at a period when I fearlessly assert there were 
 more able men versed in the science of government 
 within its halls than can now be found in the Congress 
 of the United States. Whatever might be their poHtical 
 or partisan differences, whilst Potter and Hazard con- 
 trolled the General Assembly, the honor and interests of 
 Rhode Island were safe, and deeply is it to be regretted 
 that with all their faults, their places can no longer be 
 filled by men of equal talent and patriotism. 
 
 The estimation in which Squire Potter was held 
 may be judged by the fact that the negroes, these nice 
 discerners of character, of the olden time, who not only 
 held their annual elections for Governor and other ojffi- 
 cers after the manner of the whites, but instituted a 
 debating society, which met to discuss subjects of 
 interest on Little Rest Hill, the first subject for dis- 
 cussion that was entered upon being, "Who makes 
 thunder? " which, after some three hours' debate, was, 
 by a written resolution, decided as follows: 
 
 ' ' Resolved^ Magnanimously by this here meeting, that 
 " while Gor ormighty make the litenin, it takes Massa 
 " 'Lisha Potter to make thunder. 
 
 {Signed) "Captain Guy Watson, Esc^., 
 "Moderator, Chairman and President of this here Bating 
 "Siety, held in the Siety's room, on Little Rest Hill, this 
 "here 4th day of July, one thousand eight hundred and 
 "fifteen, and in the year of our Lord, Hannah Dominy, 
 "1815." 
 
 I think the foregoing will about suffice as a necessary 
 preface to Cat Story No. 2, which I will, should nothing 
 prevent, try to conclude in my next, after which I hope 
 
 [ 150 ] 
 
ELEVENTH BAKING 
 
 to be able to satisfy my readers how it happened that 
 Phillis, my grandfather's world- wide-famed colored 
 cook, happened to be the remote cause of the French 
 Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie 
 Antoinette. 
 
 C 151 ] 
 
Twelfth Baking 
 
 I THINK I told my readers in my last chapter that 
 I would, should nothing prevent, try to conclude 
 Cat Story No. 2 in my next number, after which I hope 
 to be able to relate the remarkable circumstances that 
 rendered Phillis, my grandfather's superlative colored 
 cook, the remote cause of the French Revolution and the 
 death of Marie Antoinette. So not to be tedious I will 
 take up the thread of that story just where I diverged 
 from it in my last number. I was about to tell how it 
 happened that old Comstock adopted as his tavern sign 
 the picture of a fat man holding up a cat by the tail 
 with one hand, whilst he brandished in the other a red 
 hot branding iron, with the letters ^'Elisha Garner, 
 Cat Inspector," printed in large outlandish capitals 
 beneath. It was after this wise: Old Comstock used to 
 peddle various Yankee notions in Narragansett out of 
 
 C 152 J 
 
TWELFTH BAKING 
 
 his horse-cart, there never having been up to his day 
 a single four-wheeled vehicle in all the Narragansett 
 country, the gentry both male and female as well as all 
 others esteeming it more manly and womanly to jour- 
 ney on saddle and pillion than in any other way. It is 
 true that the wealthier classes had for the convenience 
 of their wives and daughters when in delicate health, 
 the old-fashioned one-horse ' ' shay, ' ' imported at great 
 cost from England, but up to the time that Squire 
 'Lisha Potter drove home from Congress in a covered 
 two-horse carriage, no other four-wheeled contrivance, 
 not even an ox wagon, had ever been seen in the Old 
 South County. 
 
 The next covered four-wheeled carriage, I think, 
 was brought into South Kingstown by James Robin- 
 son, the father of William, Ed ward, Atmore, &c . , some- 
 where between the years 1813 and 1815, on the oc- 
 casion of his bringing his wife home from Philadel- 
 phia. I remember Jimmy Robinson's coming home in 
 this new-fashioned carriage from the circumstance that 
 one morning my father sent me and Sam Rodman, now 
 of Rocky Brook, down to the old pier to spread some 
 sea-weed that had been tipped up in separate ox-cart 
 loads on the lot now owned and occupied by Saunders 
 Coates. The sea-weed was of the kind called ribbon 
 weed, which to my recollection grew some hundred if 
 not thousand feet in length, so that when tangled up 
 in the heaps, Sam and I found it very difficult to un- 
 ravel. So we concluded to let the ribbons remain until 
 they got more mellow with age, and both of us went 
 down to the pier dock and got into a boat, aboard which 
 we found a long-handled pair of grains, such as are used 
 
 C 153 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 for jabbing flounders. We were not acquainted with the 
 habits of these fish, but as we pushed off the boat into 
 the dock, I chanced to jab the grains into a flounder 
 that lay on the bottom, just sprinkled over with sand, 
 and hauled it into the boat. Profiting by this hint, we 
 were soon able to perceive that the whole bottom of the 
 sea Avas paved, as it were, with flounders, that had a 
 way of covering their bodies lightly with sand, leaving 
 nothing but their eyes visible. Before leaving, we caught 
 eleven of these flounders, weighing from three to seven 
 or more pounds each. There were no ten-hour men in 
 that day, so Sam and I loitered about the beach until 
 near sunset, so that father might not think we left off 
 work much before dark. We then strung our flounders 
 on an old piece of rope we found washed upon the 
 shore, and hung them on a fence stake, I taking one 
 end on my shoulder and Sam the other. Although I 
 favored Sam in adjusting our load, he found it hard 
 work to keep up with me, I being theoldest and, though 
 I say it, just the smartest boy that was ever raised in 
 Narragansett or anywhere else ; so I went ahead and 
 Sam followed in my wake as best he could, stumbling 
 and crying, and every now and then tumbling on all 
 fours, all the way home. We tried to make a bee-line for 
 Rodman's Mill,^^ now Peace Dale, right through Ben 
 Robinson's rocky cow pasture, then across the south- 
 west corner of Jimmy Robinson's sheep pasture, now 
 a part of the Canonchet estate ^'^ belonging to nobody 
 knows who; next over Nat Mumford's pollypod bog, 
 now drained and made into a fine meadow by its owner, 
 Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague; then over the head of Pet- 
 taquamscutt Cove, where old MissMumfordwas mur- 
 
 C 154 ] 
 
TWELFTH BAKING 
 
 dered by nigger Jim, some two centuries ago, and her 
 body sunk in the mud under the water in the cove, 
 where it was found some days after by a fisherman 
 who chanced to pick up a httle ball of knitting-yarn 
 on the marsh, which had fallen from old Miss Mum- 
 ford's pocket when she was struck by the nigger's 
 club because she spoke cross to him the day before, 
 she being knitting as she journeyed along in the even- 
 ing on her way home from neighbor Clark's, on Tower 
 Hill, where she had taken tea. The ball of yarn had 
 unwound as the nigger dragged MissMumford's body 
 along, the unfinished mitten and knitting-needles still 
 remaining with her held by the knitting-sheath, the 
 unbroken thread thus affording a clue to the exact spot 
 where she was sunk and weighed down with stones in 
 the mud. From thence we struck across a corner of the 
 Clark farm to the Bowler lot, or Hill pasture, some fifty 
 or more rods south of Dorothy's Hollow, where old 
 Aunt Dorothy, the Indian squaw, got lost and perished 
 under a snow-bank in the great snowstorm of 1780, 
 and half as many rods or more east of where the Tower 
 Hill house now stands, and past the old tumble-down 
 hovel where the old crazy Frenchman then lived, who 
 was thought, from his martial bearing and other cir- 
 cumstances, to have been an officer in Bonaparte's 
 army, and so on by the crying bog in Kit Robinson's 
 ground at the head of the Hill pasture brook, where the 
 Indian squaw murdered and buried her two little chil- 
 dren, and where her ghost used to be seen and heard 
 every stormy night when I was a boy, in the near neigh- 
 borhood of where their bones lay, wringing her hands 
 and weeping bitterly. From thence we turned a litde 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 to the right and struck the old Tower Hill post-road, 
 over which old Ben Franklin used to pass on horseback 
 twice a year on his way to and from Boston and Phila- 
 delphia, just opposite the Major Jeremy Niles house, 
 who, if I remember rightly, was the last of the old 
 Narragansett gentry I ever remember to have seen rid- 
 ing on horseback in a scarlet coat, with a sword by his 
 side and amounted black servant behind him. It was at 
 this point we met Jimmy Robinson, just as he was about 
 to turn, with his new-fangled carriage and all, into 
 the Pint Judy drift- way . I shall never forget it, because 
 of the circumstance that he stopped his horses, and 
 asking Sam what he was crying about; the little, sniv- 
 eling scamp laid all the blame on me, and he said he 
 was crying " 'cos Tommy made him walk so fast ! " 
 If it were not that I know my impatient readers are 
 dying to hear the conclusion of Cat Story No. 2,1 would 
 just narrate in a forty to sixty column parenthesis, how, 
 when I first began to manufacture, I used to carry for 
 years and years wool-rolls about the country to be 
 spun on hand -wheels, then bring the yarn home and 
 carry it to old Rit Perry to be scoured, and then again 
 carry the yarn to Asa Stedman's^^ to be colored ; then 
 again carry the yarn all about the country to be wove 
 in hand -looms, and then again bring the cloth home, 
 and all this done on liorseback. How many thousands 
 upon thousands of miles I have ridden in that way with 
 bundles of rolls and yarn on each side and before me, 
 through sunshine, rain, snow, and storm, over bogs, 
 stone walls, rocks, swamps, and the devil knows what 
 — it would be hard to tell. But readers may get some 
 idea of the distance by supposing me to start on the de- 
 C 156] 
 
TWELFTH BAKING 
 
 gree of latitude nearest Rhode Island and then follow 
 in succession every parallel degree round and round 
 the outside of the world to the North Pole. Then pitch 
 into Symmes' Hole and follow every corresponding 
 degree round and round on the inside of the world, 
 going south, until I reached the South Pole, and then 
 again out and round and round in succession every 
 parallel degree, going north, on the outside, until I 
 reached the Benny Rodman Mill in South Kingstown, 
 which has always been held to be the centre of Ancient 
 Atlantis, the former summer home of the gods. It is 
 truly said that practice makes perfect, which was abun- 
 dantly exemplified in my horsemanship in those days. 
 To compare me with any modern circus-rider would 
 be simply like comparing Hyperion to a Satyr. 
 
 When once mounted, which I used to do by a spring 
 from the ground, no horse could throw me off" any more 
 than he could throw a fly. I have known my horse to 
 shake from his back and sides a dozen or less horse- 
 flies without disturbing me in the least. The late Hon. 
 Wilkins Updike, of Little Rest, that prince of wit, 
 geniality, and good fellowship, used to relate at the 
 Joe Runnell's Club, how he passed me one Sunday on 
 his return from a baptizing in Saucatucket river (the 
 Indian for dead man's brook), mounted and giving les- 
 sons in dancing to my Narragansett pacer on top of a 
 wide-spreading shrub oak bramble-bush. But to return 
 from this brief digression. As I was just saying, old 
 Comstock, who used to peddle Yankee notions out of 
 his horse-cart, happened to bring up one night at Joe 
 Runnell's, in Little Rest, where he put up his horse, 
 got his supper, and then seated himself in the old arm- 
 C 157 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 chair for the evening, that stood by the blazing oak-wood 
 fire in the north-west corner of the great-room. Soon 
 after Comstock was seated, 'Lisha Garner, before men- 
 tioned, came in, soon followed by Cook, French's jour- 
 neyman hatter. Next to Cook came lawyer John Haga- 
 dorn, who, with Garner, was also a member of the 
 Little Rest club of good fellows. Hagadorn had emi- 
 grated from Rhinebeck, in New York State, and set- 
 tled on Little Rest, his sister having married Asa Pot- 
 ter, an elder brother of the Hon. Elisha R. Potter, whose 
 children were Maria, who married Thomas R. Wells ; 
 Eliza, who married Thomas S. Taylor; Julia, who 
 married Christopher Comstock, ^^ all of whom resided 
 on Little Rest, and Asa, who married a daughter of 
 Governor Thurston, of Hopkinton City. The sisters 
 were all most estimable women, and as for Asa — why, 
 if he is not in Heaven, then I don't believe there are any 
 good folks there. He was for some years Secretary of 
 State in Rhode Island, and afterwards cashier of a bank 
 in New York, and later in life he received a handsome 
 salary from a prominent insurance company in New 
 York, on condition that he would sit a few hours daily 
 in the reception room to entertain customers waiting for 
 their turn to be served. Asa Potter was an uncommonly 
 amiable man, and such was the suavity of his manners 
 that he came to be spoken of as the "Chesterfield of 
 Kingston." In no instance, save one, which I will re- 
 late, did I ever know him to do or say anything that 
 could in the slightest degree offend. To the late Wil- 
 liam French, of Little Rest, belongs the honor of first 
 inaugurating any movement in Washington county for 
 the placing of agriculture, that greatest and best of aU 
 C 158 ] 
 
TWELFTH BAKING 
 
 human institutions or occupations, on a scientific basis. 
 The small beginning made by Bill French has grown 
 into such grand proportions that the South County Agri- 
 cultural Society now stands second to no other in this 
 country. In fact, I think it must be generally conceded 
 that the recent able and suggestive address of its hon- 
 ored president, Rowland Hazard, of South KingstOM^n 
 (not Providence, ^^ as would be claimed by some envious 
 city, merely because he burrows with his family in that 
 outlandish village a few of the coldest months of the 
 year) , is the best thing of the kind that was ever deliv- 
 ered, either in America or Europe — especially that part 
 of it where so fine a distinction is drawn between edu- 
 cation and learning, as the latter is now practiced in our 
 common, parrot-like schools and colleges. I take pride 
 in informing my readers that the writer of these gos- 
 siping papers is uncle to a nephew of that name, which 
 no doubt accounts for the excellence of the address of 
 the nephew of his uncle. But to cut a long story short, 
 I will say that I do not remember the exact day when 
 Asa Potter and I went to the Court-house in Kings- 
 ton to be present at a discussion germane to the sub- 
 ject of farming. The meeting, of course, was presided 
 over by Mr. William French, who, in an interesting 
 address, raised some questions that were very modestly 
 controverted by Asa, who quoted Liebig in support 
 of his views. "Liebig," replied the President, "who 
 in thunder is Liebig? " Upon this Asa blushed full a 
 foot above the tips of his ears and seemed threatened 
 with convulsions, whereupon I assisted him as quickly 
 as possible out of the court-chamber down the stair- 
 way, occasionally patting him on the back to prevent 
 
 C 159 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 his strangling until he got fairly out of doors, when the 
 sufferer exploded. 
 
 Asa Potter, the father of Asa, lived in the large, red, 
 gambrel-roof house that still stands at the south-west 
 corner of theroad leading south from Kingston, directly- 
 opposite to where another old Potter house used to stand 
 since my memory, that was occupied for a long time 
 by Samuel Coy, a journeyman saddler, who worked 
 for John Nichols, — and who was an active member 
 of the Little Rest Club, — and by Stephen Greene, 
 the baker, whose gingerbread ought to have been, if 
 peradventure it was not, famed throughout the world. 
 Don't I remember it! Baked in fluted cards some eight 
 inches square. Ninepence for a whole card and four- 
 pence-half-penny for half a card ! Oh, how unlike the 
 vile stuff now sold at bakers' and restaurants — molded 
 in little toad- stool-shaped patties, made of sour flour, 
 rancid grease butter, and spoiled lard, disguised with 
 a thousand poisonous compounds, and only half baked 
 at that ! Whew ! It raises my gorge to think of the vile 
 stuff. It used to be thought that old Stephen Greene had 
 possessed himself by some occult means, or magic arts, 
 of the recipe for making gingerbread that was used by 
 the purveyors of the gods and goddesses, who in for- 
 mer times reveled on the delicious ambrosia jonny-cake 
 and the other good things to be found nowhere else in 
 either world, except in that part of the Ancient Atlantis 
 now known as Newport and Washington counties, of 
 which Narragansett was always the very pink and 
 posy. That Greene may have had such a recipe is ren- 
 dered the more probable from the fact that Jemima 
 Wilkinson, who then, and until the date of modern 
 L l6o 1 
 
TWELFTH BAKING 
 
 spiritualism, was the greatest sibyl or spirit medium 
 in America, [not excepting Old Stover, of Tiverton, 
 Sylvia Tory Art, the colored witch of the Ministerial 
 woods in South Kingstown, the witches and wizards 
 that were drowned and pressed to death in Salem, or 
 the four Quakers who were hung by the wicked Puri- 
 tans on Boston Common] had then been for some years 
 an occupant of old Judge William Potter's immense 
 house called the Old Abbey, that stood about a mile 
 from Greene's bakery on the east side of the road lead- 
 ing north from Little Rest. It is true there was a baker 
 in Grinnage called Cracker Brown, who claimed to 
 rival Greene in the making of gingerbread. Brown's 
 bread undoubtedly sufficed to tickle the leatherish pal- 
 ates of the outside barbarians of that region, but it was 
 no more to be compared to Stephen Greene's ginger- 
 bread than the semi- Ambrosia, manufactured at the 
 old Forge Mill, but recently so much cracked about by 
 Grinnager, is to be compared with the genuine article 
 that used to be turned out at Mumford's Mill in South 
 Kingstown or Hammond's Mill in North Kingstown. 
 I cannot call to mind seeing John Hagadorn more 
 than once, which must have been at Charles Barker's, 
 who kept tavern in the house that I think still stands on 
 the south side of the road nearly opposite John Nich- 
 ols' saddlery shop, and a little west of the house occu- 
 pied by Levi Totten, who was a very efficient officer 
 in the American army during the Revolution and 
 a good lawyer, although in pleading, owing to some 
 affection of the lungs or throat, he was always obliged 
 to put in a couple of coughs and twice as many hems 
 and haws between every two words. I don't feel sure 
 Z 161 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 whether it was Levi Totten, Lawyer Bourns, or Solici- 
 tor Joe Aplin, who, on occasion of Judge Howell mak- 
 ing some cutting remarks in a case in which they were 
 opposing counsel, took Howell's hat from oflf the court- 
 room table, and wrote "Damned Scoundrel" inside 
 it. Howell observed the motion, but said nothing until 
 he had finished his argument, upon which he took the 
 hat in his hand, and glancing into it, addressed the 
 bench: "May it please your honors, I claim the pro- 
 tection of the court. Some gentleman has written his 
 name in my hat ! ' ' 
 
 I disremember the exact time when I happened into 
 Barker's one evening, just as the lawyers returned 
 from court, when one of them — I think Nathan F. 
 Dixon, of Pawcatuck bridge — opened the kitchen 
 door and called out, "Boot Jack! " Shortly after, a 
 dozen -year-old boy, with a shining black face, entered 
 the room, and immediately straddled Dixon's extended 
 right leg, so that he could take the lawyer's boot firmly 
 between his legs. Then, stooping well forward, the boy 
 grasped the heel with both hands, whereupon Dixon 
 applied his left foot to the posterior or more rounded 
 nether parts of Boot Jack, and with a vigorous push, 
 shot both Jack and the boot to the other side of the 
 room. This operation was repeated until all the law- 
 yers present were unbooted. 
 
 Charles Barker had a big boy named Charles, after 
 his father, whom I used to know well. He and Boot 
 Jack got into a fight one day, in which the black boy 
 got the advantage ; so Charles, to get even with him, 
 rigged out a shingle wind-mill, with a little trip-ham- 
 mer attached to it, on the inside of the boarding, just 
 L 162 ] 
 
TWELFTH BAKING 
 
 over the boy's head, and fixed it up in the gable of the 
 dark cock-loft where Boot Jack slept, in the meantime 
 setting a long fishing-pole against the mill on the out- 
 side to keep it still until the proper time. After all had 
 gone to bed and to sleep, Charles stepped out of the back 
 door and removed the fishing-pole, vi^hereupon the mill 
 began to fly around and set the trip-hammer going. 
 Boot Jack, suddenly awakening and hearing the dread- 
 ful clatter over his head, made one leap to the ladder 
 leading to and from the cock-loft and pitched head- 
 foremost into the entry below, right opposite an open 
 bedroom door, where a Providence county lawyer 
 had got possession of a bed and then kept it for him- 
 self alone, in an overcrowded house, under the plea, 
 real or feigned, that he had got the itch. "Who the 
 hell are you?" cried the conscience-stricken lawyer, 
 as he got a dim view of the object on the floor. ' ' I am 
 Boot Jack," stuttered out the trembling boy. "What 
 brought you here in such a damned hurry?" queried 
 he with the Scotch fiddle. "The Devil is up in the 
 cock-loft," faltered out the black boy. "How did he 
 look? " said the Providence county lawyer, scratching 
 himself fit to kill. "Idunno," said Boot Jack. "You 
 dunno," repeated he with the itch; "didn't you see 
 him ? " "I did n't see him, ' ' replied the terrified boy, 
 "but I heard him whetting his teeth! " Like all other 
 members of the Little Rest club of good fellows, Haga- 
 dorn w^as fond of passing oflf practical jokes. One day 
 he was accosted in the street on Little Rest by a 
 wooden nutmeg agent for the sale of a patent cheese 
 press, which he wanted Hagadorn to buy. Hagadorn 
 told him that he did not want to buy a press himself, 
 • C 163 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 but that he heard Mr. Turkle, "who lives in that 
 house you see," said he, "down on the plain, say the 
 other day that his cheese press had ' gin out ' and he 
 should like to get a new one." Now the real name of 
 the farmer Hagadorn pointed out was John Lamming, 
 that of Turkle being a highly offensive nick-name that 
 had been put up on Lamming because of his being 
 addicted to digging ditches in a bog meadow that was 
 on his farm. So[down went the cheese-press man to the 
 house designated, and knocked at the kitchen door, 
 where the family happened to be at dinner. The host 
 himself , a stout built six-footer, opened the door, where- 
 upon the polite vender of cheese presses queried to 
 know whether he had the pleasure of beholding Mr. 
 Turkle. " I '11 Turkle you ! ' ' roared the enraged farmer, 
 as he took an inch-and-a-half raw cow-hide whip from 
 over the door and proceeded to lather the poor agent 
 within an inch of his life, ere he relaxed his grip on 
 his collar. The disappointed man, groaning with pain, 
 managed to get into his horse-cart and drive back to 
 Little Rest, where he was told by Joe Runnells, his 
 host, whilst settling his bill, that the man who lived 
 in the house on the plain, who had so unmercifully 
 flogged him, was named Lamming. "I was told," 
 said he, " by a beanpole-looking fellow I saw over yon- 
 der, that his name was Turkle, but whether it be Tur- 
 kle, or Lamming, if I ever live to get away and you 
 ever catch me within ten miles of this cursed place 
 again, I will give him leave to lam my soul out of my 
 body." Hence the origin of the slang word "lam- 
 ming ' ' for flogging. I had like to have forgot to mention 
 Old Sylvester Hazard, who used to live in the house 
 [ 164 3 
 
TWELFTH BAKING 
 
 formerly owned and occupied by Judge Clark, that 
 stood on the east side of the road running south, nearly 
 opposite old Storer's house, before spoken of. Sylvester 
 was a character. One day he got his acre-and-a-half 
 lot of hay all nicely made and raked into windrows, 
 ready to draw together and stack, when there came 
 up a sudden thunder-shower, such as, when I was a 
 boy, most always came every afternoon in the week in 
 mowing time, except Sunday, and wet the windrows 
 through. Next day Sylvester got his hay dry again and 
 raked into windrows ready to draw and stack, when 
 up came another shower and soaked it again, until it 
 was as wet as a drowned rat. On the next day, after 
 a deal of turning and shaking with pitchforks, the hay 
 was dried for the fourth time and windrowed, when a 
 white cap on a black cloud was seen rapidly approach- 
 ing from the north-west. Sylvester's patience now gave 
 out, and swearing that he would get even with the 
 thunder-cloud, he started on the run to the house and 
 came back in like manner with a fire-brand in his hand 
 and set fire to every windrow of hay, when all was 
 burned to ashes before the rain began to fall. Sylvester 
 had a younger brother named John, between whom 
 and himself a coolness had existed for many years, so 
 intense that they never spoke to each other. Old Jimmy 
 Helme, who delighted in making peace among his 
 neighbors, had often sought to reconcile the brothers, 
 but without effect. One day as Jimmy was standing at 
 the Four Corners with Sylvester, he saw John com- 
 ing along on the other side. "Now," said Jimmy, 
 ' ' do speak to John, and I know he will speak to you. ' ' 
 "I would do so, Mr. Helme, to oblige you," said Syl- 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 vester,"but I know he won't speak to me! " "Well, 
 now," rejoined Jimmy, "do just try and see." So 
 when John got opposite to where they stood, Sylvester 
 halloaed across the street, "John! " John stopped, and 
 Sylvester continued, "When are you going to bring 
 home that iron bar you stole from me, you thief?" 
 Without saying a word John passed on. "There, Mr. 
 Helme," said Sylvester, "I told you it would be no 
 use!" 
 
 When on his death-bed, Sylvester relented and sent 
 for his brother John. When John came to his bed-side, 
 Sylvester told him he would like to make up with 
 him before he died, to which John readily assented, 
 whereupon they shook hands and exchanged many 
 friendly greetings. The interview lasted for an hour or 
 more, when John shook his brother's hand, bidding him 
 an affectionate good-bye. Just as John was closing the 
 door behind him, Sylvester called him back and said, 
 "Now, John, we are good friends, ain't we, just as if 
 nothing had ever happened?" "Yes, brother Sylves- 
 ter," replied John, "that is just as I feel." "Just so," 
 said Sylvester, "but remember, John, this is only in 
 case I don't get well again. If I do, why then we are to 
 be j ust as we were before. " " Yes, brother Sylvester, ' ' 
 said John, " that is just as I understand it, and should 
 have said so before, only I did n't think there was any 
 chance of your ever leaving your bed again alive." 
 Sylvester Hazard belonged to the strong-willed, odd 
 branch of the Hazard family. He was rather litigious, 
 and his daughter used to say that she could always tell 
 when her father got his case in court, for then he came 
 home cross and chop-fallen, whilst in case he lost it, he 
 
 L 166 2 
 
TWELFTH BAKING 
 
 would be in the best of spirits, thinking how he could 
 best take hold of his opponents again. He was cousin to 
 George and Simeon. George had a capital pear tree in 
 his big pasture that tradition held was planted by the 
 Goddess Pomona a long time ago, when Atlantis, as 
 before said, was the delightful summer residence of 
 the gods. He kept nothing but bulls on his premises, 
 thirteen in number, because he used to say, he liked 
 to hear them roar, and besides that they kept the boys 
 from stealing his pears. 
 
 Simeon, his brother, was equally given to horses, 
 of which he kept nine, and was all the time quarrel- 
 ing with his wife because she would insist upon keep- 
 ing a cow, to eat up the feed, as he said, from his 
 horses. Simeon had four sons, whom he let grow up 
 without education, because, as their father said, they 
 knew as much as the Devil by nature, and if he sent 
 them to school, they would outwit him. When Sim, 
 the oldest son, reached the age of twenty-one he took 
 it into his head to attend old Clarke Rodman's, the 
 Quaker preacher school in Newport. In the morning 
 Clarke named the letters of the alphabet to Simeon 
 from A to Z, and in the afternoon called up his big 
 pupil to say them in rotation himself. "B," said Sim 
 — "Not right," said the master; "try again." Here 
 Sim paused and scratched both sides of his head. ' ' B, " 
 again said he, with renewed energy. "Not right," 
 said Clarke. "Then," rejoined Sim, "the book is 
 wrong, or you told me a d — d lie this morning," upon 
 which he threw down his spelling-book and rushed 
 out of the school-house — never to enter such an in- 
 stitution again. I knew Sim well. He was called the 
 C 167 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Narragansett Lawyer, because of his acuteness.^* I 
 find, on looking back, that I have been gossiping so long 
 that I have not room to finish Cat Story No. 2 in this 
 paper, and must defer it until the next, after which 
 I propose to tell how it was that Phillis, my grand- 
 father's never-to-be-praised-enough colored cook, came 
 to be the remote cause of the French Revolution, and 
 the death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, as I 
 think I have hinted somewhere, once or twice before. 
 
 [ 168 :} 
 
Thirteenth Baking 
 
 AS I gave my readers some reason to hope in my 
 ,xjL last chapter, I fully intended to finish up the re- 
 markable Cat Story No. 2 in this paper, and might have 
 done so, had it not been that John Hazard Watson, of 
 Howard street, Newport (who has a cabinet of old-time 
 Rhode Island relics and curiosities in his house worthy 
 the attention of the Rhode Island Historical Society), 
 has since then placed in my hands an ancient dog- 
 eared wood-printed, brown paper covered book, enti- 
 tled "The Voluntary Confession of Thomas Mount," 
 on the last fly leaf of which is written, in big scrawl- 
 ing letters, ' ' September the 2 day a.d. , 1792, Stephen 
 Champlin Book and hand de bout Dis Book Sa. De." 
 In passing I may just here say in parenthesis that 
 Mr. Watson is descended by the mother's side from 
 "Stout" Jeffrey Hazard (hence his classical turn of 
 mind), who Hfted and carried some rods the blue 
 stone^^ weighing sixteen hundred and twenty pounds 
 that now lies in front. of Rowland Hazard's house at 
 Peace Dale, which Jeffi-ey (or more properly Geofirey) 
 had a sister, who married a Wilcox, who used to take a 
 full cider barrel by the chines and lifting it aloft take a 
 drink at the bung. The sight of this book reminded me 
 that I had forgot to mention in my previous reminis- 
 cences the Little Rest jail, where Mount was for some 
 time imprisoned. Although he was for a part of the 
 time pending his execution manacled and confined in 
 the Newport jail, where I think from what Mr. Wat- 
 son informs me the iron fetters may still be found — 
 
 C 169 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 unless some public defaulter has sold them to some 
 junk-dealer or blacksmith. Mount was perhaps the 
 most noted house and jail breaker in all the old thir- 
 teen states, having made his way into many scores of 
 shops and houses and out of nearly every prison in 
 North America, until he got into the Little Rest jail, 
 which being built mostly of Narragansett white oak 
 (the best and soundest ship timber in the world, not ex- 
 cepting the live oak of Georgia, and teak-wood of Hin- 
 doostan), and lined on the inside with Spanish hoop, 
 well nailed with wrought shingle nails faithfully made 
 by Nailer Tom Hazard, he found it impossible to per- 
 forate, as the unhappy man feelingly laments in his last 
 confession.lt seems by Mount's story, that he was born 
 of reputable parents (Samuel Mount and Mary Dobbs) 
 in Middletown, New Jersey, from whence his parents 
 removed to New York, when he was about five years 
 old. Mount says he began his career of crime in that 
 city ; first by playing truant from school, robbing or- 
 chards, &c. , up to the time he was eleven years of age, 
 when he ran away and shipped with Captain Ham- 
 mond for Antigua. After a while he returned and en- 
 listed in the American army, but deserted at Valley 
 Forge and joined the British at Philadelphia, from 
 whence he went with the red coats across the ferries 
 to New York — where he engaged in house-breaking 
 on a pretty large scale. I pass by a host of narratives 
 of thefts, robberies, house and jail breakings, related 
 by Mount, until his arrival in Newport, when he al- 
 most immediately, in company with one Kelley, stole 
 
 a pair of silver buckles from Mr. , a Jew, and also 
 
 three or four silk handkerchiefs from Mr. Wickham, 
 
 C 170 ] 
 
THIRTEENTH BAKING 
 
 whose store they set out to break into, but were disap- 
 pointed. After this Mount committed many depreda- 
 tions in Massachusetts and Connecticut, until he fell in 
 at Voluntown with one James Williams, of whom he 
 relates that he told him he was going to Providence to 
 get on board Mr. Brown's Indiaman. ' ' I asked him to 
 go with me the way of Stonington, and he consented. 
 So Williams, Kelley, and I set off to W^illiam Stan- 
 ton's, where we turned Kelley off, telling him that two 
 might keep a secret, but three could not. Then Wil- 
 liams, Stanton, and I set off for Hopkinton with the in- 
 tention to break a store, but did not succeed; but Wil- 
 liams and Stanton took a dozen pairs of stockings off a 
 fence. Upon our return to Stanton's, I held the horses 
 at the bridge whilst Williams and Stanton broke open 
 a mill and took all the meal and corn they could find 
 and we carried it to Stanton's house. Stanton next day 
 took some of the corn to Rowse Babcock's for rum. 
 Next night, Stanton, Williams, and I set off to break 
 into Joseph Potter's store. I broke open a mill and took 
 a crowbar out of it, and went to the door and broke it, 
 and we all three went in, I first and they following. 
 Being most forward in this business, I lighted a candle 
 and handed down the goods, about seven dollars worth, 
 and some money, two or three dollars, and carried them 
 to Stanton's house, where we divided them into three 
 parts, and cast lots. Williams and I took our shares. 
 After giving Stanton out of my share eight or nine 
 pounds worth of goods for a mare, and hiding the goods 
 under two corn sacks, and under a barn about five miles 
 from Stanton's house, we started out for Voluntown, 
 where we were apprehended and brought back to Hop- 
 
 C 171 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 kinton, where Stanton, I, and my wife were tried for 
 breaking open the mill. Stanton's wife and Williams 
 were admitted as State's evidence. Accordingly I was 
 sentenced to receive twenty lashes, and my wife ten 
 (though she was innocent). I paid the fine by giving 
 part of my clothes ; then committed to Newport jail, 
 and tried for breaking Potter's shop, found guilty, and 
 received the sentence of death — and the Lord have 
 mercy upon me." Mount was hanged on the north 
 side of the road leading west from Little Rest, on a 
 plain just beyond a little swale or brook at the foot of 
 the hill on land now belonging to Hon. Nathaniel Peck- 
 ham. Before being swung off he made a good dying 
 confession, which occupies several pages ; closing with 
 asking all good people to pray for him, for, said he, "I 
 am wicked ; and there are manv others in the United 
 States perhaps as wicked as myself ; ' ' which brings to 
 my mind Sally Schooner's open confession in meeting 
 previous to her being admitted a member of the New 
 Light Church at Coon's Mill (now Wakefield), in which 
 she acknowledged before the minister and brethren and 
 sisters assembled, that she supposed "she had been 
 about as poor a miserable, harlotry, thievish, good- 
 for-nothing tittle-tattling a body as ever lived in South 
 Kingstown, but that she nevertheless humbly trusted 
 she was an average lot of the church." So far as I have 
 learned, I think it may have been Elder Northup or 
 someother minister of one of the numerous out-branch- 
 ing sects of the Baptist persuasion, who performed the 
 last sacred duties for Mount. The reverend gentleman's 
 remarks on the occasion were generally held to be sin- 
 gularly appropriate and highly consolatory to the crim- 
 
 C 172 ;] 
 
THIRTEENTH BAKING 
 
 inal, who, he declared, having repented and made a 
 good confession before God's appointed minister, would 
 doubtless be ushered into immediate glory as soon as 
 the soul left the body, closing with a strong appeal to 
 all present to go and do likewise with the sainted man 
 about to suffer for Christ's sake and the good of his fel- 
 low creatures, that they, too, might reap his reward, 
 and like him enter at once into the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 As the Elder closed his eloquent discourse, most, 
 or all present, shed tears, excepting old Sim Hazard, 
 who was heard to mutter to himself, that if his ' ' get- 
 ting into Heaven turned upon his becoming a d — d 
 thief, then they might set him down as one bound for 
 hell ! " I used to hear a good deal of Elder Northup in 
 my younger days. He was somewhat of the itinerant 
 order of preachers, and passed from church to church 
 throughout the state, wherever any of the faithful were 
 to be found. It used to be told how, when once in his 
 travels, he brought up for the night at Parson Ammi- 
 don's, in the north-west corner of the state, Massa- 
 chusetts being on the north and Connecticut on the 
 west — ^just the point where the Devil would be most 
 likely to raid upon Rhode Island, should he incline 
 that way. 
 
 It was late in November, and the evenings quite 
 lengthy, and to beguile the tediousness of the time, the 
 two parsons sat down to a half-peck of Rhode Island 
 greenings (the best apples in the world), a big chunk 
 of sage cheese, and a yaller two-quart pitcher of cider, 
 and entered into a discussion regarding the exact Scrip- 
 tural meaning of the word ' ' Tophet, ' ' as used in the 
 Bible. Elder Northup, who was of a practical-matter- 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 of- fact turn of mind, argued that it was simply as rep- 
 resented in Scripture, a continuous fire kept up night 
 and day outside of the gates of Jerusalem, in which 
 were consumed the dead carcasses of animals and other 
 offal and filth of the city. Elder Ammidon fully agreed 
 with his brother in this version of the word so far as 
 the Mosaic dispensation was concerned, which he said 
 was merely typical of the most merciful dispensation 
 that was to come when ' ' old things ^vere to pass away 
 and all things to become new," wherein the refining 
 or soul-cleansing process is likened by Malachi to a 
 preparation ' ' like fuller's soap ' ' ! The argument wax- 
 ing warm, required the replenishing of the two-quart 
 pitcher, and black Joe was summoned from the kitchen 
 to fill it from the cask in the cellar. Now it so happened 
 that just before night a drover had arrived in the vil- 
 lage from Pomfret in Connecticut with a small flock 
 of sheep, which he had, with the owner's consent, 
 turned into Parson Ammidon's lot, adjoining the rear 
 of his house. Among the sheep was a monstrous big, 
 shaggy-wooled black ram with a pair of double and 
 twisted horns as big round at the base as a stovepipe. 
 The outside cellar door being open, the old ram found 
 his way do^^'n to a lot of cabbages that were partially 
 buried in a dark recess of the cellar, shortly after which 
 the door was closed on him so that he had no wav of 
 egress, had he felt disposed to leave. With pitcher in 
 one hand and a dipped farthing candle in the other, 
 Joe proceeded down cellar to draw the cider, as told. 
 And just here the mention of a dipped candle brings 
 to my mind the origin of the slang phrase, "dipping 
 the candle " (so applicable to handlers of other people's 
 
 C 174 ] 
 
THIRTEENTH BAKING 
 
 money now-a-days), which was after this wise: A 
 Connecticut militia regiment was quartered for some 
 time during the Revolutionary War, near the sea-shore 
 in Narragansett. One Brown, a corporal, belonging to 
 the regiment, was constantly teasing his Captain to ob- 
 tain some office for him. One day the Captain informed 
 Brown that he had obtained the promise of an office for 
 him from the Colonel, if he wanted it — but it was one 
 that he could in no way make a farthing out of, his duty 
 being simply to count out the candles to the different 
 companies under inspection. Brown said in reply that 
 all he wanted was an office, he did not care what. So 
 Brown was given the office, shortly after which his Cap- 
 tain observed that he was smarting up in his dress and 
 giving other signs of increased prosperity. Much sur- 
 prised, the Captain took Brown aside one day and told 
 him if he would reveal to him the secret of his increased 
 and increasing wealth, he would not take advantage 
 of his confidence, but would leave him to perform his 
 duties as he had hitherto done. On this assurance Cor- 
 poral Brown invited his Captain to accompany him into 
 a cellar near by, where he showed him a big kettle of 
 warm water and a whole box of candles (supplied him 
 for distribution) strung on candle rods — which, before 
 distributing, he was accustomed to dip into the warm 
 water a reasonable time and skim the melted tallow from 
 the surface. The officer honorably kept the Corporal's 
 secret inviolate until the disbanding of the regiment at 
 the close of the war. 
 
 Speaking of the Connecticut regiment makes me 
 think of its Colonel being invited to a tea party at old 
 Sylvester Robinson's, who then owned and lived on 
 
 C 175 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 the Sprague estate now called Canonchet, near Narra- 
 gansett Pier. It was the custom in good society at that 
 period for guests to put their teaspoon into the cup 
 when they were not disposed for another cup of tea (the 
 rule being three cups at farthest), and into the saucer 
 when they were. Coming from Connecticut, the Colo- 
 nel, of course, knew but little of polite usages, and 
 uniformly left his spoon in the saucer when the cup 
 was drank. On every occasion of this kind a colored 
 man waiter seized the cup and saucer and carried them 
 to Mrs. Robinson to be again replenished. The Colo- 
 nel had observed that all the other guests at table h^d 
 sat for some time with empty cups before them, so he 
 thought that good manners required that he, too, should 
 drink the last drop and leave his the same. The weather 
 was extremely hot, and the poor discomfited man of war 
 had wrung the sweat of his face out of both his napkin 
 and handkerchief more than once, until driven to des- 
 peration, when his latest cup of tea was drank, and his 
 satyrical dusky tormentor reachedrout his hand to take 
 it again, the Colonel seized the saucer with his left hand, 
 and brandishing his right fist, exclaimed, "You touch 
 that cup again, you infernal nigger, and I '11 crack your 
 damned skull ! " To return. 
 
 Scarcely had Parson Ammidon's black boy reached 
 the bottom of the cellar stairs, when he heard a craunch- 
 ing-like noise in the farther dark corner, and looking 
 that way he saw two balls of fire. Horror-stricken, Joe 
 returned to his master and told him the Devil was 
 down cellar eating up the cabbages. ' ' Nonsense, ' ' said 
 the Elder, as he proceeded that way to reconnoitre. 
 Scarcely, however, had he descended the stairs half- 
 
 C 176 ] 
 
THIRTEENTH BAKING 
 
 way before he, too, became terror-stricken, and return- 
 ing quickly, told Elder Northup that he believed on his 
 soul the boy was right, and that the Devil had really 
 got into his cabbage bin. Parson Ammidon now seized 
 the Bible that lay on the table, in his right hand, and 
 taking the dim farthing candle in the other, proceeded 
 down the cellar stairs, followed by his friend, brother 
 Northup. Now, it so happened that Mrs. Ammidon 
 (who was a thrifty housewife) had on that very after- 
 noon finished making her annual modicum of soft 
 soap— which then stood in the cellar, a little to the 
 right of the stairs, in a brimfuU tub that held about 
 two and a half molasses hogsheads. The compound 
 was not boiling hot, exactly, but about the temperature 
 for cooking eggs. Without noticing the surroundings. 
 Elder Ammidon happened to place himself back to, 
 right in front of the tub of hot soap. In a prayerful 
 mood he reverently raised the Good Book high in the 
 air, and bringing it down as he bowed his head, body, 
 and soul in harmony with the motion, he addressed 
 the evil one with the Scriptural exorcism," The Lord 
 rebuke thee, Satan." The old ram interpreting the 
 motion as a challenge for a fight, drew back, and plac- 
 ing his head in position, made a desperate lunge, and 
 hitting the parson with the back of his horns and head 
 about midships, knocked him, together with book and 
 candle, backwards into his wife's tub of soft soap. The 
 immersion might have been serious were it not that 
 the elder being very tall, the back of his head brought 
 up against the farther side of the tub before his nos- 
 trils were entirely submerged in the hot soap. As it 
 was, the unfortunate parson managed to lift his head 
 
 C 177 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 above water (or rather soap), exclaiming in terrified ac- 
 cents, as he was getting rid of what semi-liquid had en- 
 tered his mouth, ' ' Help,0 Lord and Brother Northup, 
 the wicked one has smote me into Tophet ! ' ' 
 
 In his book. Mount reveals the method by which 
 "any man of the least common sense may discover 
 a thief, ' ' which I should like to see applied to some of 
 our railroad, bank, and other corporation thieves."^ He, 
 too, indulges in several pages of poetry like the follow- 
 ing: 
 
 "Thomas Mount it is my name, 
 And to my shame cannot deny ; 
 In New Jersey I was bom, 
 
 And on Little Rest now must die." 
 
 "For robbing of a merchant, I was obliged to scout; 
 For robbing of another man I closely was pursued. 
 And my faithful comrade Lipton was taken on the road ; 
 From thence to Newport gaol, which is the truth of my 
 
 song. 
 To here lie dismal bound down in irons strong." 
 
 Mount alleges in his memoirs that there was a ' ' Flash 
 company ' ' numbering some seventy or eighty individ- 
 uals, extending frorai Nova Scotia to Georgia, estab- 
 lished on the basis of a similar company in London. 
 He gives the' ' Flash ' ' names of more than one hundred 
 words and phrases, and ends the book with a number 
 of "Flash Songs," "A Song Made by a Flash Cove 
 the Evening before his Execution," and "Mount's 
 Flash Song upon himself," beginning: 
 
 " Come ye prigs [thieves] and scamps full bold, 
 I '11 sing you of a lad of fame. 
 Who in New York town once did dwell, 
 And Thomas Mount it is my name. 
 
 • c 178 :i 
 
THIRTEENTH BAKING 
 
 " As I was going out on a tramp, 
 Void of any dread or fear, 
 I was surrounded by the traps [officers of the law] , 
 And to the quod [prison] they did me steer. 
 
 "And when I came into the guaixi 
 Capt. R — ds did me know; 
 Tommy, come tip me the bit, he said," — 
 
 Just at this tantalizing point the lower half of the last 
 leaf in the book is torn in twain, and missing. With 
 the exception of Thomas Mount, I do not remember 
 of but one criminal being hanged from the Little Rest 
 jail. That was Caesar, who was executed a little north- 
 east of the depot of the Providence and Stonington rail- 
 road at Slocum's Corner, on what used to be called in 
 my early days ' ' Caesar's Plain. ' ' ^^ John Hazard Wat- 
 son tells me that a Mr. Brown who lived on the plain 
 between Little Rest and Mumford's Mills had two 
 negroes, named Caesar and Clytus, who owned a fight- 
 ing cock. A white man by the name of Dealing who 
 lived near by also owned a duck-winged game-cock 
 that in a fair fight whipped the negroes' cock. Said 
 they to Dealing, "Your duck-wing has whipped our 
 cock and now we will whip you ! ' ' Ccesar and Clytus 
 then pounded Dealing until they broke his skull, after 
 which they dragged and threw him into Chipuxet 
 river, a mile or more west of Little Rest. He, however, 
 managed to get out, and survived the beating about 
 a year, and then died. Clytus ran away and got clear, 
 but Caesar was apprehended, tried, and hanged on 
 "Caesar's Plain." 
 
 Wm. Carter was hanged for the murder of Jackson 
 about the year 1742, on a little mound in the train- 
 
 C 179 ] . 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 ing lot (so called) that lies between the highway and 
 Pettaquamscutt river, at the foot of Rochester^^ (now 
 Tower Hill). Captain Carter, of Newport, had been 
 shipwrecked on the coast of North Carolina and was 
 traveling home on foot, when he chanced to join Jack- 
 son in Virginia on his way to Boston with a horse pack 
 load of deerskins. They stopped one afternoon at the 
 widow Nash's, who lived on the east side of the road 
 south of a small brook about two miles south and west 
 of Wakefield. Before leaving, Mrs. Nash combed 
 Jackson's hair, and remarked that if he was ever mur- 
 dered, she could identify him by a small round lock of 
 dark hair in his head different in color from the other. 
 In passing over Chimney Hill, the same evening, Carter 
 knocked Jackson from his horse with a stone, and, after 
 killing him,*dragged the body half a mile and shoved 
 it under the ice in Pettaquamscutt Cove, not far from 
 Gooseberry Island, where it was fished up byaman jab- 
 bing with a spear for eels. Carter was apprehended on 
 the Point in Newport and brought to the jail at Roches- 
 ter (or Tower Hill), at which then county seat he was 
 tried, and on Mrs. Nash's and other testimony, con- 
 victed and hanged in gibbets, where the body remained 
 until it dropped piecemeal from the irons to the ground 
 beneath, where I have heard say the soil and verdure 
 were for years after made rank and dark with blood. 
 With the exception of these three murders I do not 
 at present recollect hearing of but one other ever oc- 
 
 * Since these papers appeared in the Journal, my brother Joe has had 
 a permanent stone monument placed on the spot where Jackson was 
 killed, which until then was marked by a stone in the foundation of the 
 wall, on which the figures 1742 were chiseled. 
 
 C 180 ] , 
 
THIRTEENTH BAKING 
 
 curring in South Kingstown. That was the murder by 
 a disappointed lover, who, in a fit of desperation, shot 
 his sweetheart, a Miss Hull, through a window of her 
 father's house, just after she was married to a rival, 
 nearly two centuries ago. The house in which the deed 
 was done stood on the south side of the road (since 
 my remembrance) near the Friends' meeting-house in 
 Matooneck, it being one of the six houses first built 
 between Franklin (now South Ferry) and Pawcatuck 
 Bridge in Westerly. 
 
 C 181 ] 
 
Fourteenth Baking 
 
 I WANT my readers to put my last baking of Rhode 
 Island jonny-cake into parenthesis, it being mainly 
 an off-shoot from the matter in issue, and go back with 
 me to the early part of the twelfth baking, where I first 
 mention the name of John Hagadorn, a member of the 
 club of good fellows, at which point I will again take 
 up the relation of Cat Story No. 2, which remarkable 
 narration I feel in honor obligated and bound to finish 
 before I explain the ' ' wonderful whys and wherefores 
 that caused Phillis, my grandfather's inimitable colored 
 cook, to be the cause of the French Revolution, and the 
 death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. ' ' After John 
 Hagadorn, there came to join the club at "Joe Run- 
 nell's" on that memorable evening no less than five 
 other individual members, whose names I will for the 
 present forbear to give for the reason that each indi- 
 vidual mention of them would recall to my memory 
 such a host of past interesting incidents and anecdotes 
 that it would take a whole Journal and supplement to 
 boot to contain them in print. So after just saying in 
 a short parenthesis that John Hazard Watson, besides 
 loaning me ' ' The Voluntary Confession of Thomas 
 Mount," handed me at the same time for perusal, an 
 ancient sheepskin (with the wool mostly off) covered 
 book of ninety-three pages, written by the prophetess 
 Jemima Wilkinson, whilst she lived at Judge William 
 Potter's big house, called the ' ' old Abbey, ' ' that stood 
 since my remembrance on the east side of the road 
 leading north from Little Rest Hill (now Kingston) and 
 C 182 ] 
 
FOURTEENTH BAKING 
 
 thence to Greenage and still farther in the same direc- 
 tion to parts unknown, the last chapter of which book 
 is entitled, "An Exhortation to the ''United Friends'' 
 everywhere scattered abroad," that being the name of 
 the religious society or fraternity of spiritualists estab- 
 lished by Jemima (whose surname was altered to that 
 of ' ' The Universal Friend " ) , said book being inscribed 
 on the margin of the ninety-second page (which is next 
 to the last page but one), with the name of "Thomas 
 Champlain of South Kingstown, his book, son of 
 Stephen Champlain," I will proceed (as before inti- 
 mated) without further unnecessary delay, to finish up 
 Cat Story No. 2. Shortly after the club assembled, old 
 Comstock used to say he observed 'Lisha Garner wink 
 at Cook, the hatter, both of whom soon after left their 
 seats and went out into the kitchen, where they tarried 
 for half an hour or so and then returned to their places, 
 where they remained after all the other members of the 
 club had gone home. Cook (who was unknown to old 
 Comstock) then entered into a confab with Garner, rel- 
 ative to the object of his visit to Little Rest, represent- 
 ing himself as being commissioned by Billy Gray, the 
 great East India merchant of Boston, to furnish him 
 with one hundred cats, for which he was prepared to 
 pay one dollar each, delivered at Little Rest, not less 
 than one-half to be full-grown cats, and one-half half- 
 grown kittens. Cook explained that Billy Gray wanted 
 the cats to send to the King of the Nicobar Islands in the 
 East Indies, the said islands having become so overrun 
 and infested with rats, that on the occasion of Captain 
 Liestrong (the master of the ' ' Yankee Joker, ' ' one of 
 Gray's Indiamen) happening to call thereon his voyage 
 
 I 183 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 from Canton to Boston by the way of London, and pre- 
 senting the half of a forty pound Narragansett cheese 
 (then the best in all the world) to the King, the Queen 
 Sukarata (who was a lemon-colored lady of great beauty 
 and exquisite taste in all edibles) was so delighted, not 
 to say infatuated, with the all but divine flavor of the 
 luxurious esculent, that for the preservation from the 
 rats of the quarter part of the precious Narragansett 
 cheese that remained after she and the King had fin- 
 ished their supper, Sukarata wrapped it in a snake-skin 
 napkin and placed it, on retiring for the night, in bed 
 between herself and husband, taking especial care to 
 close all the doors and windows to prevent the inroads 
 of the voracious rats. These precautions, however, 
 availed naught, for such was the ambrosial aroma of 
 the incomparable Narragansett luxury, that it impreg- 
 nated the whole atmosphere of the ' ' Great Nicobar ' ' 
 (the chief and largest island of the group), to such an 
 intoxicating degree that every rat within its circuit, be- 
 sides a goodly number from smaller islands beyond, 
 attracted and guided by the delicious fragrance of the 
 Narragansett cheese, hastened with the greatest expe- 
 dition possible to the King's palace, and in an incredible 
 short time obtained entrance into the Queen's chamber, 
 through sundry holes the elder rats gnawed with their 
 strong, long, sharp teeth, and in their eagerness to 
 secure the coveted prize that lay ensconced in the close 
 embrace of the four arms of the King and Queen, 
 actually obliged them to seek safety by their both 
 jumping out of the two-story window of their palatial 
 chamber. 
 
