Lore of an Adirondack County 9781501723650

Table of contents :
Introduction
Contents
An Essex County Family
The Wild Woods
Anecdotes and Tall Tales
Hidden Treasure
Weather-Lore
Proverbial Sayings
How Do You Play It?
The Supernatural
Ballads and Songs
Index

Citation preview

Lore of an Adirondack County

Fall Creek Books is an imprint of Cornell University Press dedicated to making available again classic books that document the history, culture, natural history, and folkways of New York State. Presented in new paperback editions that faithfully reproduce the contents of the original editions, Fall Creek Books titles will appeal to all readers interested in New York and the state’s rich past. For a complete listing of titles published under the Fall Creek Books imprint, please visit www.cornellpress.cornell.edu.

Lor e of an AdiroNdACk CoU NtY g edith e. CUttiNg

fall creek books an imprint of

CorNeLL UNiverSitY PreSS ithaca and london

Copyright © 1944 by Cornell University Copyright assigned to edith e. Cutting, 1971 reprinted with permission

All rights reserved. except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, Sage house, 512 east State Street, ithaca, New York 14850.

First printing, Cornell University Press, January 1944 First printing, Fall Creek Books, 2010

Printed in the United States of America

TO MY FOLKS

Introduction The title of the present Series, which an Essex County farmer might describe as "longer'n the moral law", is justified by the versatility of the scholar in whose honor it is established. Divisions of American Civilization, marking both the distrust of narrow specialization and the flowering of Science in Philosophy, are still regarded as innovations in American universities; but Moses Coit Tyler (1835-1900) was himself such a Division, teres atque rotundus. His first professorship, at the University of Michigan (1867), was in Rhetoric and English Literature. He was a founder of the American Historical Association (1884) and a charter member of the American Folklore Society (1888). In 1881, President Andrew D. White created for him at Cornell what educational historians have called the first professorship of American History. His most important book- written at Cornell, issued in two volumes in 1897, and recently republished- is The Literary History of the American Revolution (1763-17 83 ), a permanent achievement of scientific and philosophical scholarship. Scarcely less valuable is an earlier study, published three years before his appointment at Cornell, A History of American Literature during the Colonial Time, 16071765. A lover of new things as well as of the storied past, he tossed up his mortarboard for such varied causes as temperance, abolition, women's rights, and "musical gymnastics". Professor Tyler's life further illustrates the progress of the pioneering Yankee from Connecticut to Michigan, the backtrailing to "York State", the sincere affection for all three regions- which are important, recurrent facts in the history of Cornell and in the intellectual life of America. Born in Connecticut, he graduated in 1857 from Yale, four years after President White had taken his first degree there; but he had attended the public schools of Detroit and had begun his undergraduate studies at the University of Michigan. His philosophical mind finding its first home in Theology, in 1859 he was ordained in the Congregational ministry at Owego, New York, about thirty miles south of the university town, Ithaca, where this "genial, humorous, quicktempered, ever-active man" was to die forty-one years later. If in 1943 he were alive in body, he would approve the emphasis upon regional history and lore now a feature of Cornell's teaching in the departments of History, English, and Drama, and in the College of Agriculture. He would be gratified to know that this new Series is financed by a bequest from the estate of his son-in-law, the late Librarian of the University and member of the class of 1891, Willard Austen, whose

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INTRODUCTION

generosity is augmented for this first volume by an anonymous friend of Cornell. A great teacher would also be glad to know that this modest ·series is to be written not by scholars of established fame but by students from any of Cornell's graduate or undergraduate schools. Miss Edith E. Cutting, for example, who began her collection of folklore while an undergraduate at the New York State College for Teachers at Albany, is now a candidate for the Cornell Master's degree; but LaTe of an Adirondack County, written in 1942, is not an academic dissertation. She is so representative a "Yorker" that the editors have asked her to write the account of "An Essex County Family" which the gayer type of reader may wish to read last. Folklorists may miss that "remorseless and protracted accuracy" of footnoting deplored (and practiced) by Sir Walter Scott, that valuable, scientific comparison of variants and classification of motifs to which, if space had permitted, Miss Cutting might have devoted many pages. Folklorists and all other lovers of American tradition will be grateful, however, that while materials were still abundant a loyal daughter of the "uph'isted" County of Essex was able to write this fresh account of how a single family of Adirondack folk, aided by willing neighbors, "yarned" and sang in the hills aboye Lake Champlain, where "Time has fallen asleep in the afternoon sunshine". -H.W.T. July 4, 1943

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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An Essex County Family. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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The Wild Woods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Anecdotes and Tall Tales . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Hidden Treasure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Weather-Lore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Proverbial Sayings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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How Do You Play It? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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The Supernatural . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Ballads and Songs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Index.....................................................

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Lore of an Adirondack County An Essex County Family My family lives in the Adirondacks, a section of New York State that has been favorable to the preservation of folklore. With a common background in England and America for life in a small community, we have kept alive many old tales, songs, sayings, and superstitions, which have always had a sort of fascination for us even though, when quoting some belief, we often qualified it with the remark, "Of course, I don't believe that sort of thing." In fact, we did not realize how many of these literary antiques we knew until we began setting them down on paper. We are sorry only that we did not begin to write them out years ago, for many first lines, titles, or a bar or two of old tunes have been recalled when all the rest was forgotten. My great-grandmother and great-grandfather on my father's side came from England in sailing ships and met for the first time in Montreal. Soon after being married, they drifted down to Albany, where for a while they had a market-garden. Here their first children were born. After moving several times, they finally settled in a little log house in the hills, about five miles from where I am now living. They had a large family, four of whom are still alive. Uncle Jack and Uncle Kell, who are respectively John and Clarence Cutting, 80 and 78 years old, live together in a house less than a mile from the site of the old log-house, while Uncle George, who is 92 years old, lives in Lewis, spending part of the year with his son and part with his daughter. My grandfather, Charles, married Cora Bartlett, bringing a Scottish strain into the family. Now, 85 years old, he is still managing a farm in Westport, All the uncles, my grandfather, and my 01Arn father have worked in the lumber-woods, and they are all living on farms now. (The memories, though not these men, are still living in 1972.) Mother's family came from England two generations before my father's people; that is, in the late eighteenth or early nineteenth century. My great-great-grandfather, Steven White, married a Dutch lady who had run away from home and come to the colonies. This gives us a strain of Dutch, though I have not been able to find any Dutch lore. Another great-great-grandfather, Lewis Bliss, was a Quaker. A little of the Quaker philosophy and lore has come down to us. His wife, Eunice Bliss, was a spinner and weaver. She had two looms, 'lnd at one time had in her house two thousand yards of cloth. Their son, John, was a charcoal-burner. My grandmother's uncle, Edward Dean, was a sailor all his life. He went "to sea" on Lake Champlain when 11

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY

he was thirteen years old, and died on a government light-ship near New Bedford when he was about eighty. For a long time he worked on whaling vessels. Although my grandmother had a model ship that he built and a log of one of his whaling voyages, a few of his weathersayings are all the sea-lore she remembered. He probably thought that the sea chanties were not the thing to sing to his little niece. Harvey White, my grandfather's father, was one of the pioneers in the Adirondacks; it was he who built the first road around the Cascade Lakes. My Grandfather White was a farmer and market-gardener; but, while these were his "mainstay" occupations, he did quite a bit of guiding in the Adirondacks. My immediate family are living on a farm halfway between the villages of Lewis and Elizabethtown. The latter is the "county seat" or shiretown of Essex. Besides members of my family who have contributed songs, stories, and sayings, many friends and neighbors have taken a kindly interest and have been generous with their time and memories. I am Yery grateful to them for the pleasant hours spent in their company, as well as for the songs and stories. Moreover, I particularly appreciate the continued encouragement and practical help given by Dr. Harold W. Thompson, who has aroused the interest of so many people in the lore of their own communities.

