Mon., 27 Wash & mop. Too miserable to want to go down street. A very nice day. Get sugar shell from Chicago.
Wed., 27 Wash out a few things & mop the kitchen. Mason’s banquet to-night. Pare apples &tc. Storming.
Sun., 26 A miserable, windy day. Not feeling well but we all attend service. Take my class. Write to Ashton & Ruth.
Tues., 26 Quite warm & still moderating. Letter from Hattie. Henry & Bob fill the ice house. Benjamin gets an ugly cut in his forehead from an ice spade. Grace out school. I can just get about & feel extra miserable.
Sat., 25 A lovely day, but cool. Bake A.M. Go to the farm P.M. Gertrude’s class club meet here P.M. Sandwiches, cake & coffee served. SS lesson in the evening.
Mon., 25 Very cold. All sick. Mend a little P.M. & go from one stove to another trying to keep warm. Helen going to school P.M. Grace quite sick. Lillie Burroughs calls at 9 o’clock A.M. selling a book on Cuba. Tuttle goes to Monkton.
Fri., 24 Henry comes in the morning, Grace at noon. Brings me a set of plates. Mend in the evening. Tuttle stays at home in the evening. Hud comes home.
Sun., 24 A service in our church. Blue fish for dinner. The whole family down with the distemper. Write to Maria. The Youngs make it lively for a short time at night.
Thurs., 23 Do a little writing, a little mending, &tc. Attend the prayer meeting with 3 children. Sit with the prudential committee to examine candidates for Baptism. Benjamin, Henrietta & 6 others taken into the church. A good meeting. Tuttle at home in evening. Henry attends the fish & game league, in Burlington.
Sat., 23 RIse at 5 o’clock. Make 5 pies before breakfast. Go down street for groceries and Henry goes to the doctor. Storming hard & blowing from the north. Drive up to Woodman’s for pills & painkiller. Make cake P.M. & after a nap mend in the evening. Anna quite sick. Ollie’s wedding cards, & a letter from Aunt Frank.
My plan is to follow Ella’s diary through the year, and to comment on the entry. There is no entry for this date. Until I looked through birth and death records for the Fisher family at the Vergennes City Clerk’s office, I was very worried about this. Ella’s youngest son, Benjamin, had been very ill, and there were no entries for several weeks. She did not say that he had died, and I suspect she would have, since she was a very active church-goer (she was a pillar of the First Baptist Church in Vergennes–more on this someday!). But he did not die, and I have no idea why she didn’t make entries. Benjamin went on to become Mayor of St. Albans, Vermont, where I lived for five years of my childhood.
This may be a strange way to unfold Ella’s story, but it has been unfolding strangely for me. . .bits and pieces of her life coming to my attention, nothing in order. So this is what it is.
Here also is one of her poems, appropriate for this cold windy morning, 4 miles from Ella’s Vergennes home:
AUTUMN WINDS
The leaves are falling. . . falling,
Small quivering things at play,
And the wind in little flurries
Is whirling them away.
The crows are leaving. . . leaving
Along the mottled sky. . .
This morning at my window
I saw them southward fly.
My wilted flowers have drained
The summer’s brimming cup,
And the grass is frosted, waxen,
Ere the tardy sun comes up.
The winter is coming. . . coming,
It tingles in the air,
And the whispering winds of autumn
Are searching everywhere.
Filed under: Introduction
Since I’m a library trustee, I’ve decided it’s time to get over my technophobia and learn how to use my computer as more than a typwriter and file box. So here’s a blog.
It will be mostly concerned, at least for now, with a local history project that began in 2006 when I bought a little diary in a local antique store, written by a woman who never mentioned her own name or the town she lived in. I’ve since tracked down the author–Ella Warner Fisher–and the town–Vergennes, Vermont, and a descendent, to whom I have given the original diary. She told me that Ella Fisher was a poet who published five books during her lifetime. I’m working now on a manuscript combining the diary entries with poems. I’ll add bits and pieces to this site as time allows. So, welcome to Ella and I!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun, Feb 25 Attend church. Hattie sits with us. Ashton not well enough to come out. Stormed all night, plough comes up so we get out. Wind blows a blizzard after noon. No one attends evening service. Write Helen, Mother & Ruth.
Sunday was always the day to write letters. I suspect she “kept the Sabbath” as well as she could.
Mon., Feb 26 A bright day. Snow piled in drifts very cold. Mend a little. Send papers to Father, Carrie & Ruth. Grace Parker comes home with the children.
I think from earlier diaries that Father is Henry’s father. And here’s a poem from “Homeland in the North” that does a pretty good job of the end of February.
FEBRUARY
The winter was dull and lifeless,
Soon melted the fleeting snows,
Rains washed the unlovely ground
Patched with soiled snow
On the forgotten stubble
Of a dead autumn.
February was going out!
Dismally it rained!
Then softly the snow fell,
It coated the patched and ugly ground,
The dripping thorn bushes,
The brown roofs between the sodden trees,
The woods, rising in a feathery hedge
Above the whitened pasture slopes. . .
February, wrapped in a snowy mantle,
Passed out in a burst of sunshine
To make room for the month
Of the Spring!
(1927)
Since there are no diary entries until November 2nd, I’ll take the next few days to describe how I discovered that Ella Fisher was the author of the diary. I’d never done local history research before, and wasn’t sure how to begin–but I began with a connection to HeritageQuest, online access to the US census from 1790-1920+. This was available free, through my library. All I had to go on were the first names of the diarist’s husband, Henry, and the names of what I presumed were children: Gertrude, Henrietta, Benjamin and Anna. Grace and Helen were often mentioned, but since Grace was a teacher and Helen often helped with housework, I wondered if they were boarders. (In the “Accounts” listed in the back of the diary, $4 per week was received as “board.”) Since the diary contained references to Vergennes, Ferrisburgh and “the lake,” I decided that the diarist lived in the Ferrisburgh area, so I looked at the entire 1900 census for Ferrisburgh, and found nothing.
So–I searched for “Henry.” There were 3078 Henrys in Vermont in 1900, 218 of them in Addison County. For a first pass, I narrowed it down to men who lived around Ferrisburgh and were between 45 and 60 years old, because the diarist recorded her own 47th birthday.
The 23rd Henry who fit my criteria was Henry P. Fisher of Vergennes. I clicked on his name, called up the record, and there it was:
Henry, age 51 and Ella W. his wife–age 47. And their children: Ruth B. — 25, Grace P.–18, Helen F.–16, Gertrude C.–14, Henrietta B.–10, Benjamin W.–9. and Anna R.–7. I don’t remember if I woke my husband to tell him that I’d found them, but I did get up and do a little dance, alone in my study.
Here’s another poem that seems a good reminder these difficult days:
THE ATOM
Babbling and pottering
In the dust and rubbish
Of his little littered shops,
Delving and planning
For the swift brief span
Of his swift brief life!
He never lifts his eyes
To the peaks and domes
Of the everlasting hills,
Missing all their grandeur,
Missing all their beauty,
As they stretch away
And mingle with the skies!
Vast silences!
Brooding solitudes
Filled with little voices!
Wind among the tree tops,
Sighing and whispering
In leaves among the branches,
Calling and fluting
Of silver throated songsters,
Foot falls of furry things
Ranging in their freedom,
High aloft an eagle
Soaring in the either,
Gurgling of mountain springs
Hastening on a mission,
Going to fill a river bed
In some age-old ravine!
Vast silences
Enthroned beneath the stars!
Luring, ever calling
To something somewhere hidden
In the heart of every man!
The Atom, ever busy
Never lifts his eyes,
Pottering and planning
Amid the dust and rubbish
Of his little littered shops!
~from “Green Mountain Echoes,” 1927
Filed under: Introduction
After discovering that Ella Fisher was the author of the diary, I paid a visit to the Vergennes City Clerk’s Office. The folks there showed me how to use the old books with their (mostly) elegant handwritten notices of births and marriages, deaths and burials. I learned a great deal in the couple of hours I spent looking through those records. I was also led back into the census, and to the Prospect Cemetery, where many members of the family are buried. Here’s what I found out about Ella and Henry:
Ella Warner was born on January 29, 1853, in Ferrisburgh, the daughter of Hector Warner and Zeruah Barnes. She had two sisters, Carrie, who was seven years younger, and Helen, who was ten years younger. In 1870, when she was 17, she was living with her parents and teaching school. That was also the year she married Henry P. Fisher. She died October 11, 1937, at the age of 84.
Henry Fisher was born September 30, 1848, in Waltham, the son of George Fisher and Martha Steadman. In 1900, he was a farmer, but at various other times was a deputy sheriff, a sheriff and a lumberman. In 1900 he was also Overseer of the Poor in Vergennes. He died November 12, 1916, at the age of 68, and was buried in Prospect Cemetery, with his wife. I learned from his tombstone that he was in CoB, 5th Vt Volunteers.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., March 6 Storming hard all day & we wash dry our clothes out doors in the blizzard. Election day. Tuttle does not come home at all; boards at Ketchums.
The traditional Town Meeting Day snowstorm. Remember that in 1900 women could not vote.
Reading Ella’s diary I got the impression that the family was financially comfortable, though not wealthy. Ella very rarely expressed feelings in her diary–but here is a poem expressing her strong feelings about money!
MONEY MAD
Jingle! Jingle!
Stamped pieces of metal
Cold to the touch,
Rich man and beggar
Hasten to clutch.
Illiterate and scholar
Flushed and enrapt,
Snared and entrapped
By the hard clinking dollar.
Jingle! Jingle!
To money mad man
Valleyward speeding,
Rushing to clutch
Signals unheeding. . .
“Fame is a bauble,
Love is a dream,
God’s on a journey,
Gold is agleam.”
Jingle! Jingle!
Cold is the valley,
Mists rolling near;
Stamped pieces of metal
Like wraiths disappear.
At the end of life’s span
Illiterate or scholar,
Poor is the man
Who chased the hard dollar.
I recently read an obituary in the newspaper of another of Ella’s descendants–and I now know that there are three great-great grandchildren for me to track down. I’m waiting to discover that somewhere back when I’m related to her. It wouldn’t surprise me; my great-grandparents had a farm in Ferrisburgh, after all.
Here is Ella’s November poem, from the book “Homeland in the North.” Tomorrow I will post a diary entry, at last!
NOVEMBER
Dark clouds are driven across the sky
As the mournful winds go fitfully by;
They whisper and wail thru the branches bare,
They fret and sting in the frosty air,
And secrets they tell as they searching pass
Where the leaves lie thick on the sodden grass.
In some vast amphitheatre, some awful height,
The forces of air have gathered in might;
Adown the wild November sky
In solid phalanx their horsemen fly,
They have blotted the sun in the murk of night;
I hear the carousal of mad delight,
Their hoofbeats against the window pane,
As they drench the earth with sheets of rain.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
I’d thought about waiting until January first to start posting the diary, but decided to start here, since the record of a daily life can start anywhere. This is what Ella Fisher wrote on November 2, 1900–quite prosaic, as many entries are:
Fri., Nov. 2 Go up to Ashton’s. Stay to supper. They are packing everything.
I didn’t know that the Ashton mentioned so often in the diary was Ella’s oldest child until I saw the city records. Ashton Fisher was born October 14, 1872, in Vergennes. He was married to Hattie Newman. In 1900 Ashton was a “boat engineer” and he and Hattie had no children. In 1910 he was working as a chauffeur, and he and Hattie had two daughters, aged 9 and 7 (their names might have been Pearl and Lou, but in the census the writing was so blurred that I could not decipher them). I suspect Hattie was pregnant at least by the end of 1900–if so, Ella was expecting her first grandchild. I could find no record of Ashton in the census after 1910. According to the Vergennes burial records, he died of a gunshot wound in Saratoga Springs on November 26, 1932, and his body was returned to Vergennes. I didn’t discover how his death came about until I met his nephew’s widow.
Sat, Nov 3 Work hard all day. Mother too sick to sit up. Ashton, Hattie, Lu, the dog & the Baby come to supper. Call Doctor Willard for Mother.
I don’t know who Lu and the baby are. Before I looked at the census records, I thought perhaps they were Ashton & Hattie’s children, but in the 1900 census, Hattie Fisher was “the mother of 0 children,” and in the 1910 census, their oldest child was 9.
This poem is from “Homeland in the North.”
TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER
“A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.”
Ill and helpless, white and still,
A little child was lying,
While behind the western hills
The day was softly dying.
A mother bent above the bed,
An Angel questing there,
And watchers waiting for the end
Heard the voice of prayer . . .
She clasped the unresisting hands . . .
“I lay me down to sleep. . .
Say it for mother, dear,” she said,
“. . .This precious soul to keep.”
Slowly the closed eyes opened . . .
A flash of love and light . . .
Like curtain raised and dropped again . . .
Like closing down of night.
The Angel’s arms were empty
When she sought her place above . . .
She left the child to satisfy
A mother’s deathless love.
l’envoi
The Angel has taken from that room
Thru silent years bereft . . .
Of the group who waited in the gloom
Only the child is left!
[About 1858]
(I assume that the date refers to the event described.)
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun, Nov 4 Willard comes twice to-day. Wait on Mother pretty close & sleep on the floor at night. Have a good dinner & supper but have to work all day. Ashton takes (??) to Ben’s.
Dr. Willard makes occasional appearances in the diary. In the notes at the end, Ella wrote:
Willard advised for Anna Nagus Cordial. I’ve not yet discovered what that was.
Note: When a word is enclosed in (), as the question marks are above, it means that I could not decipher Ella’s usually clear handwriting, and am guessing. A question mark, as in this case, means I didn’t have a clue!
Mon, Nov 5 Hattie & Lu go to White River Junction on morning train. Ashton here to an early dinner. I drive him to the station at 10 o’clock. Call at Mrs. Pierce’s & get Hattie’s begonia. Tuttle goes to Middlebury.
In the “Accounts” section in the back of the diary, Ella listed “Board–$4.00,” as income every week. Recently I learned that the “Tuttle” mentioned here was the boarder, as well as a family friend and lawyer. Also in the back of the diary are addresses for Ashton. I don’t know where he was going, but maybe it was to one of these places:
Ashton
No 3 (blotted) View Terrace
Morris Heights
New York
N. S. Torpedo Station
Newport R.I.
c/o Bailey
and another address that I think might refer to Ashton, given his occupation as “boat engineer:”
D P MacQueen
Mohawk
(?) & Detroit: Mt
Clymers & New York
of the Skenectady Locomotion works
Kid Wilds, Pilot
Here’s a poem Ella wrote several years later that reminds me of Ashton’s leaving. It’s from “Homeland in the North:”
THE NIGHT EXPRESS
Like the sweep of the wind in the tree tops
With a lonely sobbing sound,
Rushing away in the distance
With a tremor that shakes the ground,
The night express at the crossing
Is sending a warning bray
Across the moonlit meadows
As it rolls on its mission away.
Tonight it carries a passenger,
One of my very own,
It leaves me a bit of a heartache
As I sit in the shadows alone . . .
The sweep of the wind grows fainter
As the wheels roll on and on,
“Til the train that has taken my loved one
Into the silence has gone.
(June 16, 1929)
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
No diary entries for these days. I was thinking on Tuesday that in 1900 Ella Fisher couldn’t vote. I wonder what she would think of all this?
Many of Ella’s poems were written about night. Could this be because she had eight children? Here’s one from “Green Mountain Echoes:”
NIGHT
Night’s silvered feet steal over the hill
And all the noisy world grows still,
Deep shadows trail in her somber gown,
A crescent moon lights her starry crown,
She lures me with compelling charm . . .
As my lost Mother’s gentle arm
Enfolded her child in measureless rest,
To fall asleep on her healing breast.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., Feb 27 Wash & mop. The Wannamaker (sic) cape comes up again like a nightmare. A lovely day, but very cold. Mrs. Andrews makes me a lovely call. Mr. Baker also waiting for the key makes us a short visit.
This is one of my favorite entries–a mystery. Wanamaker‘s was a department store in Philadelphia; a couple of my friends who used to live in that area remember it fondly. When I first read this, I thought that maybe the cape blew around her ankles strangely, but later, when I looked at the “accounts” in the back of the diary, things got a little more clear. Here it is:
On Ella’s trip to Burlington, she bought a coat for Helen and a cape for herself–presumably it came from Wanamaker’s and was sold in a Burlington store. The cape cost $21.00. Her boarder (Tuttle) paid $4 a week, shoes cost $1.00, the weekly groceries were less than $2.00 (but they grew lots of their own food)–you get the picture! I think Henry “brought up” the matter of the cape periodically. My husband thinks that Ella felt guilty about buying it, but given what I’m learning about this mother of 8 whose daily work is something I cannot begin to imagine, I’m fairly certain that she was confident that the cape was something she deserved!
Since I spent most of the day at a meeting for Vermont library trustees, I thought I’d post this poem that Ella Fisher read at the laying of the corner stone for the Bixby Memorial Library in Vergennes on September 21, 1911. When I was high school, I attended a music festival in Vergennes, and during a break, wandered into town and went into the Bixby Library. I was especially excited when I discovered that it had been dedicated in 1912, the year in which the musical “The Music Man” was set. As I was in the cast of that show at Essex Junction High School (in 1966), I tried to imagine what it would be like to be a librarian in Vergennes in 1912. I also took notes about the dedication ceremonies, which I have, alas, lost somewhere. (Another reason to make another trip or so to the Bixby to do research.) Anyway, here’s the poem:
LAYING THE CORNER STONE
We have gathered in the sunshine
“Neath the blue September sky,
With yon cloud-capped mountain setting
And the river rolling by;
And perchance there are some in Heaven
Who once this place have known,
Who would like to bend and listen
As we lay this corner stone.
Fit spot for a temple of knowledge
On this beautiful sloping lawn,
With its great trees whispering overhead
And its entrance facing the dawn,
Where many feet may go in and out;
The weary, the sated and old,
And eager boys and girls who seek
For the aid its shelves will hold.
And when the hues of sunset
Entranced the senses hold,
And all its western windows
Shine out like burnished gold,
When evening shadows stealing
And stars in the heaven shine,
And man for a hand of guiding
Comes in touch with the Divine,
It is then we may remember
This pleasant place of rest,
And find the thoughts of other men
Whose feet the way have pressed;
Who have struggled with the problems
We are daily called to meet;
They have traced the opening chapters—
We may the book complete.
And shall we not gladly cherish
A memory true and fond,
Of one who has crossed the portal
To the unknown world beyond?
‘Tis a privilege and a duty
To honor his name to-day,
Whose generous gift enables us
This corner stone to lay.
His thought went out to benefit
The people he lived among,
And tho so few of them understood,
Warm in his heart it sung;
This quiet one of the blameless life
Who planned for others cheer,
Will continue to live in other lives
With every passing year.
And when the subtle changes come
That over towns will creep,
And when our children’s children
In quiet graves do sleep;
This beautiful hall will still be here
A blessing to mankind,
In whose treasures every passer-by
A helpfulness may find.
O, sons and daughters of old Vergennes
And part of a noble state,
Whose bracing air and grand blue hills
Lead up to Heaven’s gate;
You are sharers in this benefit–
For you this liberal plan;
May you rise to fill your privilege
And help your fellow man.
When all the wealth and pomp of earth
Like mists have passed away,
When fanes and domes and spires
In dust and ashes lay;
The deeds of love from man to man
On Eternity’s boundless shore,
In fadeless glory still will shine
As stars forever more.
To-day as we stand on the hillside
‘Neath the blue September sky,
Framed in by the western mountains
And the river rolling by;
May we come within the radiance
Around the Great White Throne,
For the faith, the hope and charity,
As we lay this corner stone.
Ground was broken for the new Town Office and Library in New Haven this past week–there was no ceremony, and no corner stone. Maybe we’ve lost something. . .
Fri, Nov. 9 Mother comes down stairs the first time.
How did she manage? All those kids, and housework, and church work, and sleeping on the floor near her sick mother. . . It’s easy to romanticize those days, but I’m glad we have antibiotics and washing machines.
And here’s a poem from “Homeland in the North:”
NOVEMBER SHADOWS
We were gathered ’round the table
With chrysanthemums abloom
And softly fell the candle light
On the objects in the room.
The cups came back to be refilled
At Grand-dame’s age-old tray,
Thru long and hidden years
In the attic stored away.
They were genial friendly faces,
To us grown near and dear,
They had filled the flying hours
With badinage and cheer.
They went their separate ways,
But a sense of something rare
That was not here before
Was left upon the air.
It could not be the rain
Against the shaded window pane.
But just beyond the circle
Where the light but dimly shone
I saw the flitting shadows
Of dear ones I have known
Who once were gathered with us,
Broke bread with us and smiled . . .
With badinage and laughter
The flying hours beguiled.
They have passed into the Silence,
But their presence lingers still
For I saw their flitting shadows
patiently awaiting
Our vacant chairs to fill.
It could not be the rain
Against the shaded window pane.
Note the link to Google Books– “Idylls of Champlain” appears there, if you’d like to read it all.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat, Nov. 10 Bake, mop &ct. Go down street P.M. Iron in the evening.
Many of Ella’s entries are this prosaic–the details of her daily life. She very rarely records her feelings–quite unlike most “journaling” done today!
Sun, Nov, 11 Attend church & take my class. Church cold.
Here’s a poem from “Green Mountain Echoes.” This book was published in 1927, after WWI. This poem is a good one for Veteran’s Day:
THE TOLL OF WAR
The sunlight lies warm on the talking brook
Where it runs o’er its bed of stone,
The breeze still whispers among the trees
Where I sit and dream alone.
We strolled away on a moonlit path,
The brook was a silver thread;
It wound and wound thru the meadow grass,
We cared not where it led.
It talked and rippled and rushed away,
Away o’er its bed of stone;
The pain of parting was on our hearts,
Like nothing we had known.
A little breeze told our spoken plans
Where great trees listening stand,
They rustled and whispered above our heads
But we did not understand.
What they said to us that moonlit night
As we for the future planned;
The toll they knew that must be paid
Too well I understand.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Yesterday, while poking through the Vermont Collection at the New Haven Library, I found a copy of “Green Mountain Echoes.”
My “to do” list today includes: laundry, iron, defrost freezer, work on 23 Things!
Mon, Nov. 12 Iron A. M. Wash P.M.
There are no entries until the 17th.
I meant to include this poem on November 4th–it’s about the Great Flood of 1927, and is published in “Castles in Memory.”
AWAKENED VERMONT
We slept secure among the hills,
Our streams were fed by mountain rills,
To the safety of our sheltered vales
There often came most harrowing tales
Of flood and famine and sore distress,
And heart-throb calls of S. O. S.
To us came the glory of autumn days,
Our hills with beauty were all ablaze.
The breath of summer was lingering late
And vacation spirit hung over the State.
We scarcely heeded the lowering sky,
The mutter of storm clouds rolling high,
The lurid glare of the angry west,
The blood-red sun as it sank to rest.
We were not dismayed by a day of rain
As it clamored and beat at our window’s pane,
But muttering voices of little rills
Came warningly down among the hills,
They raced to the rivers, rising high,
And the rain still poured from a leaden sky.
The waters went mad as dams gave way,
They swept the valleys that fatal day,
Dark lowering clouds hung over the race
To hide the Spectre keeping the pace . . .
Fields and meadows were swept and then
Barns and bridges and homes of men.
None of these things their fury withstood . . .
The valleys are strewn with kindling wood!
The valleys are strewn with the toil of years
And sorrows are there too deep for tears,
The clouds still hang in a threatening sky
As tho to hide where the pale dead lie.
Above the waters and their trail of woe
The whelming waves of sympathy flow . . .
O, let us give praise to the Father above
For the hearts of gold and the hands of love!
For the aid and shelter that the homeless await
The length and breadth of our busy State!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat, Nov. 17 Bake, mop &ct. Go down street P.M. Carrie sends me a lovely hat, & some small things for the children.
After I discovered that Ella lived in Vergennes, I tried to find out where. I wasn’t up to looking through all the real estate records in the City Hall, and I couldn’t find any helpful maps. I was talking with a Waltham friend about this and he told me that when his son was young, and had to walk home from school because he missed the school bus, he stopped occasionally at the Fisher Flower Farm to pick a few flowers as a peace offering for his mother. When we first moved to New Haven, there was still a “Fisher Flower Farm” sign in front of a lovely old house in Vergennes. When I had my first conversation with the widow of Ella’s grandson, she said that that house was indeed the family home. I’ll stop there soon, and ask if I can take a photo of it to post here. It is an easy walk–somewhat uphill–to the “down street” Ella writes about.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun., Nov. 18 Attend church, 6 of us. Write letters after dinner, 6 of them. Something unusual.
For a long time, I assumed that the church Ella attended was the Congregational Church, and her grandson’s widow told me that the Fishers, as far as she knew, were Congregationalists. However, when I started looking for Ella’s books online, I found (and bought) ONE copy of her little (undated) book, “A History of First Baptist Church, Vergennes.” According to the book, the church was organized in January, 1869. She wrote “In January, 1876, Rev. Charles Hibbard of Chester was asked to become pastor. Fourteen years of mission work in Burmah (sic) had undermined his health, but he remained four years, raised funds to complete the church building and finish the basement ready for occupancy. It was dedicated and supposed to be free from debt. The contract had been let to E. H. Daniels, in accordance with certain specifications, and to suit the ideas of men who did not realize what it meant for a small, struggling body of worshippers to keep and care for such a large building.”
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Yesterday when I was poking around online trying to see if a copy of Ella’s “New Sketchbook” was available anywhere, I discovered that the Sheldon Museum has a whole collection of Fisher family diaries–from Ella (including entries describing her attempts to get published!), Henry (even before he married her), Ashton, Grace and Ruth (children whom I have not posted entries about–more on them later)! So I’m heading to the Sheldon later this week to see if I can copy some of their stuff to add to this collection–and to share what I have with them. What fun! Here also is a photo I took of the inscription Ella wrote in the front of my copy of “Green Mountain Echoes.” Doesn’t she have lovely handwriting?
Tues., Nov. 20 Mop, hang clothes, lamps; &ct. Not feeling extra well.
And here is a poem from “Green Mountain Echoes.”
MORE DESIRABLE THAN GOLD
To have and to hold
Do you know the power of gold?
Do you know it can embitter
Life’s beauty with its glitter?
Have you marked its alluring clink,
Seen a man walk . . .and think . . .
Wrapped and obsessed,
Possessed
By its lure?
Are you sure
That its glitter will not get you?
Like a loadstone beset you,
Will not subtly leave its trace
In the lines of your face . . .
The vision in your eyes,
And shrivel the fabric
Of life’s dearest ties?
II
To have and to hold
There are things in the world
More desirable than gold.
Love that is true,
Time’s web shining through,
Regardless of gain,
Nor flinching the pain
Of life.
Outlasting the strife,
The suffering and fears
Of the long changing years . . .
Earth-ways refining,
Steadily shining . . .
To have and to hold
More desirable than gold!
That Ella and Henry’s oldest son, Ashton, died of a gunshot wound in 1932 I knew early on, from the City Hall records. I learned later that the wound was self-inflicted. The information in the archives at the Sheldon Musuem indicates that Ashton Fisher committed suicide because he “lost everything in the stock market crash.” I wonder if this poem of his mother’s (the book was published in 1927) reflects some concern about her son’s money-making activities? Perhaps in a later diary, I’ll discover the answer.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Nov. 21 Wash windows, mop shed &ct. Still not feeling well. Grace goes to Burlington & Henry to Montpelier. Taken violently sick. Have doctor Gibson in the night.
Thurs., Nov. 22 Lie very still in bed all day. It never rains it pours. Sorrows never come singly. Doctor here twice to day. Henry comes at night & he is sick.
Poor Ella! Here’s a poem from “Homeland in the North.”
ILLNESS
Swaying drunkenly
In the top of a tree
That stands on the shore
Of a fretful sea,
While the waves
Are droning
Incessantly . . .
It is no far cry
To the waves below,
The ceaseless moaning,
The ebb and flow . . .
It would be so easy
To must let go . . .
When the tide goes out
To drift away
To some far port
At the shut of day,
Where all the broken
And helpless lie
Under the murk of a darkening sky,
Awaiting the day
When the Healer of men
Goes down that way.
Yesterday I saw Mrs. F–the widow of Ella’s grandson–and I borrowed from her a copy of “The New Sketch Book”–the one book of Ella’s that’s not available anywhere. I’m copying it so that I can post bits of it. It’s a kind of “Spoon River Anthology,” with sketches of people she knew as well as people she made up. Very different from her other books. Mrs. F. also told me that she has never seen a photograph of Ella, alas! Another project!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., Nov. 23 Lie still all day & can have no food. Doctor comes once today. Pay him $3.50 for this and .50 on old acct. A beautiful day outdoors.
My, hasn’t the practice of medicine changed!
Sat, Nov. 24 Another fine day. Don’t feel very well, but get up & dress & get down into the sitting room.
There are no entries until December 2nd.
Here’s a poem from “The New Sketch Book,” about a small-town doctor.
NORMAN TOUSLEY
Some men fit the profession they choose,
Some men fit into other men’s shoes,
I prefer my own for they lead straight,
They keep me moving, early and late.
No one dreams that a doctor needs sleep,
That he’s not like other men but must keep
On the move all day and then all night,
With disease and death in a losing fight.
Riding in the darkness over some rough road,
Watching a life fade out in some sad abode
Where no earthly skill the patient can save.
Is it any wonder that I look grave?
My life has been a fight, many storms I braved,
I worked day and night, many lives I saved . . .
Some there are who are living still,
A tribute to my work and skill!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Feb 28 A stormy day. Anna awakes early with the earache & (drinks? grumps? can’t make it out) all day. Make doughnuts & do a little mending.
I just found this poem in “The New Sketch Book,” which was published in 1933. Remember that Ella’s son Ashton committed suicide in 1932, after the stock market crash. The odd line breaks are hers. (It’s actually just two stanzas, with ‘Truth is a stupendous thing. . .” beginning the second stanza. I couldn’t figure out how to indent the lines without making each indentation look like a new verse.)
BENAJAH FERRIS
I may not be heard because of my flowery language,
But I may be heard because I speak the truth!
Truth hurts no one but the guilty or the sly soul who col-
- lects his Lord’s money and takes out a commission
for himself.
Why are positions of trust given to the greedy and ava-
- ricious?
Why do women’s societies and churches make stewards
- of the dishonest?
Why are incompetent persons chosen as leaders, and then
- why need any one marvel when business firms go
bankrupt, clubs are disrupted and organizations go
out of existence?
Truth is a stupendous thing, hardly to be credited and it
- hurts no one but the guilty!
Thurs., March 1 Storms all day. Children go to school in the morning but come home at noon through the storm and stay. No going to prayer meeting tonight.
And a poem for March, from “Homeland in the North.” Venus was so bright last night!
MARCH
Born of Winter, cradled in Spring,
March has had his wayward fling.
Gales of clouds athwart the sky,
Winds of passion riding high,
Falling snow and pelting rain,
Freezing temperature back again.
Venus throned, in glory dressed,
Brilliant star of evening’s west,
Moonlit heaven without a cloud,
Northern Lights in ghostly shroud,
Frosted world in feathers done
Glistening in the morning sun.
Days of gloom and days of gray,
Mist-hung hills shut far away. . .
March is weeping. . . moving slow. . .
We were hoping he would go!
Sun., Dec. 2 Attend church.
Pretty exciting, eh? But here’s a poem that I like very much. It’s from “Homeland in the North.”
GRAY DAYS
From November’s mist and fog
We rolled in the dark of night
To December’s fog and mist
And a day of dim gray light,
Black pointing fingers lifted high
Were searching vainly for the sky.
Wind-swept trees, whose foliage lies
A carpet for the snows,
Still held within the sullen clouds
That pause in drifting rows
Upon the mountain tops to rest
And whiten all their rugged crest.
Where once adown the valley’s length
Summer’s lavish beauty shone,
Denuded vines and empty nests
Whose builders long have flown . . .
In sunnier climes they now sojourn
And keep their songs for spring’s return.
And we in loneliness must wait
The nightfall of each day;
With hopeful hearts and busy hands
We’ll drive the gloom away . . .
The saddest days of all the year
When winter’s night is drawing near!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., Dec. 3 Henry kills the pigs. Mother carries Grace to her school. Go down to Mr. Bartlett’s to teachers meeting.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., Dec. 4 Sort meat. Cut up lard & grind sausages.
I’ve yet to find a poem of Ella’s about dealing with food. Today I’m going back to the Sheldon Museum to look at another diary, and to apply for permission to post things from other diaries.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Dec 6 Wash all day. Make head cheese &ct. Attend prayer meeting in the evening. Henry goes to Burlington P.M. & back on the last train. Mother finishes the sausage.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., Dec. 7 Work all day about the house. Mother sews. Finish the meat business. Henry goes after Grace. She was sick yesterday & could not teach school. Mend in the evening.
I discovered while reading Ella’s 1932 diary that Grace was then a member of a club in Vergennes. I knew that the late mother of a friend of mine had been a member of that club, so I asked the friend if she remembered Grace. She did, and said that her mother had known Grace well, since they shared a love of flowers. “Grace was a real lady,” she said.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Dec. 8 Make pumpkin pies, bathe children. Attend to the S. S. lesson. Sick tonight & hurry off to bed.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun., Dec. 9 Storming & blowing. Attend church 5 of us. Write to Ashton, Hattie & Ruth. Very cold. Wind goes through the house like a seive. (sic)
Pretty much exactly like it is today.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., March 2 Still storming. Clears up toward night. No missionary meeting. Plough comes up at night. Children all stay at home from school. Snow between 2 & 3 feet deep with drifts to 6 & 8 feet high.
In like a lion. Sound familiar?
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., March 3 The sun shines to-day. The world out of doors is beautiful. Bake bread & pies. Benjamin & I drive down street. Call on Mrs. Harris, Mrs. (G?y), Mrs. Aiken. Settle up some old scores. S. S. lesson.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun., March 4 Commences to storm during service, & blows hard from the north. Path full & we wade home. Write to Ruth.
When did people stop using the word “commence?”
There is no entry for 1900 today, so here’s some catch-up from 1898, the earliest diary I’ve found for Ella. Someday I’ll get all these organized here, maybe–but I did find information in bits and pieces myself, so I suppose this is a way of sharing my experience with you readers.
All these are courtesy of the research center at the Henry Sheldon Museum in Middlebury. They also have copies of “The Vermonter,” a magazine which (I assume) preceded Vermont Life. (Check it out sometime–Horsford Nursery has ads in it, in the 1920′s.) I’ve been finding Ella’s poems in it, here and there.
Tues., Feb. 15 Hattie & I wash & mop. Go over with Bob & set up Hattie’s stove in one end of the house. Piece on quilt.
Wed., Feb. 16 Finish quilt & commence some broom (bags?). Make bread, cake & doughnuts. Anna has a little birthday supper & gets a (mug?) and a pair of new stockings. Hattie irons. Storming hard & drifting.
Sat., Feb. 19 Go down to the church in the evening. Bring home things left from the sale. The society clears about $75.00
Mon., Feb. 21 Wash & mop. Put on a quilt. Henry & Ashton go to Snake Mt. Gertrude’s birthday. Get her a hair ribbon & a good comb.
Wed., Feb. 23 Tie off comforter. Make mince meat. Hattie’s hand begins to swell up & pain her.
Thurs., Feb. 24 Hattie has a bad hand & I do the housework. Benjamin breaks the dining room window.
Fri., Feb. 25 Storming. Make mince pies in the morning. Sick in the afternoon & do not work. Tuttle puts in the broken window pane.
Sat., Feb. 26 Still storming. Make bread, cake, doughnuts & cookies. Bathe children. Hang pictures in sitting room & dining room. Henry & Ashton come home wet & tired.
Sun., Feb. 27 . . .A very poor day, can just crawl around. Not able to write letters.
Mon., Feb. 28 Make me an apron & finish one for Grace. Hattie & Ashton at work on their house. Go after dinner & help them paper. . .
MARCH
Tues., March 1 Hattie & Ashton finish their papering & move over their goods. Finish 2 more work aprons. Commence a night dress for Anna.
and in the side margin: Henry trades Nobbin for George Lindsey’s horse & goes to Snake Mt.
Wed., March 2 Hattie & I wash. Henry buys Ashton a horse at the Harris auction . . .
Thurs., March 3 A very beautiful day. Hattie & I go down street in the morning. Helen stays with children & gets dinner. We go to Taylor’s to look at goods. Buy a chair & a few dishes. Have a terrible sick headache.
Sat., March 5 Paint frames. Make bread & pies. Bathe children. Go down street. Get a rocker at Taylor’s & a pair of new shades for the parlor. Ashton comes home from the Mt.
There are no diary entries until December 21st. Here’s a poem about snow, from “Homeland in the North.” I love the word “amethistine.”
THE SNOW IN VERMONT
Do you know
The beauty of Vermont
Beneath the snow?
How white it lies!
How deep!
Along the valleys
Where ice bound rivers sleep!
Have you seen it glisten in the sun,
Diamonds in its white web spun?
Have you seen
The sheen
Of sunrise
Painted on the morning skies?
Seen it touch the towering crest
Of the mountains in the west,
Seen them turn to molten gold,
Amethistine tints unfold. . .
All their craggy banners flaunt
To guard the vales of white Vermont?
Have you seen the Northern Lights
On clear cut winter nights,
When the stars like angels’ eyes
Watching from the midnight skies,
Ward to keep
While mortals sleep. . .
Watching o’er the little things
On wings
In the shelter of the pines,
Where the wind always stills
And the roadway winds
Between the hills?. . .
Where homesteads nestle warm
When the storm
Beats and drifts
In long white rifts?
Do you know
The beauty of Vermont
Beneath the snow?
Here’s a curious poem from “Green Mountain Echoes.” I imagine Mt. Mansfield, which Ella could see from her house, and the foothills around it, the “children at its feet.”
SPIRIT OF THE NORTH
Spirit of the rugged North,
Diamond crowned with snow,
Moving in the storm clouds
Singing as you go!
Snow clad heights eternal
Guard your dwelling place!
Shining vales and valleys
Mirror back your face!
You bestow upon the children
Sitting at your feet,
The mantle of your majesty
Where silences are sweet.
Their luring songs are ringing
In cadence down the world,
The rhythm of their beauty
In the Nation’s heart encurled!
Here Freedom plants her banners,
Her puissant bulwarks rise. . .
They catch the white etherial light
Of Heaven’s templed skies!
Spirit of the rugged North,
Diamond crowned with snow,
Moving in the storm clouds
Singing as you go!
This is my mother’s 87th birthday, so here is one of Ella’s poems–a rather sentimental one–in her honor. It’s from “Green Mountain Echoes.”
MOTHER
We can have but one mother,
Her love is like a halo,
All our days it follows us.
Her prayers weave about us
Threads of gossamer stronger than steel.
They protect us in illness
And shield us from danger,
While we, unconscious of their existence,
Forge through life and never understand.
Ministration, anxiety and pain
Take their toll from Mother’s life,
There comes a time when her steps falter,
Her loving hands drop their tasks,
She yields to peace and rest and stillness
And Mother passes out of our lives.
Memory waits to give us comfort,
In the folds of her somber robes
Are garlands of beautiful flowers,
She extends to us love and service
That we pass it on.
Her soft whisper is a reminder
That through the storms of life
A mother has woven for us
Threads of gossamer stronger than steel.
Fri., Dec. 21 School closes for two weeks.
Here’s a poem from the book “Castles in Memory,” published in 1931 by the Driftwind Press in North Montpelier, Vermont. Walter J. Coates wrote in the Introduction, “Mrs. Fisher has put together here some of her impressions concerning the relics and life values about her. Her interpretations are true Vermontiana, for she brings back to our eyes and minds not only the old landmarks, but makes olden institutions rise before us in their pristine color, endows them with real spirit, and peoples the mellow hills and vales of her Champlain country with folk pictures long since departed and forgotten.”
THE WEBSTER SCHOOL HOUSE
Close to the rutted road it stands,
Part of the rocks of Ferrisburg,
Built when the town was young
And homes of the pioneers
Stood closer together than now.
It must have been fine to see
When the old school house was new
With its desks of virgin pine,
Fragrant clean and white,
Its windows all alight
In the gold of the morning sun!
The platform and the desk
Where the teacher sat in state,
A presence and a power,
With an extra chair at her side,
Where the unlucky boy or girl
Could sit thru the study hour
And calm a restless spirit down
To the lessons for the day.
The day of the hard wood ruler,
Innocent when lying still
But a weapon of solemn import
To express the teacher’s will.
It rapped on the sash for school to convene,
It rapped on the desk for attention,
It called the children into line
From the blue Webster book
To spell and define,
It recalled the mischievous to study again . . .
Tho few there were to complain.
On a bench near the door
The water pail stood
Brought from a neighbor’s well.
“Please may I pass the water?”
A piping voice would say,
And the favored one passed down
The aisles with a brimming cup,
Face wreathed in smiles,
While each one drank and never knew
That germs might mingle in the brew
From the old tin drinking cup.
And so the generations passed
And children’s children went to school.
The old house stood, but beating years
Made seams in its walls
Of ferrisburg stone.
The winds have warped its wooden roof,
The rain drips in and loneliness.
No children pass thru its old scarred door.
No classes line up on its worn out floor.
Grassed over depressions where cellars have been,
A pile of stone or a lilac clump,
Line the rutted road that runs today
Past the old school house
Standing close to the way.