 I will just here relate in parenthesis an anecdote to 
 C 184 ] 
 
FOURTEENTH BAKING 
 
 illustrate the difference between the cheese made now- 
 a-days of skim milk and annato and that which used 
 to be made in the honest days of the olden times. Louis 
 Latham Clarke (the fat Quaker friar before spoken 
 of, who was said to be descended, by the mother'' s side^ 
 from Louis XV of France), while breakfasting at our 
 house in Narragansett, was observed in the act of put- 
 ting butter on his cheese. "Why," said I, "Cousin 
 Louis, what is thee doing to thy cheese?" "Putting 
 that back," said he," that some naughty woman took 
 off." To Lodowick Staunton, of Charlestown, R. L, 
 belongs the honor of the invention of the ingenious 
 method of making cream cheese out of annato and skim 
 milk. When he first carried the golden-looking article 
 to the New York market (some seventy years ago), he 
 told the ignorant Dutchmen of that small town that 
 the reason why his cheese was so golden in color was 
 because it was made from ' ' orange bag cows. ' ' Change 
 the name to "Jersey cows," and a key may be found 
 for the deep orange color of half or more of the cheese 
 and butter now sold in the American market. The 
 Irish and English people abroad have discovered the 
 cheat and now refuse to buy yellow cheese. The Yan- 
 kees are not so cute, and still purchase it because of 
 its rich golden color. They judge it as they do most 
 other edibles, by the eye rather than the palate. After 
 awhile, probably, they will detect the fraud and refuse 
 to buy it, just as the negroes did, formerly, old Cap- 
 tain Fishback's (of New York) cheat in his cargo of 
 salted herring. These, on his arrival at Kingstown, in 
 Jamaica, he split in two and sold the separate halves 
 to the negroes for whole ones. Capt. Fishback's ven- 
 
 I 185 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 ture was so successful that he soon returned to Kings- 
 town with another sloop load of herring, but found 
 that he could not get a negro to buy one of them, they 
 all declaring that they ' ' did not want any more of his 
 one-eyed fish! " 
 
 On Capt. Liestrong representing to the royal pair 
 that there was an animal in America known as the 
 "Tom-Cat," that would soon clear the island of rats, 
 the King commissioned him to purchase and bring to 
 him, on his next voyage to the Indies, one hundred of the 
 invaluable creatures, promising to pay him down, on 
 their delivery in Nicobar, ten thousand roues in gold, 
 and twice that amount one year after, should the cats 
 clear his dominion of the destructive rats as represented 
 by the aforesaid captain. Now, old Comstock, as well 
 as everybody else, knew that ' ' Billy Gray ' ' was one of 
 the two most successful and wealthy merchants in 
 all New England, Lord Timothy Dexter, who laid the 
 foundation of his fortune by sending a schooner load 
 of warming-pans to the tropics, when, on their arrival 
 at Cuba, they were all bought up by the sugar plant- 
 ers, the covers for skimmers and the pans for dippers, 
 at four times their invoice price, being the other. Billy 
 Gray's unparalleled success in business was owing to 
 his prudence, sagacity, industry, integrity, and econ- 
 omy. It was said that w^hilst ' ' Billy Gray ' ' did half the 
 foreign mercantile business of Boston, he still found 
 time to do his household marketing, connected with 
 which the following instructive anecdote used to be told : 
 A spruce young man had recently been hired in one of 
 "Billy Gray's" many departments of business, who, 
 up to the time now specified, had never seen the great 
 C 186 ] 
 
FOURTEENTH BAKING 
 
 merchant, whom he supposed, from his reputed wealth, 
 must be a nabob clothed in the finest and most expen- 
 sive garments, glittering all over with gold and precious 
 stones, and walking with a gait as proud and stately as 
 a peacock. This young man stopped early one morning 
 at the old Boylston street market, where he purchased 
 a turkey, and then looked about to find some negur to 
 carry it home for him, which was situated on his way 
 to his place of business, where he was then going. A 
 plainly dressed man stepped up and asked the ' ' swell ' ' 
 what he would give him to carry his turkey home? 
 "Ninepence," said the spruce-looking cockney. The 
 proposition was accepted, and the two walked down 
 towards State street side by side, the elder carrying the 
 turkey by its legs in one hand. When the young man's 
 domicile in Washington street was reached, the turkey 
 was duly delivered and the ninepence paid as agreed, 
 whereupon the elder of the two returned thanks to the 
 young man , attended with the request that whenever 
 he wanted to pay for carrying a turkey a few blocks on 
 the way he himself was going, to just call on old Billy 
 Gray, and he would be glad of a job by which he could 
 earn ninepence so easily! This may have conveyed 
 a lesson to the young man that he never forgot, but 
 whether it did or not, I know its bare recital made me re- 
 solve never to be ashamed or deterred by the ridicule of 
 sap-headed upstarts, unthinking fools, or contemptible 
 snobs from performing a useful or necessary ' 'job. ' ' In 
 fact, I, soon after hearing the story of old Billy Gray's 
 carrying the turkey in Boston, encountered an occasion 
 that called in a most eminent degree for exemplifying 
 in my conduct the moral it inculcated. It was after this 
 
 C 187 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 wise : I took a freak or fancy (I am not sure which) 
 to lead a white goat from one of my farms on Tower 
 Hill to my Rocky Brook factory. I rode at the time a 
 gray mare. The goat, tied by the horns, led very com- 
 placently until we got within some forty rods of the 
 Peace Dale woolen factory, where he absolutely refused 
 to go farther. What now was I to do ! My maxim 
 through life had been never to set out to do a wrong 
 thing, but when a job was undertaken, never to give it 
 up until accomplished. I had no cart or wagon within 
 reach, neither would my gray mare go in harness even 
 if I had, but I had learned by several experiments before 
 practiced, that all horses without exception, broke or 
 unbroke, will draw kindly by the tail. But then what a 
 ridiculous figure I would cut going through Peace Dale 
 mounted on my gray mare, dragging a big horned 
 Juan Fernandez goat, by her tail ! For a moment or 
 two the thought unmanned me, until I recalled the 
 story of old Billy Gray and the turkey, on which I 
 was at once reassured, and dismounting I tied the ob- 
 stinate goat by its rope tether to the end of my gray 
 mare's long tail. The victory was won. After one or 
 two sittings back with his fore legs abrace, and three 
 or four times as many caracoles in the air, to say 
 nothing of as many tumble-downs, the subdued animal 
 followed quietly in my wake. As I expected, when we 
 three reached Peace Dale, all the boys and gals in the 
 factory rushed to the windows and laughed ready to 
 kill, at me, my gray mare, and the goat at her tail; 
 but most of all at me on her back. I persevered, how- 
 ever, and accomplished what I set out to do. Sally 
 Wilcox, a factory gal, made some varses about it that 
 [ 188 ] 
 
FOURTEENTH BAKING 
 
 were greatly admired. When set to music by old Pedro 
 Sherman, the colored crippled wool-waste picker, and 
 sung with the accompaniment of his fiddle, the effect 
 produced on a South Kingstown audience was mar- 
 velously grand, sometimes making tears to flow from 
 the eyes and noses of all present. I do not remember 
 the whole of the sublime ditty, nor do I know that it 
 was ever printed. I rather think not, as "Pistol-head 
 Tom Hazard" (so called to distinguish him from 
 "Shepherd Tom," and some thirty-five other "Tom 
 Hazards" of the same name) used to say that he 
 "never saw Sal's varses in the Newport Marcury'''' 
 (the only newspaper then ever seen in Narragansett, 
 or hardly anywhere else in America), although his 
 father, " Nailer Tom," had taken the Marcury for 
 thirty years, during the whole of which time, he ' ' Pis- 
 tol Tom," had never failed looking in the right-hand 
 corner of the paper for the little ' ' blackguard varses, ' ' 
 which he said he always got by heart, though he never 
 to his recollection, ever read a line of anything else 
 that was printed in the paper. 
 
 I cannot now recall all the words of Sal's sublime 
 ditty, but I remember the first stanza ran thus — 
 
 ' ' Once upon a time 
 The sun it did shine. 
 And the day was fine, 
 When ' Shepherd Tom ' 
 Come riding from 
 
 His Tower Hill farmy 'O ; 
 With a big white goat. 
 With a shaggy coat. 
 Tied with a rope 
 
 To his gray mare's taily 'O." 
 
 C 189 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 As an offset to Sal's satirical song, and to get even with 
 her, so far as a man can ever get even with a female 
 opponent, for making me the laughing-stock of all the 
 ' ' gals" in South Kingstown, I will just here remark in 
 another parenthesis, without malice prepense, that Sal 
 Wilcox had just graduated into the Peace Dale factory 
 from a twelve by fifteen one-story log cabin in Hard- 
 scrabble, which is a territory bounded on the north and 
 west by the great pond and great swamp, and south 
 and east by "Old Brittain," where she had been 
 accustomed to sleep all her life in a cock-loft, which 
 was reached by a ladder that she used to climb down 
 on backward, which had got her into such a confirmed 
 habit that for six months after her coming to Peace 
 Dale, whenever she was about to descend the factory 
 stairs, she always turned herself clear round, and went 
 down backward as she had always done when going 
 down the ladder from her chamber in the cock-loft. 
 Well was it that this practice had not been taught 
 Sal in her early youth by her minister. Elder Wash- 
 burne, of the *'New Light Church," as a religious 
 ordinance, otherwise she would no doubt have con- 
 scientiously clung to its observance, not only during 
 this life, but probably in the better half of eternity in 
 the next, — on the hke principle, that the more un- 
 seemly you bend and twist the tree, when young and 
 pliable, the more impossible it is to straighten it when 
 it grows to maturity — which principle in the natural 
 growth, whether of the vine or the tree — of the human 
 mind or the body — furnishes the key to explain the 
 tenacity with which the different races of men adhere 
 
 C 190 3 
 
FOURTEENTH BAKING 
 
 to priest and man-made religious creeds and practices 
 they have been taught in childhood. 
 
 Since Sal went to work in the factory, such has been 
 the humanizing, uplifting, and refining effects of the 
 manufacturing business in South Kingstown and else- 
 where, and "common schools " established mainly in 
 consequence thereof, ^^ that Sal Wilcox has become the 
 mother of a daughter who is married to a New York 
 millionaire, with whom she (Sal) now resides, who does 
 her shopping in a two-horse carriage attended by a 
 liveried coachman and footman. Sal Wilcox also has 
 a son^^ by her second husband (from the Green Isle), 
 who is one of the leading men of New York in wealth , 
 morals, religion, fashion, and politics, whose millions 
 have been amassed whilst patriotically serving his 
 father's adopted country, who too sports his four- 
 horse team, in a coach bearing the ancient coat-of- 
 arms of the family, viz.: A lion rampant (with a great 
 swamp red fox's tail attached to its rump and adroitly 
 hidden by the artist between the lion's hind legs), stand- 
 ing erect on a cock-loft ladder with jaws extended 
 at right angles, snarling and showing his long strong 
 teeth, head thrown slightly off its centre in a back- 
 ward direction, with paw reaching upward towards 
 the crest on the helmet argent^ the conceit or device of 
 which is a bag of gold labeled " N. Y, city treasury. ' ' 
 The top of the ladder rests on the bag of gold, whilst 
 the lion stands within the helmet or shield, beneath 
 which the motto is inscribed, in heavily gilded sxvina 
 latina letters, "As we descendo^ so we ascendoy 
 
 In fine, I will close what I have to say about my old 
 
 C 191 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 defamer, Sally Wilcox, by remarking that I do not 
 remember exactly when I heard it whispered that she 
 is in fact the identical proverbial "mother-in-law " of 
 the Journal and newspaper reporters and dime novel- 
 ists of the 19th century. 
 
 I may here also say, in another short parenthesis, 
 that I learn that formerly horses in Spain were always 
 rigged out to draw by the tail, which is found to be 
 the most natural way, requiring but little harness and 
 no expense for breaking. I think if the practice was 
 introduced on canals, it would be of incalculable service 
 in preventing chafing of the breasts of horses, so hurt- 
 ful where the draft is uniform and unrelaxing, besides 
 saving great expense for harnesses. I have several times 
 thought of suggesting the plan to Henry Bergh, the 
 president of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty 
 to Animals, who is confidently believed to be doing 
 a greater humanitarian work than any other man on 
 earth, and should probably have done so before this, 
 were it not that we were somewhat of cronies in earlier 
 life, and both of us head over ears in love with the same 
 girl, the prettiest creature a thousand times told in the 
 whole world. At any rate I know I was in love with 
 her, which may have led me to suspect Bergh of being 
 my rival without adequate cause. Whether he was or 
 not, the knowledge he then acquired of my waggish 
 disposition might dispose him to think I merely meant 
 to pass a joke upon him, which is not a fact, but most 
 decidedly to the contrary, being strongly impressed with 
 the idea that the big, strong stump of the tail of the 
 horse is designed by nature for the animal to exert its 
 strength to the greatest advantage in drawing heavy 
 
 [ 192 ;]. 
 
FOURTEENTH BAKING 
 
 drafts, especially such as like the canal-boat have no 
 giving up, as it were, and therefore tend to heat and 
 chafe the chest of the tow-horses. Then again, what 
 upon earth was the great quantity of hair attached to 
 the whole length and breadth of the horse's tail, if it 
 were not to hitch a rope to? A small quantity on the 
 extreme end would have sufficed just as well to switch 
 off flies ! I observed in passing from Rome to Naples, 
 before a railroad was made over the Pontine marshes, 
 which are a dead level, the traces used were some 
 ten to fifteen feet in length, which arrangement it was 
 held obviated in some measure the heat and chafing 
 caused by a constant never-giving pressure on the chest 
 of the draft-horses. 
 
 As I perceive I have not room to get through with 
 Cat Story No. 2 in this number, I will say a few words 
 on the subject of goats, of which animals I bought fif- 
 teen or twenty, some fifty or more years ago, of Wil- 
 liam Tucker, for the purpose of subduing about 400 
 acres of brush on my farms. William succeeded in 
 delivering the animals on my farm, but no fences or 
 walls, I am confident, could be built that would keep 
 a regular built Juan Fernandez goat, with horns as long 
 as a man's arm, and beards the length of a horse's tail, 
 anywhere within bounds. So agile were the creatures 
 that one of my goats had been seen fighting a dog on 
 the ground from the tip-top of a six-foot inch board 
 fence, and whipping his opponent at that. Before going 
 to work to kill the briars and bushes, as I was led to 
 suppose would be the case, my goats first destroyed 
 most of the apple orchards in the neighborhood, and 
 then peeled all the white-oak saplings for a mile around. 
 
 C ^93 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 The neighbors were too good to shoot them, and as to 
 pounding the varmints, old Wilson Pollock used to say 
 the Devil and all his angels could not do it. The flock 
 increased to over sixty. Occasionally I yarded them to 
 catch a kid to dress. This was always done of a Sun- 
 day, when the boys were all at liberty. It was enough 
 that I gave out word the night before, when every boy 
 within two miles would be on the spot next morning. 
 It generally took some six or eight hours to get the 
 creatures under a shed. The goat is very different in its 
 habits from the sheep, being as the Good Book insinu- 
 ates, simply devilish in some of its propensities ; for in- 
 stance: Some five and twenty or more boys would sur- 
 round the flock and gradually drive them up to the shed . 
 Now sheep under such circumstances, if they broke 
 away at all, would follow one leader and run one way. 
 Not so with my goats. Just as they seemed about to 
 enter the shed, the whole flock would generally pause, 
 take positions, and face about. There were some ten or 
 twelve great he-goats, each one of whom would single 
 out a boy (a small one when convenient) in the semi- 
 circle, and when all were ready, the big he-goats would 
 one and all make a simultaneous charge in every direc- 
 tion, and the next thing that would be distinctly seen of 
 the flock it would be half a mile away, each he-goat 
 tumbling heels over head in its course a boy more or 
 less, big or small. To return. 
 
 As before said, old Comstock was well aware of 
 Billy Gray's wealth and consequent ability to fulfil any 
 contracts entered into by his agents. But, apart from 
 this, he witnessed the passing of one hundred dollars, 
 all in five-dollar bills, from the hand of Cook into that 
 
 C 194 ] 
 
FOURTEENTH BAKING 
 
 of Garner, who he then and there commissioned to 
 purchase the cats. This was in June, and the animals 
 were to be delivered on ' ' Little Rest ' ' on the first of 
 August or any time previous thereto. Comstock was 
 not slow in perceiving that there was a lively chance 
 for his turning an honest penny, and after a few pre- 
 liminaries he contracted with Garner to purchase and 
 deliver the cats at "Joe Runnell's," as specified, he 
 (Comstock) to receive on their deli very the round sum of 
 one hundred dollars, less ten per cent., which Garner 
 was to keep for his own commissions. Now it so hap- 
 pened that old Comstock had a quantity of salt pig 
 pork which he deemed might be turned advantageously 
 into cash by exchanging it for cats. So a few days 
 afterwards he wended his way with a horse-cart load 
 of pig pork to a district in the south-western part 
 of South Kingstown, called New Guinea, which was 
 mostly peopled with negroes, who at that time were 
 very numerous in the town. Here he soon commenced 
 a pretty extensive dickering trade. Cats being uncom- 
 monly plenty in New Guinea, it required but a few 
 days to complete his complement, he paying for them 
 at the rate of four pounds of pig pork for a full-grown 
 cat and two pounds for a half-grown kitten. After com- 
 pleting the full number of one hundred, old Comstock 
 notified Garner that he should deliver the animals on 
 Little Rest, agreeably to contract, on the next Wednes- 
 day. Garner tried to get the contractors to defer their 
 delivery until he could arrange (as he said) farther with 
 Cook, for sending the cats to Boston. But Comstock 
 plead that he had contracted for and paid in advance 
 for the commodities, and that delays might be danger- 
 I ^95 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 ous, so that he preferred delivering the animals on the 
 day named — which Garner finally assented to, though 
 lothly . Accordingly , on the next Wednesday , Comstock 
 having, on the day previous, collected the cats and put 
 them in bags — ten old cats, or twenty half-grown 
 kittens in each separate bag, making, with one nul- 
 lage bag containing ten kittens, eight bags full in all, 
 he placed them in his horse-cart and started with the 
 load for Little Rest. As I find I cannot possibly finish 
 Cat Story No. 2 in this baking, I must perforce per- 
 mit Comstock 's cats and kittens to remain bagged 
 until my next, when, should nothing prevent, I hope 
 to conclude the said story, and hasten on to show 
 how Phillis, my grandfather's most extraordinary col- 
 ored cook, came to be the remote cause of the French 
 Revolution, and the death of Marie Antoinette and 
 Louis XVL 
 
 C 1.96 ] 
 
Fifteenth Baking 
 
 'ly ^AN proposes but God disposes," is a trite but 
 jLVX ower-true saying, as I have abundant reason 
 to know, for no sooner had I, in my all but frantic 
 endeavors to bring Cat Story No. 2 to a close, that I 
 might tell my impatient readers how^ it happened that 
 Phillis, my grandfather's universally admired colored 
 cook, came to be the "remote cause of the French 
 Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie 
 Antoinette," and had just got old Comstock fairly on 
 his W2iY to Little Rest, in his horse-cart with all his 
 full-grown cats, one hundred in all (the full comple- 
 ment) stowed away in eight tow-cloth meal bags to 
 deliver according to contract, at "Joe Runnell's " tav- 
 ern, to 'Lisha Garner and receive the cash of said 
 Garner in full therefor, — than the Post-boy handed 
 me a letter from no less a personage than the Honora- 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 ble Ex-Governor Henry Howard, notifying me that he 
 had sent me a life-size picture of Phillis, my grand- 
 father's superlative cook, as she used to appear in her 
 old-fashioned comfortable kitchen, baking jonny-cake. 
 The beautiful picture has also come to hand through 
 the agency of a very polite young gentleman attache 
 of the Journal office, whose services in his department 
 are invaluable, and I hope and trust they are suitably 
 rewarded by his principals, "Messrs. Knowles, An- 
 thony and Danielson." The picture with its surround- 
 ings is 29 inches by 16 in dimension, and the artists 
 (Forbes & Co., Boston) have executed it in such 
 splendid bright and durable colors, that I am not sure 
 whether it is a Chromo, a Lithograph, or a genuine 
 Oil or Water painting, or something else of the numer- 
 ous kinds. Over the top of the picture the two words 
 " Phillis, Ambrosia " appear in large capital letters, 
 whilst beneath is printed in still bigger, double lined 
 and ornamented capitals, "Arkwright Jonnycake 
 Meal, ground by granite stones." On the left side of 
 the picture is printed in large italics, the following ex- 
 tracts from Shepherd Tom's "Rhode Island Jonny- 
 cake, first baking : " "The Southern epicures crack a 
 good deal about hoe-cake and hominy, made from their 
 white flint corn, the Pennsylvanians of their mush, the 
 Boston folks of their brown bread, but none of these re- 
 puted luxuries are worthy of holding a candle to an 
 old-fashioned Narragansett jonny-cake. " Here inter- 
 venes a blank space of an inch and seven-eighths pre- 
 cisely by the rule, and then follows another extract : 
 My grandfather used to have in his kitchen a col- 
 ored cook by the name of Phillis, who probably made 
 C 198 ] 
 
FIFTEENTH BAKING 
 
 as good a Jonny-cake in her day as any other artist 
 known, whether white or black." 
 
 On the right hand side of the priceless picture ap- 
 pears the following two extracts taken from the same 
 inimitable and veracious baking of "Rhode Island 
 Jonny-cake," as the former: 
 
 The idea that a burr stone can grind meal even 
 out of the best of Rhode Island white corn, that an old- 
 fashioned Narragansett pig would not have turned up 
 his nose at is perfectly preposterous." 
 
 Here follows another blank space precisely two inches 
 and one eighth in length, and then comes — 
 
 There are no other mill-stones on earth that will 
 grind corn meal fit for a genuine Jonny-cake, except 
 those made from the Narragansett granite rock." 
 
 In his letter. Gov. Howard says: "It was our in- 
 tention," (kings and governors never speak in the 
 singular number,) "to send you one of the pictures 
 mounted. We will do so now, but you may also keep 
 the one you have." After returning thanks for the 
 valuable present, I may just here remark that Gov. 
 Howard's letter was dated shortly after our Postmas- 
 ter-General issued his late famous circular to all his 
 subalterns in the United States, which I presume may 
 account for my not having received the mounted pic- 
 ture up to this date. Should the Governor send me a 
 duplicate, I would recommend him to address it to me 
 after a mode invented by Shepherd Tom, in his 13th 
 year, whilst he was at Westtown Friends Boarding 
 School, in West Chester county, Pennsylvania, where 
 all the boys in No. 10 grammar school (John Bullock, 
 teacher) were once required, each and every one, to 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 write a competitive composition. Out of some fifty, 
 Shepherd Tom's was awarded the praise of being the 
 very best. Its title was "A dissertation on the proper 
 method of directing letters so that they will be almost 
 sure to reach their destination from all parts of (and 
 beyond) our planetary system, consisting of seven 
 planets " (which have been since increased, let me say, 
 by astronomers to nearly twice that number, with a 
 fair prospect of more being unfolded). If Gov. Howard 
 will address my picture as therein prescribed, which 
 is as follows, and after paying the postage in full, 
 deposit it with Mr. Brayton, P.M., Providence, R. I., 
 I know he is a man who has sufficient gumption to 
 ferret out the place of my residence, and that he will 
 politely forward the mounted picture to me in one of 
 Uncle Sam's locked mail bags. The said superscription 
 by the form I had the honor to invent long before Post- 
 master-General Mr. Key was born, should run thus: 
 
 "SHEPHERD TOM. 
 
 Vaucluse, 
 
 Vaucluse School District No. 1, South Portsmouth, 
 
 Town (or Township) of Portsmouth, 
 
 Island of Rhode Island, 
 
 Newport County, 
 
 State of Rhode Island, and Providence Plantations, 
 
 New England, 
 
 Eastern States, 
 
 United States of America, 
 
 North America, 
 
 Northern Temperate Zone, 
 
 Western Hemisphere, 
 
 The World," 
 
 [ -200 2 
 
FIFTEENTH BAKING 
 
 which is one of the planets that the sun (which was 
 created three days after the earth) used to revoh^e 
 around, but which order the astronomers have, since 
 Newton's discoveries of the laws of gravitation, modi- 
 fied and made it to revolve on its own axis once in 
 twenty-four hours, and around the sun once in three 
 hundred and sixty-five days six hours (and a little 
 better), said planetary system constituting an infini- 
 tesimal part of one of the myriads of universes, that 
 move eternally in infinitude in their orbits in accord- 
 ance with the exact laws affixed by God, with which, 
 as with their Creator, "from everlasting to everlast- 
 ing," there is "no variableness nor shadow of turn- 
 ing "except on its own axis, as before intimated. 
 
 Again says Gov. Howard: " Your published letters 
 confirm our own experience, to wit: that for jonny- 
 cake the meal must be made from granite stones and 
 ground somewhat slowly.'''' True to the letter, only 
 
 somewhat ' ' should read ' ' very. ' ' I have somewhere 
 else stated how Old Benny Rodman, of Rodman's Mill 
 (now Peace Dale), sometimes used to turn a bushel 
 of nice Rhode Island white corn into his mill hopper, 
 and while it was grinding walk two miles to the Wid- 
 der Brown's, on Tower Hill, and after doing an hour's 
 courting and taking tea with her, walk back to the mill 
 in season to turn up another grist before the former had 
 all left the shoe. Again says Gov. Howard, ' ' The Ark- 
 wright meal has been thus made from the time whereof 
 the mind of man runneth not to the contrary, with 
 the exception of a short time when we tried burr-stones 
 to save time., and to the great detriment of the meal." 
 Yes, I understand ! " to save time ! ' ' that 's what 's the 
 [ 201 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 matter in this fast age, wherein everything good is 
 spoiled ' ' to save time ! " If Governor Howard had said 
 to the "utter destruction of the meal," instead of the 
 "detriment," he would have said just right ! The Gov- 
 ernor's letter continues: "The granite for the stones 
 comes from some point to the south of us, but I am not 
 certain of its precise location." From some "point to 
 the south of us ! " does it? and where on airth, let me 
 ask His Excellency, should the granite mill-stones come 
 from fit to grind jonny-cake meal, but from "a point 
 south" of him, viz.: from "Sherman town," in the 
 South County, situated in the northern part of Ancient 
 Atlantis, where that peculiarly fine and sharp-grained 
 rock was brought and deposited many centuries ago by 
 the heathen gods for their own delectable use — whilst 
 on their annual summer visit they were reveling on am- 
 brosia and the other good things, then as now, nowhere 
 else to be found, as says the envious editor of the Bos- 
 ton Post, ' ' but in the south part of Rhode Island , ' ' amid 
 the bland and fragrant breezes that ever blow from the 
 Gulf Stream, and where the invaluable granite rock was 
 discovered by Old Jimmy Sherman just after the settle- 
 ment of Kings county, whose descendants, who arestill 
 located on the spot between North and South Kings- 
 town, alone retain the art of making and pecking the 
 only mill-stones fit to grind ambrosia up to this present 
 day, let Grinnager say what he may to the contrary, 
 whether about his "old forge mill," or otherwise. 
 Gov. Howard concludes his very nice epistle with the 
 remark, "You see I adopt your nomenclature." And 
 why not, let me ask? I would just as soon put the letter 
 "H" before a Rhode Island Chausen greening, that 
 
 C 202 ] 
 
FIFTEENTH BAKING 
 
 most delicious viand, that through our darling old 
 Mother Eve's simply sticking her teeth into one side 
 of the tempting fruit damned us all eternally to Hell 
 (or nearly all), and call it the finest Happle in the world, 
 as the London cockneys do, as to place Johnny Bull's 
 Christian name before a genuine Rhode Island Jonny- 
 cake, and thereby immortalize the name of America's 
 former perfidious foe, instead of the honored name of 
 Jonathan Trumbull, the sterling American patriot, 
 whose Bible name was conferred on the surpassing 
 luxury by the women of Narragansett, shortly after 
 they and their sister patriots, in New London county 
 (where Brother Jonathan lived) had, through his and 
 Jonathan J. Hazard's suggestions, come to the rescue 
 of their country in its darkest hour, and saved the all 
 but lost cause by knitting some thousand pairs of stock- 
 ings out of the soft, silky wool of Ancient Atlantis, for 
 the bare and bleeding feet of our soldiers at Valley 
 Forge. I see that Tom R. Hazard, whom I stick closer 
 to than a brother, and who knows more about the other 
 world than any Hazard I know of (and what the Haz- 
 ards don't know ain't worth knowing), says in the 
 Journal, "the angels are coming to stay." If this is 
 to be so, I see no reason why Phillis, my grandfather's 
 most accomplished and righteous colored cook, may 
 not come with the rest, for I see that he also says in 
 the same communication that in ' ' heaven there is no 
 distinction made on account of race, color or creed," 
 but that there every one's lot is determined not by their 
 faith but by their refinement of spirit and good deeds. 
 Now I have heard Tom R. Hazard say that of all the 
 thousands of newspaper columns and pages that have 
 
 C 203 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 been printed over his signature with an R. in the mid- 
 dle of it, he will defy the world to name an instance 
 wherein he has stated a word that was not strictly true 
 according to his best knowledge and belief, and that 
 not one of his bitter controversialists have ever shown 
 to the contrary. If this is so (and I have no reason to 
 doubt what Tom R. says, over his signature with an 
 R. in it), I think that Phillis will be pretty likely to 
 come back with the rest of the angels, and so I would 
 advise Governor Howard to keep a close watch on her 
 coming, and secure her services at whatever cost early 
 after her arrival. Then I would advise him to pur- 
 chase Stewart's great marble wholesale store, corner of 
 Broadway and Chambers street, in New York (now on 
 sale, as I understand), fit it up in the old-fashioned style 
 for an Ambrosia Jonny-Cake Restaurant solely, and 
 give Phillis the exclusive charge of the baking depart- 
 ment. This done, I feel sure that such will soon be 
 the rush of patrons to partake of the good things that 
 Phillis will make out of Rhode Island ambrosia, that 
 it will take half the granite stone mills and all the 
 white corn raised in Washington and Newport coun- 
 ties to supply the demand for Rhode Island white corn 
 meal. Thus the Governor may quickly amass a big- 
 ger fortune than Stewart died possessed of — in fact, a 
 fortune big enough to exalt his soul to one of the high- 
 est seats in Heaven or sink it into one of the lowest 
 pits of Hell, just as His Excellency makes use of his 
 money, whether to gratify his own selfish propensities 
 and pride of flesh, or expend it for the good of all man- 
 kind (and all other kinds of living creatures), without 
 distinction of race, color, or creed, in accordance with 
 
 [ 204 ] . 
 
FIFTEENTH BAKING 
 
 the ability, light, and judgment God has bestowed upon 
 him! 
 
 Whilst I lived at my grandfather's in Narragan- 
 sett, I was too young to remember exactly how Phillis 
 looked, neither can I recall to mind precisely how her 
 kitchen appeared in all respects ; but in examining 
 closely Gov. Howard's fine picture, I thought I could 
 perceive that it was not exactly after the old-fashioned 
 pattern it was intended to represent. I am, however, 
 loth to criticise so fine a work of art, especially as Gov. 
 Howard bestowed upon me in his letter some very 
 complimentary expressions, which my well-known 
 modesty, amounting in fact to shamefacedness and 
 bashfulness on some occasions, will not permit me to 
 rehearse here. So I thought I would, if possible, per- 
 suade Phillis herself to come back and give her opin- 
 ion of the picture. With this object in view, I called 
 the other day upon my friend, Tom R. Hazard, and 
 asked him to instruct me in the whys and wherefores 
 through which my grandfather's transcendent cook 
 could be brought back to earth. To my great surprise 
 Tom R. gave me a flat refusal, and told me that in 
 seeking communion with the dead, everybody is sure to 
 get just such responses as are fitted to their own con- 
 ditions and aspirations, and that while those who are 
 actuated solely by the love of truth and a heartfelt de- 
 sire to accomplish good and benefit their fellow-crea- 
 tures, will be responded to by truthful spirits, those 
 who are dwelling on a false and selfish plane, and are 
 addicted to deceit and lying, will, on the contrary, be 
 sure to come en rapport or communication with just 
 such dishonest and lying spirits as are in sympathy 
 
 c; 205 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 with themselves. On my asking Tom R. in which 
 class of seekers or investigators he meant to include 
 me, he told me straight out to my utter astonishment 
 that it was "with the last named! " Said I, "Do you 
 mean, Tom R., to say that I have been guilty of out- 
 right lying? ' ' Said he in reply, ' ' If you have not been 
 guilty of outright lying, you have said things in them 
 Rhode Island jonny-cake Tom-fooleries, that come 
 so near to it that a New York beer-pot politician, or 
 a Philadelphia whiskey-swilling shyster lawyer can't 
 point out the difference." I thereupon asked Tom R. 
 to name an instance wherein I had seriously told an 
 untruth in all these veracious papers. "As for the mat- 
 ter of your seriousness, ' ' said TomR. , ' ' the Arch Fiend 
 himself can't, for the life of him, tell when you mean to 
 be serious and when you don't — but I can name scores 
 of instances where you have lied, but whether seriously 
 or injoke,Ican't tell! " "Name one instance, "said I, 
 " and I will give in. "" Well, " said TomR. ," there 's 
 what you say about nigger Sam, who, in dancing in 
 Phillis' kitchen, kicked a hole in the plastering with 
 the heel of his left foot, whilst at the same moment 
 he broke another hole with the toes of the other foot 
 sixteen feet apart from the first! " "Well," said I, 
 what of all that ! " as the Honorable Asher Robbins 
 once said (as he was sitting on a bench under the 
 Little Rest Court-house) to a wrathy client who for 
 full fifteen minutes and over had been heaping upon 
 the wily old counselor all the slang and abusive terms 
 in the English language, such as rascal, villain, rogue, 
 scoundrel, liar, with a hundred other viHfying terms 
 of like disparaging significance, until he was actually 
 
 C 206 J 
 
FIFTEENTH BAKING 
 
 obliged to pause for want of breath. Up to that time 
 Mr. Robbins had sat perfectly quiet, looking straight 
 forward, with the exception of once taking his rappee 
 snuff-box from his pocket and taking a pinch. The 
 well-abused Newport lawyer (one of the shrewdest and 
 most learned in New England) now slowly lifted his 
 head and regarding his recently defeated client with 
 an innocent inquiring look, remarked: "Well, sir, 
 what of all that? Didn't I explain, let me ask you, 
 as I went along in my faithful narrative, that black 
 Sam M^as uncommon tall, and nearly all legs at that?" 
 "Good heavens," exclaimed Tom R., '"'' uncommon 
 tall indeed! Patrick O'Brien, 'the Irish giant,' who 
 was just the tallest man that was ever known in Europe 
 or America, was but eight feet high from the crown 
 of his head to the soles of his feet, so if you split him 
 clean up to his neck," said Tom, "both his legs (al- 
 lowing only one foot for head and neck) , would meas- 
 ure but fourteen feet! " "Just so," said I, "but then 
 you must know that Sam's foot was a yard long from 
 heel to toe, so that allowing that his two legs could 
 straddle no more than fourteen feet, and he might, 
 very well, make the holes in the plastering of Phillis' 
 kitchen sixteen feet apart even admitting, as you would 
 make folks believe, that Sam's ankle was in the mid- 
 dle of his foot, as what he lacked reaching forward to 
 with the toes of the one foot, he would naturally make 
 up by reaching farther backward with the long heel of 
 the other." This rather stumped Tom R., who, mut- 
 tering something I did not exactly understand about 
 Squire Potter blowing a Providence county lawyer 
 out of the court-house M^ndow, turned and went away. 
 
 C 207 n 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 My dander being up near to the boiling point, thinks 
 I to myself, I won't give it up until I try my own hand 
 at raising the spirits, for I know that Phillis and I were 
 always loving friends when she lived at my grand- 
 father's in Narragansett, and I know no reason why 
 she should not love me now that she lives in Heaven. 
 I may just here remark without farther ado that Tom 
 R. Hazard's treatment of me brought to my mind what 
 transpired in my presence when I was a boy, between 
 old black Ned Watson, the black preacher of Tower 
 Hill, and Cuff Tory (Ned having married Cuff's sis- 
 ter). It was a very cold day, and Ned had been down 
 to the sedge beds, just where the cove joins Narrow 
 (Pettaquamscutt) river, and dug a bushel or more 
 clams. I, boy like, had gone down with Ned just to 
 see what luck he 'd have. We both started to go up to 
 the village that stood on top of Tower Hill (where the 
 court-house and jail used to be), and were a few min- 
 utes after joined by Cuff Tory, who was on his way 
 home from Governor George Brown's, who lived on 
 Boston Neck, where Cuff had been at work. Before we 
 all three had got half-way up the hill, the salt water 
 had run out of the clams down Ned's back and froze 
 on so that an icicle formed behind him on the seat of 
 his breeches, and hung down full a foot long, looking 
 for all the world like a monkey's tail. Ned now asked 
 Cuff to give him a spell and take the clams for a while 
 on his back! To this proposition Cuff demurred, where- 
 upon Ned reproached Cuff and appealed to me to say 
 whether I thought Cuff Tory in refusing to help carry 
 his clams, treated him like a brother-in-law that had 
 married his own sister! Now Tom R. Hazard is nearer 
 
 C 208 ] 
 
FIFTEENTH BAKING 
 
 to me than a brother-in-law, and I appeal to my reader 
 to say whether he has not, in his refusal to assist me 
 in raising Phillis, treated me even more shabbily than 
 CuiF Tory treated his brother-in-law, Ned Watson, 
 in the matter of carrying the bag of wet clams? But 
 be that as it may, I fully resolved to try my luck in 
 raising Phillis with what little knowledge I possessed 
 of the power of angel communion, and on the next 
 Sunday evening, weather permitting, I determined to 
 make the trial, hit or miss. I will just say, by way of 
 preliminary, that my house, where I live, was built by 
 Samuel Elam, an old English gentleman (who knew 
 what was what, about comfort, as well as most folks), 
 full one hundred years ago, and that all the fireplaces 
 (nine in number) are large and deep enough to take 
 a back-log two and a half feet by three and a half fore- 
 stick, the fireplace in the library, where I generally sit 
 whilst writing about jonny-cakes, said fireplace being 
 constructed (alike with the side pillars and mantel) 
 of marble with soapstone sides and back, measuring 
 in front four feet in length. So when Sunday came, the 
 day being pleasant and the atmosphere clear, with the 
 wind north-west, and the air of course fully charged 
 with electric elements (all very essential conditions 
 among others, as I have heard Tom R. say, in getting 
 communication from the spirit world), I had a two- 
 foot green upland white-oak log put clean back into 
 my library fireplace. On top of this white-oak log I 
 laid a one-foot six-inch yaller (not yellow) bark oak 
 back stick on top of that. Next I laid on my heavy 
 topped brass hand (not and) irons, which are two and 
 one-half feet long and two feet high, and one foot 
 
 C 209 H 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 through : bewitching smelling Rhode Island white- 
 wannut fores tick, [the reader must pardon me for in- 
 serting after a comma, in a parenthesis, an anecdote re- 
 called to my memory by the mention of wannut wood, 
 in connection with the Hon. Joseph M. Blake, a man 
 of the finest genius and most classical mind, and about 
 the most eloquent (among the host of eloquent) plead- 
 ers ^^ that ev^er bewildered and dumbfounded a Rhode 
 Island jury. I was sitting with "Silver-tongued Joe 
 Blake" in his office in College street. Providence, one 
 rather warm evening in November, where he had a 
 white-wannut wood fire roaring up the chimney, big 
 enough to warm all out-doors. In fact, such was its 
 fervor that both of us had to sit as near an open door 
 as possible to keep from roasting. Said I, Mr. Blake, 
 how much do you pay a cord for your wannut wood? 
 Twelve dollars! he replied. Said I, What upon earth 
 do you keep such a pile on your fire for on such a 
 warm evening as this? They tell me, said he, that the 
 ashes of wannut wood is good manure, and I want to 
 get some to put on my garden down in Bristol! And 
 how many ashes do you get, said I, from a cord of 
 wood? About half a barrel, said he! And how much 
 does it cost to transport the ashes to Bristol ? inquired 
 I. Not more, replied the Baconian scholar, than one 
 dollar and seventy-five cents a barrel for freight — 
 cartage at both ends and cost of barrel included — and 
 the ashes, continued he, are worth half as much again 
 as that for manure — if all I hear be true! ] — one foot 
 through at the smallest end. Next on top of the 
 wannut forestick I put a green sugar maple stick ten 
 inches in diameter (measured in the middle) , between 
 [ 210 ] 
 
FIFTEENTH BAKING 
 
 which and the forestick I placed (so as to give air) a 
 couple of wannut wood toggrels, four inches in length 
 and one inch in diameter (one of the toggrels near each 
 end). On top of the toggrels that lay on the sugar ma- 
 ple sticks I next placed a limb eight inches through, 
 that was sawed that morning from a Rhode Island 
 Chausen greening apple tree, the second only in descent 
 and pedigree from the original stock that was imported 
 by Mr. Bowler, the great Newport merchant, direct 
 from the site of the garden of Eden, in Assyria. As I 
 have before notified readers in a previous paper, the 
 graft for said tree, which is still standing at Vaucluse, 
 the former residence of Mr. Elam, which heaven on 
 earth was so named by him in consequence of a dis- 
 appointment in a love affair, the details of which may 
 be found on page 89, "Recollections of the Olden 
 Times, by Ibid;" and again on top of the toggrels 
 that lay on the choice greening apple tree stick, I laid 
 a sweet-scented birch stick, the bark of which was as 
 smooth and shiny as the face of a looking-glass, and 
 so alternately with wannut, maple, apple, and birch, 
 decreasing gradually in size as the pile ascended, until 
 the top of the second back stick was reached, when a 
 stick of Narragansett sassifax, vulgarly called sassa- 
 fras, called in the olden time the ' ' crowning log, ' ' more 
 deUghtful in perfume than all the spices of Arabia, 
 was placed on the top of the whole. After all the needful 
 sticks of M^ood were piled on, I took a lot of green wan- 
 nut, Rhode Island Chausen greening, sugar maple, 
 black cherry, birch, and sassifax fine brush and chips 
 and filled all the vacancies and interstices between the 
 different sticks of wood, well intermingled with dried, . 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 sweet-smelling sage, fragrant thyme, and Narragan- 
 sett pennyroyal (the last named being by all odds the 
 most delightfully odorous plant that was ever imported 
 and transplanted by the gods into the rich soil of At- 
 lantis, where, when fanned by the balmy, soft breezes 
 from the Gulf Stream, it wonderfully thrived and 
 spread on every hillside, until the plant has become, 
 as it were, native to the soil). I arranged the wood for 
 my proposed sacrificial fire as described, after the plan 
 I remembered my grandfather pursued on important 
 occasions, such as weddings, Christmas days, or when 
 he expected public Friends (Quaker preachers) from 
 England, Scotland, Ireland, or Holland, to stop a night 
 or more at his house, as they sometimes did, from all 
 these distant localities. I did this because I thought 
 if anything would be likely to attract Phillis back to 
 earth, it would most likely be one of the magnificent 
 fires so common in her day, but now, alas, almost en- 
 tirely done away with, to give place to gloomy-look- 
 ing, sulphur-steaming iron furnaces, grates, steam and 
 water pipes, and soul-benumbing and body-killing an- 
 thracite coal stoves. In short, I was foolish enough to 
 think that if the aroma arising from the putrid bodies 
 of a few score of unbaptized Indians, murdered for 
 their land by the old fire-and-brimstone Puritans of 
 Massachusetts Bay, was sufficiently aromatic to ascend 
 up to the deity they had created in their own dis- 
 tempered imagination as a " sweet-smelling sacrifice," 
 as Cotton Mather says, why, then, I saw no reason to 
 doubt that Phillis, my grandfather's incomparable col- 
 ored cook, who always delighted in making a mess 
 of porridge and baking a jonny-cake for any forlorn, 
 
 I 212 ] 
 
FIFTEENTH BAKING 
 
 unfortunate fellow-creature who chanced to come into 
 her kitchen, even if nothing but a poor Indian, and 
 who, I doubted not, had a living faith in the divine 
 precepts inculcated by the tender-spirited and loving 
 Jesus of Nazareth ; and, in the boundless mercy of his, 
 and her, and all created beings' loving Father, God, 
 I say I had no reason to doubt, under the circumstances, 
 that she, (Phillis,) too, might be attracted to earth by 
 a roaring, blazing, aromatic wood fire, such as she 
 loved so supremely when clothed upon with flesh. So 
 after placing upright against the mantel the identical 
 wrought iron slice with which Phillis used to draw of 
 a morning, from the oven, her dozen or more delicious 
 loaves of Rhineinjun bread, the iron handle being some 
 five feet long, for the special reason that otherwise the 
 overpowering delicious perfume that poured out in 
 volumes from her newly opened air-tight oven might 
 knock her clean down, I lit the sacrificial fire at about 
 9 o'clock on the evening of the day before mentioned, 
 and sat myself down in one corner, determined to wait 
 patiendy for a couple of hours or so, Micawber-like, 
 to see what, if anything, would turn up. What did 
 turn up on that eventful evening I must, for the want 
 of space (in spite of the cats in the bags) defer to another 
 paper. I must, however, be allowed to say in another 
 short parenthesis, that the unlucky mention of those 
 ' ' cats in the bags ' ' brings to my mind an anecdote 
 about ' ' letting the cat out of the bag ' ' that may cause 
 me to burst if I am not allowed to relate, which I will 
 for that reason venture to do, promising my readers 
 that after that favor is granted, I will with due dili- 
 gence proceed, in my next, to get Phillis, my grand- 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 father's, &c. (for shortness sake), out of the way, and 
 then, after finishing Cat Story No. 2, explain as soon 
 as practicable how Phillis, my grandfather's univer- 
 sally-famed colored cook, happened to become "the 
 remote cause of the French Revolution, and the death 
 of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette." So here goes ! 
 Doctor Phisic was one of the most renowned of the 
 Philadelphia medical faculty, which is saying a good 
 deal when it is recalled to mind that Doctor Rush and 
 his medical school took more lives with the lancet dur- 
 ing a few years' practice than were destroyed by the 
 sword in the late Civil War! Now, Doctor Phisic had 
 a lady patient (remarkable for her wealth) whose case 
 he was, with all his skill, unable to make a diagnosis 
 of, although he had called by her request more than 
 an hundred times to examine her symptoms. Finally, 
 one day when the Doctor paid his usual visit, his lady 
 patient put into his hand a bag with something inside 
 of it, which she asked the Doctor to untie! He did so, 
 and the mysterious cat immediately jumped out of 
 the bag. To speak more plainly, ' ' The cat was let out 
 of the bag," after which the Doctor married his lady 
 patient, and she recovered her health without the use 
 of drugs. 
 
 C 214 ] 
 
Sixteenth Baking 
 
 MY magnificent, not to say grandiloquent old-fash- 
 ioned Narragansett fire roared up the chimney 
 in a superb blaze of glory, filling the room with a Hght 
 far transcending that of a cloudless noonday sun, and 
 a perfume that would put to shame a thousand acre 
 garden of the sweetest scented Persian roses. Lest per- 
 verse readers should doubt what I say, I may here re- 
 mark that to grace the occasion and make everything 
 as attractive to Phillis (my grandfather's wonderfully 
 accomplished cook) as possible, I placed on the centre 
 table two lighted dipped tallow candles (ten to thepound) 
 that I had with much pains obtained from the out 
 of the way district in the South County called Hard- 
 scrabble, where but few of the modern cussed patent 
 improvements and labor-saving machines had as yet 
 found their way. Chancing to cast my eyes in the di- 
 rection of these home-made "ten to the pound," I 
 observed that they had both (as I thought) gone out; 
 but upon placing the forefinger of my right hand 
 on the charred tow wick of the one nearest me in order 
 to doubly assure myself of the fact, I got it badly 
 blistered with the flame of the candle which was all 
 aglow, though no longer visible in the superabundant 
 and transcendent light of my sweet-scented wannut, 
 oak, apple tree, maple, sassifax, and birch-wood sacri- 
 ficial fire. Whether it was owing to the overpowering 
 delightful odor that filled every corner and cranny of 
 the room, or to some other cause, I know not, but I 
 had scarcely reclined my head on the back of my easy- 
 
 [ 215 :i 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 chair, ere my senses seemed wrapped in sweet obliv- 
 ion, and I resigned myself to sensations more delight- 
 ful, I feel sure, than rum or brandy, opium or to- 
 bacco, or any other earthly thing can bestow. From 
 this pleasing reverie I was after a while aroused, by 
 hearing a once familiar voice, repeating in never-to- 
 be-forgotten tones, "Lor', sussyme — Lor',sussyme! 
 sussy me ! sussy me ! did never a body ever seed ! did 
 never a body ever seed ! ever seed ! ever seed ! ' ' and 
 turning my eyes toward the corner opposite where I 
 was reclining, I beheld an old colored woman seated 
 in my stuffed rocking-chair, danghng the old iron slice 
 on her knees, and casting her eyes with a look of won- 
 der, hither and thither, on the pictures and engrav- 
 ings that hung in close proximity against the walls 
 of my library. At the first glance I knew Phillis (my 
 grandfather's never-to-be-forgotten colored cook), for 
 it was no other than she, with her short, gray, tight 
 curled hair, surmounted with a cap of uncertain color, 
 and dressed in a pepper-and-salt linsey-woolsey petti- 
 coat (all spun, colored, and wove in my grandfather's 
 family, as was the custom in those halcyon days), M^th 
 a linen short-gown to match, and a heavy threaded 
 white linen apron, reaching from her chin to her feet, 
 and clean around her body, where it was tied with a 
 string at the back. Phillis had on her feet the very same 
 old slip-shod shoes she used to wear when I was a small 
 boy, the identity of which I could swear to on the Bible, 
 for the reason, if no other, that they were worn through 
 at the toes, which signifies that Phillis would never 
 accumulate property, the good, true, old-time adage 
 holding that all who wear their shoes at the toes will 
 C 216 ] 
 
SIXTEENTH BAKING 
 
 spend as they goes, whilst those who wear them at the 
 heel will live to get a good deal ; and again, those who 
 wear their shoes at the ball will live to spend all ! 
 
 The dear old soul was so taken up in the pictures on 
 the walls, which, she said, beat anything she had ever 
 seed in Narragansett, or in Heaven (the only places, 
 she said, worth knowing), that it was some time be- 
 fore I was noticed by her at all ; but the moment her 
 eyes fell on me, the dear old critter exclaimed in much 
 excitement : ' ' Lor' , sussy me ! sussy me ! Is that you, 
 Massa Tommy? Why, I never seed how you have 
 grow'd ! " On my assuring Phillis that I was no other 
 than the little boy grown to old age, for whom she used 
 to bake jonny-cake and parch corn, she seemed as if 
 she would never tire of talking about old times, and 
 calling to my remembrance scenes and incidents that 
 transpired in my childhood days, such as my put- 
 ting the old yaller cat into the woodchuck hole under 
 the orchard wall and shutting her in with a big flat 
 stone, and then my calling all the little nigs and nig- 
 gresses around me to hear her and the woodchuck 
 growl ; and then again all about my falling from an old 
 high stone wall as I attempted to reach from its top 
 a red-streak sweeting apple, and how I came pretty 
 nigh being eat up by the hogs who were attracted to 
 the spot by my yelling and hullabaloo, and how it took 
 everybody in the house to beat the varmints off with 
 window-sticks, canes, shovel and tongs, and the deuce 
 knows what ; and how I got my foot mashed with the 
 stones, and was obliged to sit all day long in my little 
 armed flag-bottomed chair, that dear good old squaw 
 Esther, the last Indian Queen of the Narragansetts, 
 
 C 217 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 made for me, as she sat by Aunty Phillis' kitchen fire ; 
 and how just at that time old carpenter Bill Gardiner 
 came to new sill grandpa's crib, and made great piles 
 of the most glorious spaulters and chips ever seen — 
 and how I would not let any pickaninny, whether in 
 hall or kitchen, white or black, touch one of them until I 
 and my foot got well enough to let me work my way to 
 the woodpile by jogging along in my little armed chair 
 — and how I then sat there like King Nebuchadnezzar 
 on his throne, only a heap sight prouder and bigger 
 feeling than he, with my grandma's cane for a sceptre 
 in my hand — and how I made all my subjects, male 
 and female, white, yellow, and black, bring the big 
 spaulters and chips and lay them at my feet, whilst I 
 told them to do this and they did it, and to do that and 
 they bowed their heads in submission, and how, when 
 I placed my sceptre on the handsomest, smoothest look- 
 ing spaulter, and told Sal to carry it to my grand- 
 ma's room, how she hastened to do my bidding, and 
 then hurried back again in a rush, and how, when I 
 told yaller Suke to carry the next best looking spaul- 
 ter to the "great-room" wood closet, she said nary a 
 word, but run at my command — and how when I told 
 Abe to take the knotty, bad looking spaulters and chips 
 to Aunty Phillis to bake jonny-cake with, he too was 
 obliged to obey me, and started sulkily off on a slow 
 walk! and how, when, on another occasion, I cut off 
 with old Tom Gould's great chopping axe, a big but- 
 tonwood log before I was five years old ! and how I 
 began the job right after breakfast, and whenever I got 
 oflf a chip as big as a fourpence hap-penny, how I ran 
 in and showed it to grandma, and how she always said 
 C 218 ] 
 
SIXTEENTH BAKING 
 
 on every such occasion, that she didn't believe there 
 was another five-year-old in all Narragansett who could 
 make so big a chip, and how she always gave me a 
 doughnut finger for it, and how I would then run as 
 fast as my little legs would carry me back to the wood- 
 pile, and work away with the heavy axe like a beaver 
 until I got off another chip a little bigger, may be, than 
 the last one I carried in, when I M^ould take that too to 
 grandma, that she might again feed me with a new 
 supply of doughnut and praise ; and how I kept at my 
 work without intermission, until after sunset, when 
 I got the old buttonwood log chopped clean off, and 
 how I wouldn't let Abe nor nobody else help me carry 
 it into grandma's room, but rolled it over and over 
 all the way myself as I sat in my little chair. And how 
 grandma wouldn't let the log be put on her lire, but 
 set it up in the corner of her room to show to folks what 
 her little Tommy did all himself, always accompanied 
 with the remark that she did n't believe there was ever 
 a five-year-old boy in all Narragansett before, and cer- 
 tainly nowhere else, who ever cut off so big a button- 
 wood log. And how when I got the log all myself into 
 grandma's room, she caught me up in her arms, and 
 after kissing me to death, gave me a whole old-fash- 
 ioned five-finger rye doughnut, and said she was sure 
 a little boy of my grit and perseverance would be sure 
 when he grew up to make a bigger man than Julius 
 Caesar or Napoleon Bonaparte, which prophecy (I may 
 here be allowed modestly to say), the logic of events has 
 since proved to be true ! And then Phillis went on to tell 
 how when my mother dressed me up one day in my 
 best clothes, Abe (that born son of the Devil) enticed me 
 
 C 219 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 to roll in the cow yard with him to see which would 
 beat in dirtying his clothes, and how when my mother 
 dressed me up a second time, Abe made a bet of two 
 sweet apples that he would dirty his clothes the worst 
 by our rolling in the sink gutter, and how when my 
 mother redressed me again in my last suit of clean 
 clothes, she shut me up in the closet to keep me from 
 dirtying them as I had the others. I well remember be- 
 ing shut in the great-room closet on that occasion, from 
 the circumstance that I then and there used the first 
 bad words I ever remember to have uttered. It was after 
 this wise: There was a motley brown, red, and yellow 
 colored gallon molasses jug in the closet which, not- 
 withstanding the dim light, I was not slow to discover. 
 I remember it now with its cob stopple just as well as 
 if it was but yesterday I saw it. Now I had in my pocket 
 a sort of an old broken-pointed hacked bladed jack- 
 knife that I traded a big chunk of gingerbread for with 
 Pete Allen. After taking the cob stopple out of the jug, 
 I opened my jack-knife and found I could just reach 
 the molasses by holding the end of the handle between 
 my thumb and finger, but not so deep as to afford a 
 good lick of molasses. So I took the handle between my 
 fore and middle finger and pushed the knife down as 
 far as it would reach, with both my fingers thrust into 
 the neck of the jug. I got five or six good licks in this 
 way, but unfortunately in endeavoring to get my fin- 
 gers a little too far in the nozzle of the jug, the knife 
 handle slipped from between them and fell, blade and 
 all, cajunct to the bottom of the inside of the jug. In the 
 trepidation and excitement caused by the accident, I 
 inadvertently exclaimed, "By George! " Where I got 
 
 C 220 ^ 
 
SIXTEENTH BAKING 
 
 that heathen form of an oath from, I am sure I cannot 
 tell. I think it must have come by nature, as I am sure 
 I never heard it used in all my life before. Abe always 
 swore "by Josh," and Mose, "by the Holies." So I 
 could not have learned it from either of them, and there 
 were no other persons in the house, black or white, male 
 or female, who did not strictly obey Christ's command- 
 ment, "Swear not at all." My grandfather was a 
 preacher in the Society of Friends, and as I disremem- 
 ber, sometimes used the injunction of Jesus as a text 
 for a sermon. Wherever I may have got the bad words 
 from — my mother, who was sitting in her rocking- 
 chair sewing just outside the closet door, was greatly 
 shocked at hearing her litde boy use such wicked lan- 
 guage, and taking me from the closet, she feelingly 
 expostulated with me about the grievous sin I had 
 committed, for a long time, and again when she put 
 me to bed that night she sat by my bedside mor'n an 
 hour, and prayed with me to be forgiven. She cried 
 and I cried and promised her and God that I would 
 never again use the naughty words ' ' by George, ' ' and 
 to the best of my recollection I never have — not at least 
 as an adjuration. I think if Phillis could have held her 
 position here till doomsday she would have continued 
 to talk Old Times, but remembering that Tom R. 
 always said that spirits from the other world were no 
 more omnipotent than mortals of this world — and that 
 they are governed just the same as we are, by con- 
 ditions, circumstances, and fixed laws, and that the 
 power through which they manifest is limited, I be- 
 gan to fear that Phillis would exhaust what powers she 
 had before I got her opinion about Governor Howard's 
 C 221 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 picture, which hung just opposite to where she sat, 
 and upon which I observed her eyes were after a while 
 mostly fixed, to the exclusion of all other objects in 
 the room. So, with the object of changing the subject, 
 I said, Phillis, of all the pictures in this room, which 
 do you think the prettiest? "Wal," answered she, 
 "that black gal with the red short gown and yaller 
 petticoat with a red silk bandanna hankercher round 
 her head is a heap sight the prettiest picter of all ! " 
 And, said I, Do you know, Phillis, who that black 
 gal is? "How should a body know," said she, "who 
 like me was dead long before the black gal in the picter 
 was born? But, Massa Tommy, who was the pretty 
 critter, do tell? ' ' Said I, That black gal was drawn by 
 a fine artist to represent you, Phillis ! "Golly, Massa 
 Tommy," exclaimed Phillis, " don't make fun of dis 
 old negur ! " No, said I; Phillis, I am in dead earn- 
 est — the picture you see is meant to represent you and 
 nobody else, just as you looked when you were bak- 
 ing jonny-cakes in my grandfather's kitchen! Upon 
 my saying this, Phillis, after giving the picture an 
 indescribable comical look, asked, "Who made that 
 picter, Massa Tommy? " I said, "It was executed by 
 Forbes Co.'''' "Where," inquired she, "does Forbes 
 Co. live? " I said, ''''Forbes Co. reside in Boston ! " "I 
 en'yjestthoughtso," said Phillis; "them Boston folks 
 don't know northin' ! So, Massa Tommy," continued 
 Phillis, "do tell what all them things in the picter 
 mean?" Said I: "That thing on the right is a cup- 
 board, in which is arranged a set of China plates." 
 Golly ! ' ' exclaimed Phillis, ' ' what would old Missus 
 thought to seen her Chany plates out in my kitchen ? 
 