The Wild Woods "A shanty-boy leads a wearisome life"so the lumberjacks sang as they sat on the deacon's bench, but in spite of the "wearisome life" they were proud of their strength and their skill with an axe or a canthook. The day's work was long and cold, beginning before dawn and lasting till dark. Wages were agreed on before a man started work, but if he were capable, he might earn more. Often, if he were anxious to "get a stake" during the winter, a good chopper would set himself a "stint". Uncle George told me that his stint was 40 logs a day. One time when he was working in a section where there were bigger trees, he had cut only 12 by noon, but he was determined to cut his 40, "and I did, too, but that afternoon I had to sort the trees considerable." At night the men gathered in the dog-room or dog-house, the common room with bunks around the sides. and a stove in the middle. There they sat on the deacon's bench, a long board in front of the stove, took off their wet socks, and got warm. The loaders were usually in first, followed by the roadmen - road-hogs or road-monkeys -who

THE WILD WOODS

13

guarded the roads, scattering hay or sand to keep them from getting too slippery. The teamsters were usually last, because they had to take care of their horses. There on the deacon's bench the "jacks" told stories and sang songs. When they made up songs, they might all contribute until the song would have uncounted stanzas. If anyone had a mouth-organ or fiddle, everyone that could do so would jig. Sometimes a man drifted into camp, worked a while, and drifted on without anyone's knowing much about him except that he could dance. When he left, he rolled up his clothes in a little bundle or turkey plenty of woolen shirts and socks, but not much else - slung it on a stick, and said, "So long." The shanty-boys' day is outlined in the fragment of a song remembe:r,ed by Mrs. Angeline Drake. She and her first husband, Mr. Bart · Scrif>ture, used to keep the shanty up in the Miller Kiln section on the Keene Road, and consequently heard the songs night after night. The first stanzas, which she could not remember clearly, described getting up in the morning, looking for lost mittens and socks, etc. The choppers and the sawyers Lay the timber low; The swampers and the skidders Haul it to and fro. Then comes the jolly teamster, Just at the break of day; Up he loads his teams; To the river he hastes away. When the noontime came around, The foreman he did scream: "Down with your tools, my boys, And haste to pork and beans. "Hurry up, Ed, And hurry up, Dick or Joe; You take the water-pail And for the water go." And whilst they were a-splashing, The cook for dinner cries. You ought to see them jumping For fear they'd miss their pie.

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY \Vhen supper it is over, To the men's room they do go, And fill up their pipes And smoke till it is blue. At nine o'clock in the evening Unto the bunks they climb, Dreaming of the lonesome hours Working in the pine. When springtime rolls around, How happy we will be; We'll all go down to Hillman's And have a hell of a spree. Our pockets will be empty But our hearts are full of joy. Orlando Beede said he'd back us, So go ahead, my boy. 'Twas in Bob Scripture's shanty This song was sung with glee ...

Lumberjacks could not sing during the day, because their work took too much energy and attention. Still, they were quick to store up a ridiculous anecdote even if it concerned an event only one step from death. This fact is clear in some of the remembered incidents that actually happened in lumber camps. Except for the story of the camp on Whiteface, related by Mr. Charles 'Varren of Elizabethtown, these accounts are from my father, Leon 0. Cutting. One day Freddie was working above the slip. He would grab the log with his canthook as it came down the rollway. Then he and another fellow sawed it three times and sent it down the slip. Finally a spruce log three feet through came along. Freddie grabbed it, but, as it rolled, it swung him right up over it on the end of his canthook. As he hit the ground on the other side, he squirmed back under the log so that it went over him without touching. As he came up on the other side, he put his hand to his head and yelled, "Where the hell is my hat?" Pete and Johnny were sawing and ranking wood in piles 200' x 6'. Johnny had been ranking all morning while Pete

THE WILD WOODS

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sawed, and had built the rank almost to the place where they were sawing. In the afternoon Pete finished that rank while Johnny sawed, but when it was time to start a new one, carrying the wood 200 feet away, he said it was Johnny's turn to pile again. Well, Johnny was so mad he grabbed a canthook and released the key-log. Pete started running with logs rolling right at his heels. He ran to another rank, and, gosh, he went over that just like a chickadee! When he came back, he started the next rank. There was not much fighting in camp, but when the men did have a fight, it was a good one. Will and Steve went at it like wildcats one day. Finally Steve got the worst of it and started to yell, "'Nough! I've had enough!" but Will didn't let up a bit. When the men saw that he wasn't going to quit, one of them yelled out: "Can't you hear that fellow say he's had enough? Why don't you stop?""! can hear him," answered Will, "but he's such a liar you can't believe him." So, he hit him again. Promptness was one thing demanded of the men. Frank was late to meals so many times that the boss finally got sick of it and told him to be on time or get fired. Frank said he usually stopped to finish whatever he was doing. "Well," the boss said, "hereafter, drop whatever you are doing the minute you hear that gong, and get there on time." The next day the boss was helping him carry a big timber across the dam when the gong sounded. Frank dropped the log right there and started on a run for the cook-shack. He was on time, but the boss was a little late because the log had knocked him into the pond. A dare or a bet was sure to lead to something worth talking about. In a camp on Whiteface the :men placed a bet on who would get back to camp first. To win,:Rob got a log into the slip which had ice in the bottom, anci started to ride it down. As soon as he started, he realized he was going too fast; so he tried to catch hold of the crosspieces at the top of the slip. He was .qoing so fast that the crosspieces tore his fingers; his hanhs were crippled for the rest of his life.