By the way, the snowfall in this blog isn’t nearly as hard as it should be today.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun., Dec. 23 Attend church. Rehearsal takes the place of the S. S. Write Xmas letters until late.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., Dec. 24 Grace does not teach today. Go down to Mr. Bartlett’s & mark books for the S. S. Mrs. Woodman & Alice Ruscue there.
No last minute hectic shopping, no enormous batch of cookies to decorate–at least not that we know of.
Merry Christmas to anyone who stops by here!
Tues., Dec. 25 Tuttle goes to Montpelier & takes dinner with his father, we have a plain dinner of baked beans & brown bread. Grace & Helen help at the church P.M. In the evening we all attend the tree, 7 of us. My class gives me a lovely birthday book.
And a Christmas poem, from “Homeland in the North”:
CHRISTMAS TREE
(As in December)
White the snows may be lying
In splendor upon the lea,
Sadly the winds may be sighing
Out on the lonely sea.
O, they may be rude and snappy
In the Northlands making free!
But we shall be warm and happy
At home with the Christmas tree.
Low the skies may be bending,
Lowering on you and me,
But we shall be busy attending
To lading the Christmas tree.
We’ll keep the house fires lighted,
Some wanderer there will be
Once more at home united
Around the Christmas tree.
In darkness the world was lying,
Fettered and never free,
Sadly the winds went sighing
On the waves of Galilee.
Brilliant the light came shining,
Even to you and me,
Threads of gold intertwining
To garland our Christmas tree.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., Feb 23 Stormy. Drive down street P.M. Call at Mrs. Barnard’s, a moment on Hattie & at the Pierce door. Grace & Gertrude drive out to Satterly’s. Mend in evening.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Feb 24 Bake, mop, mend, bathe, & spend the rest of the time fetching Hud to her senses. The Pierce funeral at 3 P.M.
Remember that Gertrude (Hud) was about the same age as Flossie Pierce.
Mon., Jan. 1, 1900 Once more the pages of the New Year are clean and white. Once more I’ll start in to keep a diary and hope it won’t be half blank. This is a cold, stormy day. We wash & mop and at night the clothes are piled in a big chair. Stark as so many ghosts. Vittum and Middlebrook children here. Mend in the evening.
This is the entry that started my adventure with Ella Warner Fisher. I remember well standing in the shop with the little diary in my hands, reading this page and thinking, “What wonderful, clear language this is! I think I’ll buy this.” And it was over a year later that I learned she was a poet.
Here’s a poem from “Homeland in the North.”
ON NEW YEAR’S EVE
Like diamonds thru a veil
The city lights gleamed pale.
Around me lay a silence deep,
All the household hushed in sleep;
At my window fell the storm
While I sat watching for a form
Slowly vanishing from sight
In the shadows of the night.
The story long ago was told
How a form but one year old,
Bent with age, was seen to leave
At twelve o’clock on New Year’s Eve—
That one short year ago tonight
A happy infant crowned with light,
On wings of gossamer came down
While bells were ringing thru the town,
Churches echoed with praise and prayer
And music floated on the air,
While youth on eager tripping feet
The rythmic, lilting measure beat.
The bending skies the New Year kissed,
The storm so gentle, a fine white mist,
At my window a stillness deep,
The quiet household wrapped in sleep
And then the story I was told. . .
A vanishing form enfeebled and old,
Burdened and bent with the sins of men,
Bent with their woes, their blunders, and then
Bearing them all.. .I tried to see. . .
Into the vale of Eternity!
Happy New Year!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., Jan. 2 The children commence school & Henry carries Grace to her school She comes home at night and goes to the dance. Mend all the evening on Henry’s old coat.
Imagine a teacher going to a dance on a school night! Remember Henry’s old coat, by the way.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Jan. 3 Commence a skirt for Grace. Mend Henry’s cap, (etc) in the evening.
Thurs., Jan. 4 Attend prayer meeting, Helen & I.
In Alice Morse Earle’s book Customs and Fashions in Old New England, she writes of the “Thursday Lectures” which were very popular in Colonial times. I wonder if the Thursday prayer meeting was a remnant of that tradition?
Helen was the fourth Fisher child, born in 1883. She was married to Benjamin Franklin Smith, who died in 1918. After wondering whether he died in WWI or in the 1918 flu epidemic, I discovered a poem in “the New Sketch Book” which explains what happened to him. After becoming a widow, Helen lived with her mother and sister Grace in the family home, I think until her death in 1965.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN SMITH
As one suddenly translated,
So I passed out.
The Sabbath stillness;
The blue and smiling skies;
The shimmering water,
All lured me on.
Wrapped in a mighty peace
And thrilled with the joy of living,
Nature’s enticing voices
And the All Pervading
Blended my surroundings
In one grand symphony,
Of which I seemed a fitting part.
I knew no pain,
No sorrow whelmed my soul.
But with a mind keyed to enjoy,
In one brief moment
Earth and Heaven met
And face to face with God
I found the glorious reality
Of the perfect life.
Drowned at Delaware Water Gap, June 16, 1918
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., Jan. 5 Henry goes after Grace. Finish her skirt. It is warm & handsome.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Jan. 6 Make bread, pies & cake. Grace makes cookies. Mop kitchen & Helen the dining room. Bathe children, mend & study the S. S. lesson.
Sun., Jan 7 A strong south wind blowing. We have election of SS officers. Some difficulty in getting a Supt. & Mr (Cota) nominates brother Ketchum. Read and write a letter to Ruth.
Mon., Jan 8 Very cold north wind blowing. Carry Grace to her school & almost freeze. Go up to Woodmans P.M. Drive Jim. Try tallow, etc. Go to bed early, about sick.
According to information from the Sheldon Museum, Ruth was a teacher, and made some good investments that allowed her to travel extensively. She must have taken her mother along at least once because there are a number of poems in “Green Mountain Echoes” about Italy.
Here is one of them. It must have been a treat for the Ella who tried tallow and made sausages and headcheese in her younger days to be served beautifully:
SUNSET ON THE MEDITERRANEAN
The sunset flamed the western sky,
The waters lay fold on fold,
From the stern of the ship they fell away
Draped in cloth of gold.
Just thru the windows the tables stood
With spotless linen spread
And dinner waiting to be served . . .
With beauty we were fed.
Silent, we watched beside the rail
In the slowly fading light,
‘Til purpling shadows wrapt us round
In soft encircling night.
Jim is a horse, by the way.
Tues., Jan. 9 Wash, mop and iron. Squeeze out tallow, boil mincemeat.
And here, to celebrate the moon, is a poem from “Homeland in the North.” SO many of her poems are about night!
MOONLIT NIGHT
(As in January)
Earth holds no mystic beauty
To compare with moonlit night,
When the hills arrayed in ermine
Walk along the snow-ribbed height.
Battlemented, wrapped in splendor,
Panoplied with star-decked skies,
Guarding dark and hidden chambers
Portaled where some shadow lies.
Far below the snow-clad valley,
Sheened in waves of silver light,
With its sleeping homesteads cradled
In the arms of winter night.
Here and there the crash of falling
From some gnarled and aged tree,
And beyond the deathless rhythm
Of the surging, ceaseless sea.
O the beauty of the moonlight
On a world of fullered snow,
From the watcher on the hilltops
To the tides that ebb and flow!
On the steam cars waking echoes
From each frosted shrub and tree
To the frosted ships the nightly
Plow the waters of the sea.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Jan. 10 Grind mince meat; Hattie comes up P.M. & stays here til night. Mend &c. Cut & chop apples in the evening. The children sick.
Hattie is her daughter-in-law, remember, who might be pregnant.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Jan. 11 Mix & put away mince meat. Make pumpkin pies. Helen & I drive out to Robinson’s–have a delightful afternoon though very short. Almost frozen & go early to bed.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., Jan. 12 Do not feel well. Temperature is quite a little warmer & some snow fell during the night. Spend the day at Ashton’s & have a lovely, quiet-day. Mend & work on a nightdress for Grace. Sew a little in the evening. Make bread, etc.
I made a couple of aprons yesterday, thinking about how much sewing Ella did. I don’t know yet if she had a sewing machine, or did it all by hand. I suspect a treadle machine.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Jan. 13 Make bread 5 mince pies & doughnuts. Mop. Bath (sic) children Get S.S. lesson.
And here is the first page of the diary: 
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun, Jan. 14 A nice, warm day. Ashton & Hattie at church. The S.S. elect (Mr.) (Cotey) Supt.
And here’s what the outside of the diary looks like:
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., Jan. 15 Mild and pleasant. Drive Grace to her school. Stop & get the grocery bill of George Mc(Cuen).
Clean out siting room, parlor & hall. Read the children a story in the evening.
Ella kept accounts in the back of the diary. Here are the expenses for January, up till today:
Jan Paid
1 Pledge 1.00
4 tablet & pencils .10
“ calendar .18
“ shoulder braces .50
“ thread & pins .18
“ soap.Helen .25
“ Groceries 2.25
7 church .50
8 Express, Ruth .26
“ hooks & eyes .08
9 wash. Helen .25
8 mincemeat seasoning 1.68
12 Groceries 1.00
“ elastic &tc .24
14 church .35
“ Grace on bill .25
and here are receipts:
received
4 Board to date 4.00
“ eggs 1 1/2 dozen .54
“ chicken .40
“ rebate tickets .30
13 chickens 1.92
13 board to date 4.00
16 chickens .48
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
I’ve posted a new link: it’s the Diary of Ada May Grimshaw, who lived in Springfield, Vermont, in 1915. It’s fun to compare the two.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., Jan. 16 A pleasant day. Helen and I wash and mop.
And here’s one from January 15, 1898:
Sat. Jan. 15 Make 6 loaves of bread and 7 pies before breakfast. Go downstreet after dinner. Sweep front chambers & sitting room. Hattie sweeps hall & stairs. She & I make rugs, bathe children. Tired tonight. Snowing.
I don’t understand why she was tired!!!
There is no diary entry today, so here is a poem from “The New Sketch Book: an Anthology of Voices.” Remember that in the introduction to this book, Ella Fisher called the poems “samples of human nature, with no reference to, or reflection on any person, living or dead.”
ESTHER DUNN
Men look askance as I pass by,
Women whisper and children shy.
My eyes must ever carry a glint,
A barricade when steel meets flint . . .
Cool and aloof they pass me by . . .
If they are right, than (sic) what am I?
I know that God has forgiven me,
From the clutch of sin has set me free.
A mortal may sin and be forgiven
By all the hosts that sing in Heaven,
But there are those who walk the earth
Untarnished from the hour of birth,
To them a sinner must always stay
Just as they were some fatal day,
Some unguarded moments . . . . a step aside,
Imprudent and foolish. . . .a chasm wide
Has opened to guard the pure of earth,
Who walk untarnished from their birth
From contamination with one like me
Whom God has dared from sin to free!
O, I am glad He has forgiven
And made for me a place in Heaven!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Jan 18 Attend prayer meeting.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., Jan. 19 Dress 4 chickens and send to Ed Scott. Sew all P.M. on Hud’s shirtwaist. Mary Burroughs calls Lend her a years McClure’s & Munsey’s.1 Hud goes in a load to a sociable at Satterly’s & Grace comes home with her. Mud every where. Warm.
“Hud” is a nickname for Gertrude, who did not like her name. The Satterlys mentioned are the ones of Satterly Road in Ferrisburg. According to Mrs. F., Ella was related to them. McClure’s and Munsey’s were magazines.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun., Jan 21 A cold day & walks slippery. Small class but pleasant, profitable hour in the Sunday School. Read to Benjamin after dinner.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., Jan. 22 A cold day. Henry carries Grace to her school. Cut Anna a skirt.
Reading this diary, I finally made the connection with the words “carrying” and “carriage.” Duh.
Tues., Jan. 23 Wash and mop. Hud stays from school to help. Lay down in the evening. Make bread. Guess I am about sick.
And this, from “Homeland in the North.” Perhaps we’ve forgotten the pleasures of being “snowed in.”
A STORMY DAY
It is good to live
When the skies are blue
And the sunlight warm
Is filtering thru,
But I love the drift
Of the wintry storm,
Its rythmic beat
On my window pane,
Its sheath of white
On road and lane.
It blocks the traffic
For the day
And shuts the outside world
Away.
Among its pleasures
Are hoarded treasures,
Things stored away
In sunny weather
When work and play
Go on together.
Forgotten things of bygone years
That may bring smiles
Or may bring tears.
A day to browse
With memory keen,
A day of rest
From dull routine.
I welcome the eventide
When out of the north
The night creeps forth
On silent padded feet. . .
In my cosy ingle-nook,
With a shade light
And a worth-while book,
I list to the steady beat
Of the swirling storm outside.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Jan. 24 Find a little time to sew. Work on Anna’s dress.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Jan. 25 A dark day. Sew a little. Sweep 2 chambers. Rain in the evening. Hud and I attend prayer meeting. Rain freezes to everything it touches: the whole world, so far as I can see, is a glade of ice. My umbrella frozen together tears itself to peices (sic) when I raise it. Snowing when we go home. A good meeting. Mrs. Eagan makes a prayer. It is her first in a Protestant church.
This is one of my favorite entries–her simple “diary” language is so clear and vivid.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., Jan. 26 Swept one chamber & upper hall. Snow nearly all day. Sew a little. Work on Anna’s dress all this evening & make bread. Tuttle goes to Ferrisburg. Make cakes. Gertrude & Henrietta go over to Youngs to a party.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Jan. 27 Make bread & pies. Sweep lower hall & stairs. Mend. Bathe children, mop kitchen. Get S.S. lesson &ct, &ct.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun., Jan. 28 Sharp south wind. Children & I attend church. A nice, large class to-day an interesting lesson. Write to Ruth & Lulu Durand.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., Jan. 29 To day I am 47. (It) looks a long way, and I am on the last half of the journey. I want to look forward with pleasure to the home He has prepared to which I am one year nearer. Finish Anna’s dress. Helen gives me 3 cakes of nice soap.
She lived another 34 years.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., Jan. 30 The children give 2 granite pie plates & I recieve (sic) 2 lovely letters from Aunt Frank & Persis Persis sends me a fine silver butter knife. Tuttle goes to New York to night on the sleeper. A sharp wind blowing. Send some things to Mrs. Ross for the Home for Friendless Women. Bake P.M. Joe Gonyea here to dinner.
The Home for Friendless Women was in Burlington. I want to find out more about it.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Jan. 31 Snowing. Helen stays out of school to wash. Finish up mopping & all before dinner. Two men from Weybridge
There is no punctuation at the end of this sentence. I have no idea what the two men from Weybridge did, or who they were!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Feb. 1 Very cold. Do ver (sic) little but housework. Benjamin does not go to school. Henry drive Helen & I down to prayer meeting & home again. A cold night.
Fri., Feb. 2 Do housework all P.M. Go to a missionary meeting at Mrs. Bartlett’s. Mrs. Davis there & is very entertaining. We talk over the pros and cons of the Home for Friendless Women in Burlington. A cold wind blowing. Henry carries me down to the street & goes after Grace.
And here’s a poem–from “Homeland in the North”– for these lovely nights:
WONDERLAND NIGHT
Could you have stood at the pane with me
And seen what I was permitted to see!
A star-lit heaven we were passing thru
With never a cloud to obstruct the view.
Abysmal depths in points of light
Spangled the dome of wonderland night!
No moon shining at twelve by the clock,
No spooks waiting to give one shock!
On the rim of the earth just down below
The city lights across the snow
Reached beckoning fingers toward me.
Could you have been at the pane to see
Their rays go forth to meet the stars. . .
Betwixt earth and Heaven there were no bars!
If Ella were in a poetry workshop with me, I would suggest that the fourth stanza isn’t necessary.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Feb. 3 Make pies & bread. Grace makes cookies. Mend &ct. Tuttle comes from New York. Sick. Does not come home until near noon.
“Tuttle” was a lawyer who boarded with the Fishers for years. In the 1932 diary, he’s still around, driving Ella places in his car.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
. . .and here it is! Check out the link.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun., Feb. 4 Attend service & S.S. A profitable hour with my class. Read. Write Ruth & Persis. Henry & I drive up the farm. (He) tips over.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., Feb. 5 A heavy fall of snow. Henry carries the children to school but they come home at noon because there is no school. The roads are so bad it shuts in the country scholars. Pleasant P.M. & Helen does the washing. Grace does not teach.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., Feb. 6 Get in the clothes. Helen irons after school. Mend. Start out in good earnest to do something for myself. Grace goes to her school.
“. . to do something for myself.” How hard for this mother of 8 kids and keeper of a large house and farmer husband!
Filed under: From the H. Sheldon Museum
Good news–yesterday the folks in the Stewart-Swift Research Center of the Henry Sheldon Museum gave me permission to post entries from the diaries of Ella (and Henry) Fisher that they have in their collection–dating from 1870-1937!
If you are in the Addison County area, do stop by this amazing place. The Museum is great fun–my favorite thing is the Petrified Boy–and the Research Center is wonderful–and I’ve only just looked at the Fisher things and a few copies of “The Vermonter” magazine (in which E.W.F. had some poems published). The staff is more than helpful, too. It costs only $30 for a whole year’s membership–less if you are a student–and I think the Research Center is $3 or $4 for an afternoon, if you aren’t a member and just want to check it out.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Feb 7 Mend some; work some. Straighten out some children. Fix over the girl, mattress & mop the kitchen. (Gonyea) here to dinner.
“Straighten out some children,” eh?
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Feb. 8 Growing warmer, raining at night. Helen & I attend Prayer Meeting. How can anyone think it is a good meeting when they take no part in it?
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., Feb. 9 Helen goes up to Robinson’s. A change in the weather. A little cooler. Delos & Henry put up ice. Delos here to dinner. Work a little.
I’m fairly certain that the Robinsons mentioned here are the Rowland Robinsons, in Ferrisburg. Ella notes the death of R. Robinson later, and the interest the family has in flowers and birds (in later diaries) is consistent with this.
Here is a photo of the diary on the day of Ella’s birthday, Jan. 29, that I forgot to put in on that day:
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Feb. 10 Bake & mop & mend & (washing) Grace finishes her 2 term of school tonight. Delos here to dinner. Sabbath School lesson.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun., Feb. 11 A lovely day. We all attend church to day but Henry. He goes to the cottage. Mary Robinson brings Helen home & attends Church & S. S. Write to Carrrie, Ruth & (Father).
Henry almost never went to church.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., Feb 12 Wash & mop.
The Fishers often wash on Mondays, but sometimes on other days as well. Probably with 6 kids at home it was necessary.
Here’s what was going on in the Fisher household in 1898. Ashton and Hattie were living with Henry and Ella, and preparing to move to their own place. Henry and Ashton were logging around Snake Mountain, and “the man Lambert” was helping them.
These posts are courtesy of the Research Center at the Henry Sheldon Museum.
FEBRUARY
Tues., Feb. 1 Storming and blowing. The worst storm I ever remember. Children all stay at home. The man Lambert stays in the shed chamber. Finish Gertrude’s garters, cut out blocks, etc. The windows dark with snow. Henry snow bound at Sears. Tuttle goes downstreet, back to supper.
Thurs., Feb. 3 Down with the grip, Grace, Henrietta, Helen & I. Have Dr. Pilon at night. Ashton comes home.
Fri., Feb. 4 Get up & keep fires & wait on the sick all night. Benjamin down & Gertrude & Anna complaining. Put together 7 pies p.m. Henry comes home with a hired man. Dr. comes twice.
Sat., Feb. 5 Some of the invalids improving. Hattie & I make doughnuts . . Lambert 9 meals. 10
Mon., Feb. 7 Churn. Probably the last time until the new milk. Dr. comes.
Wed., Feb. 9 Take care of the sick. Ashton on the list to-day. Pilon calls. Grace goes to school.
Thurs., Feb. 10 Wash, mop & clean out shed. Helen does not get along at all. Ashton better. Loads (oak?) at the station. Hattie goes downstreet. Henry & Lambert fill the ice house. Give Bob the sick chicken.
Fri., Feb. 12 . . .A gorgeous day. Make an apple pie, do the morning work and get dinner . . . Make mincemeat and shampoo my head . . . Earl Kelly writes. Accepts “Metre.” Send “Born to Die” to Bennington Banner and St. Albans Messenger. A slap from the Free Press, my last one, for I am sure now that their attitude is personally antagonistic, which is certainly a mystery. . . Mansfield stands out against the sky.
Since there is no entry for 1900 on this date, here’s one from one of the Sheldon Museum diaries. I’m really curious about her relationship to the Free Press–why the antagonism? And wouldn’t it be something if the newspapers still published poetry?
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Feb 14 A pleasant day. Go to Burlington on the morning train. Find every one well. (?) & I go shopping after dinner. Spend the evening ripping up my dress waist in Helen’s room.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Feb 15 Helen goes with me this morning shopping. Get her a coat & myself a cape. Visit with Mrs. Peterson after dinner. Helen packs my things. Have to get a hack to get me all to the station at 5:30. Henry meets me at Vergennes station Snowing. Find the children & home all right but
Ella didn’t finish the sentence. Remember this cape! It’s one of my favorite things in the diary.
Fri., Feb 16 Anna’s 7 years old today. Give her doll some new clothes. Settle back into the old routine of work once more.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Feb 17 Settle into the usual work, baking, mopping, mending, bathing, and settling troubles, &ct
And this after just a couple of days away in Burlington!
Sun, Feb 18 All attend church. Mr. Morrell speaks on temperance. Stormy.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., Feb 19 Mend to-day & do housework.
I wonder when people stopped putting a hyphen in to-day.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., Feb 20 Wash, mop, &ct.
So many of Ella’s days were like this. However–I’m now working on the 1899 diary at the museum, and have found some really intriguing entries–personal, and somewhat difficult. Stay tuned! (Or whatever one “stays” on a blog.)
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Feb 21 Awakened at 2:30 A.M. by the fire whistle. The old Tannery goes up in smoke & all through the fire blows it’s (sic) own death knell, Gertrude is 14 today. She invites 2 of her friends, & they have light refreshments. Aunt Carrie sends her a silver spoon.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Feb 22 John L. Tuttle here to dinner. A holiday & all of the children at home. Attend the Prayer Meeting. Flossie Pierce dies today, age 13. I go up to Ashton’s before meeting.
I think “John L. Tuttle” is maybe the usual “Tuttle”‘s father. If I remember, John L. lives in Montpelier. George Washington’s Birthday was always a day off from school not too long ago.
Filed under: Poems
I just found this lovely edition of Idylls of Champlain online.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
I must go to Middlebury College to hear the recording of Ella W. Fisher singing “Caroline of Edinburgh Town” for the Flanders Ballad Collection.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Mar 7 A bright, beautiful day. Grace irons A.M. Bake bread.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Mar 8 A pleasant day. Grace, Helen & I attend the Prayer Meeting. Effie Blakely died at 5 P.M. of Typhoid.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Mar 10 Baking, bathing & mending. Mopping &ct. Effie Blakely buried to-day. Helen attends the funeral. Grace goes down street. She sends for the vaporizer from the Bemis Sanitarium Glens Falls, NY. Alice Ruscoe calls.
Grace had had eye surgery a couple of years before–I don’t know why. This is an ad from a magazine that Ella mentioned in an earlier diary entry.
Filed under: Introduction
Since there was no 1900 diary entry today, here’s the factual information I’ve discovered so far about the Fishers:
Ella Warner was born in Ferrisburgh, Vermont, on January 29, 1853, to Hector Warner and Zeruah Barnes. She had two younger sisters, Carrie and Helen. She was a descendent of Dr. Benjamin Warner, Seth Warner’s brother. After schooling at the St. Albans Academy and the
B. B. Allen School, Miss Warner became a school teacher herself. She married Henry Fisher, of Waltham, Vermont, in 1870, and they made their home in Vergennes. She died October 11, 1937, at the age 84
Ella Warner Fisher (also called Nell or Nellie) was the author of five collections of poetry: Idylls of Lake Champlain (1918), Green Mountain Echoes (1927), Castles in Memory (1931), The New Sketch Book (1933), and Homeland in the North (1936). She also wrote a History of First Baptist Church of Vergennes. In 1931, her poem “Go to Sleep,” was published in Vermont Verse: An Anthology. (Coates, Walter John & Frederick Tupper, eds., Brattleboro, Vermont: Stephen Daye Press, 1931). This was one of four volumes in the Green Mountain Series, which also included Vermont Prose, Vermont Biographies, and Vermont Folksongs & Ballads.
Other published poems include:
“The Glory of Kings”: Driftwind Nov 1932
“Loneliness”: The Tryout Aug 1933
“Sunrise” : The Tryout Aug 1933
“God’s Smiles” The Tryout July 1934
“The Sea” : Driftwind Jun/Jul 1935
“At Nightfall”: Driftwind Feb 1936
“In Vermont”: Driftwind Sep 1936
She wrote an article: “Reminiscence of the Civil War” in The Vermonter 39:141-2
and recorded a song, “Caroline of Edinburgh Town” for the Flanders Ballad Collection.
Henry was born in Waltham, Vermont, the son of George Fisher and Martha Steadman, on Sept. 30, 1848. He worked as a deputy sheriff, a sheriff, a lumberman, a grocer and a farmer, and was overseer of the poor in Vergennes in 1900. He died Nov. 12, 1916, age 68. His tombstone indicates that he was in CoB, 5th Vt Volunteers.
The Fishers had eight children:
Ashton was born Oct. 14, 1872. d. Nov. 26, 1932 in 1872. He was a “boat engineer” in 1900, and a chauffeur in 1910. He was married to Hattie Newman (1872-1960), and they had at least two daughters: Pearl (b. c. 1901) and Lou (?) (b. c. 1903). Ashton died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound in Saratoga Springs, New York, in 1932, after losing “everything” in the stock market.
Ruth was born Sept. 18, 1874. She may have attended UVM. She was a teacher, made good investments, traveled a bit, and died in 1935.
Grace was born in Nov. 16, 1880, and was a teacher in Ferrisburgh and Waltham, and later a florist at the Fisher Flower Farm in Vergennes. She died Aug 20, 1970, age 88.
Helen was born Sept 28, 1883, married Benjamin Franklin Smith (1886-1918) who drowned in the Delaware Water Gap, June 16, 1918.. After she was widowed, made her home with Ella and Grace in Vergennes. She was also a teacher. She died Nov. 13, 1965, age 82.
Grace & Helen didn’t speak to each other 30 yrs. They’d make their coffee in the morning careful not to be in the same room with one another.
Helen was a terrible driver–she drove “practically on the sidewalk.”
.
Gertrude C., who didn’t like her name so was known as “Hud,” was born in February 21, 1886. Gertrude married a man whose last name was Thomas, and they lived in Vergennes. She died in 1965.
Henrietta was born July 2, 1888 and married Karl Field of Ferrisburg. A friend of mine knew her as “Aunt Henrietta,” which is what her father called Henrietta, who according to this source was “a sweetheart”, who wore a big hat, had a big garden, put up a lot of vegetables. She was a good mother-in-law, too. She died in 1972.
Benjamin Warner was born July 25, 1891, and attended Vergennes High School and the Vermont Academny is Saxtons’ River. He graduated from Middlebury College. In 1917, he was a chemist–the Assistant Superintendent of a Metals Disintegrating Company in Bound Brook, NJ. In 1920, he married Faith Jeanette Fairfield. He was a 2nd lieutenant in the Air Service from 1917-1919. At one time he had a garage business in St. Albans. He was a member of the Vermont State Senate, from Franklin County, and served as Mayor of St. Albans, Vermont from 1939-1945. He died July 1, 1955, at Porter Hospital, of prostate cancer. He and his wife had a son, Ben Warner Fisher, Jr. (1924-2000), and a daughter, Virginia.
Anna was born February 16, 1893, and graduated from Vergennes High School and Middlebury College. She married Alvin Metcalf, and they had three children, Shirley, Conbrad & William. When her husband died, she went to live with her daughter, Shirley, in Connecticut. She died in 1975.
The camp Ella refers to is opposite Kingsland Bay.
Here’s what was happening in 1898. This entry is from a diary at the Sheldon Museum, and published with their permission:
Tues., March 1 Hattie & Ashton finish their papering & move over their goods. Finish 2 more work aprons. Commence a night dress for Anna.
and in the side margin: Henry trades Nobbin for George Lindsey’s horse & goes to Snake Mt.
Wed., March 2 Hattie & I wash. Henry buys Ashton a horse at the Harris auction . . .
Thurs., March 3 A very beautiful day. Hattie & I go down street in the morning. Helen stays with children & gets dinner. We go to Taylor’s to look at goods. Buy a chair & a few dishes. Have a terrible sick headache.
Sat., March 5 Paint frames. Make bread & pies. Bathe children. Go down street. Get a rocker at Taylor’s & a pair of new shades for the parlor. Ashton comes home from the Mt.
Mon., March 7 Wash &ct. Ashton & Mumble go to Snake Mt. . .Hattie & I go down street p.m. Get some cloth for Benjamin some blouses (sic).
Wed., March 9 Hattie & I go over to the house & clean until noon. After dinner she goes back & I sew on the parlor carpet. We finish the carpet in the evening.
I wish I knew where Ashton & Hattie’s house was.
Thurs. March 10 Clean the parlor & put up new curtains & put down the new carpet. Hattie puts up a shelf. Ashton & Mumble come home from the Mt.
Mumble was the hired man.
Sun., March 13 The children attend church & S. S. Hattie & Ashton go over to the house. Ashton & Young go to the Red Bridge to save the logs on the bank of the Creek. Pleasant.
Filed under: Introduction
Yesterday I went to the Middlebury College Music Library to check out Ella Fisher’s contribution to the Flanders Ballad Collection. Unfortunately, ‘Caroline of Edinburg Town” is a manuscript, not a recording, so I could not hear her voice.
Here is a paragraph from “Putnam’s Household Handbook,” published in 1916. I bet Ella had a copy.
Most good housekeepers lay out a weekly schedule for the housework, doing laundry work on Monday, cleaning second floor on Tuesday, ironing on Wednesday, first floor cleaning on Friday, baking on Saturday, etc., leaving one day, Thursday,, as an extra day. . .This system enables one to accomplish more and not get fagged out, as the ordinary household can be cared for during the morning hours and the afternoon is left free for entertaining callers, for visiting, or for sewing. In the average household the mother can do all her own work and yet rest every afternoon if the work be systematically planned. System is the key.”
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
While we wait for the 1900 diary entries to resume, here are a few tips from “Sheldon’s Guide to Etiquette,” published in 1901:
“To force one’s self to be agreeable to unattractive people is a splendid exercise of the will, and if by our efforts these unattractive ones are made to develop attractions, it is a conquest over which both men and angels may rejoice.”
“Canes and umbrellas should not be carried under the arm, as they become dangerous to those who are in close proximity.”
“Ultra-punctilious etiquette demands that a gentleman should stand uncovered in the presence of ladies until requested to replace his hat; but no lady will hesitate long to urge the request, as it is an act which is dangerous to health, especially in our climate.” (curious grammar here)
Sun., Mar 18 Attend church.
And here’s a poem from “The New Sketch Book:”
WATSON UNDERWOOD
Buy and sell!
But and sell!
Boy and man,
Since life began!
Yes, I was a careful buyer,
Always sold a margin higher,
Always saved and put away
Something for a rainy day.
Honest always, to a cent,
Never wasted, never spent
Money on useless treasure
Or sinful pleasure.
Sunday, always in my pew,
Spoke to every one I knew,
Paid my way . . .!
I still can say
An honest man, tho under the sod,
Is the noblest work of God.
Sat., March 20 . . .Ashton & Hattie go to their house & stay the first night by themselves.
From the Research Center at the Sheldon Museum. Yesterday I was there, reading from the 1932 diary–the year Ashton shot himself–hard going. It’s good to remember that there were happier times.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri. Mar 23 A bright, pleasant day, Get the work done early & finish copying “Forty Years Married” Henry comes at night with a good mess of smelt.
Of course this link is not what she meant, but it’s still pretty good. I like the guy with the pet duck. My father used to go ice fishing and come home with smelt, which my mother refused to clean. They’re little oily, bony fish. Nobody liked them but Dad.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Mar 24 Bake bread, pies, cake. Mop. Bathe children. S. S. lesson, missionary program, &tc Grace comes from B. at noon. (Morning) (going) calls Make 2 custard pies.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun Mar 25 Attend church & go to the farm toward night with Anna & Benjamin. Tip over going up. Go in a cutter.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., Mar 26 Take up carpet in Ruth’s room, clean it & put it back. Take up carpet in my room clean it & paint around the out edges of the floor.
Spring cleaning begins. . .
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., Mar 27 Wash. Small wash. Children all at home this week. Take up the girls carpet & clean the room. Girls fill the floor cracks with plastico & paint one coat.
Spring cleaning goes on. I wonder what a “small wash” looked like in that household. Inspired by Ella, I washed (instead of my usual monthly–or so– go over with a dustrag) the bedroom furniture yesterday, for the first time in maybe 10 years.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Mar 28 Take up Tuttle’s carpet & clean the room Hattie & Ashton come up & stay all the afternoon & (hem napkins) & rest. Paint the girl’s floor a second coat in the evening.
The cross-out is hers.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Mar 29 Cold north wind. Clean Tuttle’s room A. M. Put down carpet P.M. Put up cot for Benjamin in the clean room. Attend prayer meeting. A very earnest meeting & a good number present.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., Mar 30 Bake bread &tc. Work some in the 3d floor. Mend &tc. About used up.
I always wonder what the “&tc” is.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., Mar 31 Baking, mopping, mending & (?ing). Helen canvasses all day for sociable at the church. S. S. lesson in the evening.
So interesting that words fall into disuse: “sociable” is a good noun.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun April 1 All of us attend church. A lovely day. Feel very miserable after dinner & lie down most of the afternoon.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., April 2 Cut out Grace a shirt waist. Henry tears up sitting room & takes out the job on the chimney. Clean dining
The spring cleaning continues. . .(cross-out is hers)
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., Apr 3 A large wash. Merrill comes at noon & they commence laying the sitting room floor. Mr. Bartlett calls. Go down street P.M. Call on Mrs. Aiken & several other places. Clean dining room closet & put away the stove in the evening.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed., Apr 4 They finish laying the sitting room floor. We iron. Ashton comes up a little while in the morning. Grace goes down street P.M.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., Apr 5 Henry plasters in sitting room, pantry & bedroom. I clean up plaster. Make custard pies A.M. Mend a little &ct. Grace & Mrs. Aiken baptized after Prayer Meeting. Gertrude gets her (robes) at (Austin) Kendall’s.
I love the understated: “I clean up plaster.”
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri., Apr 6 Mend A.M. Attend Mission Circle P.M. Prepare the program. Topic on the (Freedman) 12 ladies present. Children go to the farm for milk. Henry goes to the Lake. The old cow has a calf & we shall have milk soon.
There are no posts in this diary until May 16, so I’ll do some catch-up from others. Ella always capitalizes “Lake.”
Here are a few from 1898–from the diaries at the Sheldon Museum:
Fri., March 25 Ashton suffered all night with a pain in his leg. Hattie goes for Ruth at the noon train. . .
Sun., March 27 A very nice day. Attend church with the children. Helen sings in the choir. Ashton having a hard time with his leg.
no entries from 28-31
APRIL
Fri., April 1 Ashton goes to Burlington hospital. Hattie stays with us.
Sat., Apr. 2 Henry goes to Burlington on the morning sleeper. Ashton has an operation performed on his leg at the hospital, which is successful. Henry comes home on the Flyer, 6 P.M. Put down my carpet.
Mon., April 4 Ashton comes at 4 P.M. Steve Bates brings him home. Vacation week. The children at home.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Curious about the clothing the Fishers were wearing in 1900, I came upon this website showing women’s clothing in 1900, as well as other things.
There’s also a link in this site to another diary.
The link to this doesn’t seem to work. You’ve got to go right to the address: www.memorialhall.mass.edu/activities/dressup/index.html.
Filed under: Poems
I’ve noticed that several people have found this site while looking up Norman Tousley. Ella Fisher wrote a poem with that title, and it was published in “The New Sketch Book.” Her Norman Tousley was a small town doctor. It’s an interesting coincidence that there was a 1950′s body builder by that name.
Filed under: Poems
Here’s a poem for today, from “Homeland in the North”:
SPRING RAIN
The skies are a dripping fountain,
The waters a furrowing plough,
And the clouds today remind us
Of a troubled woman’s brow.
There’s talk in the leafless branches
Where the winds a requiem sing,
That over our dead she is weeping. . .
The beautiful goddess of Spring!
There’s joy in the silent golden hours
When Sorrow lies sleeping among the flowers.
Filed under: Poems
Here’s a poem from “Homeland in the North,” celebrating Spring Cleaning!
ADOWN THE VALLEY
Adown the awakened valley
The sun shines in a haze,
Along the greening hill-slopes
Contented cattle graze.
The trees, their buds unfolding
In soft and feathery lines,
A graceful foil that mingles
With stately northern pines.
All the world about us
Caught in the mesh of spring,
In joyous notes is thrilling
With birdland on the wing.
And housewives have been busy
In homes along the way,
Where freshly laundered curtains
At open windows sway.
Yards and lawns and meadows
And cleaned-up roadsides tell
Just what sort of people
Along the valley dwell.
Friendly smiling faces,
Eyes absorbing deep
The springtime’s lavish beauty
Enhanced by winter’s sleep.
The good earth radiating,
Its mingled voices raise
In one united symphony
Of joyous, reverent praise,
And high above the mountains
Around us everywhere
Fantastic clouds are building
Bright castles in the air.
Filed under: Poems
And here is one of her not-so-great poems from ‘The New Sketch Book’
CYRUS CANTWELL
When I was a lad my mother died
And Father brought home a strange new bride.
On one thing we both could agree,
I didn’t like her, she hated me.
A teasing temper one day I displayed,
A plea against me to Father she made,
He gave me some money, a pittance small,
And bade me to go beyond recall.
I went to sea, I had a hard berth,
But I traveled over a lot of the earth,
I picked up some money, bought a boat of my own,
Came back to Champlain to do business alone.
I fell for a partner, it was folly in me,
I’d better have sailed on the broad blue sea,
He did not knife me, he gave me a drink
And I slipped out and over the brink.
Somewhere under the wide, wide sky,
To-day, in a nameless grave I lie!
A poem from Green Mountain Echoes that I should have posted yesterday. All of these flowers are indeed in bloom in Vermont now, though arbutus has become very rare–I’ve never seen it.
MAY DAY
Welcome in, bright First of May!
Come and see the children play;
Smile on them as they convene,
Blossom decked around their queen.
Gold of sunlight bring with you,
A-glisten yet with last night’s dew. . .
Let no cloud gloom fall to-day
On the children at their play!
Tulips nod gaily as I pass,
Violets spring from the velvet grass,
Pansies lift their glowing faces,
Trillium brightens woodland spaces,
Spring Beauty, May’s own shy sweet flower,
Spangles the way in starry shower,
Beneath the cover of last year’s leaves
Her waxen blooms Arbutus weaves.
They, the children always know
Where the spring-time blossoms grow;
From every sunny garden nook
To the violets by the meadow brook.
They cull each flower with loving care
To make a wreath to deck your hair;
With garlands they are waiting you,
A-glisten yet with last night’s dew.
Souls look forth from childhood eyes. . .
Opening flowers. . .What sweet surprise!
Stemmed with gold thread, fragile, bright,
Dewy petaled from last night!
They, the opening flowers of youth,
Eyes aflame with love and truth. . .
Their beauty rivals the blooms that adorn
Your flower decked hair, O May Day Morn!
Filed under: Poems
This is from “Idylls of Champlain.”
VERSE
It may be a song, a fragment of prayer;
A quaver of bird carol in the air;
A whisper of leaves in a maple’s shade;
A glint of sunshine across a glade;
The ripple and purl of dappling streams;
The hazy memory of happy dreams;
A dewy rose on a summer morn;
The hush of nature when love is born.
A woodland path that once you knew,
Where anemone and violet grew;
The perfume wafted from a flower;
A bit of comfort in sorrow’s hour–
These are the things for a poet planned,
Couched in a language men understand.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun May 13 We all attend church. Quite warm. Ashton, Hattie & Lulu come up after dinner. Hud & Lulu take Grace to her school.
I don’t know if “we all” included Henry.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., May 14 Very warm. Churn. Go in the afternoon with Ashton, Hattie & Lulu to the station. He starts for Detroit.
I haven’t yet figured out what Ashton did in Detroit. I think Ella’s sister lived there.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., May 15 Another very hot day for this time of year. Cut Hud’s skirt. A cool change in P.M.
Here’s a silly little poem about a cat, from “Green Mountain Echoes.”
PETER
Out on an orchard limb
Concealed by friendly leaves,
Climbing a beam in the barn
Nearest the teeming eaves,
Watching the mating of birds,
Finding each hidden nest,
Alert at a stranger’s approach,
Keen on a hunting quest.
Leaving a lifeless mouse
Lying inside the door
Spilling a basket of thread,
Rolling the spools on the floor,
Curled in a cushioned chair,
Asleep on a sunny mat,
Sleek and glossy and spoiled,
No rival has Peter, the cat.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Here’s a link to a site with 1900′s fashions that works better than the one I had up. There are even patterns for some of the garments. Since Ella sewed all the time, I suspect patterns were important to her.