 [ 222 ] 
 
SIXTEENTH BAKING 
 
 Them Boston folks don't know northin' ! And there, 
 as sure as I be blest, if there ain't a tea-kettle set up on 
 the shelf close to the Chany plates ! If there is anything 
 on airth that old Missus would have 'spised more 
 than another, it would be to see the tea-kettle 'side of 
 her Chany. Them Boston folks don't know northin' ! ' ' 
 Phillis next asked me what those things were on top 
 of the cupboard. I said there was a work basket, a 
 bottle — probably of yeast — and a little dish full of 
 cake. When I mentioned the dish of cake, Phillis 
 laughed right out. "Why," said she, "before Massa 
 Tommy was five year old, he would eat all them little 
 cakes at one mouthful. I never seed no dish of cake in 
 my kitchen littler than a four-quart keeler would hold. 
 Them Boston folks don't know northin'!" I next 
 called Phillis' attention to the kitchen fireplace, and 
 asked her how it compared with her old fireplace. 
 "That thing you call a fireplace? "said she ; "looks 
 en'y jest as much like my old kitchen fireplace as that 
 black gal looks like me ! Them Boston folks don't know 
 northin'! And then that thing, I s'pose, was meant 
 for a handiron. If there is anything on airth I 'spise, 
 it is jest such a thing as that handiron ! Them Bos- 
 ton folks don't know northin' ! " What, said I, do you 
 think of the fire in the picture? "Golly," said Phillis, 
 "you call that a fire, Massa Tommy?" Yes, said I, 
 that was meant to represent your kitchen fire, which I 
 su ppose by your looks you thoroughly despise. ' ' No, ' ' 
 replied Phillis, ' ' I don't 'spise that fire a bit. That fire 
 ain't worth 'spising. Them Boston folks don't know 
 northin' ! " Said I, What do you think of the jonny- 
 cake you are represented to be carrying to the table 
 
 C 223 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 to turn? "You call thatajonny-cake, Massa Tommy, 
 such as I used to bake in Massa Hazard's kitchen ! 
 Why, Massa Tommy, that thing youcall a jonny-cake 
 is put on a board made out of a great thick black oak 
 pork barrel head, which it don't cover much more than 
 half over, and has nine blisters on it besides. My 
 jonny-cakes was allers baked on a red oak head of a 
 flour barrel, and I never made nine blisters on all the 
 jonny-cakes I ever baked in all my life ; let alone nine 
 on one jonny-cake. Them Boston folks don't know 
 northin' ! " After this fashion, Phillis went on to criti- 
 cise Gov. Howard's picture, in the most unsparing 
 manner, showing from the smooth, unsanded floor to 
 the flats and candlesticks on the kitchen mantel, that 
 there was not one thing in it that bore the least resem- 
 blance to her old kitchen and its fixings any more 
 than the red jacketed black gal looked like my grand- 
 father's wonderfully accomplished cook, who was the 
 ' ' remote cause of the French Revolution, and the death 
 of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. ' ' Finally, Philhs, 
 making a motion as if about to go, asked me whether 
 or no Gov. Howard ever lived in Narragansett? I told 
 her I believed not, but that his home was in Provi- 
 dence. Said she, "Them Providence folks don't know 
 northin' ; ' ' whereupon Phillis began perceptibly to fade 
 away. Said I, Phillis, don't go quite yet ! I want to ask 
 you some questions about Louis XVI and Marie An- 
 toinette. Upon this Phillis' form again became pretty 
 fully reinstated ; but she said I must be quick, as ' ' the 
 'terializing power is en'y most all used up, and," said 
 she, ' ' I want to get out of sight of that dreadful looking 
 thing Governor Howard called a jonny-cake." I then 
 
 [ 224 ;] 
 
SIXTEENTH BAKING 
 
 asked Phillis if she ever now-a-days saw Louis XVI 
 and Marie Antoinette. "Lor' sakes," said she, "Louis 
 and Rie have been setting on that there sofa behind you, 
 Massa Tommy, ever since I been here, only you can't 
 see them because they haven't got their old cast-oiF 
 clothes on." Said I, I Mash, Phillis, you would ask 
 Louis and Marie if the account I have written out con- 
 cerning them and how you came to be the remote cause 
 of the French Revolution and their death , is correct in 
 all its parts and wording. Phillis said in reply that 
 Louis was mighty pouty just now and would not say 
 much because Rie had been looking all the time at 
 a mighty pretty picter that hung over my desk, which 
 Rie said was "en'y jest the prettiest looking man she 
 ever seed in all her life. ' ' Phillis, however, told me that 
 Rie said the account of the wonderful things that had 
 happened in connection with Phillis and what resulted 
 therefrom, as written out by me to be printed in the 
 Journal, were all correct except that Rie's pillion cost 
 but two dollars and a half instead of three, as I had it 
 stated, and that Whales' bandanna pocket hankercher 
 was made of half-silk and half-cotton, instead of all silk, 
 whilst his umbrill was made of all nankeen cotton, in- 
 stead of half-and-half, and had but one (and not two) 
 whalebone sticks broke. I may be permitted here to 
 say in parenthesis, much against my naturally modest 
 disposition, verging on bashfulness — as before inti- 
 mated — that the full-sized, half-length portrait that 
 Marie Antoinette had been regarding for a half-hour 
 or more with such unalloyed (not to say intense) ad- 
 miration, greatly to the annoyance of her royal spouse, 
 Louis, was executed in oil by Miss Jane Stuart, the 
 [ 225 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 daughter of the celebrated Gilbert Stuart, who exe- 
 cuted with much artistic skill and fine effect the full- 
 sized portrait of the immortal Washington. I may, per- 
 haps, also be allowed to say without giving offense, 
 that the writer," Shepherd Tom," had the honor of 
 sitting for the picture so enthusiastically and justly ad- 
 mired by Marie Antoinette for its superb beauty and 
 elegant demeanor, thought by amateurs to be executed 
 by the fair daughter of the world-renowned artist in 
 every respect equal with or rather superior to that of 
 Washington by her gifted father, which life-size like- 
 ness of ' ' Shepherd Tom ' ' in respect to beauty ^^ of face, 
 feature, and head, and perfection of person — in every 
 possible particular, including a surpassing amiable ex- 
 pression of countenance and gracefulness of attitude 
 (hence the secret of Marie's uncontrollable admira- 
 tion), is thought by amateurs to greatly excel Miss 
 Stuart's renowned father's picture of the Father of his 
 Country. It should be remembered that Gilbert Stuart, 
 the greatest portrait painter ever born into the known 
 world, was a Narragansett boy by birth, he having first 
 seen the light near the head of Pettaquamscutt river, in 
 the north-east chamber of a double-ended brick house, 
 still standing in good repair, and was baptized by Dr. 
 MacSparran "on the 11th of April, 1756, on a Palm 
 Sunday, Sureties, the doctor, Mr. Benjamin Mum- 
 ford and Mrs. Hannah Mumford." See Updike, His- 
 tory of Narragansett Church, p. 252. On my request- 
 ing Phillis to get from Louis and Marie the details in 
 full of the remarkable occurrences that took place in 
 connection with her (Phillis) precedent to the French 
 Revolution and the death of Louis XVI and Marie An- 
 
 C 226 ] 
 
SIXTEENTH BAKING 
 
 toinette, she told me that Rie would gladly pass the long 
 night in relating the story to me, were it not that Louis 
 was so cross, and was constantly trying to get her away, 
 so that she could not look at my picture. Phillis had 
 scarcely told me this when she suddenly exclaimed, 
 ' ' Golly, there they go through the window, Louis first, 
 dragging Rie by the arm right arter him ! " I rushed 
 to the window, but could see nothing, and on turning 
 round found that Phillis had gone also. 
 
 C 227 n 
 
Seventeenth Baking 
 
 BEFORE proceeding with Cat Story No. 2, I will 
 just remark that in printing the 15th baking 
 (which has just come to my hand), either I or the 
 Journal made an awful mistake in Shepherd Tom's 
 Post Office address in the leaving out after ' ' Vau- 
 cluse School District No. 1, " the all-important words, 
 South Portsmouth Post Office, the omission of which 
 in the light of Postmaster-General Key's instructions 
 to his subordinates makes the thing to resemble the 
 immortal Shakespearean play of ' ' Hamlet, with the 
 Prince of Denmark left out." Another dreadful mis- 
 take occurs in the same baking, which, without re- 
 butting evidence of the strongest kind, I shall lay at 
 the doors of the Journal compositors and proof-reader. 
 I mean where, in describing the wood used in the con- 
 struction of Phillis' (my grandfather's superabound- 
 ing colored cook) sacrificial fire, I am made to spell the 
 old-fashioned Narragansett sweet-smelling white ruan- 
 mit, with an " 1 " instead of a double " nn, " just as the 
 Providence county common school larned woodmen 
 spell the black-hearted walnut (not worth a damn) 
 with which they cheat their Providence city customers, 
 who, as Phillis elsewhere wisely remarked, "don't 
 know northin'!" 
 
 To begin anew, I think I left old Comstock with his 
 eight bags of cats (one hundred in all) sitting in his 
 horse-cart just as he got out of " Old Guinea," where 
 I may just be allowed to say in parenthesis, after a 
 comma to save time and breath, old Sharper Boose 
 
 [ 228 ] 
 
SEVENTEENTH BAKING 
 
 lived, an old African negro, who once put his shoulder 
 to the hub of the wheel of an ox-cart, loaded with half 
 a cord of green white wannut wood that had got stuck 
 in a mud-hole, and turned the load, cart and all, clean 
 bottom upward, before the driver of the oxen had time 
 to say Git up, or whoa, into the Matoonek road, a little 
 south of old Quaker William Peckham's tannery, from 
 whence the old man continued to jog along with his 
 eight bags of full-grown and half-grown cats on his 
 way northward past Cupid hill (known to some igno- 
 ramus as Cubit hill), so named because the little devil 
 of that name used to sit on top of it half the time and 
 more on summer days, and squint sheep's eyes at the 
 pretty damsels and milk-maids that passed along the 
 road where the Goddess Venus and her newly mar- 
 ried blacksmith Lord Vulcan passed their honeymoon 
 after their marriage (which took place at or near the 
 Narragansett Pier, in Atlantis), accompanied by the 
 eldest Cupid, her bastard boy (who, as veracious his- 
 tory relates, had mor'n a dozen fathers beside Jupi- 
 ter) ; said hill and rural cottage being on the east side 
 of said Matoonek road, a little north of Venus' hus- 
 band's (summer season) smithy, which stood a little to 
 the south on the west side of the road, on land that 
 after the gods and goddesses finally left Atlantis, made 
 a part of the "Hazard Perry homestead farm," so- 
 called until after the battle on Lake Erie, when it took 
 the sobriquet of "Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry's 
 homestead estate; " and so a little further on, where 
 Squire William Peckham, Jr. (the widely known and 
 respected tanner) , one of the truest and best men that 
 was ever raised in South Kingstown, lived and died, 
 
 C 229 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 after bringing up reputably and carefully on the hon- 
 est returns of his calling, a large family of children ; 
 and so again on northerly, leaving on the right hand 
 the old Edward Hazard house, that stood a little south 
 of "Dockray's corner," where young John Dockray 
 lived in my early days. His father, old John Bigelow 
 Dockray, lived at the same time in the house further 
 on, now owned by "lawyer Ned Hazard" (the lawyer 
 part of whose name belongs to Providence, in the Plan- 
 tations, and the other three syllables to Narragansett, 
 in Rhode Island); and so on, by the old bush-topped 
 red cedar tree that used to stand between said young 
 John Dockray's house and the corner where the Little 
 Rest road comes in — up which tree a nine-year-old 
 boy, named Tim Brown, once climbed to a crow's nest 
 in the top of it and brought down four crow's eggs 
 in his big mouth, which he put under his mother's old 
 setting hen, and after they were hatched he carried the 
 heads of the young crows to Little Rest and got the 
 town bounty of ten cents apiece for them. Thence leav- 
 ing Sugar Loaf Hill a quarter of a mile to the right, 
 where old Jonathan Sweet, son of Job, the natural bone- 
 setter, used to live, and his sons Job and William and 
 grandsons and great-grandsons without number, any 
 one of whom has set and mended more bones scientifi- 
 cally and withoutpain, during thelast century, sheerly 
 by a gift of nature, than has been done by all the sur- 
 geons and doctors in the United States — and hence the 
 bitter enmity of those legalized torturers and murderers 
 of mankind ; and, after turning the corner to the left, 
 proceeded on his way past the tall gum trees that used 
 to stand in a swale close to the north side of the road 
 
 C 230 ;] 
 
SEVENTEENTH BAKING 
 
 (where the great solemn-looking Quawks used in my 
 early days to build their nests and lay eggs nigh upon 
 as big and twice as good as hen's eggs), and so on by 
 old Gid Grenman's house that stood on the north side 
 of the road just in the south-east corner of "Old Britain' ' 
 (called for short "Old Brit"), said Gideon having a 
 beautiful green acre of land before his door that he had 
 made rich by sea- weed, bones, old rags, &c., that he 
 had, through scores of years, picked up and brought 
 home in a back basket, strapped on his shoulders, which 
 when he went fishing down to the Pint Judy rocks, 
 in case he "cotcht no luck," he used to stuif with sea 
 or rock weed and bring home on his back a distance of 
 four miles and more ; and so on westerly until he passed 
 old John Gould's house, that stood in "Old Brit" on 
 the north side of the road, he being the same scientist 
 and philosopher who, as I have said before, used to say 
 that he was sure the world never turned round, because 
 if it did, the pot of small potatoes he always hung over 
 his fire at night for his pig would be sure to be bottom 
 upwards in the morning. 
 
 After recovering my breath after the foregoing rather 
 lengthy sentence, I will, before proceeding further, re- 
 late an anecdote, M^herein old Kit Robinson, in passing 
 by John's house, just held up his horse a moment to 
 inquire of old Miss Gould (John's wife, not Mrs. if you 
 please, the latter term being applied in those primitive 
 times only to ' ' quality folk "), how her husband (then 
 out at work by the day) expected ever to be able to pay 
 for the three parts stone lot and one part moss (he heard 
 he had lately contracted for), situated, on the other side 
 of the road. In answer the old woman told one by one 
 
 C 231 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 some dozen or more ways by which her husband ex- 
 pected to get the money, each and all of which were 
 shown by old Kit to be fallacious in turn. Whereupon 
 old Miss Gould, now driven to her wits' end, after 
 two or three hesitating sighs, drew a long breath and 
 remarked, that at any rate she thought they would get 
 along someho\v or another ' ' in the scrabble," and pay 
 for their lot, upon which old Kit Robinson rejoined, that 
 he feared it would prove a "hard scrabble" for John, 
 from w hich saying not only old John Gould's new pur- 
 chase, but a large, rocky, stony, and mossy district of 
 country, lying on the south side of the Little Rest road 
 opposite ' ' Old Brit, ' ' came to be known as ' ' Hard- 
 scrabble." "Old Brit" and "Hardscrabble," miser- 
 able districts of country as they certainly were in the 
 olden time, might have been singled out purposely by 
 the fates to illustrate, as I have before more than once sug- 
 gested, the truth of the words, viz. : " From what little 
 causes great effects (sometimes) arise. "Even so, and 
 what if I should relate how the voters of these two little 
 starvation districts once turned the scale, and elected 
 a President of these United States, after a fashion, the 
 exact details of which I do not at present incline to go 
 into ; but take them for granted on the testimony of old 
 Paris Gardiner, who, in my boyhood, lived in a house 
 that until very recently stood in dilapidated condition 
 on the extreme north end of Hardscrabble, on the south 
 and west side of the Little Rest road before referred to 
 as separating that once God-forsaken district of country 
 from ' ' Old Brit. ' ' It would seem from Mr. Gardiner's 
 veracious narrative, that previous to the election of the 
 elder Adams to the Presidency, a most veracious stump 
 
 C 232 ] 
 
SEVENTEENTH BAKING 
 
 orator from Providence addressed the old Britoners 
 and Hardscrabblers, on which occasion, after inform- 
 ing his audience how much he had been impressed 
 with the venerableness and extraordinary intelligence 
 of the countenances and faces of the assembly before 
 him (some of which, he said, seem to inherit the dust 
 of ages), and severally comparing them individually 
 to the Nestors, Ciceros, Diogeneses, Alexanders, Jul- 
 ius Caesars, &c., of antiquity, the orator hesitatingly 
 informed his listeners, that he felt he could impart 
 to such intelligent citizens as those before him a pro- 
 found secret known to but a very few persons in North 
 America, which, when learned, could not fail to con- 
 vince every independent freeman present, who had 
 any regard for the honor and well-being of his coun- 
 try, how immensely in all respects John Adams, the 
 profound and fearless patriot and full-blooded Yan- 
 kee, exceeded in every possible respect his competitor, 
 Tom Jefferson, for the Presidency, who, to make the 
 best of him, was nothing but a mean-spirited, low- 
 lived fellow, the son of a half-breed Indian squaw, sired 
 by a Virginia mulatto father, as was well known in the 
 neighborhood where he was raised, wholly on hoe cake 
 (made of coarse-ground Southern corn), bacon, and 
 hominy, with an occasional change of fricasseed bull- 
 frog, for which abominable reptiles he had acquired a 
 taste during his residence among the French in Paris, 
 to whom there could be no question he would sell his 
 country at the first offer made to him cash down, should 
 he be elected to fill the Presidential chair. With this 
 exordium to commence with, the veracious speaker 
 apologized for venturing to remind his auditors of a 
 C 233 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 fact; he said that men of their intelligence each and 
 all already knew better than he did, that the treaty of 
 peace between Great Britain and the United States was 
 concluded and signed at Paris on the 30th of Novem- 
 ber, 1782, by John Adams (the present candidate for 
 election to the Presidency), Benjamin FrankHn, John 
 Jay, and Henry Laurens, the American commissioners 
 on the one side, and Richard H'Oswald, Esq., on the 
 Britisher's side, old John Bull Math his characteristic 
 pomposity and swelling Turkey gobbler self-conceit, 
 holding that one Englishman was equal to any four 
 Yankees, with something to spare to boot. After many 
 days* discussion of the preliminaries of peace, with- 
 out much, if any, prospect of the parties agreeing, the 
 eloquent speaker said that old John Adams drew up 
 a treaty with his own hand, which he first submitted to 
 his brother commissioners, who, approving of every 
 word it contained, one and all signed on the spot. 
 Adams then laid the document before i/' Oswald^ after 
 reminding him that four out of five of the disinter- 
 ested commissioners had voluntarily signed the treaty, 
 and he, H'Oswald, must also put his fist to it, or 
 engage with him in a single fight. H'Oswald, who 
 was a burly Englishman, twice as fat and rotund as 
 Adams, declared flatly that he never would sign so one- 
 sided a contract, and flinging off"his coat, defied Adams 
 to decide the question by a simple round of fisticuffs. 
 Nothing loth, continued the stump orator, the brave 
 and plucky Adams at once off" with his coat, vest, and 
 pants and set upon H'Oswald with all the fury of a 
 wild-cat. For some minutes both parties held their 
 ground about equal, but Adams unfortunately chanced 
 [ 234 ] 
 
SEVENTEENTH BAKING 
 
 to place the sole of his heavy cow-hide boot on a piece 
 of orange peel that old Ben Franklin happened to drop 
 on the unsanded floor, he slipped, when Dick H' Oswald 
 tripped him and fell with his whole heavy carcass 
 directly atop of his antagonist. Old Ben now felt he 
 had a duty to perform, and instantly casting away the 
 part of the orange he still held in his hand, a piece of 
 the peel of which had caused his brother commission- 
 er's overthrow, he dove head-foremost right on top of 
 Dick, and clinching him by both shoulders, set out to 
 drag him offof his prostrate friend, and would no doubt 
 have succeeded had not Jay and Laurens seized each 
 a leg of Franklin as they shouted, "Fair play, Ben," 
 and pulled him off of H'Oswald's back, but not until 
 Ben had the presence of mind to snatch from the big 
 broad cuff of his home-made sheep-gray diplomatic 
 coat, the identical brass pin, three and one-half inches 
 in length (which for the first nine months of his life 
 he had used to hold his breeches up — said pin having 
 been presented to Ben through his own written request 
 by his mother when he was in his third year, and worn 
 as a keepsake in the cuff of his coat ever since) , which 
 brass pin old Franklin quick as thought now stuck 
 full half its length right into the centre of H'Oswald's 
 fat buttock. ' 'As you all well know, my most respected 
 and intelligent hearers," continued the speaker, "the 
 weather in that northern clime is always at that season 
 of the year as hot as blazes, and mosquitoes are as thick 
 and thirsty as you ever saw them in July on a salt marsh 
 in Rhode Island, with an occasional gallinipper as big 
 as a cockroach among them. These little stinging var- 
 mints had lighted in swarms on the scarified portions 
 
 C ^35 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 of the two combatants during their ''blood and ''ouns'' 
 struggle, and greatly tormented them, and now when 
 Ben stuck his brass breeches pin full two inches into 
 Dick's buttock, the terrified Briton fotched a spring 
 three feet high, accompanied by a thrilling exclama- 
 tion, 'A gallinipper, by Gauhd.'' It was now Adams' 
 chance, who, clinching Dick H' Oswald as he fell back, 
 dexterously turned him right side down and put the 
 licks into his smellers and peepers right and left, until 
 blood spurted in streams from the haught)'- Britisher's 
 nose, and both his peepers w eve bunged up as tight as 
 the port-holes of a man-of-war in a hurricane, when, 
 finding it was no go, Dick sung out, ' Nuhff, ' and with- 
 out further parley or ado, signed the treaty with his 
 own blood (Adams kindly guiding his hand) , together 
 with a separate codicil, in which he shwore by all the 
 roast beef and plum pudding there then was or ever 
 should be thereafter in H ' old H' England, that he would 
 never deny his signature nor go back on his conqueror, 
 the veritable doughty John H' Adams, who is, now 
 let me say to this distinguished assembly, a candidate 
 for the Presidencv of the United States of America, in 
 opposition to that frog-eating thief and Farlez-vous 
 rapscallion, Tom Jefferson of Virginia." 
 
 "And now, gentlemen," continued the eloquent 
 orator, "let me tell you, upon the honor of a Rhode Is- 
 land and Providence Plantation politician and lawyer, 
 and in the name of Will Shakespeare, the great Rhode 
 Island dramatist, that in the truthful narrative I have 
 pronounced in your presence, I have set down ' naught 
 in malice, naught extenuate,' but have word for word 
 adhered in every respect to the naked truth, with like 
 
 [ 236 :i 
 
SEVENTEENTH BAKING 
 
 fidelity that characterizes all the remarkable facts, anec- 
 dotes, and incidents that are contained in the never- 
 enough-to-be-praised printed tales of the Arabian 
 Nights, and the travels by sea and land of the immor- 
 tal Gulliver and Sindbad the Sailor. So now, gentle- 
 men of Old Brit and Hardscrabble, I leave you to cast 
 your votes in the coming crisis, on the results of which 
 hangs the destiny of our beloved country and the world 
 at large, just as becomes intelligent and incorruptible 
 freemen like yourselves." 
 
 At the conclusion of the speech it was unanimously 
 voted by the assembled freemen present, that any Old 
 Britoner or Hardscrabble freeman who should not vote 
 for the glorious John Adams at the coming election 
 ought to be deemed guilty of treason and shunned by 
 all his neighbors accordingly, whilst in case any in- 
 dividual or individuals should dare to vote for that half 
 Injun, half nigger, half Frenchman, with a touch of 
 the bull-frog, Tom Jefferson, he or they should be rode 
 on a green split chestnut rail, sharp side up. The con- 
 sequence was, that when ^lection day came round, 
 every freeman in Hardscrabble and Old Brit went to 
 Little Rest and cast their ballots to a man for John 
 Adams, which with the aid of manipulation^^ known 
 only to President and Governor-makers, turned the 
 scale in favor of John Adams, who accordingly was 
 declared elected President of the United States of 
 America. 
 
 Old Comstock proceeded with his load of cats on his 
 way to Little Rest until he came to the ' ' John Dock- 
 ray Common," a tract of more than a hundred acres, 
 that used, since my remembrance, to be dotted all over 
 
 [ 237 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 with immense wide-spreading white and black oaks, 
 every one of which, I think (the more the pity), are 
 now gone. Here the old man stopped his horse, and 
 turned him out to bait on the common, ^^ hilst he him- 
 self sat down in the shade of the old ' ' Jimmy Scrib- 
 bins" white oak tree to eat his lunch of jonny-cake 
 and cheese. The cause of this white oak tree being so 
 called was after this wise : Old Jimmy Scribbins, as I 
 have before hinted in the matter of the yaller-breasted 
 broiled eels at my grandfather's breakfast table, was 
 a man of childlike simplicity, and although almost 
 wholly ignorant of the -v^ays of the world, he was, 
 nevertheless, a most eloquent preacher in the Society 
 of Friends, thus exemplifying the truth of those say- 
 ings in Scripture that ' ' Out of the mouth of babes and 
 sucklings I will perfect praise," and again. He has 
 ' ' chosen the weak and foolish things of earth to con- 
 found the wise," or words of similar import. Now it 
 so happened that whilst riding one day, Jimmy was 
 seized with so violent a toothache that he dismounted 
 and holding his horse by the reins, sat him down in 
 the shade of this identical tree. The pain of his tooth 
 became so intense that he finally thought he must die 
 on the spot, when it occurred to him that it might be 
 thought he had died through drunkenness and thus 
 bring reproach not only on his own good name but on 
 that of the Society of Friends; he (Jimmy) took a piece 
 of white chalk from his pocket and wrote in large let- 
 ters on the smooth bark of the white oak, ' ' James Scrib- 
 bins died of the toothake! " After a while the pain 
 abating, the simple-hearted old man mounted his horse 
 and rode away, never thinking to rub out the chalk 
 C 238 ■} 
 
SEVENTEENTH BAKING 
 
 marks, which remained until they were effaced by the 
 rain. Old Jimmy used to live with my grandfather, 
 with whom, as before said, he was a great favorite, 
 because of his honesty and simplicity. I could tell many 
 anecdotes of him, but will relate a couple only, and 
 then proceed to finish up Cat Story No. 2, preparatory 
 to telling how Phillis, &c. (for short). One day while 
 Jimmy was putting up a gap in the wall on my grand- 
 father's farm, adjoining the Tower Hill, old Post road, 
 that used to be the main thoroughfare since my and 
 old Ben Franklin's remembrance between Boston and 
 Philadelphia, there came riding by Parson Romain, 
 a proud, fat, and sleek-skinned priest of the Church of 
 England. The Right Reverend reined in his horse as 
 he came opposite Jimmy and said, " Scribbins, how 
 many tons of pudding and milk does it take to make 
 one rod of stone wall? " Jimmy, who had just raised 
 a heavy stone from the ground, held it poised in both 
 hands whilst he turned his head a little awry and, 
 looking straight in the Parson's face, replied, "Just 
 as many as it takes hireling priests to make one gospel 
 minister! " Romain passed on to the south-west with 
 nary another word! On another occasion my grand- 
 father had a very noted English female public friend 
 (ministers among Friends being called public friends) 
 to dine with him in company with her traveling com- 
 panions. She was very neatly attired (as Quakers al- 
 ways are), and sat down to dinner in a broad, capacious 
 apron as white as the driven snow. Jimmy Scribbins 
 happened to be seated next to her on the right. Scarcely 
 had the old man begun to eat his dinner, when chan- 
 cing to look downward he fancied he saw a corner 
 
 C 239 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 of his shirt sticking out from one side of the falls of 
 his leather breeches, which buttoned tightly with three 
 buttons, two of them being made of Spanish pistareens 
 and the other (the middle one) of a Spanish quarter of 
 a dollar (as was common in those days), all of which 
 he had securely fastened on with wax ends. Again 
 and again as the uneasy Jimmy looked slily downward 
 his eyes still fell on the strayed flap of his shirt, not- 
 withstanding his repeated efforts to tuck it into place. 
 Jimmy had stuflfed his breeches to their uttermost lim- 
 its with the apparently endless shirt-flap and sat in 
 an indescribable state of confusion and bewilderment, 
 thinking at times that he was really possessed by the 
 Devil. When at length the time came to rise and leave 
 the table, Abe, who I have before mentioned in these 
 papers, stood back of the English public ministering 
 friend, and when she rose to go, that born son of Sa- 
 tan, for some devilish cantrip known only to himself, 
 snatched with a jerk the chair from behind her. She, 
 on finding herself unable to straighten fully up, went 
 through the motion of resuming her seat, but in con- 
 sequence of Abe's deviltry, the English public female 
 friend fell flat on her back, dragging Jimmy at the 
 same time with her to the floor. My grandfather com- 
 ing to the rescue, it was soon discovered that Jimmy 
 Scribbins had mistaken a. corner of the white apron of 
 the English public female friend for the flap of his own 
 shirt, and in his frantic endeavors to hide it, had forced 
 more than two-thirds of the English public female 
 friend's capacious apron beneath the falls of his leath- 
 ern breeches. 
 
 [ 240 ] 
 

 
 Eighteenth Baking 
 
 WHEN old Comstock had finished his lunch of 
 jonny-cake and cheese, he harnessed up Dob- 
 bin and jogged along the road with his eight bags of 
 cats (lOO all told) towards Little Rest, leaving Gavitt- 
 town half a mile to the left, where old Daniel Gavitt 
 and his three brothers lived when I was a boy, the 
 said Daniel being a Rhode Island freeman voter of such 
 incorruptible integrity and sterling independence, espe- 
 cially in the matter of casting his vote at elections M^hen 
 Governor John Potter or any of his political friends 
 were up for office, that the aforesaid Governor was in 
 the practice for many years of annually sending his 
 friend Gavitt an ox-cart load of salt hay, because, as 
 he was often heard to remark, he (Daniel) was never 
 known to go astray from the right path in the exercise 
 of the inestimable right of suffrage, let the "charmer 
 C 241 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 on the wrong side charm never so wisely." And so on 
 by old Jim Knowles' gambrel-roofed brick house, who 
 for many years in the good old time underbid all other 
 purchasers of the '"''poorofthe town'''' at the annual sale 
 of the town paupers at vendue to the /owe^? bidder, and 
 as a general rule, fed and treated them as well as he 
 could afford, except when ' ' Jim Knowles ' ' came home 
 from some doings at Little Rest, drunk, when all the 
 said town poor had to do was to keep out of their keep- 
 er's way until he sobered again; and so on to "Tom 
 Rodman's^* corner," the said Tom, though the keeper 
 of a New England molasses rum grog-shop, being one 
 of the most honest men in South Kingstown, with a 
 stiff leg without joint, which, when he rode, stuck out 
 from the side of his horse at a right angle, said horse 
 having learned by long practice, as I have often wit- 
 nessed, to bear or sheer away, first to one side of the 
 road and then to the other, to intercept Tom's incline 
 and keep him from falling off his back (which Tom 
 never did except when he happened to be sober), as in 
 his maudlin condition he first leaned one way and then 
 the other at an angle of forty-five degrees and some 
 minutes, the bone of Tom's leg having been rotted 
 clean away by what the doctors then called, and which 
 allopath diplomats still call a fever sore, made then as 
 now, in every known instance, by the stupid malprac- 
 tice of the death-dealing fraternity of Antediluvian Fos- 
 silists, who are now plotting the destruction of all heal- 
 ers of disease, not (as I fearlessly aver in the name 
 of justice and truth) because the quack healers (as the 
 diplomatists arrogantly call them) kill as they assert, 
 but for the reason that they cure, and more than all 
 
 [ 242 ] 
 
EIGHTEENTH BAKING 
 
 others, the thousands of spirit healers who are now re- 
 storing to health numberless sick and ailing persons 
 after they have been pronounced incurable by the regu- 
 lar M.D. '^, through the laying on of hands, a mode of 
 heahng practiced by Jesus and prescribed to His fol- 
 lowers by Him as a test of discipleship, the immense 
 success of which in the present day having raised the 
 ire of the regular diplomatist practitioners to so great 
 a pitch that they have already obtained the passage 
 of laws in many states making mediumistic healing 
 and natural bone-setting crimes punishable with fine 
 and imprisonment under provisions of insidiously con- 
 structed laws, which would, were Jesus to return to 
 earth to-day and heal a poor sufferer of an issue of 
 blood or other infirmity as of old, cause Him to be cast 
 into prison and subjected to a fine ; the said house where 
 Tom Rodman used to live having been occupied some 
 years "previously by Doctor Sangrado, a Connecticut 
 human blood-swilling allopath, who was never known 
 in a single instance, so far as I am informed, to gain 
 access in the line of his hell-born profession to a family 
 in the county of Washington, without sending with his 
 lancet, opium, blue pills, Dover's powders, and scores 
 of other murdersome mineral compounds and poisonous 
 drugs, aided by the foul air of unventilated rooms, in 
 which the stink of an hundred vials with as many Latin 
 labeled boxes and packages of doctors' compounded 
 poisons, ascended or descended towards death, just as 
 the foul elements could find their way through un- 
 chinked crannies in the walls or floor of the room, 
 always closely sealed (by Sangrado's order), with not 
 a drop of fresh water even being permitted to cool the 
 
 C 243 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 parched lips and burning veins of the sufferer by the 
 express commands of the same infernally-educated 
 fool, who was used by his master the '"''Dragon^'''' to 
 fool still greater fools than himself and lead the way to 
 "dusty death," from one to five of his so-called pa- 
 tients in every family, until he and other doctors like 
 him had, by their legalized murders, decimated half 
 a county, when at last "Shepherd Tom" and a few 
 other fearless men of common sense succeeding in 
 convincing the survivors in Narragansett that the fall 
 fever, then dubbed typhus and now typhoid by the 
 M.D.'s, that was then deemed to be, with scarcely 
 an exception, a fatal malady, was altogether caused by 
 the malpractice of Sangrado and his bleeding com- 
 peers, upon which discovery Sangrado was forced by 
 the public indignation to leave Narragansett and flee 
 back to Connecticut (the Devil's own state), where he 
 succeeded in making a meagre living by persuading 
 enough priest and doctor ridden patients to consent to 
 be sent to their graves through his administering (as 
 all the allopaths are still doing) doses of soothing but 
 life-destroying morphines, opiates, and other mineral 
 compounds and drugs which are measurably as de- 
 structive to life as was that of the now exploded lancet ; 
 not exploded, let me say, by the doctors, but rather sub- 
 mitted to by them in deference to and perforce of, a 
 more enlightened public opinion, for I (Shepherd Tom) 
 fearlessly assert that although the "leopard may 
 change his spots and the Ethiopian his skin," never 
 was there on earth since Mother Eve bit the apple, an 
 organized body of Doctors of Medicine or of Divinity 
 who were ever known to depart an iota from the rules 
 
 [ 244 ] 
 
EIGHTEENTH BAKING 
 
 of practice or belief laid down in their mediaeval books, 
 unless in instances wherein the change was forced 
 upon them by Outside Quacks and accursed reformers ! 
 Now that I have recovered my breath after the fore- 
 going tolerably lengthy but just anathema, I will con- 
 tinue my narrative of old Comstock's journeying with 
 his eight bags of cats (one hundred in number all told) 
 by remarking that some half mile south and west of the 
 Tom Rodman corner, and beyond Sot's Hole, com- 
 mences what is called the ' ' ministerial woods, ' ' which 
 extends through Hardscrabble to Tuckertown, a dis- 
 trict of country that used in my boyhood to be pretty 
 much peopled by the family of Tuckers, the house of 
 Nathan Tucker, one of the very best, most venerable- 
 looking, and most patriarchical men that ever lived 
 anywhere^ whether in modern or ancient times, being 
 situated near the north-eastern, white, sandy shore of 
 Worden's pond, more generally called "the Great 
 Pond," because of its bigness when compared with 
 Tucker's pond, and the half-score or more of other 
 laurel-enveloped and clear water lakes that abound in 
 what is known as "the Hills," one of the most pic- 
 turesque districts in Rhode Island, where the fairies 
 used to congregate and dance by moonlight in the olden 
 time when the gods and goddesses made Atlantis their 
 summer abode, and where, on the bushy borders of 
 Worden's pond, great yellow otters used to harbor 
 since my remembrance, one of which short-legged 
 quadrupeds once run across my path as I was riding 
 on my gray mare along the borders of the said Worden's 
 pond, and plunged into the water, after which all I saw 
 of the cunning creature was just the tip of his nose 
 [ 245 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 making rapidly from the shore, said nose not looking 
 bigger than a black Mexican bean, and after a minute 
 or so, causing no more wake or ripple on the water than 
 if it had been a small fly swimming on the surface; 
 Joshua Tucker, the patriarch of all the Tuckers (then 
 a proverbially honest, tribal family of Old Narragan- 
 sett), living a mile further south of Nathan on the 
 northern shore of Tucker's pond, abounding with a 
 thousand beauties and also with yellow perch. The said 
 Joshua being the same true Christian who during the 
 famine caused by the cold season of 1816, when ice 
 made throughout New England in every month of the 
 year save July, thus destroying all the corn crop except 
 what grew on the immediate sea-shore of the favored 
 Atlantis (the former summer home of the gods), where 
 the balmy breezes from the Gulf Stream protected the 
 plant from the frost for some rods back from the salt 
 water, who (Joshua) had his crib full of last year's crop 
 of corn, which he dealt out by the peck or half bushel 
 (never more at one time) to the poor, exclusively, at 
 the usual price it commanded when there was a full 
 crop, which price was less than half of what corn 
 brought in that famine year at wholesale ; said ' ' minis- 
 terial woods " being so called because some poor priest 
 or rather minister-hell-scared sinner bequeathed it on 
 his death-bed to the Presbyterian Church, thinking he 
 could thus atone for the sins of his soul by a gift of 
 that he could no longer use himself; whom I have 
 heard Tom R. say, who gets his knowledge of the after 
 life direct from scores of angels, whom I have heard 
 him also say he talks with in person face to face, as 
 Moses did \vith God as naturally as with mortals, and 
 
 C 246 ] ■ 
 
EIGHTEENTH BAKING 
 
 from whom he has learned that if the donor of the 
 "ministerial woods" when in health had e'en just 
 gone some cold day and cut a load of good, sound, 
 white wannut or e'en white oak in said woods, and 
 then with kind and sympathetic interest pervading his 
 heart and soul, yoked up his Lamb and Lion and Duke 
 and Darby, and after nightfall carted and tipped his 
 load of wood at the door of some poor suffering widow 
 woman, who with her orphan children were shivering 
 with cold, unbeknown to her, and come away without 
 saying nary a word about it, that such an act would 
 bring to his soul a greater reward in Heaven than would 
 the building and endowing of every steeple-house in 
 Christendom under the false expectation that he would 
 thereby reap a rich reward in kingdom come. Before 
 leaving the ' ' ministerial, ' ' I will just say that in a small 
 hovel way off in the north-west corner of the forest, lived 
 the old black sibyl or fortune-teller or prophetess or 
 spirit-medium or witch, just as one's fancy might call 
 her (they being all the same), Sylvia Tory, who died 
 at the age of one hundred and four years, who Adam 
 Babcock and Charles Barker (journeyman apprentice 
 to Jonathan N. Hazard, carpenter), together with my- 
 self, went some miles one Sunday afternoon (about the 
 year eighteen hundred and twenty) to see, and get 
 Sylvy Tory ' ' to tell our fortunes (all entire strangers 
 to her), which she did for Charles and me, dwelling 
 upon our future life for an hour or so more in truth 
 than fiction, so far as I at least was concerned, but when 
 she came to Adam Babcock (then in robust health) , not 
 a word could he get from the old shriveled, gray-headed 
 crone save, " Don't you by no means go east," which 
 
 C 247 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Sylvia repeated as often as Adam pressed her to say 
 more, for some half a dozen times, without a word's 
 addition or subtraction, "Don't you by no means go 
 east ! ' ' which made Adam mad, but still he offered to 
 pay her his quarter, the same as we did, which she 
 persistently refused to accept, and on my asking the 
 contrary old critter after Adam had gone outdoors, why 
 she would not tell him his fortune, the old witch shook 
 her head oracularly and said that ' ' that young fellow 
 has no fortune to tell ;" and sure enough, when Adam's 
 indentures had expired, a week later, he went straight 
 to New Bedford, some thirty miles due east of Sylvia's 
 hovel, where he sickened in a few days and died a 
 fortnight later. 
 
 And so old Comstock kept on w ith his eight bags of 
 cats (100 in all) until he reached old Paris Gardner's, 
 who lived at the foot of Tefft's hill, just in the hollow 
 adjoining the Genesee woods (where the Narragansett 
 Pier Railroad now runs through them), where I once 
 saw, late in the evening, a great Corpesant (vulgarly 
 called meteor) descend from the heavens and light in the 
 Genesee swamp as big as a cart-wheel, which makes 
 me think of old JefFers, the o/f/^/7/ wheelwright, who 
 used to make first-rate cart-wheels without square or 
 compass, but simply by the rule of ' ' guess and allow, ' ' 
 the aforesaid Tefft's hill being the exact steep place 
 where old Jabe Boss of Hardscrabble (the half black- 
 smith, half carpenter, half cooper, and the other half 
 tinker, who always put the finishing touch to his jobs 
 of whatever sort or kind with a rasp a foot and more 
 in length, with teeth half an inch long) dropped from 
 his horse-cart a jug holding a gallon of sperm oil which 
 [ 248 ] 
 
EIGHTEENTH BAKING 
 
 he was bringing from Thomas S. Taylor's (the store- 
 keeper) on Little Rest to Shepherd Tom's factory in 
 Rocky Brook, to oil wool with, when as he said, hap- 
 pening tohear something behind his cart goingcajunck, 
 cajunck, he looked back and there he beheld Shepherd 
 Tom's sperm oil coming out of the mouth of the jug 
 in gulps just hke as if the jug was seasick, and when 
 he got to it he found the jug empty, all but about the 
 pint of oil he brought to Rocky Brook round about by 
 the way of his own house, where he stopped to get the 
 outside of the jug wiped. The aforesaid Paris Gardner 
 having been elected a member of the ' ' Little Rest Club 
 of Good Fellows," because of his wit, on an occasion 
 when the president of said club twitted him with being 
 such a confirmed liar that he could not speak the truth 
 if he tried to ever so hard, upon which the said Paris 
 asked the president of the club what he would bet on 
 that, when the president replied he would put up a 
 quarter with him upon that question, whereupon Paris 
 out with his quarter and said, "I can lie and I can 
 speak the truth, but to tell the truth I would rather lie 
 than speak the truth ! " whereupon the club adjudged 
 that Mr. Garner was entitled to take the stakes for 
 speaking the truth in one instance at least, and in 
 addition received from the president of the club a cer- 
 tificate of membership in consideration of his witty 
 reply. There used to be when I was young, a funny 
 story told of Paris Garner in connection with old Rich- 
 ard Corey, who worked for my grandfather by the day 
 for many years. In going home nights after his day's 
 work was done, Richard used to go through the Wil- 
 son woods, situated about half a mile north-east of old 
 
 C 249 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Benny Rodman's Mill (now Peace Dale), where Rich- 
 ard used to say he once saw a black-snake mor'n twenty 
 feet long, with a carbuncle on his head as big as a tea- 
 kittle. Richard's path lay through a small open space 
 in the Wilson woods, which was some fifty feet across 
 (where probably a coal pit had been once burned), and 
 one night as he entered this cleared spot, a great horned 
 monster, looking and roaring for all the world like 
 a black bull, sprung out of the bushes and grabbed 
 Richard round the middle, telling him that he was the 
 Devil, who had come, he said, to take him to hell in 
 consequence of his being such an abominable liar, 
 who he could bear with no longer ; whereupon Richard 
 begged most piteously to be let go for that time, prom- 
 ising the Devil that he would never lie again, eeny jest 
 so long as he lived, if his Honor would let him go jest 
 for that onct, but still Richard's captor remained deaf 
 to all his prayers until he had dragged his victim way 
 into the middle of the great swamp that lies on the east 
 end of the big Wilson woods, when the Devil relented 
 so far as to tell Richard that he would spare him for 
 that time on condition that he would bring to him 
 at the "Devil's Ring" (as the aforesaid oval-shaped, 
 grassy spot has ever since that time been called, even to 
 the present day), on the next night, a bigger liar than 
 himself, cautioning Richard, however, to beware of 
 agreeing to do what he could not perform, as it would 
 be worse for him in the end if he did, and bidding his 
 terrified prisoner to say whether he could think of any 
 bigger liar than himself in all South Kingstown ; where- 
 upon Richard told the Devil that he didn't know but 
 one bigger liar than himself, and that was old Paris 
 
 C 250 ] 
 
EIGHTEENTH BAKING 
 
 Garner, who lived at the foot of Tefft's hill, who, he 
 thought, was a nitherh\gger liar than himself, and that 
 he knew of a way he could get Paris to come to the 
 spot the next night without fail, whereupon after mak- 
 ing a strange sort of gurgling in his throat that sounded 
 very much like a suppressed laugh, the Devil released 
 Richard on his solemn promise that wi/ii nilli he him- 
 self would be on the spot the next night either with 
 or without old Paris Garner, the biggest liar in South 
 Kingstown, as he (Richard) asserted and believed. 
 Now, as every well-informed man in South Kings- 
 town knows, the old Thomas B. Hazard big house 
 that lately stood on the east side of the old mill-pond 
 (now the Wakefield mill-pond) was in the olden time 
 a great resort for the pirates that used to infest the 
 American and West India seas (which, by the by, re- 
 minds me that Old Nailer Tom Hazard used to show 
 me several pieces of weapons of war that had been 
 plowed up near his house, among others the brass 
 handle of a broadsword on which the name of Arte- 
 mus Gould, pirate captain or mate, was inscribed), 
 among whom was the famous Captain Kidd, who, as 
 is well known, was in the practice of burying his treas- 
 ures along the American coast in holes dug in the 
 ground, with which he always buried one of his men 
 (generally a nigger, because they are the most honest), 
 to keep guard over it. I remember well when I was a 
 boy seeing a great hole in the Wilson woods, where it 
 was said, guided by a dream, old Jim Wilson got a 
 heap of gold, and so the next day old Richard Corey, 
 instead of going to work to my grandfather's, posted 
 himself to old Paris Garner's and told him that he, too, 
 
 c 251 :: 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 had a dream, and had dug down in the place until he 
 reached the nigger's bones that old Capt. Kidd buried 
 with his keg of gold, and being afraid to touch said 
 bones, he had come to get him (old Paris) to go with 
 him to the Wilson woods and get the gold, promising to 
 give him half of the kegful if he would jest go down 
 with him that night and take the nigger's bones from 
 off on top of it; but old Paris (who, by the by, was the 
 very Devil himself, dressed up in a bull's hide, that 
 played the trick on Richard) flatly refused to go with 
 Richard, for the reason, as he said, that he, Richard, 
 was so big a liar that neither he nor anybody else could 
 believe a word he said ; whereupon Richard went home, 
 and from that time forward, instead of going and re- 
 turning from my grandfather's by the shorter way of 
 the Wilson woods, he always took a roundabout way 
 further to the south, where there were no woods in his 
 path. 
 
 Now it so happened that just after old Comstock 
 passed the house of old Paris Garner, and got opposite 
 old Adam Gould's, on the other side of the road, he 
 met his contractor, 'Lisha Garner, who, hearing that 
 Comstock was bringing his load of cats as he had 
 agreed, to Joe Runnell's on Little Rest, set out to meet 
 him on the way, when he no sooner saw the bags of 
 cats in Comstock 's horse-cart than he (Garner) ex- 
 pressed a wish to look at one of the full-grown cats 
 to see whether they were mercantile cats, such as he 
 had contracted with Comstock to deliver for one dollar 
 per cat (lOO all told), whereupon the old man (Com- 
 stock) carefully untied the mouth of the bag and took 
 therefrom a big tom-cat, which he carefully handed 
 
EIGHTEENTH BAKING 
 
 to Garner to inspect, as he (Garner) had requested; 
 whereupon the said tom-cat manifested a disposition to 
 bite Garner with his teeth and scratch him with his 
 claws, which caused Garner, as he averred, to let go 
 his hold of the devilish cross thing ; whereupon said 
 tom-cat immediately darted into an open window into 
 old Gould's front room, upon which old Comstock 
 (poor confiding man) hastily handed the mouth of the un- 
 tied bag to the treacherous Garner to hold close whilst 
 he ran into Gould's front door after the escaped tom- 
 cat. But Garner (who was playing possum all the time) 
 was no sooner left master of the situation than he out 
 with his jack-knife and cut every string that Comstock 
 had tied the bags with, and then nimbly mounting, 
 rode back to Little Rest as fast as his horse could go, 
 whilst poor Comstock, who had entered Gould's house 
 in pursuit of the runaway tom-cat, was suddenly bereft 
 of his understanding, and overcome with consterna- 
 tion, by seeing and beholding every full-grown and 
 half-grown cat come pouring in an unbroken stream 
 into the open inclosure of Gould's front room, and from 
 thence through the open doors and windows into the 
 thickest of the adjoining hundred acre swamp, which 
 extends along both sides of the Genesee run until they 
 are both (the swamp and the brook) lost or merged 
 into the north-east corner of the great swamp, which 
 is bounded for three miles on the south by the afore- 
 said ' ' Worden's "or " Great Pond, ' ' out of the west- 
 ern extremity of which pond proceeds the main branch 
 of the Pawcatuck river, on which near the pond used 
 to stand Holburton's (the Englishman) wool-carding 
 mill, whose son Harry I have heard tell how there was 
 
 C ^5S 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 a fellow by the name of Jim Smith, who lived near 
 Zachary's bridge, not far from their carding mill, who 
 was so cussed bad that "God Almighty couldn't save 
 him if He tried to, ' ' Avhich north-west corner of the 
 swamp is only a mile or two from the little rising mound 
 situated on the north-west corner of said swamp, where 
 the great swamp Indian fight came oif one bitter cold 
 night in 1675, when the noble Narragansett Indians 
 were exterminated , as they were fighting for their coun- 
 try against the combined forces of devilish blue-law 
 Presbyterians of Connecticut, and the cussed witch- 
 drowning and Quaker-hanging Puritans of Massachu- 
 setts, who, after the battle, as I have heard old Daniel 
 E. Updike (who used to keep the A No. 1 tavern in 
 East Greenwich) say, took their prisoners to his grand- 
 father's house (near Wickford) that stood on the side 
 of Smith's block-house, said block-house being the 
 first building of any kind that was put up in King's 
 (now Washington) county by the first white settlers, 
 and the next morning a company of the Puritans and 
 Presbyterian sainted devils (before swearing in their 
 daily morning prayers), took a lively young Indian 
 into the orchard south-east of the house, where, out of 
 pure cussedness, they laid his head on the stump of a 
 tree, and cut it off with his father's chopping axe, — 
 taking with them (the cats) in their hasty flight mor'n 
 a half-dozen nice white perch, which the poor oldnegur 
 Gould had brought home an hour before: the little fish 
 being all his luck that day in his fishing ''bout opposite 
 Gooseberry Island, in Narrow (Pettaquamscutt) Cove, 
 which fish his wife had just finished frying for dinner, 
 which made old Gould dreadful mad with his wife 
 
 C 254 ] 
 
EIGHTEENTH BAKING 
 
 because she had joined the New Light meeting some 
 months before, and he had always told her since then 
 that every old Avoman in that church was a witch, and 
 would be proved to be so before it was over with, which 
 he said had now come to pass, and that every critter 
 that had got into his house that day and carried off 
 the fried fish were no other than the old women who 
 had jined the New Light meeting turned into cats, — 
 which brings to my mind that I have not yet written 
 a chapter on the fish of Narragansett, which of course 
 I ought to and must do, after I finish Cat Story No. 2, 
 before I tell my readers how it came to pass that Phil- 
 lis, my grandfather's superabounding cook, came to 
 be the cause of the French Revolution, and the death 
 of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. 
 