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LORE OF A:K ADIRONDACK COUNTY

Besides being able to see humor in the happenings of the day's work, the lumberjacks loved a practical joke like this one: Jim liked to put phosphorus on his face. Sometimes he would !ill his mouth full of kerosene, then light a match and blow a flame clear across the room. One day a man came to camp who had left his wife and children without telling them where he '\"as going. Earlier that fall, a fire had burned over a hill, and often a flame would flash up from the duff. \\'hen the newcomer saw one of these flashes, he told the others that he had a warning and ought to go back to his wife. Later he went down to the barn to look after his horses. \Vhile he was gone, Jim dressed up in a blanket, took a mouthful of kerosene, and went toward the barn. \Vhen the worried husband came out of the stable, Jim lighted a match and blew; it looked as if a ghost were spouting a column of fire ten feet long. The man jumped back into the barn and held the door until the others came to rescue him. He went home the next day. Fire had its place in a practical joke, but it was a persuasive weapon, too. One winter three or four men went over into Nev Hampshire, where they thought they could earn better wages than they could in the woods here. After they had worked a while without getting any money, they asked for some to send back to their families. The bookkeeper laughed at them and said they might have their pay in goods from the company store, but no money. The next morning after everyone else had started for the woods, the men from Essex County came back to the camp and demanded their money. The bookkeeper said they hadn't a chance of getting any, but one of the men replied, "\Ve haYe, or you've got a chance of being burned down." He went to the kerosene barrel and started drawing a pailful while one of the others lighted a match. They got their money and started home. As the boss of a job had a separate cabin where he lived with his wife and children, those children grew up with perhaps more than their share of hard knocks, but certainly with an early-won ability to fight their own battles. At five and seven years of age, Tommy and Freddie were tough as they come.

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While the men were eating dinner one day, Freddie shinned up a tree, a maple with no branches for forty feet up, a brushpile around its roots. He got up all right, but he was afraid to come down. He called for his father to come up and get him, but the boss, weighing about two-hundred-forty pounds, didn't want to go up in front of the men. Finally Tommy said, "I'll get him down, Pa." Up he went, and when he got to Freddie, he hauled off and hit him a bat and knocked him out of the tree. So ... the boys got down all right. As the men got warmed through, and relaxed from the day's work, they might tell taller stories, or someone might haul out his mouthorgan or fiddle. Often someone would start a song. When the men sang or recited poems, The Lumberman's Alphabet and The Shanty-Boy Song were favorites in Essex County, as they have been wherever there has been lumbering. These are too familiar to need repetition. In complete form a few others have been sung or recited to me, but one stanza, probably familiar to the reader, is all I have found of a song with an unfamiliar title, Stone-Blind johnny: Landlord, fill the flowing bowl, And fill it flowing over. Tonight we'll merry, merry be, And tomorrow we'll get sober. The Saranac River is a good example of the shanty-man's pride in his work, and his dream of a happy married life on the farm after he has had enough of lumbering. Moreover, there is something of the sound of real poetry in it. Wherever there has been lumbering, the song has appeared. The first stanza is usually localized, with the river varying from Penobscot in Maine to Saginaw in Michigan. This Essex County variant was one of the first songs Uncle Kell recited to me.

THE SARANAC RIVER Ye hardy sons of freedom Who round the mountain range, Come all you gallant lumbermen, Come listen to my song. On the sunny banks of the Saranac River Where its limpid waters flow, We'll range the wild woods over And again a-lumbering go.

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY And the music of our axes Will make the woods resound, And many a lofty forest pine We'll tumble to the ground. And then around our good camp-fire, We'll sing while the rude winds blow. We'll range the wild woods over And again a-lumbering go. You may talk about your parties, Your pleasures and your plays, But pity us poor lumberboys When dashing in our sleighs. For we don't ask no better pastime Than to hunt the buck and doe. We'll range the wild woods over And again a-lumbering go. When our youthful days are over, Our pockets getting long, Each one will take his sweetheart And settle on a farm. With enough to eat, to drink, to wear, And back to the world we'll go. We'll tell our wives of the hard pastimes, No more a-lumbering go.

Tebo, like the familiar Gerry's Rocks, tells the story of a man who was drowned after breaking a jam. Mrs. Drake spent over an hour piecing the song together, as separate lines or whole stanzas came back to her.

TEBO It was one Monday morning About the hour of ten, When Thomas ordered out his men All for to break the jam. The logs were piled up mountain high, The waters swift and strong, To wash away poor Tebo And the log that he was on.

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Young Hickey came from Saranac And this I will now explain: He tried his best to save him In every way and shape. The water would roll over them; He was forced to let him go; They found his drownded body In the Raquette River-O. Tebo was an aged man, He had drove many a stream; It came to him one morning The last of the world he'd seen. It came to him that morning He had no longer to stay. He bid goodby to all the boys Upon the sixth of May. It was on the tenth of May, my boys, On the tenth of May, They found his drownded body And laid it in the clay. Tebo leaves a widow And five young children small, All for the mercy of his friends Who drove the Raquette Falls. A collection was made by all of them; Each man his share did pay, To feed and clothe the orphans Left behind that day. Death or a fight - it was all part of the day's work to the shanty-boy. Of course, though, such a song as this next one of the "racket" at Blue Mountain Lake should not be taken too seriously, for it was frequently aimed, as a joke, at someone the men all liked. I had been told that Mr. Arthur Wrisley, of Lewis, could sing me all the lumbering songs I wanted, and that Nellie, the Belle of Long Lake (apparently a variant of this song) was his favorite. When I went to see him, he said he had forgotten them all, but finally consented to tell me one about Blue Mountain Lake. This he proceeded to do with never a hesitation

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between lines. After finishing that, he vowed he knew no more, although the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. However, I had to be satisfied for the time, and asked him whether I might print the song. "Sure," he replied, "I've had it as long as I want it." He spoke more seriously than either of us realized, for only a few months later I received news of his death. BLUE MOUNTAIN LAKE Come all you good fellows, wherever you be, Come set down beside me and listen to me. A story I'll tell you that happened of late Of a racket we had up at Blue Mountain Lake. Down, down, down, derry down. There's the Sullivan boys and big Jimmy Lu, There's Peter Mose Gilbert and Dandy Patu; They're always good fellows as ever you did see, And they all work for Griffin on Township I 9. Down, down, down, derry down. Young Alec Mitchell, he kept the shanty, The meanest damn man that you ever did see. He'd lay in the shanty all day until night, And if a man said a word, he was ready to fight. Down, down, down, derry down. One morning 'fore daylight Big Jim Lu got mad, Knocked hell out of Mitchell, and the boys were all glad. Mrs. Mitchell stood there; if the truth I must tell, She was tickled to death to see Mitchell catch hell. Down, down, down, derry down. Old Mitchell stood there, the grisly old gray, A hand in the racket we thought he would take, But he run in the kitchen, you know, in great fear, "Let them fight and be damned; I will not interfere." Down, down, down, derry down. 'Twas then little Peter, he quit [kicked?] like a steer. Old Mitchell in the corner was shakin' with fear. Now Christmas is coming, and I'm going to Glens Falls, For when I have whiskey, the devil's in me.

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After the monotonous days in camp, it is not strange that the shantyboys craved excitement. Another song telling of an evening's entertainment I have called by its first line, as I found no local title. A local variant, The Dance at Clintonville, starts with an account of going to the dance, but is otherwise much the same. A Vermont version is known as The Green Mountain Boys, whereas the Michigan and North Dakota versions are called The Backwoodsman. The following account was recited by Mr. John Cutting, except the last stanza, which was added by Mrs. Frank Benedict, of Lewis. ONE MONDAY MORNING One Monday morning In 1885, I thought myself quite lucky To find myself alive. I harnessed up my horses My business to pursue A~drawing logs to E'town As my daddy used to do. The ale house bein' open, The whi.skey bein' free, Soon as one glass was empty Another was filled for me. Instead of goin' eight loads I didn't have but four;' · I got so drunk on Fisher Hill I couldn't draw no more. I met an old acquaintance As if it were by chance, And he told me· that night There was goin' to be a dance. I was hard to persuade, But at last I did agree, And we were to meet Where the fiddlin' was to be.