Sun May 20 Attend church.
There aren’t many posts over the summer. I suspect this mother of eight/farmwoman/poet was too busy and too tired at the end of the day. But here’s a poem for us, from “Green Mountain Echoes.”
There are still lilacs blooming around the old Fisher house. One of these days I’ll go take some photos!
THE LILACS ON THE LAWN
Unsightly, crooked, blossom hung!
Purple petaled, waxen sweet!
I bury my face in their lovely blooms,
Graceful, beauteous and complete!
Their trunks are gnarled with beating storms,
They were planted long ago;
Each year they give their bloom to me
Because I love them so.
Their haunting sweetness brings to mind
The summers long since gone,
When children’s voices ran among
The lilacs on the lawn . . .
Memories fragrant with the drifing bloom
Of the lilacs on the lawn!
Here are a few from 1898, from the diaries at the Sheldon Museum, with their kind permission. In the 1910 census, Ashton’s occupation is “chauffeur.” I suspect he was in 1898, too.
Thurs., May 19 Henry & Ashton have a few words.
Fri., May 20 Carrie & I drive up to New Cemetery. Take Ashton’s Dolly.
Sat., May 21 Ashton takes a party to Westford. Henry buys a span of horses of Mrs. C W Read.
Here’s a poem from “Green Mountain Echoes”
MEMORIAL DAY
Taps is sounding along the line,
Fainter the old drums beat,
Thinner the ranks of the blue brigade,
Slower the marching feet.
Flowers they lay on the silent graves
And little flags they plant,
marking the place where the comrades lie
Where western sunsets slant.
Bravely they marched at the country’s call,
A place in the fray to fill,
And in our lives to-day is left
A bit of heartache still.
For many a lad to waiting homes
Never came back again . . .
Some languished and died in prison pens,
Some lay among the slain.
. . .Some there are who remember still
How wives and mothers wept,
When the whelming waves of sorrow and war
Over the country swept.
As we watch the veteran corps to-day
Our hearts with sadness thrill . . .
The veil of the years is swept away. . .
We’ve a bit of the heartache still.
Slower the tread of the blue brigade
As they march along the street . . .
Taps is sounding along the line . . .
Fainter the old drums beat.
A poem celebrating the orioles, from “Green Mountain Echoes.”
FLIGHT OF THE ORIOLE
Beautiful bird, you soar and fly
Into the deeps of the wide, wide sky,
Away to the serried mountain tops
Where their rugged profile drops
In sheer ravines to rest.
Your bright wings hold
The glints of gold
Caught on their dazzling crest.
Glorious bird, who taught you to fly
Straight as an arrow along the sky?
In some far and palmy clime
You escape the cold of the winter time,
But each returning year,
Sweet, full and clear,
Your glad notes come to me,
And you swing a nest
For your golden breast
From the boughs of the old elm tree.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Pretty exciting:
Sun May 27 Attend church.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed. May 30 Helen & I wash & mop. Mother comes at noon. Grace comes home & Mrs. (Parker) & her 4 children come after her. Rains toward night.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs, May 31 Ironing &ct. Mother, Helen & I attend Prayer meeting & go shopping afterward.
Filed under: Poems
JUNE
Looking toward the west
The skies are blue
An’ they used to be. . .
The robins are building another nest
Out in an apple tree.
The peonies their petals have spilled,
a carpet for our feet,
And all along the garden fence
The roses hang
In clusters sweet,
White and pink and red,
Crimson and yellow and white. . .
Is there any one who knows
How to fashion a yellow rose?
To whom is given
The skill to weave
The intricate pattern
Of a little bird’s delicate nest?
Or a brush to paint
The skies of June
Looking toward the west?
From “Homeland in the North.” I wonder what her poems would have been like if she hadn’t read “The Art of Versification“
There aren’t many diary entries this time of year–only one a week in June, and then not very interesting. I’ll post poems now and then–this is a busy time of year for me, too! “Wild Strawberries” is from “Green Mountain Echoes.”
Sun June 3 Raining hard. Attend service with Benjamin & Henrietta.
WILD STRAWBERRIES
The lure of the fields is calling me,
The tang of sweets where the wind blows free.
In a sunkissed meadow I happen to know
There’s a sloping glebe where the strawberries grow.
Red fragrant clusters in the tangled grass . . .
I long to go . . . but the hours pass,
The waning sun of afternoon
Shines on my window pane,
Full well I know I may not stray
In that dear old field again.
From the trammels that bind me I would not be free,
But the child I was again I would be,
When I strayed with Grandmother long ago
In the old west meadow where the strawberries grow.
“Glebe” and “trammels” are good words. The broken rhythm of the last stanza is odd–but it works, I think.
Filed under: Poems
Here are a couple of poems from “The New Sketchbook.” I didn’t really care for these poems too much, but they’re growing on me. I wonder how many were taken from situations in the Vergennes area. In the introduction, Ella wrote:
EXPLANATORY
Some of the sketches in the following pages are a memorial to those who lived, loved and died before us, inscribed “lest we forget.”
The others are purely fictitious, samples of human nature, with no reference to, or reflection on any person, living or dead.
Nevertheless, I wonder.
FERDINAND DELAPORT
Work and I were enemies.
I didn’t like work
So I never worked.
Mother lived alone
After Father died,
She needed me so I stayed.
If a tramp came to the door
I sent him right along.
The Delaports were not popular
But the neighbors came to call.
I didn’t like callers,
So they ceased to come.
Mother made the best of it
But she wasn’t happy.
When I found her dead one day
I called a neighbor in.
The neighbor sent me for the undertaker,
The undertaker sent me to the barber,
The barber sent me to the river
To the old swimming hole . . .
I never went swimming,
It was too much work.
Then I had to get a new suit.
I overheard a woman ask at the funeral,
“Who is that gentleman?”
Then I wished that Mother could know
That once, for her sake,
I looked like a gentleman!
That would have made her happy.
O yes! I know that
“Cleanliness is next to godliness!”
But it was too much work. . .
Work and I were enemies.
CELIA DELAPORT
When I married Clayton Delaport
I was young and light-hearted.
If it was wrong to be young
And wrong to be light-hearted,
I paid!
Do you know what fear is?
I was afraid!
I feared my husband!
When he died I feared his son!
My wishes were disregarded,
I dared not express an opinion.
It is a fearful thing to be afraid,
There is safety only in the grave
And I decided to find safety!
Filed under: Poems
Here are a couple of poems from “The New Sketchbook” about a church–Ella’s church was always on the brink of collapse, and it did in her lifetime. These poems most likely express the way she thought ministers should act.
DAVID HUMPHRIES
I was the new pastor at Jotham’s Corners,
Deacon Prentis wanted a series
Of prayer meetings.
He said the place had gone to seed,
People needed waking up!
Religion was at a stand-still,
Or worse
There wasn’t any!
The pews were empty on Sunday!
The few who did attend
Went to sleep during service,
The church building was falling down,
The roof leaked,
The plaster had fallen in places,
The planking at the entrace (sic) door
Was in danger of breaking through . . .
Couldn’t I do something about it?
I asked him for a list of families
Who belonged,
Then I went calling.
I walked with the farmers
As they worked in the fields.
I helped turn the hay
And hoe the potatoes,
We talked of the crops
And the farm implements.
I dined with them
And supped with them,
I played with the children
And made myself at home in the kitchen.
They sent for me in illness
And I carry a smiling face
Into their sick-rooms.
On Sunday mornings
I talked in the church
About the simple life of the Master,
Who walked in the corn fields
Upon the Sabbath Day.
When the lumber dealer gave planks
And cut the price on shingles
And a carpenter gave his time
And the farmers turned in to help,
I worked with them.
The women came to clean up
And Miss Tabitha Wright,
Who lived at the Corners
And inherited money,
Gave generously.
So we fixed the church
Inside and out.
The people got so interestsed
That they drove in
To hear a simple friendly talk
About the Master,
Who walked in the corn fields
Upon the Sabbath Day.
DEACON PRENTIS
Sometimes a man accomplishes more, more by dying than
he does when alive.
I never thought it amounted to much when David Hum-
phries went visiting all over the county.
What Jotham’s Corners needed most was some good
rousin’ sermons to wake ‘em up!
He never preached a sermon and his talks on Sunday
morning were so simple that the children understood.
He had all the children for miles around; the church was
a regular nursery.
I suppose that was the reason the fathers and mothers
turned in to fix it up.
I helped because it wouldn’t look well for the Deacon to
sit still while all the reest were busy, but I believed in
good rousin’ sermons to wake the folks up!
When man comes to die and the world drops away
everything looks different.
–odd line breaks in this last one. I wonder if that’s because of a publishing/page size limitation.
Filed under: Poems
There are no diary entries till July, so I’m continuing the “Spoon River Anthology” type poems from the “Sketch Book.” It seems quite likely that Mrs. Fisher was familiar with that book, since it was published in 1915 and the “Sketch Book” in 1933.
TABITHA WRIGHT
It is not the will of Our Heavenly Father that any one
should perish.
As I had made up my mind that Jotham’s Corners might
perish, for all I cared, I retired behind closed blinds
and never was at home when anyone came to call.
But when I saw David Humphries going back and forth,
working like any common laborer, the image of his
father, to whom I was once engaged . . .
Well, it was my own fault that he left me to marry an-
other girl,
Anyway, I let David in, and when he told me the things
he was planning to do I decided to help.
After all is said and done, what is money for?
There is no one but my faithful maid, Ellen, and I have
provided for her.
Then I went Sunday mornings to hear David preach.
When he was taken with pneumonia and left a heart-
broken little woman and two helpless children, I de-
cided to give her my front rooms for a dress-making
establishment.
I helped her clothe and educate the children.
They filled my empty rooms with sunshine and my hungry
heart with love.
The blinds are always open now and the neighbors are all
friendly.
I could not stay, but I left my inheritance in good hands;
it made it easier to go.
ORPHA DUNREATH
When I started on a journey
Faith and courage buoyed me up.
I had been shielded from hardship
and I believed in God and all mankind.
The way grew rough
And the soul of me grew perpexed,
For a time I pressed on,
Bending beneath accumulating burdens
And entangled with difficulties.
Care followed my footsteps,
Indignities were heaped upon me,
Like stinging insects they blinded my sight,
The ugliness of the path daunted my courage,
Hope grew dim and receded
In the distance.
Then I came to the forks of the road,
The same ugly path
Stretched its dismal length ahead,
But the diverging way led into the forest. . .
I passed into its cool retreat,
Roses lifted their delicate blooms to my gaze
And thrilled my tired senses with fragrance,
Song birds flitted among the branches
Filling the air with melody,
Soft moses (sic) lent healing to my lacerated feet,
Long vistas opened up before me
And sunlight filtered through
Overarching foliage,
Luring and enticing me onward.
Unheeding I wandered
Nor noticed that the pathway behind me
Closed as I walked.
Clouds obscured the sun.
The way became a labyrinth
From which I found no egress.
Nettles and rank weeds sprang up around me,
Repulsive reptiles uncoiled themselves at me feet
And I fought my way, step by step,
Vainly seeking a way out.
Regret and remorse were my companions,
Evil faces leered at me,
Phosporescent shapes in the Stygian darkness.
Sorrow wrapped hovering wings about my head
And the soul of me
Was laden with despair.
Time is relentless.
Years rolled by,
Like chariot wheels they rolled over my soul,
My hair grew white,
Thje imprint of disappointment
Changed my features,
The loves of my youth were forgotten,
Or a dim memory of the past.
I travailed in sorrow.
No mortal heard my wail of anguish,
For even my voice was lost in suffering.
“Forty yeaars have I wandered,
O Lord, is it not enough?”
I raised my face . .
My holden eyes were opened!
Through the rifts in the clouds above
I saw God!
Filed under: Poems
From “Homeland in the North”
TREES
Softly in the eventide,
Shadowy in the breeze,
Whispering to my garden,
Nod the sheltering trees.
Crooning tales of wisdom
Caught from summer skies,
Gently, gently rocking
As the daylight dies.
Many a sleepy songster,
Many a hidden nest,
Gently, gently rocking
Twittering birds to rest.
God created gardens
The eye of man to please
And crowned them with perfection
When He created trees
And here is a photo of a locust grove. There are locust trees planted around the old Fisher place.
Filed under: Poems
Some more from “The New Sketch Book.” Her use of commas fascinates me.
RACHEL DUNMORE
It was only a plain face
That looked back at me
When I came to the mirror,
Some change, perhaps, to see
If Beauty had repented,
Some forgotten line to trace
To soften the rigors
Of that unrelenting face.
Then to sigh and turn away . . .
No change that I could see,
The same cool eyes of gray
Were looking back at me,
A challenge in their depths
From some consciousness within,
That discontent and sighing
Were just a form of sin.
The years wrought many changes
Deep graven on my heart,
Of God’s great world of beauty
I became a living part.
I was breathing in enchantment
And I grew content to be
The face in the mirror
That looked back at me.
MARIETTA
I dreaded to go onto the street,
Averted faces to meet,
Or a curt nod which said
More than words.
A bit of driftwood
Dried and dead,
Tossed here and there
Was more to them.
No one seemed to care,
Why should I?
And when I had to die
They clasped my still fingers
In rest
Above the scarlet letter
On my breast.
JOHN PHILANDER
Life is full of sorrow
Made my man’s mistakes,
Made of sins and blunders
Ere a man awakes,
To know its deeper meaning
And a conduct to maintain
To save himself and others
Its heartache and its pain.
I had my good intentions,
But some evil thing within
Deflected from my purpose,
(Or without, it may have been,)
When I came into existence
I was never meant to be
Different from other men,
But the Devil followed me.
Stay tuned. . .
Filed under: Poems
Mary, nurse and nun. Oh well.
MARY JENNIFER, Nurse and Nun
To love’s young dream
I gave myself,
Nor knew I would awake
To see a spectre
Standing by
His hungry toll to take.
Could love be sin
And sin be death . . .?
The thought in silence grew
Until at last
In soundless deeps
The bitter truth I knew.
No wedding bells!
No marriage ring!
The winds of censure beat
My house of mist
Until it lay
In ruins at my feet!
O, Time is hard!
And Tiime is kind!
And vain are bitter tears . . .
The wounds that bleed
Will leave their scars
Thru the unforgotten years.
Chester Armand, Soldier
From gaping wounds
The red blood flowed
At the setting of the sun,
And dying men
Turned wistfully
To Mary, nurse and nun.
In a race with Death
She worked with Life,
Our ebbing lives to save . . .
Across the sea
Her dream of youth
Lay buried in a grave.
Sun June 10 Attend church.
This is from “The New Sketch Book.” It’s probably about about the minister at the Vergennes Baptist Church. Ella was fond of him and his wife, and mentions them in the diary.
E. M. BARTLETT
“Abide in me.”
O, Mortal have you thought . . .
Does that to you meant aught?
“Abide in me.”
Sometimes a sentence catches the light,
Stands out in relief and dazzles our sight.
No especial message to us it bore,
We have seen it many times before.
Then suddenly to our awakened gaze
With a deeper meaning it seems to blaze,
From some hidden source there seems to spring
A blaze of light! A living thing!
“Abide in me.”
O, Mortal, these three words are true!
Beautiful words, they must mean you!
Filed under: Poems
These poems are intriguing me more and more. Although I don’t think they’re great poems, as I copy them out, I’m learning more about Ella Fisher’s philosophy of life, the way she thinks about religion, work, goodness. . .
This is the first poem in the book:
VOICES
The valleys are full of voices,
Each with its own appeal,
Vibrating in field and woodland,
Arising from brick and steel.
Wave on wave intoning
Out of the everywhere,
Caught in the meshes of wireless,
Vibrant on the air.
Wailing voices that whimper
With life’s unending pain,
Fainting hearts who are longing
A measure of peace to gain.
Clatter of empty voices
Having nothing to say,
Chattering always of nothing
And always on display.
Stentorian voices shouting
From sweating gangs of men
In work’s high ceilinged chambers
And then . . .
Rolling of whirring belts,
Scream of steel upon steel,
Deafening grind of power
With each revolving wheel!
Peal of church bells calling
From many a belfry tower,
Voices of clock bells tolling
Forth each shining hour.
Voices of winging birds
Whose throats are bursting with song
Trilling in golden spaces
The country lanes along.
Little voices with something to tell
Murmuring on the breeze
Secrets when no one listens,
Whispering among the trees.
Tinkle of silver waters
Singing in undertones
Where some rivulet courses
Over the shining stones.
Voices from memory’s stillroom
Calling through laughter and tears
In cadences sweet to remember
Out of the silence of years . . .
It may be somebody’s mother
Crooning a lullaby
In the twilit dust of evening
Soft as a zephyr’s sigh,
Or a little childish voice
In oft repeated prayer,
But less than a muted whisper
Stealing upon the air.
Voices in our valleys
Are speaking to us still
Through drifting years of silence,
Whose places today we fill,
Their names somewhere in marble
Bring back an endless chain
Of long forgotten memories . . .
They seem to live again!
Their span of life was given
Some purpose to fulfil . . .
From the shadowy vale of silence
They are speaking to us still.
Filed under: Poems
PASTOR LEAVITT
“Work while the day lasteth, for the
night cometh, in which no man may work.”
I told my people so,
Again and again I told them so.
They filled the pews on Sunday
And some of them fell asleep.
I softened my voice
And let them sleep on . . .
Farmers who came from miles around . . .
They may have carried the text too far,
I felt in my soul
That sleep was the thing they needed most.
And when the last “Amen” was said
They were the ones to come and say
“That was a fine sermon, Parson!”
“Pastor, Priest and Parson!”
It never troubled me
Which one the people called me,
I answered to all three.
Rev. H. F. Leavitt, 1825
Filed under: Poems
I went to St. Albans yesterday to see if I could find out more about Ella’s connection to that city. She attended St. Albans academy, Benjamin became mayor there, and there was a Warner Home on High Street when I was a child there. I found out that Chauncey Warner, son of John Warner of Massachusetts, gave the money for the Home. It doesn’t seem that there’s a connection, but I’ll check around. Other than that, I learned nothing.
Here are a couple of poems. The first one is related to yesterday’s:
MRS. PHILANDER
Can a faithful praying mother
Have a murderer for a son?
I never could believe it
Tho mine was hung for one!
They said he killed a woman
And set her house on fire . . .
How can Justice be so blind
A victim to require?
I never nurtured a murderer,
Believe it, he who can!
I stood for love and friendliness. . .
They hung an innocent man!
ALMIRA PETERS
Have you seen the clouds lift
Like a curtain in the theatre,
Just a little and drop back again?
Life is like that!
Clouds like a pall, thick and heavy!
They made lines on my face
That grew deeper in the loneliness
As the years went by.
When a woman walks along the road
Attending to her own business
Why do men and young things laugh
And make remarks?
Is it because she is wrinkled and old
And looks sour and ugly?
They walk on the carpets I weave,
Good firm carpets
With stripes that match exactly,
Yard for yard!
JONATHAN JEFFRY
It was my ambition to found a race of men!
All who ever lived before me,
Whose name I bore,
Have passed into oblivion.
They came from Holland
And settled in Manhattan.
When it came my turn
I shouldered a gun
And took my part in the Revolution.
My wife fell ill and died,
Then I married the daughter of a pioneer.
God sent us daughters
But only one son,
Which was a misfortune
To the son.
Then I feared my name
Would pass into oblivion
As my ancestors had passed before me . . .
It was my ambition to found a race of men!
THE OLD ENGINEER
I loved the song of the saw,
With a log on the carriage
And the men at the gears,
It was music in my ears,
The engine throbbing strong and true,
The steel blade cutting the timber through.
I loved the song of the saw,
The sound of its warning shriek.
All day long its rhythm beat,
It drowned the shuffle of hurrying feet,
It drowned the shouts of the men at work,
It left no time for a man to shirk.
I loved the song of the saw,
My ears with its lay grew deaf.
It drowned the thought of the might-have-been
And the fragrance of timber came drifting in
To sweeten the toil of the busy day
And drive the doldrums of life away.
Robert McLaughlin–(this must be a real person)
LYMAN WHITE
From place to place we drifted about,
There’s room in the world to drift,
For a little space we settled down
In an old house built long ago
When Ferrisburg welcomed its pioneers.
The kitchen answered for everything,
But the big front room we closed away
From the eyes of the neighbors
And the light of day.
It held our bed and a chair or two,
A change of clothing, but little more.
We could not afford when moving about,
Of useless truck to carry a store.
No children we had to make us glad,
But the schoolhouse stood across the road
And the children came to watch me work . . .
Between the window and the fire
With hammer and last and pegs. . . .
I had no time to waste or shirk,
But sat all day to make and patch . . .
Shoes from the countryside brought in,
With red Morocco trimmed,
Boots of cowhide and boots of calf
That some dandy wore to a country dance
Held at the wayside Inn:
Shoes of calf for ladies to wear
And children’s shoes with copper toes . . .
And everyone knows
That I did good work,
With no cause to worry
And no time to shirk.
The evenings fell and the neighbors came
Drawn by the light of our candle’s flame,
And something else we were loath to tell
That came to us when the evenings fell.
It wasn’t a popular theme with some
But we listened and watched and grew afraid,
At tipping tables and rapping walls
And the manifestations the spirits made,
And after a time we thought it best
To leave the old house and migrate West.
DR. JOSEPH FREEMAN
When I was chosen to found a church
I obeyed the call.
It was not mine to know
If the church would prosper,
Not mine to question the wisdom
Of founding a church
In a small town
Where four churches already existed . . .
But I obeyed the call.
I lived long enough to know
That it was useless
For the little church to struggle on,
But when I was sent again and again
To tide over between pastors,
I never told them . . .
It was not mine to question
But to obey.
Ella lived to see the Baptist Church closed and destroyed by fire.
JONATHAN GREY
You thought that I was simple!
I saw your expressive smiles,
And the boys made open sport of me
As I passed along the street.
I did not tell you my deep thoughts
As I tramped the country roads,
Trimming orchards and setting grafts
Until I was old and grey . . .
And often I was hungry,
Footsore and soaked with rain,
Shivering with cold and illness . . .
Those were the days
When I dreamed of the past.
I dreamed of the farmhouse
Where I was born,
Its restfulness and cheer,
The blossom decked meadows in June.
The swish of the scythes
As we started in
At the corner of the old North meadow lot,
The gleam of our long steel blades
And the swaths we cut
To make in the noonday sun.
Then we sat at my father’s table,
(I never knew hunger there)
In the peace of the noontide hour.
The memory of my mother’s smile . . .
Her voice like a benediction
Thru the weary, dragging years
Of sorrow and misfortune,
Forever followed me.
And you . . .you thought me simple!
My thought was far from you,
Deep rooted in the past!
Sun June 17 Attend church.
I like this one–it’s from “Green Mountain Echoes”
SABBATH BELLS
It is still . . .so still this Sabbath morn
And the amethist (sic) mountains rise
In quiet grandeur, peak on peak,
Against the lapis skies.
It is still along the valley’s base
Where the river’s glistening sheen,
Like a band of sheeted silver flows
Between its banks of green.
It is still along the garden paths,
Not a quiver of the oleaves . . .
Just a twittering of the homing birds . . .
The swallows beneath the eaves.
It is still where the gold of sunlight lies
On all the orchard trees,
Save a soft resonance in the air . . .
The swarming of the bees.
Then . . . into the silence, peal on peal,
In long and echoing swells,
Across the sweet alfalfa fields
Comes the calling of the bells.
DAVID MARTIN
He took in the widow
Tho his wife objected.
She was alone and lonely
And her acres were an obsession with David,
Acres and more acres!
When the widow died
He added her acres to his.
It seemed a pity that he must go,
He should have lived always
To enjoy the result
Of his scheming!
ELDER HODGE
O, what can be done with the sinners,
The tares in the wheat to-day?
And how can the upright escape
The infection of rust and decay?
Can we follow the steps of the Nazarene
As He walked with sinners in Palestine,
Can we hear the gracious words He said
As He healed the sick and raised the dead?
“Let the tares and the wheat together grow
Till the harvest of souls in the afterglow.”
It may be an answer we shall find
In the roots of the plants so closely twined,
That the strong support of the hardy weed
Has supplied its strength to the other’s need . . .
It may be we shall find replete
The tares supporting, uplifting the wheat.
THE OLD SCHOOLMASTER
“I stand on the shore of a boundless
sea of knowledge.” . . . B. B. ALLEN
I stood on the shore of a boundless sea,
Its unfathomed waters beckoned me
To uncharted seas reaching far and wide,
With emerald shores, whose sun-bright tide
Brought endless store of wisdom and truth
To feed the searching heart of youth.
I stood on the brink of that beckoning sea
And prayed that the knowledge be given me,
The wisdom and truth I longed to teach
That lay beyond my vision’s reach,
That I might hold it intact, complete,
To bind on the brow of the youth at my feet.
* * *
Blurred windows . . .dust strewn room . . .
Empty benches . . .loneliness . . .gloom!
An old man slumped in the Master’s chair
Half asleep in the heavy air,
Seeing again the faces of youth
Hungrily imbibing his lessons of truth,
Out of the fulness of his strong brave soul
Pointing the way to some lofty goal,
Of his cheerless surroundings seeing naught,
Deep in a reverie, his senses caught
In a mesh of memories, sitting there
Half asleep in the Master’s chair.
“The Old Schoolmaster” is especially interesting to me. Ella attended B.B. Allen’s Academy in Vergennes, and in 1923 wrote an article about him in “The Vermonter (v.28, #3)” (I think it preceded “Vermont Life” as the state magazine. The research center at Sheldon Museum has a collection of them.) Benjamin Brocker Allen was born in Whiting, Vermont, in 1808. He was a botanist who especially loved Lake Champlain. He opened his school on the second floor of the Sherman Block on Main Street, Vergennes, in 1834. Tuition was $4.00 for 12 weeks. Mr. Allen, according to Ella, liked very much to teach elocution. He had one rule: “Mind thou thine own business.” On the last afternoon of each term, he warned “against the sin of intemperance, and talked to them from the hilltop and they went out of that schoolroom firm in the belief that no obstacles were insurmountable.” He died in 1869, and his funeral was in the Episcopal Church.
MISS LAURA
I can see her now, so thin and spare,
Her shrewd grey eyes that used to wear
The light of gladness so good to see
When she undid the door to welcome me.
Her sisters were carried out one by one
With pinching poverty forever done.
She kept her table with a white cloth spread
And plates for the sisters long since dead.
This may have been the reason why
She passed my often suggestion by,
With a knowing smile, a nod of the head,
“I do not want to move,” she said.
The house was old and scant her fuel,
Winters were cold, to her lameness cruel,
When the pipes burst from neighbors she brought
Water each day nor ever thought
That there might be a better place to stay,
That she could live in an easier way.
To the walls and her cat she oft made known
What she thought as she ate her dinner alone.
Her meals were plain with nothing to spare,
But she gave to her cat a liberal share.
Her sensitive soul from strangers withdrew,
Of her hardship and suffering not many knew.
She spent her days with memories fair,
In the dim old house . . .Death found her there.
BRONSON DELAMORE
When my health began to fail
I could look ahead and see the end of things.
It bothered me what to do with my possessions,
The old grouches died,
I had nieces and nephews,
They could use all I had gathered. . .
I must give it up,
I made my will,
I think it was a good will.
I had a good funeral
But I’ll never moulder in the grave . . .
My ashes are in an urn
Beside my wife!
NORMAN APPLEBEE
Poor Cornelia!
Cornelia was my wife!
I made life a burden to her.
I worked in a machine shop,
The wheels got into my head,
When I walked home at night
I kept thinking,
When I stamped in at the door
I saw her jump!
It filled me with glee
And I spat out at her
The last new torture
I had thought out!
It was the poker that did it . . .
I never dreamed she was so quick,
She sprang at me like a cat,
In that instant I was powerless . . .
The poker descended
And I crumpled,
A useless heap on the floor!
JEANETTE MARKHAM
We are creatures of the moment,
The pain of life forgetting,
All the giddy ways of youth,
The grief of death and parting,
The hurts from friend and foe,
The trials and sorrows of yesterday,
The lure of the passing show.
We are creatures of the moment,
We drift with the veering wind,
We imbibe the changing fancies
Of every transient hour,
We are little voices crying
In a heedless world of din
Till lost in endless sighing
The silence shuts us in.
The second one has a nice music, I think.
CURTIS
What happens to a man when he steps out?
No power is given him to warn to tell,
To tell the world or the friends bereft
What lies beyond the tomb.
That silent world to which he goes
Gives back no echo of his steps.
The playthings of his earthly life
Are dropt as children drop their toys,
His loves and hates no more exist.
As an empty flame burns out
For lack of fuel . . .He cares no more
To cherish good or ill.
His feet are still beneath the sod,
His soul has gone to meet its God.
MARIE DRAPER
Of what was my mother thinking
When I was growing up?
Did I add a drop of sorrow
To her over-brimming cup?
Into some path forbidden
Did she fear my feet would stray,
My thoughtless feet and wayward,
When I was young and gay?
I am sure that God is listening
When our mothers pray . . .
I never thought she’d leave me
Tho her hair was turning grey.
So silently she slipped away . . .
What a comfort it would be,
Could I call her back and tell her
How much she meant to me!
Sun June 24 Attend church.
And a poem from the Sketch Book, perhaps reflecting Ella’s attitude?
PARSON LONGDALE
The sons of men have become too wise,
They have eaten the forbidden fruit,
They are puffed up with much knowledge,
They have put away horses,
Only farmers need horses
And they also, have cars.
They travel from fifty
To seventy-five miles an hour,
They must have paved roads
And strong bridges,
They must have luxurious homes.
They could not live
As their forefathers lived . . .
Do they expect to live always?
Whose shall these things be?
WILLIAM HOPKINS
It is useless to worry and fret,
It is useless mistakes to repine,
It is better to live and forget . . .
I made no record of mine!
Medicine doesn’t amount to much,
It really is the human touch,
Sympathy when a man is ill
Rather than powder, drug and pill.
Often I had a story to tell,
It helped to make my patient well,
It gave him something to think about
Besides himself, when I went out.
Men of my profession
Are obliged to make concession,
Are obliged to confess
That we sometimes guess
And guess wrong!
Well, so long!
PASCHAL MAXFIELD
He is passing . . .Passing out!
Fainter comes each labored breath,
He will soon have passed beyond
This mystery that men call Death!
Dear God . . .and You,
Who have given years
And sleepless nights
Delving into the mystery
Of life and pain . . .!
Is there no remedy to check
The insiduous (sic), creeping thing
That changes the faces of my patients . . .
The men on the street . ..
Here one . . .another there . . ?
The slow wasting of the flesh . . .
The last sad mystery
That men call Death?
Lots of Doctor poems in this book–but then, there was lots of sickness around in those pre-antibiotic days.
Here he is!
MYRON VOLKA
My white hopes
Were gay pennants
Projecting from windows,
Hanging from roof tops,
Depending from trees
Along the wayside.
My trials were forgotten,
Each shining day
I grasped joy,
It came with the morning sunlight,
It fell softly over me
As I lay on my couch at night.
Then . . the Heavens opened!
A bright light
Like a flash of lightning,
Enveloped me
And I was translated!
JOHN WILSON
As the shadows longer grew
And I knew. . . .
I had found a sacred shrine
Just beneath my porch and vine,
Worn by many passing feet,
It had been a loved retreat
Many years,
Silent witness of the tears
In its shelter I had shed
When my feet, by Sorrow led,
Brought me there.
I saw waiting in my chair
On the worn and creaky floor
For a step that came no more.
Then I felt a marvelous thing
Soft as an angel’s wing
And I knew that SHE was there
Standing close beside my chair. . . .
Yes she had come
To lead me home!
HORACE HOLBROOKE
I have learned
That the world can do without us.
I made a little whirlwind
And kept the small space about me busy.
One day I dropped out.
I had friends,
A few days they spoke of me
In subdued tones,
Then they spoke of me no more.
The space that was mine is filled,
Even my belongings are scattered and gone.
Were I to return
I would have nothing.
I would have to make again
A place for myself.
I have learned
That the world can do without us.
JERRY GORDON
When love was young
I was gay and debonair.
The rainbow-tinted world was mine
And each new girl was fair.
When noons were glad
And days were spilling with delight,
When evenings fell in cadence soft
I loved the glamor of candle-light.
Gay, unheeding, careless world,
It rolls on today!
None will pause to remember me,
Now I have passed away.
The New Sketch Book was published when Ella Fisher was 76 years old.
SAINT JULIAN
A few are left who remember yet
When I was young and fair,
My sprightly step, my ready wit,
My deft and tender care.
I saw them taken one by one,
Neighbors, companions, friends,
I attended them with loving hands
To where life’s journey ends.
Age marked my face with lines,
She took my tasks away,
They lay in ruins at my feet . . .
She laughed at my dismay.
When silent Death beside me stood
I was bowed with many years
And few were left of those I served
To shed regretful tears.
JOHN DAMON
“Do we know in whom we have believed
and are we persuaded?”
Why need we longer doubt
Though man has evaded
And pushed into the background
Life’s most important fact,
While he goes about his business
With dull unfitted tact?
From his heritage of sinning
It brings him no surcease,
It brings him no repentance,
No happiness or peace.
It emanates from subtle powers
Of evil in the world
And finds a place to germinate
In the heart of man encurled.
And man, who loves his freedom
And resents the least approach
Of the small and silent Voice,
Lest it should encroach
On the way he loves to travel
To reach some worldly goal. . .
He really hasn’t time
To attend to his soul!
Sun July 1 Attend church. Lena, (Homer) & 2 children with Aunt Emma give us a call P.M.
IN JULY
“What is so rare as a day in June.”
Days in July,
When the sunlit sky
Is bending low
To kiss the fields and gardens
Where sweet blooms grow,
Bending above the lily fronds
Lying prone on sylvan ponds,
On winding streams,
And gleams
On shining reels
The fishing boats betray.
Across the water steals
A song. . .
Idle, happy notes
That someway belong
To lovers’ throats.
Vacation days,
When sunlight rays
Thru lacing branches drift
On winding trail
And opening rift,
Some quiet shore reveals,
Where evening steals
So softly down,
And in her crown
A brilliant star
Shining in the blue afar,
Herald of the night,
The shutting down of day. . .
The moonlit track across the Bay
And moonlight thru the open door
White upon the Cottage floor.
I love this poem. It’s from “Homeland in the North.”
On this day in 1955, Benjamin died.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon, July 2 Simonds & Peterson go to Camp & Helen goes with them. Henry takes down the baggage. Churn. Two wheelmen stop in the yard to rest. One of them was hurt from falling.
Henrietta was born on July 2, 1888.
Tues. July 3 Wash &ct
ALONE
Others may seek the moving crowds
Where wit and beauty meet,
The market place, the gay salon,
The hum of the busy street. . .
I long for the plaint of old Champlain
Along a rock ribbed shore,
To hear the wind a-sighing low
Thru the murmuring pines once more.
I long for the restful stillness,
As the hush that follows prayer,
For paths that lead thru twilight woods
Away from anywhere.
I want to hear the crickets sing,
The quiet hum and drone
Of busy things upon the wing . . .
I want to be alone!
With all those kids, I’ll bet she did!
Wed., July 4 Gertrude Benjamin Anna & I go to Camp (W) after dinner. Grace there. Stay to (tea). Hattie & Lou at the house.
I think the “W” stands for Windemere, which she mentions now and then in diaries. The camp was on Kingsland Bay.
Here’s a Lake poem,–an unrhymed ones–from “Idylls of Champlain.”
A PICTURE
The water laps softly on the beach,
And from my feet a shimmering track
Sparkles and scintillates
Across the Bay in the moonlight.
Back in the dim woods
Are shadowy aisles
Where the crickets are singing,
And now and then a glow worm
Glistens in the path.
There are no lights in the Cottage;
The broad Lake lies silent
Beneath the stars;
The pines nod softly to each other,
For God has descended from His Heaven.
Thurs, July 5 Iron &ct. Attend Prayer Meeting. Gertrude & Henrietta go with me.
And another New Sketch Book poem:
HARRY DUNKIRK
“Well, what do I get out of it?”
I heard it casually
Nor did I realize its import . . .
I had absorbed a germ!
It worked silently and in the dark,
Slowly it changed my life,
I began to look for my share of things,
Then my share grew to dimensions.
I looked for margin in business transactions,
Men said I was successful,
I was a good business man,
They did not know the true inwardness of things.
My mind was not large enough
To contain the germ I had absorbed!
It crowded out
All the finer things of life!
“Take heed and beware of covetousness!”
Fri., July 6 Bake A.M. Churn. Very hot. Attend Mission Circle at Mrs. A Ross P.M. Mrs. Jenkins talks on China.
And from The New Sketch Book:
WALLACE DUNMORE
“How long is a day?”
It looked like rain!
The ten-acre lot was mowed,
The hay was just right to get in.
We worked like beavers,
When the rain came
The last load was safe
In the barn!
It came in torrents!
It poured floods
For about ten minutes!
Then the sun came out,
It was too wet to mow,
We went fishing.
Devica wanted some work done
In the house.
She always wanted something!
I was tired of it!
I was tired that day anyway.
There is a deep pool in the river . . .
No one noticed when I slipped in . . . .!
“How long is a day?”
Sat., July 7 Bathing mending mopping & lamps & many other things. Very, very hot. Go down street with Grace in the evening. Come home & sit up until midnight getting my S. S. lesson.
And here’s the wife of the fellow in yesterday’s poem:
DEVICA DUNMORE
Mother told me to draw a tight rein.
I tried to
But I had better not.
The day he went fishing
Jack and the hired man
Went with him.
They thought he fell in accidentally!
Don’t I know . . . . ?
He did it because of me!
They dragged the river
And brought him home
With the string of fish
He left on the bank . . . .!
I drew the rein too tight!
Sun, July 8 Attend church all but Henry. We have Mrs. Jenkins in our S S & Mrs. Woodman acts as Supt. Carry Grace to Porter’s & Ruth to Camp. A sudden shower wets us through.
Someday maybe I’ll find out if this is the Woodman for whom “Woodman Hill” is named.
Here’s another rather curious one from “The Sketch Book:”
UNDEE WALLACE
I tortured myself!
The mistakes I made in ignorance,
The blunders of each day;,
At night came trooping past
As on my bed I lay,
Magnified tenfold
By some demon of unrest
With vain repining and regret
They stung my stricken breast.
I thought myself a blot
In every place I went
Until at last I hid myself,
To live alone content.
But in this passing hour
A clearer light I see . . .
My malady has been
Mental deficiency!
Mon., July 9 Bake bread & cook for Camp & send them down to (Stibbens) Put up 5 qt cans of cherries. Wash buggy & go up in the pasture & dig up a lilli (sic); set it in the front yard. Raspberry shortcake for tea. Henry goes to Middlebury, gets his appointment as Dept. Sheriff.
There are daylilies all along the lower part of Green St., and I wonder if they grew from Ella’s lilli.
From the “New Sketch Book:”
GAIL UMSTEAD
“Man that is in honour and understandeth
it not, is like the beasts that perish.”
“Come up higher!”
Did that mean me?
All these years
Have I humbled myself in the dust
Thinking that I belonged there . . .
Thinking humility a virtue
And now, at this late day,
With the sunlight on the western slopes,
I awaken to a call
From the silences of lost years.
Blindness has been my affliction,
Stupidity my foe.
I will take my place
In the scheme of things,
Knowing that it is rightfull mine.
“Come up higher!”
And I did!
Tues, July 10 Wash. Mrs. Ladou helps. I mop the kitchen.
JOSHUA GOLDSMITH
A Master Mind is in the world,
He knows all research.
All knowledge and all power are His.
He holds a mantle
For the shoulders of the man
Who can follow,
And the pathway is blazed,
An open trail.
No man need grope in the dark.
To the persistent
Will come the awards
And the world will reap
The benefit.
FRANCES WILTON
I was Joshua Goldsmith’s stenographer.
He sat late in his Laboratory;
Before him were testing tubes,
Poisons and sealed bacteria,
Glasses of liquid,
Vials and powders.
His brow was knitted in perplexity
And his eyes were fathomless wells.
The midnight passed,
He noticed it not!
The morning dawned . . .
He was still searching
For the blazed pathway
And the open trail!
I was his stenographer!
No diary entry today. Here’s a poem–something about this one is quite touching:
MICHIEL (sic) MAHONEY
Blue overalls I used to don,
(Hup da’re! Hup da’re!)
Down the road I drove them on,
The patient cows at milking time,
(Hup da’re! Hup da’re!)
Ding dong! ding dong!
The factory’s closing chime!
Ding dong! ding dong!
How it cheers!
I heard it ring as I hobbled on
Down the drifting years
Until
My feet grew still.
(Hup da’re! Hup da’re!)
Though my lips are dumb
The cows will come. . .
(Hup da’re! Hup da’re!)
Some other man will drive them home.
The candles burn at my head and feet,
A long white shroud is my winding sheet,
The cows come home by the same old route
And the neighbors tip-toe in and out.
Thurs, July 12 Attend prayer meeting. Mrs. Bartlett starts for Maine to night.
ALBERT FORTESCUE
We had a home but it was so quiet!
No children’s voices broke the stillness!
Then one morning a basket
Was left on our doorstep!
It contained a tiny girl
And some clothing marked, “Delphine!”
We heard no rumors,
We made no inquiries,
The Lord directed the steps
Of some one in trouble!