 C ^55 3 
 
Nineteenth Baking 
 
 JIM Syms (an honest old colored man) , who lived in 
 the farther end of the same house as Adam Gould, 
 used to say that as soon as the last cat had scooted out 
 of his west window and disappeared into the Genesee 
 Swamp, old Comstock snatched the new beaver (that 
 he had bought the day before out of his anticipated 
 cat money) off his head and stamped it into the wet 
 ground, whilst he cussed all the 'Lishe Garners, Billy 
 Grays, and journeyman hatters that then were, ever 
 had been, or were to be, for a full half hour, after 
 which partial easement of his mind, the old man got 
 
 I 256 ] 
 
NINETEENTH BAKING 
 
 into his cart and urged Dobbin on his fastest gait 
 toward Little Rest, where, on his arrival, he made an 
 hour's diligent search for Garner without success, that 
 wily cat contractor having, in anticipation of what 
 would follow, concealed his whereabouts until old 
 Comstock had left the village next morning for his home 
 in Newport. After his arrival in Newport, Comstock 
 proceeded to Lawyer Joe Aplin's office, who, for a rea- 
 sonable consideration, after examining the terms of his 
 client's unwritten contract with Garner for the pur- 
 chase and delivery of the one hundred full-grown and 
 half-grown cats (all told), gave it as his professional 
 opinion, that said contract was of too vague a char- 
 acter to be enforced in a Rhode Island Court of Com- 
 mon Pleas, in the absence alike of both documentary 
 and oral testimony, apart from the fact that Cook, the 
 journeyman hatter, being in a measure a party con- 
 cerned, rendered his evidence inadmissible before a 
 jury; at the same time that he w^as not suable him- 
 self as a party (so Comstock said) from the well-known 
 fact that he, the said Cook, was a miserable, unsanc- 
 tified, wandering Massachusetts vagabond, not worth 
 a damn'd copper. So Comstock, from sheer necessity, 
 was forced to submit to the loss of his pig pork and 
 bide his time to get even with Garner, nor was it long 
 before an opportunity occurred to pay the ' ' cat inspec- 
 tor " (as Comstock nick-named Garner) a part of the 
 debt in somewhat like kind. It happened after this 
 wise : Comstock arrived and put up at Joe Runnell's 
 one blustering evening at February Court time, where 
 he found 'Lisha Garner toasting his feet in the " gret- 
 room," he having just returned from a long ride on 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 horseback in the cold. Said Comstock, without stop- 
 ping to compliment, "Mr. Garner, I want you to go 
 right over to Squire Totten's and get a writ to serve 
 on Simon Belcher, who owes me nineteen dollars and 
 ninety cents for a lot of pig pork, and is now stopping 
 at his cousin's in Hopkinton City, on his way to Con- 
 necticut. I want you to go right off airly to-morrow 
 morning, so as to catch Belcher before he gets over 
 the line and out of the jurisdiction of Rhode Island into 
 Connecticut. If you catch Belcher and bring him back 
 with you," continued Comstock, "I will, in consid- 
 eration of the bitter weather and urgency of the case, 
 pay you double fees for your services! " Thus enticed, 
 Garner got his writ of Squire Levi Totten, and early 
 next morning started on horseback in a violent storm 
 of snow, hail, and rain, to serve it on Belcher before he 
 could escape to Connecticut, where he would be safe 
 from Rhode Island law and all other law, except JBlue 
 Law. Late in the evening the deputy sheriff returned 
 to Little Rest w^et to the skin as a drowned rat and 
 shivering with cold, and at once hied himself to Joe 
 Runnell's, where he knew he would find a good blaz- 
 ing fire to dry and warm himself by. When Garner 
 got to Joe's, he found all the ' ' Little Rest Club of Good 
 FelloMs" assembled there, with Comstock in their 
 midst. Said Comstock, on the deputy sheriff's tak- 
 ing his seat, "What luck, Mr. Garner?" "No luck 
 a'tall," chattered out Garner. "I rode all day in the 
 d — d storm, but could n't find nor hear a word of the 
 cussed scamp. ' ' ' ' What sort of a writ did you have ? ' ' 
 asked Comstock. "Why," replied Garner, "as good 
 and regular a writ as was ever served on an abscond- 
 C 258 ] 
 
NINETEENTH BAKING 
 
 ingdebtor." "Ah, "replied Comstock, "there'swhere 
 you made a mistake, Mr. Garner; your writ was not 
 of the right kind." "What kind of a writ," said the 
 deputy sheriff", "should I have had?" "You should 
 have got Squire Totten to have filled you out an Og- 
 watonc/writ," said Comstock. "What sort of a devil 
 of a writ is that? ' ' savagely asked Garner. "An Og- 
 matorial writ," replied Comstock, "is a writ to take 
 a man where he ain't! " The cat was now fairly out of 
 the bag — and amidst a deafening roar of laughter 
 from all the club, 'Lisha Garner hastened out of Joe 
 Runnell's "gret-room," and took himself home. 
 
 Not long after this, Charley Comstock got a sign 
 painted and hung on hinges for his tavern on Ferry 
 wharf, in Newport, on which, as I think I have be- 
 fore hinted, a very life-like picture of 'Lisha Garner 
 was painted, with the words underneath, "^Z?*? cat in- 
 spector. ' ' Comstock also published a little book about 
 the same time entitled a ' ' History of South Kings- 
 town," in which a full account of his dealings with 
 Garner and Cook concerning the one hundred cats, 
 big and little, all told, was narrated, which I have said 
 something about (I think) before. I disremember ex- 
 actly the year in ^vhich Comstock raised his sign, but 
 think it was when I was a small boy of some seven or 
 eight years old, when wq lived for a short time on ' ' the 
 Point" in Newport, I guess about the year 1805. It was 
 just about the time I played truant from school for the 
 second and last time, of which my readers may have 
 heard. It was after this wise: Ike (my elder brother) 
 and I saw some bad boys one day along the shore up 
 by the "Blue Rocks," stoning a young robin that 
 
 I 259 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 they had set in a bush stuck in the ground. To save 
 the Hfe of the poor thing Ike and I gave the boys 
 all the coppers we had, for the poor bird, and on the 
 way home I persuaded Ike to give me his half of the 
 robin. So I got Abe (that born son of the Devil) to 
 make me a little stick cage for my bird, which I care- 
 fully nursed and fed until one morning I found it dead. 
 What it died for I never could tell, for I stuffed it from 
 morning till night with as many worms and grains 
 of corn as I could cram down its throat, just as the 
 doctors stuff a patient with beef tea, who is dying 
 with a fever of their own making. However, the poor 
 little robin died just as most of the patients of the doc- 
 tors do, and so Abe and I concluded to bury it in one 
 corner of the ship-yard, after breakfast, Abe to preach 
 the funeral sermon from Lamentations in. 52 : *' Mine 
 enemies chased me like a bird." Now it so happened 
 that Abe was so long making up his sermon that the 
 time came for me to go to school, and mother sent Mar- 
 garet down where I was digging Robby's grave to 
 tell me I must start right away to school else I should 
 be too late ! This made me mad, and instead of keep- 
 ing on my M^ay to school, I stopped side of the ship- 
 yard, just in a corner made by the east end of the fire 
 engine house and the south fence of the ship-yard, 
 north of the William Hunter house, and made up my 
 mind to stay there, happen what might, until school 
 was out and then hasten home and bury Robin. There 
 I stayed and stayed until it seemed to me as if forty 
 years had gone by, and yet I saw no boys returning 
 from school. At length, grown desperate with long 
 waiting, I crept out to the corner of the street just as 
 
 C 260 ] 
 
NINETEENTH BAKING 
 
 old Sci Robinson was passing, and said, in a half whis- 
 per, "Uncle Sci, it 's past twelve o'clock, ain't it?" 
 How the old nig found me out I can't tell, but he hol- 
 lered loud enough to be heard a mile: "Ah! you ras- 
 cal, you're playing truant! " which made me shiver 
 and shake all over. I will just say here in parenthesis, 
 that old Scias was one of my great-uncle Thomas 
 Robinson's negroes, who was just the Grossest old crit- 
 ter that ever lived, although he was always treated with 
 the utmost kindness by his master and mistress. Aunt 
 Sally Robinson always made Sci's shirts with her own 
 hands, and one day after she was seventy years old, 
 she made Sci four new linen shirts and called him into 
 the ' ' gret-room ' ' to give them to him. Said she, ' ' Sci, 
 I am growing old, and I fear these are the last shirts 
 I shall ever be able to make for thee." Sci examined 
 the shirts carefully, one by one, and then grumbled 
 out, ' ' Where 's the patches ? ' ' That was all the thanks 
 Aunt Sally then got from Sci or ever did get from him ! 
 But this is not here nor there to the cat story, and so 
 I will proceed : When Sci guessed so right about my 
 playing truant, it struck me to the heart just as if I 
 had been shot, and I again slunk back to my former 
 stand by the engine house — where I stayed as it seemed 
 to me for another forty years, when concluding all the 
 boys must have gone home from school some other 
 way, I too proceeded home, and on entering the " sit- 
 ting room' ' M^here mother was sewing, with my guilty 
 eyes fixed on the clock , I said , " It ' s past twelve o'clock , 
 ain't it, ma?" It lacked still a quarter of noon, and 
 so I was blowed. I and Abe, however, buried Robin, 
 whilst mother stood at the window and listened to the 
 C 261 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 funeral sermon. I think she was somewhat aiFected by- 
 Abe's touching words, for before I started for school 
 after dinner, she gave me a note to hand to old Clark 
 Rodman, the Quaker preacher school-master, which 
 he read and never said nary word to me about play- 
 ing truant. But I had got enough of that pastime, 
 and never after, in all my school days, was tempted to 
 repeat it. And here I can't help but say, that I more 
 than half believe in the judgments of God, for of the 
 five boys that were stoning the poor little young robin 
 to death, I know that three of them have since died 
 violent deaths, whilst of the remaining two, one died 
 in jail and the other in a poor-house. Talking about 
 schools, I don't remember of there being more than 
 three in Newport when I was a small boy, though 
 doubtless there were more. Suky Wickham kept one 
 for very small boys and girls, I think, not far from the 
 State House, in a little cross street running from the 
 Parade to Marlboro' street. Old Clark Rodman kept 
 another school for the bigger boys and girls somewhere 
 a little south of the Parade and east of Thames street. 
 Green Carr was the bully of Clark Rodman's school, 
 and was always a leader of the boys of that school in 
 their fights with the big boys of "Tower's school," 
 who used to set themselves up for gentlemen. (I will 
 just say here in parenthesis, that old Clark Rodman 
 was much given to absence of mind. He was a Quaker 
 preacher, and sat on the high seat next below old 
 Bishop David BufFum, father of the late David BufFum, 
 and grandfather of the present Thomas Buifum, who 
 lives by the two-mile corner, near Newport. Clark was 
 very careful to get to meeting betimes, and one Sun- 
 
 C 262 ] 
 
NINETEENTH BAKING 
 
 day morning he was seen bustling in a great hurry all 
 about the house with a boot in each hand, complain- 
 ing that he should be late to meeting, because he could 
 not find the bootjack to put his boots on with.) Boys 
 used to have jolly times in Newport, them days. I re- 
 member when a lot of big boys used to stand at the 
 north-east corner of the Parade and Thames street (then 
 called Vaughn's corner), with the bosoms of their shirts 
 pulled out and full of frozen snow-balls, and pelt as 
 many passing, well-dressed women and dandy-looking 
 boys as they were a mind to, there being no bespan- 
 gled, blue-coated policemen in those days to interfere 
 with their innocent sport. They used to have glorious 
 fights, too, them days. Newport was then divided into 
 four boys' quarters ; the "up-town boys " owning the 
 north-east part of Newport, the " over-to-The-Point 
 boys " the north-western part of the town, called then, 
 as now, The Point; the "Long-wharf boys" living 
 on the Long Wharf, and the "down-town boys" in 
 the southern part of the town. Free Mayberry (still 
 living) was the bully of The Point boys ; Jim Shaw, 
 of the up-towners ; Ned Allen, of the Long Wharfers ; 
 and Green Carr, of the down-towners. There used to be 
 a ditty song with four lines in those days in vogue that 
 was a favorite among all the boys except the ' ' Long- 
 Wharf ers." The words, when the lines were repeated 
 by the "over-to-the-Point Boys," of which I was one, 
 run thus: 
 
 "The up-town bullies, 
 The down-town brats, 
 The over to the Point gentlemen 
 And the long- wharf rats." 
 
 I 263 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 As sung by the up-town boys : 
 
 "The over to the Point bullies, 
 The down-town brats, 
 The up-town gentlemen, 
 And the long- wharf rats." 
 
 Again, as sung by the down^towners : 
 
 "The up-to^vn bullies. 
 
 The over to the Point brats, 
 The down-town gentlemen 
 And the long- wharf rats." 
 
 The reason why the Long-wharf boys did not like the 
 song was, because the rats could not be made to fit any 
 other quarter of the town than the Long Wharf where 
 they belonged. Consequently the " gentlemen " could 
 never become the distinguishing burden of the song 
 when applied to the Long Wharf. In those blessed days, 
 all that M^as necessary to get up a regular row was for 
 the boys of any quarter of the town to parade of an 
 evening in another quarter singing the song with the 
 "gentlemen" hne applied to themselves, whereupon 
 the bully of the invaded quarter M'ould summon his 
 forces and fist fight the insolent foe until one side or the 
 other cried ' ' Nuff, ' ' when the combatants would cease, 
 often with bloody noses on both sides almost without 
 exception. It used to be thought that the great naval 
 victory won on Lake Erie by Commodore Perry and 
 his first officer, Daniel Turner (both Newport or Nar- 
 ragansett boys), was greatly owing to the solid fun and 
 capital training Perry's brave tars had been favored 
 with in the street fights I have described, his fleet being 
 largely manned with Newport and Narragansett boys. 
 C 264 ] 
 
NINETEENTH BAKING 
 
 '"Lection day" in Newport, from time immemo- 
 rial, has been the greatest invention in the way of 
 show that was ever got up by any Barnum on earth, 
 whether in ancient or modern times. 
 
 I remember talking many years ago in Paris with 
 Mr. Dennison, our then consul in that city, about the 
 great cities and great spectacles of earth. He told me 
 that when a small boy he went with his father to 
 " 'Lection" in Newport, at which time he was more 
 impressed with the immeasurable magnitude of the 
 town — the magnificence of its streets and buildings, 
 and the splendors of the 'lection scenes and parades, 
 together with the rich and resplendent costumes and 
 semi-regalia of the Governor elect and his suite, as he 
 marched up the parade with drums a-beating, fifes 
 a-playing and colors a-flying — than he had ever been 
 since, although he had visited nearly all the great cities 
 in both Europe and America, and been present in several 
 capitals and witnessed the coronations of Kings and 
 Emperors, besides some Queens. "In fact," said he, 
 "I have never since seen anything that could hold 
 a dipt candle to what I saw on that occasion in New- 
 port, nor do I ever expect to, either in this world or in 
 the world to come." 
 
 In the olden time, every man in Narragansett who 
 could raise money enough to pay his passage to and fro 
 to Newport (which since my remembrance was but 
 twenty cents over the two three-mile ferries), attended 
 'lection, and above all others, holders of office of any 
 and of all grades and degrees. Of course, Deputy 
 Sheriff Elisha Gardiner always attended and saw the 
 Governor take his seat in the gubernatorial arm-chair. 
 C 265 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 It must have been in the spring of 1805-6, that Dep- 
 uty Sheriff Gardiner attended 'lection in Newport for 
 the last time. On that occasion, as he passed up from 
 the Ferry wharf at the lower or down-town ferry into 
 Thames street, he could but observe how exactly like 
 himself was the full-length portrait that swung opposite 
 Charles Comstock's tavern. This caused some uneasi- 
 ness, which was not at all diminished when he saw two 
 or three well-grown boys apparently comparing his 
 own physique with that of ' ' The Cat Inspector ' ' on the 
 tavern sign. He, however, put on the best face he could 
 and marched up to the State House, where he arrived in 
 season to witness the inauguration of the new Governor. 
 Green Carr, the bully of the down-town boys, — where 
 Charles Comstock resided, — was observed to be eyeing 
 Deputy Sheriff Gardiner very closely and peculiarly, 
 as he sat not a great way from the Governor. Green 
 was a great admirer and friend of Comstock, because 
 the old man lived on the Ferry wharf close by where he 
 did, and besides occasionally treated him to a glass of 
 cider for taking some country truck or a traveler's lug- 
 gage from the ferry-boat up to his tavern, and besides 
 this all the down-town boys (Green among the rest) had 
 a patriotic fellow-feeling for Mr. Comstock, because 
 he was a citizen of their quarter of Newport. So what 
 does the bully of the down-town boys (Green Carr) do 
 but to sidle round and tip the wink to Jim Shaw, JVed 
 Allen, and Fr-ee Mayhray, three bullies, severally of the 
 *'up-town," "over-to-the-Point," and "long- wharf 
 boys," and intimate to them, one and all, that the ver- 
 itable "Cat Inspector," whose picture was on Com- 
 stock's tavern sign, was come to town, and then about 
 C 266 ] 
 
NINETEENTH BAKING 
 
 to leave the State House on his way to the ferry-boat. 
 Green Carr's hint to his fellow-buHies was sufficient, 
 and Garner had hardly well got off the State House 
 steps into the street when the four bullies of the four 
 quarters of Newport, each and all raised their respec- 
 tive Cat calls^ that brought around them nearly every 
 rowdy boy in Newport. Nor were they slow in divin- 
 ing the service that was expected from them by their 
 leaders, but immediately surrounded the unhappy 
 deputy sheriff and began action at once. The deafen- 
 ing shouts of "cat inspector" rent the air, while a 
 score of Newport's future heroes would be buffeting 
 or ruffling Gardiner at once — from afore, beside, and 
 behind. The hat of the unfortunate man quickly dis- 
 appeared, and his garments were passing away by 
 piecemeal, while every step he made, amidst showers 
 of fire-crackers let off on his head, in his pockets, be- 
 tween his legs, under his nose, and elsewhere, lighted 
 him on his struggling way until he reached a point on 
 the parade opposite old Charley F Che's ^ the apothecary, 
 who then kept the shop now occupied by Mr. Allen, 
 the druggist, it being, I think, the oldest apothecary's 
 stand in New England, if not in the United States. I 
 may be allowed to just remark here in parenthesis, that 
 I used to know "Charley Feke." His outside form 
 was not much to boast of, he being but a little dried-up 
 looking, crippled body, but then he was, without ex- 
 ception, the largest-souled and truest-hearted man and 
 the best Christian that ever lived in Newport, by a long 
 shot. The old man used to always keep a supply of 
 children's apparel, shoes, &c., secretly stowed away 
 under his counter, and whenever a poor, shivering 
 
 c: 267 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 young 'un, whether boy or gal, came to his shop on 
 an errand, or otherwise — the old man had a way of 
 knowing exactly what they most needed in the matter 
 of clothing, and could also make an exact fit without 
 taking their measure — and so he would, with nary 
 a word, do up the stockings, shoes, or what not, in a 
 bundle and hand it to them just as they were leaving 
 his shop. 
 
 It is true that I do not much believe in monuments, 
 but still I must say, that if the Newport folks should 
 be inclined that way, I think they could do no better 
 than to erect one to "Charles Feke," and place it in 
 Washington square, just a little way east of the foun- 
 tain, opposite his apothecary shop. (In fact, a beautiful 
 stone fountain would be the appropriate design.) I know 
 that I am not a bit mistaken in old Charles Feke's de- 
 servings, for I have heard TomR. (who never mistakes 
 in anything) say that he once asked a spirit who was 
 talking to him through the organism of an entranced 
 medium, who had never heard of Charley Feke, what 
 Feke's condition was in spirit life, who answered him 
 that "Charles Feke was a Christian, and a man of 
 true and unbounded sympathy, charity, and benevo- 
 lence. Although eccentric, he was intelligent and of a 
 deep, affectionate nature, and altogether, a noble, gen- 
 erous soul, who loves his fellow-men, and is one of the 
 most refined spirits that I have seen. He is calm, noble, 
 just, and his deeds of kindness whilst on earth are 
 stars that light him on in his celestial progress." 
 
 Lucky was it that that ' ' cat inspector's ' ' way led by 
 Charlie Feke's shop, who was the only man in New- 
 port for whom his persecutors had sufficient love and 
 C 268 ] 
 
NINETEENTH BAKING 
 
 respect to enable him to rescue the poor tattered and 
 exhausted biped out of their rabble hands. As it was, 
 when the good apothecary approached, all the boys 
 stood aside whilst he led their victim into his shop, soon 
 after which Gardiner's persecutors adjourned to the 
 lower ferry wharf, at the foot of Mill street, calculat- 
 ing to have the balance of their fun out when the cat 
 inspector came down to take the ferry-boat on his way 
 to Little Rest. But in this they were disappointed, for 
 the good Samaritan, probably guessing their design, had 
 the sheriiFs torn and diminished garments removed, 
 and arrayed him in an old Quaker suit of drab (that 
 he happened to have in his house), after which he led 
 Gardiner out by a back way into Duke street, and so 
 down Marlboro' to Thames, and up Thames to Bridge 
 street, and so over to Barton' s wharf, where the' ' Point ' ' 
 ferry-boat happened to be waiting — aboard of which 
 Charley Feke saw poor Gardiner safely deposited and 
 started for Conanicut before he left him. This was the 
 last time Elisha Gardiner, the deputy sheriff and nick- 
 named " Cat Inspector, " ever went to " 'Lection" — 
 nor was it long before he sold his house and lot on 
 Little Rest and departed for some parts unknown in 
 the great West, clean across the Hudson river. 
 
 This ends Cat Story No. 2, thank the good angels 
 — and I have nothing more to do but to write a chapter 
 on Narragansett fishes — before I proceed to show how 
 it came about that my grandfather's never-enough-to- 
 be-admired, venerated, and beloved colored cook, Phil- 
 lis, came to be the remote cause of the French Revo- 
 lution, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoi- 
 nette. 
 
 C ^69 ] 
 
Twentieth Baking 
 
 Now that I have got rid of that everlasting Cat 
 Story No. 2, before commencing on the fish 
 products of old Narragansett, I think it may be well 
 that I should answer a note of inquiry from a "young 
 Rhode Islander," that came to hand more than twelve 
 months ago. It runs thus: 
 My dear and never eiiough to he honored Shepherd Tom: 
 I have read your Jonny-Cake articles with a great 
 deal of pleasure. I notice in the last that Little Rest 
 was once one of the capitals of Rhode Island. Now, 
 I have always wondered why so small a State as 
 Rhode Island had two capitals, and I once asked an 
 old gentleman, a direct descendant of Roger Wil- 
 liams, if he could tell me the reason . He told me there 
 were five capitals in Rhode Island, and he supposed 
 they thought they could get along with two. This is, 
 doubtless, correct ; but the question naturally arises, 
 why were there five ? I think this question would be 
 of interest to many, and, therefore, if it would not 
 be asking too much, could you not explain the mat- 
 ter in some future baking, previous to showing how 
 your grandfather's now if never before celebrated col- 
 ored cook was the remote cause of the French Revo- 
 lution and the death of Louis XVI and Marie An- 
 toinette!" 
 
 If "young Rhode Islander" will turn to Hon. S. G. 
 Arnold's "History of the State of Rhode Island," Vol. 
 i, p. 219, he will find that as early as the year 1648, 
 
 C 270 3 
 
TWENTIETH BAKING 
 
 the General Assembly of Rhode Island and Providence 
 Plantations were clothed with both legislative and ju- 
 dicial powers, which functions were exercised to a 
 certain extent by that body for more than two centu- 
 ries thereafter. Arnold says : " In their judicial capacity 
 they, the General Assembly, were to hear causes in 
 the place where the action arose or the criminal was 
 arrested, and at such times as were appointed by law. 
 Hence, we presume, arose the custom, existing until a 
 recent date, of the General Assembly's meeting in the 
 different chief towns in the State." 
 
 This may have been the reason why Rhode Island 
 used to have so many capitals, but I think there is an- 
 other far more cogent. As everybody on this terraqueous 
 globe knows, or ought to know, by this time, the stal- 
 wart men, who, with Roger Williams, founded Provi- 
 dence and Newport with John Clarke, of whom I am 
 proud to say Shepherd Tom's ancestor, Thomas Haz- 
 ard (whose bones now lie on the west side of the island 
 in Portsmouth, a little north of Lawton's Valley), was 
 one, and also one of the seventeen original proprietors 
 of the island, the first seal of the associate proprietors 
 being " Love is all powerful," were the only men that 
 have ever existed on the earth since the day that mother 
 Eve damned us all by sticking her teeth into the apple 
 that grew on the tree of knowledge, that had a proper 
 conception of the true democratic principles that lie at 
 the foundation of civil and religious liberty. They, our 
 worthy ancestors, were one and all fully imbued with 
 the truisms which with them became primary maxims, 
 that the rights of the many are constantly passing ' ' into 
 
 C 271 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 the hands of thefew," and thatif you "trust men with 
 money they will use it, if with power they will abuse 
 it." It was to prevent such abuses that our wise and 
 considerate forefathers ordained in their polity of gov- 
 ernment that the members of the General Assembly 
 should be chosen in open town meeting once in every 
 six months, a mode of procedure that was in vogue 
 since my remembrance; and further, in order that the 
 freemen in all parts of the state should be enabled to 
 keep watch of their representatives, and see that they 
 stole neither the rights nor money of the people, it was 
 ordained in the charter obtained by John Clark. and 
 others from the rowdy king, Charles II, which, by 
 the by, w^as the best constitution for a real Democratic 
 Republican government that was ever devised by the 
 wisdom of man, that the General Assembly should 
 hold two annual sessions, one at Newport, the capital, 
 in May, at 'lection time, and another session in Octo- 
 ber, the October session to be holden alternately every 
 year in Washington county, at Little Rest, in South 
 Kingstown (which at one time was the heaviest tax- 
 paying town in Rhode Island), at Grinnage, in Kent 
 county, and in the town of Bristol in the county of 
 Bristol. It was also ordained that an adjournment of 
 the October session should be annually accorded as a 
 matter of grace to the village of Providence, w^hich was 
 then, as now, the most populous, compact centre in 
 Providence county. These provisions were all adopted 
 substantially with the state constitution in a conven- 
 tion holden in East Grinnage on the 5th of Novem- 
 ber, 1842, and remained in force until November, 
 
 C 272 ] 
 
TWENTIETH BAKING 
 
 1854, when the village of Providence, having con- 
 siderably increased in population, wealth, and influ- 
 ence, managed to wipe out the October sessions by 
 getting the constitution amended and made to read as 
 follows : 
 
 ' ' There shall be but one session of the General As- 
 "sembly holden annually, commencing on the last 
 " Tuesday in May, at Newport, and an adjournment 
 "from the same shall be holden annually in Provi- 
 "dence." 
 
 It is said that the "Devil's darling vice is pride that 
 apes humility." A better illustration of which is not 
 probably on record than is to be found in the above 
 amendment, in which Providence, in all apparent hu- 
 mility, concedes the capital of the state solely to New- 
 port, and then steals all the capital's advantages and 
 perquisites by a meek, undemonstrative "adjourn- 
 ment" of the General Assembly to Providence. By 
 the wise provision in the charter, the humblest free- 
 man in Rhode Island formerly had an opportunity to 
 attend, as a lobby member, a session of the General 
 Assembly, and learn by actual observation whether or 
 not the member whom he had helped, by his vote, to 
 constitute a representative of the freemen of his town, 
 was faithful to his trust and deserving of his suffrage 
 at the next semi-annual election. In those halcyon 
 times the freemen of Rhode Island were the actual sov- 
 ereigns of the state, the Governor elect being used only 
 as a figure-head (without an iota of power or a copper 
 of salary), to show off" on 'lection day, and fill, with be- 
 coming dignity and repletion, the Rhode Island and 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Providence Plantations' chair of state. Three hundred 
 pounds avoirdupois was about the minimum weight 
 of a Rhode Island governor in my younger days. Gov- 
 ernor Fenner the 2nd, the most weighty and popular 
 governor Rhode Island ever had, I think would much 
 exceed those figures. He was probably the heaviest 
 native Rhode Islander in the state, all but Silas Bab- 
 cock's wife. Silas himself was a gigantic heavy man, 
 but lacked some hundreds of coming up to his wife, 
 who weighed four hundred and forty-four pounds. 
 She always rode a-visiting among the neighbors in an 
 ox-cart, which she filled the whole breadth, so that Silas 
 had to drive the team on foot. Silas Babcock and his 
 wife lived in a very small house on the west side of 
 the road in Pint Judy, half a mile south of the only 
 turn in the road that is just opposite the Nat Arm- 
 strong house. Nat himself was a gigantic man, but 
 not so fat as Joseph Congdon, who lived on the road 
 about half a mile or more south of Silas' house, who, 
 I think, weighed about three hundred and fifty pounds 
 on the codfish scales at the Pier, which he owned at 
 one time. George Congdon, Joseph Congdon's brother, 
 lived about a mile north-east of Silas Babcock, and 
 weighed about twenty -five pounds less than Joseph, 
 who (Joseph) was one of the first to introduce merino 
 sheep into Narragansett, about 1814, from Shelter 
 Island, where he owned a farm. As I think I have 
 before remarked, my brother Ike once met Joseph and 
 George Congdon riding bareback on the same horse. 
 One leg of a compass set on a chimney of Silas Bab- 
 cock's house would sweep with the other, within a 
 
 C 274 3 
 
TWENTIETH BAKING 
 
 mile radius, a circle that would include all the Bab- 
 cocks, Armstrongs, and Congdons that I have men- 
 tioned. This may give the Rhode Island pigmies of 
 the present day some idea from what a point of per- 
 sonal magnitude they have degenerated in two or three 
 generations, brought about simply by their living on 
 tea, gingerbread, and other nicknacks, instead of on 
 milk porridge and jonny-cake, made of Rhode Island 
 white corn meal, carefully ground in Rhode Island 
 granite mills and cooked a la Phillis, as their fore- 
 fathers did. I think Capt. Conner, of the Newport rev- 
 enue cutter, weighed more fifty-sixes than Governor 
 Fenner. But then he was not a native of Rhode Island, 
 and was only fatted on government pap, amidst the 
 balmy Gulf Stream breezes that ever blow in New- 
 port. It was never necessary to signal to know whether 
 Capt. Conner was on board when the cutter lay at an- 
 chor in the harbor, for if he was, the heavy tonnaged 
 craft would be settled very deep astern. 
 
 Returning from this digression I may say that I 
 have seen Governor Fenner the 2nd many times, but 
 never without the accompaniment of his long black 
 tandem whip, with which he could dexterously snap 
 off the head of a mosquito perched on the tip of the 
 leader of his tandem team, without either the horse or 
 the rest of the mosquito being disturbed by the oper- 
 ation. When seated, whether in the chair of state or 
 elsewhere, the Governor always held his whip erect 
 by his side, w^th the long lash gracefully wound round 
 the stock, which was some eight to ten feet in length. 
 The Governor and his long whip seemed inseparable. 
 
 C 275 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 They were, in fact, both parts of the Governor, and it 
 is doubtful whether his election tours through the state 
 before election days would have been half as effective 
 in obtaining votes without his whip as they were with 
 it. I disremember the exact year when I chanced to 
 stop at Daniel E. Updike's tavern in East Greenwich 
 a short time before election day. Governor Fenner, as 
 usual, was a candidate and sat in Updike's front room 
 in a big arm-chair, with his long whip standing erect 
 beside him. There was a crowd of freemen present, 
 and the Governor called for a quart of New England 
 and treated some of his friends. And then came to the 
 front one of those master strokes of political genius that 
 showed the Governor's consummate knowledge of the 
 sublime arts that most influence the masses. Singling 
 out in the crowd a simple-looking wooden-legged man, 
 by the name of Money, who squatted in the farthest 
 corner of the room, Governor Fenner reached out with 
 his long whip and gently tapped the dilapidated pau- 
 per on the head with the lesser end of his whip staff, 
 whilst with its butt end he significantly touched the 
 unfinished tankard of rum, thus indicating that it was 
 meant for him (Money). Instead of feeling themselves 
 slighted by this preference, all others in the room felt 
 flattered by the distinction and murmurs were heard 
 from scores in the crowd: "Yes ! that 's the governor 
 for me! He has some charity for the poor cripple!" 
 What widi the darned temperance societies and the 
 common schools of the present day, such magnificent 
 strokes of policy would probably have but little or no 
 eflfect on the mass of pedantic bookworms who do most 
 of the voting at our town meetings. 
 [ 276 ] 
 
TWENTIETH BAKING 
 
 Money, the wooden-legged man, was something of 
 a character. Besides being crippled, he was quite weak 
 in intellect, and was hardly able to get a living with- 
 out assistance from his neighbors. One year Money 
 planted quite a little patch of corn, which did very 
 well for a time ; but finally, the white worms struck 
 it, and pretty much devoured the young plants, so that 
 at harvest time but little grain was secured. The min- 
 ister of one of the Grinnage churches, whose name I 
 do not now recollect, called, among others, on Money, 
 to sympathize with him on the loss of his crop. Said 
 he, "Mr. Money, it is not well for you to take on so 
 about the loss of your crop of corn; you should remem- 
 ber that the good book says that 'The earth is the 
 Lord's and the fullness thereof,' and that He has a 
 right to bestow what belongs to Him on whom it pleas- 
 eth Him, whether it be men or worms. ' ' This did not, 
 however, quite satisfy the thankless Money. Next 
 year, before harvest time, the minister chanced to call 
 to see Money again, and was a little surprised on learn- 
 ing that he had not planted any corn at all that year ! 
 Upon his asking Money why he had planted no corn, 
 Money told him that he had ' ' concluded to let the 
 Lord feed his own worms that year." Daniel E. Up- 
 dike, who was for several years Rhode Island's State 
 Attorney, and afterwards the proprietor of the old 
 Arnold Tavern in East Greenwich, was, as I have 
 before hinted, decidedly the best story-teller that was 
 ever born in Rhode Island or the world at large. My 
 brother Ike and I used to make it a point to stop at his 
 house overnight on our frequent journeys to Providence 
 and Boston on horseback, just to hear him tell anec- 
 C 277 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 dotes about the people of the olden times. The old man 
 was always neatly dressed in black, with short, plush 
 breeches, silk stockings, and silver-buckled shoes, with 
 a clean, redundant ruffled shirt bosom. He always sat 
 erect in his arm-chair, whilst not the least indication of 
 a smile could be perceived on his countenance, though 
 a room full of guests and neighbors would be convulsed 
 and shouting with laughter at his humorous narratives. 
 Not an incident could be referred to, or a subject 
 mooted by any one present, that the old gentleman (for 
 a true gentleman he was) would not at once seize upon 
 and illustrate it with an anecdote. I disremember the 
 exact evening that I happened to mention my having 
 recently called at a dentist's in Providence: on which 
 Mr. Updike commenced, and told how that the first 
 dentist that he ever knew to come to Grinnage, stopped 
 at his house and put up his card. His first patient was, 
 he said, a strapping young woman, who, upon being 
 shown into the dentist's room, asked what he ?nout 
 charge for cleaning teeth. "I ha ve half a dollar, madam, 
 for purifying teeth," said the man of forceps. "Good 
 gracious! " said his lady customer, "what 's that?" 
 "Purifying means, madam, the cleaning of teeth," 
 said the dentist. "Wal," rejoined she, "I guess my 
 teeth want scrubbing about as bad as Sal Grinnold's 
 or any other gal's in Grimiage; but before I give more 
 than a pistareen to purify them, I '11 let 'em go till I find 
 some feller fool enough to marry me without it." Be- 
 fore the girl left, the dentist pocketed the pistareen. His 
 next customer was a bull-headed teamster from West 
 Grinnage, with jaws as big by nature as an ox's, and 
 
 C 278 ] 
 
TV/ENTIETH BAKING 
 
 now swelled to twice the usual size. Being ushered into 
 the dentist's room, he growled: "I say, you sur, what 
 will you axe for digging out a stump?" "I have," 
 timidly replied the artist, "twenty-five cents for ex- 
 tracting a tooth. ' ' ' ' What in h — 1 is that ! ' ' yelled the 
 countryman. ' ' Extracting a tooth, sir, means the same 
 as pulling a tooth," replied the dentist. " I did n't axe 
 you to pull a tooth, ' ' replied the customer. " I ax'd you 
 what you ax'd to dig out a stump, which ain't more'n 
 half a tooth." Said the dentist, as he flourished in his 
 hand the biggest forceps in his chest : " I have just the 
 same, sir, for taking out a stump that I do for pull- 
 ing a tooth." "You do, do you? " snarled the double- 
 jawed customer. " Wal, I have n't slept with that 
 stump for more'n a week, but I guess I '11 let it jump 
 for forty days longer 'fore I '11 give more'n ninepence 
 to have it dug out." The dentist asked him to take 
 a seat and he would see what he could do for him. 
 After pulling and hauling his roaring customer for 
 some five or ten minutes all around and about the room 
 with his forceps, the dentist finally succeeded in ex- 
 tracting the stump. "Wal," said the relieved coun- 
 tryman, " I 'd meant to gin you ninepence for gitting 
 out that there stump, but you have hurt me so tar- 
 nally bad that I '11 be swow'd if I gin you more than 
 fourpence halfpenny; " when suiting his action to the 
 word, he handed the dentist a silver fourpence half- 
 penny and departed. 
 
 Not prospering much in East Grinnage, the dentist 
 asked Mr. Updike to look him out a cheap conveyance 
 to Nooseneck Hill, in West Grinnage, where some 
 
 C 279 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 wag had recommended him to go in pursuit of cus- 
 tom. The only conveyance that presented itself was an 
 ox wagon, fitted up with a cage-like contrivance of 
 stakes fully ten feet high and less than a foot apart, in 
 which a West Grinnager had brought some hundred 
 or more empty barrels for the Newport market. Seeing 
 no other way to get to his destination, the dentist con- 
 cluded to embrace the only opportunity that presented 
 for his reaching West Grinnage ; and the barrel-cage 
 being brought up to the front door, two of the long 
 side-sticks of the cage were removed, and after the 
 dentist's chest was placed inside, he himself entered 
 and seated himself upon it. The sticks were then again 
 replaced, and the team started on its journey. This, 
 Mr. Updike said, was the last he ever saw of the Provi- 
 dence dentist. But the man who drove the conveyance 
 afterwards called at the tavern, and in answer to Mr. 
 Updike's inquiries, told him that all along the road to 
 Nooseneck Hill, the women and children came out of 
 the houses to inquire whereabouts he was going to 
 have his show. 
 
 General Albert C. Greene, who was decidedly the 
 most popular man that was ever raised in Rhode Island, 
 was a frequent evening visitor at Daniel Updike's. He, 
 too, was a capital story-teller, but he seldom or never 
 attempted to show off in that way in Updike's pres- 
 ence, feeling that all he could accomplish in that line 
 was less than cake and gingerbread when compared 
 with the performances of "mine host." I knew Gen. 
 Albert C. Greene, for, I should think, nearly half a 
 century. He was a perfect gentleman in all respects, 
 
 C 280 3 
 
TWENTIETH BAKING 
 
 nor do I ever remember seeing him ruffled in temper 
 in a single instance. Up to a late period of his life, Gen. 
 Greene was always elected State's Attorney, let what 
 party might succeed to power. He was particularly 
 fond of telling funny anecdotes, in which he himself 
 figured as a butt. I have heard him tell how, on a cer- 
 tain occasion, when there were a dozen different proxies 
 in the field for state offices, one of his country friends 
 called upon him, and with wonder depicted on his coun- 
 tenance exclaimed: "General, I have just seen a prox 
 for the first time in my life without your name in it ! " 
 Another funny story I have heard Gen. Greene tell 
 was of a witness in a case before the Court of Com- 
 mon Pleas, held in East Grinnage, in which Greene 
 was attorney. The testimony of this witness, who was a 
 small farmer living not many miles away, was exceed- 
 ingly damaging to Greene's chent. The fact testified 
 to occurred in the village, and learning that the wit- 
 ness was addicted to drink, Greene essayed to discredit 
 the testimony on the ground that the witness was under 
 the influence of liquor at the time he saw the occur- 
 rences he testified to. So the General began — "Mr. 
 Brown, please state to the jury what time you got into 
 Grinnage that morning? " " Wal, Squire, ' ' answered 
 Brown, "I guess not long arter sunrise!" "Where 
 did you stop first?" asked the General. "Wal, as 
 for that," replied Brown, "I guess I went first to 
 Squire H.'s shop." Said Greene, "Did you take 
 anything to drink there?" "Oh, yes, Squire," said 
 B., "I always wet my whistle when I call at Squire 
 H.'s." " And where did you call next ? ' ' said Greene . 
 
 C 281 ;] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 "I guess I stopped next, Squire, at Capt. S.'s," re- 
 plied the witness. "And did you wet your whistle 
 there?" asked Greene. "I guess I did, Squire," said 
 Brown; "I don't remember ever stopping at Capt. 
 S.'s without tasting his New England." In this way 
 the shrewd attorney led the witness for the other side in 
 succession to nearly every one of the more than dozen 
 grog-shops then in Grinnage, at each of which Brown 
 ' ' guessed he had wetted his whistle. ' ' FeeHng that he 
 now had entire possession of the situation, Gen. Greene, 
 with an air of triumph depicted on his countenance, 
 looked the witness sternly in the face, and said, ' ' Now, 
 Mr. Brown, I w^ant you to look the jury in the face, 
 and tell them how many gills of rum a man can drink 
 of a morning without getting drunk?" This ques- 
 tion seemed for a moment to act as a dumbfounder on 
 the witness, but quickly recovering, Brown looked his 
 exultant questioner blandly in the face as he replied: 
 *' Wal, as for that, Squire, they have got such a pesky 
 way of watering their liquor down in Grinnage, that it 
 is hard telling how many drinks it will take to make a 
 man drunk." Upon this turn of affairs the discomfited 
 attorney left the court room amidst uproarious peals of 
 laughter from the Court, Bar, and Jury. 
 
 Well, now, I think I see the coast entirely clear, 
 after telling all about the fish of old-time Narragan- 
 sett, to wind up without further ado my Cat Story 
 No. 2, and tell my impatient readers how it happened 
 that Phillis, my grandfather's superabounding col- 
 ored cook, came to be the remote cause of the French 
 Revolution and" — Whew — whew — what sort of a 
 
 C 282 ] 
 
TWENTIETH BAKING 
 
 big letter is this just come from the post-office with a 
 superscription as long as my arm! Let 's see: 
 
 Shepherd Tom, 
 
 Vaucluse School District No. 1, 
 South Portsmouth P. O. 
 Town of Portsmouth, 
 Island of Rhode Island, 
 New Port County, 
 
 State of Rhode Island and 
 Providence Plantations, 
 New England, 
 Eastern States, 
 
 United States of America, 
 North America, 
 Northern Temperate Zone, 
 Western Hemisphere, 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 Well, well, if that superscription ain't definite enough 
 to satisfy Mr. Key, our Postmaster-General, I think 
 he must be very hard to suit! Who in the world can 
 the letter be from? Let 's see! 
 
 '■'■North Scituate, i?. /., March 21. 
 ''Shepherd Tom: 
 Dear Sir, Please find enclosed the History of South 
 Kingstown. It will be sent with this note under the 
 address you wished ex-Governor Howard to address 
 you. Hoping it might help you to tell your 'Cat 
 Story No. 2,' we made up our minds to send it to 
 you. 
 
 "Truly yours, 
 
 "Wm. H. Chandler." 
 
 C 283 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Well, well, if that don't beat the Devil! (I liked to 
 have said). How true it is that "man proposes but 
 God disposes. ' ' I was just now boasting that I had got 
 old Comstock and his cats off my hands, and here they 
 have all come back again, and the whole thing is in 
 a manner to be gone over again — for I know my read- 
 ers would never forgive me without giving them a 
 peep into the pages of Comstock 's renowned "History 
 of South Kingstown," so I shall perforce be obliged 
 to an elucidation of this most interesting history, and 
 again defer my fish stories to still another baking, 
 after which, doubtless, I shall proceed and tell how it 
 happened that Phillis, my grandfather's unequaled 
 cook, came to be the remote cause of the French Revo- 
 lution, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie An- 
 toinette. 
 
 C 284 '2 
 
 i 
 
A H 1ST O RY 
 
 OF 
 
 SOUTH-KINGSTOWN ; 
 
 "WITH A 
 
 PARTICULAR DESCRIPTION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 HORNET'S NEST COMPANY, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 CATS LET OUT OF THE BAG : 
 
 By CHARLES COMSTOCK, l.l.d.f.r.s. 
 
 NEWPORT : 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. 
 
 1806. 
 
Twenty-jirst taking 
 
 I HAVE just finished reading the book referred to 
 in my last baking. It is entitled ' ' A History of South 
 Kingstown, ^^ with a particular description of the 
 Hornet's Nest Company and the Cats Let Out of 
 the Bag, By Charles Comstock, LL.D. F.R.S. New- 
 port: Printed for the author, 1806." It is an octavo 
 pamphlet of forty pages. The cat inspector is pictured 
 on the inside of the front fly leaf. He looks to be of a 
 good height and rather thick-set. He is dressed in 
 short, nankeen-looking breeches, tied with a ribbon at 
 the knee, and dark stockings and shoes. His legs are 
 spread considerably apart, thus exhibiting to great 
 advantage a pair of fully developed calves. He wears 
 a broad-brimmed but jaunty-looking hat. He holds a 
 cat by the tail with his left hand, whilst he flourishes 
 a branding-iron with his right. Beneath the picture is 
 printed in italics, ' ' The Cat Inspector. ' ' To show how 
 almost exactly the traditional narrative I have given 
 concerning Cat Story No. 2 agrees with what old Com- 
 stock himself related more than seventy years ago, I 
 will make rather more copious extracts from the His- 
 tory than I might otherwise do, beginning with the 
 preface, which reads as follows: "As there has not 
 been any history given of that town, to my knowledge, 
 and as the inhabitants of it are somewhat singular, I 
 think it necessary that there should be a history of them 
 given, to let the public know what sort of people are in 
 the world (for the world lies in wickedness). And it is 
 necessary that the youth should know this fact in their 
 [ 285 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 early stage of life, in order that they may escape the 
 snares and cheats in this world, which are made to 
 deceive. For this reason I think it necessary to give the 
 following history. ' ' The author of the history evidently 
 does not mean to flatter the people of South Kings- 
 town, but still on the very first page he says, "The 
 people are free hearted in their victuals and drink ; the 
 most so of any part of the world that ever I was in." 
 On the second page occur the following excellent moral 
 lessons : " It is an easy town to get a living in ; some 
 of them get rich ; and I have observed in experience 
 so far through life, that where a place is easy to get 
 a living in, the morals of the people are apt to be 
 corrupted ; for if people are not in some employment, 
 they will soon get into vice. For idleness leads people 
 to drinking, gaming, and other bad habits, which has 
 frequently taken place in South Kingstown ; for those 
 who have been rich, have frequently brought up their 
 children in idleness and luxury, which has led them 
 into bad company and many vices, which have been 
 the means of their spending what their parents gave 
 them. I believe it is best for parents that are rich or 
 poor, to bring up their children strictly in some hon- 
 est employment." (Sager counsels than these were 
 never given by Solon himself.) "As to their religion," 
 continues the author farther on, "part of it is new, 
 some of them are nothingarians, some of them Uni- 
 versalists, a few of them Friends, and some of them 
 are Baptists, but most of them are nothingarians." 
 Page 9th, "Many of them think themselves very cun- 
 ning when they have cheated one another ; for their 
 art and craft is to cheat every one that they can. After 
 C 286 ] 
 
TWENTY- FIRST BAKING 
 
 they have cheated another by deceiving or lying, they 
 frequently boast of it, and say they have out-cunninged 
 the person that they dealt with ; that they told him a 
 lie, and made him believe it was truth — for they glory 
 in their shame ; we read of some men glorying in their 
 shame. They are not often ashamed, unless they have 
 taken one another's word, and have been cheated by 
 believing each other. . . . Some of them will call a man 
 a fool if he stands to his word, if it was against his 
 interest; for he might have got off by telling the man 
 he made the bargain with, that he was in jest. This 
 way of treating mankind they think very cunning." 
 (The author evidently squints in the last sentence at 
 his cat trade.) Again page 10th, "Many of them are 
 poor pay; and it is very hard to collect any money 
 from many of them, for one of them had been indebted 
 to me for some time, and I found that it was hard to 
 get the pay from him ;, I bought something of him, so 
 that I became indebted to him ; and soon after I be- 
 came in debt to him, we settled, and I gave him a note 
 on demand with his promise that he would not sue me, 
 and he sued me in less than one hour after I gave him 
 the note; for that is part of their craft." (At page 17, 
 Cat Story No. 2 begins to develop itself thus :) " There 
 is a little village in this town where the court-house 
 stands, called Little Rest. Some people call it 'Rest- 
 less Hill.' I think it resembles a hornet's nest, for the 
 people are some like hornets." (For brevity's sake I 
 must here pass by much interesting matter.) "I think 
 it proper to describe something of the hornet's nest 
 religion. Some call them nothingarians. That sort of 
 religion puts me in mind of what a man said about 
 C 287 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 his religion, that he thanked God that he had no reli- 
 gion. Having given a small description of their religion, 
 I shall endeavor to describe their wit, which I shall 
 call hornet's nest cunning, which is as follows : There 
 
 is one * , who lives at the hornet's nest, and is at 
 
 the head of that sort of people of that village, and its 
 vicinity. One of the hornet's nest company told me 
 
 that* , who is a very fat man, fatted on lies. The 
 
 above said * told me that he had broke up people 
 
 from getting drunk at the hornet's nest; for his prac- 
 tice was to pour water in their sleeves, and that had 
 broke up their getting drunk there. That, I believe, has 
 been practiced frequently to strangers; and boasted 
 
 of by above said * . It is frequently the case when 
 
 men are at the hill that they are very much imposed 
 upon by that hornet's nest company ; sometimes men 
 that are old, and sometimes young ; for men in the 
 country are not so well versed in lying as that com- 
 pany." Page 22, "The hornet's nest company are 
 very fond of office ; are often proud of it ; if it is a con- 
 stable's office, for they are fond of being where liquor 
 is passing about freely. It is generally the case that 
 men that are proud of an office, are not fit for it. This 
 
 * being witty, and very lazy, and very fond of 
 
 office, and a deputy sheriff and an auctioneer in the 
 town where he lives, and supporting his family by his 
 
 offices, he and C ■* put their heads together. C 
 
 wanted to have the title of a Colonel, and * wanted 
 
 to contrive to get another office. They contrived a plan 
 
 to have a cat trade that C might bear the title of 
 
 Colonel, and * , whose wit and genius run very 
 
 much in cats (for he had a very enterprising ingenu 
 C 288 ] 
 
TWENTY- FIRST BAKING 
 
 in cats, and wanted it to be discovered to the public), 
 bethought himself that he would contrive a cat trade ; 
 and that if his knowledge in cats could be known to 
 the public, he might obtain the honor of the office of a 
 cat inspector- general. And being very witty to obtain 
 
 his ends, he agrees with C that he should be a 
 
 cat merchant and himself a cat purchaser, in hopes 
 that this would introduce a cat traffic. In order to 
 obtain their ends, they set out to execute their plan to 
 obtain their offices, or to get the title to them ; for the 
 name of an office, in such people's view, is a great thing 
 
 with them. I being at Joseph Reynolds', and C 
 
 being a stranger to me, C came in and sat down 
 
 in the room, it being in the evening. By and by * 
 
 came in with a calico gown on ; and when he came 
 
 in C took him by the hand and said. How do you 
 
 do, Mr. * ? And * said to me, Mr. Comstock, 
 
 this is Mr. Cook, of New London, and * said to 
 
 Mr. Cook, This is Mr. Comstock ; he lives in the great 
 house that was formerly John Potter's and* , know- 
 ing that I wanted to purchase a quantity of butter to 
 carry to Nantucket, asked Cook what was the price of 
 
 butter at New London? Cook said eleven cents. * 
 
 asked him if he could furnish Mr. Comstock with 
 a quantity of butter? Cook said he could furnish him 
 with three or four thousand weight, with having a few 
 days' notice, as he kept a large store at New London. 
 I told Cook that I should want it on a credit of sixty 
 
 days; and told him that Comstock was an honest 
 
 man, and there was no doubt but that he would pay 
 him honestly. And I told Cook that I would take one 
 thousand weight first, and when I made the remit- 
 
 i: 289 : 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 tances, I would take two thousand weight more ; and 
 we agreed. After we agreed about the butter, Cook 
 asked me if I knew where he could purchase a quan- 
 tity of mules. I told him that Connecticut was the place 
 for mules; for we did not raise but a few in this State. 
 Cook said they were all bought up in Connecticut and 
 
 shipped off. * asked him what he would give a 
 
 head for mules? He said if they were likely ones, he 
 
 would give sixty dollars a head for them. Then * 
 
 tucked my elbow, and asked me to go aside with him ; 
 and when we were aside together, he told me that Syl- 
 vester Hazard had two mules, that were very likely ones, 
 and he wanted to sell them, and I could buy them 
 on a long credit. And as I was much embarrassed (for 
 
 * held two executions against me returnable in 
 
 about ten days), and said that Cook was very anxious 
 to get the mules, for he had come there with two bags 
 of money; and said further that he thought he would 
 give seventy dollars rather than not get them, for he 
 offered sixty dollars ; and said that I might get through 
 with raising the money without straitening me, and 
 make money by the bargain ; and further that Sylves- 
 ter Hazard was at young James Helme's, and that I 
 had better go down there and see him and talk with 
 him about it. Accordingly I went; and when I went 
 into the house 1 asked if Sylvester Hazard was there. 
 The answer was that he had gone home. In about two 
 
 minutes * and — and a number of young men 
 
 that lived at the hornet's nest, came in ; and when they 
 came in inquired for Sylvester Hazard ; and the an- 
 swer was that he had gone home. * said he must 
 
 see him that night or early next morning ; * said 
 
 [ 290 ^ 
 
TWENTY- FIRST BAKING 
 
 to me that I had better go and see Sylvester Hazard 
 
 that night for would go there that night or very 
 
 early the next morning. * asked Cook if he would 
 
 give seventy dollars for likely mules. Cook said that 
 he would not give but sixty dollars a head for them, 
 
 if they were ever so likely. * asked Cook if he 
 
 wanted to buy any jacks. Cook said he did not. * 
 
 told him that the cats were destroyed in two of the 
 West India islands; and that he had better carry 
 some cats along with his mules, for they would fetch 
 a great price. Cook said that he intended to carry a 
 
 quantity of cats with his mules. * agreed with 
 
 him to furnish him two hundred cats at seventy-five 
 cents apiece; and he entered into writings; and I and 
 
 two more men were joined with * in partnership. 
 