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY My father followed after As I have heard them say. He must have had a pilot Or he never 'd have found the way. He peeked in every keyhole Where he could see a light Till his old gray locks were wet With the dew of the night. There was four of us big Irish lads Got on the floor to dance With four as pretty French girls As ever came from France. The fiddler be in' willin', His elbow bein' strong, We danced the "Wrongs of Ireland" For four hours long. Come all you old women Who carry news about, Don't make it any worseIt's bad enough without. We'll go home to our plows, boys, We'll whistle and we'll sing. I never will be caught In such a drunken scrape again. You old women, don't tell any lies, 'Twill only raise a fuss. You're guilty of the same yourself Perhaps a damn-sight wussl

Anecdotes and Tall Tales One morning last summer I went to see Mr. Samuel Beardsley, one of the last living stage drivers in Essex County who drove a four-horse team. Mr. Beardsley, who was "Sammy" to the whole community for over eighty years, was a big man, scarcely stooped at all, though he walked with a cane. Most of the day he spent in his favorite rocker, with his pipe-stand close at hand. As he talked about the old days, his voice was deep and rumbling, and he had a way of chuckling to him-

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self before he reached the point of a story. I had planned to stay an hour or two, but lunch-time came before I realized it, and it must have been after two o'clock before I left. I promised to come back, but when I do, Mr. Beardsley will not be there. Although he loved good horses, and had driven everywhere in every kind of weather, the trip he talked most about was between Lake Placid and Saranac. Driving a four-horse stagecoach, he made only two trips a week between the two towns. The roads were bad- muddy in spring, dusty and rough in summer, and drifted in winter. The road by the Cascade Lakes is one that old-timers still talk about. The north side had high rock walls, and there was a drop of fifteen or twenty feet from the south side to the lake, which was very deep. The worst of the situation was that the road there was very narrow; in fact, Mr. Beardsley said that if he met another wagon, in order to pass he had to take the curtain-buttons off the stage! In the winter the road was plowed only wide enough for one vehicle. If two met, one of themand it wouldn't be the stage- had to back up to a "turning-out place," made for that purpose at intervals in the banks of snow. One of the worst trips he ever made over that road was in a buggy, not in the stage. That day he had been hired to take a passenger through, as no stage was scheduled till the next day. The fog was so thick that he couldn't see the horse, but as long as the buggy kept going, he figured the horse was still there. He certainly had the worst of that trip, for the fog kept the passenger from seeing how dangerous the road was, and the horse was blind anyway! Most of the time, though, Mr. Beardsley talked about people he had known. Driving stage was his business, and therefore thoroughly familiar and unexciting. On the other hand, people were always doing funny things. One day Will and Alfred was over to Wadhams Falls. They wasn't drinkin' men, but they thought they'd go into the tavern and have a drink. When they got their glasses full, Will says, "Well, here's to you,- a good man, a good husband, a good father, a good Christian, a good neighbor." Alfred picked up his glass and said, "Will, I wish I could say the same about you.""Well, you could, if you'd lie like hell, the way I did." Another story he told·was about two of his neighbors. Henry was neat, always. Jim was a hard worker, but he never looked put together. One morning Henry went down to

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY Jim's to get some straw, and Jim wasn't up yet. Finally Jim came out of the bedroom, half-dressed, and his suspenders still hangin' down. Well, when he come out, he says to his wife, "Mary, what shall I do towards gettin' breakfast?" (She was kinda feeble, so he used to make a big show of helpin' her.) Quick as a flash Henry spoke up, "Gol, man, put yourself to soak!"

Although most stories about peddlers involve murder and robbery, Mr. Beardsley told a different type of one about a peddler who used to sell tea and coffee through the county. Ted would start singin' his wares out to the road, and by the time he got to the house, he would have told you all he had to sell. The day he went to get married, he had had quite a few drinks, and he was feelin' perty happy, you know; so when the minister got to the part of the ceremony where he says, "Join hands," Ted said, "Yeah, join hands and circle to the left." While Mr. Beardsley rested, his daughter took me to see the cellar· hole where used to stand the house of Joe Call, the Lewis Giant. Joe was the subject of many tales. He was about six feet tall, thickset, and supposed to be double-jointed. A mill-wright and lumberman by trade, he was noted as a wrestler, and many stories were told of his strength. "Strong as Joe Call" was a common comparison at one time, and no wonder, according to the stories. "Sammy" Beardsley was too young to remember Joe, although he had heard his father talk of their powerful neighbor. I remember my father tellin' how he went over there with my grandfather one morning, and Joe wasn't up. He was awful lazy. Well, Grandfather called out to him, "Time to get up, Joe." He answered, "Oh, you'll live longer if you don't get up too early." Grandfather reached out, pulled back the bedclothes, picked up a barrel-stave, and hit Joe a crack. Joe jumped out of the bed with one bound, picked Grandfather up by the ankles, and dumped him head first into a sugar-barrel that was standing there. A taller, more generally known tale is told by Mr. Alec Couchey, of Essex.

ANECDOTES AND TALL TALES

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At one time Joe was asked for direction to a neighbor's house. Without a word, he lifted one of his oxen by the tail, straightened his arm out, and pointed up the road. One which Mr. Beardsley would have appreciated is told by Mr. George Cutting. During the winter a certain man in the community had plowed out the road with his team. Since he had plowed it, he was determined that if he met anyone, it would be the other fellow who turned out into the drifts to go by. It wasn't long before he did meet someone. When the other man asked him to turn out, he yelled back, "I plowed this road, and I'm not goin' to turn out for no man." The other man climbed out of his sleigh, pushed the first man's horses into the drifts, turned the cutter over, climbed back into his own cutter and drove on. That was Joe Call. Mr. Beardsley said he wasn't much on tall tales, but then he proceeded to tell me quite casually about a bear some of his friends had found froze~ to death. They hauled it into camp, and when it thawed out, they had to shoot fast, or it would have got away after all! Wherever a group of men spent the evening together, whether they were stage-drivers meeting at terminal points or lumberjacks perched along the deacon's bench, stories abounded. As practically all of the men were from farms, many of the stories were of their experiences during haying season. One that my father tells shows the feeling between Vermont and New York. When Charlie and Wally were young, they got jobs on a farm in Vermont durin' the hayin' season. At the height of the hayin' there, the men always worked till eight or nine o'clock at night and then dragged their hand-rakes all the way to the barn to gather scatt'rin's of hay, but the first night, the two men from Lewis started for the barn with their rakes over their shoulders. The man they worked for shouted at 'em, "Here in Vermont we drag our rakes." Wally shouted back, "We folks from York State ain't so damn lazy but what we can carry ours." Apparently Wally had an answer for every occasion, for Mr. George Smart, of Elizabethtown, tells another story about him. The fellow Wally worked for that summer was a hustler. He would throw a tumble of hay onto the wagon, start

26

LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY runnin' for the next tumble, and prick the horses with his fork as he went by, to make sure they started fast enough. Wally was up on the load, and one time when the boss pricked the horses, he was 'way at the back. 0' course, when the horses jumped, he tumbled off the end. The boss yelled back at him, "What you doin' down here?'' And Wally yelled right back at him, ''I'm down after more hay."