The child grew into our hearts
And we adopted her,
She filled the house with sunshine,
And the years with laughter,
Life was centered in her,
Her mates in school,
Her friends in college .. .
Decorators . . .dressmakers . .
Caterers and parties!
And
A quiet wedding. . .
Quiet enough for any girl
Who elopes
With a chauffeur!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri, July 13 Go after Grace: her school closes. Take Benjamin & leave him in the pasture to find his way to the cottage. Get caught in the rain.
Poor Benjamin. I don’t know yet where Grace’s school was. July seems quite late for it to be closing.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat., July 14 Very hot. Go out in the field after berries Henrietta & I. Ruth comes home from Ferrisburg. Do some cooking & mending & help wash the buggie (sic).
I find these odd spellings of Ella’s interesting, since she was a teacher, and is usually so careful about things.
Sun July 15 Attend church. A very warm day. Grace goes in the evening & Mrs. Woodman brings her home. Bid Mrs. Jenkins Goodbye.
FENTON JENNIFER
When I fell ill
They took me to the hospital.
They said I would have good care
And skilful doctors
And the right sort of food.
The hospital is a haven of refuge
In the hour of need.
I had time to ponder
And ask questions
That no one answered!
Why do nurses apply one rule
To the weak and frail
And the strong and husky?
Is it because reason and common sense
Come only with years?
Nurses are young!
It may be that is why
They are nurses.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., July 16 Wash. Henry & I & Ruth go to the Lake. Rains. Bake bread.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues., July 17 Churn. Bake &ct. Iron. Mend, &ct. Hattie falls from the front step.
By my calculations, Hattie is pregnant.
Wed., July 18 Bake. Finish ironing &ct. Go to see Hattie. Find her all right. Gertrude & I go to the Lake & Ruth & Benjamin go up.
HER VOICE
Thru smiles and tears
And successive years,
Day upon day,
I heard my mother say
“Do this thing that way,
The other one so!”
I tried to obey,
Nor could I remember
The things that she said
I wanted love
And a kiss instead.
The swift years fled
Into the past
And then came silence,
So still, so vast!
Vacuum filled
The lonely place
Where last I saw
My mother’s face.
Her silvered hair
Was white as snow
And now I know
The things she said.
Each day
Her voice I hear . . .
Tho years have fled
I can follow
Where she led!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs., July 19 A quiet day in Camp. Visitors from Burlington & the Graves girls come over. Mend old stockings. Henry comes at night. A beautiful day.
Fri., July 20 Make a sheet. Pick currants to-day on Graves place. Rain P.M. Abe comes at night.
Sat., July 21 Go to Vergennes P.M. with Anna & get home to supper. Churn after supper Study the S.S. lesson. Help put up currants &ct.
They are going “to Vergennes” from their camp on Kingsland Bay.
Here’s a poem:
JOHN MUNNYMEAD
I was concerned with life!
Does that man live, with normal mind,
Who does not find
Himself entangled and entwined
With worldly care and strife?
Wife and children . . .home!
With these I was endowed.
Deep rooted in my heart,
(And of it I was proud)
The ability to give to them
Their rightful place. To educate
Each child, on their mother to bestow
And provide things up to date.
My dreams at night were shotted thru
With plans to add and add
More and more and more!
My thoughts by day were clad
And with figures studded o’er,
My vacation days were stressed
With ways and means and schemes
That gave my brain no rest.
And then the tension snapped,
It came so swift and tense . . .
Against that mighty crushing power
My barren soul had no defense,
Nor could I tell if there would be
Somewhere a recompense for me.
Sun July 22 Attend church. Mr. Bartlett’s last Sabbath with us until Sept. Henry & I drive to the cottage. Change Henrietta for Gertrude. Get home at 10 o’clock P.M.
And–
TIMOTHY BARTON
A man and his mother once took up their abode
In a little log house by the side of the road.
Perhaps some one may be living to-day
Who remembers the niche so close to the way,
And the shack beside it where Timothy’s steed
Was hobbled and harnessed and given his feed.
Sometimes when Timothy drove to town
He brought home cloth for a calico gown,
On which his mother, with patient care,
Slowly stitched for herself to wear.
Except the clothes in which they were clad
They wanted little and little they had,
Knowing little and little known,
With no initiative of their own . . .
To fill God’s plan for a little space,
Then to vanish and leave no trace.
Mon., July 23 Wash, mop, bake &ct. Bake (mostly) all day, also many other things. Go to the cottage after supper. Get there just at dark.
The cross-out is hers. I think she did more than one entry on the 24th, and got the days mixed up.
Here’s a poem:
DON GORDON
My sister and I lived for years alone
In a little place that was all our own.
I tried to buy her interest out
But she was torn by fear and doubt,
That I, in my loneliness needed her care
And she refused to sell her share.
I liked the girls! In my younger days
I sometimes took one to parties or plays,
I often called on a certain shy Miss
Who objected to spooning, or even a kiss.
One day when I went calling there
She silently removed the chair
Where I intended to sit and ask if she,
Sometime in the future, would marry me.
The impact was sudden! I sat on the floor
And vowed in my soul that nevermore
Would I submit to a prank like that,
And smiled and visited where I sat.
Three months later I called again,
Then she told me straight and plain,
She was soon to marry another man.
“Would I give my blessing on the ban?”
Well, I decided my sister knew best,
I needed a home of quiet and rest.
I gave up the thought of taking a wife
To make disturbance and stir up strife,
My sister was always staunch and true,
I gave her the place when I was through.
Tues., July 24 Bake all day & go to the cottage after supper. Reach camp at dark & find every one gone to bed.
I wonder if she took the carriage herself, or rode horseback? It must have been a lovely drive on a summer evening.
I love these two poems:
MRS. DAVID HOPEWELL
I kept house by schedule,
A time for everything and everything done in its allotted
time,
A place for everything and everything in its place.
No cobwebs hung from the ceilings, no smudged window-
panes and no baseboards with a mourning border.
No tarnishel (sic) silver and no rough baking tins.
The Boy and his father were orderly, always they hung
up their hats and coats and kept their things put away.
The Boy spent a lot of time somewhere else, he used to
say that he came home to think.
It was quiet. I never could abide noise, but when the
Boy took a wife . . .Well, she wasn’t properly trained!
I kept them at home for a few weeks, that I might im-
press her with my ways of doing things.
It was no use. They had to rent a place. The Boy said
she must learn by experience.
Well, experience is a dear teacher. It upset me so to see
the state of her house that I was glad I had no time
to visit.
David spent his spare time reading. I had so little that I
never wasted any of it reading cheap literature.
I had a few choice books and I kept the covers dusted,
when the neighbors called it gave them something to
think about.
The schedule was too strenuous. It intruded (sic) on my hours
of sleep, instead of sleeping I planned work for the
next day.
When I fell ill I remember wondering if David would
take a second wife and if she would keep the silver
bright.
He did and she didn’t.
MRS. DAVID HOPEWELL, JR.
Life was a beautiful dream. . . I wanted it to last.
The sunshine was a delight and the out-of-doors was
always calling me.
I hurried thru the work and stowed things out of sight.
I knew there was a litter of discarded stuff in the
storeroom, but life was so short I had no time to
attend to it.
When guests came I gave them the best we had. The
silver wasn’t always bright and the mending piled
itself in unexpected places. I had no time to put it
away.
Well, the truth must be told, I wasn’t a good housekeeper,
but we had such a good time living that no one
seemed to care.
The children played in the sand, and in the water.
They came in with their hands and faces all dirt and their
clothes were a sight.
They ate between meals and brought in hungry children
to share their lunches.
David laughed. He said he wanted them to be happy,
there would be time enough to be sorrowful after
they had grown up.
With all respect to his mother, he said he wasn’t happy at
home.
I hope it will not counted against me, but I wasn’t a
good housekeeper.
Filed under: Photos
Today I returned a book to Ella’s grandson’s widow, and she loaned me a few more things, including this photo of “Ella Warner Fisher Birthplace in West Ferrisburg.” 
Wed., July 25 Helen Gertrude & I go home in time for supper. Rains nearly all day.
On July 25, 1891, Benjamin was born.
EGBERT HAUNTINGTON
I was a tippler!
The fellows at the Club
Were gay and congenial,
We had our liquors
And cigars
And cards.
My head was frightfully big those mornings,
It took several drinks
To straighten me out.
Then I met her!
She was a vision!
Words have no meaning,
They do not describe her,
I followed her everywhere.
I forgot the Club
And the fellows,
I almost forgot the drink.
We were married!
Amid the June flowers
And the smiling faces of friends
We were like happy children
On a holiday.
Our home was a dream of delight,
It was full a cosy (sic) corners
Where a man could rest
After a day in the office.
Then the fellows came!
The Club held a banquet for me.
After two or three drinks
I lost control.
I never remembered
How they carried me home.
I awoke in the morning with a big head.
She sat beside me,
The color was gone from her cheeks,
In her big sorrowful eyes were no tears,
But after that I went often to the Club.
I was a tippler!
She fell ill.
Her step grew unsteady.
Then slowly she went mad!
I staid (sic) at home,
I tried to bring her back . . .
It was too late.
She died of a broken heart!
Since then it is many years.
Her face goes before me
As I walk along the street,
Lest I lose sight of it
I do not look at the people I meet.
Like a blur before my eyes
It is painted on the skies,
It looks at me from the newspaper,
It glances across the pages of the magazine.
Sometimes the lips are smiling
And the eyes are bright,
Again they are big and sorrowful,
But they are always there.
I have never looked at the liquor
Since the day she left me . .
The smell of it makes me ill
And I am an old man!
. . . . . .
An old man bent with years
Seeing no one he meets,
Intently gazing at something ahead
As he passes along the streets!
Thurs., July 26 Grace & Helen go to the cottage A.M. Sweep chambers & halls. Clear out mop dining room. Make cake, &ct. Grace, Helen, Harold & Helena come at 6 o’clock. Tuttle goes to Montpelier.
I’m going to try to find the Fisher’s camp.
And from the New Sketch Book–a Cautionary Tale:
REGGIE TELLING
What she admired or saw in me . . .
I was older far than she.
The best of youth I had frittered away,
Like withered leaves the bright years lay
A crooked trail, a tangled swath!
A travesty of broken troth!
She married me! On our wedding day
She had enough to keep away
The wolf. I had no need to slave,
I scarcely had the pride to shave.
My clothes were rusty and went unpressed,
My step grew slouchy with the rest,
A piece of floating driftwood, I,
On whom a woman could not rely.
Now I am shaved and dressed and dead,
A satin pillow beneath my head!
In softened tones she bends to say
He looks as he did on our wedding day!”
Too late!. . . .The dead have no regret. . .
Could I have lived . . . and yet . . .and yet!
Fri., July 27 Henry brings up (??) family to Ferrisburg station. Helen & I call on Hattie after supper. Hud comes on her (whim) & goes to Burlington.
LILLIS WRAYMORE
My life was like a golden bird,
My heart was glad and true.
From out my joyous throat I poured
My sweetest songs for you.
You shut me in a gilded cage,
Nor saw my drooping wing,
How could you hope to hear again
The songs I used to sing?
You shut me in a gilded cage,
The door made fast and tied . . .
Imprisoned love will never sing . . .
Mourn not because I died!
Filed under: The New Sketch Book
I’ve noticed that there are people finding this site through searches of various names. These are poems written by Ella Warner Fisher in the early 1900′s. In her introduction to the book, she writes,
EXPLANATORY
Some of the sketches in the following pages are a memorial to those who lived, loved and died before us, inscribed “lest we forget.”
The others are purely fictitious, samples of human nature, with no reference to, or reflection on any person, living or dead.
E.W. F.
Just thought you might like to know!
Sat, July 28 Helen has a bad attack of sick headache but goes home to B. on 6 P.M. train.
This Helen is Ella’s sister, I believe–it can get confusing because she also has a daughter Helen.
I now have in my possession a diary written in 1903 by Loraine Satterly, the grandmother of Ella’s daughter Henrietta’s husband Karl Field. I’ll post a few entries in the days ahead. Meanwhile, another poem from The Sketch Book:
JAMES ALLIER
Our worst enemy is from within,
Creeping snake-like into our lives,
Tinging us with suspicion and doubt,
Doubt of our dearest friends.
Once it gets lodged in the breast
Suspicion breeds unrest.
Its surging madness
Entered the heart of me.
I suspected every one
Except myself . . .
Men and motives, even God . . .
Distorted, tinged and colored
With doubt and distrust!
Pray God to keep your soul
Above suspicion!
Sun July 29 Attend church. Mr. Archibald speaks to us. Maud & Addie call.
SILAS BURNS
A man needn’t bother to worry
If he’s nothing to worry about,
And he needn’t bother to work
If he can live without.
I never took a long job,
I never worked all day,
I mostly made a living on
What wastrels threw away.
My wife was frugal too,
She never cared for dress,
Nor any foolish gew-gaws
Her refinement to express.
She spent her time in reading,
I picked up books and such,
It gave our place an air I liked,
A superlative sort of a touch.
And we were just as happy
As most of the folks in town,
Though I never owned a mansion
Or my wife a silken gown.
It need not be hard to figure
Why we should worry and save
To lie in a borrowed coffin
And sleep in a pauper’s grave.
It’s hard to tell if Ella approved of these people she writes of. Certainly she disapproved of drunkenness and laziness, but folks like “Silas” are more complex.
Mon, July 30 Wash & mop. A hot day & a tired one.
MORTIMER DANFORTH
Time passes,
A fleeting breath, a flying myth,
Whose ever retreating footsteps
From far distances
Send tantalizing echoes back
To straining ears.
Before Time were we,
A conception in the mind of God.
Let Time pass, O living men!
Drop the ceaseless strain,
Live in the present hour
And patiently work out
That high destiny
Intended by the Creator!
He never planned the stress and strain
That breaks a man or woman
And renders them unfit . .
The tension drawn too tight
Must snap,
As it did with me!
Tues., July 31 Iron. Churn. Bake. Bella Blakely calls on Grace. Ruth goes to Basin Harbor. Pike for dinner. Another hot day.
JOAN DUPREY
My love was brilliant, wise and witty,
An office holder in our city,
Everywhere acclaimed, applauded,
Socially we both were lauded,
Friends about us everywhere.
Life and homage our full share,
Honored woman . . . happy wife!
Such was my outlook on life.
In our cellar wines were stored,
Always served upon our board.
Love and I grew fond of drinking,
Grew and drifted all unthinking.
Long we trusted in our prestige,
Clinging to the ragged vestige
Of the social robes we wore
And the proud old name we bore.
Then when wine became our master
It wrought havoc and disaster,
It wrought poverty and shame.
Oft in hiding when the came,
Friends to our once open door
Ceased to come . . . came no more.
We were ostracized, forsaken,
By our folly overtaken,
In nameless depths forever sunken,
In sorrows buried, always drunken!
Dark the way that we have traveled,
Sad the web we left unraveled.
There are no entries for a few days:
AUGUST
Vast star-gemmed arch of Heaven,
Moonlit radiance sifting down
On the farms along the river,
On the quiet sleeping town,
On the silver sheeted waters
And the camps along the shore;
August lingering in the offing,
Smiling on the world once more!
Turbid, stormy, weeping August!
Gale-driven, hurrying past,
With the years of other Augusts
Into discard sweeping fast!
Smiling on this night of splendor,
Moonlit radiance sifting down,
Like a benediction resting
On the river and the town.
DORIS WARE
I would not ask a golden crown
Could I the Heavenly Presence gain,
But just the touch of His cool hand
To take away the earthly stain
Of every glaring fault of mine.
It were enough
From these things to be shriven
And in His holy Presence stand
With all my sins forgiven!
SALOME REVERE
Beside the waters we stood,
The velvet grass about our feet
And still deep tides reflected the blue
Of summer skies . . .
Silent lying in glittering sheen,
A mirror reflecting your face and mine,
Giving back to us in faithful similitude
Our happiness, line on line.
. . . . . . . . .
Beside the waters alone I stand,
Velvet grass about my feet.
Their rippling sheen has caught the flame
Of sunset in the western sky,
It must be here, “The pastures green,”
The “waters still” where I may lie
In peace and safety while the night
Folds over me her sable screen.
These are the last two poems in “The New Sketch Book.”
ALMIRA HULBURD
She brought a burst of sunshine
When she came within the door,
It touched with gold the furnishings,
It shone across the floor.
It filled the little morning room
With a nameless charm and grace
And how it seemed to glorify
Her wrapt and earnest face.
She brought a burst of sunshine
And her words of hope and cheer
Like oil on troubled waters fell,
She knew not doubt or fear.
In passing years the words are lost
As she knelt beside her chair
And asked that God would kindly bless
The inmates dwelling there.
In passing years the words are lost
As she knelt beside her chair,
But a listening ear in Heaven heard
And the words are recorded there.
The blessing she asked that sunny morn
As she went upon her way,
Has survived the march of time and death
And lingers there today.
JEROD WONDEL
We are the work of His hands.
Whatever we may have accomplished
Is due,
Not to our credit,
But to His.
What we might have accomplished
Had we been less wayward,
No man can estimate.
Our waywardness
Hindered and handicapped
The work of His hands.
It is ever thus with man. . .
He wants his own way,
If God lets him have it
And things go wrong
He blames god
Instead of himself.
I found this out
Too late!
Sun Aug 5 Ruth & Grace attend M.E. church. Sara Preston talks. Stay at home with the children.
Now that I’ve posted all “The New Sketch Book” poems, I’m going to do the “Castles in Memory” ones, this time in order. The book was published in 1931 by The Driftwind Press in North Montpelier, Vermont.
On the very front page: “To those who have traveled far from home this book is inscribed.”
The Introduction by Walter J. Coates:
Wherever there is a Vermonter who delights in pictures conjured up from the past, there is a person who ought to be interested in this book. Whoever likes to visualize the eccentricities and revel in the reminiscences of those generations who built Vermont, erected its homes, churches, schools . . . .who gave color to its old taverns, its “steeples among the hills,” its stone and brick houses, its wooden bridges . . . such persons will, by the same token, find something to appreciate in the poetical sketches set down in these pages.
Mrs. Fisher has put together here some of her impressions concerning the relics and life values about her. Her interpretations are true Vermontiana, for she brings back to our eyes and minds not only the old landmarks, but makes olden institutions rise before us in their pristine color, endows them with real spirit, and peoples the mellow hills and vales of her Champlain country with pictures long since departed and forgotten. Colored by her faithful brush, they stand
“. . .young forever in the flush that falls
Across the world from an immortal west.”
February 3, 1931
Mon, Aug 6 A fearful hot day. Wash & mop. A severe storm at night with high wind, doing much damage & sharp lightning. Strikes Homer Bostwick’s house & barns: burns up; no insurance.
The first poem in “Castles in Memory”
REPRESSION
Something struggling, ever struggling
in the inner breast of man.
Inheritance of ancestors who tamed
the pristine wilderness
and built their homes of logs
amid the snows.
Inheritance of silent voices of rocks
and trees and hills
up and down the quiet vales
of old Vermont.
Inheritance too sacred to flaunt
in public places
where careless hordes are scattered
who never understand.
Tues, Aug 7 Raining good & hard all day. Ruth goes to Cedar Beach.
TRACES
‘People, dear people, who lived here before us,
Let your stout mantle forever fall o’er us’
Traces we find in our valleys upflung,
Grass grown cellars our hillsides among,
A dry cobble stone well built ages ago,
A wayside flower that used to grow
Beside some pathway that led to the door
Of a house that now exists no more.
There’s many a rill whose onward way
Bears trace of a bridge in that far day,
Some roadway that into the wilderness led
In smooth green acreage now outspread.
Crumbling walls near the shorre of Champlain . . .
Years of bleaching and weather staiin
Cannot efface the events they recall . . .
A sacred rrelic is the old stone wall!
A trail that leads to some lonely cave
Whose quiet and safety to our forefathers gave
A council chamber where plans were laid.
From their work and plans our State is made . . .
An intrepid people, not easy to daunt . . .
Rugged and beautiful, brave Vermont!
******************************************
Huddle of graves whose moss grown stones
Nobody cares for, nobody owns.
Neglected places! O let us keep
Green the graves where our forefathers sleep!
Wed, Aug 8 Showery. Have sick headache & lie abed, so nothing is done. Grace attending teachers exams.
IN VERMONT
Lost in the grandeur of the hills,
Wrapped in the vision that beauty spills
Down the vistas stretching away
Into the gold of a summer day.
Homes in meadows of velvet green,
Roadway winding the farms between,
Glimmer of water in a river bed
Catching the blue of the sky overhead.
Waving fields of shimmering corn,
Bronze-green in the flush of morn,
Pasture slopes where cattle feed,
Whispering ines and lanes that lead
Into some shaded woodland glen
Shut away from the haunts of men,
Ferns and flowers deck the mould,
Odorous sweets the sense hold.
Man has builded the city walls,
God from a leaf-strewn bower calls
To a place of restfulness and peace
Where souls may find a blest release,
Fatigue and fret and all life’s ills
Lost and forgotten amid the hills!
Thurs Aug 9 A hot day. Attend Prayer Meeting Mrs. K children & I. Go up to the stores after. Mrs. (Hind) is sick. Grace attends teacher’s examination. Benjamin sticks a needle into his leg out of sight. Dr. Gibson cuts it open takes out the needle & sews up the gash.
IN FAIRFIELD
Three girls and a square piano
Sang an old familiar tune
With the windows thrown wide open
On an afternoon in June.
When the stage came down from Richford
And the driver drew his rein
In the sunlight warm and golden . . .
How the chorus rang again!
O, the sun of June is golden!
And the skies of June are blue!
But no skies can ere outrival
Those our happy girlhood knew,
When before the square piano
In a house I used to know,
ur voices rang together . . .
“In The Louisiana Lowlands, low!“
About 1866
(The link shows words and music to a song we would NOT sing today.)
I was planning to put the “Castles” poems in order, but the one for today is definitely an October poem. Even though this is a June one, here in Vermont it’s feeling like June, finally. Ella had two sisters, and she attended St. Albans Academy, near Fairfield, and her son Ben became mayor of St. Albans. I still haven’t worked out the family’s connection, though it sounds as if there were relatives there–or maybe Ella herself lived in Fairfield for awhile.
Fri, Aug 10 A hot day. Work in the hen houses P.M. Lie down for an hour then get supper. Little Ellen (Porter) comes to visit the children & is taken home at bedtime. Mrs. Woodman calls.
A DAY IN JUNE
O, lend me a day in June
And the brush of a Hand Divine,
To tint the mountains a robin’s-egg blue
While the sun remembers to shine:
When the hills all decked in green,
With the bronze of the stately pine
In restful contrast between
The winding roadway line.
O, lead me in sunny vales
With homes along the way
Where busy men in the meadows
Are turning the new mown hay.
Perhaps there’ll be a waving field
Where yellow daisies blow,
Where hidden in the uncut grass
The sweet wild strawberries grow.
O, lend me a day in June
With vistas of shining streams,
Where here and there a mirrored lake
In sheeted silver gleams:
O, lend me a day in June
With mountains a robin’s-egg blue,
On some shaded hillside in Vermont
And a loaf to share with you.
Sat, Aug 11 A very hot day. Do some baking & several other things. Churn &ct. Go down street P.M. & meet train for Ruth at 7 o’clock 7 is nearer 8. Supper late & work late.
GRANDFATHER’S HOUSE
It stood back in the meadow
With its broad spacious stoep
And its small paned windows
Facing the westering sun.
At the kitchen window was a climbing rose
Whose crimson petals sweet
Were scattered by the summer winds
On the door stone at my feet.
It was at Grandfather’s house
Where happiness came unsought,
It fell with the sunlight into my lap,
Like over ripe fruit from a laden bough,
It blossomed in the wildflowers
That spangled the meadow’s area,
It gilded the seat beneath the lilacs,
The nooks and crannies around the farm,
The stanchions where the oxen fed.
It came with the cattle up the lane
When the bars were shut a milking time . . .
When the long bright day was over
And I sank to rest on my pillow soft,
Breathing a long sigh of happiness.
Sun, Aug 12 Cool & beautiful. Go down to S. S. with Anna & Henrietta. After dinner we all go to Ben’s. Leave Henrietta. Jim falls down & breaks the shaft on the new buggay (sic) in front of (Den) Woodman’s. They help us out & lend us their carriage. Some frightened but no one is hurt.
A HOUSE OF STONE
O, give me a house of old grey stone
From some fort along the shore!
It’s the kind of a house I’d delight to own
With an open welcoming door,
Where I could watch the white caps roll
In the path of a sudden storm,
Nor long to seek some far-off goal
In my shelter safe and warm.
With broad oak sills its windows deep
My work and my book to hold,
While Champlain’s waves would be lulled to sleep
With the mists of evening scrolled.
And darkening hills to meet the night
Would rise dim and dimmer grow . . .
I love the shadows and the light
With a fireplace log aglow.
O, give me a pine on the sunrise side
With boughs that are thick and deep,
For the Chickadees a place to hide,
At night a place to sleep;
O, give me a house of old grey stone
By Champlain’s waters bright!
And b ecause I could not live a lone
I’d set for you a light!
Fri, Aug17 Go down & spend the afternoon with Hattie. Gertrude goes to the station to meet Ruth and carries me home. I meet Helen at the 3 P.M. train.
Ella Warner Fisher’s mother was Zeruah Barnes, born in Ferrisburg in 1831.
PIONEERS
They came to Vermont
When the country was new,
When over the hillsides
The forest grew.
They came to Vermont
When the snows were deep
And the ice-bound rivers
Were locked in sleep.
The roads were a slough . . .
Through the wilderness led.
They traveled in jeopardy,
Their all on a sled.
I cannot tell . . .
God only knows
How they built their homes
Amid the snows!
There were sixteen children
And some were grown,
They erected houses
Of their own.
They married and settled
Living side by side,
Their acres covered
A section wide.
Long years they thrived
Living side by side,
They planned and wrought
And loved and died.
Some were driven by wanderlust
To separate from the rest,
They went forth as pioneers
To make a home in the West.
O, where are they now?
The acres they tilled,
The houses they built
And the graves they filled?
The acres the tilled
Still yield their increase,
Planting and harvest
Till time shall cease.
Of the houses they built
Nor stick, nor stone . . .
Not a vestige is left
That they called their own.
The graves they filled,
Scattered wide and low,
Some of them nameless
Where wild creepers grow.
The years have flown,
They have juggled and tossed
Till the House of Barnes
Is merged and lost.
Came James Barnes from Connecticut, in December, 1706, with his family on a sled.
I now have in my possession (to be handed over to the Ferrisburgh Historical Society once I’ve finished copying it) a diary written in 1903 by Loraine Satterly, the grandmother of Henrietta Fisher’s future husband, Karl. Here’s an entry for today, and a poem about the Satterly House by Ella, from “Castles in Memory.”
Tues., Aug. 18 A lovely day- Eva (Karl’s mother) went to Jared’s when R. M. (I think Loraine’s husband) went to creamery to help Phila get ready for Home gathering of the Adams & the Williams at Thompsons point.
SATTERLY HOUSE
It is standing back among the hills,
The quaint old house I know,
Its friendly doors were opened wide
A hundred years ago.
Behind a dear old fashioned latch
Its rooms the imprint wear
Of the men and women of yesterday
Who once were dwellers there.
The easy chair by the fireplace,
The log that’s burning bright,
Is a place to dream the hours away
Nor worry at their flight.
It may be the blush of morningtide
Across the sunrise hills,
Or in the gold of departing day
That over its threshold spills.
It may be the touch of hominess,
The book and the easy chair,
That eyes grown weary with the world
may rest in comfort there.
It may be in the friendliness,
The love light in glad eyes,
The magic touch of happiness
That in the old house lies.
It is standing back among the hills,
The dear old house I know,
It keeps the charm, in its spacious rooms,
Of a hundred years ago.
Sun, Aug 19 Ruth Grace, Benjamin, Gertrude & Helen attend Congo church. Hud & I go down to S. S. at our own church. Gertrude & Helen drive out to Ben’s after dinner. Write to Ashton (Father), Carrie & Lulu Durand.
A TRIBUTE TO BYRON L. CLARK
O’er Vermont’s green hills and valleys
Summer days are drawing near,
All the camps will smile in greeting
When the lads come back this year,
But Abnaki wears the willow
And a new-made grave is there,
Just a handful of white ashes,
Just a sacred shrine of prayer.
They will miss the friendly greeting,
They will miss the genial smile,
Tho Abnaki bids them welcome,
Bids them tarry for a while.
O, they’ll miss the helpful guidance,
But his spirit, always brave,
Lingers still, and all his fineness
Is not buried in a grave!
Fellowship with all earth’s peoples
With their bright flags hanging there,
Fellowship with God’s creation . . .
Come, ye lads, from everywhere!
You can carry on the service
That his loving hands laid down
When he reached them up to Heaven
To accept a victor’s crown.
Softly lave, O, silver waters
On Abnaki’ peaceful shore!
Sacred dust to you is given,
Yours to hold forevermore.
Softly lave, O, silver waters!
Gently fall, O, summer raiin!
O’er the spot where rest his ashes
Sing, ye winds, a hushed refrain!
1929
Oh, dear. Abnaki is a boys’ camp on Lake Champlain.
Mon, Aug 20 Wash, mop &ct & some other things. Iron some & sew (quilt) a little. Sew &ct. Go to Middlebury at 6 P.M. Find Andrew Lamb & family at Addie’s. (The cross-out is Ella’s.)
Grace died on this date in 1970.
THE OLD PLANK ROAD
Vergennes to Bristol!
Bristol to Vergennes!
It may have run both ways,
For at the ends,
With due display
A toll gate barred the way.
It may have been in the forties,
And that was long ago,
The date of its construction,
But no one seems to know.
It may have been four inch planking
With stringers laid in clay,
For then the first growth timber
Grew along the way.
It may have been solid oak,
The longer to endure
The pounding of the hoofbeats,
With sharpened calks made sure
At the white-hot anvil
Where the Smith stood awaiting,
With hammer poised and ready,
While some mooted point debating.
***********************************
Can you see the new plank road?
Hear the rolling of the wheels?
The pounding of the hoofbeats
As mile on mile reveals
Hills and rocks and river,
‘Round the swamp’s soft yielding edge
Thru a stretch of sunlit meadow,
Thru a bit of rocky ledge?
Can you see the horses stiffen
At the top of some steep hiil
With the white frost all aglisten
In the morning sunlight chill?
At the little toll house,
Stooped and gaunt and grey,
“Niram” Peck moved slowly
Dropping pennies in a tray.
But the years moved so swiftly
That “Niram” came no more,
Tho the traffic still was halted
At the little toll house door.
But Time was taking toll
From plank and lives of men . . .
They ceased from road repairing
And then . . .
The worn out planking vanished
To ruts and sticky caly
And pools of stagnant water
Along the lonely way.
***************************
For the skeptical who doubt
And their doubts sometimes express,
That there ever was a plank road . . .
Echo answers “Yes!”
~and there is a road, still, from Vergennes to Bristol, through terrain described in this poem, and it’s called Plank Road.
Tues, Aug 21 Finish ironing mend, &ct. Go to Middlebury 6 P.M. Andrew Lamb & family at Addie’s.
THE PECK HOMESTEAD
Standing lone and isolated
In its small green acre lot,
Never marred by plowshare
Or spaded garden plot.
Never tree or shrub has grown
To shade its sloping roof . . .
Its paneless windows still keep watch,
From men and roads aloof.
Some lingering echoes from the past . . .
Departing tread of lost footfalls
May lie within the hushed precincts
Of its crumbling, broken walls.
Let him pause who dares invade
This abode of Time’s decay,
Lest its tottering timbers shake and fall
Like the “Deacon’s one hoss shay.”
(Not too bad till that last unfortunate line.)
Wed, Aug 22 Addie & I drive out Uncle Carl’s. A hot day. Maud sings to us in the evening.
FROM MANSFIELD
The questing trail leads away
Thru tangle of brake and lichen,
‘Neath the spread of whispering pines,
Thru groves of spruce and balsam
Over forbidding grey boulders
To frowning heights amid the clouds.
From the wind swept pinnacle
Vermont lies, a wilderness
Of billowy hills
Fading into the haze of autumn skies.
All the little green vales,
The winding valleys and shimmering rivers,
The yellowing grain and waving corn fields,
The nestling homes and laden orchard trees,
The little spaces of flower decked lawns,
The broad white highways, leafy lanes
And sleepy little villages
Are hidden away between the hills.
The sunlight crowns them with a halo of glory,
Their lights answer back to the stars of the night.
Thurs, Aug 23 Andrew & family, Addie & I go to Lake Dunmore & have a delightful time. Visit the Cascades & Ethan Allen’s cave. Get home just at dark. A lovely day long to be remembered.
It’s a long way from Vergennes to Lake Dunmore. The cave, my husband tells me, is on the side of Mooselamoo. The Cascades come out of Silver Lake. Must be Ella did some hiking.
This poem is the first in a section of “Castles in Memory” that is entitled “Historic Ferrisburgh.” Usually Ella spells Ferrisburgh without the h on the end.
THE QUAKER YARD
There’s a stony road that leads away
From the old back road to the State highway,
At the forks is a yard where the Quaker dead lie
Who lived and worshipped in an age gone by,
To a meeting-house there on the Sabbath day
From many a farm they came to pray.
Of this peace loving people so soberly dressed
Every soul has passed to its last long rest,
Of the old meeting house there now is no more
Save the big worn slab that lay at the door,
Weeds and brambles and long dead grass
Nod and rustle as the rude winds pass . . .
No date . . . no name is written on
The slabs of grey and moss grown stone.
Few are they who pass that way
On the road that leads to the State highway,
Beneath the trees where wild vines cling
And June’s glad birds come back to sing.
(Now I have to find where this is.)
Fri, Aug 24 Go home at 10:17 A.M. train. All well but Anna Benjamin gone to Burlington but comes home today with his father & full of the fair.
I love this description of Benjamin.
THE OLD BRICK ACADEMY
At the other fork on the hill’s steep crown
The old Academy stands looking down
With unseeing eyes of weather worn boards,
A sentinel guarding the gathered hoards
Of hidden years that have passed since when
Years were young in the lives of men.
In its empty belfry no clanging bell
Rings out the study hours to tell,
The brave and the young, the eager and gay
Are passing on some other way,
They give no heed to the historic hill
Where the brick Academy, lone and still,
Is watching the traffic roll each way
With unseeing eyes that forever say:
“I was built by the men of long ago,
In summer sun and in winter snow
I have proudly held my unbending head,
But my boys and girls are long since dead,
Their life’s short battle is over and done,
Out in the world they have lost or won,
I was once the place of their happy abode . .
I am waiting still at the forks of the road.”
It awaits the chime of the century bell,
But the secrets of Time it does not tell.
Monument of a forgotten past!
Guardian of a loneliness vast!
Sentinel watching on the brow of the hill,
As tho some mission yet to fulfill!
No diary entries until September. I think the “blind author” in this poem is Rowland Robinson.
THE VOICE OF THE BRICK ACADEMY
Pause and listen, Ferriburg!
Look up as you pass by!
Waiting on this lofty perch
I send a muted cry!
My walls will crumble soon,
My aged belfry rot,
Until a heap of ruin, I
By man will be forgot.
The clocks of Time have stilled
Voices I used to hear.
Nor can I waken them again,
The youth of yesteryear.
But for their sakes I call
O, pause as you pass by
And lend a hand to rescue me
Ere I in ruin lie!
Plant some clinging vine
That when the sunset falls
Its beauty will enhance
My antiquated walls.
And not so far away,
From the sun to shelter me,
On this bleak and windblown hill,
Kindly plant a tree!
Envoi:
Have you no use for me,
If I were whole once more,
Surcease of care to find
Within my friendly door?
To Vermont’s blind author, I
A memorial could be.
Of all who pass this way
Will no one rescue me?
I had thought this was the name of the cottage on the Lake where the Fishers spent lots of time in the summer, across from Kingsland Bay. But it may be another cottage that the Warners had. I must find out. I like the idea of being “idly busy.”
MEMORIES OF WINDERMERE
The still grey dusk is closing down
And hiding the roofs of the sleepy town,
The stealthy dust with padded feet
Bringing a host of memories sweet,
Of old camp days! . . .I stand once more
On the time-seamed rocks of a quiet shore.
Or with lazy oar on the shining bay
Happily drift the hours away.
The sun came in at the open door,
A noontide dial on the floor.
My mother’s voice . . . I cannot forget,
In my ears its cadence is ringing yet.
So clean and homey the Cottage grew
Under the touch her deft hands knew.
Idly busy we dreamed and read
With the rough-sawn timbers overhead.
Our fishing trips ended with quickened stroke
When we saw the rise of the cook room smoke,
Its spiral curling through the trees
Was borne aloft on the summer breeze,
Pine and cedar and the blue between,
Visions of dinner and appetites keen,
The noontide hour, the jests we said
With the rough-sawn timbers overhead.
Our bonfires flashed thru the star-lit nights,
An answering gleam to the challenging lights
From Thompson’s Point across the bay
Where their shimmering track on the water lay.
O, silent water, O, memorable shore,
You still are there but the loves you wore
Are vanished away like flotsam cast
On a swift dark river in a mist-hung past!
THE WEBSTER SCHOOL HOUSE
Close to the rutted road it stands,
Part of the rocks of Ferrisburg,
Built when the town was young
And homes of the pioneers
Stood closer together than now.
It must have been fine to see
When the old school house was new
With its desks of virgin pine,
Fragrant clean and white,
Its windows all alight
In the gold of the morning sun!
The platform and the desk
Where the teacher sat in state,
A presence and a power,
With an extra chair at her side,
Where the unlucky boy or girl
Could sit thru the study hour
And calm a restless spirit down
To the lessons for the day.
The day of the hard wood ruler,
Innocent when lying still
But a weapon of solemn import
To express the teacher’s will.
It rapped on the sash for school to convene,
It rapped on the desk for attention,
It called the children into line
From the blue Webster book
To spell and define,
It recalled the mischievous to study again . . .
Tho few there were to complain.
On a bench near the door
The water pail stood
Brought from a neighbor’s well.
“Please may I pass the water?”
A piping voice would say,
And the favored one passed down
The aisles with a brimming cup,
Face wreathed in smiles,
Whle each one drank and never knew
That germs might mingle in the brew
From the old tin drinking cup.
And so the generations passed
And children’s children went to school.
The old house stood, but beating years
Made seams in its walls
Of Ferrisburg stone.
The winds have warped its wooden roof,
The rain drips in and loneliness.
No children pass thru its old scarred door.
No classes line up on its worn out floor.
Grassed over depressions where cellars have been,
A pile of stone or a lilac clump,
Line the rutted road that runs today
Past the old school house
Standing close to the way.
And here it is–this is the frontispiece of the book:
I missed the date on this poem, sadly, and we missed the ceremony two days ago, celebrating the bridge’s 80th birthday.
Hands across the chasm!
No longer need we wait
To unite our varied interests
With our sister State.
Hands across the chasm
While the shining waters flow,
Subdued but not impeded,
On their steady course below!
Champlain was thrilled with rapture
When he saw this water-way,
A gem in the wilderness
At that eventful day.
A gem of flashing loveliness
With its islands all untrod,
A painted scene in wonderland
Fresh from the brush of God.
The Red Man left his imprint here,
A wild and shrouded lore,
Descendant of some nomad race,
As he camped along the shore.
He left no record of the years
Unnumbered as the passed,
The secret of his origin
In deepest mystery cast.
Names for us to conjure with . . .
Ft. Frederic, Crown Point, Ti!
Reminders of the gallant men
Who dared to do and die!
Subduers of the wilderness,
Of hostile foes the dread . . .
Baker, Warner, Allen!
By supremest courage led!
Of the hardships they endured
We can but faintly know . . .
We breathe the air of freedom
And safe our hearthstones glow,
Then let us spare a thought today
Amid our many joys,
A fitting homage pause to pay
To our Green Mountain Boys.
We stand on hallowed ground
Who cross this structure fair,
We marvel at its symmetry,
Its service all may share.
Days and weeks and months . . . !
The discouragements they brought,
Each one with unsolved problems,
Each one with vision fraught!
And these were living men,
Who toiled in wet and cold,
Who bore the burden, paved the way
This structure to unfold.
Inch by inch, foot by foot,
Its firm foundations grew . . .
Of all its finished magnitude
But the patient workmen knew.
They saw in its completeness
This gateway to the State,
The vision may have been to them
The urge to stimulate
The faithful toil they gave each day
While from the waters rose
This bond of union, shore to shore,
In its beauty and repose.
We have left the days of pioneers,
There is wilderness no more,
There are farms along our lovely vales
And farms along the shore.
There are villages among our hills
And cities here and there . . .
Of the things that make for happiness
We have an ample share.
Hands across the chasm!
No longer need we wait
To unite our varied interests
With our sister State.
Hands across the chasm
While the shining waters flow,
Subdued but not impeded,
On their steady course below!
August 26, 1929
(A fairly dreadful poem, but interesting to see the version of history it expresses. Ella was a Warner, after all.)
BURLINGTON
Bonny lakeside city
Founded on terraced hills,
Flushed by evening sunsets,
Caught on the tide that spills
Gold from morning sunrise
Fretting the roofs and domes,
Meshing the lawns and gardens
Of Burlington’s beautiful homes.