 And when Cook was writing the agreement, he wrote 
 it to have twenty cats that night, and if twenty could 
 be procured that night, he would take two hundred 
 at seventy-five cents apiece. I told Gardiner it was too 
 late to get any cats that night. Gardiner said that I 
 and George Douglass could go to Squire French's, for 
 he had got six or seven cats. I told him that he would 
 be abed, and Gardiner said that I could call at his 
 window and he would get up. Gardiner said further 
 that he had got five or six cats, and that he and his 
 partner would go to his own home and get them, and 
 meet us at the coffee house, and that we could furnish 
 the cats in half an hour. I told Gardiner that I would 
 not call anybody up to buy cats ; accordingly I and 
 Douglass went to Squire French's, and he was abed, 
 and Douglass asked me to call him up, and I told him 
 that I should not call him up, and Douglass called him 
 
 C 291 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 up himself, and when he got up, Douglass told him 
 that he wanted to purchase some cats, and asked him 
 if he had got any, he said he had got seven. I told him 
 that I was agoing to bring some pigs next w eek to sell, 
 and that I would pay him in pig pork for the cats if 
 he and I could agree, and I asked him what he would 
 take a head for his cats, and he said three pounds of 
 pork for one pound of cat, and I told him that I thought 
 pig pork was worth as much a pound as cat meat, and 
 I should not give that price, and while we were talk- 
 ing about it, Gardiner and his partner came up and 
 told me that I must not stand, for Cook had a notion 
 of flying off" from the agreement. I told Gardiner to go 
 away, for that was not the way to purchase anything 
 to show so much anxiety. Gardiner went aside and I 
 agreed with French to give him three pounds of pig's 
 pork apiece for his cats, and when we went to look for 
 the cats, French found but two, and Gardiner said 
 that Colonel Cook was at Joseph Reynolds', for they 
 were abed at Barker's, and, accordingly, they went to 
 Reynolds', and Reynolds and his wife were abed, and 
 Cook took the cats, and said they were likely ones, and 
 handed the money to Gardiner. Reynolds said that he 
 had got some cats, and said that his daughter might 
 sell them, for he was willing to take pig pork for them, 
 and his daughter went and looked up the cats, and 
 brought two, and Cook took them also, and the girl 
 went up chamber and found the old cat, as they called 
 her, and she had six kittens, and Cook said he must 
 have four kittens in lieu of one cat, and we agreed and 
 he paid the money to Gardiner, for we were all part- 
 ners together, and I told Cook that I had agreed with 
 [ 292 ] 
 
TWENTY- FIRST BAKING 
 
 French for five more cats, and that I would give him 
 an order for them, and he said he would take it, and 
 Gardiner said that he had been to James Helme's, and 
 that he had got eight cats, and he would take pig pork 
 also, and said further that Elisha Potter had seven, and 
 he would take pig pork likewise, and that Barber had 
 five, and he would take pig pork likewise, and the 
 order was written, and I signed them, and after we 
 had got through, Gardiner openly declared that he had 
 received all the money for all the cats, and for all the 
 orders that Mr. Comstock had turned in, and he had 
 received twenty dollars for Mr. Comstock, and Cook 
 said that he had agreed with Lunt to go on to New 
 London and carry two hundred cats, and that he had 
 bought a cow, to give milk to feed them, and that 
 he wanted twenty delivered to Peter Boss' next day 
 by ten o'clock in the forenoon, and said if I would 
 deliver them, he would pay one dollar extra, for deliv- 
 ering them to Boss'." (I will just say here in paren- 
 thesis, that Major Lunt, who lived for many years at 
 Little Rest, where there is a monument over his re- 
 mains, was General George Washington's barber 
 throughout the Revolutionary War, Peter Boss' tav- 
 ern used to stand on the site of the "young" John 
 Dockray's house before referred to, on the Matoonek 
 road, just south of the corner made by the Little Rest 
 road. — Shepherd Tom.) "And it was agreed upon by 
 the cat company that I was to wake up George Doug- 
 lass" (who was the cousin of the great Stephen Doug- 
 lass — Ibid.) " early the next morning, and I awakened 
 him accordingly, and he and I went to Gardiner's and 
 roused him up also, and he and his partner was to go 
 
 [ 293 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 one way, and I and my partner to go another way, 
 and accordingly we went to Sylvester Hazard's to get 
 his mules, and ^\■e could not buy them so that it would 
 answer, and Douglass said that he knew where we 
 could buy some cats, and we went and bought two for 
 six cents apiece, and then went to Doctor Aldrich's 
 and he gave us one cat, and then we went to the hill, 
 and there was a man at the hill that said he had some, 
 and I went with him, it being about one hundred yards, 
 and got two more, and I returned back to the hill. In 
 the meantime the people that had got cats they wanted 
 to part with, had brought them»to the above Reynolds' 
 and shut them up in a closet, about sixteen in all; and 
 the time of day was nearly come that I was to deliver 
 them at Peter Boss', and Sylvester Robinson came and 
 told me that it was all a joke, and James Helme told 
 me also that it was a joke, and that the man that Elisha 
 R. Gardiner had recommended to be Colonel Cook, of 
 New London, was Cook, the hatter; that they lived on 
 the hill, and I told them that I had got the cats, and 
 that I intended to deliver them according to my agree- 
 ment, and that I intended that Cook should pay for 
 them, or I intended to sue him. 
 
 ' 'Afterwards I found out that he lived within the jail 
 bounds, and that he was learning French's son the hat- 
 ter's trade, and that suing him was like the old say- 
 ing, ' Sue a beggar and catch a louse.' I knew nothing 
 of his being so poor at the time I was carrying the cats 
 to Boss' and I called for the time of day, and they said 
 it was almost ten o'clock, and I waited about one hour, 
 and I asked Boss for a room to put the cats in , and asked 
 him if he would furnish Cook with the rest of the cats in 
 
 C 294 3 
 
TWENTY- FIRST BAKING 
 
 case Cook should come for them, and he said he would 
 furnish the rest in case that he came, but he would not 
 let me have a room to put the cats in : he thought it 
 best for me to carry the cats and deliver them to Cook, 
 and let him know that I had fulfilled my part of the 
 contract, and it would stand clear to bring an action 
 against Cook. And as I was returning to the hill I met 
 Elisha R. Gardiner and James Helme, Jr., and Elisha 
 R. Gardiner said that I had better take the cats off 
 the mare and he would inspect them, and see if they 
 were merchantable, and I took the cats off and he took 
 them out of the bag one by one, and inspected them, 
 but did not brand them under the tail, for he had no 
 branding-iron, but he got the title of a cat inspector- 
 general, and he viewed their eyes and I believe in- 
 spected them faithfully, and I don't think they can get 
 a better cat inspector in the whole State; so he got the 
 title of the office, and I think he is likely to retain it, 
 for his judgment is, I believe, very good in cats. I sup- 
 pose that it is necessary to see whether their eyesight 
 is good, that I believe he is very careful about, for when 
 he inspected the above said cats, he found two that he 
 said could not see out of their eyes, for he said that 
 there were but twelve merchantable cats, for there were 
 two that could not see, so that I am confident that his 
 judgment is very good in cats ; whether his judgment 
 will be so good in bitches I cannot tell, but I think it is 
 likely to be good, for his abilities lies very much in cats 
 and bitches, and filling pipes with powder and tobacco 
 — he is gifted in that sort of business. 
 
 ' ' The place where the cat inspector let out the cats 
 was right against Adam Gould's house. I beUeve the 
 C ^95 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 hornet's nest company have reported abundance of lies 
 about the business, for they reported that Adam Gould 
 had predicted that the new lights turned into cats, and 
 when the cats went into his house, he said they m' ere 
 new Hghts turned into cats, according to his prediction: 
 and that company said he went to preaching to them, 
 and afterwards they reported that they turned into 
 hogs, and that Gould had fourteen hogs, for when the 
 inspector inspected them he said there was twelve mer- 
 chantable cats, and there were two he said that could 
 not see out of their eyes. The cat inspector said further 
 that he had turned in forty cats to Colonel Cook, that 
 he had not got his pay for, and he intended to sue him. 
 This Elisha R. Gardiner is very fond of office, for he 
 has been laying a plan in order to get another office, 
 and I think he is likely to obtain it, if he gets his brand- 
 ing-iron, and comes over to Newport and brands the 
 cats when he is requested to, for cats will not sell in the 
 town of Newport unless they are inspected and branded 
 with the letters *E. R. G.,' under their tails as cat 
 inspector, for they will not buy them unless they are 
 actually branded by the hornet's nest inspector ; I am 
 willing to assist him all I can that he may obtain it, 
 and to forward the business I shall place him on a sign 
 with a cat under his left arm and a branding- iron in 
 his right hand placed against her tail, I think will be 
 my part towards making a great man of him." 
 
 On the thirty-sixth and last page of the History is 
 a petition to the General Assembly to incorporate the 
 
 Hornet's Nest Company, ' ' and also an original poetic 
 effiision, which runs thus: 
 
 C 296 J 
 
TWENTY- FIRST BAKING 
 
 A New Catechism 
 More studied than an older and a better one. 
 " What is the chief end of man ? 
 
 To gather up riches, to cheat all he can, 
 
 To flatter the rich, the poor to despise. 
 
 To pamper the fool, the humble, the wise; 
 
 The rich to assist, to do all in his power 
 
 To kick the unfortunate still a peg lower; 
 
 To cry up fair freedom, defend it with vigor, 
 
 Have slaves without number, and use them with rigor, 
 
 To deal fairly with all men where riches attend them. 
 
 To grind down the poor where there 's none to defend them. 
 
 To seduce the fair virgin to accept his embrace. 
 
 To cast on her then all the shame and disgrace, 
 
 To be angel without and devil within, 
 
 To pretend to all virtue and practice all sin — 
 
 This is most men's chief end, or their actions belie them. 
 
 And if you don't believe it, you may e'en go and try them." 
 
 I think I may now confidently promise my readers that 
 Cat Story No. 2 is forever disposed of and finished, and 
 that after dwelling some little while on the promised 
 fish question, I shall be ready to show how it was that 
 Phillis, my grandfather's redoubtable colored cook, 
 came to be "the remote cause of the French Revolu- 
 tion, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoi- 
 nette." 
 
 (I must, however, stop the press just here, just to 
 say in parenthesis that the mention of the name of 
 Phillis, my grandfather's superlative baker of jonny- 
 cakes and other good things, brings to my mind the 
 final exit of Mrs. Babcock, mentioned in my last 
 baking. She went out of the house one morning to 
 help her husband pry out a rock of some ten tons heft, 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 with a big long white oak lever, for which work nature 
 had peculiarly adapted her, weighing as she did 444 
 pounds avoirdupois. So soon as the rock was rolled out 
 of the hole, Mrs. Babcock hastened in to her kitchen 
 fire, to turn her jonny-cake on the board, which she 
 was just in the act of tossing topsy-turvy in the air, 
 after separating it from the board with her case-knife, 
 and again catching it a la Phillis on the board as it fell, 
 when she ruptured a blood vessel, or some other in- 
 ternal organ, and instantly died in glory, with the half- 
 baked jonny-cake, made of white Rhode Island corn, 
 slowly and finely ground in a granite stone mill, yet in 
 her hands.) 
 
 Again, I may here just say that Mr. L. D. Anthony, 
 of Providence, informs me that Governor Fenner used 
 to attend the old First Baptist Church, which he al- 
 ways entered from Benefit street, and walked up the 
 broad aisle, carrying his eight-foot stock black whip 
 erect by his side until he reached his big square pew 
 near the pulpit, where he set his whip up exactly in 
 a perpendicular in one corner. 
 
 La\\'yer Ned Hazard, the first two sjdiables of whose 
 name belong to Providence Plantations, as before 
 hinted in these papers, and the last three syllables to 
 the old John Bigelow Dockray house west of Sugar 
 Loaf Hill, in South Kingstown, also tells me that Hon, 
 Elisha R. Potter and Gov. Arthur Fenner were once 
 Mxighed at a grocery on Market Square, near his then 
 office, and their separate weights marked in the shop 
 with chalk (I think), one weighing 320 and odd 
 pounds, and the other 340 and odd pounds, but which 
 Avas the weightiest he cannot exactly remember, but 
 C 298 ] 
 
TWENTY- FIRST BAKING 
 
 thinks it was Squire Potter, who, of course, being 
 raised in the South County, was heavier in proportion 
 to his avoirdupois pound weight than Governor Fen- 
 ner, who only grew up in Providence county. 
 
 C 299 H 
 
Twenty-second Baking 
 
 Now that I have got through with that everlast- 
 ing Cat Story No. 2, together with the wonder- 
 ful history it gav^e rise to, I feel, as the saying is, like 
 a newly live-picked goose, in other words, as light as 
 a feather, and will proceed without further ado to dis- 
 cuss the fishes of Narragansett, and relate then how it 
 came to pass that Phillis, my grandfather's thrice su- 
 pereminent colored cook, came to be the remote cause 
 of the French Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI 
 and Marie Antoinette. The first time I ever remember 
 going fishing was in 1802, after bottom fish in Mrs. 
 Dyer's run, a little south of Tower Hill, where I went 
 to school to Robert Noyes. It was between schools, and 
 although I rolled up my breeches clean above my knees, 
 I somehow or other managed to get them so wet that 
 when I went into school Master Noyes made me take 
 
 [ 300 ] 
 
TWENTY- SECOND BAKING 
 
 them off and hang them up to dry on old Miss Nichols' 
 clothes-line in the back yard, where Jim Case was at 
 work in his grandfather's garden just over the other 
 side of the wall. (Old Squire Case, I will just say here 
 in parenthesis, was a particular friend of Doctor Ben 
 Franklin, who used always to tarry a night at the 
 Squire'shouseonTowerHill, when taking hisusual an- 
 nual trips on horseback by the Old Post Road to and 
 from Philadelphia.) I can on'y just remember when 
 Christopher Raymond Perry, father of Commodore 
 Oliver Hazard Perry, lived for a while in the old Squire 
 Case house, that stood on the south side of the Tower 
 Hill road leading to the South Ferry, the farthest east 
 of any house in the village. My brother Ike remem- 
 bered going toNoyes' school with the Commodore, but 
 I don't so exactly as he. Now Jim Case had a grudge 
 agin me, and no sooner did he see me hang my check- 
 ered linen breeches on Miss Nichols' clothes-line and 
 go back to be laughed at by all the gals in the school, 
 than he whipped over thewall and snatched my breeches 
 off of Miss Nichols' clothes-line and hid them under 
 a great spreading red gooseberry bush in the further 
 corner of his grandmother's garden. So after school 
 was out, not being able to find my breeches, I had to 
 go all the way home bare-legged — and worse and 
 higher up than that! But if I go on to tell all about my 
 fishing exploits, the Journal would never find a thou- 
 sandth part the room to print them. Suffice to say, my 
 nick-name at Bristol on the Delaware in Penn., where 
 I lived a while when a boy, was "the fisherman," on 
 account of my wonderful skill in the old Isaak Walton 
 sublime art. (I may just say here, in parenthesis, that 
 
 C 301 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 somehow I was always addicted to nick-names. One 
 of the first I remember to have had was "Lusana," 
 because when I was at ' ' Friends Westtown Boarding 
 School, ' ' in West Chester county, Pennsylvania, in tell- 
 ing in geography school about old Tom Jefferson's new 
 purchase of Louisiana, I pronounced the name as in- 
 dicated above. This sobriquet held on to me for some 
 time, until in taking lessons in botany I entered into 
 a long dissertation regarding the Tulip Tree or Amer- 
 ican Poplar, and essayed to show off my extraordinary 
 learning by uniformly referring to the tree by its Latin 
 name, ^'' Linodendron tulipifera, which ( Tulipifera) , in 
 consequence, became my nick-name with the boys for 
 some months; and until one evening in geography 
 school, when the examining committee was present, 
 I showed off by repeating more than forty pages of 
 Pizarro's Conquest of Peru, and spread the wings of 
 my eagle very wide, when I pronounced the following 
 passage, which I then thought was the finest in the 
 English language : ' ' The martial music at once struck 
 up, the cannon and muskets began to fire, the horse sal- 
 lied out fiercely to the charge, and the infantry rushed 
 on sword in hand; " which splendid sample of rhetoric 
 I remember to this day just as well as when I pro- 
 nounced it, feeling myself bigger at the time than old 
 Grant or any other hero of modern or ancient times. 
 From that time the nick-name of ' ' Pizarro ' ' stuck to 
 me until I left school. Before I was much over twenty 
 years old, I kept sometimes from one thousand to 
 twelve hundred sheep, which caused me to be called 
 Shepherd Tom, ' ' to distinguish me from some dozen 
 other Toms in the family.) 
 
 C 302 ] 
 
TWENTY -SECOND BAKING 
 
 To return, I may say I am certain that good fishing 
 cannot be altogether acquired by either art or experi- 
 ence. It comes like Dogberry's learning, "by natur." 
 When I was a stripling, I could catch pretty plenty 
 when everybody else said there weren't any there ! To 
 illustrate: When a boy, I once went down to the end 
 of Barton's wharf on the "Point" in Newport. There 
 were more than twenty boys fishing there for grunters. 
 There was a huge ship's cable (for Newport had ships 
 in those days) coiled up on the wharf, leaving a vacuum 
 in the middle of some four feet across and nearly as high . 
 This was filled heaping full with grunters ; not another 
 fish of any kind had been cotched there that Saturday 
 afternoon. The water was clear as crystal down to the 
 top of the long eel grass on the bottom, and I could 
 see every baited hook as plain as if I held it in my 
 hand. Every now and then a grunter would start out 
 of the eel grass below and get hooked. I had no pole 
 and line with me, and I asked little Willie Wiseman 
 to let me take his just for a minute. I had hardly closed 
 my hands on the pole, when a monstrous big blue-fish 
 (called sea-bass in New York) came right through all 
 the baited hooks on one side, while a big eel darted 
 toward my bait from the other side. The blue-fish was 
 a little too quick for the eel, who turned and scud away 
 right through where a dozen baits were hanging, with- 
 out a nibble at either. I hooked the blue-fish and carried 
 him up the wharf dangling on my line, all the boys 
 following. When I got home Abe brought out the 
 steelyards, and we weighed the fish, and found that 
 it just turned on the eight-pound notch. That is what 
 is called luck by most folks, but I say it is more than 
 
 [ 303 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 that, but what, I confess I do not know. Spiritualists 
 call it, I think, animal magnetism. 
 
 Speaking of that born son of the Devil, Abe, I re- 
 member my father took him and me in a canoe one 
 day, down to the "harbor's mouth, " in Narrow river, 
 which is about a mile north of Narragansett Pier, 
 a-fishing. My father hooked a big fish, but he broke 
 away from his hne. Said my father to Abe: "That 
 tautog, Abram, would weigh ten pounds ! ' ' Said Abe : 
 "Pretty hard telling. Master Rowland, how the steel- 
 yards will turn when the fish is under water ! ' ' Said 
 my father : "Thou art a saucy boy, Abram, take up 
 the keelig [anchor], and paddle home! "To tell the 
 truth, I am almost afraid to tell all about the fish of 
 old Narragansett, lest I should raise a doubt in some 
 of my more skeptical readers' minds about my entire 
 veracity. Sol think I will just copy from a letter I re- 
 ceived more'n six months ago from mybrother Joseph, 
 who has visited nearly every country and coast in the 
 world, and besides that, owns " Sea Side," called by 
 the summer visitors, "Hazard's Castle," situated just 
 south of Narragansett Pier, directly opposite the best 
 fishing-ground in Rhode Island, the world inclusive. 
 Says he : "As late as 1845, I reco'lect that Stephen A. 
 Chase and myself caught 101 black-fish (tautog) on 
 my shore, at Sea Side, on one afternoon. I used to see 
 striped bass by the hundred in the breakers in the 
 autumn, some of them very large. I have seen people at 
 the north pier wading in the dock and pitching out 
 flounders by the hundreds with a pitchfork, as they 
 would hay in the field at mowing time. Menhaden 
 (bony fish) were sold at twelve cents and less, a bar- 
 
 C 304 ] 
 
TWENTY -SECOND BAKING 
 
 rel, for manuring land, and thousands of barrels were 
 sometimes landed at a haul on the beach, north of the 
 Pier. Farmers used to come to the Pier from towns bor- 
 dering on the Connecticut line, in the autumn, to catch 
 codfish for their winter's supply, and go back with as 
 many as they would need for many months to come, 
 all caught in one day with hook and line. I have known 
 two farmers to take a boat at the south pier and go 
 about the quarter of a mile from shore, and come back 
 before night with over a ton of codfish to salt for their 
 winter's use. Some seasons in October, I have seen the 
 shore lined with fishing boats and smacks, some coming 
 long distances. I remember seeing Captain Williams, 
 that most original, honest, interesting old fisherman 
 (a regular Norseman , one might readily imagine) , come 
 ashore one Sunday morning at about 11 o'clock, at the 
 Pier, with three halibut in his boat, aggregating from 
 six to seven hundred pounds weight. I remember see- 
 ing our nephew Rowland, when he was a boy, land 
 at the Pier with one hundred and twenty-two horse 
 mackerel he had just caught along the shore between 
 the Pier and Point Judith." I will here remark that 
 there was never a real good horse mackerel (called blue- 
 fish by some) eaten in New York or Philadelphia, for 
 the reason that to be eaten in perfection this fish must be 
 put on the gridiron within five minutes ^^ at the farthest, 
 from its flipping. Phillis, my grandfather's pattern col- 
 ored cook, used to say she never did nor never could 
 broil a horse mackerel for anybody, not even a nig, 
 unless it was brought to her afive and flipping, for if 
 there was anything on airth she 'spised, it was a dead 
 horse mackerel. It used to make my mouth water to 
 
 c 305 :i 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 see Aunty Phillis broil a fresh horse mackerel on her 
 big gridiron over a great pile of xvannut wood coals, 
 nor would she allow a mite of butter to come near it 
 whilst broiling, but that of the sweetest, richest quality, 
 made from the cream of yellow-skinned, bug-horn 
 cows, for as she used to say, if there was any one thing 
 on airth she 'spised, it was bad butter, 'specially for 
 cooking. What Phillis would say of oleomargarine I 
 can only guess at. As soon as her mackerel was done, 
 Phillis always made Margaret take it at once to the 
 table, and set it before the gret-room folks smoking 
 hot ; nor would she permit my grandfather to remove 
 it from the gridiron only just so fast as he served it to 
 the family. When I was a small boy, I can't tell how 
 many times I have seen Phillis standing in the door- 
 way between the kitchen and the gret-room, so as to see 
 that grandfather did not take the horse mackerel off the 
 gridiron, and put it on a miserable half-warmed platter 
 before it was helped. Talk about your English turbot 
 and what not, they will not in the least compare with 
 one of Phillis' fresh broiled horse mackerel. (I may just 
 say here in an inside parenthesis, that I used to hear 
 when a boy that "Point Judith point" was so called 
 because it was first discovered by an old negro woman 
 named Judith on board ship in a fog. The captain 
 could not see the land with his spy-glass, and so he said 
 to the old darky to point out the direction in which she 
 saw it. Said he, "Point, Judy, point," and so when 
 the captain saw it he put it down on his chart by that 
 name, which has since been converted into "Point 
 Judith," or "Pint Judy." Per contra, my brother 
 Joseph tells me that Josiah Quincy, of Boston, during 
 
 [ 306 :i 
 
TWENTY- SECOND BAKING 
 
 whose mayoralty the Cochituate water was mtroduced 
 into the city and the great reservoir built near the capi- 
 tal, once told him that Point Judith was named after 
 a relation of his, "Judith Quincy,"who married a 
 Mr. Hull and went at a very early date to live on 
 Point Judith.) But this is neither here nor there, about 
 the fishes of Narragansett, so I will return to my 
 brother's letter. "On cool autumn mornings, Jona- 
 than N. Hazard (who then lived at Narragansett Pier) 
 used to walk along the beach and pick up scores of 
 fish that had got grounded by the breakers during the 
 night whilst in pursuit of the little sprats they subsist 
 upon, which lured them to the strand where they per- 
 ished. They were chiefly Tom Cod or frost fish (young 
 codfish). Capital river crabs were also often found 
 among them. " ( I will just say here in parenthesis, that 
 speaking of grounded codfish brings to my mind an 
 incident I used to hear related when I was a boy. John 
 Robinson, a son of Governor Wm. Robinson and half- 
 brother of Shepherd Tom's grandmother, built the first 
 pier on the shore of his farm, where the famous water- 
 ing-place now stands. At that time an extensive trade 
 was carried on from Newport and Bristol with Guinea 
 on the coast of Africa, the outward bound cargoes being 
 chiefly rum, and the inward, negro slaves, taken in 
 exchange. Since my memory, still-houses, to furnish 
 the outward-bound cargoes of rum, were quite plenty 
 in Newport, and the ruins of the barracoons that were 
 used to stow away the inward-bound cargoes of negroes 
 until they could be sold to the plantations both South 
 and North, were also visible. A good many of the poor 
 slaves used to die in the crowded holds of the slave- 
 
 C 307 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 ships, whose corpses Avere regularly thrown overboard 
 every morning or oftener. This caused the ship to be 
 followed from the coast of Africa by huge sharks, na- 
 tives to these regions, called man-eaters, because they 
 came to be more fond of human flesh than any other 
 kind of food, owing probably to its having been their 
 principal nutriment from infancy. Whilst the carpen- 
 ters were framing the woodwork of the pier, Mr. Rob- 
 inson's son Sylvester went swimming way out beyond 
 the breakers. His father, chancing to look that way, 
 saw a great man-eater in the distance, some twelve feet 
 in length, making his way rapidly towards his little 
 boy. With great presence of mind he called to Sylves- 
 ter, and told him he would give him a Spanish silver 
 dollar if he would swim to where he stood within two 
 minutes by his watch. Boys of that day did not, as 
 now, find silver dollars growing on every bush, and, 
 of course, Syl was very desirous to get the one prom- 
 ised by his father. So he struck out for the shore with 
 might and main, the monstrous man-eater also quick- 
 ening his speed as he drew nearer, and the scent of his 
 destined prey became stronger in his nostrils. There 
 had been no arrival of slave-ships for more than a week, 
 and so hungry and ravenous was the man-eater that 
 he seemed to have forgot himself in his eager pursuit 
 of the boy, who had not been fully snatched from the 
 water by his father before the shark turned himself on 
 one side, and with open mouth, made a lightning dart 
 at Syl, and grounded high upon the strand, when the 
 carpenters dispatched him with their broad-axes.) 
 
 You remember, ' ' continues my brother Joe, ' ' Old 
 Christopher Robinson's account of the great hauls of 
 [ 308 ] 
 
TWENTY- SECOND BAKING 
 
 striped bass they used to make late in autumn and the 
 winter in the Salt pond, when he was young, weighing 
 all the way from three pounds to forty and fifty pounds 
 and even more ; one hundred and seventy-eight thou- 
 sand at one haul on his father's shore near the old 
 corn -mill (now Wakefield) , and ninety-five thousand 
 at another. These bass they used to pile up on the ad- 
 joining meadow, and people came with carts from far 
 and near (even from Puritan Massachusetts and Pres- 
 byterian Connecticut). Christopher used to tell us how, 
 in his early manhood, he used to pitch these bass just 
 as they came into the wagons at a copper apiece," 
 or about two for a cent of our present currency. Now 
 they sometimes sell striped bass, the king fish of the 
 world, in Newport market, as high as thirty cents a 
 pound ! Only think what glorious times our ancestors 
 must have reveled in, when they could have two bass, 
 weighing fifty pounds each, for little more than a 
 nickel, that now sell for thirty dollars, or 3000 nickels! 
 I may here say that the day preceding the great fire 
 in New York in 1835 (that consumed more than half 
 the business portion of the city) was as warm as a half- 
 heated baker's oven, while the night of the fire that fol- 
 lowed was the coldest that had been known for years, 
 in fact, so cold that the water froze solid in the hose of 
 the fire engines. On that warm day the bass had entered 
 the breach that leads to the sea at the southern extrem- 
 ity of the Salt pond, in countless myriads, and the wind 
 being southerly and both weather and water unusually 
 warm, the immense school of fish stopped overnight 
 near the surface of the water, doubtless meaning to 
 settle down into their deep winter quarters the next 
 
 [ 309 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 day. But early in the night the wind suddenly chopped 
 round to the north-west and brought with it such an 
 unheard-of low temperature that the lake was converted 
 almost in an instant into a sheet of ice some foot and 
 more in thickness, holding in its embrace nearly all of 
 the striped bass that had entered the pond on the day 
 before. A day or two after this I went down upon the 
 pond and saw scores upon scores of men cutting out 
 the bass with chopping axes. They had already piled 
 up hundreds of thousands to all appearance in heaps 
 as big as small hay-stacks. The whole surface of the 
 lake looked like a huge piece of Mosaic thickly inlaid 
 with frozen bass weighing two or three to twenty or 
 more pounds each. New York and other markets were 
 bountifully supplied with the finest fish from this source 
 for weeks afterwards. Potter's pond, which lies on the 
 south-western side of the Salt pond, on what was for- 
 merly the old Governor John Potter estate, is connected 
 with the great Salt pond by a narrow strait. In the old 
 Governor's day, he used to surround with nets millions 
 of bass in the early winter before severe frost set in and 
 haul them up to this narrow strait, when what with the 
 force of the nets and the whooping and hurrahing of 
 his host of negroes, the bass would be forced into the 
 Potter pond heaping high. The Governor used then to 
 stake up the narrow strait and so have the fish fast in 
 a comparatively narrow compass, from w hence he took 
 them out with small nets through the winter just so fast 
 as a market could be found for them. (I may just say 
 here in an inside parenthesis, that it used to be thought 
 that Governor John Potter was as skilful in fishing for 
 the votes of Rhode Island freemen as he was for striped 
 
 C 310 3 
 
TWENTY -SECOND BAKING 
 
 bass. There lived not far from him, in the town of Rich- 
 mond, an oldish man of a good deal of influence by the 
 name of Wm. Barber, usually called "Um Barber," 
 because he was very much addicted to using the word 
 "um." Um Barber M^as one of the last survivors of 
 the old fox-hunting ilk, that, as well as horse racing, 
 was in the olden times a favorite sport with the Narra- 
 gansetters, some of them having packs of fox hounds. 
 In my early days a race course was in tolerable preser- 
 vation on the old Kit Champlin farm in Charlestown. 
 It so happened that Um Barber had a personal antip- 
 athy to Governor John Potter, and always opposed him 
 in politics and at the polls with all his might. A hotly 
 contested election was near at hand, in which Potter 
 was candidate for Governor, wherein it was of the 
 greatest importance that "Um Barber" should not 
 oppose, even if he did not support him. How to reach 
 " Um " was a difficult question. The Governor, how- 
 ever, proved equal to the occasion. He got up a fox 
 chase, and invited Um Barber to become his guest for 
 a day or two previous to the coming off" of a hunt. 
 ' ' Um ' ' was so passionately fond of the sport that he 
 could not resist the temptation, and accepted the Gov- 
 ernor's invitation, but with the firm resolve that it 
 should not influence his vote in the coming election. 
 The Governor plied his guest with many attentions, 
 and when the hunt came off", insisted upon Urn's being 
 his especial companion in the chase. During the run, 
 Potter was observed to take frequent libations from a 
 black bottle he had in charge (filled with sweetened 
 water), until by degrees he apparently became so boozy 
 that some of his near friends thought it best to ride 
 [ 311 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 by his side to prevent his falling from his horse. To all 
 these, however, he turned the cold shoulder, and in- 
 sisted that none but his friend ' ' Um Barber ' ' should 
 attend him. Flattered by the preference, Umwasahvays 
 on the watch to support the Governor, lurch which 
 way he would. After a while the maudlin candidate 
 became confidential with Um, and disclosed several 
 (apparent) secrets of his political party, asking his 
 advice in regard to them. This was too much for 
 the unsophisticated fox-hunter, M^ho, on election day, 
 brought with him a score of his friends, one and all of 
 -whom cast their votes for Governor John Potter, and 
 he was elected by a bare majority, that Um's and his 
 friends' votes might have changed. Um Barber and 
 Governor John Potter ever after continued firm per- 
 sonal and political friends until separated by death.) 
 Since my memory, striped bass used to be not only 
 a great deal more numerous than now in our Rhode 
 Island waters, but bigger, frequently weighing from 
 seventy to seventy-five pounds. John Cork^^ bore the 
 name of being the greatest drunkard and the luckiest 
 fisherman in all Narragansett, and through a long life 
 followed both callings and no other. I disremember the 
 exact time when I happened to be fishing for tautog on 
 what is called the Flat rock, a mile south of the Pier. 
 I think it may, however, have been in the month of 
 November, the best season for shooting loons, for I 
 recollect an English gentleman, attended by his Irish 
 servant, stood a little way from me when he brought 
 down with his long fowHng-piece an extraordinary 
 large fat loon, as it was winging its way southerly 
 over our heads. The huge bird fell with a heavy thud 
 [ 312 ] 
 
TWENTY- SECOND BAKING 
 
 on the rock . Said his Irish servant : ' ' Your honor might 
 have saved your powder and shot, for shure such a fall 
 as that would have killed the bird of itself!" On that 
 occasion, John Cork caught two bass, the lesser one of 
 which would weigh fully sixty pounds. John was, of 
 course, on foot, and more than half drunk at that. He 
 had just strung his two bass together with a four-folded 
 fishing-line, preparatory to putting them on his shoul- 
 ders to carry up to Christopher Robinson's and thence 
 to my father's, w^ho, he well knew, would each take a 
 head and shoulder (the best part of a striped bass by 
 a long shot) and thus lighten his load so as to enable 
 him to get to Watson's shop, a mile farther on, where 
 he would exchange the remainder of the biggest fish 
 for rum, and take the other home, unless a chance 
 customer should intervene, in which case his wife and 
 children would have to wait for their share until next 
 time or later. I was just about helping John to put his 
 head through the ring made by the four-folded line, 
 when Squire Kenyon came along on horseback on his 
 way to Little Rest, and offered to take his fish as far 
 as Watson's shop, provided he would give him the 
 head and shoulders of the smallest one. John told him 
 he would see him "d — d first." So Squire Kenyon 
 hitched his horse to a bayberry bush and threw off his 
 line for tautog. I helped John load his bass, and after 
 draining his bottle, he proceeded on his way, until he 
 chanced to stumble head-foremost into a stone hole on 
 the Stephen Champlin farm, on the west end of which 
 farm tradition says a young girl was murdered, just 
 after Point Judith was settled, and her body carried 
 nearly a mile by her ravisher and thrown off the Flat 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 rock into the sea. About an hour after, Squire Ken- 
 yon, catching no luck, mounted his horse and pro- 
 ceeded on his way, which led just by the big stone hole 
 in which John still lay, with the four-folded line twisted 
 about his neck and both the big fish on top of him. 
 Kenyon again renewed his offer to help Cork out and 
 take the two bass to Watson's shop or any distance 
 short of it, for the head and shoulders of the smallest 
 fish. John managed to squirm his head in a position 
 that enabled him to bring his left eye to bear upon 
 Kenyon 's countenance, as with a stifled voice he ejacu- 
 lated, "You be d — d." So Kenyon passed on, whilst 
 John Cork kept pretty quiet until he sobered, and Tom 
 Aaron, the Indian, came along and helped him out of 
 the hole, and again started him on with one bass in 
 front and the other on his back. I disremember the day 
 when I chanced to be seated at Peace Dale, within 
 hearing distance of a number of boys and men who 
 were arguing whether or not Smith Lewis was a man 
 or a boy. All but Jim Grennold said that Smith was 
 a boy. The question was argued vehemently for some 
 time, until Jim Grennold exclaimed with much energy : 
 You say that Smith Lewis is nothing but a boy ; I 
 say, he is a man ! At any rate heehaws tobacco. ' ' Upon 
 this convincing announcement, all the negative con- 
 testants gave in. The next question discussed was in 
 reference to the successful and unsuccessful men in 
 South Kingstown. After many examples of failures 
 and some of success had been cited, John Cork put in 
 his say: "Well, I started in the world with nothing, 
 and have near about held my own. If any man here 
 has done better than that, let him tell how he did it ! " 
 
 [ 314 ] 
 
TWENTY -SECOND BAKING 
 
 I think it not improbable but that there may be some 
 ignoramuses in Providence and Kent counties where 
 there is but little or nothing known about salt-water 
 fish, who may feel disposed to question the accuracy 
 of some of the fish stories I have related. However this 
 may be, I can honestly assure all the readers of the 
 Journal and the rest of the world that if what I have 
 heard be true, all that I have stated about the abun- 
 dance of fish that used to abound in Narragansett less 
 than a century ago, is but as cakes and gingerbread 
 in comparison with the quantities that used to abound 
 there in a preceding century. I have heard that prince 
 of traditionists, Daniel E. Updike, of East Grinnage, 
 say that in his father's or grandfather's day, that such 
 countless shoals of striped bass used to come up thePet- 
 taquamscutt (or Narrow) river to winter in the beau- 
 tiful ponds at the head of tide-water, that people were 
 said to pass over the river on the backs of the solid 
 mass without wetting their feet. I disremember the time 
 when Capt. Bill Wilson told me that his father worked 
 for Col. Gardiner on Boston Neck, when he gave a 
 great ball that was attended by many distinguished 
 persons from Boston, Newport, and New Yol'k (Provi- 
 dence being nowhere in those days), on which occa- 
 sion two of the Misses Brown, of Tower Hill, set out on 
 horseback to attend the ball, but when they came to the 
 fording-place in Narrow river, a little above Carter's 
 gibbet (who killed Jackson), it was packed so full of 
 striped bass that (their horses being smooth shod), they 
 were forced to dismount and pass over afoot on the 
 backs of the fishes that were jammed in such a solid 
 mass as to be unable to move individually in any direc- 
 
 C 315 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 tion, except as the entire mass was carried along by the 
 tide. Capt. Wilson said that Col. Gardiner had a six- 
 pounder mounted on a hill near the house, Math which 
 he saluted his guests as they arrived, and that on the 
 arri^ al of the Misses Brown, he ordered his nigger 
 gunner to make a double discharge of the piece in their 
 honor, because they had evinced such pluck in cross- 
 ing the river on the slippery backs of the fishes. I may 
 here diverge in a compound parenthesis, to say that I 
 knew old Capt. Bill Wilson well. He was a pretty good 
 day laborer if set to work alone, but if there were three 
 or four or more men with him, they would not all do 
 the work of one man, their time being taken up almost 
 entirely by laughing at Capt. Bill's drolleries. He was 
 a natural wit, who was never seen to smile himself, 
 and yet he could not open his mouth without mak- 
 ing others laugh ready to kill. When I first knew him, 
 he kept bachelor's hall in a one-roomed cabin west of 
 Tower Hill. All the cooking and table utensils he had 
 in his house was an iron two-quart kettle, two pewter 
 spoons, one pewter plate, and a half-gallon jug. He lived 
 entirely on hasty pudding and molasses, making his 
 own pudding, and I have heard him say that he never 
 cleaned out his kettle until the crust became so thick 
 upon its bottom and sides that it would not hold enough 
 pudding for one meal. Then and not until then he 
 scraped out his kettle, but never washed it, because as 
 he said it would take out its sweetness. After a while 
 the Captain married ; but matrimony never agreed 
 with him. His wife took to drink, and on one occasion, 
 when in mid-winter she took the panes of glass out of 
 the only bed-room window and sold them for rum, he 
 C 316 ] 
 
TWENTY -SECOND BAKING 
 
 complained of her conduct to me. Said the Captain, 
 ' ' If my mouth was wide enough to reach from pole 
 to pole, and my tongue as deep in my throat as the 
 ocean, I could never tell what trouble that woman has 
 given me ! ' ' Shepherd Tom was the first manufac- 
 turer in the United States who ever worked a pound of 
 Buenos Ayres wool (or Mediterranean either), which 
 first-named article was then always as chock-full of 
 burrs as a fig is of seeds. Before suitable pickers were 
 invented, all these burrs used to go into the cloth, 
 which cloth, after being run through a boiling dye, I 
 have seen look quite green in a prolonged rain-storm 
 on the tenter bars, owing to the sprouting of the burrs. 
 Captain Bill once bought some of this cloth before it 
 was colored to make him a pair of shirts. Said he, in 
 speaking of it to me some time afterwards : " I thought 
 the stuff would make me a couple of warm winter 
 shirts, in spite of the burrs, but I found that the wind 
 would whistle through it just like a thorn hedge." 
 
 I was really in hopes of doing the fish of Narragan- 
 sett in one baking, but I find I shall have to trespass 
 on another turn of the jonny-cake before I explain how 
 it came to pass that Phillis, my grandfather's most 
 worthy and world -renowned colored cook, came to be 
 the remote cause of the French Revolution, and the 
 death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. 
 
 C 317 3 
 
Twenty-third Baking 
 
 INO W mean to finish up the Narragansett fish in 
 a jiffy, and then go right ahead and tell my impa- 
 tient readers all about how Phillis, my grandfather's 
 half-heaven and half-Guinea born colored cook came to 
 be the remote cause of the French Revolution, and the 
 death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. So here 
 goes! But before beginning, I will just say, in paren- 
 thesis, that the Tom Aaron who acted the part of a 
 Christian in helping John Cork (in my last baking) out 
 of the big stone hole and starting him on his way re- 
 joicing, was a full-blooded Indian of the old Narra- 
 gansett tribe, who lived in the west end of an old house 
 that used to stand on my brother Joseph's Sea Side 
 farm. George Ammon, a half-blood Indian, lived in the 
 eastern part of the same house. Tom w^as old enough to 
 be entitled to a pension for service in the Revolutionary 
 War, provided he had served his country therein, and 
 so one day, taking George Ammon along with him for 
 his sponsor, he proceeded on foot to Providence to lay 
 his claims before Uncle Sam's commissioner. Said the 
 commissioner, "All right, Mr. Aaron, but where is your 
 proof of having served your country in its extremity?" 
 Said Aaron, pointing to George, ' ' Here is a fellow that 
 knows all about how I sarved in the war." George 
 Ammon was accordingly asked to put his hands on the 
 Bible and take the oath, after which he swore, right 
 hand and left, that he was ' ' sartin Tom sarved in the 
 war." The commissioner, observing that Ammon did 
 not look more than half of Tom's age, asked him how 
 C 318 ] 
 
TWENTY-THIRD BAKING 
 
 he knew that Aaron served in the War of Independ- 
 ence? "Why," said George, "Tom told me so him- 
 self. ' ' Tom Aaron and George Ammon were both great 
 fishermen, and during the War of 1812 they used fre- 
 quently to come to my father's to ask for newspapers 
 to carry with them when they went fishing off Point 
 Judith in a boat, to give as a peace-offering to the offi- 
 cers of the British war brig ' ' Orpheus, ' ' which block- 
 aded Narragansett Bay and Long Island Sound during 
 most of the war. On one occasion I told Tom that we 
 had none but very old papers! "Never mind," said 
 he, "I '11 just tell the Britishers that I can't read and 
 that you composed upon the poor Injun." Speaking 
 of the British war brig " Orpheus" brings to my re- 
 membrance her running on shore the ship ' ' Wham- 
 poa," just by John Watson's Pier in Boston Neck. 
 The ' ' Whampoa ' ' was loaded with brandy and other 
 French goods, and the best of Cognac was very plenty 
 in the neighborhood for years after that event, whilst 
 almost every country lass sported French fans and 
 ribbons. The first news I had of the catastrophe was 
 from Silas Greenman's wife, whom I found one morn- 
 ing crying whilst she was running bullets for her 
 husband to take with him down to Boston Neck to 
 help expel the perfidious foe. As I may have said be- 
 fore, I came from England in 1839 in the steamship 
 "Liverpool," commanded by Captain Frayer, who 
 was a Lieutenant on the "Orpheus," and seemed to 
 be more familiar with the Narragansett coast than I 
 was. As soon as he learned that I came from that for- 
 mer charming summer abode of the gods, his heart 
 warmed to me as a brother, and it really seemed as if 
 
 c 319 :i 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 he could not do enough to make my voyage pleasant. 
 He told me that he had command of one of the boats 
 that pursued the " Whampoa," and that he would 
 give a guinea to see an old Quaker that was plowing 
 on the shore a little north of where the " Whampoa" 
 lay, who, so far as he could discern, never once turned 
 his head to look at the Flotilla, that was raining can- 
 non-balls like hail in his direction, but kept on making 
 furrows with his yoke of oxen all the same as he would 
 have done had all been peace and quietness. I have 
 since learned that the old Quaker, as Capt. Frayer 
 erroneously termed him, was no other than Governor 
 George Brown's foreman farmer, the late John Perry, 
 father of Robinson Perry, and five other highly re- 
 spected sons, now living in South Kingstown (John, 
 the Town Clerk, among others), and cousin to Com- 
 modore Oliver H. Perry, who (the Commodore), on 
 a somewhat similar occasion, showed a like disregard 
 to British cannon whilst he was passing in an open 
 boat, somewhere on Lake Erie, from his own burn- 
 ing ship to another, to lead her on to victory. I want 
 all readers to understand that Commodore Oliver Haz- 
 ard Perry was a genuine Narragansett boy from the 
 crown of his head to the tip of his big toe ! I knew 
 Governor George Brown pretty well. He was a capi- 
 tal specimen of the courtly Narragansett gentlemen of 
 the olden time, very tall, as straight as an arrow, and 
 always superbly dressed when he went abroad, up to 
 his dying day, at the age of ninety-two. Once upon 
 a time, when party ran high, my father was a can- 
 didate for State Senator from South Kingstown, and 
 was elected. In the height of voting at Litde Rest, 
 
 C 320 ] 
 
TWENTY -THIRD BAKING 
 
 when nearly every freeman in the town was present, 
 S. Northup, a drunken freeholder, on presenting his 
 ballot exclaimed, at the top of his voice, ' ' I want every 
 man here to know that I vote for Rowland Hazard in 
 spite of a man who lives on Boston Neck, who wants 
 me to scratch him oflp the prox, the three first letters 
 of whose name is Governor George Brown." 
 
 To return to the fishes of Narragansett, my brother 
 Joseph further writes : ' ' Do you remember the Lam- 
 phear who sold his old homestead in Charlestown to a 
 Mr. Foster, and forgot to reserve his family graveyard? 
 A bitter feud afterwards sprung up between Lamphear 
 and Foster. In the course of time Lamphear died, and 
 his friends, knowing Foster's implacable temper, de- 
 cided it would be useless to apply to him for permission 
 to lay his remains beside his father's in the family burial 
 ground, and began to make preparations for burying 
 them elsewhere. One of Lamphear's friends, however, 
 determined to see Foster on the subject, and was sur- 
 prised to find that he gave his consent to have Lam- 
 phear's defunct body buried on his ground, not only 
 willingly but cheerfully. This was a great surprise to 
 aU who knew Foster, and remained a mystery until 
 some months afterward, when some neighbor queried 
 with Foster to know why he so readily gave his consent 
 on that occasion. ' ' Oh, ' ' said Foster, ' ' never fear but I 
 will find land for as many Lamphears as anybody will 
 find to bury ! ' ' Says my brother Joe, ' ' Classic ground 
 is the valley of the Pettaquamscutt and its surround- 
 ing ridges. What a treasure to-day would be a full 
 history of it. Whally, the regicide, Gilbert Stuart, and 
 the Minturns all lived in its upper regions. The un- 
 C 321 j 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 fortunate Hannah Robinson's father's farm was also 
 bounded by it on the west, and also Francis Willet's, 
 2nd mayor of New York. ' ' I may just here be allowed 
 to say, with becoming modesty, that the pathetic story 
 of the unfortunate Hannah Robinson has been writ- 
 ten by Shepherd Tom and published in a superb vol- 
 ume, ^^ by John H. Sanborn, of the Newport Mercury^ 
 which all readers of faultless taste and cultivated genius 
 and feeling cannot fail to perceive is the most thrill- 
 ing, entertaining, soul-subduing, and instructive book 
 that has been issued by the press, either in America 
 or Europe. My brother Joseph continues : "You know 
 of the three famous Irish school-masters in Narragan- 
 sett, of the olden time, all high-bred gentlemen. Mas- 
 ters Kelly, Ridge, and Slauter, neither of whom were 
 ever known to commit an ungentlemanly act, or swerve 
 from the strictest rules of polite breeding. It used to 
 be told that Master Kelly once happened to stop at a 
 tavern where they gave him nothing but cold Indian 
 dumplings for dinner. In referring to the dinner after- 
 wards. Master Kelly said he had eaten a better and 
 seen a worse dinner. Then there was Master Gano, as 
 late as 1820-30, another Irish gentleman school-mas- 
 ter, who would never stop to talk with anybody. He 
 was supposed to be a political renegade ; though he 
 would give no account of himself, he sometimes spoke 
 of his club in Dublin." 
 
 I may here say that James Robinson first engaged 
 Mr. Gano to come to Narragansett as tutor to his chil- 
 dren. He first kept his school in a small building near 
 the entrance gate of Mr. Robinson's farm, now theGov. 
 Sprague estate. I remember taking tea in company 
 
 C 322 ] 
 
tairway 
 l{o\ii^land 'Rj)binso}i House 
 
TWENTY -THIRD BAKING 
 
 with Gano on one occasion only at Mr. Robinson's. 
 He was very polite, but taciturn. There was a dish of 
 whortleberries on the table, which Gano declined being 
 helped to, although several times pressed. Finally Mrs. 
 Robinson asked him if he had ever eaten any whor- 
 tleberries? Gano replied that he had never eaten but 
 one, which made him sick! I have elsewhere related 
 an anecdote how Rowland Brown once, by preconcert- 
 ure with his friends, tested Master Slauter's proverbial 
 politeness. It was an occasion of a fox hunt, when, 
 after a hard day's chase, the party returned to Mr. 
 Brown's palatial mansion on Tower Hill, tired almost 
 to death, hungry as the devil. The table was quickly 
 spread, but nothing but a huge Indian bran pudding 
 appeared on it. Mr. Brown helped Master Slauter to a 
 goodly portion with repeated apologies for the extreme 
 meagreness of the fare, to all of which the old gentle- 
 man replied," Very good, Mr. Brown, very good," 
 suiting the action to his word by occasionally convey- 
 ing a morsel to his mouth. After the experiment had 
 been fully tested without Master Slauter indicating by 
 word or look any disapprobation, Mr. Brown ordered 
 a couple of splendid roast turkeys and fixings to be 
 brought in, to which he bountifully helped his Irish 
 guest, who, after taking a mouthful, turned urbanely to 
 his host and remarked, "A very great addition to the 
 supper, Mr. Brown." 
 
 "You will recollect," continues my brother Joe, 
 "that tradition says that all Point Judith used to be 
 kept clear of forest by the Indians so that they might 
 drive the game down there and kill it on the points of 
 rocks or in the water to which deer habitually flee when 
 
 C 323 ^ 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 pursued. All the old houses in Point Judith were framed 
 of heavy white pine timber that was cut in the north 
 and west part of the town. When the Champlin house 
 on our sister's farm in Point Judith was taken down, 
 a few years ago, the white pine sills, plates, and posts 
 from 12 to 18 inches square, were as sound as ^vhen 
 put in position a century and more ago. I may here 
 say that the old heavy timbered Rowland Brown two- 
 story house, more than one hundred feet in length, was 
 first built more than a mile north of the village, where 
 it lately stood, and was moved bodily over the uneven, 
 hilly, and rocky fields to its new site ; a piece of en- 
 gineering that would be almost marvelous even in our 
 day. This was done, it is said, because Mr. Brown 
 felt lonely in his isolated situation." 
 
 Again I extract from my brother Joe's voluminous 
 letter: "Of a later generation was Thomas B. Haz- 
 ard, 'Nailer Tom,' who lived in a white pine, heavily 
 framed house, in what is now Peace Dale, that was 
 taken down not long since. This was an old 'Niles 
 House,' and it is said that Capt. Kidd and his crew 
 used, not unfrequently, to resort there, and were en- 
 tertained by Mr. Niles, for days together, he finding 
 his account in furnishing a place in the wilderness 
 where the pirates might enjoy their wild reveling, such 
 excitement as freebooters and all men of evil habits of 
 life need and must have, if possible. Kidd and his com- 
 panions used to land, as tradition said, where the South 
 Pier now stands ; that was always a natural slip formed 
 by an outlying bar, and where small boats could land 
 at almost any time. Thomas B. Hazard told me that 
 in the field adjoining his house a piece of sword-belt 
 
 [ 324 ] 
 
TWENTY-THIRD BAKING 
 
 was plowed up, that he had seen, marked ' Artemus 
 Gould,' and with a couple of lines of amorous verse. 
 Thomas B. also told me that he once possessed a his- 
 tory of some of Kidd's cruises, in which the names of 
 his crews were recorded, and that among them was the 
 name of 'Artemus Ward,' a cognomen, probably, for 
 Gould. He said the book had been stolen from him." 
 And yet let me here say that with all this convincing 
 testimony wdthin its reach, the Journal of the 23d of 
 September has the temerity to question whether the 
 redoubtable pirate, Robert Kidd, or William, if you 
 please, ever buried a dollar of treasure anywhere in 
 Rhode Island, or anywhere else. I knew Thomas B. 
 Hazard, "Nailer Tom," like a book. He was one of 
 the most remarkable personages I was ever acquainted 
 with : a man who could relate entertaining anecdotes 
 three hours on every evening of the year, and then 
 begin with an entire new set for the whole of the next 
 year. They were generally of an illustrative character, 
 like the following: Some neighbor happening to remark 
 that now-a-days all the evils of the country seemed to 
 be charged on Old Jackson, the then President, Nailer 
 Tom said it made him think of an old, harmless man 
 named Grennold, who lived in Newport, when he was 
 a boy, whose name almost everybody associated, with- 
 out knowing why, with any evil that happened to be- 
 fall him. If, said he, a man chanced to lose a button off 
 his breeches, it was ' ' Damn Old Grennold. ' ' If another 
 happened to stub his toe, it was ' ' Damn Old Gren- 
 nold, ' ' and so on to the end of the chapter of accidents. 
 "Now," said Nailer Tom, "instead of damning Old 
 Grennold, everybody damns Old Jackson, and with as 
 [ 3^5 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 little reason in the one case as in the other." Nailer 
 Tom served his seven years' apprenticeship at black- 
 smithing, in Newport, with a man named Dodge, I 
 think, who did a good deal of ship work, sometimes 
 by the job, at others by the pound. Dodge's shop was 
 near Gravelly Point. When he was engaged in job 
 work, the question would be sometimes asked, "Mr. 
 Dodge, ain't you making that work rather hght?" 
 The reply would be : " Nobody can tell the strength of 
 iron." When, on the other hand, he would be doing 
 the ship work by the pound, the question would be 
 asked, "Mr. Dodge, ain't you making that work very 
 heavy?" The reply would be: "Nobody can tell the 
 power of the wind and the waves. ' ' My brother Joseph 
 continues: "Capt. John H. Saunders lived on Boston 
 Neck, and there built a three-masted schooner of about 
 seventy-five tons, the first I ever saw or heard of, and 
 Narragansett people wondered what he meant by such 
 an adventure. But these are to-day a most popular class 
 of vessels, some of them being of 900 tons burden. I 
 saw one a few days ago of 632 tons discharging a 
 cargo of bones at Plymouth, here in England, that she 
 had brought from Buenos Ayres, owned in Fall River, 
 Mass. It is a current fact^^ that the first power looms 
 ever used were started at Peace Dale, where at the 
 same time there was only a carding-shop and a flax- 
 seed oil mill." 
 
 I will here remark that I ought to know these facts 
 pretty well, for by turns I tended with my own hands 
 all three of the concerns my brother Joe mentions. 
 Thomas R. Williams, of Newport, invented the looms, 
 and started the first one in our oil mill. My father next 
 C 326 ] 
 
TWENTY. THIRD BAKING 
 
 bought four looms of Williams, and I run them on web- 
 bing and saddle girthing in the carding-shop. I have 
 woven more than one hundred yards a day on one of 
 these looms. The matter has been discussed, and, I 
 think, settled, with Providence county folks, that these 
 were the first power looms ever started in America, say 
 somewhere about 1814 or 1815, in spite of the Lyman 
 claim or others. At that time nearly every farmer in 
 the state raised flax for family use, and we could pro- 
 cure enough flax-seed in Rhode Island to run the mill ; 
 now there is probably not a bushel raised in the whole 
 state. We used to give one dollar a bushel for flax- 
 seed, and sell the oil for one dollar a gallon. I wish all 
 the readers of the Journal, who need a hearty laugh for 
 their health, could have been present once and seen 
 the face of a boy from Yorker (Yawgoo),**^ which hes 
 north of Kingston village, whilst I measured him out 
 a gallon of linseed oil. Everybody ought to know that 
 oil and water won't mix. The oil in the cask had got 
 so low that it would only trickle out of the spile, so to 
 help it along I would every now and then pour a little 
 water into the bung-hole of the cask. The boy said 
 nary a word, but such a look as he steadily regarded 
 me with, as he saw me, as he supposed, filling his jug 
 with oil and water, nobody but Hogarth could put on 
 canvas or paper, either in oil, water, or ink. 
 