The men weren't the only ones who could tell a good story. Mrs. Edna Beahan, of Keene Valley, likes the story of a man who owned a big field of hay along the Raquette River. John had the hay all cocked ready to draw in when a thunderstorm broke. He was afraid the river would come up and carry off the hay, so he hitched up his team and started for the field. He got there just in time to see the hay floatin' down the river. Well, he up with his fork and threw that into the hay and yelled, "If the Lord wants that hay, he'll want a fork to handle it with!" Summer experiences sometimes grew a little tall in the telling, however, according to my grandfather. One farm I worked on, they never got through hayin' till snow flies. They'd rake the hay up into a win'row and leave it there till it froze. Then they'd hitch the team onto one end and haul it to the barn. As an evening progressed, the stories were apt to grow taller and taller. One of Uncle Kell's favorites is about Bill Young. When Bill Young was a kid, he was goin' into the woods after the cows one night. He had a pocket full of stones, throwin' 'em at one thing 'n' anoth,er along the way. All of a sudden he come face to face with a big black bear. She was comin' right at him with her mouth open. Well, sir, he up with one of those stones and let 'er have it right in the mouth. She turned tail quicker 'n a wink, but before she could run away, he threw another rock at 'er. That one went right in her back side 'n' struck fire on the first one 'n' burned the bear up in front of his eyes. Another story is also similar to those told by the Baron M unchausen in a collection of tales published in the eighteenth century. The story

ANECDOTES AND TALL TALES

27

itself is tall enough, but the fact that it has been retold for so many years and under such different circumstances seems even taller. An old fellow I used to know was out huntin' when he saw a fox runnin' right at 'im. He up with his gun and fired right into the fox's mouth. It turned the fox wrong side out so he was runnin' away from the man. He was so surprised, the fox had time to get away 'fore he could shoot again. At least, that is the way Uncle Jack tells it. Stories about French Canadians were also popular, because so many "Canucks" worked in the lumberwoods. Some of the best are about Old Papineau Montville, who, according to Mr. Alec Couchey of Essex, came to the United States to skip serving in the Papineau War up in Canada. One day Old Papineau was comin' home with his old horse and pung. All of a sudden the horse dropped dead. It was an awful cold night; so he couldn't stop there and wait for somebody to come by; so he rolled the horse out of the road and harnessed himself to the pung. He started out, but after a few minutes he happened to think that horses' hides were worth somethin'; so he went back and skinned the horse. The next mornin' an old peddler come along, and he sold the skin; got four dollars for it. He felt perty good about that, and he kept thinkin' about it while he was doin' the chores. W'ell, while he was doin' those chores, he thought he heard somethin' outside the barn. He went out to look, and if there wasn't the old horse without any hide! He'd walked all the way in after bein' skinned. 0' course, Papineau felt perty bad to think o' what he'd done to his poor old horse; so he tried to figger out some way to make up for it. All the time he was thinkin', there was the old horse, shiverin' and shakin' till you could 'a' heard his bones rattle. Finally Papineau remembered a cow-moose hide he had. He went and got it and fitted it onto the horse just as tight as he could, and then put the horse into the barn. Well, sir, that hide grew onto him, and fitted so well you wouldn't 'a' known but it was his in the first place. The funny part of it was that after that the horse wouldn't eat hay- he had to have brush like a moose - and he never trotted any more he always run like a moose, and it would have taken two horses to keep up with him.

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY Another one of Mr. Couchey's favorite characters is Shambo. Shambo used to go huntin' perty often. One time he went down to Partridge Harbor, and it was just covered with wild geese. Well, o' course, he wanted to get 'em all, so he begun to figger out how he. could do it. Well, he went and got some seine-twine and made a net big enough to cover the whole harbor. He put some cork floats on it, and fastened on some corn for bait. Then he tied the net by the corners to rocks and trees on the shore. After a couple o' days, he saw another big flock o' geese go over the house, so he took his old muzzleloader and went down to investigate. The net was full o' geese - the wlrole harbor was covered. He thought he could leave just one corner tied, haul the rest in, and wring the necks of the geese as fast as he hauled them in. The trouble was, just as he had it all unfastened except that one corner, the geese raised all to once. The rope slipped off the last rock and up under Shambo's arms, so with him in the net, the geese started flyin'. They circled the bay with him twice, and then headed northwest. Finally they got tired and landed, and when they did, they were right in his meadow, and he wasn't hurt at all. He went to the house and got some corn and scattered it all the way from the net to the hen-house before he let the geese loose from the net. 0' course they went along, eatin' the corn, and walked right into the hen-house, nice as you please. There was geese enough so he had 'em to sell for two years.

Tall stories, tall men, tall mountains- is it any wonder Essex has been called the "up-histed" county?

Hidden Treasure Legends of hidden treasure persist in the mountains as well as near pirate haunts by the "salt, salt sea." One of these is told of Saddle Mountain. Long ago, at the time when there was only one house where now stands the village of Lewis, two Spaniards came to that house to get supplies. These men had never been seen before in that region. One was evidently sick, and he was riding on a mule upon a beautiful saddle. The other man walked. In spite of offers of hospitality and the sick man's need of care, both men insisted on returning to the mountains as soon as possible. Before they went, however, they hinted or told the master of the house that there was gold under a certain rock on a mountain which was cleft at the top. This news, as well as their

HIDDEN TREASURE

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hurry to get back to the mountain, so excited the householder that as soon as he could do so without risk of being discovered, he started to trail them. In spite of his best efforts, he lost their track, and, although he hunted faithfully, he never found any trace of them. Never afterwards were the Spaniards seen. This story was told for years until finally a group of men decided to set out and scour the mountain thoroughly in hopes of finding the gold or some trace of it, or of the Spaniards. They found no gold, but they did find a skeleton - some people say a man's; some, a mule'sand the remains of a beautiful old Spanish saddle. There is said to be gold hidden in a cave on Mount Discovery, too. Some years ago a hunter discovered the cave, but, not having time to explore then, he determined to go back later. Never again was he able to discover it, and to this day no one knows where the cave is. This mountain got its name, not from the discovery of gold, but from the fact or supposition that a look-out man posted there was the first to discover the French coming down Lake Champlain during the French and Indian War. It is said that there was a tower on top of the mountain, and that even during the last generation pieces of iron and iron rings could be found there.

Weather-Lore While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not pass away.- Genesis 8: 22. For centuries farmers had to depend on their own observation and on the accumulated lore of their ancestors to foretell the weather. In order to plan their crops, they needed to know whether a wet summer or a dry one was in prospect; they needed to know the approximate length of the winter, in order to plan the necessary amount of hay and grain. More immediately important, however, was the need of forecasting storm during haying or harvesting seasons. Consequently, after years of experience, farmers came to depend on certain signs. Many of these they told in rhymes that were easy to remember. Some of them became widely known and accepted, while others were proved true only in a particular locality. Therefore, a good farmer had to be alert to local weather-conditions. Although many sayings about the weather are not considered, now that weather is forecast scientifically, a number are still quoted.