Borough of neighborly kindness,
City of worship and prayer
Bonded in friendly fellowship,
Welcoming strangers there.
Mecca of calm for the agéd
Wearied with life’s long quest,
Seeking the peace of retirement,
Coming for leisure and rest.
Graceful halls of learning
Facing the westering sun,
Imparting a courage eternal
To destinies there begun,
Halls of Alma Mater,
Sending to ends of the earth
For a part in the world’s upbuilding,
Men and women of worth.
Gracious refuge of healing
Raising from depths of despair
Victims of pain and suffering
In need of solace and care,
Clinging with desperate courage,
Coming day after day
For renewal of life made priceless
Because it is slipping away.
Port of the queen of waters,
Mirror of changing skies
Darkling with dusk of evening
When the sunset dies,
Laving the sacred shore-line,
Watch and ward to keep
Over the silent invervale
Where our belovéd sleep.
City of happy memories
Now part of the long ago . . .
It may be because of dear ones
We came to love you so,
It may be the lure of beauty
Upon each terraced hill . . .
O, Bonny city of Burlington!
We love you . . . love you still!
(I wonder what she’d think of the city today–especially the growth of UVM and the hospital, and the beautiful waterfront. But no train to Vergennes. . . )
This is the last poem in “Castles in Memory.” There are a couple I did not include, but will later, on the appropriate dates.
OUR GOD
Our God is a reasonable God,
Before the world was He,
He made this beautiful valley of ours
For just such people as we.
He threw up the mountains to circle us round,
The Lake He curbed in space,
He gave us abundance of camping ground
And a river to water this place.
Our God is a reasonable God,
He knows that we will move on . . .
He has painted the skies in fadeless dyes
And traced a promise thereon.
When our tents are rolled, worn fold on fold,
At the end of some twilit day,
He will be at our side when we cross the Divide
And quietly steal away.
(Oh dear.)
This poem is from “Homeland in the North:”
SEPTEMBER
September, the beautiful!
With its singing crickets,
Its dogwood and bittersweet
Trailing over roadway fences,
Its red sumac glowing
Along the rocky ledges,
Its fields of tasseled corn
And clean swept meadows,
Velvet green
In the haze of afternoon.
September, the beautiful!
With its cool nights,
Its deep unfathomed skies
Ablaze with brilliant stars,
The halo of the aurora
As it spans the frozen north,
Holding in its flaming nimbus
The winds in abeyance. . .
And then, heritage from our fathers
Handed down. . .
As the sun crosses the line,
The grandeur and the beauty of the storm!
There is a link in the margin to this whole book, but I’ll put individual poems here, as I did with two of the other books. There is no diary entry for today.
“Idylls from Champlain” was published by LeRoy Phillips in 1918. I’m currently transcribing Ella’s diary from that year, and she mentions writing letters to this publisher. The book is “Lovingly inscribed to my Mother.”
THE VALLEY WAY
There are bards who soar on pinions light
‘Mong satellites and stars,
Their songs with rapture thrill the night
In quivering beauty bars.
They bring before our enchanted gaze
Elysian fields so rare
We dream of Heaven. ‘Twould be no amaze
To wake and find us there.
I may not descend into the deeps
Or soar above the heights;
I may not walk the rugged steeps
Or indulge in aërial flights,
But I can travel the beaten road
Along the Valley Way;
I can chant some humble ode
For the folks of every day.
There may be those with a willing ear,
Who carry a heavy load.
Perhaps some sorrowing soul will hear
Along the Valley road.
While other bards soar far and high,
I will take the Valley Way;
My song may reach the hearts close by
‘Mong the folks of every day.
Mon, Sept 3 Ruth goes to N.Y. on flyer at noon. I cook a chicken for her lunch. Drive down street P.M. Call on Hattie doing finely.
I love to think of Ruth on the train, eating a chicken.
MOTHER DEAR
Afar away
Some forgotten thread
In the dim past,
Do you remember, Mother dear?
The garments that we made?
The winding of the baste
Upon a spool
In the hour after school,
As we sat, you and I,
In that old familiar room
On a winter afternoon
So far away.
The evening fell,
Do you remember, Mother dear?
How those quiet evenings fell,
Enlivened by the readings
While our patchwork grew,
And on the children’s stockings
Our knitting needles flew?
Oft the storm without was raging,
But the fire was burning brightly,
Where we sat those hours together
In that cosy, well loved room
So far away.
The summer came,
And a soft breeze stirred the curtains
At the open window hung.
From the doorway’s ample vista
We could see the waving cornfields
And the clover bloom came floating
From the meadows
Where the scythese were being swung,
In those happy, hazy days
So far away.
Do you remember
We brought the table in,
You and I, Mother dear?
And the empting dinner spread
With its ample dishes filled,
Hungry men to satisfy?
While they ate with eager zest,
From the fair and teeming fields
The summer fragrance floated ink
To that old and cherished room
So far away.
Long and silent
Are the many years between,
And the scythes no more are swinging
In the meadows sweet with bloom.
Come the men no more at noonday
From their washing at the bench,
To the spreading of the table
In that flower laden room,
For no backward tide is rolling
Save the memories sad and sweet,
And those days are gone forever,
As a volume that is finished
And complete.
The Reader sleeps.
On his grave the grass is waving,
Even now your hair is white–
Is it evening, Mother dear?
Do others keep the fires burning,
Where we used to sit together
With the quiet and the peace,
Sheltered from the wind and weather,
In that memory laden room
So far away?
(I can’t indent, for some reason, which drives me crazy. In this poem, there is a pattern of indented lines that’s quite effective. Sorry–I’ve tried all kinds of stuff. You can look it up on the link, if you like.)
Appropriate for this 400th anniversary of the Lake’s “discovery.”
LOVELY CHAMPLAIN
Faint are the traces
O, lovely Champlain,
Of the limits that bound you
In the dim silent past,
On the rocks of your basin
The records were cast
Ere the finger of man
Was created to write.
When your waters were gathering
From forces unseen,
And filling the hollows
The mountains between,
By giant upheavals
Your tides were confined,
Ere the sun of the morning
Arose on your face.
Changing your moods
O, lovely Champlain,
The wide blue above you
Where scudding clouds sweep;
The craft that ail o’er you
While unruffled you sleep;
The water fowl swooping With bright wings outspread;
The age serried cliffs
And the steep verdured hills,
In faithful reflection
Your still deeps have caught,
All spread in a painting
Of imagery rare.
Changeful your moods,
O, lovely Champlain,
One touch of the wind
You are moving again,
Your waters aripple
All studded with light,
Like fine sheeted silver
Agleam in the sun.
Your murmuring plaint
Callingn soft to the shore
In lullabys luring
To dreams and to sleep,
All down the long valley
Where your bright waters sweep.
Grand is your wrath,
O, wondrous Champlain,
When the fierce winds sweep o’er you
From the mountains’ steep crown,
Your loud angry waters
In foam crested swells,
Come breaking to shoreward
Where the lines of white driftwood
And the smooth pebbles lie,
Or where rocky confines
Rise defiant and grim,
And the wild eagle guards
Her brood from the storm.
But useless your fury,
O, angry Champlain,
You cannot be free
Though the boom of your anger
Resound like the sea.
Staunch cedars and pines
Stand fast on the beach,
Their voices in harmony
And sympathy blend,
Unheard is their calling
While the storm winds sweep on–
The play of the lightning
And the thunder’s deep roll,
Seem but the echo
Of your own surging soul.
(I really like this, though her geology of this glacial lake is strange. The rhythm is the rhythm of waves.)
VERGENNES
There’s a beautiful valley along Champlain,
A sunlit vale of dreams,
Where Nature trails her garments fair
To the lilt of purling streams.
Adown the valley a river deep
Threading its swift and winding way,
Leaps over the boulders wild and steep,
In a tumult of foaming spray.
And ever the mists above it rise,
As in pristine days of old,
And the western sunlight filtering through
Turns it to cloth of gold.
The lure of its call drew Nature’s child,
The swift footed Red Man, here;
As through the tangle of forest wild
He chased the fleeing deer.
The White Man heard its murmuring call,
And his axe resounding ran,
The forest blossomed about the Fall
And the forge of the smithy sang.
A city he built on the hillsides there
And the hollows that lie between;
A spot endowed by Nature rare
Along the river’s bright sheen.
The city still stands about the Fall,
Its founders have passed away,
And many have heard the luring call
Since that dim and distant day.
There are grander cities beneath the skies,
But none that are half so dear,
Where shrouding mists o’er the waters rise
And beckoning wraiths appear.
ON MANSFIELD
To the North from the din of the City,
The Monarch of Mansfield lies,
The scars of the centuries seam his face,
Raised high in the gleaming skies;
Huge masses of rock rise defiant;
Their outlines forbidding and wild,
And the winds sweep free and unbroken
Over Solitude’s favorite child.
The lovers of Nature have found him,
The flaws in his armor they know,
The rare mosses fed by cool waters,
On their way to the valley below;
The nooks in the sweet swaying balsams,
The caves in his dark stony side,
The lake that he hid in his bosom,
The paths that to man he denied.
The lovers of Nature have found him,
From out of the east and the west,
Over boulders and brake and tangle
They come from valley to crest,
They watch the red sunset at even,
The glory of sunrise they know,
The glimpses of cloudland and Heaven,
And the silent world below.
IN ALLEN’S BAY
O limpid sparkling water,
All shimmering in the Bay!
Still rippling on that stony beach
As it did that distant day,
When here we raised our tent
Ere fell the eventide,
And the little woodland dwellers
To hidden nests had hied.
The fragrant pine and cedar
With boughs all interlaced,
For us a sheltering canopy
By lavish Nature placed.
‘Twas here our rude board table
In jest and laughter laid,
Was circled by dear old faces–
May their memory never fade.
Right here’s the very crevice
Where we piled the rocks up hhigher,
And hung our steaming kettle
Above a crackling fire.
Our bonfires cleft the darkness
When summer nights were warm,
And here our boats lay rocking
In sunshine and in storm.
The faces gay and smiling,
Who’ll smile at us no more–
We seem to see them once again
Along this dear old shore;
Some are gone away forever,
In quiet graves they lie,
And some in countries far
For home in vain may sigh.
Reverently we are standing
With sweet memories all around,
And softly they remind us
That this is hallowed ground.
The twilight shades are falling–
The close of a radiant day;
But voices still are calling
To us in Allen’s Bay.
OUR LAST RIDE
It was a country road that wound away
In long white stretches that summer day,
Nature lay locked in a clam so dead,
Not the stir of a leaf in the trees overhead.
With hanging head in the sultry heat
The horse went on with reluctant feet,
The wheels rolled slowly in deep white sand,
And an old man drove with trembling hand.
His hair was bleached with the passing years,
And his gaze intent, as one who hears
Some far off call with tightening dread
While life, yet dear, holds by a thread.
And so we journeyed that sultry day,
But few we met on the lonely way,
The bridges were swept by recent rain,
And we drove out on the grassy plain,
Over the pebbles of the shallow bed
Where the crystal river noisily sped,
Then we came to a village street–
Fit place for a hermit to retreat,
With silent houses on either side,
And vacant windows open wide,
Doors on broken hinges slack;
Storm-swept clapboards beaten black;
Grass grown yards and empty space,
Threw a strangeness o’er the place.
One house theer was, it looked almost new,
Where people lived and lower grew.
A leaning bridge; a ruined mill,
Its cumbrous wheel forever still;
Swallows circling about their nests
Cobwebs clinging to their breasts,
Bold and fearless within its shade
Bats and owls their homes had made.
A chattering squirrel perched aloft;
A brown wren calling in accents soft;
These and others within its shade
Happy and fearless their homes had made.
Where are they who once dwelt here?
And do their ghosts of nights appear?
Do leaning porch and mildewed walls
Resound to strange sepulchral calls?
And phantom feet o’er sunken floors
Pass in and out the creaking doors?
Just vacant houses and ruined mill,
And silence of nature, O how still!
Then we turned in the grassy street,
And homeward jogged in the sultry heat,
Over long, lone stretches of deep white sand,
And an old man drove with trembling hand.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun, Sept 9 Attend church, except Benjamin.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon, Sept 10 Take the wash to Mrs. Ladou. Take out the furniture & paint my floor. Grace commences her school in the Robinson district.
I’m fairly certain that Grace’s school is the one on the corner of Robinson Road and Rt. 7 in Ferrisburgh. It was called the Robinson School. It’s now a house.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Tues, Sept 11 Benjamin goes to the Doctor & comes home sick.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Wed, Sept 12 Send Ruth a small token for her birthday. (Ruth’s birthday is the 18th.)
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs, Sept 13 Henry goes to the Lake. Very tired to-night between that & Benjamin I do not attend the Prayer meeting.
Fri, Sept 14 Henry comes just at night. Send Ruth her trunk. Hud goes with Jim after Grace. Benjamin quite badly off.
“Hud” is Gertrude, who didn’t like her name. Jim is the horse.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat, Sept 15 Make pumpkin pies. Hud works hard at the housework & I mend. Vittum & (Young) girls up P.M. Grace & I go down street. Call on Hattie. Package from Ruth, C.O.D.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sun Sept 16 All attend church except B & A. Doctor Gibson calls while I am away to see Benjamin. Write Ruth & Helen.
This is the last entry in this diary until October 15, and she doesn’t mention Benjamin again, so I was worried about him. (He was okay.)
THE CHURCH IN THE VALLEY
There’s a moss grown church in the valley,
And ivy climbs over the wall;
The tall grass grows over the threshold
Where the silent night dews fall.
The old bell lies there in the turret,
And its musical chiming is still,
Once it awoke the glad echoes
Through valley and towering hill.
Where is the rosy cheeked maiden
And where is the wrinkled dame,
Who every Sabbath morning
From over the meadows came?
And where is the grey haired sexton
Who stood on the belfry stair,
And rang the old bell in the turret
While the worshippers gathered there?
Go out in the silent church yard,
For there they are all laid low,
And there is the white-haired preacher
Of fifty years ago.
And there is the good old deacon,
Who sat by the chancel rail
And prayed the Lord to gather the grain
And burn up the wayward kale.
There are grand churches in the City;
The City that rose in a day,
And the old stone church in the valley
Is now but a ruin grey,
And the simple village people,
As they pass on the other side,
Wll warn you in awe-struck whisper
To give it a margin wide.
As you stand in the gathering shadows
And list to each sound that you hear,
There’s something indefinite stealing,
And fancy is morbid with fear;
The wind rustles vague through the ivy
And over the tombstones bare,
And the spirit of buried ages
Seems keeping you company there.
You look for the white-haired preacher
With text book in his hand,
And the rush of a night bird past you
Seems a guest from another land.
The rats in the belfry daze you,
And you go with quickened tread
And leave the old church in the valley
Alone with its slumbering dead.
(While Ella W. Fisher is certainly not a Great Poet, she has a gift for description–and for invoking feelings of the uncanny. I like this poem. I did not include her poem “Farragut at Mobile Bay,” which precedes this one in “Idylls of Champlain.” You can look it up, if you like.)
RELICS
There’s a nameless charm about them
The things of bygone days,
They are quaint and strangely fashioned,
Nor fit our modern ways.
We touch them with reverent fingers,
And our fond thought o’er them lingers,
And the ones who loved them so
Long ago.
There’s a mystic charm about them,
The relics of days of yore,
But we shall do without them,
As those who have gone before.
When we are gone will some one care,
Or a thought on these old relics spare,
And wonder why we loved them so
Long ago?
IN THE BORDERLAND
I have been in the house
Of my childhood today,
Exploring the rooms
Where I used to play,
The sunrise glinted pellucid gold
Through its eastern windows
And its doorway old,
Under the slant of its lowly eaves,
Where nest of the homing swallow leaves,
I passed again, as once I passed
When the posts were straight
And the sills were fast,
Into the silent kitchen door.
And again I saw
The great dim fireplace,
The old oak floor,
The roomy pantry, dismantled and bare,
Once big and exhaustless,
With dainties to spare;
The little bedroom that used to be mine
Sunken and mildewed
And silent as time–
Once draped with red peonies
And asparagus plumes,
Its broken paned window
The sunshine illumes.
On into the parlor, my Grandmother’s room,
Where shades of green made a semi-gloom.
And I saw again
Its wide open fireplace
And andirons bright,
Where the fire leaped high
On a wintry night;
The flawless spare bedroom
With its fourposter staid,
Where Grandmother’s star quilt
All spotless was laid.
I looked up the stairway,
Began its ascent,
It tottered and creaked
As upward I went,
To the dear old chamber
With its dormer window
Looking out on the East–
With a chair I oft climbed
To a seat on the sill;
Its outlook and quiet
My need seemed to fill.
Unmolested the birds
Had builded their nests,
The riot of sunrise
Lay bright on their breasts;
They fluttered and flew
In frightened dismay,
While I carefully threaded
My onward way
To the wide front chamber,
My Grandmother’s pride,
Where her guests of honor
Oft came to abide.
I tiptoed across its clattering floor,
Its walls and its windows were
A chaos of ruin and nothing more.
In those far-a-way days
When my small feet strayed
Across its threshold, like one arrayed
In some act forbidden,
I backed to the door
Close watching for goblins
I felt must be there.
Precipitate fled, the chills
Down my spine,
The wind in my hair.
In the big front yard
There now is no trace,
Of the flowers whose fragrance
Once filled the place.
The sweet old-fashioned things I loved,
Each side of the walk
That led to the door
Are gone.
But the old stone step
Worn smooth by the feet
That will tread it no more,
Lies just as it lay
In my childhood days
So far away.
The lilacs are gone.
And the climbing rose
That festooned the window there,
The sunsets fall with the bright blaze
Of glory rare.
The purple deeps of the twilight lie
As they used to lie on summer nights,
When living forms passed to and fro
In the homey blaze of cheery lights.
Those days are gone.
And the forms are gone
Once our love and care;
The spirit of things
That once have been,
Are vanished like empty air.
We shall find our loves
In the Borderland.
It is not so far away;
Its homes yield not
To stain or spot
Of ruin or decay.
(I really like this–there’s an oddness about it–the rhyme and rhythm interrupted, there are peculiar italicized lines (that the formatting simply won’t let me do correctly)–I wish I could show you the indentations, too.)
A PICTURE
The water laps softly on the beach,
And from my feet a shimmering track
Sparkles and scintillates
Across the Bay in the moonlight.
Back in the dim woods
Are shadowy aisles
Where the crickets are singing,
And now and then a glow worm
Glistens in the path.
There are no lights in the Cottage;
The broad Lake lies silent
Beneath the stars;
The pines nod softly to each other,
For God has descended from His Heaven.
(I wonder if this was composed on one of the nights that Ella returned to camp in the late evening, alone.)
THE LEGEND OF THE CORN
In the golden days of Harvest
When skies are blue and fair,
Beyond the purpling hill tops,
When a chill’s in the bracing air,
Among the nodding cornfields
Russet and red and gold,
Autumn, in robes of beauty,
Lingers before the cold.
‘Tis said in the old time legend
When the Harvest moon is bright,
Out of the Happy Hunting Grounds
Into the whispering night,
Come the allied Indian forces
In feathered dress of yore,
A spectral, weird procession
To lead the dance once more.
They move in solemn rhythm
And sway with every breeze,
Their lithesome, sinuous motions
The grace of savage ease;
They shake their rustling fringes,
And nod their feathered plumes,
And all their gaudy trappings
The moonlight soft illumes.
And so when the corn is standing
In shocks on the moonlit ground,
And the night wind roams among them
With a mournful, moaning sound,
They come in strange procession
With feathered dress of yore,
And chant some old time melody
As they lead the dance once more.
THE HOUSE ON THE HILL
A House with wings on either side,
Crowning the hill where tall elms sway,
Whose many whispering voices
In soft cadences die away.
Its call goes forth from an open door
As many a call has gone before;
The maimed, the lame, the ill and blind,
Like weary pilgrims come to find
A surcease from their haunting pain–
The boon of life and health again.
Of such was I. Through its open door
I passed, as many had done before,
Weary and ill in body and soul,
A suppliant praying to be made whole.
At shut of even in the semi gloom,
An Angel passed from room to room;
Her touch brought hope to the heart of the weak,
And the blush of health to many a cheek.
Now and then by some stricken bed
An instant she paused and pitying said,
“You can bear no more. Come home with me,
From this broken body I’ll set you free.”
The two passed out like a fleeting breath
And this is the Passing that men call Death;
The unseen Nurse who comes each night,
And no man sees when she takes her flight.
Through endless days and nights of pain,
When shadows clouded my weary brain,
She subdued my heart’s wild throbbing strife
And quelled the turbulent channels of life.
I saw her not. She spoke no word,
I only knew that pulses stirred,
And life and health infused again
The broken structure where despair had lain.
The Angel that men call Death is Life;
To some she brings peace from endless strife;
She comes by day and oft by night,
But no man sees when she takes her flight.
She may return at no distant day,
But my work will not unfinished lay,
Since she gave to me to feel once more
The sweet pure air of the open door.
A House with wings on either side,
Crowning the hill where tall elms sway,
Whose many whispering voices
In soft cadences die away.
(She may be describing the old Mary Fletcher Hospital, on a hill (where when I was a kid, people went sledding). In a later diary, Ella notes that it was the anniversary of her being in the hospital. But this is a perfectly dreadful poem.)
LONGING
I stood on the city’s pavement,
And looked with dizzy eyes
On the piles of cement and marble
Towering to meet the skies.
I heard the din and clatter;
The clamor and rush and rattle,
Like the tread of a mighty army
And the swelling surge of battle.
And I longed for the quiet country,
The smell of the new mown hay,
The lanes where once we traveled,
That led o’er the hills away.
The farm house back in the meadow,
And the waving fields of grain,
The golden fruit of the orchard
And to feel like a child again.
The Earth
Is a great teacher.
The best results
Are obtained by cultivation;
From the products of her surface
Man builds his home;
She yields sustenance
For his support,
And warmth for his comfort.
In her cool embrace
Man lays away his dead,
And she reduces His bones to dust.
She drinks up the blood of battles,
And sends therefrom
The sweet aroma of wild flowers.
The Earth
Is a great teacher,
And man may take
A lesson therefrom;
The best results
To the mind of man,
Are obtained by cultivation.
He must be trained
In the way of good;
He must be taught the inspiration
Of Purity and Truth,
Lest into his soul creep lust and murder,
And man become a leper.
Let him take a lesson from the Earth–
Both are the creation of God,
And PUrity and Truth
Are His attributes.
(This may be her very worst poem. Should we learn from the Earth to drink the blood of battles? Geez.)
ON THE PLAIN
Whispering winds
Among the pines,
Sighing sad and low,
Gathering haste
O’er snowy waste,
Wailing as they go.
Faring forth
From the north,
Bitter, biting cold,
Fiercely heat
The stinging sleet
E’er the day is old.
O’er the plain
A man drew rein
In the raging storm,
Flickering life
In feeble strife
Essaying to be warm.
A shuddering sound
In fierce rebound;
A long and curdling wail,
Upon the track
A coward pack
Coming through the gale.
Morning fair,
Sky so clear,
Sunlight seeks in vain
The hurtling fate;
The thirst insatiate
Of the empty, silent plain.
Long the Southern sunshine glinted
The roofs of St. Pierre,
Mont Pelee’s sheltering slopes were tinted
With tropic flowers rare.
Ships came and went, a gala lot,
And men passed to and fro,
And life was bright in this island spot
As anywhere one may go.
But one fatal morn Mont Pelee broke
The vials of his wrath,
To death the sleeping town awoke
In grim destruction’s path.
The monster vampier swooping down
Poured out his molten fire,
And of the helpless unwarned town
Made a blackened funeral pyre.
A flood of awful burning death
Rolled out upon the sea;
Ships were engulfed with every breath
From shaking Mont Pelee.
The decks with shriveled men were massed,
The cordage to ashes fell,
And over all a darkness cast,
Like the very depths of Hell.
Storms may beat and gales may blow,
‘Til gales shall cease to be;
Ships may come and ships may go
O’er the island studded sea–
The sunlight woos that quiet grave
And vainly thrills the air–
Nor ocean beating wave on wave,
Can waken St. Pierre.
THE MOONLIGHT
There are some things
We cannot speak,
When the moonlight lies white
On the frozen ground,
And long shadows
Have their fling,
We may turn low the light
In a warm homey room,
And sit at the window
And think,
And drink
And absorb, but –
There are some things we cannot speak.
WHERE
Where is God?
Is He hid away
In the dim old aisles
Where shadows lay?
What answer gives
The whispering breeze
That plays among
The vibrant trees?
The trilling notes
Of happy birds?
The lowing of
Contented herds?
The dreamy rhythm
Of yon purling stream?
The Lake’s fair bosom,
Its waves agleam?
Vale and valley
And rolling hills?
Woodland slopes
And shaded rills?
Grey piles of rock
Where mosses grow?
Grand mountain peaks
White capped with snow?
The heavenly blue
Of yonder sky?
The fleecy clouds
Enmassed on high?
The answer trace
In sacred scroll,
A responsive echo
In the soul.
(A fairly modern sentiment, I think.)
THE OTTER
When Nature wakes to beauty,
Space thrills with droning bees,
And gentle summer breezes
Play among the trees,
Fishing boats and pleasure launches,
Sailing craft and steamers grand
Gem the bosom of the Otter
Like a scene from fairy land.
Would you quaff the thrilling nectar
From the deeps of Nature’s cup?
Take a trip adown the Otter
Ere the busy world is up;
Ere the sun along the valley
Dries the dewy fields of night,
Watch the wild and timid creatures
Coming forth into the light.
Chattering flocks of hungry blackbirds
Settle ‘mong the nodding corn,
The eagle soars on lofty pinions
Fearless in the early morn;
Birds unknown and birds familiar,
Blend their notes along the stream–
Glides your boat in raptured silence,
Like the music of a dream.
Looking back on many ages
Otter’s waters flow serene,
None of us may know the stages
Or the varied change of scene.
We but guess how long the Red man
Fished upon this quiet water,
When the dense primeval forest
Darkened all the shining Otter.
When the white man’s flint lock musket
Sent its first resounding call,
Pioneer axes swung in rhythm
To rear a village at the fall,
Rocks of ages, smooth and polished,
Standing silent, grim and tall,
Breaks the Otter reckless o’er them,
Foaming, thundering at the Fall.
Men of iron will and courage
Wrought far past the eventide,
Ere McDonough’s fleet went sailing
Down the Otter’s shining tide;
Cut their way around the British
In the darkness of the night,
Where they blocked the river’s entrance,
And routed them in flight.
From Widow Story’s historic cave
To Fort Cassin’s storied shore,
The Otter has been the water way
For men and deeds of yore.
What scenes await the future years
Adown Time’s coming ages
We know not, neither can we guess
The varied, changing stages.
Men come and go–are laid to rest,
Not so our storied river,
Unswerving on its steady course
It flows and flows forever,
Fond memory weaves a golden thread
Along this shimmering water,
Endearing all its winding way–
Our peaceful shining Otter.
(This is about the Otter Creek, which flows through Vergennes, where Ella Fisher lived.)
IN THE TWILIGHT
The sun hangs low in the beautiful west,
And over the earth in her green robes dressed,
Is falling the holy hush of rest
Like a prayer on the wings of the soul.
The bleating of sheep and the lowing of kine
From the pasture slopes and the woods of pine,
Are stilled by the farmer’s thatch and vine
Where the flocks lie down to rest.
The deep toned bell from the quaint old tower,
Over the village roofs in swelling power
Is tolling forth the matin hour,
With an answering thrill in each man’s breast.
The dark woods lie on every side;
The grand hills rear their heads in pride,
In the holy hush of eventide,
They worship in temples of air.
On the hill, in the valley, the village lies;
Its peaceful spires through the foliage rise
In the ruddy glow of the sunset skies–
A pastoral picture fair.
My soul bows down in the hush of the hour,
In reverence accepting His deep, subduing
power,
And each trembling leaf and folded flower
Are bowed in worship too.
(Matins isn’t at twilight. . .)
OCTOBER
Month of russet and red and gold,
Shining days just edged with cold;
Purple sunsets and sweet still night;
Skies that are blue and stars that are bright;
Hazy sunlight and golden sheaf;
Mellow apples and falling leaf;
Busy farmers and lowing kine
Out in the rowen meadows fine;
Flocks of fowl in the southward flight;
Furry marauders at work all night.
Whispering winds that wail and sigh
That all things bright are born to die;
Fragrance of dying departing things;
Rustling of red leaves where ivy clings;
The woodman’s axe through the forest ringing;
The glad housewife at her first fire singing;
O fair October! in robes divine,
To link the seasons must ever be thine.
THE HOMELIGHT
Set the light burning,
Keep the house warm
For the sake of the dear one
Out in the storm.
The world is a battle field,
They who earn bread
Must wrest it by toil
With hands or with head.
Set it burning, my dear,
Let its radiance shine,
Make the home homelike,
The task is divine.
The smile of good cheer,
The soft word of praise,
The neatly clad housewife,
The small thrifty ways,
Make the home beautiful
And keep the hearth warm,
For some one who’s toiling
Out in the storm.
Set the light burning,
Thy task is divine,
Over thine own life
Its halo will shine.
(I wonder if she wrote this for a daughter. I think it expresses what her diaries do about the importance of her housework–which was quite a bit different than housework these days, and a critical part of a farming family’s economy.)
A PRAYER
O God,
Teach me
To take mine inheritance,
To reach out
And accept
From Thy hand,
All
Thou hast intended
For me.
O God,
Teach me
From this full measure,
To mete out
To others
Who, courage lost,
Are
Blindly groping
For Thee.
IN THE DARK
I lay in the dark
And watched the lights of the town,
Between them and my open window
Great trees swayed gently in the wind,
They made a moving fret-work
Of leaves
On the wall,
And the white hangings
Of my bed.
My eyes flew wide open
At the strangeness
Of the thing.
As they advanced
And receded,
I lay and watched them
In the dark.
DISAPPOINTMENT
We made a pact,
You and I,
The sun shone
And it transfigured out path.
We came to the forks of the road,
You said this way,
I said that,
And tho we came this way,
I still think it is wrong,
For it leads thru a land
Where there is no sunshine.
I love the sunshine–
And the cup you gave me to drink–
What was in it?
The lees are bitter, bitter,
And there is a taste of ashes
In my mouth.
(The most abstract poem I’ve seen so far. I wish I knew—)
ON THE CLIFFS
We sat on the cliffs at sunset
And gazed o’er the lake so fair,
With never a breeze disturbing
The silent evening air.
The sky was clothed in splendor,
In hues of pink and blue,
And the water blushed in answer,
A beautiful roseate hue.
Dark cedars stood like sentinels
Along the rock bound shore,
And down in the clear still water
We saw them reflected o’er.
The hills rose far in the distance
And fair green isles we saw,
An enchanted panorama–
A picture without a flaw.
Then slowly the bright hues faded,
The light went out of the west,
The night and its sad sweet voices
Folded the place in rest.
LOVE
She thrills the soft breeze of the morning,
That stirs like a whisper, the trees,
And the gold that embays the bright petals,
When flowerets unfold to the sun.
All the shadowy places are shining
With a wonderlight fair to behold;
The glare of the noontide is softened,
That lies on the meadow’s rare bloom,
And I float as a gossamer bubble
Down the wane of the afternoon.
When evening shuts down like a mantle,
And wraps me in softest repose,
She comes like the down of the thistle
And twines in my hair the red rose.
VERSE
It may be a song, a fragment of prayer;
A quaver of bird carol in the air;
A whisper of leaves in a maple’s shade;
A glint of sunshine across a glad;
The ripple and purl of dappling streams;
The hazy memory of happy dreams;
A dewy rose on a summer morn;
The hush of nature where love is born.
A woodland path that once you knew
Where anemone and violet grew;
The perfume wafted from a flower;
A bit of comfort in sorrow’s hour–
These are the things for a poet planned,
Couched in a language men understand.
HOW THE WEST BEGAN
From the sunrise land of a thousand hills;
From the lure of rivers, lakes and rills;
From the farms along New England’s waters,
Went forth her sturdy sons and daughters,
That’s how the West began.
Across prairies drear and lonely,
Each dragging day a few miles only,
Belongings packed in a wagon van—
That’s how the West began.
New England’s men and women too,
The ones who went to dare and do,
Thru sweat and toil and often tears,
They were the WEster pioneers–
That’s how the West began.
A little shack on the rolling plain,
The stress of toil, the sting of pain,
The pluck and vim of the Easter man–
That’s how the West began.
Ella had family in Detroit. I bet they descended from thesew “sturdy sons and daughters” of New England.
Diary entries will begin again in a couple of weeks!
NOR YET ALONE
I dwell among dear familiar things,
Your gifts and mine;
Souvenirs of happy days;
Keepsakes from those now dead;
Things brought from lands and climes
Where our varied journeyings led.
Now you have gone
And left me here alone.
Yet not alone. Among fond memories
I dwell in sweet content;
The happy voices of children dear,
Their songs and laughter,
Plaints and woes
Again I seem to hear.
Oft I pass from room to room
Where their belongings are;
I touch them lovingly and think
How they are doing things
Out in the world afar;
Their letters come, a welcome break
From books galore, and dreams,
And work so light and varied
It but a pastime seems.
When I too pass out
There will be none to live
Among the things you left.
Returning feet of wandering ones
May echo here once more;
Or maybe loneliness will creep
Into the empty rooms,
And no footprints will disturb
The dust upon the floor.
I love the room
That once was yours,
Its window toward the town;
I bring my work to linger here
In the stillness sweet,
You seem so very near,
Fond memories are mine
With dreams and books galore;
Content and peace
And letters dear,
How could I ask for more?
The house looks to be empty now. One of my winter plans is to discover who owns it, and see if I can get inside in exchange for transcripts of the diary.
WHEN I WOULD GO
When the summer breeze is soft and light
Before the coming of the night;
When the sunset lures me home to rest
With my windows open toward the west.
When the flowers fold their leaves to sleep
And twilight shadows softly creep,
And softly trail from sifting wings
A dimness o’er familiar things;
Through the gathering dusk of coming night
My soul would wing its outward flight,
For me, dear children, do not weep,
But all the loving memories keep
Of days gone by and days unborn;
Fill well the places you adorn.
Ella Warner Fisher died October 11, 1934.
That’s the date ascribed to this poem in “Castles in Memory.” When I was a child, living in St. Albans, we used to drive to Fairfield Pond some times for an early breakfast before my father went to work. We often drove to the top of French Hill to see the sunsets over the Lake.
A DAY AMONG THE HILLS
The woods in flaming colors glow,
October skies are bending low
As we fare forth to enjoy the day
And imbibe the beauty along the way.
Splashes of red and gold and green,
Hill after hill and deep ravine
Where some ancient river flowed . . .
(A lone house stands beside the road. . . )
Then we come to a place we know,
It stood here sixty years ago,
Over it swung the tavern sign,
The Host came out with smiles benign
To welcome the stage as it rattled in
With clattering wheels and hoof-beat din . . .
Silent the place . . . no open door,
The stage and its horses come no more,
No genial Host with smiling face . . .
Some stone is marking his resting place,
We are passing on . . Now please drive slow,
This is a place we used to know,
The old school house in the maple shade!
The books we thumped! The games we played!
The jackknife carving on its desks of pine!
The words we missed as we stood in line!
This is the homestead; we hold it dear,
But they are gone who once lived here,
And strangers are keeping the fires aglow
In the old farmhouse we used to know.
Farther on, just over the hill,
Down in a vale so peacefully still,
Reflecting the flaming slopes beyond
Lies the bright water of Fairfield Pond.
On the stones along the shore
Where his camp fires burn no more,
The Red man left his imprint here,
Left his arrowhead and spear,
Left his dead beneath the sod,
Left for us his belief in God,
Left a silence, solemn, vast,
Into which his spirit passed. . .
Left momentos whence we trace
Something of his vanished race.
*************************************
The twilight lies on its silvery sheen,
Its darkening shores of gold and green,
The many hued hills that rise beyond . . .
Lone. . . silent. . .beautiful Fairfield Pond!
As we pause on the hill’s steep crown
High above St. Albans town,
Misted in shadow down below,
Softly the lights begin to glow.
St. Albans Bay all roseate lies
Reflecting back the evening skies.
The Lake in the gloaming stretches away . .
We are at the end. . .It has been a day
To string like a bed on a treasured chain
And live in memory over again.
Ashton Fisher was born this day in 1872.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Mon., Oct. 15
Rowland Robinson dies today.
This was one of the entries that convinced me that the diary was worth buying.
OUR NAME
You have heard them, tell, O children!
In the misty long ago,
How our fathers struck for Freedom
A strong decisive blow;
How they seized a rusty musket;
In the furrow left the plow;
Hunger bore and grinding hardship
With the death damp on their brow.
‘Tis a thing we should remember
Traced on History’s solemn page,
Why our hero, Ethan Allen,
In that dim and distant age,
Named our fair an ancient city
For a man in sunny France;
For the old Green Mountain heroes
Never did a thing by chance.
Count De Vergennes, our namesake,
Made the history of this land.
For our fathers, struggling handful,
He made firm and loyal stand.
He detained the pressing orders
The King of France detailed;
Refusing to helped the Colonies
‘Til all Louis’ ships had sailed.
The King decreed that Franklin
Should not enter Paris gate,
But the same friend, ever watchful,
Saw the message came too late.
That he stood in staunchest friendship
By our sainted Franklin’s side,
Is an all sufficient reason
For an homage true and wide.
Vergennes gave us Count De Rochambeau,
With his brave twelve thousand strong,
Holding back King George of England,
Help[ing right a grievous wrong.
Through him America received
Its beloved Lafayette,
Whose effective aid to Washington
We never shall forget.
And this is why, O children!
That this favored spot of earth,
With its cloud capped mountain setting
And its shining river girth,
Caught the soul of Ethan Allen
With a name he cherished dear;
On your memory deep inscribe it;
Count De Vergennes, or Charles Gravier.
(Good old Green Mountain Boys–the original bandit land developers. Funny how we didn’t really learn about them when we studied Vermont history.)
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Thurs, Oct 18 Rowland Robinson buried to-day. Mother comes on the noon train.
This is from Henry P. Fisher’s diary of 1870:
Wed., Oct 19 Was married to-day. Went to Burlington. Stayed to American Hotel all night. Arrived at B at 1/2 past 8 evening. H
Ella was 17 years old, and Henry was 22. More of Henry’s diary later. This post, and all the ones from Henry’s diary, come with the permission of the Research Center at the Henry Sheldon Museum.
WHY WE LOVE VERGENNES
A rebel Patriot paused one day
Beside yon cataract’s foaming spray,
A few small houses stood beside
The river’s swift and turbid tide;
A few small houses and that was all,
Clustered for safety about the Fall.
What was it he saw that his pulses fired?
What was it he felt that his soul inspired?
In the wilderness lay this sunlit glade,
A hallowed spot by Nature made;
A little spot where the trees were felled,
But Ethan Allen in vision beheld
A busy city beside the Fall,
And obeying at once the insistent call,
He secured a charter to hold forever
This charming spot beside the river.
That’s why we love Vergennes.
Mrs. Fisher does not point out that the Green Mountain Boys burned the homes of the Yorkers who had the original title to the “little spot beside the Fall.”
This long poem was read at Old Home Week celebration in July, 1916.
May it bring to us a thought of cheer,
It was not because of the numbers here;
The heritage that is handed down
To us, who live in this quaint old town,
Is mightier far than the millions made
In the sweating toil of the shops of trade.
The beaten way our fathers trod
Lay close to Nature and Nature’s God;
The quiet homes and the simple life;
The absence of turmoil, crime and strife;
The ready sympathy and right good will;
Each man and woman with a place to fill,
That’s why we love Vergennes.
The song birds flit among our trees,
Their glad notes mingle with the breeze;
A littler earlier they come
To make with us their summer home.
The wild flowers bloom not far away
Where meadows spread their green array;
The woods and hills enclose us round;
The mountain peaks our vision bound,
And gorgeous sunsets down the west
Herald the night’s approaching rest,
When peace and quiet settle down
Like a benediction o’er the town.
That’s why we love Vergennes.
The Sabbath is a little holier here,
Its bells ring out in cadence clear,
The pave is worn with passing feet
As they call and call with a meaning sweet.
The song of praise; the hush of prayer;
The belief in a Heavenly Father’s care,
Form a tie of brotherhood true and tried.
And all men worship side by side.
Each man’s better self awakes
When the Sabbath stillness o’er us breaks.
That’s why we love Vergennes.
Among the friends we cherish dear,
Some go out each passing year;
On the hillside green they sweetly rest,
The peace of God on each still breast.
A mound of earth; a gift of flowers;
Each hallowed dead, they still are ours;
Inert and silent, tho they lie,
They bind us with another tie.
That’s why we love Vergennes.
The dearest spot in all the earth
Is the goodly land that gave us birth.
The charm of home has a strong appeal;
It binds the heart with bands of steel,
And if we go out to criticise
Some loiterer waits to put us wise;
We easily find the things we seek;
Some spot in our brother’s armor weak.
This was not in the vision the Patriot saw,
Buy a city of homes without a flaw;
The ready sympathy and right good will;
Each man and woman with a place to fill,
And, friends, “it is up to you and me”
To make this place what it ought to be.
That’s why we love Vergennes.
Read at Old Home Week celebration July second, nineteen hundred sixteen.