 My father began to manufacture linsey-woolseys 
 about the year 1797, at which time he got the cotton 
 in the seed from Charleston, S. C. It came in "pock- 
 ets" of some seven pounds weight. The seeds were 
 picked out by hand, the cotton was then carded with 
 hand cards, spun on hand wheels, and woven on hand 
 [ 327 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 looms ; the wool used for the filling of the linsey was 
 carded, spun, and woven in the same way. When I 
 began to manufacture at Peace Dale in about 1814- 
 15, my wool was carded into rolls by machines. It was 
 then put out in bundles of some twenty -five to thirty 
 pounds each over half of Washington county to be spun 
 on hand wheels, then brought home, scoured and col- 
 ored and again put out to families living from one to 
 ten miles away, as before, to be woven on hand looms. 
 All this was done on horseback for eight or ten years, 
 there being no four-wheeled carriages or wagons, ex- 
 cept BUisha R. Potter's carriage, in the county. How 
 many millions of miles I have ridden through mud- 
 ice-rain-snow and storm whilst engaged in that busi- 
 ness, to say nothing of sunshine, I can't tell, and if I 
 could, it would not be believed. Sometimes to get the 
 yarn from one bundle of rolls in the hands of a delin- 
 quent spinner, I would take a journey on horseback 
 perhaps a dozen times, at a distance to and fro of as 
 many miles, and so again with the weaving. As Cap- 
 tain Bill Wilson has said elsewhere, " If I had a mouth 
 that would reach from pole to pole, and a tongue 
 as deep in my throat as the ocean, I could never tell 
 the trouble" I used to have with delinquent spinners 
 and weaving women in Narragansett. Some time ago 
 I stood by a stripling in one of the Peace Dale mills, 
 A\ ho was tending two spinning jennies, when I esti- 
 mated that he turned off as much yarn in one day as 
 seven hundred women used to spin for me in the same 
 time on hand wheels. 
 
 But whoa, whoa ! I say ! if I was to go on and give 
 a consecutive narrative of my manufacturing experi- 
 [ 328 ] 
 
TWENTY -THIRD BAKING 
 
 ences in detail, let alone my farming and sheep keeping, 
 all the Journals that were ever printed would not con- 
 tain the half of them! The fact was, I knew nothing 
 about manufacturing or machinery myself, and there 
 was then nobody in the country to learn of, and all my 
 experiences were purchased at the expense of the hard- 
 est kind of knocks. The first overseer of my factory, a 
 Mr. Larkin, I have known to fasten the crooked belt to 
 a stripper pulley with a tenpenny nail driven to its head 
 to keep it from running off, or as he expressed it, that 
 he might ' ' know where to find the darned thing. ' ' My 
 second overseer was a Quaker by the name of Warner, 
 who I set to tending the cards one morning, and then 
 went fishing for trout in the brook about ten feet from 
 the south end of the carding-shop. I hadn't been there 
 long before I heard a violent crash in the shop window, 
 and then was splashed from head to foot by a great 
 thing falling in the water not a yard from my feet, 
 which, on closer inspection, I found to be the fancy cyl- 
 inder of my finishing card. I hastened into the carding- 
 shop, where I found the floor strewn with card strip- 
 pers, chain rollers, &c. , in dire confusion. Warner was 
 looking round about as if to find something, and on 
 my asking what it was, he said he by accident dropped 
 his felt hat between the in forward stripper and fore 
 tumbler of the pesky machine, but as he could not find 
 it, he guessed it must have got kearded up. So with- 
 out more ado he commenced picking up the broken 
 pieces and putting them in place, and on lifting the 
 fancy box he found his broad-brimmed hat beneath it, 
 which looked as if it might have been in the posses- 
 sion of a couple of frolicsome young bears or more for 
 [ 329 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 an hour or two. My next head overseer was a professed 
 scientist from Providence count}^ He was a perfect 
 "know-all." His first move was to take from the 
 carding machines all the workers or "chain rollers," 
 as they were then called, and set the fore tumbler and 
 doff an inch or less off from the main cyHnder. This, 
 he said, kept the rolls from knotting. It did in a meas- 
 ure, but the wool was so litde worked by the card that 
 the Foul Fiend himself could not make it into yarn of 
 any less size than the roll itself. I soon sent Alexander, 
 that was the name of the scientist, back to Provi- 
 dence — and put up posters for another overseer of my 
 woolen-room, which consisted of one single breaker, 
 a finisher, and a picker, the teeth of which last were 
 made of spikes six inches in length and mor'n an inch 
 in diameter, firmly set in a four-inch timbered slotted 
 cylinder, some three feet in diameter and four feet in 
 length, that whisked round in a still heavier frame, full 
 of teeth of the same size as those in the cylinder. The 
 wool in those days was apt to be very cotted, and when 
 I put that kind into the rising and falling feed-box, 
 some half a pound at once, and raised it up so as to 
 bring and keep the unpicked wool in contact with the 
 teeth of the picker, I always kept a bright look-out be- 
 cause I had known the chair on which I sat in front 
 knocked all to smash by the flying teeth and broken 
 timbers of the devilish thing, just as I had sprung from 
 it with all the velocity terror could inspire. About noon 
 one pleasant summer day a gentleman by the name of 
 Dickens presented himself in striped tow-cloth jacket 
 and breeches and offered his services as a professional 
 wool-carder. Said I, "Mr. Dickens, are you pretty 
 
 C 330 ] 
 
TWENTY -THIRD BAKING 
 
 well acquainted with the process of carding wool?" 
 ' ' Process ! ' ' said he, ' 'what 's that? ' ' Said I, " Do you 
 know how to card wool? " " I guess, ' ' said he, ' ' I mout 
 ought to know, for I used to help granny keard wool 
 before I was knee-high to a hoppergrass ! ' ' Just at this 
 moment I threw the main belt on my breaking card. 
 The expression of the boy's countenance whilst I was 
 watering the oil, as before described, would not, in all 
 its multitudinous aspects, in the least compare with 
 the mingled look of surprise, consternation, horror, and 
 terror that now pervaded the features of Mr. Dickens. 
 Turning his awestruck eyes first to the driving drum 
 over his head, next to the whirling carding machine, 
 and lastly on me, he gave a yell and then a spring for 
 the open door, out of which he shot like a winged 
 arrow. My curiosity was awakened by this rapid tran- 
 sit, and I hastened to the nearest window. Dickens had, 
 by the time I got there, reached a five and a half foot 
 single wall that stood about twenty rods from the fac- 
 tory, over which he flew without touching a stone, and 
 held his way on in a bee line for the pier, looking as 
 he went more like a streak of lightning than anything 
 on legs. I afterwards learned that when Dickens 
 reached the pier, he jumped frantically into his boat, 
 and in an incredible short time rowed to the island, 
 where he spread a report that ' ' Shepherd Tom ' ' had 
 got the infarnal machine over there in 'Gansett that 
 they blowed up Bonaparte with; and yet under all these 
 difficult and trying circumstances, and thousands more 
 like them, and even worse than they. Pioneer Shepherd 
 Tom, after paying every debt, succeeded in realizing 
 a competency in about his 40th year, and then retired 
 C 331 J 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 entirely from active business, and has ever since then 
 diligently labored without a farthing's pecuniary pay, 
 or hope or wish for reward, for the good of mankind 
 at large, according to the best light God and His 
 angels have bestowed upon him, and ever expects to 
 continue so to work, not only throughout all time, but 
 eternity. Nor does he seek or wish a better or a happier 
 lot either here or hereafter than that which results from 
 doing unselfish good. "God save the State of Rhode 
 Island and Providence Plantations," and all the rest 
 of the world, man, beast, bird, fish, and reptile in- 
 cluded. 
 
 "In those days," continues my brother Joe, "the 
 mass of the laboring class in Narragansett, though 
 often given to drink, were honest, and generally took 
 pride in doing a good day's work, so as to fairly earn 
 their wages, M^hich were from six to eight dollars a 
 month and board for the eight warm months. Manual 
 day labor was almost always paid in kind, that is, half 
 a bushel of corn or four pounds of salt pork and board 
 for a day's work from sunrise to sunset. For moMang 
 the price was double. The laboring people were mostly 
 idle in the winter, but supported themselves by chor- 
 ing, clamming, and fishing, and now and then a day's 
 work for the farmers. They always made it a point of 
 honor to keep out of the poor-house or "off the town," 
 as they expressed it, nor would they permit a near 
 relative to be placed there if any of the family could 
 support them. 
 
 "Churches, there were next to none, and there was 
 very little avarice among the laborers — a few of whom 
 occasionally attended the Quaker and ''new lighf meet- 
 l 332 ] 
 
TWENTY-THIRD BAKING 
 
 ings. There were a few thieves, but they were marked 
 men ; if anything was stolen, it would be generally 
 known pretty nearly who did it. Bill Carter was the 
 thief who robbed Asa Steadman of his pork while he 
 lay abed confined by the rheumatism. Asa was poor — 
 so he sent for Bill and asked him if he did not think 
 a man must be very bad to rob one so poor and help- 
 less as himself of his winter's provision. To this Car- 
 ter gravely replied : ' Mr. Steadman, it is my opinion 
 that anybody that is bad enough to steal is no respecter 
 of persons.' 
 
 ' ' I think it was old John Smith whom you caught 
 stealing your wood, and who replied to your rebuke, 
 that he ' always thought it was rulable in Narragan- 
 sett for a man to have wood for cutting and back- 
 ing it.' 
 
 "I think it was Jonathan N. Hazard who missed 
 his axe, and on meeting black Jim Tefft (a noted thief, 
 whom he suspected), asked him when he was going to 
 bring back the axe he stole from him. Jim seemed hor- 
 rified at the charge and defended himself stoutly. Jona- 
 than expressed surprise at Jim's alleged innocence, 
 and remarked that he could not think of any one else 
 who would steal it ! But Jim got in the last word when 
 he rejoined, 'Mr. Hazard, you may depend upon it, 
 there is a great deal stole around here on my credit ! ' 
 In those days doors of houses in Narragansett were 
 seldom locked at night. My gold watch, costing $160, 
 lay for years on a table by my chamber window on 
 the ground floor, almost always, night and day, for I 
 seldom wore it except when I went on a journey, and 
 the window was almost always open, and people pass- 
 C 333 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 ing by continually, but it was never disturbed. This 
 was at a period when there was no church in Narra- 
 gansett, except one at Kingston. Now we have nearly 
 a dozen churches, and a door-mat is scarcely safe on 
 the step at night. Even hen roosts must be locked, and 
 thieving is everywhere and burglary frequent. Rum- 
 shops are viler than ever, poor-houses are crowded, 
 whilst some of the inmates have friends who could eas- 
 ily support them, but avarice has been awakened to 
 a degree, of late, that it is scarcely less dangerous or 
 wicked in its influence than midnight robbery itself. 
 
 You must remember old Gardiner Kenyon, who lived 
 on Point Judith and died at the age of ninety. He had 
 been in bed some days with illness, when, on hearing 
 his wife direct a daughter to send for a doctor, he cried 
 out,' Wife, don't bring any doctor into my room: I 
 have concluded to die a natural death.' 
 
 "I consider the Sweets a most remarkable family, 
 not only as natural bone-setters, but as an innocent, 
 inoffensive, easy-going, happy people, with no particu- 
 lar calling or occupation; yet never victims of poverty, 
 or even rich enough to excite avarice, excepting in 
 one instance, and he a farmer. 
 
 The Tuckers of Narragansett are also a very re- 
 markable family. Not enterprising, but steady work- 
 ers, farmers on a small scale, generally. Steady, indus- 
 trious, self-reliant, thoughtful, with fixed principles, 
 and, as a rule, highly conscientious, full of moral cour- 
 age, as well as physical, and so devoted to principles 
 that I have no doubt a regiment of them, fighting in 
 a cause that they espoused from principle (and they 
 would willingly fight for no other), would whip any 
 
 C 334 J 
 
TWENTY-THIRD BAKING 
 
 two merely military regiments that could be brought 
 against them from any part of the world. 
 
 ' ' I presume you have not forgotten that remarkable 
 man, Hazard Knowles, of Conanicut, nor his idiotic 
 son, who, when his father once broke through the ice, 
 called to his son to help him out, which he declined 
 doing, saying, "I see that farm coming to me now 
 [by inheritance, of course] ." 
 
 I may here say that I knew the Hazard Knowles 
 my brother alludes to pretty well. He was the wealthi- 
 est farmer in his day in Conanicut, if not in the state. 
 He was the father of several highly respected and effi- 
 cient sons, besides the idiotic one, whom I have heard 
 the old man say was fit for nothing but a ' ' member 
 of Congress." I was once hastening on foot across the 
 island of Conanicut, to take the steamboat for New 
 York, and much feared that I should be too late, when 
 I saw this idiotic son of Hazard Knowles tearing 
 through an adjacent field and frantically crying to me 
 to stop, which, from the apparent urgency of the case 
 I did until he reached me, all out of breath . ' ' What, ' ' 
 said I, hurriedly, " is the matter! " "Do stop a min- 
 ute, ' ' said he, ' ' while I play a tune for you on my corn- 
 stalk fiddle." 
 
 Well, now, if that don't beat the diable ! I have just 
 read over this "baking," in which I promised my 
 readers to finish up my fish story, and will be whipped 
 if I can find a word about fish in it, although I have 
 written about almost everything else in creation. The 
 fact is, I am just about going to leave home, and in 
 my hurry and confusion of ideas I mistook the date of 
 my brother Joe's letter, and got hold of a wrong one. 
 C 335 2 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 But there is no use in crying over spilt milk. So I must 
 let this go to the Journal, so as to pacify my impatient 
 readers until I can find time to do the fish of Narra- 
 gansett. 
 
 I 336 ] 
 
Twenty-Fourth Baking 
 
 Now I have got my foot into it, I may just as 
 well keep it there until I finish the remainder of 
 my brother Joe's letter, concerning which I made such 
 a horrid mistake, before I proceed to tell anything more 
 about Narragansett fish; after which I fully intend, 
 when the slippery things are all done for, to tell how 
 ' ' Phillis, my grandfather's ' ' — but no more of that for 
 the present, for as Will Shakespeare's King Lear said, 
 "Madness lies that way." Towards the close of my 
 brother Joe's letter, he says: "Lands in Point Judith 
 and Boston Neck appear to have been largely bought 
 up by Boston capitalists at an early period, and the de- 
 mand in the West Indies for New England farm prod- 
 ucts, not only grain, cheese, &c. , but mules and horses, 
 seems to have warranted such a proceeding. Every part 
 of Narragansett Bay seems to have had one or more 
 trading vessels to the West Indies, whereby the farm- 
 ers were enabled to get for their products the cash to 
 build large houses all over the new rural districts, ad- 
 jacent thereto, and to live in style and enjoy many lux- 
 uries." I will just remark here that my father used 
 to say that his grandfather, Robert Hazard, owned 
 two schooners that traded to the West Indies from 
 the South Ferry, their outward-bound cargoes being 
 largely furnished by the produce of his own farms, he 
 raising annually one hundred horses for export to the 
 West Indies, besides great quantities of cheese. We 
 used to have in our house one of his cheese vats which 
 held nearly a bushel, and it was said that he had twelve 
 C 337 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 cheeses made a day in the height of the season, of its 
 size. Barley was also extensively raised on the shore 
 farms in South Kingstown in earlier times, and im- 
 mense crops of potatoes, after Thomas G. Hazard, of 
 Boston Neck, introduced the use of sea -weed as a 
 manure. By the by, I don't think there was exactly so 
 much cash brought from the West Indies in those days 
 as my brother Joe seems to think. The return cargoes 
 were mostly molasses, a large part of which was dis- 
 tilled in rum for home use, and the Guinea trade. 
 Again, farm produce was shipped to the West Indies 
 and exchanged for sugar and molasses that was car- 
 ried to England and France, and exchanged for Euro- 
 pean goods. For a long time America was supplied with 
 foreign goods mostly in that roundabout way. Mo- 
 lasses, too, was a great medium of barter. The South 
 Kingstown town records show that many large farms 
 in that town were exclusively sold for molasses. Says 
 my brother Joseph : ' ' Jas . Potter , son of Elisha R . (whose 
 mother was a Mauney of Huguenot descent), built the 
 first stone house in South Kingstown (at the South 
 Ferry) in about 1845. 1 built the second one, and laid the 
 foundation of it at my Sea Side farm in Point Judith, 
 in 1846. That house is popularly known as 'the Castle,' 
 but the title is entirely repudiated by me. I had the 
 entire foundation of the building laid by John Noka 
 (originally pronounced No-cake), an Indian of the Nar- 
 ragansett tribe, or as near one as any other then living 
 (about half-blood), he being a most excellent mason, a 
 quality common to the Narragansett tribe of Indians 
 and their descendants. The Narragansetts seem to 
 have been a remarkable race of Indians." Of course 
 
 C 338 ] 
 
TWENTY- FOURTH BAKING 
 
 they were. Let me here ask in parenthesis, what thing 
 of any kind, mineral, vegetable, animal, or human, was 
 there ever raised or produced in Narragansett, that 
 wonderful land and home of the gods and goddesses of 
 antiquity, and long before that^ that was not a good deal 
 more than remarkable? Not so gentle, as were the fa- 
 mous Mandans of Louisiana (or Texas, perhaps), but 
 a people of great courage and energy, very industrious, 
 and excellent workers, either as farm laborers, masons, 
 or other mechanical pursuits. "I had a particular object 
 in employing Noka to lay the foundation of my stone 
 house, which he did all himself, besides working on 
 the superstructure from beginning to end, for I meant 
 the house to be a record for the Narragansett tribe, a 
 monument to it, as it were. I dare say you recollect the 
 old Narragansett story that was the occasion and gave 
 rise to the saying, 'Boston folks are full of notions.' 
 It seems that a Narragansett Indian who followed the 
 tinman's trade, was in the habit of going down to Bos- 
 ton every spring to ply his vocation as a tinker, and 
 usually returned in the course of sixty days or so, with 
 his pockets full of small change that he so obtained. 
 On the last occasion of this kind, however, it was 
 observed that the tinker returned from Boston within 
 two or three weeks of the time he left his tribe. This 
 excited the curiosity of his fellows, but nothing was 
 known of the cause until some two years afterwards, 
 when another of the tribe happened to go down to Bos- 
 ton. On his return to Narragansett, he reported that 
 the tinman had been caught stealing in Boston and 
 was whipped at the cart's tail therefor. It was not long 
 before some one of the tribe asked the tinker why he 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 left Boston so soon on the occasion of his last visit to 
 that town. Said the tinker, in reply, ' Oh, these Boston 
 folks be full of notions,' and hence the origin of the 
 current saying. 
 
 ' ' The Indian grave-yard on their little territory in 
 Charlestown must be an interesting spot. I am told the 
 graves are made of stone from bottom to top and very 
 solid, at least the old ones. I do not know if you remem- 
 ber the two coverts that the Narragansetts had, from 
 which they watched in early times against the depre- 
 dations of Indians in canoes from the Island of Aquid- 
 neck. Both of these coverts are made at points where 
 canoes would easiest land. One of them is just below 
 the South Pier, near by the natural slip formed by a 
 bar on which the pier is built. The other covert is on 
 'Little Neck,' close to the west bank of the Narrow 
 river and nearly opposite the Hopkins rock that is on 
 the river shore of Thomas Potter's Boston Neck farm, 
 and only a short distance below the lower or third 
 Narrow river bridge that was built about 1847. The 
 traces left of the covert show it to have been of an oval 
 shape, about thirty feet long. The space was, since I 
 knew it, well defined by a little oval trench, dug in 
 the ground, the earth being thrown up on one edge of 
 it, all around and about a foot above the general level. 
 These trenches and ridges are well preserved by the 
 tough sward that the rich soihvould naturally produce. 
 They were probably designed to drain off the water 
 that might accumulate in stormy weather within the 
 coverts, and keep the bark or othenvise covered tents 
 of the native " coast guard " comfortable. I have often 
 visited and examined both these Indian coverts. The 
 
 C 340 ] 
 
TWENTY- FOURTH BAKING 
 
 one at Narrow river (Pettaquamscutt), however, has 
 been lately ignorantly or barbarously plowed down. 
 The other covert by the pier is intact, but has been 
 somewhat damaged of late years, and I fear must soon 
 disappear unless measures be taken for its preserva- 
 tion. They attracted my attention many years ago, and 
 I learned from old folks at the time that their origin 
 and purpose were such as I have described, a tradition 
 that their location seems to fully justify. Of this most 
 interesting race considerable trace was left during our 
 own earlier period of life. Several of the Narragansett 
 tribe, half-bloods or mixed, fought in the Revolution- 
 ary War. Old Guy Watson, whom we used to see so 
 often attending elections, courts, and the General As- 
 sembly in his Continental regimental coat, was one 
 of these. Guy was at Fort Ticonderoga; he also helped 
 Captain Prescott and fought at Red Bank, as did also 
 a Mr. Hazard of Newport, whom I have heard shot 
 Count or Baren Dunlap dead in his saddle. James 
 Warmsly, who lived in a house of James and John 
 Sherman's on the Old Kingston road, was a half-blood 
 Indian, and not a man of any color or condition in 
 Narragansett was more truly and sincerely respected 
 than he. Rhode Island had probably not a single citizen 
 who was more uj^right and correct in his daily walk 
 than this humble, laboring, half-blood Indian. The last 
 King of the Narragansetts was 'King Tom,' I think. 
 Brother Isaac bought his chair of state of somebody, 
 and also a little copper kettle that he used. Brother Row- 
 land has the chair now, and perhaps the kettle." 
 
 I will just here say in parenthesis, that I think my 
 brother Joseph is under a wrong impression as to King 
 C 341 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Tom being the last King of the Charlestovvn tribe of 
 Narragansett Indians. Queen Esther, his only sister, 
 succeeded to the throne after King Tom's death. Wm. 
 Kenyon, late of Charlestown, saw Queen Esther 
 crowned in about 1776, as he writes to Mr. Wilkins 
 Updike. "She was elevated on a large rock, so that the 
 people might see her. The council surrounded her. 
 There were present about twenty Indian soldiers with 
 guns. They marched her to the rock. The Indians 
 nearest the royal blood, in presence of her counselors, 
 put the crown on her head. It was made of cloth cov- 
 ered with blue and white peage. When the crown was 
 put on the Queen's head, the soldiers fired a royal 
 salute and huzzahed in the Indian tongue. The cere- 
 mony was imposing, and everything was conducted 
 with great order . Then the soldiers waited on the Queen 
 to her house, and fired salutes. There were 500 natives 
 present, besides others. Queen Esther left one son 
 named George ; he was crowned after the death of his 
 mother. I was enlisting soldiers and went to him, and 
 asked him to enlist as a soldier in the Revolutionary 
 War. The squaws objected and told me he was their 
 King. ' ' King George was killed by the falling of a tree, 
 in the 22d year of his age. ' ' No King, ' ' says Updike, 
 "was ever crowned after him, and not an Indian of the 
 whole blood, now (1847), remains in the tribe. ' ' I used 
 to hear Molly Hazard tell a good deal about Queen Es- 
 ther, who was often at her father's [Sylvester Robin- 
 son, son of Gov. Wm. R.] . Queen Esther was imbued 
 with a haughty spirit, and could not be induced to 
 speak a word of English, averring that she would never 
 speak the language of the destroyer of her people. 
 C 342 J 
 
TWENTY- FOURTH BAKING 
 
 Now that I have got through with that unfortunate 
 wrong letter, I propose in earnest to take up the right 
 one, and finish up the fish of Narragansett without 
 further delay, and then proceed to show how Phillis, 
 &c. So here I begin anew with the Narragansett fish : 
 "The clumsy and apparently helpless woodchuck 
 (ground hog of Pennsylvania)," continues my brother 
 Joe," holds out amazingly in Narragansett, for he can 
 neither fight nor run, and every farmer is his mortal 
 enemy and trains his dog especially to kill him." I 
 will say here in parenthesis, that I used to know one 
 farmer who was too tender-hearted to even kill a wood- 
 chuck. It was old Mr. Babcock, who lived just north 
 of the Commodore Perry farm, in Matoonek. A wood- 
 chuck had dug his hole in Babcock 's bean patch and 
 committed great depredations on the crop. Babcock 
 used occasionally to waylay and catch the woodchuck, 
 when he would whip him severely, but always let him 
 go with a renewed reminder that it would be worse for 
 him next time, if he did not let his beans alone. ' ' Yet, ' ' 
 continues Joe, " they do not seem to yield much. I have 
 them about my house, but I allow nothing killed on 
 my farm, not even a skunk or a snake." 
 
 I may just here remark in a short parenthesis that 
 my brother Joe's mention of a snake brings to my mind 
 the immense black-snakes that used to prevail in Nar- 
 ragansett, held by old Dick Corey to be lineal descend- 
 ants of that great fiend of human progress, the snake 
 mentioned in Genesis. This is the same Dick Corey 
 who, as I have said before, used to tell of a black-snake 
 he encountered in the Wilson woods, north-east of 
 Peace Dale, whilst he was huckleberry ing, that was 
 C 343 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 as long as a fence rail and carried on his head a car- 
 buncle as big as a tea-kettle. The letter continues: 
 "Nor have I for thirty-five years. But the woodchuck 
 seems to be everywhere, despite the farmers, who so 
 hate him for the little corn he eats. ' ' My brother Joseph 
 ought here to have added "and beans." I have heard 
 old Enoch Lewis say that when he was a boy they used 
 to make better beans and corn in Narragansett with- 
 out any corn in it than they then did with both beans 
 and corn. Old Enoch lived in the house that stood, when 
 I was young, on the bank of a big gully right at Co- 
 lumbia Corner, that was all washed out in one thun- 
 der-storm. Friends (or Quakers) rode by the place on 
 their way to meeting at the old meeting-house that used 
 to stand upon the elbow of the road near the ' ' Tower 
 Hill House," ^^ and on their way back, two hours later, 
 from meeting, there was a gully washed out some forty 
 or fifty feet deep, and thousands of loads of gravel 
 carried into the old coon (now Wakefield) mill-pond. 
 Enoch used to say that he was one of the boys that 
 used to ride between Narragansett and Virginia, to 
 bring and carry back the fast horses that were fur- 
 nished by the Virginia gentlemen to compete with 
 the still faster Narragansett horses on the race course 
 then so common in this blessed country. 
 
 My brother Joe continues : " I dare say the wood- 
 chuck of Rhode Island, or ground hog of Pennsylva- 
 nia, does more good than harm, as even the crow is 
 found to do. I have long observed that where farm- 
 ers are the most intelligent the least objection exists to 
 what are supposed to be noxious animals and birds. 
 In Scotland moles have not been killed for twenty- 
 C 344 ] ^ 
 
TWENTY -FOURTH BAKING 
 
 five years past, but I found in exploring England, that 
 mole catching was there a common pursuit, as I think 
 it is yet to some extent. About the year 1837, 1 stood 
 on a hill on Ram Island, a part of the old Carder Haz- 
 ard farm, now called the Foddering Place, in Point 
 Judith, when in about thirty acres of land (the area 
 of the island), we counted fourteen woodchucks all 
 in sight at the same time, most of them standing up 
 on their haunches by their holes in the ground, look- 
 ing at us." Christopher Robinson's pond (now Silver 
 Lake) was full of fish in 1820 and later, such as sun- 
 fish, white and yellow perch (some of them weighing 
 two and three pounds), pickerel, and some catfish. 
 When I first went from West Town school to Nar- 
 ragansett I recollect of going to this pond to fish one 
 afternoon, and caught four hundred fish. I was per- 
 fectly amazed, for to get a dozen a day at Bristol on 
 the Delaware, even of sunfish (called pumpkin seeds in 
 contempt in Narragansett) , would be a grand piece of 
 luck. My surprise was such that I finally concluded, 
 strange as it seems to be, that the people of Narragan- 
 sett had never learned that there were any fish in " Kit's 
 pond. ' ' I was but thirteen years old and perfectly mys- 
 tified. It did not occur to me that the big fish of the 
 sea was the attraction, nor did I know then that even 
 the laboring people of Narragansett abhorred the idea 
 of eating fresh-water fish, with the exception of trout, 
 as was really the case. The same feeling existed then 
 (I wish it had continued) in regard to small birds. To 
 have eaten a blackbird or robin, or anything of the sort 
 short of teal, wild ducks, green-headed plover, grass 
 plover, curlews, partridges, woodcock, snipe, and 
 C 345 2 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 quails, would have been as repugnant to their taste 
 as the eating of rats and mice. Unfortunately, some 
 one conceived the idea of making Kit's pond profit- 
 able, and stocked it with pike. These pike have now 
 pretty much cleared out all other fish, and hold about 
 full possession of the pond. Some of them, I think, 
 weigh seven or eight pounds. I may just here say that 
 I used to hear of pike taken in the Snuff mill-pond, 
 where Gilbert Stuart was born, that would weigh from 
 twenty-five to thirty pounds each. " Minks have been 
 pretty much exterminated in Narragansett because of 
 the high price obtained for their skins. Weasels, some 
 of them white, still remain, and should be protected 
 to keep down the guinea rat, now so common and de- 
 structive all over the southern part of Rhode Island. 
 The guinea rat is a curse brought from Africa, in slave- 
 ships, that have exterminated the native blue rat of the 
 country." Just let me here add, as the pale-faced men 
 of England have exterminated not only the red men 
 of the Narragansett country, but of nearly all North 
 America. " Some years ago muskrats were numbered 
 by thousands in the ponds about the sea-coast in Nar- 
 ragansett. Their skins were then worth four cents each. 
 Soon after these rose in market to seven cents apiece, 
 muskrats almost entirely disappeared. Thomas B. Haz- 
 ard, that remarkable man, a perfect chronicle, told 
 me that he remembered when the last wolf was killed 
 in Narragansett, at the upper end of Boston Neck, in 
 about 1750." I will just here say that when I was a 
 boy, I used to hear a good deal about a wolf that came 
 to his death in what is to this day called the ' ' Wolf 
 Bog," on the north border of Peace Dale. The story 
 
 c; 346 :i 
 
TWENTY -FOURTH BAKING 
 
 ran after this wise : A big gray wolf gave chase to an 
 old slab-sided, long-bodied, sharp-nosed sow of what 
 was then called the land-shark breed, which kind of 
 swine the late William French, of Kingston, always 
 contended made the best pork and hams of any breed 
 of swine, which I, too, think is the fact. Just before 
 the old sow reached the edge of the aforesaid bog, the 
 wolf grabbed her with his teeth, by the end of her 
 tail, which caused the terrified creature to increase her 
 speed so marvelously that, as old Jim Newberry, who 
 was cutting wood near by, said, neither the sow nor 
 the wolf could be separately discerned with the naked 
 eye, they somewhat resembling a streak of lightning 
 as they passed along, only rather quicker in motion ; 
 so quick, in fact, that the terror-stricken old sow in 
 her heedless course plunged directly through a maple 
 tree two feet in diameter that stood in her way, drag- 
 ging the gray wolf after her more than half his length, 
 when he was caught by the rebound of the maple jwst 
 forward of his hips and so held secure until Jim New- 
 berry (whom I used to know) came forward and dis- 
 patched him with his wood axe. This story may be 
 rather tough for people of contracted minds to swal- 
 low, much less digest ; but yet it would seem to rest on 
 a foundation, else why has the boggy swale where the 
 wolf came to his end always to this day been known as 
 ,»the wolf bog? Beavers were gone before our day, but 
 a panther (from the north, probably) was killed by a 
 twelve-year-old boy in Hopkinton about the year 1819. 
 The boy and beast were both exhibited." I may be 
 permitted here to say, in parenthesis, that I remember 
 all about this affair well. The boy that killed the big 
 
 C 347 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 panther, weighing, if I remember, a good deal over one 
 hundred pounds avoirdupois, if not one hundred and 
 fiftv, was out in the woods with his younger brother. 
 When they discovered the huge creature up in a chest- 
 nut tree, the twelve-year-old boy told his little brother 
 to keep watch of the animal until he could run to the 
 house and get his father's big gun, which happened 
 to be loaded a\ ith ball or very big shot. When the 
 twelve-year-old got back he told his little brother to 
 stand before him, so that when he kneeled doA\n to fire 
 he might rest the heavy gun on his shoulder. This the 
 little fellow did, and so the two together shot to death 
 the huge beast at the first fire. 
 
 ' ' The negroes, ' ' continues Joe, ' ' are a superior race 
 to the whites in many respects. They have loving, 
 feminine hearts, the highest endowment of nature. 
 The religious element is preeminently active in them. 
 They possess great natural sagacity, quick perception, 
 and high respect for human nature, as demonstrated 
 in their courtesy to each other, their equals, as well 
 as towards other races. They have, also, great self- 
 respect naturally. Their social faculty is very large, 
 and they more delight in mere social intercourse than 
 any other race I ever saw in my travels through a large 
 portion of the world. They have great po^^'er of in- 
 sight into the character of those they meet. They 
 are graceful in manner and movement, as well as de-.» 
 portment, especially their women. The most queenly- 
 looking woman I ever saw was a mulatto, aged about 
 forty, who is living in Narragansett now. Their state- 
 liness of walk is verv striking . It sometimes rises to 
 the majestic at the South; but this may be the result 
 [ 348 ] 
 
TWENTY- FOURTH BAKING 
 
 in part from the colored people in that portion of our 
 country habitually bearing their burthens on their 
 heads. The Hindoos also have it, who, by the way, 
 have, without doubt, great natural capacity that is not 
 at all appreciated or understood by European races, 
 but which will take form some day in a movement 
 that will astonish the world." 
 
 I think there is a great deal of truth in what my 
 brother Joe says about the negro race. There were 
 many of the old Narragansett negroes who had served 
 cultured masters and mistresses who possessed the most 
 courtly breeding and manners. There was old Bristor 
 Gardiner, whose manner and bearing would have done 
 honor to a President of the United States. My father 
 was once keeping bachelor's hall many years ago in 
 the Rodman House, at the old mill (now Wakefield), 
 which he then owned, and leased out to Rodman Car- 
 penter. A fine loin of veal had been roasted for dinner 
 one day, which was set up for the next day's dinner 
 without being cut, we having unexpectedly got our 
 dinner abroad. Next morning my father, chancing to 
 go into the kitchen, found Bristor sitting alone at a 
 table regaling himself on a loin of veal. The old darkey 
 immediately arose from his seat, and with the most 
 polite demeanor and manner, greeted my father, and 
 then patronizingly observed with a bow that might 
 have excited the envy of Chesterfield, " Master Haz- 
 ard, I have brought a peck of corn this morning to 
 your mill, to grind ! " The toll of the corn, one pint — 
 which went, of course, to the miller — at that time 
 might be worth one cent, but what could my father say 
 or do but smile at the polite assurance of the courtly 
 
 C 349 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 old customer. "There are," continues, after a while, 
 my brother Joe, ' ' millions of fine sea perch (one of the 
 best of fish) in the Salt pond at all seasons, and myri- 
 ads of herrings in the spring. I remember when hauls 
 » were made in the Salt pond, not many years ago, in 
 which common hands engaged sometimes made one 
 hundred dollars each in a single night for their individ- 
 ual share, and the seine itself took one-half of all the 
 fish caught, and there were other parties engaged in 
 the hauling who took far more each than a mere hand 
 share. Then there was the smelt ware at the upper end 
 of the Salt pond below Wakefield. What quantities 
 of delicious smelts were formerly taken there, although 
 the yield is now light. As late as 1840, we used to get 
 these smelts fresh every morning, in their season, for 
 two shillings (33^ cents) a peck. Then the flounders, 
 and flatfish, and eels, and great snapping-turdes that 
 used to be so common in that beautiful lake ! ' ' Speak- 
 ing of snapping-turtles reminds me of William B. 
 Rotch, a son of Benjamin Rotch, formerly of New 
 Bedford, and later of Milford Haven, Wales, who was 
 knighted for introducing the whale fishery into Eng- 
 land, and myself going down one evening nearly 
 sixty years ago, to catch eels in the smelt xvare alluded 
 to, where I have caught scores of fine, fat yellow- 
 breasted eels of an evening, with a bob only^ instead 
 of a hook. On this evening, however, we fished with 
 hooks, and strange to say, although we had plenty of 
 bites, we caught not a single eel. The bite was al- 
 ways a nibble of the most gentle kind, and every time 
 I jerked, my hook brought up as if caught in an old log 
 or stump at the bottom of the xvare^ which caused me 
 
 C 350 ] . 
 
TWENTY -FOURTH BAKING 
 
 to slack the line, and when I pulled again, it always 
 came out of the water without difficulty, but with no 
 eel upon the hook. After wasting an hour's time in 
 this equivocal sport, I thought I would try an exper- 
 iment. So at the next nibble, instead of slacking up 
 when I felt the obstruction I pulled steadily on my line, 
 when lo, up came slowly a great snapping-turtle, who 
 spit out the hook the moment he touched the ground 
 and I had slacked the line, just as the turtles had 
 all done before whilst at the bottom of the smelt weir. 
 Having learned the trick, we soon caught half a score 
 or more of the turtles of some eight to ten pounds 
 weight each. Thomas B. Hazard, Jr., son of Nailer 
 Tom, was probably the greatest turtle catcher that was 
 ever known. He used to set great baited steel traps for 
 them, of his own making (he being a blacksmith), in 
 most of the ponds (under deep water) in South Kings- 
 town, and he also had a method of taking turtles with 
 strong hooks fastened on the ends of long poles, with 
 which he would feel for them at the bottom of ponds 
 at certain seasons of the year, when they lay imbed- 
 ded in the mud, and draw them out with his big hook. 
 He told me that he once caught eleven snapping-tur- 
 tles, none of your turtles, but regular turkles, in one of 
 the Hill country ponds, each and every one of which 
 weighed exactly eighty-two pounds, comprising, as 
 he surmised, one whole litter, the individuals of which 
 always, as he averred, keep exact pace with each other 
 as they grow, in weight. Idisremember the exact time 
 (it must have been when I was a very small boy) when 
 one morning black Pomp brought home to my grand- 
 father an immense snvippmg-turkie that he got in 
 C 351 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Indian Run pond, and cut its head off at the wood- 
 pile. Phillis, who made the best turklesoxi^ of anybody 
 in the world, had it boiling in the big pot all day, and 
 when evening came, the fire getting a little slack, she 
 sent Abe, that born son of Satan, out to the wood-pile, 
 in the dark, to bring in some chips. Soon such a hor- 
 rible yelling, screeching, and hullaballoo was raised by 
 Abe as nobody but that son of the Devil could accom- 
 plish, as he came limping into the kitchen with the 
 head of the snapping-^^^r^/<? fast to his big toe. Pomp 
 said it was no use trying to make the snapper's head 
 let go, for sn2i^^\\\^-turkles never do let go till it thun- 
 ders, and so he told Abe to go to bed and lie still till 
 the next thunder-storm. Phillis, however, after telling 
 Abe to stop his noise, and remarking that if there 
 was anything on airth she 'spised, it was Pomp, who 
 didn't know that a live wannut coal was just as good 
 to make a turkle let go as a thunder-clap, and suiting 
 her action to her words, she seized the big kitchen 
 tongs and took a red-hot coal from her kitchen fire and 
 held it right atop of the turkle' s head, when it let go 
 of Abe's toe as quick as you could say Jack Robin- 
 son ; but I should like to see the man or woman, black 
 or white, who ever got Abe out to the wood-pile again 
 after dark ! 
 
 Speaking about eels makes me think of my Uncle 
 Robert Hazard, and his cousin, George Hazard, going 
 eeling one moonlight night on the end of old Uncle 
 Thomas Robinson's wharf, on the Point in Newport. 
 Uncle Robert pulled up an eel , which , however, dropped 
 right off his hook into the water again. In his excite- 
 ment he fell off the wharf, and not being able to swim, 
 C 352 ] 
 
'*t. 
 
 TWENTY- FOURTH BAKING 
 
 he sunk several times, whilst every time he got his head 
 above water his cousin George, who thought Robert 
 had jumped in on purpose to catch the eel, would sing 
 out, ' ' Got him, Robert? Got him, Robert? Got him? ' ' 
 Fortunately old Tommy Goddard, who happened to 
 be passing the head of the wharf in his boat, com- 
 prehended the situation, and rescued Robert from his 
 threatened watery grave. My Uncle Robert held a 
 grudge against George after that for quite a time, be- 
 cause he did not try to help him out w^hen he fell oifthe 
 wharf. Awhile after this Uncle Robert and his cousins, 
 George Hazard and Tommy Robinson, were all three 
 sleeping in the same room at Uncle Thomas Robin- 
 son's, George and Tommy in one bed and Uncle Rob- 
 ert in another. Tommy Robinson had lately returned 
 from the wilderness country in Vermont, where he had 
 gone prospecting. He and my Uncle Robert afterwards 
 married sisters by the name of Fish and settled at Fer- 
 risburg in Addison county in that newly organized dis- 
 trict, where their descendants are numerous and highly 
 respectable. Speaking of Vermont makes me think of 
 a young man who once went to England as traveling 
 companion (after the usage of Friends) with a public ,,34^4^ ""ns. 
 Friend, perhaps Joseph Hoag, the Quaker Prophet, ^ /--^ 
 
 who foretold minutely, in 1803, all about the changes ' ' ' 
 that were to take place in the United States, including 
 the late Civil War, which prophecy I have had in my 
 possession for about forty years. No historian could 
 more correctly narrate to-day the leading points of the 
 great changes that have taken place in the country from 
 1 803 to the close of the Civil War than that old Quaker 
 preacher and prophet did before any of them occurred. 
 C 353 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 Well, what I was going to say is that while this young 
 man was dining at a friend's house in England, he 
 mentioned that in Vermont they had trees three hun- 
 dred feet high ! After dinner an English Friend sought 
 a private opportunity with the young man and cau- 
 tioned him against relating such an improbable story 
 as he had done about the trees of Vermont, as no solid 
 Friends in England would believe him, and he might 
 thus bring reproach upon the society. Some few years 
 after this it so chanced that the English Friend, who 
 had reproved the young Vermonter, chanced to visit 
 America on a religious visit, and coming to Vermont, 
 he dined at the house of the father of the young man. 
 After dinner he told his friend that he would be very 
 much pleased if he would now have one of those three 
 hundred feet trees he told of in England felled, so that 
 he might see it measured. The young man answered 
 that a hired man was then chopping in the woods, and 
 he would take him out where he was, and, if necessary, 
 get him to cut down a tall tree for his satisfaction. Just 
 as they got within speaking distance of the woodchop- 
 per, a tree fell, which the English Friend measured 
 with his own hands and found it to be three hundred 
 and ten feet as it lay. As I was just saying. Tommy 
 Robinson had lately returned from the Green Moun- 
 tains, in Vermont, where- he had seen more than one 
 bear. So in the night referred to, he dreamed he caught 
 a bear, and clinching both his hands into the long thick 
 hair of his bedfellow, he sung out, "A bear, a bear, 
 Robert." Robert took in the situation at once, and 
 remembering George's shabby treatment of him in 
 connection with the eel, he shouted back, "Kill him, 
 C 354 ] 
 
TWENTY- FOURTH BAKING 
 
 Tommy, kill him." Upon this, Tommy put the licks 
 into his cousin George right and left, who struck back 
 with equal good-will, and a desperate fisticuiF fight en- 
 sued, which continued until old Uncle Thomas Robin- 
 son, hearing the racket, entered the chamber and sepa- 
 rated the combatants, but not until both had given each 
 other bloody noses ! There, now ! I think all reasonable 
 readers will give me credit for having made good dis- 
 patch in this baking on the fish question, which I shall 
 doubtless be able to finish up in my next, and then go 
 straight ahead and tell how it happened that Phillis, 
 my grandfather's thrice renowned and incomparable 
 colored cook, came to be the cause of the French 
 Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie 
 Antoinette. 
 
 C 355 ] 
 
Tiuenty-jifth Baking 
 
 SAYS my brother Joe : "What myriads of oysters, 
 clams, and quahaugs, and acres of wild ducks, 
 widgeons, broadbills, dippers, teal, and summer ducks 
 there used to be in that beautiful lake (Salt pond) ! We 
 used to get those oysters, as good as any known, for 
 thirty-three cents a peck, and se\enteen cents a quart 
 gotten out of the shell. Trout were in all our streams, 
 from Crooked Brook in Point Judith (at its mouth, at 
 the cove) to Brown's Brook, Indian Run, Rocky Brook, 
 and Saucatucket river, and I have known one caught 
 at Pickerel Point," the junction of Saucatucket river 
 and Indian Run, ' ' that weighed four pounds and seven 
 ounces." That was a whopper for a brook-trout. 
 
 The biggest trout I ever caught was in the month 
 of March, many years ago, just after the old Peace 
 Dale mill-dam was carried away in a freshet. As I was 
 sauntering along the bank of the Saucatucket river, 
 some ten or fifteen rods below the dam, I saw a big 
 speckled trout sideof a rock, and I just thought I would 
 try the English method of catching trout w^here the 
 water is cold, by tickling ! So I just put my hand down 
 slily behind the tail of the fish, and making a sort of 
 half-moon or rather crescent with my fingers and palm, 
 I carried my hand beneath him and manipulated him 
 gently with the tips of my fingers. Whether it was the 
 warmth of my fingers, or what, I don't know, but the 
 trout did not move otherwise than to rise gradually to 
 the surface of the water, my hand following him all 
 the while, with the ends of my fingers occasionally 
 C 356 ] 
 
TWENTY- FIFTH BAKING 
 
 gently tickling him, until he got his back almost out 
 of water, when with a sudden jerk I landed him on 
 the bank. I took him home and found he just turned 
 the steelyards at three pounds and one-half. 
 
 To return to my brother's letter, he says: "Old 
 Mr. Kidder Randolph, Col.Totten, Chas. Grant Perry, 
 Doctor Dunn, all from Newport, and others, used to 
 know these streams well, and were sure to be there in 
 season. The last time I saw Col, Totten, he was an 
 old man and Major-General Totten. ^^ He almost wept 
 over his recollections of his trouting days about Peace 
 Dale. I remember he said that those waters produced 
 the finest trout he ever saw anywhere ' ' (To be sure ! 
 Let me say here in parenthesis, what else upon earth 
 could be expected of Narragansett waters), "adding 
 with a tremulous voice, 'I fear there is no hope for me 
 that I shall ever see those charming streams again.' 
 I met Col. Tarrant (an Englishman, who was a great 
 sportsman and used to be at Newport and in Narra- 
 gansett a great deal about 1825 to '35) here in Eng- 
 land (in London in 1868, 1 think). He remembered his 
 American life, much as Col. Totten did Narragansett, 
 and spoke of Newport, where he had been so much, 
 and of its comfortable boarding-houses, and its beau- 
 tiful surroundings, with much feeling. His wife was 
 with him at the time, both well advanced in years, but 
 in good health and active. Our blackberries, blueber- 
 ries, whortleberries, dangleberries, strawberries, cran- 
 berries, and fox grapes constituted our wild fruits, 
 chiefly with chestnuts, hickory nuts, a little back from 
 the shore." 
 
 I may here say that within sixty years, the hickory 
 
 C 357 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 (or walnut, as we call it) was a more common tree 
 around the immediate shores of the ocean and armlets 
 of the sea than any other tree. When I was a boy I 
 used to go nutting on Little Neck, in the upper part 
 of Point Judith, where just on the edge of the cove, 
 there was a large grove of wannut trees that bore very 
 well. Immediately on the western outline of this little 
 forest of walnuts stood the big rock, with a smaller one 
 at the foot of it that may now be seen, with which the 
 big one was crowned less than a century ago. A beau- 
 tiful little poem is yet in possession of members of the 
 Robinson family that was written by Amy Robinson, 
 daughter of Thomas Robinson, of Newport (who mar- 
 ried Robert Bowne, of New York), in commemoration 
 of this classic rock and of the vandalism of the young 
 men who in frolic rolled the lesser rock down from the 
 summit, and thus in the poetic w^ords of the fair writer, 
 "Robbed the hoary monarch of its crown." All along 
 Pettaquamscutt river and cove, from its head-waters 
 nearly to the sea, walnut trees, since my remembrance, 
 used to abound to a greater extent than any others, 
 especially on the western side of the river. And so on 
 most, if not all the points of land projecting into the 
 sea and on the shores of the islands in Narragansett 
 bay. These have now disappeared almost as generally 
 as the button woods, *^ and the old pasture fantastic- 
 limbed white oaks that used to be so common on the 
 sea-coast and lent such a weird charm to our landscapes . 
 Since my memory great fish-hawks used to make their 
 nests in the tops of these old white oaks. "Our black- 
 berries were ' ' (says Joe) ' ' and still are in some local- 
 ities unsurpassed, and I once found a wild strawberry 
 C 35S 2 
 
TWENTY -FIFTH BAKING 
 
 near Peace Dale, that was three-quarters of an inch in 
 diameter." Strange enough, speaking of that big straw- 
 berry brought into my head the dark day that occurred 
 exactly at the same time with an eclipse of the sun, a 
 remarkable coincidence, as old Ducky** Brown used 
 to say, somewhere, I think, about 1806-7. Ike and I 
 went strawberrying after dinner and had capital luck, 
 having got several quarts, when we were horrified by 
 the sun suddenly going out of sight and leaving us in 
 darkness before the middle of the afternoon. We hur- 
 ried home, and in passing the hen-house observed that 
 all the fowls had gone to roost. It scared me dreadfully 
 at first, and I felt just like praying, but just so soon 
 as the sun came out again, my pious fit went off and 
 I acted just like what the old nigger preacher said, 
 that ' ' his bredren were just like de hog eating acorns 
 under de oak tree and never looking up to see where 
 dey come from." The idea I want to impress my 
 readers with is better illustrated by old Jim Phillips, 
 who used to live in the old house that stood just back 
 of the sand-hills of the Narragansett Pier beach in 
 Little Neck, near the mouth of Narrow river. Old Jim 
 used to go fishing in a crazy, leaky boat, and one day 
 he got caught outside in a terrible squall, accompanied 
 with a sea that threatened every minute to swamp his 
 boat. So the old fellow began to pray: "Easy, Lord, 
 easy. Lord, poor old man and poor old boat ! ' ' Jim 
 kept repeating the words until his boat luckily fetched 
 into the mouth of the river and grounded in compar- 
 atively smooth water, when he jumped ashore, shout- 
 ing, "Now blow. Devil, blow, Devil, stout old man 
 and stout old boat." Jim Phillips*^ was a lucky man. 
 
 C SB9 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 The night before the great September gale of 1815, 
 Jim pilfered from Hazard Knowles — who then owned 
 and lived on the Little Neck farm — a big, scraggy 
 buttonwood limb, which he threw down by his door. 
 The next day, almost at the commencement of the 
 gale, an immense sea, or tidal wave^ came rolling in 
 before the cyclone, way over the highest tops of the 
 sand-hills, more than twenty feet high, which swept 
 the house clean before it and drowned all in it, except 
 one colored woman by the name of Weeden (who hap- 
 pened to get on the roof Math a child under each arm, 
 which she was successively obliged to drop) and old 
 Jim Phillips, who managed to get on the stolen but- 
 tonwood limb, and was landed in safety more than a 
 mile up the river near by where Mrs. Weeden came 
 to land. To return, says Joe: "The high blackberries 
 were very large and fine, and I never heard of their 
 failing until within the last twenty years. Blackberries 
 are now worth about ten cents a quart in Narragan- 
 sett. The old price was two cents and huckleberries 
 three cents. I remember when, in 1822, Thomas and 
 John Williams made several hogsheads of blackberry 
 wine for sale, by way of experiment. They got all 
 the blackberries they wanted brought to their door 
 for one cent a quart." Let me here remark that this 
 was before the cussed manufactories were built that 
 enable people to get a living without being obliged to 
 tear their clothes and scratch their legs, hands, and 
 arms picking blackberries at ten quarts for a dime. 
 
 I think now I have about got through with the fish 
 of Narragansett, unless it be to say that there are some 
 sheepshead along the Point Judith and Boston Neck 
 I S60 2 
 
TWENTY- FIFTH BAKING 
 
 roads, which some think a superior fish to the tautog. 
 Boston folks don't know how to cook a tautog, which to 
 be first-rate should be nailed to a red-oak jonny-cake 
 board, and baked a la Phillis before a hardwood fire. 
 The sheepshead seem to be a very domestic fish, and 
 to live in pairs. Old Benny Nichols, ^^ who lived in the 
 old Robert Knowles house, a little east of Peace Dale, 
 used to go down every year to a certain hole in a rock 
 at Boston Neck and catch a pair of sheepshead. I never 
 knew him to catch more than two, nor did he ever 
 catch less. Just two and nothing more. So now good- 
 bye to the Narragansett fish! except just to remark on 
 taking leave that monstrous big bull-frogs abound all 
 over Narragansett and peeping frogs without number, 
 although some say there are no such things as peeping 
 frogs, it being the little speckled turtles that make the 
 weird and pleasing music that is generally attributed to 
 frogs. Speaking of bull-frogs makes me think of what 
 (by tradition) occurred in Windham, Conn., many 
 years ago, when that poor, bigoted colony was wholly 
 under priest and blue-law rule. Col. Dyre of that town 
 was a great Indian fighter, and one night his men were 
 all called together by blowing of horns, beating of 
 drums, and special messengers. A terrible Indian war- 
 whoop and cry came from the depths of the forest, 
 which filled every heart in the settlement, of all ages 
 and sexes, with dismay, not even excepting the bravest 
 of the brave among the men. The name of the com- 
 mander was pronounced in so loud and thrilling a tone 
 that there could be no doubt of his being singled out 
 as the chiefest object of the dreaded Injuns' vengeance. 
 In fact, there was hardly any other distinguishable 
 C 361 J 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 words heard, except "Colonel Dyre! Colonel Dyre! 
 Colonel Dyre!" from the beginning to the end of 
 the war-cry. The colonel was a brave soldier, and he 
 resolved to lead his men at once against the enemy. 
 They moved with great caution, and guided by the 
 terrible cry they soon came upon the enemy encamped 
 in a small pond in the wilderness in the shape of some 
 hundred or more bull-frogs, who were rejoicing at hav- 
 ing found a good supply of water in a severe drought 
 that had dried up every other stream and pond in Wind- 
 ham. The men of Windham, itwas said, ever after this 
 had a special antipathy to bull-frogs, and made a point 
 of conscience and honor to destroy every one they could 
 find trespassing on their domain. 
 