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LORE OF AN •ADIRONDACK COUNTY

In order to foretell the summer weather, many people watch for the first leaves on the oak and ash trees in the spring, for, If the oak comes out before the ash, 'Twill be a summer of rain and dash. If the ash comes out before the oak, 'Twill be a summer of fire and smoke. If the oak and the ash come out together, 'Twill be a summer of varied weather.

To foretell the length of summer, they listen for the first cricket in the spring. In this locality, snow may be expected ninety days from the first day the cricket chirps. Concerning spring winds, there is a belief that for forty days following Good Friday the wind will be in the same direction as it is on that day. (If it is south, the year will be a good one for corn.) The severity of the winter is supposed to be indicated by many signs, such as the number of nuts, the height of hornets' nests from the ground, and the thickness of cornhusks. Moreover, people who shiver with the cold in December are reminded that As the days begin to lengthen, The cold begins to strengthen. Many farmers try to plan the winter's fodder according to the rhyme: Half your corn and half your hay Will be gone by Candlemas Day. Signs of thaw are important in the winter. One is the presence of little sparks called thaw-birds on the inside of the stove-door or on the sooty bottom of a kettle. Another saying is that there will be a thaw when Old Slip roars; that is, when the wind roars on that mountain. On the other hand, fog in the winter is dreaded, for Winter's fog Will freeze a dog. If one wishes to foretell weather for the whole year, one should observe the twelve days of Christmas- from Christmas to Epiphany. If Christmas Day is sunny, a clear January may be expected, etc. However, if one is content to foretell shorter periods of time, one may notice the last Friday and Saturday of each month, for the weather of the first half of the next month will be like Friday's weather, whereas the last half will be like Saturday's.

WEATHER LORE

!H

In order to foretell a storm, one needs to know that A clear, bright sky of fleckless blue Will breed a storm in a day or two. Also, if the sun sets clear on Friday night, it will rain before Monday night; or if the storm clears in the night, it will rain again within forty-eight hours. However, a rainy morning implies good weather, for Rain before seven Clear before eleven. When there is a circle around the moon, the number of stars within the circle numbers the days before the storm. If there are no stars, the saying is Near-on circle; far-off storm. Far-off circle; near-on storm. On a day when sunshine and clouds alternate, the saying is Open and shet Sure sign of wet. The meaning of a red sky was well known even at the time of Christ, for Jesus said to the Pharisees and Sadducees: When it is evening, ye say, It will be fair weather; for the sky is red. And in the morning, It will be foul weather today; for the sky is red and lowring. That forecast appears again in many rhymes: Pink at nightNext day bright. Evening red and morning gray Sure sign of a fair day. Evening red and morning gray Sends the traveler on his way; Evening gray and morning red Brings wild winds around his head. Of course, the rainbow has always been considered an omen. As far inland as we are, the saying is Rainbow in the morningSailors take warning. Rainbow at night Sailors delight.

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Beside the sayings concerning weather itself, there are various othen to govern the time of planting vegetables and grains. Some people think· that corn should be planted when red-oak leaves are as large as a mouse's ear; others say it should be planted when whip-poor-wills call, or when swallows come. Sometimes, too, the time is recorded in rhymes like the following: On the fifteenth of July Sow your turnips, wet or dry. However, a man should not be over-cautious in planting by weathersigns, for He that observeth the wind and the rain shall not reap.

Proverbial Sayings Proverbs are like spices- such a universal flavoring that they can hardly be said to belong to one place. Still, a given community always has a few characteristic ones besides those that everybody knows, and the speech in Essex County is as full of them "as an egg is full of meat." It is a case of "Every man to his own taste." Perhaps that idea is in the mind of the girl who marries an old man, when she says, "Better an old man's darling than a young man's slave," or, looking further ahead, "The hide and tallow of an old ox will buy a young steer." However, if a girl is indifferent to a man, we say, "He doesn't cut any ice on her pond"; whereas, if the man is indifferent, a girl may be warned that Where the cobwebs grow, The beaux don't go. Or, in other cases, There's no Jack without a Jill; If one won't, another will. On the other hand she may be comforted with the saying: There never was a goose so gray But some day, soon or late, A great gray gander'd come that way And choose her for his mate. However, if the parents and friends disapprove of the prospective bride or groom, they should remember that

PROVERBIAL SAYINGS

He warned against the woman; She warned against the man If that don't make a match, There's nothing else that can. A girl was expected to be able to cook and sew and keep the house "as slick as goose-grease"; consequently, many sayings have gathered around those occupations. A saying that is close to superstition is often repeated to a girl who is learning to cook: "Always stir in the same direction." If she asks her mother to watch the cake after she has put it in the oven, she is warned that "the baking's half the making." Very young girls could do simple sewing, and they were early taught the rule, "Girls and buttons on the right." Many a more experienced woman quoted these proportions while sewing: Twice around your thumb will go around your wrist; Twice around your wrist will go around your neck; Twice around your neck will go around your waist; And twice around your waist is higher than you can jump. As a matter of course girls learned early to patch and to mend, although they were usually cautioned that Patch by patch is neighborly, But patch on patch is beggarly. On the other hand, a child who complained of patched or ill-fitting clothing was told that, "Wrinkles and patches don't show on a trotting horse." When a woman has finished one task, she will often ask, "Well, what's the next four miles?" If she has had a very active day, she may say she has been "hopping around like a hen with her head cut off" or "like a pea in a hot skillet". On the other hand, if she has been doing some apparently endless task that calls for close attention, such as hulling wild strawberries, she may remark that it is "fiddling work making flies." After a day spent in doing odds and ends, she may tell you that she has been "killing toads." Work outside on the farm has its sayings, too. For instance, when planting corn, you should put eight kernels in each hill to provide for all contingencies: Drop two for the grub, two for the crow, Two to rot, and two to grow. In judging horses, the following rhyme was applied because the marks mentioned in the last lines were characteristic of a native breed of

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY

small, mean-tempered horses. Moreover, a horse with white feet often had soft hoofs. One white foot, buy it; Two white feet, try it; Three white feet, deny it; Four white feet and a snip on the noseTake off its hide and give it to the crows. If a man is splitting wood and finds a knurly piece, he may remark that it is "tough as the butt-end of thunder." If he accuses the wrong person of anything, we say he is "barking up the wrong tree" or he "got the wrong sow by the ear." A farmer's daughter who whistles is warned that Whistling girls and jumping sheep Are the worst property a man can keep. However, she usually answers, Whistling girls and jumping sheep Always come to the top of the heap. Many proverbial comparisons are applicable to various things and people; for instance, "clean as a hound's tooth," "cunning as a bug's ear," "curly as a pig's tail," "cute as a cotton hat," "gay as a lark," "good as the wheat," "happy as a tinker," "happy as the day is long," "quick on the trigger," "rough as a grater," "scarce as hen's teeth," or "smart as a whip." Sometimes a word is crystalized in such a comparison so that it is still used there long after it has gone out of use elsewhere. Such a word is grig, an old English word for a cricket, in the proverbial comparison, "merry as a grig." The reference may even have been forgotten by most people, like the significance of Gilderoy in "high as Gilderoy's kite." In early English legal practice, men who committed great crimes were hanged from a higher gallows than were lesser criminals. It is said that Gilderoy was a robber who was hanged so high that he looked like a kite against the sky; hence the comparison. There are a few proverbial expressions that refer to the weather, though they do not really foretell it. Mother Goose is probably referred to in the saying, "The old lady is picking her geese," which is quoted when there are big, feathery flakes of snow in the air. In the late winter or early spring, when we hear the woodpecker drumming on a tree, we say, When you hear the peckaboo Drumming on the hollowboo, Then you know that spring's a-comin', Whether or no.