To
A SONG
There’s a song in the air,
I can hear the sweet notes,
It’s ringing in joy
From hundreds of throats;
It invades the deep quiet
Shut up in my breast,
And now I am longing
To sing with the rest.
This is the poem on the last page of “Idylls of Champlain.”
FARRAGUT AT MOBILE BAY
The enemy’s forts a stern front wore
Like sentinel guards on either shore;
Where the turbid waters to seaward sweep,
Destructive missiles lay buried deep.
Defiance blazed from each bristling gun
Of the hostile fleet in the morning sun;
His battering rams awaited the fight,
Sheeted in armor and hidden from sight,
And with bated breath in silence lay
Upon the waters of Mobile Bay.
Admiral Farragut our bright flag bore
On the fifth of AUgust in sixty-four,
From every staff of his ships of war
As they sailed across the harbor bar;
More thrilling sight not often is seen
As they waved and fluttered in starry sheen,
Each burnished deck was cleared for fight
And spotless shone in the morning light,
From gulf to channel in battle array
On the far false bosom of Mobile Bay.
(“fair false bosom?”)
The brooding silence in echoes awoke,
Over Fort Morgan rolled the angry smoke;
Beneath the waters in a deadly mine
Lay the enemy’s hidden torpedo line.
Commander Craven the fray began
With the doomed Tecumseh leading the van;
She quivered and poised an instant and then
With her crew of over a hundred me,
In a watery vortex was downward borne,
While loved ones still in the Northland mourn.
(I want to find out why Ella Fisher was interested in this Civil War event–Henry was a soldier in the Civil War, but I know nothing of his service, except for a letter he received near the war’s end. More on that later.)
Then into the midst of the deadly shilling
Came Admiral Farragut his orders telling,
Far up the rigging, and then lest he
Become the prey of the hungry sea,
Was lashed to the shrouds on the Hartford’s deck
And sailed above the Tecumseh’s wreck;
Above the perilous torpedo mine,
Where each missile raked his ships in line,
Then each in turn dropped harmless away
In the troubled waters of Mobile Bay.
As to right and left his brave ships fought,
Out of confusion good order he wrought;
To right and left rose the battle smoke
And far inland the booming broke;
Earth with bolted thunder was riven
When an angel left her place in Heaven;
No mortal saw the wings she spread
Over the daring Admiral’s head,
But unscathed he came through the dreadful fray
On the wreck strewn waters of Mobile Bay.
Each fort was silenced; each bristling gun
That burnished shone in the morning sun,
Smirched and blackened at eve hung stilled,
And moans of the wounded the night air filled;
Dead men lay where the living had been,
And a brooding hush fell soft on the din.
Peace is bought at the price of war,
And it settled over the harbor bar,
When Farragut, Heaven protected that day,
Won the battle of Mobile Bay.
This book of poems was published in 1927 by the Tuttle Company of Rutland. I don’t know if the “Tuttle” in the diaries was part of this family. The edition I have is inscribed by Ella Fisher: “Friendliness is the key to my neighbor’s heart,” and is signed by her on the title page.
The book is dedicated “In Loving Comradship to My Children,” and there is a verse on the page facing the first poem:
Men may talk of the broad highway
With its traffic and its thrills,
But give me the narrow country road
That winds between the hills.
I’ll be posting all the poems from this book in the days to come.
STILL PEAKS
You have gathered the first winter snow
And mantled your tops in the cloud,
Stately and lone, while wild winds blow
With clamoring voices loud.
Last summer we circled you round,
The roadway ran threading between,
With foliage then you were crowned
Blended in soft tints of green.
O, marvel of beauty and strength!
O, wonder of deep dark ravine!
With caves in your rugged length
Hiding secrets no mortal has seen!
You lift your still peaks to the skies
Across the white valley so near,
All golden you dazzle my eyes
When sunrise is roseate, clear.
Serried and beaten and seamed,
Shaded each deep dark ravine . . .
Perhaps of the summer I dreamed
And the roadway that ran between.
Fri., Nov 2 Go up to Ashton’s. Stay to supper. They are packing everything.
I was recently loaned a scrapbook made by Ella Fisher–newspaper clippings and obituaries pasted into a “Microscopes and Accessories” book.
This is a transcription of one of the articles Ella cut out.
TWELVE DEAD IN BRISTOL’S WOOD ALCOHOL CASE
Seven More Men Die from Drinking Whiskey and Other Deaths Are Expected–More Than 40 Persons Partook of the Liquor.
THE 12 BRISTOL POISON VICTIMS.
Fred O’Bryan, 55, Bristol
Samuel King, 60, Bristol
Wallace Hanmer, Bristol.
Edward Wakefield, South Lincoln.
Aldice Jackman, Warren
YESTERDAY’S DEATHS.
Ernest Duprey, New Haven.
Phila Tatro, Bristol.
Henry St. George, 55, Bristol.
Cyrus Curry, 40, Bristol.
Patrick Welch, 31, Bristol.
Lester L. James, 60, Bristol
Francis McBride, 40, Bristol
(Special to the Free Press.)
Bristol, Nov. 2–The death list from drinking, it is said, wood alcohol procured from D. A. Bisbee’s drug store was increased to 12. Sunday night two more victims, Aldice Jackman of South Lincoln and Wallace Hanmer of this village, died and about 9:30 this morning Ernest Duprey of New Haven, who was working in this village, also died, making the sixth victim.
Phila Tatro, Henry St. George, Cyrus Curry, Patrick Welch, Lester L. James and Francis McBride died this afternoon, swelling the list of dead to twelve. More deaths are expected. Charles Hines, Lewis Booska and George
Booska are in a critical condition. More than forty persons drank liquor from Bisbee’s store. Late this afternoon Bisbee was taken to the county jail at Middlebury. Feeling here is very butter (sic) against Bisbee.
Charles Hines of Bristol, George Elliott and James Tomblin of Starksboro and John Agan of Monkton are also ill from drinking some of the same liquor.
The opinion prevails that Bisbee was under the influence of drugs or liquor Saturday and that he got hold of the can containing wood alcohol and sold that instead of grain alcohol. From the odor of the stuff some think it was wood alcohol and ether mixed. Others think that Bisbee made the stuff, using wood alcohol as a base, because it was cheaper.
Of those who have died King leaves a widow; O’Bryan, a widow and four children, all grown up; Jackman, a widow; Hanmer, a widow and one son; Duprey was unmarried; Wakefield, relatives, if any, unknown; Welch, unmarried, leaves mother; james, wife and daughter; Curry, unmarried, leaves mother.
John Carl and Frank Turner were reported more comfortable this morning.
Bisbee has been in business in this village for many years.
For many months past it has been common talk that much liquor was being sold in this village and it has been alleged that the stuff was of a decidedly poor quality. With the approach of election the supply of liquor has apparently increased and it has been generally understood that a considerable quantity of the beverage was of the kind known as “squirrel whiskey.”
No year was given for this clipping–but I found an article in the Nov. 3, 1914 Evening Ledger (Philadelphia) saying that 14 men had died, and that Bisbee, a druggist, was under arrest.
Tues., Dec 4 Sort meat. Cut up lard & grind sausages.
NOT THERE
some day the grave for me will yawn,
I will not know . . . I will not care . . .
My happy soul will be withdrawn . .
I’ve a Mansion Over There!
And I, in Paradise will be
When they dig a grave to bury me!
(I think this would make a great gospel song chorus.)
Sat, Nov 3 Work hard all day. Mother too sick to sit up. Ashton Hattie, Lu, the dog & the Baby come to supper. Call Doctor Willard for Mother.
MY HIDDEN HILLS
April’s fields are snowy . . . snowy white,
Still the snow is falling . . . falling light;
Every shrub and tree is wreathed,
Roofs are covered . . . snow-drift sheathed;
The brooklet’s turbid waters flow,
A jagged thread across the snow.
Away on earth’s white hidden rim
My hills the aerial spaces limn . . .
Beckon thru the ambient air
To my quiet place of prayer.
When the clouds roll back to free them,
Peaks of sunrise! I shall see them!
April’s snow is passing light . . .
It can linger but a night,
But my hill tops, white and deep,
All their winter vestments keep,
In late Autumn woven . . . spun . . .
Gold and amethist (sic) in the sun!
When the clouds roll back to free them,
Peaks of sunrise! I shall see them!
(This is about an April snow, but it works in early November, too. I love this one.)
Sun, Nov 4 Willard comes twice to-day. Wait on Mother pretty close & sleep on the floor at night. Have a good dinner & supper but have to work all day. Ashton takes (??) to Ben’s.
And here is a poem written in 1927 about the great Vermont flood.
AWAKENED VERMONT
We slept secure among the hills,
Our streams were fed by mountain rills,
To the safety of our sheltered vales
There often came most harrowing tales
Of flood and famine and sore distress,
And heart-throb calls of S. O. S.
To us came the glory of autumn days,
Our hills with beauty were all ablaze,
The breath of summer was lingering late
And vacation spirit hung over the State.
We scarcely heeded the lowering sky,
The mutter of storm clouds rolling high,
The lurid glare of the angry west,
The blood-red sun as it sank to rest.
We were not dismayed by a day of rain
As it clamored and beat at our window’s pane,
But muttering voices of little rills
Came warningly down among the hills,
They raced to the rivers, rising high,
And the rain still poured from a leaden sky.
The waters went mad as dams gave way,
They swept the valleys that fatal day,
Dark lowering clouds hung over the race
To hide the Spectre keeping the pace . . .
Fields and meadows were swept and then
Barns and bridges and homes of men.
None of these things their fury withstood . . .
The valleys are strewn with kindling wood!
The valleys are strewn with the toil of years
And sorrows are there too deep for tears,
The clouds still hang in a threatening sky
As tho to hide where the pale dead lie.
Above the waters and their trail of woe
The whelming waves of sympathy flow. . .
O, let us give praise to the FAther above
For the hearts of gold and the hands of love!
For the aid and shelter that the homeless await
The length and breadth of our busy State!
Mon, Nov 5 Hattie & Lu go to White River Junction on morning train. Ashton here to an early dinner. I drive him to the station at 10 o’clock. Call at Mrs. Pierce’s & get Hattie’s begonia. Tuttle goes to Middlebury.
These posts are repeats, since I started the 1900 diary last year, in October. In the interest of tidiness, I’ll finish out the year, then start with another couple of diaries in January.
Here’s a poem from “Idylls of Champlain” in honor of this morning’s dusting of snow:
FROM MY WINDOW
Winter rain came pattering down,
It soaked the roofs of the grey old town,
The skies turned a dark and sullen hue,
The air grew a little keener too;
The snow fell light as thistle down,
And whitened the earth so bare and brown;
It flurried about each skeleton tree,
And with every passer-by made free;
It coated each roof in spotless white,
And on each shrub clung fast and tight.
The rifts in the clouds wore a lovely blue,
The air grew a little keener too,
On a silent town in spotless white,
The moon smiled down from her dizzy height.
Through feathery aisles of orchard trees,
Over roofs of patient quiet bees,
On the fences and over the lane,
Out on the meadow’s level plain,
The fettered brooklet showing through,
The mountain tops in the distant blue;
All in their snowy dress of white,
And the smiling moon on her dizzy height.
ON MANSFIELD
On the crest of Mansfield
Glistening in the sun,
The trail is a path of mica
In web of silver spun,
It leads through spiny balsams
Where emerald mosses grow,
Through brilliant depths of patterned pus
Wtih small white stars aglow . . .
Starry blooms of purest white
Lifting their faces to the light!
There are crevices on Mansfield
Where rare plants tangled cling,
Where beds of tiny blossoms
Over the thin turf fling
A coverlet to hide
The terrifying scope,
The grim and bald reality
Of Mansfield’s rocky slope . . .
A garden in the clouds
For Celestial hosts intended
Upon this lofty haunt
Where Heaven and earth are blended.
The trail leads over chasms
Upward to the Chin
Where unleashed winds in carnival
Forever are holding din!
Gargantuan spurs like breast-works
Reach in endless sweep
Into peaceful valleys
Where sunkissed homesteads sleep.
A white church stand lone
Where country roads are crossed,
Hills like billows, crest on crest,
In distances are lost.
Mountain ranges in serried ranks
In green robes march away
And Champlain proudly spreads
Her islands in display:
Beyond her shining leagues
The Adirondacks rise,
Their contours blue against the deeps
Of changing summer skies.
Inspiring crest of Mansfield!
An atom as gossamer tossed,
In the grandeur of God’s creation
Infinitesimal man is lost!
II Sunrise
Dawn of light in the east!
Crown of hills in the mist,
Like islands in inland seas!
Crimson edges of cloud
Some glory seeking to shroud,
Drifting before the breeze!
Over far impregnable height
On the vanishing skirts of night,
Emerges a disk of gold!
Chasing the mists away,
Bringing another day
Of mountain beauty bold!
III Sunset
Flaming, dying in the west,
Twilight shadows veiled in rest!
Purpling shades of falling night
Softly stealing o’er the height!
Call of a thrush on the mountain side,
Clear in the hush of eventide! . . .
The templed gate of Heaven unbars
To a spangled arch of night hung stars!
IV Storm
On the crest of Mansfield
The lurid lightnings flash!
Mighty thunder rolls above
The mountain,crash on crash!
Outside the hostelry comes the beat,
As the rush of marching feet . . .
Windblown sheets of rain
Against the window pane!
The guest together in friendliness
Draw to the cheer of the fireplace . . .
Laughter . . . music . . . light
At the shutting down of night,
Height and depth and day
And the wet rocks shut away,
Caressed and kissed
By the drifting mist
And the drip, drip, drip of the rain
Outside the window pane!
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Fri, Nov 9 Mother comes down stairs the first time.
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
Sat, Nov 10 Bake, mop &ct. Go down street P.M. Iron in the evening.
Here’s the transcript of a clipping from a scrapbook Ella Fisher compiled. It’s from the first anniversary of the Armistice.
VERGENNES ROLL OF HONOR
Memorial Tablet Unveiled on Armistice Day
Services In Bixby Memorial Free Library Largely Attended–Lieut. Gov. Stone Orator Of the Day–Poems By Mrs. Ella Warner Fisher
Tuesday, November 11, the first anniversary of the signing of the armistice and the ending of the World war, was fittingly observed in Vergennes, the day being made memorable by the ceremonies in connection with the unveiling of the tablet erected in the memory and bearing the names of the 115 young men who were in the service at some time during the war. The day was far from ideal, rain in the morning being followed by cloudy weather and a cold wind.
The formal exercises of the day were held in the rotunda of the Bixby Memorial Free library, on account of the threatening weather outside. The library was specially arranged and appropriately decorated for the occasion, every detail of the program being carried out in a creditable manner. . . .
Mrs. W. A. Dalrymple, for the committee of the D. A. R., presided at the exercises in an able and pleasing manner. Mrs. Ella Warner Fisher read a poem especially written for the occasion entitled “Our Sons,” which appears in full on page 2 of this issue. .
The design of the honor roll is plain but exceedingly artistic and appropriate in every detail. Seth Warner chapter, D.A.R., have demonstrated in a most definite manner their ability to care for the commemoration of notable historical events, and have good and sufficient reason to point to the result of the laudable efforts with a large degree of pride. The selection of a site for the tablet is considered a particularly happy one.
To Seth Warner chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution is due the principal credit for the success of the day’s program. It is true they received valuable assistance from the board of aldermen, the trustees of Bixby Memorial library, and other prominent citizens who interested themselves in the project as a matter of patriotic pride and desire to have due honor rendered to the veterans of the war who went from Vergennes and vicinity to fight for Democracy.
OUR SONS
Our fathers blazed a trail
In the wilderness
Such as we,
In the comfort of our homes,
Cannot conceive.
The path which they paved
Has lengthened its girth
To that civilization
Which has made America
The greatest nation on the earth.
It is our privilege
As Daughters of the American Revolution,
To perpetuate their memory;
To twine their names with Everlasting.
Their courage in hardship,
In peril and death,
We would tell it in words
That flame with the breath.
Their guns are silent,
Their forms are still,
But their lives live on
All time to thrill.
It has become our privilege
To honor the names of our sons;
They were accustomed to the ways of peace,
They imbibed it in homes and churches
And its restfulness
Made them good citizens.
With the pure air
And grand out-doors of God’s country,
They also imbibed
And undying patriotism,
A love of liberty
And its glorious emblem,
The beautiful star spangled banner.
Nobly the answered the country’s call;
It came from the war worn,
The despairing across the sea,
From the trenches
And the red desert of “no man’s land,”
It came from the gurgle
Of hungry waters
Where brave ships were drowning,
It came from the east and the west
While the foes of the Nation
Plotted ruin and waste,
Even its homes,
By the prowling of spies
Were in jeopardy placed.
Bravely they marched away
But oh, the heartache they left,
The homes with an empty chair,
A coat and a cap on the wall,
A vacant place at the table;
Even the streets and the highways
Were altars of prayer,
And the hush of dread and expectancy
Hung like a cloud
On the troubled air.
It is through the mercy of God
So man of them are here today;
They gave themselves
And we are here to honor them
with infinite care and skill
Their names have been cast in bronze,
Lest we forget.
As we look into their faces
Our hearts are filled with thanksgiving;
They have been returned to us
instead of empty aching hearts
And the memory of a white cross,
Somewhere in France.
The guns are silent,
The slain are still,
But their lives live on
All time to thrill.
The co-partnership of our sister town,
The interest and enthusiasm,
The aid our friends and townspeople
Have so generously given
Are things to be remembered.
Together we have wrought
During the cycles of the past year.
Side by side we have thought,
Looking forward to the is day,
And our harts have grown warm
With the glow of friendliness.
Our thought wanders
Down the vista of the future
When the names on this Honor Roll
Will be scanned by unfamiliar eyes;
When reverent lip[s will speak them
As a holy memory,
And reverent hearts will keep them,
A monument for all time.
THE TOMB OF MOSES
The hills of Moab are far away,
In their deep recesses the lightnings play.
They guard a secret, have guarded it well,
No mortal has known the tale to tell.
It may be some wild floweret grows
Above the spot but no man knows,
It may be in some shirven rock,
A part of the heart of some granite block,
Or over its face some rivulet flows
To swell the Arnon . . . but no man knows.
The stars came out but they did not tell,
The wind wept down where cities dwell,
But its force was spent . . . its breath was gone,
It told no tales as it sped on.
The lightnings flash . . . they guard it well,
The secret no man lives to tell.
Henry Fisher died on this date in 1916.
THE MILLENNIUM
The still quiet of the mountain glen,
The keen sweet air where the balsams grow, bal-
sam and pine and cedar.
Foot paths that lead thru still deep woods,
Whispering winds in the tamarack boughs,
sighing among the spruces,
Bringing the news from a far-a-way world like the
flutter of a newspaper leaf in a doorway;
The doorway of a little cabin at the mountain foot,
which a woman shuts quickly to keep out the wind,
A woman watchful and patient and children
around the supper table.
A man putting wood into a broken stove, his dark
hair tousled on a knitted brow, a fanatical
light in his eyes, caught perhaps, from the
glowing coals in the bottom of the grate;
Wood chopper among the tamaracks and spruces,
Worker in the lumber camps,
Watcher of fires along the mountain side,
Dreamer of dreams, his mentality touched with a
slight bewilderment, inherited it may be,
from the stillness and the whispering trees.
Head of a family and quiet children,
sitting around the supper table, helped by a
patient, tireless mother.
The end of the world!
Hadn’t the Messenger said so?
Wasn’t it there in the Bible, –the Bible open on
the table?
And the Messenger said tey must go to-morrow,
To-morrow at midnight, to the top of the moun-
tain . . .
The Cloud would be there to meet them!
One more day! Should they burn the Cabin?
It was a neat Cabin;
Its cracks were carefully stuffed with rags,
It was covered with pictures and clippings out
from papers and magazines brought from the
village at the Falls.
(The lines that being with lower-case letters were indented in the original, I presume to fit on the page.)
Helen died on this date in 1965.
II
The last day! Ascension!
Clouds, and wind moaning desolately thru the
wood aisles!
Whistling around the Cabin where the family sat
at the table eating their last supper.
There was no hurry . . . it was hours to mid-
night.
The dishes were washed and carefully put away,
Everything was in order, set back on the white
sanded floor, scrubbed clean that day.
Perhaps they better go; there were snow flakes in
the air; the man knew the trails . . . but
darkness, snow and wind . . . they better
go.
The youngest child . . . could she take her doll,
the beautiful doll given her by the rich lad
last summer?
There were no dolls in Heaven . . . What harm?
It could be left on the mountain top.
They went out into the uncertain twilight and
shut the door;
Into the dim path along the foot of the mountain
to the trail that led upward.
Darkness and snow and wind!
Hours of toil and climbing! Chill of wind
and snow!
Whimpering of children, upward, upward, ever
upward into the Cloud!
The Cloud, a fierce blinding blizzard holding car-
nival with the winds, sweeping in blinding
fury over the mountain top!
Whining and snarling over the frozen mosses!
Crashing and shrieking among the jagged boulders!
Into a little hollow the exhausted man stumbled
with his numbed and freezing family.
They were all there . . . it had been a hard
climb, but the end was easy . . . so easy!
Midnight and the Millennium!
SOUTHWARD TO THE SEA
Coming from the Northland,
Land of pine and cedar,
Land of spruce and hemlock,
Land of hill and mountain,
Down the changing valley;
Hills ablaze with foliage.
Hills of New Hampshire,
Hills of Vermont,
Roadway and railway,
The Connecticut between;
Stately, proud of burdens
Mirrored in its waters;
Forgetting itself to narrow,
Narrow twist and turn
In a level space of meadow
Like any other river;
Then in caprice broadening,
Embracing small green islands,
Reflecting camps and cottages
Along its peaceful depths.
Homes along the valleys,
Homes upon the hills,
Wood and brick and stone.
Roofs of many fancies,
Each man with his own
Out in velvet meadows,
Perched on bristling hillsides,
Nestling by the roadway . . .
(There’s magic in a home.)
Gardens full of color
Flaming in the sunlight;
Golden rod and aster
Nodding by the way.
Then a lone deserted house
Windowless for many a day;
Tangle of cinnamon roses,
Forgotten lilac bushes
Line the erstwhile pathway
Leading to the door;
Garnished rooms and stillness,
Never children’s voices,
Never sound of laughter
Echoes any more.
There’s a little huddle yonder
Of slabs all mossed and grey;
No one left to care for them . . .
Their great, great grandchildren
Are far and far away.
Here and there a hilltop,
White the roadway winding
Down into a valley,
Often over bridges
Where a river threads its way;
Village homes on either side,
Shaven lawns and shade trees,
Stores and ornate churches,
Vistas meshed in sunshine . . .
New England thrift and beauty
Drawing curious strangers
In rolling lines of autos
From dawn till shut of day.
Piles of earth; heaps of stone
Brought from tireless crushers,
Roads each year improving,
Rough places reconstructing,
Trucks and monster rollers,
Narrow detours jolting
Over ditch and hummock,
Squads with pick and shovel
Slow moving in a hold up
Lines of waiting autos
Impatient to be gone.
Palatial homes with stone walled in,
Posts of stone like sentinels
Guarding open driveways,
Banks of piled up rolling stone,
Rocky slopes of pasture,
Little farms with stone fenced in
Like some play enclosure.
Oats and wheat and barley
And fields of uncut corn,
Stooks set up for husking,
Tobacco in barns hung drying,
Harrowed fields of loam,
Denuded tent poles dancing,
At passing folks just glancing
While waiting for the spring.
Springfield our objective,
Springfield and its river
Grown corpulent and proud,
Bearing on its bosom
Crafts of many kinds.
Springfield with its bridges,
Prosperous homes and churches,
Its Campanile far flinging
The music of its bells.
White gloved guards to beckon
Holdup lines to safety
Where the traffic’s thickest
In the heart of the town;
Rest and welcome waiting . . .
Love and warmth and welcome . . .
Night . . . with traffic slowing down.
II
Dawn of day in Springfield,
Morning winged with cold,
Silent stately river,
Mists above it scrolled;
Cargoes on its bosom
On various errands bound,
Its course forever broadening,
Broadening toward the Sound.
Tucked in happy comfort,
Some dear friends and me;
We are leaving Springfield,
Rolling toward the sea.
Hills of old Connecticut,
Glimpse of sunny vales,
Railroad, road, and river,
Winding woodland trails,
Fields of bush with timber
Cut and drawn away,
Stones and stone wall fences,
Line our onward way.
One grass grown yard we saw
Where a weeping willing shed
Its sad tears on the empty air
Above the neglected dead.
Up among the pine trees
In the land we call Vermont,
Our grandsires still are telling
Of hardship, toil, and want;
Their grandsires from Connecticut
On the north bound trail were led
By patient plodding oxen,
With the family on a sled.
It was back in seventeen ninety six
They followed the winding trail
That led away thru the wilderness
In the sting of the winter gale.
Along the way we looked to see
A cart or rough hewn sled,
Or oxen plodding in the field
By some stalwart yeoman led . .
Steam rollers, trucks and squads of men!
No single trace we found
Of oxen’s hoof and cart-track trail
From Springfield to the Sound.
The Sound with its bathing beaches;
The sea with its stone shod shore,
Its tangled shreds of sea weed,
Its far fetched ceaseless roar.
Watch Hill sends a warning beacon
The passing ships to save . . .
(There’s a wreck out there in the offing
With its spars above the wave!)
We spread our picnic dinner
On the smooth protecting wall,
With the spume capped waves repeating
Their endless solemn call . . .
At the end of the road we lingered,
The sea gulls dived in the spray
And the spume capped waves repeated
Their solemn roundelay.
Mon, Nov 19 Churn in the morning. Wash afternoon. Grace at home on her vacation.
OUR MAIN STREET
On each side of our Main Street
Are houses, stores and folks to meet,
Folks we know who nod and smile,
Perhaps they stop and chat awhile,
Groups are talking here and there,
There’s no hurry . . . time to spare,
There’s no jostle of rushing feet
Up and down our broad Main Street.
Thru the trees we look away
To the tumbling of the hay,
Where the sunlight chases shadows
On the spread of sweet green meadows,
And we get exultant thrills
From the grandeur of the hills,
Sentried guards keeping tally
On the folks in Champlain Valley!
(I really like “the sunlight chases shadows/On the spread of sweet green meadows.”)
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary, Clippings, Green Mountain Echoes, Poems | Tags: church, Vergennes
Tues, Nov 20 Mop, hang clothes, &ct. Not feeling extra well.
THE CHURCH ON THE CORNER
It stands a silent monument
Of long and changing years,
Of love and service freely given,
Of faith and hopes and fears.
Its fittings, acquired one by one
With loving sacrifice
Of dear ones passed beyond our ken,
Were priceless in our eyes.
Tread softly lest the silent walls
Cry out in stark amaze;
They have echoes to the preacher’s voice
On countless Sabbath days;
They have looked on reverent lifted eyes,
Rapt faces gathered there,
Have caught the whisper of burdened souls,
The still sweet peace of prayer.
When Sabbath bells are tolling
No organ peal will swell,
No hymns of praise, no voice of prayer
Redemption’s story tell.
The silent room stands waiting . . .
Its windows light once more,
When rainbow tinted sunlight falls
Upon a dust strewn floor.
What lingers in its hushed precincts?
Tread softly, children dear . . .
We know they never can return
Who once have worshipped here.
But is there not a Presence left,
A sacredness in the air,
That breathes a benediction like
The still sweet peace of prayer!
Here is a transcript of a newspaper article published in November, 1919, before the church closed:
WOMEN’S LEAGUE
New Society Made Up Of Baptist Church Ladies
At a meeting of the ladies of the Baptist church on Wednesday afternoon, held at the home of Mrs. William A. Dalrymple, a society, known as the Women’s League of the Baptist church was organized, and officers elected as follows: President, Mrs. Ella W. Fisher; vice-president, Mrs. William L. Cotey; secretary, Mrs. Karl Field; treasurer, Mrs. W. A. Dalrymple. the object of the league is the promotion of general good fellowship, mission work, both home and foreign, and to give financial aid to the church. The meetings will be held monthly at the home of the members, and a missionary program will be arranged for each meeting. All ladies of the church and congregation are invited to attend the meetings. (Nov. 19, 1919)
(The church Ella belonged to closed because the congregation could not afford to keep it up. The building burned down shortly before she died. The “History of the Vergennes Baptist Church” that she wrote is now in the Research Center at the Henry Sheldon Museum.)
Wed, Nov 21 Wash windows, mop shed &ct. Still not feeling well. Grace goes to Burlington & Henry to Montpelier. Taken violently sick. Have doctor Gibson in the night.
BELLS OF SAINT ALBANS
O, Bells of Saint Albans!
Will we hear you in the Spring,
When the earth to life has wakened
And the birds come back to sing?
When to soft caressing breezes
Our windows wide we fling,
O, Bells of Saint Albans!
Will you ring? will you ring?
Will you ring in the summer time,
Will your music float away?
Will it echo from the hillsides
To the waters of the Bay?
Out across the sunlit meadows
Where the farmer turns his hay,
O, Bells of Saint Albans!
Will your music float away?
Will you ring, O bells of longing!
When the stubble fields are brown?
When the red and gold of Autumn
All the wooded hillsides crown?
When the yellow corn is garnered
And the plows are turning down
Furrows for the springtime planting,
Will you ring above the town?
Will you ring, O bells, in winter,
When inglenooks are bright
And Jack Frost has slyly painted
All the windows in the night?
Out across the frozen water
When the drifting snows are white,
Will you ring, O bells, in winter
When inglenooks are bright?
(I lived in St. Albans when I was a child. Our house had a long view down to the lake, and I attended the Episcopal Church on the beautiful green in the center of town. There are many churches around the green, and the bells are lovely. Once I went into the bell tower of St. Luke’s and watched the father of a friend play hymns on the carillon. So I like this poem a great deal.)
Yesterday, I received my Author’s Copy of Keeping Time: 150 years of journal writing, edited by Mary Azrael and Kendra Kopelke and published by Passager Books. A selection from Ella’s diary is published in this collection.
Sun., Dec 23 Attend church. Rehearsal takes the place of the S. S. Write Xmas letters until late.
Looking forward to posting things from the diaries of Ashton Fisher and Loraine Satterly, as well as Ella’s 1898 diary!
Fri, Nov 23 Lie still all day & can have no food. Doctor comes once today. Pay him $3.50 for this & .50 on old acct. A beautiful day outdoors.
IN THE TWILIGHT
She sits by a crib; she is young and fair,
And teaches her child his evening prayer.
The hush of twilight lies over the place,
The gathering shadows lie soft on his face,
The lids droop slowly on questioning eyes
‘Til gently sleeping the baby lies.
The glamour of nightfall about us is cast,
She dreams of the future; I, of the past,
When I rocked my babies to and fro
In this self same room so long ago.
(I wonder which of her children Ella was writing about? As far as I know, Ashton and Hattie had two daughters, Helen, Grace and Ruth were childless. Henrietta and her husband adopted one son; Gertrude (Thomas) had two daughters–and lived in Springfield, Vermont. Benjamin had a son and a daughter, and Anna (Metcalf) a daughter and two sons.)
SPINDRIFT
The tide went out . . . it bore away
Laughter, love and truth,
Joy and pain, days and years,
Friendships, tears and youth . . .
All, all were white out-going ships
To some misty port unknown . . .
It left a stretch of sodden sand
Stark, silent and alone.
The tide is ebbing . . . ebbing out
Along the mist hung sea,
Wild pounding waves are flinging high
Their salt spray over me.
Where are all my gallant ships,
With their flags and streamers gay,
Bringing their treasures home to me,
The ones they bore away?
The tide is creeping . . . creeping in . . .
In whitened clouds they come!
They strew the sands with broken things
My lost ships drifted home!
Days and years! love and youth!
Memories! spindrift! foam!
A handful I have gathered you . . .
Memories, drifted home!
MY BELOVED
My heritage to earth and mankind
Is the Beloved I must leave behind,
When I go forth a place to fill
In the silent city on the hill.
I taught their lisping lips to pray,
Set their feet in God’s white highway . . .
A promise was graven deep on my heart,
That a child so taught would not depart
From precepts instilled in that early hour . . .
That an all-wise Power
Would guide each life
In the rush and strife
Of a money-mad world.
Deep in the heart of each is encurled
The truth I planted there,
So when I fare
Some waiting day
From earth away,
A blessing to mankind will be
The Beloved who carry on for me.
SUNSET
To Alice Keech
“May your life have just enough clouds
to make a glorious sunset.”
When you wrote those lines so old
Did you see the sunset’s gold
As it flushed the western sky?
Did you know that I
Must pass the flaming gate
Soon or late?
Did you know that it stands wide,
Sunrise on its other side
Touching spires and streets of gold
Of a City that lies fourfold?
And can you see
Awaiting me,
A Mansion with an open door
Where I shall bide forevermore?
COMING
You are coming bye and bye,
Shall I
Be glad to greet you?
Shall I meet you with a smile?
Many a long and weary mile
On a trail, to me unknown,
You will come to claim me
For your own!
Love is strong from you to hold me!
Beauty’s glorious robes enfold me!
Night falls and we pray
That you linger on the way.
You are coming soon or late!
Will you linger, will you wait
While I
Tell my loves a last good bye?
Mon., Dec 3 Henry kills the pigs. Mother carries Grace to her school. Go down to Mr. Bartlett’s to teachers meeting.
MY PRAYER
To be snatched from life
When the days are sweet,
When the nights are full
With health replete . . .
Grant, I pray this boon to me
From Death my soul to wrest
That joyous, living I may be
Snatched to Thy loving breast!
INVOCATION
Night’s hushed shadows fill my room,
A Heavenly peace is in the gloom,
A brooding Presence waiting near
My supplicating words to hear . . .
Softly whispered words of prayer
Breathed into the evening air . . .
“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep.”
With blessing in His tender hands
Close the Holy Presence stands . . .
“If I should die before I wake,
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take,
For Jesus’ sake.”
Jesus, Master, hovering near,
Hear
The prayer I make
And then,
With its last
“Amen,”
Close my eyes in blessed sleep,
Watch above me keep
Until the shadows of the night
Vanish in Thy glorious light.
THE CEDARS
On each side of the path
Straight and tall,
Bronzed by the weather,
Voices of the wind
Whispering among their branches.
Planted long ago
With children playing about them,
They were rooted in the soil.
They grew up together . . .
The children and the trees,
But the children went away!
Now, when the night falls early
And the windows shine out in the darkness,
There are long shadows on the white roadway
Cast by the cedars standing straight and tall . . .
Listening . . . listening for homing footsteps
With the wind whispering among their branches.
Sat., Dec 8 Make pumpkin pies, bathe children. Attend to the S. S. lesson. Sick tonight & hurry off to bed.
WINTER CLOUDS
Dark sullen clouds are lifting
Fantastic shapes on high,
In changing masses drifting
Across the wintry sky.
Lifting,
Drifting,
Ever shifting
Across the wind swept sky.
Somewhere the sun is shining —
Must be they’ve turned to gold,
For the fringes of their lining
Our longing eyes behold;
Shining,
Lining,
Intertwining,
Our watching eyes behold.
With dark days ever coping
Behind the frosted pane,
Our waiting hearts are hoping
‘Til Springtime comes again,
Groping,
Coping,
Hoping
‘Til Springtime comes again.
(This is the final poem from “Idylls of Champlain.” The whole thing is available in Google Books–see links.)
MY NEIGHBOR
My neighbor’s house is silent now,
No smoke from the chimnies (sic) rise,
Its shadeless windows are all ablaze
With the light from the morning skies.
The place is gloomed with stillness strange,
No children come to play,
No familiar forms pass in and out,
For my neighbor has moved away.
When the evening stars shone softly down
On the city’s lights below,
Through the quiet dark I used to see
My neighbor’s lights aglow.
No answering light shines out to-night,
But heartache drifts this way . .
My genial, friendly neighbor has gone. . .
Alas, he has moved away!
We did not often travel the path,
Our meetings were few and rare,
But it was a comforting thought to me
To have a neighbor there.
Strangers will live in the empty house
And time on wings will fly . . .
The neighbor I loved I shall miss, and miss
More as the days go by.
THE EMPTY BARN
Sometimes I hear a sound
As of horses kicking flies;
Restless stepping to and fro
Upon the stable floor.
The wind perhaps, may pound
A board that’s loose somewhere . . .
May shake a hingeless door . .
No hoofs, I know, are there.
But scurrying mice there are,
And intrepid rats that glide
In and out the empty stalls
Where once your cattle fed.
Soft footed cats may fare
Across the sodden hay,
By hunting instinct boldly led
To pounce upon their prey.
You go no more at eventide
To snug things for the night.
Your cheery voice no more I hear
Or the cattle’s answering call.
The empty barn is big and wide . . .
Your name I softly speak . . .
The wind replies and that is all,
Except the old door’s creak.
A MEMORY
To sit by the hearth and muse
While the fire burns low;
To recall the days gone by . . .
The scenes where once he mingled . .
The upon his face
As he told a long yarn
About the Civil War,
Or the last exciting fox chase
Along the snow covered run ways
Between the hills.
He loved the chase,
And many were the days
He returned in the dark of evening
Foot sore and hungry . . .
Often soaked with rain
And nothing but his beloved gun
And the dog . . . always the dog . . .
Sometimes two!
He liked sympathetic listeners;
He waited until some one came in,
When warmed and fed,
His dogs asleep beside the fire,
He could relate to appreciative ears
The adventures of the day.
To sit by the hearth and muse
While the embers faintly glow;
To long to hear again
The music of his cheery whistle
As he stamped about doing chores;
To see again the look of satisfaction
On his face
When a piece of work was finished . . .
A good crop safely housed
Within the barn . . .
To muse while the embers die
And grey ashes lie above them;
To listen for a step that never comes
While the night grows cold . . .
Out on the hill great trees bend and sigh,
Their long shadows lie on the moonlit ground
And a grave that is white with snow.
(I don’t think this is about her husband Henry.)
NIGHT
Night’s silvered feet steal over the hill
And all the noisy world grows still,
Deep shadows trail in her somber gown,
A crescent moon lights her starry crown,
She lures me with compelling charm . .
As my lost Mother’s gentle arm
Enfolded her child in measureless rest,
To fall asleep on her healing breast.
(Once again, I am struck by how many of Ella’s poems deal with night. This is the first in a whole section of “Green Mountain Echoes.” It may have to do with her being the mother of 8 children.)
NIGHT AND THE STARS
Night and the stars,
in pools of infinite height!
Dew frosted world
drenched in floods of silver light!
Faintly waving grass where tree shadows lie
And cloud shadows pass in the deeps of the sky!
Night and the stars
bending to croon;
Hushing the restless things
under the moon!
Softening the sorrows that into life will seep,
Bringing the blessed boon of soothing sleep!
STARLIGHT
The stars are a pattern of lace
Spangled with diamonds,
Draped in limitless space,
Fashioned by the hand of God!
Commensurate veil
Hiding the White City
And the outgoing trail
Of souls unshod . . .
Lost to my longing sight
In the holy beauty of Night!
(Really interesting imagery.)
At the Stewart-Swift Research Center at the Henry Sheldon Museum is a box of diaries from the Fisher family. Most of them were written by Ella, but there is one written by her oldest son, Ashton, when he was 13-14 years old. I’ll be posting his diary entries on this blog, starting on January first–with the very kind permission of the Research Center’s librarian–but I thought I’d post a hint of what’s ahead.
In the back of Ashton Fisher’s diary, in the Memoranda section, he wrote (and the spelling, etc., is all his):
Magor died Tues Dec 21th 1886 and petter Hare help me burry him Fri Dec 24 1886 he died with poison that was throught him the last thing he killed was a coon out to Uncle Bens and I staite at home and done the chorch.
I killed the first fox I ever killed Thanksgiving 1886 with Mager, father is away and I had his gun I went with (?). I sold the skin for 125 and the bounty was .50 so it mad it 1.75 cts.
I bought my gun Jan. 3th 1887 for $12.50 of Father. Father has know gun I keep the Gun up in my room and all the ammunition.
I sold my skins to Tompson for $12.50 I had 14 skunk and two coons skins I sold my skins Jan 1st 1887
Peter gave me a white skunk Jan 4 1887 Henry Maldbon gave me a album Jan 4 1887
let Bennie fortin have a bord Jan 18th 1887
Hubert Pirce father was aressed Jan 25 and sent to the work house and died Jan 28 1887 and was burd Jan 29 1887
Charlie Gooslaw Father was put in jail Feb. 19. 1887 for being drunk. but he broke the jail and got away but they got him again, and Father took him to (blotted).
The Yattow Boy (Charlie) was shot by the Sandres Boy Jan 26 1887 and died Feb 10 1887
I hired out to Mr Ketcham March 19-1887 and went to workk Monday March 21-1887
Filed under: 1900 Ella's diary
These are some of the ACCOUNTS Ella wrote down in the back of the 1900 diary– (I’ve separated the received and paid columns, but in the book they are next to one another.)
