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Tim (search for this): chapter 13
which I was very intimate in my boyhood. They are all dispersed. Aaron Warner Clisby, my especial friend and playmate, is, or was a few years ago, a clergyman in Alabama. The name of Swan was also well known and honored sixty years ago. No one bears that name here now. Mr. Samuel Swan had a family of seven children, and of them I have heard this story: Some one asked which of two of his sons, Lincoln or Timothy, was the elder. Let's see, was the answer; there are Sam, Dan, Jo, Han, Lin, Tim, and Ca—Oh, Lin is the elder! The names, properly extended, were Samuel, Daniel, Joseph, Hannah, Lincoln, Timothy, and Caleb. Daniel Swan was the beloved physician of this town, and most pleasantly remembered by our citizens who have passed middle age. One of the most interesting memorials of the past standing in Medford was the Tufts house in the public square, on the western corner of Forest street. It was torn down in 1867. It was a large unpainted wooden building, three stories hig
Francis R. Bigelow (search for this): chapter 13
longing to a later generation, were Samuel Lapham, Joseph Manning, 2d., Daniel Lawrence, George L. Stearns, John Sparrell, Jonas Coburn, George Hervey, Dudley C. Hall, Peter C. Hall, George W. Porter, John Clough, Albert H. Butters, and Col. Francis R. Bigelow, and there were doubtless others whose names escape me. Let it be remembered that I am speaking of the reading-room in the early period of its history. I was not so well acquainted with it afterwards. When the Tufts House was taken dowway with me. About the time of the building of the railroad station that part of Main street between the bridge and Jonathan Porter's store, now Yerxa and Yerxa's, underwent great changes. A wooden building used to occupy the present site of Bigelow's brick block next the river. This building, or a part of it, was tenanted by Mr. Patrick Conolly, a tall, thin Irishman of severe aspect, a cobbler by profession. General Lawrence tells of Mr. Conolly that on one St. Patrick's day, after mak
Augustus Baker (search for this): chapter 13
s four smoking horses, roll up to the steps of the Medford House! The proprietorship of the Medford House has passed through many hands, but of no one of the landlords will people who are old enough retain a more vivid recollection than of Augustus Baker. He was an Italian by birth, and a barber by profession. I could never understand where he got his English name, but he had probably adopted it. Entirely without education, he was gifted with native shrewdness, and at one time became possesne of his apple trees overhung the fence of a neighboring proprietor who, being a very close man, was jealous of the encroachment, and availing himself of what he believed to be his legal rights, cut off the limbs of the tree close to the fence. Baker said nothing, but one day going into his orchard he saw that his neighbor, working in his own field, had thrown his coat upon the fence. The vengeful Italian, creeping up stealthily, took out his knife and cut off that portion of the garment whi
Charles Brooks (search for this): chapter 13
room on the western corner was for many years used for the reading-room to which I have already referred, and concerning which I shall have something more to say. A very faithful likeness of the Tufts building will be found in Usher's edition of Brooks' History. And the Tufts family played an important part in the earlier and later history of the town. The founder of the family, Mr. Peter Tufts, was born in England in 1617, and came to New England somewhere about 1638 and was one of the earw one of the most thickly settled parts of Medford. His son, Capt. Peter Tufts, resided in Medford and was the father of Dr. Simon Tufts, the first physician of the town. It seems likely that he was the builder of the house in the square which Brooks, I know not by what authority, says was built in 1725. Dr. Simon Tufts was succeeded by his son, Dr. Simon Tufts, Jr., a man of high character and excellent professional standing. In my earliest recollection of the Tufts house it was occupied by
Joseph Manning (search for this): chapter 13
m their resort were men of advanced age, and might be considered as links connecting the centuries. Beside those I have already mentioned were Ebenezer Hall, Joseph Manning, 1st., Dr. Daniel Swan, Dudley Hall, and Joseph Swan. Their conversation, reverting to incidents which occurred in their youth, opened vistas into a past which now seems very remote to us. Other patrons of the reading-room, belonging to a later generation, were Samuel Lapham, Joseph Manning, 2d., Daniel Lawrence, George L. Stearns, John Sparrell, Jonas Coburn, George Hervey, Dudley C. Hall, Peter C. Hall, George W. Porter, John Clough, Albert H. Butters, and Col. Francis R. Bigelow, h the High School. I left it to attend the private school of Mr. Day, kept in the larger building which used to occupy the site upon which the residence of Mr. Joseph Manning, on Forest street, now stands. Mr. Day was the successor of Mr. John Angier, long and favorably known as the principal of a boarding-school which obtained