 I presume every Rhode Islander who loves jonny- 
 cake properly made a la Phillis, out of white Rhode 
 Island corn meal slowly and finely ground by Rhode 
 Island granite mill-stones, and baked on a red-oak 
 board before a hardwood fire, must be heartily glad 
 that Shepherd Tom is now just about to commence 
 to tell how it happened that Phillis, his grandfather's 
 never-to-be-forgotten unparalleled colored cook, came 
 to be the remote cause of the French Rev^olution, and 
 the death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. Before 
 the main facts of that remarkable historical phenome- 
 nal incident are narrated, it is necessary for me to say 
 that among all the culinary accomplishments possessed 
 by Phillis, my grandfather's most wonderful of the 
 wonderful colored cooks of Old Narragansett, there 
 was not one that would compare with her god or god- 
 dess-like skill in making coffee. Phillis used to say there 
 was nothing in this whole airth that she 'spised more 
 
 1 362 ] 
 
TWENTY- FIFTH BAKING 
 
 than she did a man that did not like good coffee, unless 
 it be 2i feller who could n't tell the difference between 
 her coffee and such stuff as was made by them mon- 
 key cooks that belonged to Old Chambo, Go to Grass, 
 Admirable Stang, Markis Fayette, and them early 
 Parley voos, that came to Newport and Narragansett 
 to fight the Britishers, just 'cos Mari-Tonet couldn't 
 get — but I am anticipating and must stop just here 
 and proceed with my preface. Phillis said she never 
 knowed one of them fellows that couldn't tell the dif- 
 ference between her coffee and bad coffee that was fit 
 for anything else, as Will Shakespeare, who used to 
 keep " Will's Coffee House" at New Lonnon, used 
 to say, but "treason, stratajim, and spile." I think, 
 however, that had Phillis lived until now, she would 
 have felt equal contempt for the housekeepers of this 
 day, who, to save a little trouble, buy their coffee ready 
 burnt at the grocery shops. For the ' ' gret-room ' ' folks 
 Phillis always made my grandfather get the best Old 
 Mocha coffee. In fact, he always had a store on hand, 
 twenty years or more old, which, she said, she could 
 not be cheated in, " 'cos Mocha coffee allers had gravel- 
 stones in it, 'cos the half-nigger Arrabs, who lived 
 there, didn't know northin', and spread their coffee on 
 the ground to dry. ' ' When Phillis set out to make her 
 best coffee for breakfast, she used to wait till all the 
 ''''gret-room'''' folks were up, washed and dressed, and 
 ready to sit down to the table. She then put her coffee 
 into her long-handled iron pan, and held it over the 
 fire, herself stirring it all the time with a sweet-scented 
 white wannut stick that she called her coffee stirrer. It 
 was very seldom that Phillis allowed any of her coffee 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 to get burned, but if a grain did chance to, she always 
 picked it out and threw it into the fire ; for Phillis used 
 to say that if there was anything on airth she 'spised, 
 it was bitter, burned coffee, which was not "fit for 
 white folks, niggers, nor injuns." The very minute 
 the coffee was done parching, Phillis put it in the cof- 
 fee-mill and made Abe grind it as quick as he could, 
 for she said the very best part of the coffee began to 
 mount up toward heaven (from whence she said the 
 gods brought it to Narragansett) the moment it was 
 parched enough, and continued to do so through all its 
 stages of preparation until it was drank. Whilst Abe 
 was turning the coffee-mill, Phillis always sent Mar- 
 garet to the '"'' gret-room'''' to tell the folks to set down 
 to the table, whilst my grandmother put the sugar 
 and cream into the coffee-cups, which were always 
 full twice the size of tea-cups, so as to keep the coffee 
 hot. In fact, my grandfather's coffee-cups were more 
 than four times as big as the old-fashioned Narra- 
 gansett tea-cups which, when tea was first brought 
 from China and held to be a very great and expen- 
 sive luxury, were not much bigger than the half of a 
 bantam pullet's egg-shell. I remember hearing Molly 
 Hazard (daughter of Sylvester Robinson, who Hved in 
 the gambrel-roofed house that is now incorporated in- 
 tact into the Governor Spxague Folly, near the Pier in 
 Point Judith) say that on occasion of Judge Light- 
 foot, a very absent-minded and scrupulously polite old 
 gentleman, of Newport, taking tea one afternoon at 
 her father's, she and several other young ladies who 
 chanced to be present at the time, thought they would 
 have a little fun with the old Judge. So when they sat 
 
 C 364 ] 
 
TWENTY- FIFTH BAKING 
 
 down to tea, they got the sociable old man in excel- 
 lent spirits and talking freely, Avhile Molly plied him 
 with renewed cups of tea. Three cups then was the 
 major quantity sanctioned by the rules of good soci- 
 ety. When Judge Lightfoot had accomplished that 
 number, he put his teaspoon across the top of his cup, 
 to indicate, as was the custom, that he had taken the 
 prescribed quantity. By this time the polite old ' ' ladies' 
 man ' ' had got in so voluble a mood that he forgot him- 
 self, and on his fair hostess pressing him to allow her 
 to refill his cup, he bowed and saying "anything to 
 please the ladies," passed it up to be filled again. This 
 was repeated again and again with the same accom- 
 panying words, until the Judge's cup had been re- 
 plenished twenty -seven times, and the hot water had 
 given out. 
 
 My grandfather had an old yellow-skinned bug- 
 horned coAv that Philiis made him keep until she died 
 a natural death, in the twenty-fourth year of her age, 
 because, as Philiis averred, her milk gave richer and 
 sweeter cream for coffee than any cow on the farm. 
 Just as soon as Abe had ground the last grain of cof- 
 fee, Philiis always put it in her coffee-pot and set it 
 over the fire for a prescribed time known best to her- 
 self, and settled it with an egg-shell. Margaret then 
 took it immediately in to the breakfast table to be drank 
 without delay, the whole house, besides a considerable 
 portion of out-doors, being so thoroughly impregnated 
 with the delightful aroma of the precious decoction 
 that all the horses, catde, pigs, sheep, and poultry on 
 the farm used to draw near from all the quarters to 
 snuff the delightful perfume, and even whole flocks of 
 [ 365 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 passing birds have been known to light upon the chim- 
 ney and roof of the house before breakfast was over. 
 Whilst I abominate with all my heart, body, mind, 
 and soul such coffee (so called) as is furnished at the 
 restaurants and most of the hotels of the day (includ- 
 ing first-class), to say nothing of the tens of thousands 
 of private families, in which it is so fearfully dese- 
 crated, I do say that I have never, since my sixteenth 
 year, at which age I was first allowed by my thought- 
 ful parents to drink either coffee or tea, taken a break- 
 fast without coffee. It is true that for more than thirty 
 years I was unable to drink coffee, but then, during 
 the whole of that period, let me have what else I might 
 beside, I never knew what it was to take a morning 
 meal deserving the name of breakfast. And now, in 
 my eighty-fourth year, I do faithfully say that I would 
 rather have a good cup of coffee for breakfast, accom- 
 panied with nothing else but a good jonny-cake made 
 a la Phillis of Rhode Island white corn meal, finely 
 and slowly ground with Sherman & Town's (in North 
 Kingstown) granite mill-stones, with some sweet but- 
 ter that has never been within speaking distance of 
 hell-compounded oleomargarine, than to have every- 
 thing else on earth beside, minus good coffee. I may 
 say further that in my experiences, I have ever found 
 that those people who have a fine taste in coffee, have 
 a cultivated taste in everything else, including not only 
 articles of food and drink, but all the works of nature 
 and art, of whatever degree and kind, including sculp- 
 ture and painting, poesy and love-making. I may just 
 say before going farther into the main subject of this 
 "baking," that one of the best cups of coffee I ever 
 
 i 366 :] 
 
TWENTY- FIFTH BAKING 
 
 drank was on an occasion when I happened to stay all 
 night at the house of Sammy Holden, a plain, unpre- 
 tending old farmer, who lived in the northern part 
 of Narragansett, and was by many regarded as one of 
 the oddest and most outlandish men in Rhode Island. 
 When I drank my coffee that morning at his house, 
 I made up my mind that Sammy Holden was not 
 properly appreciated by his neighbors, and so I insti- 
 tuted an investigation of his manner of life and its sur- 
 roundings. His farm, I found, consisted of about sev- 
 enty-five acres of rather indifferent or poor natural soil, 
 but which he had in some way made much more pro- 
 ductive than most of his neighbors. His family con- 
 sisted, besides himself, of a neat, tidy looking wife, a 
 grown-up daughter, and two plain but manly looking 
 sons. His house was of one story only, but pretty roomy, 
 and was kept in prime order, both within and without, 
 as was everything on his farm. The house was situated 
 on a beautiful gently ascending slope, and protected on 
 the north and west by a wood-lot containing about one- 
 third of his farm, say twenty-five acres. His barn, corn- 
 crib, sheep-shed, poultry house, granary, work-shop, 
 wood-shed, and some other small buildings were so 
 arranged that with the dwelling-house they inclosed a 
 contiguous oblong hollow square (the house fronting 
 south on the south side of the square) of some eighty 
 by sixty feet in dimensions that seemed almost imper- 
 vious to any winds. There was a copious, ever-living 
 spring of the purest water in Holden 's wood-lot, suffi- 
 ciently elevated to allow his bringing the water under 
 ground in wooden pipes to his house and barn, from 
 whence it was distributed in other direcdons, so that 
 
 C 367 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 there was no occasion of seeking for water elsewhere, 
 either for the use of his family or farming stock. Nor 
 in severe winter was it necessary for any one of his 
 household to expose themselves to the inclemency of 
 the weather, everything necessary for their comfort as 
 well as that of his farm stock being comprised within 
 the buildings and cellars opening on the quadrangular 
 space before described, on one side of which was a cov- 
 ered way leading to the wood-house, crib, and barn, 
 which last-named building was capacious enough to 
 contain all the hay and other fodder raised on the farm. 
 The whole of the comfortable buildings I have de- 
 scribed, I learned had not cost the odd old man to ex- 
 ceed six hundred dollars, excluding the timber, boards, 
 and shingles procured from his own woods, and the 
 labor of himself and sons thereon. Mr. Holden's farm- 
 ing stock consisted of four cows, a pair of oxen, one 
 good, gentle mare from which he occasionally reared 
 a colt, four or five young cattle with which to replenish 
 the neat stock as the older ones were from time to time 
 sold off; a breeding sow and pigs, some twenty-five ewe 
 sheep, and a sufficient number of geese, turkeys, ducks, 
 and farm fowls to supply the family bounteously with 
 poultry and eggs and leave quite a surplus to send to 
 Newport markets. He also fatted every fall some five 
 or six pigs, about half of which were consumed in his 
 own family and the balance sold. One of the peculiari- 
 ties that caused Holden to be considered odd was that 
 he always permitted his hogs to run at large, for the 
 reason as he said that the flesh of swine treated in that 
 way was perfectly free from the elements that impart 
 scrofula to the human system , in which opinion I agree 
 [ 368 ] 
 
TWENTY -FIFTH BAKING 
 
 with the old man. Mr. Holden sold but little of his wool 
 in a raw state, his wufe and daughter spinning a good 
 portion of it into linsey-woolsey, sheep's gray cloth, for 
 men's wear, blankets, flannels, and knit stockings, for 
 the surplus of which, after supplying the family wants, 
 a market was found in the neighborhood or in New- 
 port. When Mr. Holden and his sons cut and laid in 
 their winter's firewood, they saved all the timber and 
 good sticks suitable to make rails, yokes, ox -bows, fork 
 stails, etc., which they worked on and finished mostly 
 in the winter in a shop well supplied with the neces- 
 sary tools, to which was also attached a little smithy, 
 he and his boys doing their horse-shoeing and repair- 
 ing of farming tools themselves. 
 
 I found another reason why Mr. Holden was con- 
 sidered odd was because when he or his boys went 
 fishing or elsewhere about the country, it was their 
 habit to put a box into the horse-cart in which they 
 rode, and as often as they saw an old bone, leather 
 shoe, or woolen rag in the road or on the sea-shore, one 
 of them would get out of the cart and throw it into the 
 box. In the winter time these bones were pounded up 
 and together with the woolen rags, old shoes, etc. , were 
 composted with muck and barn manure and put on 
 the corn-field, which, as the old man and boys said, 
 caused a great increase of the crop of corn, besides 
 affording a needed fertilizer for the soil, the good ef- 
 fects of which were observable for years. Every fall 
 and spring Mr. Holden and one of his boys were ac- 
 customed to go to Newport, taking with them what 
 things they had made in their work-shop in the win- 
 ter, and the cloth, flannel, stockings, etc., that the wife 
 C S69 3 
 
4 
 THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 and daughter had manufactured out of the wool and 
 flax raised on the farm not needed for family use. 
 These things they found no difficulty in selling at 
 fair prices or exchanging for necessary supplies; for 
 everybody in Newport knew that whatever came from 
 "Holden, the Odd" was of the best quality. Among 
 the supplies procured in the fall was always quite a 
 number of interesting and instructive books to be read 
 aloud by one of the family during the long winter even- 
 ings. Another reason why Holden was held to be odd 
 was that when any of his poor neighbors, through sick- 
 ness, accident, or inefficiency, got behind in their farm 
 work, he and his boys, who were ahAays fully up to 
 their farm work and never hurried, used to go with- 
 out saying nary a word, and hoe out their unlucky 
 neighbor's corn, potatoes, or what not, that they saw 
 suffering, or mayhap mow and put up his hay or oats. 
 Or if it were in the winter season, they would see that 
 the poor neighbor's farming stock was well cared for. 
 Nor was the old man or his sons ever known to speak 
 a word concerning such free offerings outside their own 
 family, which to most of the neighbors seemed very 
 odd indeed. Upon the whole, after finding out what I 
 could of old Holden and family, I made up my mind 
 that the more such odd men as he there were in the 
 world, the better it would he for all mankind, and the 
 brute creation to boot ; for whilst the last would always 
 be sure of kind and gentle treatment, were all the people 
 on earth like the Holdens, they would be ten times 
 more comfortable than millions are now; whilst all 
 the money now spent for jails, penitentiaries, criminal 
 courts, churches, and gallows might be saved. 
 
 C 370 ] 
 
TWENTY. FIFTH BAKING 
 
 Now that I have got the preface to my narrative 
 about how Phillis, my grandfather's stupendously 
 wonderful colored cook, came to be the remote cause of 
 the French Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI 
 and Marie Antoinette, I mean after my return from 
 Narragansett, where I expect to go to-morrow, to re- 
 commence my narrative of those astonishing events 
 in another baking of the jonny-cake, and perhaps get 
 through in one paper with telling all about how it came 
 to pass. 
 
 C 371 1 
 
Twenty-sixth Baking 
 
 I HAVE just returned from Narragansett, where I 
 think I intimated in my last baking I was about 
 to go, before finishing up these highly interesting and 
 instructive reminiscences of the "olden jonny-cake 
 times," by a recital of the way in which Phillis, my 
 grandfather's world-renowned colored cook, came to 
 be, as before hinted, the "remote cause of the French 
 Revolution, and the death of Louis XVI and Marie 
 Antoinette," which I intend to do in this baking, and 
 have done with it — come what will ! But before pro- 
 ceeding, I will just say that the month of October, as 
 a general rule (as everybody worth knowing knows), 
 is just the divinest month in the whole twelve months 
 of the year in Rhode Island, and more especially in 
 the southern coast of its vast domain, which was for- 
 merly known as Atlantis, the delightful summer resort 
 of the gods and goddesses of antiquity. Well, it so hap- 
 pened that early in the afternoon of the most exqui- 
 site day in that exquisite month. Anno Domini 1880, 
 I found myself seated on what is known as the Flat 
 Rock, situated about a mile south of the old (or north) 
 Pier on my brother Joe's farm (called Sea Side), con- 
 gratulating myself upon having done in my last bak- 
 ing, once for all, with the fish of Narragansett, and en- 
 joying to the full the magnificent never-tiring beauties 
 of the ocean and the adjacent unequaled scenery, in 
 front of where I reclined. Scattered hither and thither 
 all over the broad surface of the amphitheatrical-shaped 
 rock that slopes gently to the rolling billows that have 
 C 372 ] 
 
TWENTY -SIXTH BAKING 
 
 ever murmured or roared around its base for countless 
 eternities, were groups of summer visitors of all ages, 
 sizes, and of both sexes, whilst on a projecting point 
 of the rock stood an old fisherman trolling for striped 
 bass. As I sat admiring the dexterity with which he 
 hooked and brought by degrees a fifty pounder to the 
 edge of the rock and there kept the big fish in play until, 
 taking advantage of an extra huge swelling breaker, 
 the experienced old man landed his prey high on the 
 rock, I naturally thought to myself and wondered 
 whether or no the gods in past times, when they spent 
 their summers in Atlantis, ever indulged in the grand 
 sport of trolling for striped bass. Scarcely had my 
 thoughts indulged in the surmise, ere I felt a gentle 
 benumbing influence stealing over my senses akin to 
 sleep, but yet it could not have been an ordinary slum- 
 ber, for my natural senses seemed to be wonderfully 
 quickened and clothed with powers far exceeding those 
 I possessed in my waking moments. Casting my eyes 
 southerly, I observed a gigantic figure standing on 
 Indian Rock, which, by a sort of semi-divine affla- 
 tus, I knew on sight to be no other than Neptune, the 
 god of the sea and horses. Securing firm foothold near 
 the seaward edge of the rock with his trident, Neptune 
 successively harpooned more than one five-hundred 
 pound porpoise as they came rearing and plunging 
 along on the gallop like so many sea-horses, and with 
 his strong arms tossed them one after another clean 
 across Pint Judy, a distance of more than two miles, 
 into the Salt pond, into which they fell with a splash 
 that would upset a dozen canoes and a catouse loud 
 enough to be heard way up to Grinnage. What I then 
 t SIS ^ 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 and there saw enables me to correct a mistake in 
 mythological history which records that the reason 
 why Neptune was called ' ' god of the sea and horses ' ' 
 grew out of the indisputable fact that he once struck 
 the ground somewhere in ancient Attica, in Greece, 
 and out jumped a full-fledged horse which, transported 
 to Hispania (now Spain), became the sire of a race of 
 pacing horses unequaled in speed and easy gait by any 
 horses in the world. That such a race of horses did 
 exist is true ; but their reputed origin is all a myth. My 
 maternal grandfather. Governor William Robinson, 
 perceiving that the race of Narragansett pacers had 
 much deteriorated since the gods, who first brought 
 them from Hispania, had been forced to abandon Atlan- 
 tis, owing to the invasion of the Connecticut blue-law 
 Presbyterians on one side, and the Quakers and witch- 
 hanging Puritans of Massachusetts on two of the re- 
 maining sides of Rhode Island, made a new importa- 
 tion from Andalusia, in Spain, of the precious animals, 
 the progeny of which finally became extinct in Nar- 
 ragansett, for the reason that the rich Virginian and 
 West Indian planters, who used to attend with their 
 fast horses the annual races in Narragansett, succeeded 
 in buying up and taking away every mare of the breed . 
 Experience, however, has proved that such was the 
 delicate formation and texture both in body and spirit of 
 this wonderful race of Narragansett pacers, that they 
 could not prosper anywhere in America outside of the 
 Narragansett country, the Ancient Adantis, where the 
 balmy Gulf Stream breezes ever blow and impart to 
 the ambrosia and other cereals and vegetable produc- 
 tions, a fineness of texture and flavor nowhere else to be 
 
 c 374 ;] 
 
TWENTY-SIXTH BAKING 
 
 found on this terraqueous globe. Thus, owing to a con- 
 glomeration and confusion of ideas, such as attaches 
 moreor less to the writers of all history, whether sacred, 
 mythical, or profane, Neptune became dubbed as ' ' god 
 of the sea and horses" because of the Attic myth of 
 his causing a horse to arise from the earth by striking 
 it with a trident (which was not his element at all, by 
 the by), when the truth is Neptune derived the appel- 
 lation from the fact that he was addicted on occasion 
 of his spending his summers on the rocky shores of 
 Atlantis to striking his trident, not upon the ground, 
 but upon thesea, and raising therefrom huge porpoises, 
 or sea-horses^ and tossing them in sport a mile high 
 above the earth, and two miles away into the Salt pond. 
 Neptune's appropriate title should undoubtedly be the 
 God of the Sea and Sea-Horses, viz. : porpoises. 
 
 And now I saw approaching from landward the 
 most splendid human form that I ever laid eyes on, 
 a long curly auburn haired, beardless youth, faultless 
 in form and feature, and graceful beyond compare in 
 person, attitude, and motion. He wore a laurel crown 
 and shining garments, and held in his right hand a bow 
 and arrows, with a shield and harp in his left, and a 
 coiled fishing-line thrown over his shoulders. As he 
 approached, he laid the shield and harp on the rock, 
 from whence instantly issued the divinest music. I 
 knew him at once to be no other than Apollo, the glo- 
 rious god of Rhetoric, Music, and Poetry. He was at- 
 tended by nine beautiful celestial females, each hold- 
 ing in her hand an instrument of music, such as the 
 harp, the cithera, the psaltery, the pipe, and the cym- 
 bal. They all seated themselves gracefully on the rock, 
 I 375 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 and commenced playing on the instruments, accom- 
 panying the performance \\ith voices so sweet that 
 in the tout ensemble the fishes of the sea drew near in 
 great numbers, and leaped in ecstasy from their briny 
 element. These attendants on Apollo I knew at once to 
 be the nine Muses, the patrons of the sciences, music, 
 and poetry, and presiders over the feasts and solemni- 
 ties of the gods. Taking his stand on the rock near to 
 the sea, Apollo laid his bow and arrows down some ten 
 or twelve feet behind him, and then placing his coiled 
 line carefully on the rock beside him, he disengaged the 
 golden sinker and hook, and swinging the line artis- 
 tically several times round and round, sent it on its 
 course, whizzing like a sky-rocket, full five miles to sea. 
 Twice the god thus threw and trolled in his line with- 
 out a bite, but on the third trial, a huge, tAvo-hundred 
 pounder struck the bait and was hooked. Talk about 
 your miserable modern ways of reeling in a twenty- 
 pound bass by machinery, to save labor indeed ! Such 
 sportsmen should have seen the fisher-god bring that 
 two-hundred pounder home hand-over-hand, with his 
 sturdy arms alone, and land him safely on the rock 
 beside him, and then hide their heads in shame. With 
 all Apollo's skill, dexterity, and strength, it was a work 
 of time. Having plenty of sea-room, the prince of fish 
 would make a semi-circle gyration of several miles, 
 with one end of the arc at Beaver Tail and the other 
 near Pint Judy Pint, cutting the water of the ocean in 
 twain with the sizzling line, like a two-edged sword, 
 as it passed to and fro. But all this time the distance 
 between the god and his prey was slowly growing less 
 and less, and after half an hour's playing, the mon- 
 I 316 ■] 
 
TWENTY-SIXTH BAKING 
 
 strous bass was dextrously landed on the top of a big 
 incoming wave, safely high and dry on the rock. Al- 
 though the delightful vision lasted but just fifty-nine 
 minutes by my watch, the space of forty Journals, each 
 with a supplement, would not suffice to tell of the glo- 
 rious things I next saw, beginning with a regatta, in 
 which the goddess Aurora led the van, coming from 
 the east in her chariot of gold, drawn by white horses, 
 so fleet of foot that they dallied not long enough in their 
 course to make the slightest impress on the surface of 
 the waters they spurned, her charioteer Phoebus bend- 
 ing forward at an angle of forty-five degrees, so as to 
 maintain his position, directly under the accompany- 
 ing bright morning star, with the twelve morning hours 
 in beautiful female costume, gracefully marching in 
 quick succession by her side, followed by all the celes- 
 tial and terrestrial gods and goddesses and their nu- 
 merous retinues, together with the gods of the woods 
 and the sea, not even excluding the infernal gods, led 
 on by Pluto (who, however, I observed, were, for some 
 cause, required by Jupiter to keep within the bound- 
 aries of Massachusetts, in Buzzard's Bay), the pro- 
 cession continuing until, far as the eye could reach on 
 every side, the gently rippling ocean was covered with 
 thousands of yachts, galleys, and other marine con- 
 veyances, in comparison with the meanest of which, 
 Cleopatra's barge would look like a mud scow, and so 
 on to a magnificent tournament, presided over by the 
 god Mars, that came oiF on the Narragansett beach, 
 north of the Pier, to a closing reception given by the 
 goddess Venus, who presented her cards with her 
 own hands, from her ivory chariot, drawn by swans 
 
 C 377 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 and doves, as she made her circuit attended by two 
 cupids, three graces, and her train-bearer, Adonis, all 
 Pint Judy being in those halcyon days, one immense 
 variegated parterre and flower garden, park and plea- 
 sure ground, full of beautiful bowers, labyrinthine 
 walks, broad avenues, tall, spreading trees loaded with 
 the most fragrant and beautiful flowers and fruits, 
 amidst which millions of fairies, singing birds, and 
 angels were ever warbling forth notes so varied and 
 divine that any prima donna now on earth, could she 
 once catch the echo of such music, would go hang 
 herself out of envy, spite, and despair. 
 
 And so all closed, with a mock battle between Jupi- 
 ter on one side and Neptune and iEolus on the other, 
 Jupiter flashing forth in quick succession his lightning- 
 driven thunderbolts from his throne on a great black 
 cloud overhanging the sea, just opposite where the 
 South Pier now stands. Whilst Neptune and iEolus 
 brought their united forces to bear on the wind and 
 waves, until the sea was at times forced back ten and 
 a half miles from the shore, leaving hundreds of whales, 
 porpoises, and other monsters and fishes of the deep 
 floundering amidst the sands and rocks that lay at the 
 bottom; and then again forcing, through their united 
 power, the waters skyward in one Alpine wave that 
 roared the heaven-reverberating thunder of the father 
 of the gods into silence, overleaped his cloud-encircled 
 throne, dismantled and swept from their hoary battle- 
 ments every gun of his red artillery, quenched his light- 
 ning with the foaming deep, and hurled old Jupe him- 
 self floundering from his thunder-cloud until hefotched 
 up on top of one of Jimmy Robinson's sand-hills north 
 C 378 ] 
 
TWENTY. SIXTH BAKING 
 
 of the Pier, where he lay sprawling like a big ten- 
 year-old bull-frog, until old drunken Jim Phillips hap- 
 pened to come staggering along that way and sot him 
 on his pins agin, whereupon the gods and goddesses 
 in Pint Judy, together with the thousands upon thou- 
 sands of the lesser deities and retainers, sot up such a 
 shout of laughter that I awoke with a start from my 
 reverie, and vowed that, come what would and happen 
 what might, then and there, I would go straight ahead 
 in a down-grade train in spite of all the heathen gods 
 and goddesses in heaven, earth, and hell, and without 
 turning to the right or to the left, tell the Journal how 
 it came to pass that Phillis, my grandfather's never- 
 to-be-forgotten heaven-inspired colored cook, came to 
 be the "remote cause of the French Revolution, and 
 the death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette." 
 
 So, to be brief, it was after this wise: premising that 
 the facts were related to me in confidence, when but 
 a small boy just out of petticoats, by my grandfather's 
 old colored man-of-all-work, Mose, who, as I have be- 
 fore said, was a personage of such singular veracity, 
 that I have not a doubt in my mind, but what his 
 story is as much to be relied upon in point of facts, 
 taken literally, as that written by his great prototype 
 in the book of Genesis. So here goes : "Once upon a 
 time," so said Mose, as he sat in the kitchen corner 
 one cold evening in January, toasting his feet before 
 Aunty Phillis' big blazing fire: "Once upon a time, 
 the Dolphin of France and the Prince of Whales of 
 Hingland both fell desprit in love with ''Ria Tonet^ the 
 bootiful darter of old Jule Csesar, King of Rome. 'Ria 
 was en'y jest the bootifulest gal in the whole world out- 
 
 C 379 J 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 side of 'Gansett, and one Sunday night, when the Dol- 
 phin and Whales were both settin' up with '7??a, the 
 Dolphin down on his knees and swore by Saint Peter ^ 
 Saint Paul ^ and Saijit Dennis^ that if 'i??a wouldn't 
 promise to marry him, he would blow his brains out 
 that very blessed night! En'y jest arter the Dolphin 
 swore this, down went TF hales on his marrow-bones 
 afore 'Ria, and swore by St. George and the Lion and 
 the Unicom^ that if she would n't 'sent to stand up in 
 Quaker meetin' with him, he would go straight out 
 of the kitchen door and drown hisself in her Daddy's 
 well ! What todo, poor ''Ria did n't know ! But jist then 
 she thought of somethin'! ''Ria was mighty fond of 
 parfooms, so she told Whales and Dolphin that which 
 ere one of um brought her the nicest smelling par- 
 foom the next Christmas night, should have her ! So 
 airly nex' morning Whales and Dolphin both started 
 afore sunrise for hum. Whales lived in Lunnon and 
 Dolphin in Paris. When Whales got hum and told his 
 dad M^hat 'i?z«, old Jule's bootiful darter, had prom- 
 ised, he gave his son two thousand dollars and told 
 him to go straight to the King of Parsia and tell him 
 that he wanted him to get a big vial chuck full of the 
 sweetest smelling Hotto that could be 'stilled out of 
 roses and never mind the cost if it was as much as 
 a t'ousand dollars. So Whales took his two t'ousand 
 dollars in his saddle-bags and started off a-horseback 
 to get the parfoom for ''Ria. Whales had just got to Par- 
 sia and made a bargain with the King to have a big 
 vial of parfoom made out of the inside leaves of the 
 Hotto rose, they being the best smelling of any of the 
 rose leaves by a gret sight, when along cum the Dol- 
 C 380 n 
 
TWENTY -SIXTH BAKING 
 
 phin riding on his mule. The Dolphin told the King 
 of Parsia how his dad, the King of France, had sent 
 him a bag holding two t'ousand francs to pay him for 
 a vial of the sweetest smelling Hotto that could be got 
 in all Parsia. So soon as the King of Parsia found out 
 that two t'ousand francs were n't half so much money 
 as the t'ousand dollars was that Whales had paid him 
 for his vial of Hotto, then he told his women folks to 
 'still the Dolphin'' s Hotto out of the outside leaves. The 
 Dolphin did n't find out how he had been cheated till 
 all the roses in Parsia had died for that year, and so 
 fV hales told the Dolphin he guessed he need n't go to 
 see ''Ria no more, for the Hotto he had made was from 
 the rose leaves that growed right round the heart of 
 the Hotto rose that were a t'ousand times sweeter as 
 them that grow'd on the outside. When the Dolphin 
 found out how badly he was 'posed on, he was just 
 the maddest and miserablest critter you ever seed, and 
 'clared out and out, that he would never go back to 
 see ''Ria agin, nor hum nuther, but would go to Injy 
 and get passage in a ship for 'Meriky, and turn into 
 a wild Injun. So poor Dolphin got his mule saddled 
 and bid the King of Parsia good-bye, and started off, 
 and after two months' riding got to Bombay, where old 
 Nick Brown'' s{oi Providence) East Indy ship, named 
 the ' Mount Hope,' was just about stardng for Rhode 
 Island, aboard which the Dolphin and his mule got a 
 passage to 'Meriky, in 'GansettBay." Mose said that 
 he was just cutting his night's wood one mornin' on 
 a chilly afternoon in October, when he saw the for- 
 lornest looking critter comin' down the lane on a mule 
 that he ever sot eyes on. When he got to the wood- 
 I 381 3 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 pile, Mose said he axed him if the 'Gansett Injuns 
 lived about them parts. Mose told him that there was 
 plenty of niggars lived in them parts, but that the 
 'Gansett Injuns lived way down in Charlestown, ten 
 miles furder on the road. Just then, Mose said, Massa 
 Hazard came out the kitchen door, and after a while 
 axed the forlorn-looking critter to go into the house. 
 So he went in and sot down by the fire to warm hisself . 
 Arter a while Massa Hazard axed him to go into the 
 gret-room with him. So the poor, forlorn-looking skar- 
 crow did as he was told. What the poor critter said 
 to Massa Hazard, Mose said he did n't know, but he 
 never seed Massa Hazard so perlite to any strange man 
 before in all his life, as he was to him all at onct. 
 Missus Hazard, too, came out in the kitchen and told 
 Pliillis to make jest the goodest jonny-cakes and muf- 
 fins for tea as she would if she was making 'em for a 
 prince, and be sure to spare no pains in her coffee next 
 morning for breakfast. When bed-time come, Marga- 
 ret showed the strange man into the gret-room cham- 
 ber, where Missus Hazard only let her grand company 
 sleep. In the morning when the poor critter comedown- 
 stairs and sot down to the breakfast table so as to be 
 ready todrink Phillis' coffee jest so soon as it was boiled, 
 Abe said he never seed in all his life such a dumb- 
 founded looking skarcrow as the poor critter was until 
 he begun to smell the parfoom of Aunt Phillis' coffee 
 through the cracks in the kitchen door, when all at 
 onct he seemed to grow ten years younger than he was 
 afore. When the coffee-pot was brought in and Mar- 
 garet poured out a cup of coffee for the stranger, he guv 
 it one sniff with his nose and then took a big vial out 
 C 382 ] 
 
TWENTY -SIXTH BAKING 
 
 of his pocket that was sealed tight with wax, and arter 
 taking off the wax with his knife and prying out the 
 cork with his fork, he handed the vial to Missus Haz- 
 ard and axed her if she would do him the favor to 
 pour that stuff that was in the vial into her slop-bowl. 
 Instead of pouring it into the slop-bowl, Missus Haz- 
 ard poured it out into a coffee-cup, when the whole 
 room was filled with the bootiful parfoom, Mose said, 
 of Hotto o' Roses. When Missus Hazard handed the 
 empty vial back to the stranger, he went to work and 
 filled it with his teaspoon with coffee from his cup. Jist 
 so soon as he had got his vial full, the critter got up 
 from the table without eating a mouthful, and went to 
 his bed-room and brought down his saddle-bags, out 
 of which he took some red beeswax and sealed up the 
 vial so tight that not a drop of air could get in or out 
 of it. He then told Massa Hazard that he would do him 
 a great favor if he would have his mule saddled a little 
 quicker than no time, so that he might start right back 
 to Newport, where he came from the day before, and 
 where a ship was about to sail for Marseilles in France, 
 where he wanted to go without a minute's loss of time. 
 Mose said that he brought the mule to the door all sad- 
 dled and bridled, and tied the stranger's bundle of close 
 on behind the saddle, when he mounted, and handing 
 him a pistareen and bidding all a hurried good-bye, 
 he started right away for Franklin's Ferry, where a 
 boat lay ready to go, as it happened, at the wharf, 
 which the critter jumped his mule, and went aboard 
 straight away to Conanicut Ferry wharf, and so over 
 the island and across the ferry to the down-town ferry 
 wharf in Newport, near where the French ship named 
 
 c 383 :\ 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 ' ' Parly voo' ' lay that was bound to Marseilles , and which 
 sailed about one hour after the Dolphin of France, 
 for such he heered arterwards was the princely title of 
 the poor forlorn stranger, got his mule histed on board. 
 As good luck would have it, Mose said he heered the 
 ship had an oncommon short voyage, and jest so soon 
 as she anchored in the harbor at Marseilles, the Dol- 
 phin jumped a-horseback on his mule, and then right 
 overboard and swum ashore, nor did he stop to dry his 
 clothes, but started right away for old Jule Caesar's 
 house, the King of Rome, with all the speed and jist 
 as fast as his mule could go. Mose said the Dolphin 
 did n't reach ole Jule's until 9 o'clock on Christmas 
 Eve, when he arrived just as Whales had took 'Ria's 
 hand in his and had just stood up to be published 
 by the Pope of Rome, so as to be married next day. 
 Mose said that just as soon as the Dolphin got sight 
 of what was going on, he hollered out," You jist stop 
 that nonsense all on you, till you see what I have got to 
 say to 'Ria," when suiting the action to the word, he 
 hauled out of his breeches pocket the vial of Phillis' 
 coffee, and after taking out the stopple with his jack- 
 knife, jest put it right under 'Ria's nose. Up to that 
 time Mose said 'Ria had Whales' vial of otto clinched 
 in her right hand, which ever now and then she took 
 a sniff from, but after smelling Aunt Phillis' coffee, 
 the otto was so dreadfully bad smelling that she jist 
 slatted it into Whales'' face and eyes, telling him all the 
 time she wanted no more of his nasty stinking otto, 
 nor him nother, and the best thing he could do would 
 be to leave her daddy's house at onct, as she didn't 
 want him there bothering her and her de.2iV Dolphin any 
 
 C 384 ] 
 
TWENTY -SIXTH BAKING 
 
 longer. Ole Jiile told Whales^ too, that he had better 
 clear out and go right home to his daddy and mammy ^ 
 for he never did like him from the moment he first set 
 eyes on his ugly pug-nosed phiz. So Whales went to 
 his bed-room and packed his things in his saddle-bags 
 right away, and started for hum in Lunnon without 
 bidding anybody good-bye. So 'Ria, Mose said, mar- 
 ried the Dolphin the next morning. But, after she had 
 got out of bed, 'Ria's waiting-maid came to the door 
 of her chamber and told 'Ria that Whales had come 
 back agin and was then in the back yard axing about 
 some of his things that he had forgot. Upon this Mose 
 said 'Ria got straight out of bed and went to the back 
 window and asked Whales what on airth he wanted 
 so airly in the morning? Whales to\d 'Ria that he had 
 come back arter his red and yaller-spotted silk ban- 
 danna hankicher that he had forgot under his pillow, 
 and his yaller nankeen umbril. Upon this 'Ria went 
 and got Whales^ hankicher and throw 'd it out of the 
 winder to him, telling him at the same time that it 
 was half cotton and not all silk as he wanted to make 
 folks b'leve — and that he had better get his mammy 
 to wash it as soon as he got hum, as it was dredful 
 nasty. As for his yaller umbril, 'Ria said she could n't 
 find it and did n't b'leve he ever left one there ! Whales 
 said that he put his yaller umbril in the poke-hole side 
 of the fireplace. So 'Ria went and found the umbril in 
 the poke-hole and throwed it out to Whales, and wanted 
 to know why the darned fool put his yaller nankeen 
 umbril in that poke-hole for? Whales told 'Ria he put 
 it in the poke-hole to keep it out of sight, becas he 
 knowed the Dolphin would steal it. This made 'Ria 
 I 385 ] 
 
THE JONNY-CAKE PAPERS 
 
 awful mad, and she hollered to Whales if he did n't 
 clare out at once, and never show his ugly face in her 
 Daddy's house agin, she would set her Daddy's dog 
 on him. As JF hales was getting over the fence to go 
 away, 'Ria called to him and told him not to go and 
 tell everybody that some of her folks broke them two 
 sticks in his yaller umbril, for she had took notice that 
 they were broke the fust day he showed his ugly nose in 
 her Dad's house. Mose said that next morning, arter 
 an airly breakfast, \hQ Dolphin took 'Ria up behind him 
 on his mule's crupper and started for hum in Paris. 
 The Dolphin'' s mule did n't know how to go easy, 
 Mose said, "like the 'Gansett pacers, and trotted so 
 hard that 'Ria shwore by St. Bridget she would n't go 
 a step furder without the Dolphin would buy her a pil- 
 lion to ride on ! So the Dolphin went round all the fore- 
 noon to look up an old pillion that he could buy cheap. 
 After a while he found an old farmer Avho had a pretty 
 good pillion that he had no 'casion for, as his old woman 
 had died that used to ride on it, and did n't know as 
 he should ever git anuther. The farmer asked three 
 dollars for the pillion, but arter bartering an hour he 
 took up Louis' offer of two dollars and a harf. So the 
 Dolphin and 'Ria started ag'in, and in about fourteen 
 days got to Paris, just a week before the Dolphin's 
 daddy died, and the Dolphin and 'Ria were crowned 
 by the Pope, King and Queen of France. When 'Ria 
 got to be Queen she sent all over Paris to find some 
 French cook that could make coffee like Phillis', but 
 she could n't find any that could hold a dipped candle 
 to Phillis. This spiled 'Ria's temper and made her so 
 mad that she cut such didoes that Bonaparte came 
 [ 386 ] 
 
TWENTY -SIXTH BAKING 
 
 along, ' ' Mose said, as he had hearn say, ' ' and hanged 
 Louis and 'Ria with a green grapevine, across a ten 
 foot Varginny zig-zag rail fence, Louis on one side 
 and 'Ria on t' other." 
 
 The readers of the Journal are all aware of the dread- 
 ful revolution that preceded and followed the death of 
 Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, so that I need not 
 weary them with any further details. Should any cap- 
 tious bipeds feel disposed to find fault with my endeav- 
 ors to redeem my pledge to tell how Phillis, my grand- 
 father's never-enough-to-be-praised colored cook came 
 to be the ' ' remote cause of the French Revolution, and 
 the death of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette," or to 
 insinuate that I have brought my story to a lame and 
 impotent conclusion, I hope they will charge a part of 
 the blame to Mose, rather than all to Shepherd Tom. 
 Good-bye. 
 
 Stout JeffreyHas^rd's 
 
 Stout Jeffrey Hazard lifted this Stone, 
 In pounds just sixteen twenty one. 
 In South Kingstown he lined and died, 
 God save us all from sinful Pride. 
 
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Notes 
 
Notes 
 
 Note I, page 36. 
 
 Geneml Charles R. Brayton served with distinction in the Civil 
 War, and was made Postmaster of Providence. The gallant offi- 
 cer was a strong partisan in politics, losing his office through the 
 discovery of his misuse of Government moneys for election ex- 
 penses of the party. He later studied law, became attorney for 
 many powerful corporations, and eventually was known as the 
 political boss of Rhode Island. The loss of his eyesight seemed to 
 strengthen his grip on politics. Tall, strongly framed, and mas- 
 sive, he had a contempt for weaker men. His sangfroid was well 
 illustrated in his later years when, under severe criticism as a 
 machine politician, he addressed his fellow delegates in a political 
 convention in Pawtucket as ^^ Friends and Fellow Machinists." 
 
 Note 2, page 44. 
 
 Amongst the rare treats to be found on Friend Almy's table were 
 large Spanish olives. On one occasion, when a country Friend from 
 the Main (as all other parts of Rhode Island were called in con- 
 tradistinction to the Island of Aquidneck) was a guest, he, being 
 very fond of plums, and sure that he saw a dish of green gages 
 before him, helped himself without comment, but, after one taste, 
 said to his amused host, "Excuse me, friend, if I put this plum 
 back; it's spiled. '* 
 
 Note 3, page 50. 
 
 The wells in Washington County often seem to bubble, but not 
 from air or gas. An underground river flows under much of this 
 blessed land, so that the surface of the water is dimpled, as any one 
 can see for himself, if he but look down the right well. 
 
 Note 4, page 86. 
 
 This childlike faith was a striking characteristic of Shepherd Tom 
 in his dealings with mediums in later life. Moreover, in his matur- 
 ity, there was no "Abe" to inject a doubt. He scorned any ques- 
 tion, no matter what its origin, and accepted as gospel truth state- 
 ments quite as fantastic as that made by "Mose." 
 
 C 391 ] 
 
NOTES 
 
 Note 5, page 90. 
 
 "Metcalf Bowler was bom in England in 1726. Emigrated to 
 America in early manhood and settled in Rhode Island. For nine- 
 teen years he was Speaker of the House of Representatives in the 
 Colony of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations. For six years 
 he was one of the Judgfs of the Supreme Court. For one year, Chief 
 Justice. He, with Henry Ward, was a delegate from the Colonies 
 in 1745. He kept a four-in-hand, and had two houses, — his town 
 house, now known as the Vernon Mansion in Newport, and his 
 country house at Portsmouth, now kno-wTi as the Chase Farm. He 
 prided himself on his well-tilled garden and farm, and was one of 
 the few men in Colonial days who had a greenhouse. He wrote 'A 
 Treatise on Agriculture and Practical Husbandry,' and speaks of 
 it to the 'candid reader' as the production of some leisure houre. 
 He introduced the now famous Rhode Island Greening into Amer- 
 ica. The first tree was grown on his Poi-tsmouth farm. The seed 
 came from Persia. He is supposed to have brought it home, after 
 being shipwrecked in China. Other accounts say that, knowing his 
 taste for gardening, one of his sea captains brought him a cutting 
 which he developed. He gp.ve a great entertainment in Newport to 
 the friends of liberty to celebrate the repeal of the Stamp Act in 
 1777. A portrait by Copley is said to be in the possession of John 
 Lippitt Snow of Providence." Extracted from the Notes of Mrs. 
 Robert Bonner Boivler. 
 
 Note 6, page 111. 
 
 Little Rest, that is, Kingston Village.. 
 
 Note 7, page 111. 
 
 Kingston Court House, where the Legislature sat, vv^as also used as 
 a Court House as late as 1900, when the new Stone Court House 
 at West Kingston was built. If Shepherd Tom had lived to see this 
 pretentious new house built, we may be sure he would have drawn 
 very uncomfortable inferences from the bad design and poor work- 
 manship of the new building, which had a leaky roof, and, woret of 
 all, a vault so badly contrived that it mildewed and rotted the recoixis 
 it was meant to protect. The old Court House was dignified, roomy, 
 and capacious. Legislatures, Courts, and Town meetings were there 
 
 C 392 ;] 
 
NOTES 
 
 assembled for more than one generation. It is now (1915) used by 
 the people of Kingston as a public library. 
 
 Note 8 , page 113. 
 
 Recently known as the Lucca House, a gambrel-roofed, shingled 
 
 house of generous proportions. Still in good repair in 1 9 1 5 . 
 
 Note 9, page 123. 
 
 This form of the Wee wee woman tale is forgotten hereabouts. Was 
 it told by his grandmother Peace, or Granny Hazard ? The former 
 came from Barbados, and this may be the West Indian form. 
 
 Note \0, page 131. 
 
 This house was north of and across the street from the Wilkins 
 Updike house, still standing (in 1915), and kept in perfect order 
 by Mrs. Hunt (whose mother, Mrs. Richard K. Randolph, was 
 an Updike) , who is greatly interested in all antiquarian lore. The 
 James Helme house was last used as a dwelling by Fayerweathers, 
 descendants, doubtless, of the slaves of the family of that name. In 
 1900 the sagging ridge and bulging sides had made it a pictur- 
 esque ruin, in which condition it still gave shelter to several fam- 
 ilies, until finally taken down piecemeal in 1909. So solidly was 
 it framed, however, that the razing of this old house was a long job 
 and a costly. 
 
 Note 1 1, page 132. 
 
 Mat Waite was the son of a silversmith, John Waite, who wrought 
 at his trade near upon a century ago. His father also was a worker 
 in silver. John Waite was Captain of the South Kingstown Reds all 
 through the War of the Revolution. The scales and some tools which 
 belonged to him are preserved by his great-grandson, Benjamin 
 Waite Case, of Wakefield, R. I. 
 
 Note 12, page 133. 
 
 This cotton manufactory, long since forgotten, was a small affair, 
 even for those days. It stood on the westerly slope of the hill south- 
 westerly from the Court House, near a beautiful spring of water 
 which still gushes from the earth near what is now called Biscuit 
 Caty. This spring gave a supply of water, used on an overshot wheel, 
 
 C 393 ] 
 
NOTES 
 
 some say thirty feet in diameter. The owners of this factory formed 
 the first corporation in New England for the cotton manufac- 
 ture. 
 
 Note 13, page 134. 
 
 This list might be greatly extended. The speech of the South County 
 is still quaint, though since the advent of the "summer boarder" 
 (pronounced summer bowder) , much of its originality is lost. A few 
 examples are: Driftway, first used of a pass way for teams between 
 sand dunes, often applied to a wood path, or private road. To 
 spread sea- weed siiantly is to spread it evenly. Some still speak of 
 a Robin, meaning a shirt. Hapharlots are still woven in South 
 Kingstown, being a kind of coarse coverlet. If you ask the right 
 man how he is feeling, he will perhaps answer that he is " some 
 weller" to-day. The driver of a load of sea- weed will understand if 
 you ask him " How 's the flight, heavy? " He may answer " Yes, 
 quite heavy," or "Wall, no, rather short." The "flight of sea- 
 weed" may sound odd, but it's orthodox in the South County; 
 it applies to the mass of weed washed up on the beaches after a 
 storm. 
 
 Note 14, page 138. 
 
 The sketch of Joe Runnell's tavern will help to identify this famous 
 resort. It is on the northerly side of the village street, but has not 
 been used as a tavern since some yeai-s before the death of John N. 
 Taylor in 1894. The present owner. Dr. Philip K. Taylor, changed 
 the building into apartments, now used by teachers in the Rhode 
 Island State College. Dr. Taylor himself prefers a berth as ship's 
 doctor, and plies regularly between New York and West Indian 
 ports. 
 
 Note \ 5, page 142. 
 
 William B. Weeden tells of an English captain who was captured 
 by a swarthy privateer. Captain Gazzee, of nondescript dress and 
 outlandish rig, and brought a prisoner to East Greenwich Harbor. 
 A bystander noticed the Englishman, who had borne himself bravely 
 to that moment, furtively shedding bitter tears. On being asked the 
 reason for his grief, he said he would not have cared if taken by 
 a vessel of war, ending with, "but it 's more'n I can bear to be 
 
 C 394 ] 
 
NOTES 
 
 captured by a dam'd old squaw — in a hog trough. ' ' See Weeden's 
 Early Rhode Island, page 340. 
 
 Note \6^page 144. 
 
 Besides the hot lemonade sweat, Shepherd Tom was firmly con- 
 vinced of the merit of a cathartic pill, usually sold in small boxes 
 of a dozen packed in powdered liquorice. He once gave me two 
 of these to rout a cold I felt coming on. On my complaining the 
 next morning of their too drastic effect, he said, " Why, two for a 
 child is right, but I usually take a whole box myself." I believe 
 this was literally true. Cf. Richard Ligon's True and Exact His- 
 tory of the Island of Barbados. London, 1657. The Physic Nut, 
 page 67. 
 
 Note 17, page 146. 
 
 Dr. Aldrich had a son Luke, who became an undertaker. He made 
 
 the coffins himself, and buried them. Asked how his business throve, 
 
 he answered solemnly, "Pretty good, thank 'ee, specially in short 
 
 sizes." 
 
 Note 18, page 148. 
 
 The implacable hatred of Connecticut here breaks out with even less 
 constraint than usual. The origin of this feeling dates back to the 
 early settlement of the two states. Rhode Island was filled with a 
 host of sectarians and free thinkers, individualists one and all. Con- 
 necticut, on the other hand, was mostly settled by Presbyterians, 
 who closely watched their neighbors in the effort to keep their own 
 population orthodox. But the venom was often assumed in these 
 Jonny-Cake Papere, though I can still see the gleam in Shepherd 
 Tom's cold blue eye as he told some story to the discredit of Con- 
 necticut. 
 
 Note \9,page 154. 
 
 Rodman's Mill, so called from Benny Rodman, who stuck his 
 buttonwood switch into the mill-dam at Peace Dale. His grist-mill 
 was near this mill-dam. 
 
 Note 20, page 154. 
 
 This lively allusion is to the long period after the Sprague failure 
 
 during which the late Governor William Sprague held possession 
 
 C 395 H 
 
NOTES 
 
 of Canonchet, at times by force of arms, even defying the officers 
 of Court sent to take possession. He kept a force of armed sentries 
 on duty for some months. 
 
 Note 21 J page 156. 
 
 Asa Stedman. Asa's pond, the lowest Rocky Brook pond, was 
 
 named for him ; now sometimes ignorantly corrupted to Lazy pond. 
 
 Note 22, page 158. 
 
 Of Kit Comstock a rural witticism is remembered. He was bald, 
 quite completely so, but wore a flowing beard. When asked what 
 had become of his hair, he would reply, " Oh, I pulled it through," 
 with a tug at his beard. 
 
 Note 25, page 159. 
 
 In this parenthesis, the feeling which once ran high between New- 
 port and Providence shows clearly enough. Upon the one occasion 
 when Uncle Tom spent a night Avith his nephew Rowland (here 
 alluded to) , at his house in Providence, he demanded to know how 
 it was possible to live in such an unheard-of place. On being given 
 a big plate of hot Jonny-cakes, made by Isaac Rice, a very won- 
 derful cook (with Indian blood in his veins) , he remarked that he 'd 
 admit they would help a man to live contented anywhere, "even 
 in Providence." 
 
 Note 24,, page 168. 
 
 This casual mention of Sim Hazard, "the Narragansett Lawyer," 
 leads naturally to regret that proofs of his acuteness are not given. 
 But there is no room for doubt that a taste for the law was fostered 
 in the region of which Little Rest was the centre. So lately as the 
 year 1888 there was living on Pondhead Road one of these "sea 
 lavryers," who, like unlettered Sim, loved to attend Court, knew the 
 dates for regular and special term, and besides knew the docket of 
 cases, and the names of counsel retained. This was George R., as 
 honest a man as ever was bom, quick-tempered but kind-hearted, 
 just and fair but unyielding when imposed upon ; law abiding him- 
 self, he was equally determined that othei-s should respect the law. 
 He loved the chance of a lawsuit as the pampered youth of to-day 
 love a ticket to the Harvai-d-Yale football game. One day George's 
 neighbor caught a little son of George's stoning his house, and 
 
 [ 396 ] 
 
NOTES 
 
 threatened to have the boy arrested. When George heard of it, he 
 told his wife to forbid the sheriff if he tried to arrest the child, 
 then only five years old, relying on an ancient rule of law prohibit- 
 ing the arrest of minore under seven against the wish of parent or 
 guardian. The sheriff came and arrested the boy next day against 
 the protest of his mother, who had her mother behind the door as 
 witness. 
 
 In due time the neighbor brought his suit, and Squire C. was 
 retained by George to defend. Now Squire C. was held to be the 
 ablest advocate in those parts, but feeling sure of his case, permitted 
 the enemy to entertain him so freely that, when called on, he made 
 so lame a defense that he lost the case. George paid him 82 for 
 his services, and remarking that he would attend to the matter him- 
 self, appealed to the higher Court. As soon as the neighbor heard 
 Squire C. had been released, he retained him to appear for him when 
 the appeal should come up. 
 
 George R. obtained leave to argue his case, and told the facts 
 so clearly and forcibly that he won his case without delay. It was 
 a hot June day, the Judge had risen after adjourning Court, when 
 George, grinning broadly, asked leave to speak a final word. The 
 lawyers. Court, attendants, and spectators paused to listen. "Yer 
 Honor," said George, his eyes gleaming, "I've heered oi good 
 lawyere losin' cases now 'n' then, but this is the fust time I ever 
 heered of a good lawyer losin' both sides of the same case." 
 
 Note "25, page 169. 
 
 A bronze tablet let into the surface of this stone bears this legend : 
 
 "Stout Jeffrey Hazard lifted this Stone, 
 In pounds just sixteen twenty one. 
 In South Kingstown he lived and died, 
 God save us all from sinful Pride." 
 
 Edward Everett Hale, President Noah Porter of Yale, and Mrs. 
 Rowland Hazard of Oakwoods, mother of the present writer, were 
 judges of the competition, when some twenty or more verses written 
 to mark this blue stone were submitted to their decision. The judges 
 had no clue to the authorship, and were perplexed by the excellence 
 of the proposed inscriptions, finally agreeing upon this one here 
 quoted, which proved to be the work of Rowland Hazard^, who 
 
 I S91 ] 
 
NOTES 
 
 had the stone removed from Boston Neck to Oakwoods, where it 
 still remains in this year of grace 1915. 
 
 Nott 26^ page 178. 
 
 Written about 1880. This desire, to test " railroad, bank, and other 
 corporation thieves" by Mount's method, has found expression 
 in the career of Roosevelt. The same idea now actuates the mob, 
 which joins in a country-wide accusing cry, denouncing a// corpo- 
 rate activity, hounding the railroads to the point of extermination, 
 heedless of the social and commercial paralysis that must follow a 
 belief, however ill-founded, in wholesale and universal fraud. Vio- 
 lent though he was. Shepherd Tom set bounds to his diatribes. He 
 was more sane, more discriminating, than the audacious Colonel 
 of Rough Riders. 
 
 Note 27, page 179. 
 
 For location of Caesar's Plain, consult the map. 
 
 Note '28, page 18a. 
 
 Rochester was the official name of Little Rest before it was so called. 
 This must be an error, one of the very few of its kind which occur 
 in the Jonny-Cake Papers. 
 
 Note 29, page 191. 
 
 This allusion to the benefits coming through the Manufacturing In- 
 dustries to the people should be considered in connection vrith Note 
 24 (on page 168). It is an example of the exercise of sound sense, 
 and renders unto Caesar that which is justly his. 
 
 Note 30, page 191. 
 
 Somewhat careful inquiry in New York and Rhode Island fails to 
 reveal the name of either one of the consorts of "Sal Wilcox." 
 That it is an incident based on fact is thought likely, but the 
 name was veiy probably changed of set purpose ; a desire to avoid 
 the penalty for libel doubtless combined with a prudence seldom 
 practiced by Shepherd Tom to conceal the victim of his satire under 
 a fictitious name. 
 
 Note 31, page 210. 
 