Jan Paid
1 Pledge 1.00
4 tablet & pencils .10
“ calendar .18
“ shoulder braces .50
“ thread & pins .18
“ soap.Helen .25
“ Groceries 2.25
7 church .50
8 Express,Ruth .26
“ hooks & eyes .08
9 wash. Helen .25
8 mincemeat seasoning 1.68
12 Groceries 1.00
“ elastic &tc .24
14 church .35
“ Grace on bill .25
16 on steamer .75
17 Gertrude 1.00
“ Henrietta .05
20 Groceries 1.25
“ spool silk .10
“ wash. Helen .50
21 church .35
27 groceries 1.71
“ Grace 1.00
28 church .35
30 groceries 1.53
“ thread & elastic .25
“ paper .30
“ postage .10
received
4 Board to date 4.00
“ eggs 1 1/2 dozen .54
“ chicken .40
“ rebate tickets .30
13 chickens 1.92
13 board to date 4.00
16 chickens .48
17 chickens 2.43
19 4 chickens 1.88
20 Board to date 4.25
27 board 4.00
30 board 4.25
Feb. paid
1 chicken .50
3 cheese .25
“ crackers .25
4 church .50
10 groceries 1.57
“ oil .35
“ Postals .10
11 church .47
14 car fare 1.05
“ Anna shoes 1.00
“ (?) Gertrude .53
15 Cape 21.00
“ underwear 4.00
“ corset 1.00
“ stockings 1.14
“ gingham 1.50
“ coat 5.00
“ Grace bal .90
“ hack .25
“ Benjamin clothes 2.00
“ Gertrude 2.00
“ Henry shirts 2.00
“ waist .50
“ thread .18
16 groceries
20. milk .70
“ elastics & buttons .36
24 groceries 1.29
“ oil .35
“ soap (tar) .25
“ Flowers (Flossie Pierce) .25
25 Church .35
27 postage .25
28 milk to date .35
received
4 eggs. 4 doz .98
10 board 4.00
16 board 4.00
24 board 4.00
Filed under: Poems
ON NEW YEAR’S EVE
Like diamonds thru a veil
The city lights gleamed pale.
Around me lay a silence deep,
All the household hushed in sleep;
At my window fell the storm
While I sat watching for a form
Slowly vanishing from sight
In the shadows of the night.
The story long ago was told
How a form but one year old,
Bent with age, was seen to leave
At twelve o’clock on New Year’s Eve—
That one short year ago tonight
A happy infant crowned with light,
On wings of gossamer came down
While bells were ringing thru the town,
Churches echoed with praise and prayer
And music floated on the air,
While youth on eager tripping feet
The rhythmic, lilting measure beat.
The bending skies the New Year kissed,
The storm so gentle, a fine white mist,
At my window a stillness deep,
The quiet household wrapped in sleep
And then the story I was told. . .
A vanishing form enfeebled and old,
Burdened and bent with the sins of men,
Bent with their woes, their blunders, and then
Bearing them all.. .I tried to see. . .
Into the vale of Eternity!
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
This year, I’ll be posting entries from three diaries. Ashton wrote his in 1887, the year he turned 14. Ella’s diary was written in 1898. And Loraine Satterly, the grandmother of Karl Field, the man Henrietta Fisher later married, wrote her diary in 1903, when she was about 68. The punctuation and spellings are theirs. . .
The diaries written by Ashton and Ella appear with the kind permission of the Stewart-Swift Research Center at the Henry Sheldon Museum. The Satterly diary was given me by Henrietta’s grandson’s widow, and will soon be in the collection of the Ferrisburgh Historical Society.
ASHTON, Sat., Jan. 1, 1887 A new year. Very cold. Sold my skunks and coons skins to Thompson for $12.50 split wood in the sood-shed. Father is down town toun Browns horse is here in our barn. Peter is not working
ELLA, Sat., Jan. 1, 1898 Bake all day. Bath children. Fix Helen’s dress. Storming all night and part of the morning, drifting and blowing. Hattie helps me all day like a good girl. May this new year be better than the last & we live nearer Him.
LORAINE, Thurs., Jan. 1, 1903 Very mild, bright fine day. I baked beans in morning, cut blocks for quilt in P.M. Karl spent quite a deal of time skating on the pond.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON Sun., Jan. 2 Do not go to church, stay at home. Brown takes his horse away. I take back the horse for mother and Grace. cold day.
LORAINE Fri., Jan. 2 Beautiful day–Lizzie and I went to Burlington–the terrible railroad accident happened in which five were killed. We fell in with good company. Train delayed so did not get home until 3 in morning.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: MON., JAN. 3, 1887 splight wood. bought my gun from Father he has no gun now Father sold the bull. Peter wakes in the after noon. cold day
LORAINE: Sat., Jan. 3, 1903 Rained in morning. Karl went home on the flyer– P.M. and I went to city in forenoon. Rained consierable in P.M. Felt pretty well used up from yesterday’s experience. Gave up all the worldy goods I possess to pay up for some of Hosea debittre Oh how I wish it might be the will of the Lord to rid this world of the accursed rascal.
As you will see, Loraine was not fond of her son-in-law.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Tues., Jan. 4 went to school. Peter gave me a white skunk. Father tooked the bull away and he drove the coalt on the slay and I went with him down to the brige.
ELLA: Tues., Jan. 4 Henry & Ashton kill 3 pigs. Sick to day & face swollen out of shape. Sew on Hud’s garters. Poor Fred Cor dies to-day.
LORAINE: Sun., Jan. 4 Froze some last night quite pleasant this morning. Ralph Lizzie and I went to church. I went away after the dinner work was done. Thawed considerable during the day.
Evas birth day. Poor child to be married to an accursed rascal.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Note an addition to yesterday’s post for Loraine: Evas birth day. Poor child to be married to an accursed rascal. She really didn’t like her son-in-law!
ASHTON: Wed. Jan. 5 went to schoo. carried my Gun down to Let (?) Brown school keeped all day. Father run the milk. the weather is warmer Peter goes to Bens.
ELLA: Wed., 5 Wm. Oliver dies to-day. Henry Warner killed by a train in Fitchburg. Sew on Anna’s nightdress. Ashton goes to Snake Mt & back. Cut up and sort lard & sausage meat.
LORAINE: Mon., Jan. 5 Flurry of snow but turned out a very fine day. Washed and got most of the ironing done.* (hers) Rather mild-more like Nov than Jan
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Thurs., Jan. 6, 1887 Went to school. all day did not go home at noon went without my dinner went to meeting at night with mother an Ruth.
LORAINE: Tues., Jan. 6, 1903 Mild. Snowing some in morning continued until late in PM> Church and Society meeting in P.M. Mr. Bailey entertainment at church in evening a very pleasant time. About 40 out. Colder-beautiful bright evening.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Fri., Jan. 7, 1887 went to school, all day. went down town at night a sliding with Browns bobyes. got my gun that mr B fixed, took my dinner at noon
LORAINE: Wed., Jan. 7, 1903 Rachel went to New York today-morning mail- In PM R.M. went to city to get horse shod. I went to Philas. Ralph came home with me. It snowed but not hard all the afternoon.
(“R.M.”, as far as I can tell, is how Loraine refers to her husband Ralph. She often ends sentences with periods that look like dashes, so I will use dashes, too.)
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES
ASHTON: Mon., Feb. 7, 1887 Went to school all day got MM (that’s what it looks like) qt of milk hit Ben Hayes in the nose and made it bleed.
ELLA: Mon., Feb. 7, 1898 Churn. Probably the last time until the new milk. Dr. comes.
LORAINE: Sat., Feb. 7, 1903 A bright, lovely day quite cold. Mrs. Scott buried funeral from the ME church. Ralph one of the bearers. I did not go to the house, but I called on Mrs. Knowles before service, and at Mr Lees after a very pleasant call at both places. Karl spent the day skating in the evening Leons came up and skated on the pond with him.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sat., Jan. 8, 1887 work in the mill in A.M. and drowed slats with Peter in P.M. got an pare of mittens at Stors and they were good for nothing went and got $20.00 change (the $20 is his–he must have meant $2 or even $.20!)
LORAINE: Thurs., Jan. 8, 1903 Snowed some in the morning but finaly cleared away and we had a lovely day. I finished hemming my table pieces. In the morning Miss Fisher & I went down to the Pirketts Mill and Lizzie went to the city. The evening was glorious.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., Jan. 9, 1887 stade at home all day Peter brought a black skunk up here nd hung it in the slerer (maybe “cellar”). I went sliding
LORAINE: Fri., Jan. 9 A most delightful winters day. Will cleared out the ice house in forenoon. In P.M. it grew cold threatened to storm. Karl came home P.M. went to station for him. I was delighted to see him. I began cutting pieces for another quilt. It stormed and wind blew from the south.
Remember that Karl eventually married Ella’s daughter Henrietta.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., Jan. 10, 1887 went to school all day and took my dinner very cold day. smoked hams and eat some went up town at noon.
ELLA: Mon., Jan. 10 A lovely mild day. Ashton goes to the Mt. Hattie & I wash flannels, make mince meat, head cheese, et. Sponge bread.
LORAINE: Sat., Jan. 10 Threatened to storm but did not amount to much–a lovely winters day. Karl spent a deal of time skating on the pond back of the house broke one of his skate straps. Sleighing fine. I worked on quilt some in P.M.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Tues, Jan. 11, 1887 went to school all day carried my dinner at noon father run the mill all day
ELLA: Tues., Jan. 11, 1898 Do white-wash. Mop. Go down street P.M. A lovely day. Henry goes to the Mt. Benby (?) goes down to Tuttle’s office and writes a letter on the typewriter to Ralph. Season & cook mince meat.
LORAINE: Sun., Jan. 11, 1903 Pretty cold. Wind from south-We all went to church but Will. Stormed hard all the afternoon. Karl went on half past four train. Quite a goodly attendance at church.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Wed., Jan. 12, 1887 went to school all day did not carry my dinner at (sic) but came home for dinner went down town at night
ELLA: Wed., Jan.. 12 Churn, iron & make 10 pies, Hattie & I before dinner.
LORAINE: Mon., Jan. 12 Pleasant in the morning but wind blew furiously after a little snow blew in clouds and piled up considerable. Roads so bad I sent Miss Fisher her dinner. I worked on quilt in P.M. Pretty cold.
Note that “dinner” is the noon meal. Many Vermonters, including my husband, use “dinner” instead of “lunch.” I suspect that the Miss Fisher to whom Loraine refers is Grace, who is perhaps teaching at the Robinson School, which was fairly close to Satterly Road in Ferrisburgh. If any reader knows for sure, I’d love to know!
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Thurs., Jan. 13, 1887 went to school all day and carry my dinner father runs the mill go to pray-meeting at night with mother
LORAINE: Tues., Jan. 13, 1903 Very lovely day and snowing I did sitting down work nearly all day Literary club met at Mrs Martins-Will spent the evening at the Birketts
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Fri., Jan. 14, 1887 father does not run the mill beous it snows carry my dinner at school do not get excuse at night but stay
LORAINE: Wed., Jan. 14, 1903 A bright glorious day-I spent most of the day getting ready for the school children-a lovely little company of eleven took time with us, Mr Dartt came for the girls and spent the evening. Josie Sears came for Eddie Sears children Mr. Garripa & Harry here and killed the pigs R M sold three of them
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sat., Jan. 15, 1887 snow all day. got a cold and was sick went to the mill and built my sled and took it down to Gravlen
ELLA: Sat. Jan. 15, 1898 Make 6 loaves of bread and 7 pies before breakfast. Go downstreet after dinner. Sweep front chambers & sitting room. Hattie sweeps hall & stairs. She & I make rugs, bathe children. Tired tonight. Snowing.
LORAINE: Thurs., Jan. 15, 1903 Cloudy in the morning and snowing some. Miss Fisher came home to her dinner, one of the James girls went to Panton to work the other one so sick she would not stay in school.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., Jan. 16, 1887 do not go to church because I was sick stay at home all day Peter is up here all day
LORAINE: Fri. Jan. 16 A nice day. Lizzie and I nearly finished our butchering work. Miss Fisher came home afternoon sick. Did not go back again. So bad she could not go home. We sent for Dr. Bigson in evening to see her. Karl came home in evening.
Lizzie is a hired girl.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Mon., Jan. 17, 1887 go to school and take my dinner got my sled and left it to Uncle June shop went at noon and got a bord for (?)
LORAINE: Sat., Jan. 17. 1903 A very pleasant day. Miss Fisher went home just before dinner. We finished our butchering. Mr. & Mrs. Bailey called in P.M. Karl went for Henry to skate with him in P.M. Lewis came in evening to skate with him a little while then came in and spent the evening.
This “Henry” would not be Henry Fisher. I’m interested in Ashton’s use of “to” instead of “at.” It’s a pretty common Vermont usage, even now.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Tues., Jan. 18, 1887 went to school all day and took my dinner worked on my bobies at noon very cold day
“bobies” will become clearer as time passes!
LORAINE: Sun., Jan. 18, 1903 A cold wave struck us.We all went to church but Will. Phila and Ralph came home with us, even here for dinner. Elsie here in evening.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Wed., Jan. 19, 1887 went to school and eat my dinner at Uncle June shope worlked on my bobies at noon got two bolts for hind sled went down there
(I wonder if Ella ever saw Ashton’s diaries–his spelling and sentence structure are terrible, and I suspect she would have an opinion about that.)
LORAINE: Mon., Jan. 19, 1903 Cold, bright day. In P.M. R. M. & I went to Center to meeting to see about selling piece of ground to Dr. Reynolds from parsonage lot for building lot.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Thurs., Jan. 20, 1887 went to school all day took my dinner and worlk on my bobies at uncle Junes shop cold day
LORAINE: Tues., Jan. 20, 1903 Went to Burlington with Mrs Bard to see about getting carpet for church Cold windy day- Went at 7 A. M. came back at half past 4
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Fri., Jan. 21, 1887 went to school all day and worked on my bobies at noon got them done and took them home
ELLA: Fri, Jan. 21, 1898 Tie off and finish my comforter. Prayer meeting to-night but the walking is so bad we do not attend. Make bread.
LORAINE: Wed., Jan. 21, 1903 Quite mild. Stormed all day–sometimes snowing and again raining. Traded with the ( two?) peddler(s) got rid of rubbers, rags and hen feathers. Packed meat away.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sat., Jan. 22, 1887 began to get milk a (sic) Haryes made a slidding place in the yard did not work but slide all day bathed me at night and was clean
LORAINE: Thurs., Jan. 22, 1903 Pleasant day Ilda (?) came when R.M. came from creamery- Lizzie went to New Haven in P.M. Louise Booth brought grip home for L to carry I hemmed table cloth.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., Jan. 23, 1887 went to church in AM and PM very warm went to church with my shoes on got the milk
LORAINE: Fri., Jan. 23, 1903 Stormed in forenoon but not so much but Miss Fisher came to her dinner. Karl came in PM. I cleared out bed room Miss Fishers room and had considerable time to read & sew
“Miss Fisher”–I still assume Grace– is a boarder.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Mon., Jan. 24, 1887 went to school all day a big thaw F Pirse was erested father and Bates did it got the milk Pade Payed Store for mittens
Henry Fisher, Ashton’s father, was a sheriff.
ELLA: Mon., Jan. 24, 1898 Henry & Ashton sick all night. Churn. Make doughnuts, gingersnaps, drop cakes, &ct. Ashton goes to Snake Mt. Wash flannels & mend up Henry’s overcoat.
LORAINE: Sat., Jan. 24, 1903 Cold, bright, fine day–In PM- R M went to city. Karl & I went to Philas and stayed while he was gone
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Tues., Jan. 25, 1887 went to school all day. I went to the jale and saw F. Perce. Father took him to Rutland work house got the milk
LORAINE: Sun., Jan. 25, 1903 Air filled with frost all day, not very cold. Very few went to church. Karl went home in P.M.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES
ASHTON: Wed., Jan. 26, 1887 went to school all day F Pirce died in the work house. I went skating on the flats and got a fire to keep from freezing got the milk
ELLA: Wed., Jan 26, 1898 Still storming. Tuttle goes to Washington. Ashton comes home. A barrel of bread flour and a quarter of beef. Commence garters for Grace.
LORAINE: Mon., Jan. 26, 1903 A most perfect winters day. R.M helped me about washing. Will hung out the clothesline. Miss Fisher did not come home to her dinner. Mrs. Callie (?) O Hare lectured at the M.E. church on temperance in the evening. Will, Miss Fisher and I went. Very fine a large number out.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Thurs., Jan. 27, 1887 went to school all day the Yata (this is what it looks like in the diary today–in the memoranda at the end it’s spelled “Yattow”) Boy was shot by the Sandres Boy got the milk and a pint of sugar went to prayer meeting at night
ELLA: Thurs., Jan. 27 Clear & cold. Henry & Ashton go into the lumber woods, do not come home to-night. Finish Grace’s garters. Cut out some for Hattie & Gertrude. Peice (sic) 10 blocks in the evening. Mrs. Young comes in with her work. Mend Hud’s red waist. (Hud is what they call Gertrude.)
LORAINE: Tues., Jan. 27, 1903 Wind strong from the south. Lizzie came home Mrs. Coates brought her. I finished ironing in forenoon. wind kept up all day and evening
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Fri., Jan. 28, 1887 went to school all day went and see the Yata Boy7 went to slidding after school got the milk Father run the mill all day went after him at night got my tablet
LORAINE: Wed., Jan. 28, 1903 Much warmer and trying to rain in morning. Warm all day. Mrs. Fred Tupper here in P.M. In evening Will Lizzie and I went to hear Mr. Brach (?) lecture on temperance but very few out to hear. Miss Fisher went to Mrs. Sears for club meeting sleighing about whipped on our road.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1900 Ella's diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Jan. 29, 1887 got the milk. warm day Mother birth-day. splite wood all day but it rain in A.M. Father runs the mill in AM but does not in PM go sliding in the evening with ruth
LORAINE: Thurs., Jan. 29, 1903 Warm & foggy in morn Carrie Rogers & Lucy Adams here for a visit We had a very pleasant time
And one of the entries that attracted me to the original 1900 diary and started the whole Ella project:
ELLA: Jan 29, 1900 To day I am 47. (It) looks a long way, and I am on the last half of the journey. I want to look forward with pleasure to the home He has prepared to which I am one year nearer. Finish Anna’s dress. Helen gives me 3 cakes of nice soap.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., Jan. 30, 1887 got 2 qt of milk went to the church in AM and PM went down to the creek and took up two traps
ELLA: Sun., Jan. 30 Biting cold. Grace only goes to church. Ashton sick. Henry & I go after dinner to see Mother Fisher. Tuttle comes home on the sleeper this morning.
Tuttle was their boarder.
LORAINE: Fri., Jan. 30, 1903 Warm-snow nearly gone they went to creamery in waggon - Karl came in P.M.-about sick with a cold
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Mon., Jan. 31, 1887 got the milk went to school all day and went skating at night James Rock was tashed (or bashed?) up and had to get out.
ELLA: Mon., Jan. 31, 1898 . . .Henry goes into the lumber woods. Ashton not well enough. Their man Lambert comes to stay to-night.
LORAINE: Sat., Jan 31, 1903 Colder–a flurry of snow in the night. Wind blew furiously all day. Karl about sick with a cold. I knitted a pair of wristers for his blue sweater. Mr. Ripley here in P.M. R.M. went to city.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Tues., Feb. 1, 1887 cold day went to school all day got two qt of milk
ELLA: Tues., Feb. 1, 1898 Storming and blowing. the worst storm I ever remember. Children all stay at home. The man Lambert stays in the shed chamber. Finish Gertrude’s garters, cut out blocks, etc. The windows dark with snow. Henry snow bound at Sears. Tuttle goes downstreet, back to supper.
LORAINE: Sun. Feb. 1, 1903 A very pleasant day quite a large number at church. Karl felt too bad to go. In evening Ralph Lizzie and I went to city to hear Mr. Ballard on temperance question hall pretty well filled.
LORAINE: Mon., Feb. 2, 1903 Quite a fine day Will Keyes baby died We washed as usual in morning
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Thurs., Feb. 3, 1887 went to school did not go to Pray-meeting but stade the at home.
ELLA: Thurs., Feb. 3, 1898 Down with the grip, Grace, Henrietta, Helen & I. Have Dr. Pilon at night. Ashton comes home.
LORAINE: Tues., Feb. 3, 1903 A most lovely day. Voters met to vote on licence or prohibition. Warm as an April day.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Fri., Feb. 4, 1898 Get up & keep fires & wait on the sick all night. Benjamin down & Gertrude & Anna complaining. Put together 7 pies p.m. Henry comes home with a hired man. Dr. comes twice.
LORAINE: Wed, Feb. 4, 1903 Morning warm and rainy Did not rain very long but was cloudy and dark. I went to missionary meeting to Mrs. Bards a large attendance and very enjoyable time I staid until 7 in evening Will Keyes baby buried
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Sat., Feb. 5, 1898 Some of the invalids improving. Hattie & I make doughnuts . . Lambert 9 meals. 10
LORAINE: Thurs., Feb. 5, 1903 Warm in morning snowed some last night Great cold in PM. I spent forenoon baking-cut pieces for quilt in PM. Miss Fisher on Mrs Dartt after school. cold and high wind in evening RM went to city in PM
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., Feb. 6, 1887 went to church went sliding in our yard got 2 qts. of milk
LORAINE: Fri., Feb. 6, 1903 A most beautiful day. Ralph went to Middlebury, came back on flyer Karl comes with him. I worked on quilt in P.M. Miss Fisher came home to dinner
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Tues., Feb. 8, 1887 did not go to school split wood in a.m. and work in mill PM with Henry Miller did not get the milk. (Rained.)
LORAINE: Sun., Feb. 8, 1903 Began snowing about 10 A.M. continued all day–none of us went to church Karl went to Middlebury in PM
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Wed., Feb. 9, 1887 went to school (?) up in the hall went to school sliding after school nother there was a not socible but I went (sic)
ELLA: Wed., Feb. 9, 1898 Take care of the sick. Ashton on the list to-day. Pilon calls. Grace goes to school.
LORAINE: Mon., Feb. 9, 1903 A very nice morning R.M. went to creamery the wind blew so we did not hang the clothes out
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Thurs., Feb. 10, 1887 (warm) went to school all day there was a donation but I did not go Grand-Ma went I went sliding after achool and skating at night
LORAINE: Tues., Feb. 10, 1903 A very lovely day, in PM, R M & I went to center, to Philas and the city in- (sic) I ironed some in forenoon. Lizzie did quite a little in PM but did not finish it
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Fri., Feb. 11, 1887 (snow) went to school did not come home at noon but went without my dinner Father took his Goos law (sic????) to Rutlan (sic)
LORAINE: Wed., Feb. 11, 1903 A pleasant day I spent it at Philas had a very pleasant time Saml Booth there Jared went to Center in PM, R.M. spent it there
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: worked in the Mill all day, got the milk very cold day Father Payed Peter $3.50 and old man Hire $4.25 Played cecters (sic) with Father and Peter
LORAINE: Thurs., Feb. 12, 1903 Warm, snow fast leaving. I called at Ilda’s in PM- In evening I went with Miss Fisher to Mrs. James as the Sunshine club met there Quite a number there. Sleighing about gone
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., Feb. 13, 1887 very cold day. I done all the chorse in the morning got two qt. of Milk. Wwent to church A.M and PM went to sleep in church
LORAINE; Fri., Feb. 13, 1903 Fine in the morning squally some in PM Frank Fuld (?) to Mr Louks buried- Lizzie went to Mr L’s funeral Miss Fisher sick-so she did not go to school Karl did not come home Quite a little colder
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Mon., Feb. 14, 1887 went to school all day very cold there was a woman that was hurt in Burlington
LORAINE: Sat., Feb. 14, 1903 Quite cold–Karl came on the noon train. Ed Garripa here to help Will draw hay from the other place a lovely bright day
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Mon., Feb. 15, 1887 went to school all day some of the Boys are going to Burlington got the milk
Tues., Feb. 16 went to school and had to speeck of up stance most of the Boys go to burlington and I stay at home got milk
ELLA: Tues., Feb. 15, 1898 Hattie & I wash & mop. Go over with Bob & set up Hattie’s stove in one end of the house. Piece on quilt.
Wed., Feb., 16 finish quilt & commence some broom (bags?). Make bread, cake & doughnuts. Anna has a little birthday supper & gets a (muff?) and a pair of new stockings. Hattie irons. Storming hard & drifting.
LORAINE: Sun., Feb. 15, 1903 A pleasant day Karl Lizzie & I went to church but (??) out Mr. Hinman Mr. & Mrs Palmer called
Mon., Feb. 16 Quite a fine day pretty cold north wind. I went to Philas in P.M. Mrs Gibson there sewing for her
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Thurs., Feb. 17, 1887 went to school all day got into a fight with HD. My Teachers went to Burlington and came back at 10 oclock P.M.
LORAINE: Tues., Feb. 17, 1903 Snowed last night–wind blew terribly. We got up in night and got the clothes in stormed and wind blew all the forenoon but was quite fine in P.M. Will & I went to church to see Carrie Cushman married quite a gather at the church Mrs. Avery on the sick list.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Fri., Feb. 18, 1887 I went to Burlington in A.M. and came back in PM I stided down on the bobies the toboggans and the rollis (?) Tobbaggan had a good time
When my grandfather was a young man in Burlington, it was common in winter for people to go sliding down the long downhill streets–like College St.–on toboggans and bobsleds. I assume this is what Ashton is up to, and what “going to Burlington” is all about lately.
LORAINE: Wed., Feb. 18, 1903 Very cold had a letter from Hi (?) Elva Birkett spent the PM here I was all ready to go to city but gave it up
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sat., Feb. 19, 1887 helpe Father in the mill all day very tired at night went to bed at seven oclock came home in the morning from Uncle Bens (got left)
ELLA: Sat., Feb. 19, 1898 Go down to the church in the evening. Bring home things left from the sale. The society clears about $75.00
LORAINE: Thurs., Feb. 19, 1903 Cold, bright day. Will & Jirrie (?) draw hay from the lake only one load Jared here in forenoon I worked on piecing
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., Feb. 20, 1887 helpe Father do the chores in AM did not go to church but stade at home and wrote letters to Burlington to Helen S and Hector G
LORAINE: Fri., Feb. 20 Cold bright day Jerry here He & Will drew a load of hay from the lake in forenoon Ed & Harry; cut ice so they began filling the icehouse in P.M.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Mon., Feb. 21, 1887 went to school and got the milk and got a letter from Burlington did not send my letter Cold day
ELLA: Mon., Feb. 21, 1898 Wash & mop. Put on a quilt. Henry & Ashton go to Snake Mt. Gertrude’s birthday. Get her a hair ribbon & a good comb.
LORAINE: Sat., Feb. 21, 1903 Cold day, bright. School closed Karl & I went up in P.M. Mrs Allen there Mr and Mrs Sears, Mrs Gar(illegible) Exercises very good The men worked at filling ice house
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Tues., Feb. 22, 1887 went to school got the milk Father runs the mill all day went to the Depo after school sent my letter
LORAINE: Sun., Feb. 22, 1903 Wind from the north, pretty cold. Quuite a good attendance at church After dinner, Lizzie and I called at Ma (I think) Averys and Jareds-wind went down – very fine out
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Wed., Feb. 23, 1887 Went to school did not go in the AM but went in the PM the hight (sic) school spoke went to the Depo after school
(I wonder what’s going on at the Depot–maybe the 1887 equivalent of the Mall?)
ELLA: Wed., Feb. 23, 1898 Tie off comforter. Make mince meat. Hattie’s hand begins to swell up & pain her.
LORAINE: Mon., Feb. 23, 1903 Wind blows a gale all the first part of the day–pretty cold. Mr. Garripa did not come to cut ice. Jerry here all day. Henry here with Karl in PM He went home on half past four train
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Thurs., Feb. 24, 1887 Went to school all day and went to meeting in the evening with Ruth and Mother don all the chors
ELLA: Thurs., Feb. 24, 1898 Hattie has a bad hand & I do the housework. Benjamin breaks the dining room window.
LORAINE: Tues., Feb. 24, 1903 A very comfortable day. The men finished filling the ice house in the forenoon–Ralph and Sam Booth went to Frank Fields to appraise stuff belonging to the estate. Literary meeting at Mrs. Birketts. Will and I went down
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES
ASHTON: Fri., Feb. 25, 1887 went to school all day and sent to the soca at Dr. Omans and had a good time Mother Grandmother and Ruth went
(I think he meant “social.”)
ELLA: Fri., Feb. 25, 1898 Storming. Make mince pies in the morning. Sick in the afternoon & do not work. Tuttle puts in the broken window pane.
LORAINE: Wed., Feb. 25, 1903 Cold and bright I went to Mrs Bards in morning had a very pleasant visit RM came for me about 4 PM Fred Harper (?) and wife spent the evening here Will and Jerry drive 2 loads of hay from the lake
(Before people had television, I think they did a great deal more visiting–at least, these people do.)
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sat., Feb. 26, 1887 split wood iin AM and carried Father dinner came home and it snowed and blew in the PM got the milk
ELLA: Sat., Feb. 26, 1898 Still storming. Make bread, cake, doughnuts & cookies. Bathe children. Hang pictures in sitting room & dining room. Henry & Ashton come home wet & tired.
LORAINE: Thurs, Feb. 26 Another lovely day. The men drew two loads of hay from the lake but tipped the second one over on crossroad had to leave it Mary Orvis spent the afternoon here, Helen Rollins here to tea
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., Feb. 27, 1887 got two qts of milk done the chors
(No entries by Ashton till March 10! Stay tuned.)
LORAINE: Fri., Feb 27 Snow nearly gone Fred Tupper hitched his team only they tipped over load and helped the men home with it. Warm bright day. Miss Fisher had the Sunshine club meet at her house–I was invited but too late to go. Karl and Rupert came on mail train.
ELLA: Sun., Feb. 27, 1898 A very poor day, can just crawl around. Not able to write letters.
ELLA: Mon., Feb. 28, 1898 Make me an apron & finish one for Grace. Hattie & Ashton at work on their house. Go after dinner & help them paper. . .
LORAINE: Sat., Feb. 28, 1903 Rained some in the night and all the first pat of the day. Christian Endeavor Convention at Middlebury none of the delegates but Ralph Booth went
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Tues., March 1, 1898 Hattie & Ashton finish their papering & move over their goods. Finish 2 more work aprons. Commence a night dress for Anna. (and in the side margin) Henry trades Nobbin for George Lindsey’s horse & goes to Snake Mt.
LORAINE: Sun., March 1, 1903 Cold north wind Karl coughed so much he did not go to church. Lizzie and I went only a very few out too bad Lizzie went over to Ripleys after dinner
ELLA: Wed., March 2, 1898 Hattie & I wash. Henry buys Ashton a horse at the Harris auction . . .
LORAINE: Mon., March 2, 1903 Wind blows so hard we did not put the clothes out. Snowed very hard for a short time toward night I worked on patch work what time I got Jared here to dinner
LORAINE: Wed., March 4, 1903 Cloudy most of the day– R M & J B went to Mrs Robinsons in forenoon. Jared here to dinner. We went to John Adams to mission meeting in PM
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Sat., March 5, 1898 Paint frames. Make bread & pies. Bathe children. Go down street. Get a rocker at Taylor’s & a pair of new shades for the parlor. Ashton comes home from the Mt.
LORAINE: Thurs., March 5, 1903 Snowed in morning but melted about as fast as it fell. Ruth Stafford came from Mrs Birkitts in forenoon. Some of the church men met Mr Fish ^& Ormsbee in city in regard to Mrs Stones & their offers
LORAINE: Sat., March 7, 1903 Morning delightful but got cloudy soon, remained so rest of the day. RM & I went to city in PM. warm, roads quite muddy Lucy Tappan died last night
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Mon., March 7, 1898 Wash &ct. Ashtom & Mumble (?!–hired man) go to Snake Mt. . .Hattie & I go down street p.m. Get some cloth for Benjamin some blouses. (sic)
LORAINE: Friday, March 6, 1930 (I posted March 7 yesterday, by mistake.) Beautiful day- in P.M Ralph and I went to Fred Tuppers, staid in evening- had a very pleasant time. Jared & Phila, Mr Durant & granddaughter & Mr. Odell there. Ruth went from here on mail train Karl came on flyer
LORAINE: Sun., March 8, 1903 Quite warm. I did not go to church. RM Lizzie and Karl went Rained terribly in PM RM carryed Karl to depot
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Wed., March 9, 1898 Hattie & I go over to the house & clean until noon. After dinner she goes back & I sew on the parlor carpet. We finish the carpet in the evening.
LORAINE: Mon., March 9, 1903 Cloudy in morning but quite fine in PM We attend Mrs Tappans funeral in PM
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: (he’s back!) Thurs., March 10, 1887 The new cow came in the (sic) and had a kalf (got the milk)
ELLA: Thurs. March 10, 1898 Clean the parlor & put up new curtains & put down the new carpet. Hattie puts up a shelf. Ashton & Mumble come home from the Mt.
LORAINE: Tues., March 10, 1903 A most beautiful day in PM I went to Miss Joslins found her much better than I expected Met Mrs LaGrand there
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Fri., March 1,, 1887 got the milk and went to school went to sliding after school
LORAINE: Wed, March 1,, 1903 Rained the greater part of the night but did not rain in morning In PM RM & I went over to Jareds. came back (?)
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sat March 12, 1887 got the last milk and work at home and split wood
LORAINE: Thurs., March 12, 1903 A most lovely bright day. In PM both of the James girls spent the time here. their brother came for them in the evening Mr Bailey brought Mrs Gibson here in the morning
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., March 13, 1887 did not get the milk I was taken sick and did not go to church
ELLA: Sun., March 13, 1898 The children attend church & S. S. Hattie & Ashton go over to the house. Ashton & Young go to the Red Bridge to save the logs on the bank of the Creek. Pleasant.
LORAINE: Fri., March 13, 1903 Quite a fine day Jared & Phila here to dinner. Mrs (?) for apples and lining for (?) waist Will tapped some maple trees out west of the house
ASHTON: Mon. March 14, 1887 I was sick and did not go to school Dr Hop came and saw me Grace is sick
ELLA: Mon., March 14, 1898 Wash. Mop. Bake. Wash apples for market to Ketcham & McCuen. Very tired. Mumble here. Men work all day at the logs. The ice leaves the creek. Bob takes down the apples & goes up to the farm.
LORAINE: Sat. March 14, 1903 A fine day–R M went to city in forenoon took Mrs. G to train for Bristol in P.M. Karl worked in mud fixing his dam down by the road.
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Tues., March 15, 1887 I went stade at home and was sick and Dr Hop came and see me Grace is worse
LORAINE: Sun., March 15, 1903 A most lovely day We boiled sap so I had about a quart of syrup George Ross called in afternoon Lizzie carryed Karl to depot. George went home when they went as he could ride as far as station
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Wed., March 16, 1887 I was sick in am and went to school in PM
ELLA: Wed., March 16 Commence to clean the 3rd floor. Go down street after noon. Get a web of cotton of (sic) McCuen, picture & upholstery cloth of Ketcham. . .Wed. club meet at Mrs. Hindes.
LORAINE: Mon., March 16, 1903 Not very cold. Lizzie went up to church to help get ready for papering Mrs Gibson came from Bristol. I went to city with RM when he went for her. Wind strong from the south
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Thurs., March 17, 1887 went to school in AM. and stade at home in PM Father is mad. (and in pencil) Father is mad.
ELLA: Thurs., March 17 Finish the 3rd floor. . . Henry & Ashton work on the booms. Mr. Young gives me a writing shelf for my chair.
LORAINE: Thurs., March 17, 1903 Rained a good share of the day We ironed Mrs. G began my blk waist lemon sherbet for dinner
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Fri., March 18, 1887 did not go to school but split wood in the wood shed with Granpa Father is mad
ELLA: Fri., March 18, 1898 Upholster a rocking chair. . . Men work on the booms. Make bread.
LORAINE: Wed., March 18, 1903 Warm & fine. I made orange pudding for dinner
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sat. March 19, 1887 went to Granmother Fisher in A.M. and went down with mother and hired out to Mr. Ketcham
LORAINE: Thurs., March 19, 1903 Wind strong from the south. Lizzie went to Burlington to see about getting her coat repaired got back on flyer Elsie came for wringer and curtain stretcher
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sun., March 20, 1887 went to church got ready to go to work in the morning Uncle Ben and Aunt Debbie comes here and has dinner
ELLA: Sat., March 20 . . .Ashton & Hattie go to their house & stay the first night by themselves.
LORAINE: Fri., March 20, 1903 A very lovely day RM went to city in P.M to attend to business on Frank Fields estate Karl came walked from depot. wind south warm as summer. John Riply here to see about having chimney fixed
ASHTON: Mon., March 21, 1887 began to work for Ketcham took my dinner and went up town at noon Your (?) A.H.F.
LORAINE: Sat., March 21, 1903 Fine day but a little cooler, wind north Mrs Gibson finished sewing for me Karl and RM went to city in PM brought home (?)
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Tues., March 22, 1887 the shop did not work but went to town meeting Father was first in Counstable did not work
LORAINE: Sun., March 22, 1903 Quite a fine day RM Mrs Gibson & I went to church but only a few out Lizzie went to Mr Averys after dinner
ASHTON: Wed., March 23, 1887 went down to the shop and Ketcham did not have work for me so I did not work. I help Father in P.M. very tired at night. Lots of snow
LORAINE: Mon., March 23, 1903 Rained a good share of the night–rained hard for most of the day Mrs Gibson sick RM went for Dr in morning and he came again in PM did not put the clothes out because of storm
ASHTON: Thurs., 1887 sold my kalf skin for 50 did not have any work at the shop. but split wood at home Father got sun-blind and was very sick
ELLA: Thurs., 1898 Benjamin & I go down street. Get his hair cut & some shoes. Anna stays with Hattie.
LORAINE: Tues., 1903 Mr Gibson came on half past 11 train. Mrs G some better. Clothes dried so some of ironing done in PM. I cleared a place in pantry for sugar barrel
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Wed., 1887 went down to the shop and Ketcham did not have work for me so I did not work I help Father in P.M. very tired at night. Lots of snow
ELLA: Fri., 1898 Ashton suffered all night with a pain in his leg. Hattie goes for Ruth at the noon train.
LORAINE: Wed., 1903 Quite a fine day I spent it at center helping to clean church a very goodly number out Mr G went back to Bristol. Mrs G much better Worked some on Lizzies dress. Mrs. Robinson returned from New York
Filed under: 1887 Ashton's Diary, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ASHTON: Sat., 1887 lost my Diary (No more of Ashton till May 7, alas)
LORAINE: Thurs., 1903 A most lovely day Mrs Gibson went to Mrs Robinsons. Mollie came for her. Pd Mrs $5.00 for work
ELLA: Sun., 1898 A very nice day. Attend church with the children. Helen sings in thechoir. Ashton having a hard time with his leg.
LORAINE: Fri., 1903 Cloudy all day. Eva came home. Karl & Rupert came on noon train
LORAINE: Sat., 1903 Cloudy, snowed considerable, but melted about as fast as it fell RM went to city in PM
LORAINE: Sunday Beautiful, bright day Lizzie Karl and Rupert went to church. Eldie (?) came up towards night: frozen quite hard last night I wrote Li (?) in evening
Filed under: Introduction
No diary posts today, but yesterday a friend came by to pick up the Satterly diary for the Ferrisburgh Historical Society. She’ll read it first herself, and share it with her husband–between them, they know a great deal of local history. The barn on their old farm, for instance, was designed by Karl Field–little Karl in Loraine’s diary–Karl who also grew up to marry Henrietta Fisher. I also know where the Fishers’ camp used to be, and hope to go soon and take some photos.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Fri., April 1, 1898 Ashton goes to Burlington hospital. Hattie stays with us.
LORAINE: Wed., April 1, 1903 Quite a pleasant day. In forenoon I finished cleaning pantry. In P.M. cleaned store room and Will’s room had storm windows taken off and cleaned.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
LORAINE: Thurs., Apr. 2, 1903 Strong south wind not very cold. We finished cleaning back chambers R M & Karl went to ride in PM I did some baking in forenoon.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
LORAINE: Sat. Apr. 4, 1903 Coldest day for more than a month. Snowed some nearly all day. I spent nearly all the forenoon baking In PM finished my mending.
Filed under: Clippings
Since there are no diary entries today, here’s a piece that Ella wrote. I found it written by hand on a piece of paper tucked into the scrapbook she kept that is now on its way to the Ferrisburgh Historical Society. This might have been for the D.A.R., since she was quite active in that group.
Dr. Ingham’s Church
This program would hardly be complete without mention of Dr. Ingham’s church. He was an active member of the Baptist church. He gave a Bible to any member of the Sunday School who would learn and recite its books. He believed in the Bible and in human nature and that Baptism was a saving ordinance. He became so active that it caused friction and he withdrew from the church. He gained a number of followers and built the square house at the corner of East and School streets to hold meetings in. When I attended the B. B. Allen school, walking two miles night and morning, the weather grew severe and the roads impassable. I must give up school or find a place to board and I went to the doctor with an appeal to put up pain-killers for my board. He readily took me in and during the term I was called upon only two evenings to work.
The doctor was alway (sic) cheerful, and pleasant and courteous to all within his home. He held meetings in several school houses about this section.
When I was a country school teacher on the princely salary of $2.25 a week and board around, collected at the end of a four months term and some red tape, the oldest inhabitant bent over me to say, “Money, money. What do you want with money? All you do with it, is to buy ribbens (sic) and laces.” (Girls wore more than these in those days) Pardon this digression.