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Ethical proverbs which are quoted would do credit to Poor Richard -or perhaps they are his anyway. One is Drive slow; Pay what you owe; And always have friends Wherever you go. A person who is discouraged is reminded that "Well begun is half done." When trouble arises, one is told that What can't be cured Must be endured. Or, more elaborately, For every evil under the sun There is a cure, or there is none. If there's a cure, try to fin·d it; If there's none, just never mind it. Many of the expressions characterizing people are particularly apt. When someone accomplishes something worth while, his family is given due credit if a neighbor remarks, "Well, he didn't come from under a toadstool." My Grandmother White used to say that a man who was slow in paying his debts "was awful long-waisted," meaning that he couldn't reach down to his pocket. If a person is agreeable to every suggestion, he "veers with the wind," or he "has as many faces as a round stick of timber." On the other hand, if he is "always on the other side of the fence," he is "contrary as Job's off-ox" or "as a hog on ice." An awkward person, we say, is "handy as a hog with a fiddle," whereas a slow one is "slower than death after a nigger." If a man resents something done to him, which he has already done to others, we remark that, "It makes a difference whose ox is gored." If he takes exception to that remark, we suggest, "If the shoe (or coat) fits, put it on." The clothes of a man who is very thin "hang on him like a shirt on a beanpole." A good worker (or a man who is sober) at intervals is "steady by jerks." Someone who carries too big a load of anything is said to carry "a lazy man's load"; that is, he is too lazy to make a second trip. When a man shows by his walk that he is frightened, he is said to "go sideways like a hog to war." (This is said also of a wagon or other machine that slews.) Anyone running away "takes leg-bail for security." Of that lowest form of humanity, a man with a little, mean disposition, we say, "His soul would have as much scope on a flea's bladder as a duck would have on Lake Ontario."

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY

How Do You Play It? Less than fifty years ago, people would come from miles around to attend a sociable. They arrived soon after seven o'clock, had supper between ten-thirty and midnight, and often stayed till two or after, for when people drove miles with a team, they planned to stay long enough to make the visit worth while. One room of the house would usually be cleared, even if the furniture was moved out of doors, to make room for the young people to play games. One such game that was said to refer to Rouses Point up in Clinton County was We'll All Go Down to Rouses, although it is sung elsewhere as Rowsers. Four couples formed as if for a quadrille and sang these verses, the first part of the tune being much like We Won't Get Home Until Morning and the second part like The Old Gray Mare: We'll all go down to Rouses, We'll all go down to Rouses, We'll all go down to Rouses, To get some Lager Beer. Right hand, left, we're Going to Jerusalem, (Repeat twice) Right hand, left, we're Going to Jerusalem. Ohl Ain't I glad! As the first four lines were sung, the first and third couples advanced and retired, then advanced again, and "passed through", the couples having exchanged places. As the second part was sung, there was a "grand right and left," with a swing on the Oh. Then the whole thing was repeated for the second and fourth couples. Although this game seems like a square dance, it was not considered one, and therefore was not condemned as dances were by many pious people. The foregoing game was described for me by my mother; and the next one, Sailing on the Ocean, was written down by her sister, Mrs. Alec Couchey, and her niece, Gladness Couchey. In order to play this next game, the group formed a circle with four girls in the center, and kept circling as they sang: Sailing on the ocean when the tide rolls high, Sailing on the ocean when the tide rolls high, Sailing on the ocean when the tide rolls high, Waiting for the pretty boys coming by and by.

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During the singing of the next four lines, each girl selected a partner: Choose your partner and stay till day, (3) For we don't care what the old folks say. The circling continued during the rest of the song: Eight in the boat, and it won't go round, (3) So now kiss the pretty boys that you've just found. After the kiss, the girls joined the big circle, leaving the boys in the middle, and the game was repeated, with the boys choosing partners. No matter what is said against the little red schoolhouse, it did throw children on their own resources for games, many of which they modeled on incidents of country life; and it provided an opportunity for games to be passed naturally from older children to younger ones. One of these that Mrs. T. J. Wells, of Essex, remembers playing as a girl in Lake Placid, was Old Father Tom. In this the children sat in line with arms crossed and feet crossed under them. The two people who were It stood behind the line, while those in line called, "Who's around my house this dark night?" Those who were It answered, "Old Father Tom with his nightcap on.""What is he after?""A big fat sheep.""Take it and run." Then the two who were It seized one from the line by the elbows and tried to carry him to another line. If they succeeded, he had to take the place of one of them. That the bears are not all gone from "them thar hills" is evident from the game called Old Black Bear. In that, one person, who is the Black Bear, stands between the two goals behind each of which an equal number of players stands. Before they leave these goals, the following dialogue is exchanged: How many miles to Kangaroo? Sixty-one by sixty-two. Can I get there by candle-light? Yes, if the old black bear don't bite. Then individuals try to cross to the other goal. If Black Bear catches them, they have to help catch others, the first one caught being Black Bear next time. Foxes, too, appeared in games, for Fox and Geese was played summer and winter. In the summer, four goals were laid out in kite-shape. Then

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY

the person who was the fox tried to catch one of the geese, who were safe only on one of the goals. \Vhen a person was caught, he took the place of the fox. The game is still played in the winter, when the field, a circle cut in pie-shape, is laid out in the snow, and the goals are the points where the radii touch the circle. In the winter a generation ago, one of the most exciting sports was sliding down hill on skippers. The few boys who had sleds had handmade ones, but everyone could have a skipper. \Voe to the man who thoughtlessly left a pork-barrel out of doors some night, for the runner of the skipper was a barrel-stave. The seat was a piece of board nailed acros~ a' upright a little over a foot high, set two-thirds of the way back on the stave. Just try it some day and see if you don't feel like the "daring young man on the flying trapeze." Besides the group games and sports, there were many individual stunts to test strength and skill. One that even the youngest children could do was to make Hickory Bread. To do this, a person sits down, with his feet crossed under him, and takes hold of his right foot with his left hand and left foot with his right hand. As he says the first two lines of the following rhyme, he starts rocking backward and forw:;.rd; and with the next two lines, he rocks back onto his shoulders and up agam. Father and Mother have gone to bed And left me alone to make hickory bread. So I'll up with my heels and down with my head And that is the way to make hickory bread.