 Joseph M. Blake, the "Nestor of the Rhode Island Bar," had a son 
 
 Charles, who was the author of a literary hoax, printed in the Ap- 
 
 [ 398 ] 
 
NOTES 
 
 pendix to this volume. Edward H. Hazard (brother to Dr. William 
 H. Hazard, of Wakefield) was a contemporary of Shepherd Tom, 
 and a clever lawyer of convivial habits ; he was often asked to write 
 obituary notices for the Providence Journal. His style was discursive, 
 but pleasing and very unique. Some one told Charles Blake that 
 Lawyer Ned's style was " inimitable." "I '11 show you about that,'* 
 said he, and forthwith wrote his own obituary, following the man- 
 ner and style of Lawyer Ned "inimitably." So clever was the pre- 
 tended obituary that when seen by Lawyer Ned, it so chagrined 
 him that he vowed he would never write anotlier obituary. 
 
 Note 32, page 226. 
 
 That this flight of fancy was mea'nt by Shepherd Tom as a satirical 
 joke at his own expense is proved by the extravagant claims to per- 
 sonal beauty here made. For one who was notably careless of appear- 
 ances, and never gave a thought to physical grace, this sudden 
 assumption of the role of Apollo must have appealed to that keen 
 sense of the ludicrous with which the reader has become familiar. 
 Forbes & Co. , of Boston, lithographers, cannot now furnish a copy 
 of this portrait of Phillis. 
 
 Note 33, page 237. 
 
 This very obvious political satire, ludicrous though it may seem to 
 some, was as venomous a thrust at ' ' President & Governor mak- 
 ers " as T. R. H. could make it. He was greatly shocked and highly 
 indignant over the Hayes-Tilden national election, and also was 
 deeply disgusted at the " counting out " of the Rhode Island govern- 
 orship of his nephew, Rowland Hazard, who in a three-sided elec- 
 tion polled a plurality of the votes cast, but lost the election in the 
 end when a Boss-ridden Legislature declared another candidate, 
 who had actually fewer votes, elected by the General Assembly. 
 
 Note 34, page 242. 
 
 Tom Rodman's grog was held to be the best in the County. Squire 
 Hooper and his old crony, Gran'ther Holland, differed on this point 
 alone, for Gran'ther Holland always upheld the peculiar merit of 
 Elisha Watson's drink. These two rumsellers were keen rivals in 
 the groggery business, both managing to keep their customers in 
 debt, and in the end taking even their farms at forced sale. In short, 
 
 [ S99 ] 
 
NOTES 
 
 they were a precious pair. The story runs that one foggy summer 
 morning, Gran'ther Holland sent word to Squire Hooper that it 
 was a likely day to go tautogin' on Peaked Rock. They often fished 
 together, and were the best of friends, quarreling only on the point 
 of drink. So, taking their heavy chestnut saplin peeled poles, they 
 went down to the Peaked Rock, then still standing upright on the 
 ledge where Whimsy Cot, now the property of Mrs. Irving Fisher, 
 of New Haven, stands overlooking the rock. The day turned out 
 badly — hot and hotter till the sun burned off the fog, so the tautog 
 got shy and lay swinging in the tide waiting for the twilight ; the 
 anglers lost their bait, and their tempers also ; now and then by 
 chance they "stole" a chogset, pest of the tautog fisherman. Most 
 of these wily thieves dropped back, and of course told their friends 
 below, whowsswas after them. A few were saved for the frying-pan. 
 No fish has a finer flavor, when properly fried. Along about noon 
 Gran'ther Holland growled out, " Le 's give up, and go on home, 
 no use brilin' here any longer. " " All right, ' ' says Squire Hooper, 
 "I '11 jest fish up my last crab." So he tied her on good and solid, 
 and hadn't more'n got his line down when he felt a big one take 
 holt, and bore down hard on his big pole, to hist him out. The 
 big tautog, soon's he felt the pull, sung out with fright, "Chog- 
 setties, who in hell has got hold of that thar dam pole ? " "Squire 
 Hooper! ole boy. Squire Hooper!" Hearing this, the big fish 
 groaned out, "Good-bye, boys, I guess I 'ma goner. I'llbeto Tom 
 Rodman's afore sunset.'* 
 
 Note 35^ page 285. 
 
 A copy of Comstock's "History," here copiously quoted, may be 
 seen in the Rider Collection, now in the possession of Brown Uni- 
 versity. It was an agreeable surprise to find this copy of a book 
 thought by many to be apocryphal. Some have said that the whole 
 of Cat Story No. 2 was an invention of Shepherd Tom's. The find- 
 ing of a copy of Comstock's "History " sets at rest this moot point, 
 and must fully establish the veracious character of the Jonny-Cake 
 Papei's as a whole! The character designated by Comstock as 
 
 "Mr.* " is undoubtedly " 'Lisha Garner, the Cat Inspector." 
 
 While confirmatory and interesting most readers will find Shep- 
 herd Tom's narrative much the clearer. 
 
 [400] 
 
NOTES 
 
 Note 56^ page 305. 
 
 As another opinion on this delicate point is held by the coastwise 
 skippers, who often take hoi*se mackerel on a standing troll-line, it 
 may be mentioned here without prejudice. It is their belief that to 
 be perfect a bluefish must be killed, split, and dried on a board set 
 up in the weather rigging for at least one hour before being broiled. 
 This treatment gives excellent results. 
 
 Note 2,7^ page 312. 
 
 Many other stories of this tipsy fisher are still rife in Narragansett. 
 He had coal black hair like his brother Reuben. Both were expert 
 fishermen. John used to say, "A gallon o' rum will go furder in my 
 family than a bushel o' meal. " He, like other men, often made good 
 resolutions. As he neared the corner where he usually got his rum, 
 he was overheard muttering, as he staggered from one side of the 
 road to the other, ' ' Stiddy on her helium, John ; 'member yer raser- 
 lution. Yekin git by if ye don't have to fetch more 'n onemore tack. 
 Hold 'er hard now, you 'm most fetched by. 'Member yer raserlu- 
 tion."Then, as he actually did pass the grog-shop corner, — "Thar 
 now, what'd I tell ye, ye've fotched by, now ye can go back and 
 treat yer raserlution ! ' ' Like John, his brother. Captain Reuben, was 
 commonly three sheets in the wind. One spring day, in crossing the 
 Hundred acres, he fell over a wall, pulling down some top stones 
 vdth him. One of these fell on his face, smashing his big nose and 
 stunning him. He lay there all night, while two or three inches of 
 snow turning to rain fell. Captain Richard Crandall found him next 
 day flat on his back ; the snow had melted on face and hands, and 
 as Captain Richard stood looking down. Captain Reuben opened 
 one eye. "Wall, Cap'n Reuben," said Captain Richard, "you'm 
 abaout ruined, ain't ye ? " " Why yus, Cap'n Richard. I've abaout 
 broke my cherry-picker off." 
 
 Note 38, page 322. 
 
 " Superb " is an adjective chosen in compliment to the press of the 
 Newport Mercury. The book is a modest volume, now very scarce, 
 and contains many unclassified anecdotes, as well as somewhat 
 sketchy biographical details of the Hazard, Robinson, and Sweet 
 families in Narragansett. In full the title reads: 
 
 Recollections of Olden Times : / Rowland Robinson of Narragan- 
 
 C 401 ] 
 
NOTES 
 
 sett and his unfortu-/nate daughter, /With (Genealogies of the Rob- 
 inson, Hazard, and Sweet /Families of Rhode Island./ By/ Thomas 
 R. Hazard, / "Shepherd Tom," / in his eighty-first and eighty-sec- 
 ond years. /Also Genealogical Sketch of the Hazards of the Middle 
 States / By Willard P. Hazard / of Westchester, Pa./ Newport, 
 R. I.: / Published by John P. Sanborn, /1 879./ 
 
 Note 29^ page 326. 
 
 The facts about the first power looms run in New England have been 
 collated by Bagnall, to whose book the curious reader is referred. 
 Peace Dalers are still defending their title to this honor. Vide Gov. 
 Royal C. Taft, "Notes on the Woolen Manufacture," page 40. 
 
 Note 40, page 327. 
 
 Yorker pond was the name given to the long, narrow sheet of 
 water near Slocum's Comer. A factory is still running (1913) at 
 the foot of this pond. The houses standing near this factory form 
 the \'illage alluded to — Yorker village. The beautiful Yawgoo pond 
 lies northwest of Kingston village, partly in South Kingstown, 
 partly in Exeter. It has many pines about it, and a shining white 
 sandy floor. 
 
 Note 41, page 344. 
 
 This is a reference to the house still standing at the southerly ramp 
 of the Tower Hill ridge, which bears the old village of Tower Hill 
 on its saddle, so to speak. The northerly summit is called MacSparran 
 Hill. Firet built as an hotel, its remoteness from the bathing beach 
 was thecauseof its rapid decline. Theoriginal builders laid a narrow- 
 gauge track and ran cars drawn by mules for the free use of guests. 
 It was a slow and dusty ride, mostly uphill. Soon the tracks were 
 taken up. For many years President James Burrill Angell, of Ann 
 Arbor, Michigan, was the last guest of the season. As the manager 
 usually absconded, leaving the servants unpaid, this became a bore, 
 and when even the genial Angell gave up his favorite view, the 
 house was closed for good. It is now used by the fresh air charity of 
 Providence. It has been a hotel, a boarding-house, a colored school 
 for training domestic servants, and last of all, a shelter for city 
 waifs. It affords a varied and delightful prospect from Gay Head 
 on Martha's Vineyard to Montauk Point on Long Island, besides 
 
 [ 402 ] 
 
^ NOTES 
 
 giving the nearest and clearest survey of the lovely Point Judith 
 ponds. 
 
 Note 42, page 357. 
 
 A good example of the curiously involved style commonly used 
 by Shepherd Tom's "brother Joe." He does not mean to allude 
 to two men named Totten, although he appears to do so. One can 
 usually discover his meaning. 
 
 Note 45, page 358. 
 
 Many buttonwood trees (sycamores) still (1915) adorn the land- 
 scape hereabouts. The row of them planted by Rowland Hazard® 
 upon an east and west farm line which passes through Holly House 
 are in a good state, though the first crop of leaves is often blighted, 
 giving them a ragged look until they have time to leave out a 
 second time, sometimes not until July. The tender young leaves 
 seem to suffer from the cold Northeasters, whose icy breath shrivels 
 and strips them off. 
 
 Note 44, page 359. 
 
 Ducky. Still a favorite nickname in South Kingstown for popular 
 
 women of agreeable manners and disposition. 
 
 Note 45, page 359. 
 
 " As lucky as Jim Phillips ' ' has become a local saying, with which 
 Shepherd Tom was clearly familiar. Also a sarcastic use of the epi- 
 sode of the ' ' buttonwood limb ' ' occurs," Luckier 'n Jim Phillips. ' ' 
 
 Note 46, page 361. 
 
 Benny Nichols, father of two sons, both men of strong character, 
 who lived tlieir entire lives in Peace Dale, Matthew and Cornelius, 
 the latter, like his father, a skilful fisherman. He once hooked a sixty- 
 pound striped bass on his hand trolling line baited with an eel- 
 skin, and got the big fish over the outer ledge which girdles the best 
 stand on Indian Rock. When the suds cleared away, " Comiel," 
 as he was oftenest called, could see the big fellow lying in the pool, 
 rather spent by his stubborn fight, but likely to be washed out by 
 the next big breaker, then about due. Determined not to lose so 
 fine a catch, he jumped in and scrambled out again with the strug- 
 gling bass in his arms, just in time to escape a breaker which would 
 have stunned or killed him. 
 
 C 403 J 
 
Appendix 
 
Appendix 
 
 A PRETENDED obituary, written by Charles Blake to cari- 
 cature the style of Lawyer Ned Hazard. See note, page 210. 
 
 Charles Blake 
 
 "I count myself in nothing else so hapfiy 
 As in a soul remembering my good friends." 
 
 Charles has gone ! I was never more stricken than when Payne 
 — why isn't he in Congress to-day — said those words to me last 
 night. I was hardly able to bear the blow, for I had been till past 
 midnight conferring with a client indicted for stealing from his 
 mother, a very worthy woman, who has been a domestic upward 
 of forty years in the family of Robert Ives, and a more interesting 
 case was never before a jury, unless I except that on Crowninshield, 
 and all of my readers have heard of Webster's splendid effort in 
 behalf of the commonwealth against him. I was present at the time 
 and was mute with wonder and delight. I hope some day to write 
 an account of it. 
 
 " Why must the good die and ive nvho lament them 
 Live beneath the glimfises of the moon?" 
 
 Isn't that from Hamlet^ Mr. Editor? Blake could have told me 
 — I think I see him now as he used to stand when the fee table was 
 unrepealed — and I never knew a law the repeal of which was more 
 earnestly demanded for tlie ends of public justice and the peace of 
 the bar than that same fee table. I see him now with this bill in his 
 hand presenting it to me as he had often done before with a smile 
 that headed off my too ready oath and a sarcasm as subtle as good- 
 natured against those needy wretches who, like myself, had more 
 brains than money — I use his own words. 
 
 When his office was in the cellar of the Old Court House (When 
 are those beautiful speeches of Chief Justice Durfee and my brother 
 Payne at the dedication of the New Court House to be published ?) 
 he had much trouble with rheumatic pains, and I can recall the look 
 of suffering he habitually wore as he mounted the narrow stairs 
 leading to the court room until on accidentally meeting me his face 
 
 [ 407 ;] 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 would shine like that of an ang^l and he would ejaculate, " Oh, you 
 good man — " and I think he meant it too. Hoav I wish I was as 
 restful about the future state as was Charles. He seemed to have no 
 anxiety touching the things 
 
 *' Beyond the reaches of our souls." 
 
 George Rivers once told a story of the lamented Truman Beck- 
 with that makes me think of my friend Charles. It was in the old 
 building that stood at the comer of College and South Main streets 
 and there I had an office and around me were the offices of some 
 choice spirits, I can tell you. There Rivei-s, with his brotlier the 
 Doctor, who years afterward did a yeoman's service in the War of 
 the Rebellion, and myself have passed many an evening in potations 
 pottle deep like so many Tarn o'Shanters till the moon had passed 
 in the wee sma' hours beyond that port of heaven's special land- 
 mark. 
 
 "Dark arch the key stane." 
 
 Shall we ever see the fellows to Burns or Willy Shakespeare ? In 
 the autumn of 1 842 I made a journey with Ben Curtis, afterward 
 the Judge, and Rufus Choate to Washington to see the President 
 about the extradition of Governor Dorr from the State of New 
 Hampshire. It was a very important matter, and after several hours' 
 discussion Choate appeared to weary of it and began to quote Bums. 
 Poem after poem he repeated, and on my expressing wonder at the 
 retentive power of his memory he told me that he had no poets in 
 his library but Bums and Shakespeare. I think he was right, for they 
 can fill up any ordinary mind. A man must have great capacity to 
 really need such a collection as belonged to that ripe old scholar, 
 John Carter Brown, now in heaven. I wonder if the arbutus grows 
 in heaven. I love its fragrance better than that of the violet or the 
 twisted eglantine or the lush woodbine. Tolo ccelo. Oh, those old 
 authors, shall we ever equal them ? Hart (I wish I had his concise, 
 energetic style of address when I present a case to the Court) was 
 there with the two Rivers, and Philip Crapo had just gone over the 
 way to Stimson and Hodges', purveyors of the best of potables. I 
 wish I had space to tell my younger reader's about Crapo. Rivers said 
 that a poor cripple had just been into an insurance office near by 
 and had presented a subscription paper to Beckwith, who sat there 
 
 C 408 ] . 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 with anumberof substantial citizens. " Why don't you work ?" tes- 
 tily asked Beckwith. " I am too weak," said the man. ' ' I broke my 
 leg and have been laid up in the hospital a month." Beckwith in- 
 stantly replied : "That's no reason for begging. I once broke my 
 leg and was laid up two months, and nobody went around with a 
 subscription paper for me." This retort was unanswerable and the 
 man slunk away in shame. Rivers said he could never forget the 
 austere majesty that marked the features of the high-minded re- 
 prover. Charles was just as apt in some of his replies when asked to 
 do anything to which he was averse. Possibly he had a tongue at 
 times somewhat too tart, for it was he that made the distinction be- 
 tween lawyere and attorneys which made such acrimonious feeling 
 against him at the bar a few years ago. I confess I shared it at the 
 time, but not now. 
 
 Earl C. Harris was then in full practice, with a future before 
 him, but he has since left the bar "to darkness and to me." There 
 were giants in those days. We had no colored lawyers then. 
 
 It was in the autumn of 1852 I first became acquainted with 
 Charles Blake, or Charley as he was then called. I wonder if he is 
 called Charley where he is now. I had just concluded a speech in 
 the House of Representatives in answer to Gen. Carpenter and was 
 struck by the rapt attention of a youthful face of marked intelli- 
 gence. I was so much interested in the appearance of the young man 
 that I went into the lobby and introduced myself to him. Then I 
 learned that he was the son of my old friend, Joseph M. Blake, of 
 Bristol, the Nestor of the Rhode Island Bar, and that he had just 
 entered Brown University. From that time our intercourse increased 
 until at the time of his death we had become 
 
 "Coup-led and inseparable like Juno's swans." 
 In all his troubles his unvarying resort for advice and sympathy 
 was to me, and thus I had the best opportunity for seeing his inner 
 life, and I can say with perfect sincerity that I wish every one who 
 had gone before had as guileless a heart as my departed friend and 
 was as fit for the journey. I had had similar confidential relations 
 with William Sanford, who, too, has passed away on " that black 
 camel that kneeleth once at each man's door. " I had befriended him, 
 too, and how grateful he was ! Poor William ! Strange that a man 
 
 C 409 ] 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 will put an enemy within his mouth to takeaway his brains. A flood 
 of recollections overwhelm me, called forth by the mention of San- 
 ford's name. I could fill your paper with them did I not put a bridle 
 to my inclinations, but I will tax your patience no longer. I am 
 hardly fit to write to-day. 
 
 So Charles has gone. Many will say to-day, " We could have bet- 
 ter spared a better man. ' ' How we all drop like leaves by the wayside. 
 Oh, my God, my God ! 
 
 C 410 ] 
 
Index 
 
Index 
 
 Aaron, Tom, 314, 318. 
 
 Abbey, Old, 161, 182. 
 
 Abe, 61, 67, 85, 88, 219,240, 
 
 260, 303, 352, 364, 382. 
 Abram, 304. 
 Adams, John, 232, 236. 
 Addison, 138. 
 Aldrich, Dr., 64, 145, 148, 
 
 294. 
 Alexander, 37, 330. 
 Allen, Mr., 267. 
 Allen, Ned, 263, 266. 
 Allen, Pete, 220. 
 Allen, Sheriflf Sam, 114. 
 Almira, 57. 
 Almy, Christopher, 43. 
 Almy, Slater & Brown, 43. 
 Almy, William, 43. 
 Amboy, 101. 
 Ammidon, Mre., 177. 
 Ammidon, Elder, 173, 176. 
 Ammon, George, 318. 
 Anthony, 198, 350. 
 Anthony, L.D., 298. 
 Antigua, 170. 
 Aplin, Lawyer Joe, 112, 162, 
 
 257. 
 Apple dumplings, 108. 
 Apple Tree Plain, 8 1 . 
 Aquidneck, 340. 
 Arabia, 211. 
 Arlington, Jim, 120. 
 Armstrong, Nat, 274. 
 Arnold, Hon. S. G., 270. 
 
 C 41 
 
 Arnold Tavern, 277. 
 Assyria, 89, 104, 211. 
 
 Babcock, Adam, 247. 
 Babcock, Mr., 343. 
 Babcock, Rowse, 171. 
 Babcock, Silas, 274. 
 Babcock, Mrs. Silas, 274, 297. 
 Baldface, Old, 59. 
 Barber, Charles P., 137. 
 Barber, William, 311. 
 Barker, Charles, 161, 247,292. 
 Barker, Charles, Jr. , 1 62 . 
 Barlow, Joel, 1 7. 
 Barnum, 265. 
 Barton's wharf, 2 69, 302. 
 Beaver Tail, 376. 
 Belcher, Simon, 258. 
 Bergh, Henry, 192. 
 Biddy, 74. 
 
 Billington, Bob, 78, 80. 
 Blake, Hon. Joseph M., 2 10. 
 Blue Point, 38. 
 Blue Rocks, 259. 
 Bologna, 69. 
 
 Bonaparte, 62, 155, 219, 331. 
 Boose, Sharper, 228. 
 Boot Jack, 162. 
 Boss, Jabe, 248. 
 Boss, Peter, 293. 
 Boston brown bread, 17, 28. 
 Boston Common, 161. 
 Boston Neck, 208, 315, 319, 
 321, 326, 337, 346, 360. 
 
 3 ] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Boston Neck Road, 360. 
 Bourns, Lawyer, 1 62. 
 Bowler farm, 103, 155. 
 Bowler, Mr., 90, 211. 
 Bo^\^le, Robert, 358. 
 Boylston street, 187. 
 Brayton, Gen. Chas. R., 36, 
 
 200. 
 Bridge street, Newport, 269. 
 Bristol, 111, 210. 
 Bristol, Pa., 301, 345. 
 Brit, Old, 190,231,237,248, 
 
 272, 307. 
 British Minister, 134. 
 Broad street, Newport, 43. 
 Brown, Corporal, 175. 
 Brown, Cracker, 161. 
 Brown, Deacon, 118. 
 Brown, Ducky, 359. 
 Brown, Gov. George, 208, 320. 
 Brown, Misses, 315. 
 Bro-wTi, Mr., 171, 179, 281, 
 
 323. 
 Brown, Nick, 381. 
 BroAvn, Rowland, 323. 
 Brown, Sally, 119. 
 Brown, Tim, 230. 
 BroAvn, Widow, 20, 201 . 
 Brown's Brook, 356. 
 Buffum, David, 45, 262. 
 Buffum, Bishop David, 262. 
 Buffum, Thomas, 262. 
 Bullock, John, 199. 
 Bumside, Senator, 106. 
 Byron, 25, 123. 
 
 C^SAR, 179. 
 
 Caesar, Julius, 219. 
 
 C 41 
 
 Caesar's Plain, 179. 
 
 Canonchet, 154, 176. 
 
 Canton, 184. 
 
 Carpenter, Ann, 42. 
 
 Carpenter, Rodman, 349. 
 
 Carr, Green, 262, 266. 
 
 Carter, Bill, 333. 
 
 Carter, William, 179. 
 
 Carter's gibbet, 315. 
 
 Case, Jim, 301 . 
 
 Case, Squire, 301. 
 
 Cat Inspector, 285,295. 
 
 Cervantes, 112. 
 
 Chambo, Old, 363 (vide Ro- 
 
 chambeau, 92), 
 Champlin house, 324. 
 Champlin, Kit, 311. 
 Champlin, Squire, 119. 
 Champlin, Stephen, 169, 183, 
 
 313. 
 Champlin, Thomas, 183. 
 Chandler,Wm. H.,283. 
 CharlestoAvn, 58, 185, 311, 
 
 321, 340, 342. 
 Charlestown tribe, 342. 
 Chase, Constant, 103. 
 Chase, Herbert, 103. 
 Chase, Isaac, 90, 103. 
 Chase, Stephen A., 304. 
 Chausan, Capt. Green, 90. 
 Chesapeake Bay, 38, 77. 
 Chimney Hill, 180. 
 Chipuxet river, 1 1 8, 1 79. 
 Cincinnati, 55. 
 Clam town, 37. 
 Clark, 15 5. 
 Clark, Judge, 165. 
 Clarke, John, 271. 
 
 4 ] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Clarke, Lewis, 64, 65, 69. 
 
 Clarke, Lewis Latham, 64, 185 
 
 Clark's mill, 21. 
 
 Clinton, General, 101. 
 
 Clytus, 179. 
 
 Coates, Saunders, 77, 1 53. 
 
 Cochituate, 307. 
 
 Cockermouth ,125. 
 
 Columbia Corner, 344. 
 
 Comstock, Charles, 137, 152, 
 157, 183, 186, 194, 228, 
 237, 241, 245, 248, 252, 
 256, 266, 284, 289, 293. 
 
 Comstock, Christopher, 158. 
 
 Conanicut, 133, 138,269,335 
 
 Conanicut Ferry, 383. 
 
 Congdon, George, 274. 
 
 Congdon, Joseph, 274. 
 
 Connecticut, 94, 146, 175. 
 
 Conner, Capt., 275. 
 
 Continental Congress, 99. 
 
 Cook (the hatter) , 112,158, 
 183,194,257,259,289. 
 
 Cook, Col., 294, 296. 
 
 Coon's mill, 19, 172. 
 
 Corey, Dick, 249, 343. 
 
 Cork, John, 312, 318. 
 
 Corn biscuit, 6 1 . 
 
 Cottrell, Abel, 112. 
 
 Cove, Old, 31,38. 
 
 Coy, Samuel, 160. 
 
 Croesus, 146. 
 
 Crooked Brook, 356. 
 
 Crumb, Timothy, 119. 
 
 Crutch, William, 43. 
 
 Cuba, 186. 
 
 Cubit hill, 229. 
 
 Cupid hill, 229. 
 
 Curtis' comer, 146. 
 . Cussum, Rev. Dr. ,101. 
 
 Danielson, 198. 
 
 Dealing, 1 79. 
 
 Delaware river, 301. 
 
 Democritus, 113. 
 
 Dennison, Consul, 265. 
 
 Devil's Ring, 250. 
 
 Dexter, Lord Timothy, 186. 
 
 Dickens, Mr., 330. 
 
 Dixon, Nathan F., 144, 162. 
 
 Dobbs, Mary, 170. 
 
 Dockray Common, John, 237. 
 
 Dockray corner, 230. 
 
 Dockray, John, 64, 230, 293. 
 
 Dockray, John Bigelow, 230, 
 
 298. 
 Dodge, Mr., 326. 
 Dorothy, Aunt, 15 5. 
 Dorothy's Hollow, 155. 
 Douglass, George, 291. 
 Douglass, Stephen, 293. 
 Duke street, Newport, 269. 
 Dunlap, Count (or Baron) ,341. 
 Dunn, Dr., 357. 
 Durfee, 113. 
 Dyer's run, Mrs. 300. 
 Dyre,Col., 361. 
 
 East Greenwich, 35, 93, 254, 
 
 276. 
 East Grinnage, 42, 272, 279, 
 
 281, 315. 
 East Indies, 183. 
 Eden, Garden of, 89, 104. 
 Elam, Samuel, 209,211. 
 Ellery, William, 92. 
 
 415 3 
 
INDEX 
 
 Enfield, Conn., 80. 
 England, 26, 125. 
 Esther, Queen, 2 1 7, 342. 
 Euphrates, 89, 104. 
 Exeter, 113. 
 
 Fall River, Mass., 326. 
 Falstaff, Jack, 38, 64. 
 Fayette, Markis, 363. 
 Feke, Charley, 267. 
 Fenner, Governor, 1 15, 275, 
 
 298. 
 Fenner, Gov. Aithur, 298. 
 Fenner, Gov. (2nd), 274, 
 Ferrisburg, Vt. , 353. 
 Feriy wharf, Newport, 21,41, 
 
 137,259,266. 
 Fielding, 112. 
 Fish, 353. 
 
 Fishback, Capt., 185. 
 Flat-iron, 29. 
 Flat Rock, 312,372. 
 Foddering Place, 345. 
 Forbes Co., Boston, 198, 
 
 222. 
 Fort Ticonderoga, 341. 
 Foster, Mr., 321. 
 Four Comers, 165. 
 Fox, George, 4 1 . 
 Frank, 133. 
 Franklin, Ben, 15 6, 181,234, 
 
 239, 301. 
 Franklin's Ferry, 135, 383. 
 Fmyer, Capt. ,319. 
 Freehold, 101. 
 French, Cyrus, 1 12, 140. 
 French, Mr., 294. 
 French, Squire, 291. 
 
 i 41 
 
 French, William, 140, 158, 
 
 347. 
 Friar, Quaker, 64, 69, 185. 
 
 Gaxo, Master, 322, 323. 
 Gardiner, Bill, 218. 
 Gaixiiner, Bristor, 349. 
 Gaixiiner, Col. ,315. 
 Gaixiiner,EIisha, 1 12,1 15,265, 
 
 269,293. 
 Gardiner, Ezekiel, 134. 
 Gardiner, Nuree, 54. 
 Gaixiiner, Paris, 232, 248. 
 Gardiner, Peleg, 64, 134. 
 Gaixiiner, Squire, 291. 
 Gaixiner, Sheriff, 117. 
 Garner, 'Lisha, 138, 152, 158, 
 
 183, 195,252, 256,258. 
 Gamer, Paris, 249, 25 1 . 
 Gavitt, Daniel, 241. 
 Gavitt-town, 241. 
 Genesee, 121. 
 Genesee run, 253. 
 Genesee swamp, 248, 256. 
 Genesee woods, 248. 
 George (son of Queen Esther) , 
 
 342. 
 George, King, 342. 
 Georgia, 170, 178. 
 Goddard , Thomas, 353. 
 Gooseberry Island, 180, 254. 
 Gould, Adam, 252, 256, 295. 
 Gould, Artemus, 25 1 , 325. 
 Gould, John. 231. 
 Gould, Miss, 231. 
 Gould, Tom, 218. 
 Grafton, Mass., 141. 
 Gi-ant, 62. 
 
 6] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Gravelly Point, 326. 
 
 Gray, Billy, 183, 186, 194, 
 
 256. 
 Great Pond, 245,253. 
 Greene, Gen. Albert C, 280. 
 Greene, Gen. Nathanael, 35, 
 
 101. 
 Greene, Stephen, 1 60. 
 Greenman, Mrs. Silas, 319. 
 Grenman, Gid, 231. 
 Grennold, Jim, 314. 
 Grennold,Mr., 325. 
 Grinage flats, 37. 
 Grinnage, 37,111, 161, 183, 
 
 272,277,281, 373. 
 Grinnager, 35, 37, 40, 45, 72, 
 
 161, 202. 
 Grinnold,Sal, 278. 
 Griswold , Tom ,58. 
 Guinea, 18, 59, 83, 85, 307. 
 Guinea, Old, 228. 
 Gulf Stream, 49, 72, 89, 102, 
 
 202,212,275, 374. 
 
 Hadwen, Benjamin, 77. 
 Hagadorn, John, 158,161,163, 
 
 182. 
 Hammond, Capt., 170. 
 Hammond's Mill, 18, 21, 23, 
 
 161. 
 Hardscrabble, 190, 215, 232, 
 
 237, 245,248. 
 Hartford, Conn. ,121. 
 Have Nothings, 79. 
 Have Somethings, 79. 
 Hazard, 89. 
 Hazard, Anna, 107. 
 Hazard, Benjamin, 149. 
 
 I* 
 
 Hazaixi, Carder, 345. 
 
 Hazard, Edward, 230. 
 
 Hazard, Ephe, 66. 
 
 Hazard, George, 167, 352. 
 
 Hazai-d, Gust, 80. 
 
 Hazard, Isaae, 259, 274, 277, 
 301,341,359. 
 
 Hazard , Jeffrey ,169. 
 
 Hazard, John, 165. 
 
 Hazard, Jonathan J., 100, 203. 
 
 Hazai-d, Jonathan N., 247, 307, 
 333. 
 
 Hazard,JosephP.,76,80, 1 18, 
 180,304,306,308,318,321, 
 326, 332, 335, 337, 341, 
 343, 348, 356, 358, 360, 
 372. 
 
 Hazard, Miss, 133. 
 
 Hazard, Mr., 341. 
 
 Hazard, Molly, 342, 364, 356. 
 
 Hazard, Nailer Tom, 189,251 
 {see Hazard, Thomas B.). 
 
 Hazard, Ned, 230,298. 
 
 Hazard , Pistol-head Tom ,189. 
 
 Hazard, Robert, 337, 352. 
 
 Hazard, Rowland,64, 159, 169, 
 304, 321,341. 
 
 Hazard, Rowland (nephew), 
 305. 
 
 Hazard, Dr. R.R., 77. 
 
 Hazard, Shepherd Tom, 90, 
 148, 156, 189, 217, 244, 
 246, 249, 270, 283, 302, 
 307, 317, 322, 324, 331, 
 362, 387 {see also Hazard, 
 Thomas R.). 
 
 Hazard, Sim, 173. 
 
 Hazard, Simeon, 167. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Hazard, Simeon, Jr. ,167. 
 Hazard, Sylvester, 164, 290, 
 
 294. 
 Hazard, Sylvester R., 77. 
 Hazard , Thomas ,271. 
 Hazard, Thomas B. (Nailer 
 
 Tom), 170,251, 324, 346, 
 
 351. 
 Hazard, Thomas B., Jr., 
 
 35 1 . 
 Hazard, Thomas G., 338. 
 Hazard, Thomas H., 17 . 
 Hazard, Thomas R., 31, 203, 
 
 219,221,228,246,268 (see 
 
 Hazard, Shepherd Tom). 
 Hazard, Tom, 189. 
 Hazard's Castle, 304, 338. 
 Helme, James, 131, 165,290, 
 
 293. 
 Helme, James, Jr. , 2 9 5 . 
 Helme, J. P., 112. 
 Helme, Judge, 132. 
 Helme, Samuel, 131. 
 Hill pasture, 155. 
 Hill ponds, 351. 
 Hills, The, 245. 
 Hindoostan, 170. 
 Hoag, Joseph, 353. 
 Hogarth, 47, 327. 
 Holburton, Harry, 253. 
 Holburton's mill, 253. 
 Holden, Sammy, 367. 
 Holden, the Odd, 370. 
 Holland, 142. 
 Homer, 25, 123. 
 Hopkins, Dr., 92. 
 Hopkins, Parson, 92. 
 Hopkins rock, 340. 
 
 C 41 
 
 Hopkinton, 171, 347. 
 Hopkinton City, 158, 258. 
 H 'Oswald, Richard, 234. 
 Howard, Gov., 199,204, 221, 
 
 224. 
 Howard, ex-Gov. Henry, 
 
 198. 
 Howard, ex-Gov,, 283. 
 Howard street, Newport, 169. 
 Howe, Lord, 99, 101. 
 Howell, Judge, 1 62. 
 Huckleberry, 1 02 . 
 Hudson river, 269. 
 Hull, Benjamin, 145. 
 Hull, Miss, 181. 
 Hull, Mr., 307. 
 Humber river, 26. 
 Hunter, William, 134, 260. 
 Hyperion, 68, 15 7. 
 
 Indian com, 58. 
 Indian no-cake, 57. 
 Indian Rock, 373. 
 Indian Run, 352, 356. 
 
 Jackson, 179, 315. 
 
 Jackson, President, 325. 
 
 Jamaica, 185. 
 
 Jay, John, 234. 
 
 Jeffers, 248. 
 
 Jefferson, Thomas, 233, 236, 
 
 302. 
 Jenkins, Anne Almy, 43. 
 Jim, 155. 
 Job, 47. 
 Joe, 174, 176. 
 Jonah, 135. 
 Jonny Cake 18, 28, 40. 
 
 8 ] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Kelley, 170. 
 Kelly, Master, 65, 322. 
 Kent county, 35,272,315. 
 Kenyon, Gardiner, 334. 
 Kenyon, Squire, 313. 
 Kenyon, William, 342. 
 Key, Mr., 200, 283. 
 Key, Postmaster-Gen., 228. 
 Kidd, Captain, 25 1 , 324. 
 Kidd, Robert (Wm.?), 325. 
 Kings county, 202, 2 54. 
 Kingston, 112, 11-9, 159, 182, 
 
 324, 347. 
 Kingston Hill, 138. 
 Kingston village, 327. 
 Kingstown, Jamaica, 186. 
 King Tom, 34 1 . 
 Kit's pond, 345. 
 Knowles, 198. 
 Knowles, Hazard, 335, 360. 
 Knowles, Jim, 121, 242. 
 Knowles, Robert, 361. 
 
 L.,Mr., 104. 
 Lafayette, Marquis, 9 1 . 
 Lamming, John, 164. 
 Lamphear, 321. 
 Larkin, Mr.,329. 
 Laurens, Henry, 234. 
 Lawton's Valley, 271. 
 Lebanon, Conn., 32, 100. 
 Lee, Gen., 101, 130. 
 Lewis, Enoch, 344. 
 Lewis, Smith, 314. 
 Liebig, 159. 
 
 Liestrong, Capt., 183, 186. 
 Lightfoot, Judge, 364. 
 •Lind, Jenny, 83. 
 
 Lipton, 178. 
 
 Little Neck, 340,358. 
 
 Little Neck farm, 77^ 360. 
 
 Little Neck Tom, 77. 
 
 Little Rest, 111,112,115,131, 
 133,135,138,140,143,145, 
 149,158,160,163,169,172, 
 178,182,195,206,230,232, 
 237,241,249,252,257,269, 
 272,287, 293, 313, 320. 
 
 Little Rest Hill, 65, 1 14, 150. 
 
 London, 42, 91, 138, 184. 
 
 Longfellow, 123. 
 
 Long Island, 78. 
 
 Long Island Sound, 319. 
 
 Long Wharf, 263. 
 
 Louis XV, 65, 185. 
 
 Lunt, Major, 130, 293. 
 
 Lunt, William, 117. 
 
 Lyman, 327. 
 
 JVIarlboro street, Newport, 
 
 269. 
 MacSparran, Dr., 226. 
 Margaret,40, 69, 110,260,306, 
 
 365, 382. 
 Mary Magdalene, 48. 
 Mason and Dixon's Line, 52. 
 Mather, Cotton, 212. 
 Matoonak, 343. 
 Matooneck, 181, 
 Matoonek, 229, 293. 
 Mauney, 338. 
 Mayberry, Free, 263, 266. 
 Mercer, Dr., 105. 
 Methuselah, 47. 
 Middletown,N.J.,170. 
 Mill, OldForge,35,37,40, 161. 
 
 C 419 ] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Mill street, Newport, 269. 
 Ministerial woods, 161, 245. 
 Minturn, 321. 
 Money, Mr., 276. 
 Monmouth, 130. 
 Monmouth county, 101. 
 Mose, 83, 379, 381. 
 Moses, 85. 
 Mont Blanc, 42. 
 Mount, Samuel, 170. 
 Mount, Thomas, 169, 172, 178, 
 
 182. 
 Muffins, 109. 
 
 Mumford, Benjamin, 226. 
 Mumford,Nat, 154. 
 Mumford's Mill, 19, 21, 161, 
 
 179, 
 Mumfoixl, Miss, 154. 
 Mumford, Mrs. Hannah, 226. 
 Muscovado sugar, 53. 
 
 NANTUCaCET, 289. 
 
 Naples, 193. 
 
 Narragansett, 20,25,57,65,71, 
 76, 79, 82, 85, 88, 91, 95, 
 122,134,140,152,156, 160, 
 170,175,185,189,203,205, 
 224,246,264,300,307,315, 
 332, 336, 339, 341, 343. 
 
 Narragansett Bay, 38, 45, 319, 
 337, 358. 
 
 Narragansett Co., 111. 
 
 Narragansett Indians, 58, 217, 
 254,338. 
 
 Narragansett Pier, 32, 78, 176, 
 304, 307, 359. 
 
 NarragansettPierRailroad ,248. 
 
 Narrow Cove, 254. 
 
 Narrow river, 77^ 208, 304, 
 
 315, 340, 359. 
 Nash, Mrs., 180. 
 Nash, Widow, 180. 
 New Bedford, Mass., 149, 248, 
 
 350. 
 Newberry, Jim, 347. 
 New Brunswick, 101 . 
 Newell, William?., 144, 149. 
 New England, 50, 58. 
 New Guinea, 195. 
 New Haven, Conn., 17. 
 New Light Church, 172, 190. 
 New London, Conn., 98, 289, 
 
 293, 363. 
 New London Co., Conn., 98, 
 
 203. 
 New Orleans, 105. 
 Newport,20,32,42, 71, 77,90, 
 
 93, 103, 110, 134, 137,140, 
 
 149,167,211,257,259,262, 
 
 271, 273,307,325,357. 
 Newport Mercury, 322. 
 Newton, 201. 
 New York, 42, 55,71,74,91, 
 
 101,170,178,185,191,204, 
 
 305. 
 Nichols, Benny, 361. 
 Nichols, John, 160. 
 Nichols, John T., 143. 
 Nichols, Miss, 301. 
 Nicobar, 186. 
 Nicobar, Great, 184. 
 Nicobar Islands, 183. 
 Niles House, 324. 
 Niles, Major Jeremy, 156. 
 Niles, Mr., 324. 
 Noah's ark, 59. 
 
 [ 420 ] 
 
INDEX 
 
 No-cake, 58. 
 Noka, John, 338. 
 Nooseneck Hill, 279. 
 North Carolina, 180. 
 North Kingston, 161. 
 North Kingstown, 202, 366. 
 North Narragansett Pier pond, 
 
 17. 
 North Pier, 77, 372. 
 North Scituate, 283. 
 Northup, Elder, 120, 172, 177. 
 Northup, S., 321. 
 Notre Dame, 79. 
 Nova Scotia, 178. 
 Noyes, Robert, 300. 
 
 O'Brien, Patrick, 207. 
 Old Kingston road, 341. 
 
 Jtarade, The, 42. 
 
 Parade street, Newport, 263. 
 
 Paris, 42, 79, 234, 265. 
 
 Patrick, 46. 
 
 Patten, Wm. S.,23. 
 
 Patten, Mrs. Wm. S., 23. 
 
 Pawcatuck Bridge, 144, 162, 
 
 181. 
 Pawcatuck river, 253. 
 Peace Dale, 20, 81, 154, 169, 
 
 188, 190, 201, 250, 314, 
 
 324, 326, 328, 343, 346, 
 
 356,359,361. 
 Peace Dale mills, 328. 
 Peckham, Nathaniel C, 142. 
 Peckham, Hon. Nathaniel, 1 72 . 
 Peckham, Timothy, 142. 
 Peckham, Quaker William, 
 
 229. 
 
 C 42 
 
 Peckham, William, Jr., 229. 
 
 Pedler, 82. 
 
 Peggy, 123. 
 
 Pennsylvania, 98. 
 
 Pentateuch, 85. 
 
 Perry, Chas. Grant, 357. 
 
 Perry, Christopher Raymond, 
 
 301. 
 Perry, Commodore, 264, 343. 
 Perry, Commodore Oliver H., 
 
 229,301, 320. 
 Perry, Hazard, 229. 
 Perry, John, 320. 
 Perry, John (Town Clerk), 
 
 320. 
 Perry, Rit, 156. 
 Perry, Robinson, 320. 
 Persian Gulf, 89. 
 Pettaquamscutt, 25,315,321, 
 
 341. 
 Pettaquamscutt Cove, 154,180, 
 
 254, 358. 
 Pettaquamscutt pond, 18. 
 Pettaquamscutt river, 7&^ 180, 
 
 208,226, 315, 341, 358. 
 Philadelphia, 55, 99, 101, 146, 
 
 153, 156,170,214. 
 Phillips, Capt., 93. 
 Phillips, Jim, 359, 379. 
 Phillis, 18,83,216. 
 Phisic,Dr.,2]4. 
 Pickerel Point, 356. 
 Pint Judy, 59, 156, 231, 274, 
 
 373, 378. 
 Pint Judy Pint, 306, 376. 
 Point Judith, 77., 305, 313, 
 
 319, 323, 334, 337, 345, 
 
 356, 358, 360, 364. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Point Judith Road, 360. 
 Point Judith salt pond, 142. 
 Point, The, Newport, 180,263, 
 
 303, 352. 
 Pollock, Wilson, 194. 
 Pomfret, Conn., 174. 
 Pomp, 60, 62, 67, 83, 351. 
 Porridge, 55. 
 Portorique molasses, 53. 
 Portsmouth, 41, 43, 89, 91 ,271, 
 
 283. 
 Portsmouth Grove, 44. 
 Post Road, 239, 301, 
 Potowomut, 35. 
 Potter, Asa, 158. 
 Potter, Elisha, 293. 
 Potter, ElishaR., 82, 140, 149, 
 
 153, 158, 298, 326, 338. 
 Potter, Eliza, 158. 
 Potter, E.R., 112, 114. 
 Potter, James, 338. 
 Potter, James M . B . , 1 4 9 . 
 Potter, John, 289. 
 Potter, Gov. John, 241,310. 
 Potter, Joseph, 171. 
 Potter, Judge, 133, 149. 
 Potter, Julia, 158. 
 Potter, Kit, 89. 
 Potter, Maria, 158. 
 Potter, Squire, 207, 299. 
 Potter, Thomas, 340. 
 Potter, Dr. Thomas, 149. 
 Potter, Tom, 113, 145. 
 Potter, Judge Wm. , 161, 182. 
 Potter, Lawyer William, 149. 
 Potter's Hill, 138. 
 Potter's pond, 310. 
 Prescott, Capt.,341. 
 
 r 42 
 
 Providence, 24, 1 11, 140, 159, 
 171,179,224,230,271,277, 
 315, 327. 
 
 Providence river, 3 8 . 
 
 Quaker Bishop (Buffum, 
 
 David), 45. 
 Quaker Hill, 43. 
 Queen Anne, 138. 
 Queen Esther, 342. 
 Quincy, Josiah, 306. 
 Quincy, Judith, 307. 
 
 Ram Island, 345. 
 Randolph, Kidder, 357. 
 Red Bank, 341. 
 Reynolds, Joe, 138, 140, 142, 
 
 289, 292. 
 Reynolds, John, 140. 
 Rhinebeck, N.Y., 158. 
 Rhineinjun bread, 213. 
 R. I. greening, 90, 173, 
 
 202. 
 R. I. Historical Society, 23, 
 
 169. 
 R. I. Jonny-cake, 199. 
 Rice pudding, 108. 
 Richmond, 311. 
 R. I. turkey, 72. 
 Ridge, Master, 65, 322. 
 Robbins, Hon. Asher, 206. 
 Robinson, Amy, 358. 
 Robinson, Atmore, 153. 
 Robinson, Ben, 154. 
 Robinson, Christopher, 308, 
 
 313, 345. 
 Robinson, Edward, 153. 
 Robinson, Hannah, 322. 
 
 2 ] 
 
Robinson, James, 153,156,322, 
 
 378. 
 Robinson, Mrs. James, 323. 
 Robinson, John, 64, 307. 
 Robinson, Kit, 15 5, 231. 
 Robinson, Prince, 117. 
 Robinson, Rowland, 9 1 . 
 Robinson, Sally, 261. 
 Robinson, Sci, 261 . 
 Robinson, Sylvester, 175, 294, 
 
 308, 342, 364. 
 Robinson, Mre. Sylvester, 176. 
 Robinson, Thomas, 261, 352, 
 
 358. 
 Robinson, Gov. Wm., 307, 372. 
 Robinson, Gov. Wm. R., 342. 
 Robinson, William, 153. 
 Robinson's wharf, 352. 
 Rochambeau, Count, 92. 
 Rochester, 179. 
 Rocky Brook, T7 ^ 143, 153, 
 
 188,249, 356. 
 Rodman, Benny, 20, 15 7, 201, 
 
 250. 
 Rodman, Capt. Bill, 141 . 
 Rodman, Clarke, 167, 262. 
 Rodman, Sam, 153. 
 Rodman, Tom, 242, 245. 
 Rodman House, 349. 
 Rodman's Mill, 154,201. 
 Romain, Parson, 239. 
 Rome, 193. 
 Rotch, Benjamin, 350. 
 Rotch, Wm. B.,350. 
 Runnells, Joe, 140, 142, 149, 
 
 157,164,182,195,197,252, 
 
 257. 
 Rush, Dr., 146,214. 
 
 INDEX 
 
 St. Peter's, Rome, 42. 
 
 Saddle Rock, N.Y., 38. 
 
 Sal, 218. 
 
 Salem, 161. 
 
 Salt Pond, 76, 310, 350, 356, 
 
 375. 
 Sam, 84, 156, 207. 
 Samp, 57. 
 
 Sanborn, John H., 322. 
 Sancho Panza, 38, 79. 
 Sandy Hook, 101. 
 Sangrado,Dr., 144, 243. 
 Satyr, 68, 157. 
 Saucatucket, 24, 157. 
 Saucatucket river, 356. 
 Saunders, Capt. JohnH., 326. 
 Schooner, Sally, 172. 
 Scip, 62, 68, 83. 
 Schuylkill, 99. 
 Scott, 112. 
 Scribbins, 2 6, 238. 
 Sea Side, 77,304, 372. 
 Sea Side farm, 304, 318, 338, 
 
 372. 
 Senegambia, 18. 
 Seine, 79. 
 Shakespeare, 134. 
 Shakespeare, Will, 236,363. 
 Shaw, Friend, 43. 
 Shaw, Jim, 263, 266. 
 Shays Rebellion, 141. 
 Shelter Island, 274. 
 Shepherd Tom (Hazard), 90, 
 
 199. 
 Sherman, James, 202, 34 1 . 
 Sherman, Job, 42. 
 Sherman, John, 341 . 
 Sherman, Pedro, 189. 
 
 C 423 ] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Sherman, Robert, 138. 
 
 Sherman & To\vn, 366. 
 
 Shermantovvn, 202. 
 
 Shrewsbury, 38. 
 
 Silver Lake, 345. 
 
 Slaughter, Master, 65. 
 
 Slauter, Master, 322. 
 
 Slocum's comer, 179. 
 
 Smith, Jim, 254. 
 
 Smith, John, 333. 
 
 Smith, Sol, 56. 
 
 Smollett, 112. 
 
 Snuff mill-pond, 346. 
 
 Solon, 286. 
 
 Sot's Hole, 245. 
 
 South County, 37, 117, 132, 
 
 146, 153,202,215. 
 South Co. Agric. Society, 159. 
 South Ferry, 41,134,138, 157, 
 
 159,181,301,337. 
 South Pier, 340, 372, 378. 
 South Pole, 15 7. 
 South Portsmouth, 200, 228. 
 Sprague estate. Gov., 1 76, 322. 
 Sprague Folly, Gov., 364. 
 Sprague, Mrs. Kate Chase, 
 
 154. 
 Stang, Admirable, 363. 
 Stanton, William, 171. 
 Stanton, Mrs. Wm., 172. 
 Staunton, Lodowick, 185. 
 Steadman, Asa, 333. 
 Stedlar, Mr., 52. 
 Stedlar, Mrs., 53. 
 Stedman, Asa, 15 6. 
 Steele, 138. 
 Stewart, 204. 
 Stonington, Conn. , 171, 179. 
 
 Storer, Benjamin, 114, 130, 
 
 165. 
 Storer, Hannah, 115, 118. 
 Stover, Old, 161. 
 Stuart, Gilbert, 18, 22 6, 321, 
 
 346. 
 Stuart, Jane, 225. 
 Styles, Rev. Ezra, 92. 
 Sugar Loaf Hill, 230, 298. 
 Sukarata, Queen, 184. 
 Suke, 218. 
 Sweet, Job, 230. 
 Sweet, Job, Jr., 230. 
 Sweet, Jonathan, 230. 
 Sweet, William, 230. 
 Sweet family, 334. 
 Sykes, Jim, 129. 
 Symmes' Hole, 157. 
 Syms, Jim, 256. 
 
 i AiXMAN sweetings, 73,91. 
 Tarrant, Col., 357. 
 Taylor, John N., 138. 
 Taylor, Philip, 138. 
 Taylor, Thomas S., 158, 249. 
 Tefft, Jim, 333. 
 Tefft's Hill, 248,251. 
 Thames street, 41, 265, 269. 
 Themillboy, 59. 
 Thurston, Gov., 158. 
 Tiber, 79. 
 
 Tiemey, Admiral De, 92. 
 Tigris, 89, 104. 
 Titian, 69. 
 Tiverton, 113, 161. 
 Tontine Coffee House, 7 1 . 
 Tory, Sylvia, 161,247. 
 Tory, Cuff, 208. 
 
 [ 424 ] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Totten,Col., 357. 
 Totten, Levi, 161, 162. 
 Totten, Squire Levi, 258. 
 Tower Hill, 20, 43, 89, 95, 
 
 111,131, 145, 155,180, 
 
 188, 201,208, 239, 300, 
 
 315, 323. 
 Tower Hill House, 76, 344. 
 Tower's school, 262. 
 Trinity Church, 42. 
 Truman, 129. 
 Trumbull, Gov. Jonathan, 32, 
 
 100,203. 
 Tucker, Joshua, 246. 
 Tucker, Nathan, 245. 
 Tucker, "William, 193. 
 Tucker family, 334. 
 Tucker's pond, 245. 
 Tuckertown ,245. 
 Turkic, Mr., 164. 
 Turner, Daniel ,264. 
 
 Updike, Daniel E.,93, 254, 
 
 276,315. 
 Updike's Histoi7 of Narragan- 
 
 sett Church, 226. 
 Updike, Hon. Wilkins, 157, 
 
 342. 
 
 Valley Forge, 99, 170, 203. 
 Vaucluse, 89, 103, 200, 211, 
 
 228,283. 
 Vaughn's comer, Newport, 
 
 263. 
 Venice, 69. 
 Virgil, 134. 
 Virginia, 51, 180, 
 Voluntown, 171. 
 
 Wafie, Matthew, 112,115, 
 
 117, 131, 149. 
 Wakefield, 19, 172, 180, 251, 
 
 309,344,349. 
 Walkins, 5 1 . 
 Walton, Isaac, 301 . 
 Ward, Artemus, 325. 
 Warmsley, James, 341. 
 Warner, Mr., 329. 
 Warrick, 37. 
 Warricker, 45. 
 Warwick, 37. 
 Washburne, Elder, 190. 
 Washington, 118, 131. 
 Washington, Gen., 32, 35, 91, 
 
 99, 101, 117,226, 293. 
 Washington, R. I.,97, 100, 
 Washington Square, Newport, 
 
 268. 
 Washington street, 187. 
 Watson, Capt. Guy, 150. 
 Watson, Guy, 341. 
 Watson, John, 319. 
 Watson, John Hazard, 169, 
 
 179,182. 
 Watson, Ned, 208. 
 Watson's Pier, John, 319. 
 Watson's shop, 313. 
 Weeden, Mrs., 360. 
 Wells, Thomas R.,158. 
 West Chester Co., Pa., 199, 
 
 302. 
 Westerly, 144, 181. 
 West Grinnage, 278. 
 Westtown Friends Boarding 
 
 School, 199,302. 
 West Town, Pa., 345. 
 Whaley, Capt. Jeremiah, 78. 
 
 Z 425 ] 
 
INDEX 
 
 Whally, 321. 
 Whitemai-sh, 99. 
 Whitman, Jonathan, 140. 
 Whitpot, 6 1 . 
 Wickford, 37,93,254. 
 Wickham, Mr., 170. 
 Wickham, Suky, 262. 
 Wilcox, 169. 
 Wilcox, Judge, 1 14. 
 Wilcox, Sally, 188. 
 Wilkinson, Jemima, 1 60, 1 82. 
 Willard, 113. 
 Willets, Francis, 322. 
 Williams, Capt., 305. 
 Williams, James, 171. 
 Williams, John, 360. 
 Williams, Roger, 270. 
 
 Williams, Thomas, 360. 
 Williams , Thomas R . , 9 5 , 3 2 6 . 
 Will's Coffee House, 138,363. 
 Wilson, Capt. Bill, 315. 
 Wilson, Jim, 251. 
 Wilson, Miss Jinny, 146. 
 Wilson woods, 249, 343. 
 Windham, Conn. ,361. 
 Wiseman, Willie, 303. 
 Wolf Bog, 346. 
 Worden's pond, 245, 253. 
 
 1 AWGOO, 327. 
 Yorker, 327. 
 Yorktown, 101. 
 
 Zachary's bridge, 254. 
 
 [ 426 3 
 
List of Subscribers 
 
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