Daniel (search for this): chapter 13
Clisby, my especial friend and playmate, is, or was a few years ago, a clergyman in Alabama. The name of Swan was also well known and honored sixty years ago. No one bears that name here now. Mr. Samuel Swan had a family of seven children, and of them I have heard this story: Some one asked which of two of his sons, Lincoln or Timothy, was the elder. Let's see, was the answer; there are Sam, Dan, Jo, Han, Lin, Tim, and Ca—Oh, Lin is the elder! The names, properly extended, were Samuel, Daniel, Joseph, Hannah, Lincoln, Timothy, and Caleb. Daniel Swan was the beloved physician of this town, and most pleasantly remembered by our citizens who have passed middle age. One of the most interesting memorials of the past standing in Medford was the Tufts house in the public square, on the western corner of Forest street. It was torn down in 1867. It was a large unpainted wooden building, three stories high in the front, and sloping down to one low story in the rear. Such was the pic
Paul Potter (search for this): chapter 13
wagons or sleds, loaded with cord-wood, stretching from what is now Governor's avenue to Pasture Hill Lane. He would miss Capt. John Sparrell with his measuring rod, vigilant to see that purchasers lost nothing of their proper dues. And he would miss the noble oxen, waving their heads and ruminating their liberal allowance of corn fodder which was spread before them, their warm, fragrant breath floating away on the frosty air, the scene affording a motif to inspire the best efforts of a Paul Potter or a Troyon. The picturesque age has passed and the mechanical has succeeded; the beautiful sky is cobwebbed with trolley wires, and day and night are made hideous with the infernal whiz of the electric car. Excuse me for this burst of pessimism. I sometimes find the electric car mighty convenient. To go on with the square and its neighborhood. The present stone bridge is certainly a great improvement on the wooden structure with its teetering draw, which preceded it. It used to
John Burrage (search for this): chapter 13
held to heroic practices in matters dietetic; he is reported to have said that the reason why mince-pies hurt people was because they did not make them rich enough. The sidewalk in front of Mr. Turell Tufts' house used to be our favorite resort for a game of marbles. We found a pleasant shade under the two mighty buttonwoods, and the ground was smooth and hard. Here on a pleasant day might have been seen Parson Stetson's sons, the Halls, Lawrences, Clisbys, Sam Gregg, Charley Ballou, John Burrage, and others who shall be nameless. Charles Ballou was a dead shot at marbles, and when he aimed at your alley, six feet off, it was a good plan to say good-by to it. When the play became noisy, Mr. Tufts would sally out from his front door, wildly flourish his cane, and order us off. So David Copperfield's Aunt Betsey Trotwood used to rush out to drive the intrusive donkey from her green. We obeyed, but the retreat was only temporary; we went back as soon as the old gentleman resumed h
Redmond (search for this): chapter 13
he boy who knocked me down so summarily, a few months later sat next to me in school. We became very good friends and he used to bring me nice apples from his father's orchard—the high-top sweetings of those days, which, like many other good things, have passed away. I asked him one day why he had struck me. Oh, said he, reassuringly, only for fun. It was all very well, but I couldn't help thinking the fun was very unevenly divided. The poor fellow a few years later went to sea with Captain Redmond of this town, and while the ship was lying at New Orleans fell from the yard-arm and was killed. His life was short, and perhaps I ought not to be sorry to remember that during its brief term it fell to my lot to contribute something to his amusement. But he struck very hard. Of the old inhabitants of Medford I might say a good deal if time permitted. I have seen among them people of pre-Revolutionary birth, and of course they had the ways and manners of the olden time. Some of t
Joseph Swan (search for this): chapter 13
en— the Advertiser, Post, Atlas, the Evening Journal (the Journal was then published as an evening paper), and the Transcript. Here one got a glance at the older Medford, which had even then almost passed away. As I have already stated, many of those who made the reading-room their resort were men of advanced age, and might be considered as links connecting the centuries. Beside those I have already mentioned were Ebenezer Hall, Joseph Manning, 1st., Dr. Daniel Swan, Dudley Hall, and Joseph Swan. Their conversation, reverting to incidents which occurred in their youth, opened vistas into a past which now seems very remote to us. Other patrons of the reading-room, belonging to a later generation, were Samuel Lapham, Joseph Manning, 2d., Daniel Lawrence, George L. Stearns, John Sparrell, Jonas Coburn, George Hervey, Dudley C. Hall, Peter C. Hall, George W. Porter, John Clough, Albert H. Butters, and Col. Francis R. Bigelow, and there were doubtless others whose names escape me. L
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