The Supernatural Ghosts Since the appearance of supernatural beings to humans is rare, we consider ourselves fortunate that members of our family have seen a ghost. In one place where my great-grandfather used to live, two members of the family both saw and heard the apparition that haunted the house. An old man with short white whiskers, he came in many times at night, sat on the bed and ground his teeth; very often he ran the parin~ machine which stood in the pantry opening from the kitchen. The family tried to convince themselves that they imagined the noise; so, for several nights, they put an apple in the machine. In the morning the apple would be pared right down to the core. Then they drove a heavy staple into the door-casing and tied an inch

THE SUPERNATURAL

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rope into that and into the latch, to keep the ghost out of the pantry. In the morning the rope was untied, and the paring machine had run all night. The ghost did not seem to come at any particular time of night; in fact, members of the family often heard him walking around upstairs during the day. He was supposed to be the spirit of a man who, years ago, had lived in that house. He had been so cruel to his wife that a gang of men had gone to his home one night to tar and feather him. In the commotion, he had been strangled. Although his ghost haunted the house for some time, it has not been seen nor heard in years. There have been other ghosts in the county, but the most convivial haunted an old house near Hurricane Mountain. When people stayed in this house over night, they would hear the ghost come in through an upstairs window. Then there would be the sound of a scuffle, or fight, and then a clump} clump} clump} like the sound of someone carrying a heavy load downstairs. Sometimes they would hear him go down cellar; they said he was going down there for cider! Omens and Divination The will of supernatural powers other than ghosts is revealed through certain signs, particularly if satisfactory rites are performed. Although these omens are not believed by many of the younger generation, many older people know and respect them. For instance, an old lady once told me this rhyme: New moon, true moon, pray tell to me Who my true love's to beThe color of his hair and the clothes he shall wear And the day he'll marry me. If I'm to be of his name and race,

Let me meet him three times face to face; But if I am not his bride to be, Then let his back be turned to me. After she had told me the omen, she said that years ago, when she was just a girl, she had met a boy whom she liked very much. She met him "face to face" a second time, but the third time that she saw him, his back was turned to her. She never married. Another way of finding out one's true love is explained in the following rhyme:

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY When you go to bed, Set your shoes to face the street; Tie your garters around your feet; Put your stockings under your head. The one you dream of, you'll surely wed.

Still another way is valid only at Hallowe'en. Then a girl should peel an apple, taking care not to break the peeling until it is quite long, when it w'tll form the first initial of her true love's name if she swings it around her head three times and drops it back of her, saying, I wind, I bind, My true love to find The color of his hair, The clothes he shall wear, And the day he will marry me. A different rhyme may be repeated when a girl goes down cellar backwards, looking over her left shoulder in a mirror: '-\Tho my true love is to be Come and look in this glass with me. If her mother does not object, she may sift ashes on the floor and under

the bed. In the morning, if a name is written in the ashes, it is a sign that she will be married. If there is no name, she will live single. After the true lm·e has been duly found, the times arrives for the wedding, governed by various beliefs. One of them deals with the color of the bride's wedding dress: Married Married Married Married

in blue, you'll always be true; in brown, you'll increase the town; in black, you'll wish yourself back; in green, you'll live like a queen; (or, you'll be 'shamed to be seen) Married in red, you'll wish yourself dead; But married in white, you've chosen all right. Another belief is that when neighbors and friends are helping a prospective bride tie a quilt, each one should make a wish for her when making the first tie. Supernatural powers may reveal the future through dreams. One warning is given in the rhyme,

THE SUPERNATURAL

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Friday night's dream Saturday morning told Is sure to come to pass Before it's nine days old. Friday is important also in a rhyme which concerns work: Friday begun Soon finished Or never done. Folk-Medicine Although many cures depended on the use of herbs which had genuine medicinal value, others derived their supposed value entirely from supernatural powers. The numerous cures for warts are probably the best known of the latter kind, though many other ills required equally strange remedies. For instance, a child who had asthma might be cured by the following method:- Part of a door or window-casing was pried up, and a lock of the child's hair inserted under it. When he grew so that he was taller than the place where the lock of hair was kept, he would have outgrown his asthma. The physical height a boy would reach in later life, by the way, would be determined by measuring him on his second birthday, for . he was then considered to be half as tall as he would be at maturity. The mystery of birthmarks was explained supernaturally. Such a mark was believed to be caused by the expectant mother's touching her body when something impressed her with horror or grief, but it might be removed if touched soon enough by the object it resembled. For example, there is the story of the woman who was hungry for cottage cheese. When someone brought her a ball of it, her four children came in, clamoring for a taste. Although she wanted it terribly, she could not deprive the children; picking up a knife, she slashed the ball into four pieces, and gave a piece to each of them. Then she began to cry. With the knife still in her hand, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. When her child was born, it had a pebbly white mound, marked in four pieces, on its cheek. In another family, a child was born with a mark resembling a strawberry on its eyelid. The mother touched it with a real strawberry, causing the mark to disappear. Although birthmarks, apparently, were not considered to affect or foretell a child's future, a caul was thought to be sign that the baby was endowed with supernatural powers, and was always dried and kept.

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LORE OF AN ADIRONDACK COUNTY Witches

Witches were often blamed when housework did not turn out right, and stories of witches were sometimes used to scare children. That they were quite effective is proved by the story Uncle George tells: My mother told me about one girl that laughed at an old witch. The witch warned her that if she tried to cross the Noble Bridge in Elizabethtown that night, she would be stuck on the bridge until the witch was willing to let her go. Sure enough, that happened. Well, I had to go over that bridge a couple of nights later, and let me tell you, my feet didn't stick!

Ballads and Songs Except on the rare occasions when an itinerant fiddler stayed for a night or two, in the days before phonograph and radios every family supplied its own music. Everyone who could sing- and many who couldn't- had a favorite ballad of which he knew all the stanzas, and some people knew songs by the dozen. One man told me that he learn·:d two hundred songs before he found out he couldn't sing! No doubt Anson Allen, the hero of a local ballad, attacked the bear with much the same confidence, for Allen's fight with a bear was one of the heroic feats, still remembered, that was performed in the early days of Essex County. Anson H. Allen was a newspaperman who believed in the value of local news. How excited the journalist's soul must have been when he realized he had a scoop on the bear story, for no one else had seen the fight! The Old Settler, a term sometimes used to refer to Allen himself, was the name of the third paper which he published, a monthly concerning the history and news of northern New York. He established it in 1847 and continued it until some time after 1851. The fight with the bear occurred before the publication of that paper, in 1840, when Allen was taking the census of the county. To do that, he visited every village, going on foot through many sections that were practically wilderness. On the way from Keene to North Elba he met a she-bear and her cubs. As hunters know, that is a bad combination to face with any weapon, but Allen was armed only with a jack-knife. In honor of the titanic struggle there was an oilpainting, trace of which seems to have been lost, and the following ballad, copied by Mrs. Daisy Hathaway from an F,~'!."