The doctor When the meetings were held in my school on Sunday afternoon, I was his Sunday School teacher and also assisted him with the mid-week prayer service and I bear him record, that he did much good.
He built what is now the Woodman homestead and on January 1, 1880 organized a church with thirty-two members and called it the “Gospel Church of Waltham.” The Baptismal pool may be seen just north of the house but was never used for that purpose.
It was due to the kindness and generosity of Dr. Ingham that the Baptist Church was reopened in 1883 after being closed for three years. He returned to the church with part of his followers and gave the rent of a house for the pastor to live in. His words of courage and cheer put new life into the church and it was able to carry on.
He was called up higher in August 1885 and the Gospel Church of Waltham was merged with the Baptist Church of Vergennes.
Ella W. Fisher, Historian
No diary entries until the 11th, so here’s a letter written in April, 1865. It was written to Henry Fisher by his (and Ella’s) old schoolteacher, B. B. Allen. The letter was tucked into some things given me by the widow of Ella’s grandson, and has been donated to the research center at the Henry Sheldon Museum. Henry was a Civil War veteran, but from the entry in the roster, I think he didn’t see action, but was in the Reserve.
Vergennes April 10th 1865
My Dear Henry
Your last kind and interesting letter is received I need not stop to inform you that I ws glad to hear that your health is improving I hope you will soon otain a discharge and come home. We shall be glad to see you once more I assure you.
If Capt Drew is not a rascal, and I have good reasons to think he is, he has certainly acted a very unoffically and mean part in your case I am sorry, that the boys did not persevere and send an account of his acts to the Sec of War. I think he would have been Court Marsheled and discharged from service An officer, who will take (acloanly?) of the necessities of his men, is not worthy the name of an officer and should be dischared at once by the Government. Do not let him obtain any advantage over you. Do not tell him your Bountyland, or your Monthly wages to him for anything below par
It would seem from our recent brilliant and glorious victories, that the war must soon close. I hope and devoutly pray, that Grant Sherman and little Phil, as his boys call him, will pursue and continue to pursue till Lee and his army are annihilated The South give up, and the sooner they do it, the better it will be for them I am sorry that Benjc has had to leave school He had been a good boy and has been a good scholar. I shall miss him I saw your father at the City last Saturday, he said the folks were all well
My school is quite smal, most of the boys from abroad are leaving to go to (soark?). I have only one more quarter before I shall have my lonog annual vacation, when I hope you will be at home to take a round at fishing My health is so poor however that I sometimes think my fishing done; but I hope as Spring advances I shall improve The boys all wish to be remembered to you. Write as often as you can
Your affec friend and teacher
B. B. Allen
note: The punctuation is his–and the lack of it.
Filed under: Clippings
This is a clipping Ella Fisher cut out of a paper and pasted in a scrapbook. The children are Ashton’s daughters:
N.E. ENTERTAINMENT
The entertainment given by the Junior Christian Endeavor Society of the New England Congregational church in the church parlors last evening was a decided success in every way. . .
The program was as follows:
Piano solo, Lou Fisher. . .
Play–”Baldzar’s Christmas Doll.”
Scene–On (sic) Orphanage in Turkey,
Cast of Characters: . . .
. . . Outcasts, Lou Fisher. . .
Play, “America, Sweet Land of Liberty.”
Characters:
Little Immigrants–Polish girl, Pearl Fisher. . . Americans–Lou Fisher. . .
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
LORAINE: Sat., Apr. 11, 1903 A bright lovely day–cold north wind in PM. RM & I went to the funeral of Mrs. Wicker-her body brought on noon train. Eclipse of moon visible here
LORAINE: Sun. Apr 12, 1903 Cold-severe white frost-bright and sunny fit emblem of Easter morn Karl Lizzie and I went to church Met in audiance room quite a number out The day very fine Karl went home in PM Lizzie out calling on neighbors
It’s so interesting to me that she hardly ever uses punctuation.
No diary entries today, but here (again) in honor of National Poetry Month is a poem that Ella wrote. It was published in Green Mountain Echoes in 1927.
I’D RATHER BE A POETI’d rather be a poet And write some lilting thing; Chant some bit of heartening song That some one else may sing; I’d rather be a poet And plant the seeds of truth To bloom along the roadway Where walk the feet of youth. I love a quiet corner . . . For crowds I do not care . . . I’d rather be a poet Than to be a millionaire.
LORAINE: Tues Apr 14, 1903 A lovely day-We ironed in forenoon. I made gingersnaps & cleaned cupboard in south room in PM- road was scraped in PM garden plowed
LORAINE: Wed. Apr. 15, 1903 Not a bright day–yet did not storm. RM sick when he came back from creamery Mr Vittum here and tuned the piano Lizzie took old screens from frames and cleaned them. I cleared out wardrobe dresser trunk and commodes in south room
There are no posts from Ashton, Ella or Loraine for a few days, so here are some from Henry’s diary. This is the year he married Ella. He calls her “Nell.” His handwriting is fairly awful, so there are lots of words I couldn’t decipher. His mode of expression reminds me a great deal of Ashton’s!
Sat., Jan. 1, 1870 To a party to A Roses Ann F there. played fool with her (I commence this year Strictly and truly to fulfil our Promise forever Henry)
Fri., Jan. 7 Went down to Hunts to a Party Carried Annie Foster just to fool her Henry
Sun., Jan. 9 Saw Nell this eve had a good time She truly Promises me Henry
Wed, Jan. 12 went to a ball to North Ferrisburgh
Sun., Jan. 19 Commenced killing (hog?) went to a Party to Burroughs caried Nell Warner had a very good time
Sun., Jan. 23 went to meeting down to School House in the (?) Played cards in School till 11 A.M. even $5.00
Tues., Jan. 25 Mother & I went out to N Warners in even Nell writes this in my diary If these four lines accepted be/See (?) them up and think of me/If these four lines you do regret/Burn them up and me forget
Wed., Jan. 26 Got a letter from Nell.
Fri., Jan. 28 Stayed with June all night (Note–I think June is is brother. Ashton spends time with “Uncle June.”)
Sat. Jan. 29 Caried Emma (?) home in the eve
Sun., Jan. 30 Ed McKenair to my Housee Father & he went to (?) I went out & see Nell had a good time
Mon., Jan. 31 Stayed with (?) all night.
FEBRUARY:
Down the side of the page for Feb. 3-5, he wrote the following mysterious entry (though later he’s very clear that he plays in a band, so this might be band stuff. Does anyone know?):
commencing Feb. 15, 1871
41 du du du du du
41 – 6 – 6 6 – 6
4 1 /2 6 da – 5 – 4 1 /2 da
4 1 /2 5 – du 3 da – 3 da – 5 1/2 du
2 du 2 du 6 du 5 du 6
5
and along the side of the page is a list of numbers added up
Sun., Feb. 6 did not go to church to day June came home I went to church in evening came home with John Foster
Fri., 11 Father & I went to the city I went up and stayed all night to (?)
Sat. 12 I came to Vergennes Elisher Suchman came up home with me & stayed all night H
Sun. 13 Eisher Stayed to our House all day
Mon. 14 went to the city with Father & commenced work for S. M. Southurd (this name is spelled a little differently now and then and I can’t quite decipher it)
Sun. 20 went up Home Stayed all day went out to see Nell had a good time
Sun. 27 went up Home Stayed all night
The spelling and punctuation–or lack of it–is his.
March, 1870
Wed., 2 Thought of Nell to day all day. O how I wish I could see her
Sun. 6 Stayed to the city all day I saw Nell at her Home stayed untill half past 3 in morning
Sun., 13 Went up home to day Henry
Wed., 16 Went down to Weybridge to play to a good templing (?) exebition
Thurs., 17 came from Weybridge in the morning Henry
Sun., 20 Stayed in the citty
Wed., 23 He that is ashamed of me of him will I be ashamed of him (sic) before my Father.
Thurs., 31 Adress Miss Nellie Handen (?) North Hampton Vt
ELLA: Wed., Apr. 20 Hattie comes up and helps me in the a.m. We clean Ruth’s room. Sell rags to a peddler, & a young man comes for a lodging bandaged up from a fight. Go down street p.m. Hattie & I.
Filed under: Introduction
. . . is for sale. Anyone want to buy if for me?
LORAINE: Tues., Apr 21, 1903 White frost last night pleasant in morning but cloudy most of the day. Elsie up towards night I cleaned bureaus in north chambers in PM
LORAINE: Wed., Apr 22 A warm lovely day Lizzie painted porch frames in forenoon I cleaned closets and dressers up stairs Lizzie went to center after supper
LORAINE: Thurs., Apr 23 A beautiful day We took up carpet in south chamber stairs carpet &tc got chamber carpet down
Spring Cleaning was really serious before vacuum cleaners.
Sat., 9 Mr Southwell (?) went to NH (I assume New Haven, Vermont–but maybe North Hampton–see March entries) on the 10 o clock train
Sun., 10 Stayed in the city to day. Nell did not look very well to day H
Sun., 17 Fast day to day I went out to se Nell Able Peck brought her & her Mother home I had a good time
Tues., 19 Mail train 2 hours late
Sun., 24 went out to see Nell in the morning I never shall forget the Serving Girl She loves me and I her. Henry (I assume this is a reference to a song or a poem, but I can’t find it. Does anyone know it?)
Mon., 25 (unreadable) to day Fred eve the store got tight (very bad handwriting!)
Sat., 30 Stayed with June all night
Sun., 1 went Home in the morning went to Mrs Hosin (?) Funeral & went out and saw Nell had a splendid time
Wed., 4 Nell came to store today I gave her a string of neck beads
Thurs., 5 Minnie Allen & to Annie Foster came to store.
Sat., 7 Nellie & Mrs. W came in the store to day
Sun., 8 went to Meeting to day I went out and see Nell in the woods (?) to the house
Wed. 11 Mother went to Worcester this morning
Sat. 14 5 Months to day worked for S.M. Souttaull (I can’t for the life of me make out the name–and it looks as if Henry spells it differently every time he writes it.)
LORAINE: Thurs., May 14 Cool north wind Lizzie went to Burlington to have eyes fitted for glasses. I called at (?) to Mrs. Harris had a very pleasant afternoon I came back on 4:30 train
Mon., 16 Nellie commenced school to day Mr Soutturell sold (?)
(Henry was 22 and Ella–”Nell”– 17 when they married in 1870.)
Tues., 17 Mother & Martha came from Worcester
Sun., 22 Stayed with June all night. went up Home in morning I went out to see Nell in the eve How I love her. Henry
Mon. 23 Ella called in the store (Why “Ella” suddenly?)
Sat., 28 went to Bristol to play in store Band Gro Fosters Stayed in store
Sun., 29 went to church to day all day
Mon., 30 went to Middlebury to day Played with the Band Fish & Peck Sleyrel (?) in store
Sun., 5 Mr. Burnham Preached to day for the first time. H
Mon., 6 went to church in the eve
Tues., 7 went to church in the eve
Wed., 8 went to church in the eve Talked with N’s class felt Bad
Fri., 10 Nell went out home with Gro Bristol in the eve after meeting. I did not come H. Fisher
Sat., 11 Worked hard to day (O of all my sins)
Tues., 16 Foster stayed with me all night
Fri., 17 Payed draft to day of $500.00
Sun., 19 I was Baptised to day by Dr. Bruman Mother & Mattie came down
Wed., 22 Went to meeting down to Cong Church in the eve
Fri., 24 went to Burlington Had a good time Played in Band
LORAINE: Thurs., Apr 30 Cooler I put stair carpet down and cleaned closet off the north chamber straightened that room out too cold for comfort
LORAINE: Fri., May 1 Quite a severe frost last night-I ironed and put up the curtains in the chambers in forenoon. about used up in PM though I made curtain for Lizzie’s room & bag for her fur coat
LORAINE: Sat., May 2 Cold-hard frost last night I did some baking in forenoon, in PM Lizzie and I went to city Will Fred Tupper and Karl drove young cattle to pasture
Sat., 25 Went Home today
Sun., 26 at Home to day Saw Nell in the eve we had a good time if you want to know ask me $15.00 H
Mon., 27 (?) Souttaull came from Rutland to day
Tues., 28 (?) Soultall went down the creek got high a little I went and picked a rose & hid (?) on said (?) How is it
Henry’s handwriting is terrible sometimes.
LORAINE: Wed., May 6 A lovely bright day Missions meeting here in PM 20 here to tea-had a very pleasant time Jared and Phila not here Hazel Reynolds staid overnight
LORAINE: Thurs., May 7 Bright and warm Hazel went home when RM went to creamery I went to Mrs. Birketts in forenoon staid to dinner very warm In PM I braided a ball of shoe strings
MOTHER
We can have but one mother.
Her love is like a halo,
All our days it follows us.
Her prayers weave about us
Threads of gossamer stronger than steel.
They protect us in illness
And shield us from danger,
While we, unconscious of their existence,
Forge through life and never understand.
Ministration, anxiety and pain
Take their toll from Mother’s life,
There comes a time when her steps falter,
Her loving hands drop their tasks,
She yields to peace and rest and stillness
And Mother passes out of our lives.
Memory waits to give us comfort,
In the folds of her somber robes
Are garlands of beautiful flowers,
She extends to us love and service
That we pass it on.
Her soft whisper is a reminder
That through the storms of life
A mother has woven for us
Threads of gossamer stronger than steel.
From “Green Mountain Echoes.” Dreadful.
LORAINE: Sat., May 16 Hot & dry as ever. Karl spent the day fixing his flower bed In PM went to the woods and got some more roots to add to his bed
And little Karl ended up being a farmer, married to Henrietta Fisher. May 17-June 1 pages were torn out of the Satterly diary.
Have you
Seen your life plans
In which you had delight,
The structure you were rearing
Crumble in your sight?
Have you watched it totter
Day on weary day,
Until its marred proportions
Merged their beauty in decay?
Has it made you somber,
Your courage fainter grow,
Your feet to grope and stumble
Along your chosen way?
Have you
Seen the ivy grow
Over a ruin bald and grey?
Its green leaves caught the sunlight;
Each defect was covered;
Your eyes were satisfied;
Into your soul
Contentment stole.
About your ruin
Plant the ivy.
Each recurring day its rootlets nourish;
In patience wait,
Your plant will flourish.
Your crumbling structure will become
A tracery of beauty;
Its shining leaves
Will glimmer in the sun;
Rain and dew thereon will glisten;
The little breezes of night
Thru its foliage will whisper
Of love and gratitude;
Into your soul,
Attuned to listen,
You will feel
Contentment steal.
ELLA: Thurs., May 19 Henry & Ashton have a few words.
Remember “Father is mad” in Ashton’s diary?
Tues., 9 went to circus with M Darling had a good time She expects me help them (?) to day (?)
Sun., 14 went from Home to Nells in eve b.t. to (???) me out to woods & had a good time
Tues., 16 out to Nellie’s in eve Mrs D from Bristol there (?) Able Peck. I milked for her next morning.
Wed., 17 Came from Nells this morning. had a offle time last night Henry
ELLA: Fri., May 20 Carrie & I drive up to New Cemetery. Take Ashton’s Dolly.
Ella had a sister named Carrie.
Fri., July 1 went out and seen Mrs. Warner in evening had a long tuck (sic) with her about one thing and anohter
Sat., July 2 Gro Foster Stayed in Store a little to day H
Sun., July 3 went to church to day Went out to Nells in eve Stayed all night had a good time
Mon., July 4 at Nells in morn Came home went over to (?) to work commenced work at Noon
Wed., July 6 got my colt out of Wands lot to work
Fri., July 15 Finished Haying for (?) to day
Sat., July 16 went down and got Nell caried her home Stayed all night She said I should not Stay
Sun, July 17 Caried Nell to concert in the eve. Caried her down to (?) She made me feel offle bad but ask to be firgiven. Henry
LORAINE: Fri., June 5 The same old dry smoky. I went for Hi & Roxa (?) on PM flyer but they did not come they came later on 9 PM train Ralph Booth here in evening Karl went home with him staid over night.
ELLA: Sat., May 21 Ashton takes a party to Westford. Henry buys a span of horses of Mrs. C W Read.
ELLA: Sat., June 11 Abe comes with Henry at noon. Takes Ralp (sic) home with him. Ashton moves into the Everest house Main St.
I’d love to know why Ashton moved into the Everest house. Remember that he and Hattie just moved into their own house awhile ago.
Mon., July 18 Commenced Work for WA 10 a.m.
Thurs., July 21 Caried Mrs. Warner a Pail of curants in the eve
Sat., July 23 Mother & I went from city out to see Nell’s folks afternoon took supper H
Sun., July 24 Brought Nell home from church with Matt (?) Caried Nell down to Grenniers (?) to her school
Mon., July 25 Father & I went to Bristol & got waggon fixed
ELLA: Sat., June 18 Cook. Mend. Bathe children. Harness a horse & get ready to go to Bristol. Rains & do not go. Set out tomato plants.
Mon., 1 Stayed with Mrs. Warner all night
Tues., 2 went out and Stayed all night will Nell mother
Fri., 5 Nellie’s School out to day her mother went after her I am very glad she is very tired and Kneeds rest
Sun., 7 went out to see Nell in the eve She promised to be mine to night forever I hold the promise a true one and always Shall ?????
The spellings and lack of punctuation are Henry’s. Question marks indicate illegible writing. As always, I’m grateful to the Stewart-Swift Research Center at the Henry Sheldon Museum in Middlebury, Vermont, for permission to blog these diary entries.
LORAINE: Wed., June 3 The air filled with smoke Will Porters house took fire but having water handy by it was put out-though greatly damaged. Missionary meeting at Phila’s a goodly attendance and a very pleasant time.
ELLA: Sat., May 28 Bake. Bathe children mend &tc. Carrie & I go over to Ashton’s. Find Henry up street. Chicken hatch in incubater. Set 11 ducks eggs.
ELLA: Sun., May 29 Carrie & I with 4 children attend church, stay to S. S. Huddie goes up to Waltham to S. S. after dinner. Rain. Grace keeps house and gets dinner.
Sun., Aug. 21 Went down to Durant with Nell Carried her from church and home 9 P.M. Mrs. and Mr. W was at our house in eve. Henry
Tues., Aug. 23 Thought of Nell to day all day O my Precious one when may we meet to part no more.
Sat., Aug. 27 Saw Nell out to city in afternoon
Sun., Aug. 28 went and saw Nellie. She seems to think more and more of me.
LORAINE: Thurs., June 4 Cold & dry-fires raging all about us Tis terrible Unless the Lord in mercy send us rain soon our condition seems deplorable. I quilted what I could–my aid is of very little account–about helping
LORAINE: Sat., June 6 No change in weather smoke perfectly dreadful. Roxey & I finished the quilt Ruth came in PM hot in afternoon.
Thurs., 1 went up home and got my jorse and carried Nellie over to Uncle (Saxtons?) a visiting
Fri., 2 went down the creek today took Nell all righty. One year to day I promised (can’t read it, darn it!). . .
Sat., 3 Thought of Nell lots to day She is My Darling
Sun., 4 Rained in the eve.
LORAINE: Fri, June 12 Rained powerfully when Frank to (sic) us to station train half hour late arrived in Keesville a little after I had a very pleasant visit. . . .
LORAINE: Sat., June 13 Left Keesville at 7 sharp for Port Kent arrived in Burlington a quarter past 8-got home a little after found everything in surprising order Karl at church rehearsing for childrens day – showery
LORAINE: Mon, June 22 A very pleasant day. . . Clothes dried finely I did considerable of the ironing while supper was being got
Mon., 5th Florence S in store today fooled her Also W & Nell in store in even and went up home with them (?) and out home with them
Tues., 6th Saranaded (sic) Maxfield had supper to Franklin House Henry
Sun., 11th went to Meeting to day saw Nell in evening, Gave her something to go to B. She was quite sick (sorry am I) H
Tues. 13th down to creek to day with Mother (??) had a Splendid time.
Sat. 17th Sent Nell a letter by (?)
Tues., 20th went out and stayed with Nell all night. She is good.
Sat., 24th went out to Nellie’s stayed all night her father carried (?) Mr. & Mrs. (Dunsher???) (?) had a offle good time up all night
Sun., 25th stayed out to Nells all night last night stayed to day until 5 a.m.
Mon., 26th Came from home this morning. went out to store in eve Brought my knife and handkerchiefs
Filed under: 1898 Ella, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum | Tags: Vergennes Opera House
ELLA: Thurs. June 16 School closes to-day. Mother, Helen, Grace & I attend graduating exercises at Opera House in the evening. Grace has a part in the exercises. Emma (Loup?) calls with Lena Hawkins. Tuttle goes home.
Tues., 27th Saw Nell pass the store to day. Fooled Annie Foster I’m Sure.
Wed., 28th (unreadable) I went out to Nellie’s in eve. (and if very small writing) O that my whole life was at stake I will never tell no names. (and in normal size) Came to store at 11 a. m. Oh my Darling!
Thurs., 29th (???) with his girll. (sic)
Fri., 30th Very quiet to day. (My trusty one.)
ELLA: Tues., July 19 Stimpson comes back for Carrie. Not well enough to sit for long. Here (sic) from Grace. (wobbly handwriting)
ELLA: Mon., June 20 Wash. Children go berrying. Two shortcakes for tea.
WILD strawberries–enough for 2 shortcakes. LOTS of work.
LORAINE: Sun., June 21 Rained all last night and nearly all day Lizzie Karl and I went to church 23 there Elmer Satterly & wife and child called here before we got home.
Lizzie is a servant and Karl is the grandson who married Ella’s daughter Henrietta. I don’t know about Elmer.
LORAINE: Tues., June 23 Pleasant all day They began working on the road past here In PM I helped Karl about trimming raspberry bushes south of the house. . .
LORAINE: Wed., June 24 Rained considerable last night- but not much through the day. I began making Karls waist. In evening I went to city to a show with Will & Lizzie and a pretty poor affair it was. . .
LORAINE: Thurs., July 9 Very hot-put on quilt in forenoon-quilted some in PM . Will cultivated corn in forenoon- but so hot he gave it up in PM.
LORAINE: Fri., June 26 Pleasant most of the day occasionally a shower A peddler here in the forenoon. I got rid of rags and rubberts. In PM RM & I went to city forgot most of the things I went for finished Karls waist
LORAINE: Sat., June 27 A pleasant day. I put some new sleeves in Karls old waist. fixed a shirt for RM Lizzie and Will went to city in evening she got a new hat
ELLA: Wed., July 6 Carrie & Hattie come up & Ruth & I go up on Preston’s land berrying. Am sick. I make pies.
Sat., Oct 1 very quiet to day I went home at 8 p m, took horse & Buggie went to Bristol in eve with Nell got there 8 P.M.
Sun., Oct 2 In Bristol to day had a good time Beloved Nell my own darling. Came home in the eve. Stayed to Hells all night
Mon., Oct 3 Went home early in morning and went to store got there at 8 a.m.
Tues., Oct 4 Quite cool this morning.
Wed., Oct 5 Rainy to day Sent Nell a letter by her Father.
Filed under: Clippings
THE CITY NEWS
An attractive wedding was solemnized Monday evening, June 30, at the home of Mrs. Henry P. Fisher of Vergennes, when her youngest daughter, Anna Roberts Fisher, was married to Alvin Robert Metcalfe of Springfield, Mass. The ceremony was performed by Dr. Vernon C. Harrington, professor of English and public speaking of Middlebury College. A buffet dinner was served at 6:30 to about 30 relatives and intimate friends of the family, after which the nuptial service took place under an arch of maiden hair fern mounted on a pedestal of arbor vitae and daisies. the bridal party entered the library to the strains of the wedding march from Lohengrin, played by Miss Grace P. Fisher, a sister of the bride. Mrs. Karl Field, who also is a sister of the bride, and Miss Ruth Greeley of Rochester preceded the bride, who entered upon the arm of her brother, Benjamin Warner Fisher. Mr. Metcalfe and Arthur B. Richards of Worcester, Mass, joined the group at the center of the room. The single ring service was used. The bride’s gown was of white crepe meteor and she carried a shower bouquet of white roses and sweet peas. The veil was attached to a point lace cap. The matron of honor and the bridesmaid’s dresses were of white and they carried bouquets of pink sweet peas. The entire house was decorated with ferns and roses. Miss Fisher was a graduate of Vergennes high school of the class of 1911 andof (sic) Middlebury College in 1916. For two years she was a member of the faculty of the high school of West Rutland, teaching English as her principal subject. Mr. Metcalfe is is the son of William S. and Susie J. Metcalfe of Detroit, Mich. He was graduated from Worcester English high and attended Middlebury College, being identified with the class of 1916. At present he is assistant to the publicity manager of the Fisk Rubber company of Springfield, Mass. During the war he enlisted in the aviation corps and received the commission of lieutenant. Mr. Richards, who is of Worcester, Mass., was the boyhood chum of Mr. Metcalfe, and is at present a government accountant and is stationed at Buffalo, N.Y. He became a sergeant during the recent conflict. Miss Greeley was a classmate of Miss Fisher at Middlebury and is at present an instructor at Birgham Academy at Bakersfield. The guests from out of town who attended the wedding were Miss Rachael A. Metcalfe of Lewiston, Me., Mrs. A. B. Simonds, Harold Simonds and Mrs. Z. G. Warner of Burlington, Mrs. Charles Telford Fairfield of Rutland and Mrs. L.C. Howe and daughter, Miss Clarissa, of St. Johnsbury.
LORAINE: Wed., July 8 Terribly hot. Karl came on mail train rode horse to cultivate corn in PM did some mending in PM I put up 8 quarts currants
LORAINE: Wed., July 1 Very hot sultry day Rained a lot last night. I went to city in PM- got netting for cherry tree-birds take everything
ELLA: Mon., July 18 Am suddenly sick, prostrated with cholera morbus. Carrie & Stimpson come. Carrie stays & Stimpson goes with Gertrude & Helena to camp toward night. Raining hard, blessed, beautiful rain. Very hot.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, Clippings, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Mon., July 4 The last vessel of Cevra’s (actually Cervera) fleet destroyed in Santiago Bay. The American people celebrate with great enthusiasm. Carlton Rifles from (Ottawa?) visit Burlington. Helen, Grace & I go up to the Hospital & call on Mrs. Daniels.
LORAINE: Sat., July 4 A most beautiful day- I did Saturday work mopping, baking weeded a bed in garden in evening went to Mrs. Birketts to fireworks. had a very pleasant time
And a clipping from a scrapbook kept by Ella, undated:
In the evening the park, beautifully illuminated with electric lights and colored fire, became the scene of boisterous frolic and revelry. Hundreds of masked figures in costumes of every description made merry with ticklers and confetti and it is safe to say that a more festive scene never enlivened the streets of any city in Vermont. Especially fine was the fancy parade led by Harry Taber, in an elaborate jester’s costume, representing “The Sprit of the Carnival.” A group of girls typifying the thirteen original colonies was particularly pretty, but perhaps the most striking feature was a long line of appropriately costumed young ladies in which Miss Catherine Fish, as the Goddess of LIberty, led the “Nations of the World.”
After the ardor of the revelers had abated somewhat the band led the way to the Opera House, where an entertainment consisting of pageants and fancy drills was presented. . . . . . Two beautiful Indian pageants, portraying primitive life and the arrival of the first white ma, were followed by a scene showing incidents in the life of Donald MacIntosh, the first settler in Vergennes. Through the courtesy of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. of Boston, and by the talent of Mrs. Ella Fisher, a sketch entitled “The Bones of the Iroquois’ was presented in connection with this pageant. The sketch was a dramatization of an incident which occurs in one of Rowland Robinsons’ works. . . .
A living flag composed of 70 children formed a climax which closed the program. This was probably the most elaborate spectacle ever attempted by local talent and was given a reception which showed the whole appreciation of the audience.
The masquerade ball brought out a large number of fancy costumes, many of which were strikingly beautiful. Prizes for costumes were awarded as follows: Handsomest, Mrs. R. W. McCuen, Italian noblewoman, red silk trimmed with spangles; most original, Miss Blanche Hoffnagle, cigar girl, black satin trimmed with cigars and cigar bands; funniest, Wallace C. Foote, female grotesque.
It ws the unanimous opinion that the celebration was the most successful ever held in Vergennes and all had a word of praise for the committee which had charge of the arrangements. Every precaution was taken to insure the safety of the spectators and the day passed without an accident to mar the pleasure of the occasion. Lawlessness and rowdyism, generally considered necessary evils on the Fourth, were noticeably absent and no complaint of any kind was heard.
ELLA: Tues., July 5 Grace and I go to the hospital. She has 1 eye operated on. Abe’s family & Petersons go to Camp. Dr. Clark drives me to the station. Henry meets me at Vergennes.
LORAINE: Tues., July 14 We ironed in forenoon Lizzie went to see Dr. Willard in P.M. I picked berrys and currants for tea when it rained quite smart. John Ripley hurt quite badly on hand car
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Sat., July 16 Cleaning out process goes on nearly to completion. Henry comes home.
LORAINE: Thurs., July 16 Quite a fine day cool. I canned the peas, did some baking &c &c quilted in PM Lizzie picked berrys though not many
LORAINE: Sun., July 12 Cloudy all day Will went to see his mother and sister. No service at the congo church-Mr. Bailey away. I snoozed the greater part of the forenoon Lizzie off the hooks and went to see Dr. Phelps toward night
off the hooks?
ELLA: Wed., July 13 Hattie & I drive to Camp. We all go berrying. Carrie comes home with us.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Fri., July 15 Carrie & Helen go to Camp by steamboat & back. Ruth goes after cherries and down to Camp. Wash carpets & pick up! Bake &tc. Go downstreet in the evening. Meet Carrie & Hattie.
LORAINE: Wed., July 15 Lizzie picked a lot of peas and shelled them. I did the mopping and heavy work in forenoon & quilted in PM
LORAINE: Fri., July 24 A lovely day wind from the north Dick sick last night Will & Elmer up all night with him he died this forenoon Lizzie went berrying in morning. I quilted all the afternoon
(In the Memoranda in the back of the diary where she lists deaths, she wrote :”Poor old Dick horse died July 24.”)
ELLA: Sun., July 17 Attend church with the girls. Little Anna goes for the first time. Carrie, Anna & I go to camp after dinner. Do not feel well.
Anna was five years old.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Thurs., July 21 A hot day. A letter from Persis to meet her in St. Albans. A letter from Dr. Clark in regard to Grace.
LORAINE: Tues., July 21 Evan came home on 11.30 train Karl went home with her on 8.30 train Mrs. Cadwell went to New Haven in morning A terrible heavy thundershower in PM
ELLA: Sat., July 23 Henry goes to Burlington & up to the Hospital to see Grace. He comes at 6 P.M. & Abe at 4 P.M. They go to the Lake together.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Wed., Aug. 3 Tuttle comes down & fills up our empty bread pail.
LORAINE: Mon., Aug 3 A very pleasant day We washed and ironed Jared took (?) Emma and Mr. Billings to Mt Philo & Thompsons Point report a very pleasant trip Men worked in hay field all day
LORAINE: Mon,. July 27 A most lovely day after washing I finished quilt we had on. got room ready for company they came five of them a very pleasant company We began haying they worked in the orchard.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Thurs., July 28 Lay around under the trees. A lovely day. Think I am much better.
LORAINE: Wed.., July 28 A sour day no haying done people wandering around uneasy Karl & Rupert came.
(I love “sour day”–it so describes muggy weather with imminent storms.)
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Fri., July 29 Am improving. Helen & I drive to Vergennes at night. Find things all right. Take supper with Hattie.
LORAINE: Thurs., July 29 Another unpleasant day. I dressed two birds in the morning Fannie made noodles for them they were excellent
ELLA: Sun., July 31 A quiet Sunday in Camp. A party of drunken men draw up their boats on the opposite shore of the bay. Write to Grace & Ashton. Rains in the morning.
Still trying to figure out exactly where the Camp was–”opposite Kingsland Bay” is what I’ve been told, but that covers a lot of ground.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Mon., Aug. 1 Rains in the morning. Ruth & Tuttle go to V. in the rain. Make a rockery & fill it with ferns. Make a sheet, wash &tc. Henry comes at 9 P.M. in the rain.
LORAINE: Sat, Aug. 1 A lovely day–Eva came home on half past 11 train went home on half past 8 train–poor child tied to such a vile Rascal
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Tues., Aug. 2 A pleasant day. Henry & I troll around to Scruton’s dock. He goes to Vergennes. Wash. Bathe the children in the Lake. Go to Sand Beach all of us & bring a load of wood & pebbles. Get aground & can’t get afloat. Alone to-night. Bread getting short.
LORAINE: Sun., Aug. 2 Quite a fine day None of us went to church–but after dinner we all went to Jareds Fred Tupper came with his camera and took pictures of the group (I can’t make out the rest. )
ELLA: Fri., Aug. 12 . . .Drive up to Mr. Woodman’s for pills. . . Benjamin drives for me & we don’t get home util (sic) 6 p.m.
Benjamin was about seven years old.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Thurs., Aug. 4 Make a rockery & fill it with ferns on the north side of cottage. Enjoy working out. Think it benefits me.
LORAINE: Tues Aug 4 Cloudy in the morn The folks from Jareds went to Ti for a boat ride. began raining about noon. kept it up all the rest of the day- We went to the boat but got left boat been gone about 5 minutes.
ELLA: Fri., Aug. 5 . . .we pick up & break camp, leaving Mother at the station. She goes to Burlington. Dig up currant bush divide it & set out 9 bushes.
ELLA: Sat., Aug. 6 Make pies &tc. Begin to get sick about 10 A.M. and grow worse until the doctor comes. Lie still after that and let the rest do the acting. . .
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Tues., Aug. 16 Wash. Carrie comes before dinner. Goes after her camera & comes back. Take down a section of the front fence.
LORAINE: Sun, Aug 16 A very pleasant day Eva the children and I went to church. Jared Phila & Ralph came home to dinner with us Met two autos but saw them in time to get into Miss Joslins yard Jared & Phila came to dinner. We waited in Miss Joslins yard while two autos passed by
ELLA: Sat.., Aug. 13 Henry & Gertrude go up to Lex Smith’s Mt. She comes home sick & they get about a qt. of blackberries. Clear out and sweep carpets. Bake some, &ct. Gertrude quite sick.
ELLA: Sun., Aug. 14 Carrie makes ice cream & cucumber salad. Get doctor Knowlton for Gertrude. She has quie a sick day. Hattie comes after dinner & she & Carrie go home to-gether. Write to Grace.
LORAINE: Mon., Aug 31 A very lovely day. Zeruah and John came before dinner. J.B. brought them over. We washed in morning, in PM Zeruah and I went to cemetery where our (or her, but I think our) father & mother are buried & also called on Mrs. Hand (?)
Ella Warner Fisher’s mother was named Zeruah (Barnes). I haven’t managed to figure out if Loraine Satterly was Ella’s aunt, but Mrs. Field told me that Ella “was a Satterly,” so I’m fairly certain that was the case.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Wed., Aug. 17 Carrie takes pictures of the house. Ruth goes blackberrying. . . Make cake & cookies P.M. Take Carrie down street. Ice cream.
LORAINE: Mon Aug 17 Quite a fine day though a shower about noon Finished haying in forenoon the men here to dinner. Got most of the ironing done
ELLA: Thurs., Aug. 18 Henry & Ruth go to the Lake blackberrying & make some new acquaintances. Headache & stay at home. Finish ironing. . .
ELLA:
Fri., Aug. 19 Mop, mend, &tc. Letter from Father, who is in Port Henry. Jim McCuin dies to-day.
Sun., Aug. 21 An old hen & 7 chicks up on the cellar wall. Carrie goes to HInesburg with Frank Dart. A quiet Sabbath.
Tues., Aug. 23 Henry & Ruth go blackberrying. Carrie & I go with Mumble’s team to N.H. for Henrietta. Some rain & a good deal of mud.
ELLA: Wed., Aug. 24 Carrie cuts a gingham dress for Hud. Bake A.M., sew P.M. Hattie comes up. Rains. . .
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Fri., Sept. 2 Break camp. Benjamin & I leave Helen & Ruth at Ferrisburg Station. Henry & Father row to Ferrisburg Centre & walk home. Dorothea Graves up to see Ruth.
LORAINE: Wed., Sept 2 A very fine day. Our friends left for Keesville on 11.30 train- In PM Karl Lizzie and I went to center to missionary meeting. Got quite a fright from threshing machine at (Chester ? farm?) and turned back
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Fri. Aug. 26 Sew bake, &tc. Ruth & Henry go blackberrying. Father Warner comes to-night. Frank Dart calls again.
LORAINE: Wed Aug 26 Circus at Vergennes R.M. went out and took the three boys John and Ralph Field went to City in evening did not get back until midnight- Jared and Phila here in PM A very pleasant day
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Sat., Aug. 27 Bake P.M. Get read to go to the Lake, Father, Carrie, 3 small children & I. Colvins (?) break camp, which we find in filthy condition. Frank Dart stays in Camp to-night.
LORAINE: Thurs., Aug 27 A lovely day. We all went to Philas for the day- Ralph & Rupert went home poor little boys, what will become of them, with such a damnable father I wish the good Lord would get him out of this world. Mrs Gillette here in PM
ELLA: Mon., Sept. 5 Wash, mop, &tc. Carrie helps. She takes P.M. train for Burlington. I go with her to the Station. Ruth goes after Grace at 6.24 (sic). Take Hattie some white plums. School commences. Father goes this morning to Panton.
ELLA: Mon., Aug. 29 Henry Carrie & I go blackberrying. Father stays with the children. Father & I go to Vergennes. Meet Curt Field & Mrs. Abe Allen. Things all right at home.
Filed under: 1903 Satterly diary
LORAINE: Thurs., Sept 3 Another lovely day Grace Fisher spent the day here. I went as far as school house with her
ELLA: Tues., Sept. 6 Iron, bake, &tc. Put up plums. Tuttle & Hindes run for Town Representative. Hindes beats. Walter Ross shoots himself to-day in Yonkers, N.Y.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Fri., Sept. 16 Father calls a few minutes. Henry cutting corn. Girls help him after school. Clear out. Make pumpkin pies & bread. Dress a hen Henry shot. . . Ruth comes home in Evening. Go down street.
LORAINE: Wed., Sept 16 Pretty hot Lizzie went to York State by rail I picked cauliflower and got ready to send Eva
LORAINE: Mon., Sept 7 A very pleasant day after washing I made a fire under the soap kettle, but failed to get soap- tied on comforter in PM-
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Thurs. Sept. 8 Maggie Gordon comes to sew. Anna sick. More baking. Walter Ross buried to-day from the old Sprague homestead.
LORAINE: Tue.,s Sept 8 A lovely day. Last night a frost on the flat but not about the house. We ironed in forenoon- I worked on quilt some in PM Karl started in school a slight frost last night
ELLA: Fri., Sept. 9 Rains P.M. Feeling miserable. Sew out Ruth’s marine skirt. go down street P.M. Attend meeting at the church to devise ways & means to fee the convention. Pay Juba Daniles & swear off.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Sat., Sept. 10 Baking & the usual work in hand. Ruth goes to Allen’s. I take her to the Station. Father come (sic) , Miss Gertie Gorham comes & stays all night & all the fat is in the fire.
LORAINE: Thurs., Sept 10 Lowery in morning so the men could not get up oats. John James came to work but went home after breakfast We finished tying one quilt and I put on another in PM
LORAINE: Fri., Sept 11 So fine the men came and got up oats, but could not finish I did quite a lot on quilt. RM went for Karl but missed him
ELLA: Tues., Sept. 13 Ruth’s birthday. Mrs. Mumble helps me wash, scrub out &tc. 3 of them to dinner.
LORAINE: Fri., Sept 25 Cold and clear I did nothing in particular, busy most of the time
LORAINE: Sat., Oct. 5 A very pleasant day I finished cleaning pantry- Lizzie picked up walnuts in PM Karl picked up quite a lot of them
LORAINE: Sun., Oct 11 Cool, but not very bad no fire at church Henry Bailey preached a fair sized audiance Lizze went to Fred Krippers after dinner to get some pictures taken
LORAINE: Wed., Oct 7 Pleasant, I cleared out bureau in sitting room and drawer in bed room-Lizzie picked walnuts in PM
LORAINE: Fri., Oct 9 Rained all night and quite hard in morning. I cleaned three front chambers Lizzie helped some in PM- Benjamin Fisher came home with Karl
LORAINE: Sat., Oct 10 Warm fine day Benjamin and Karl played out by pond all day. Took off their shoes & stockings and had a general good time
LORAINE: Mon., Oct 12 Pretty good day Threatened but did not rain much. Clothes nearly all dried prepared pears for canning and pickling
ELLA: Wed., Oct. 19 Anniversary of our wedding day. Twenty-eight years of married felicity (?) {sic!} Henry & (?) Cole go to Snake Mt to work. Iron.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Thurs., Oct. 13 Go down street P.M. & get groceries. Take supper with Mrs. Hindes. A lovely little spread all to ourselves. We go up to Prayer Meeting. Dr. Avery there from St. Albans.
LORAINE: Tues., Oct 13 Ironed in forenoon got ripe cucumbers ready for pickling and made up pears I got ready yesterday
LORAINE: Wed.. Oct 14 Lovely day RM went to Brandon, I was too shiftless to go to missionary meeting spent the afternoon in various ways
ELLA: Fri.., Oct. 21 Not very robust to-day. Stew pumpkins. . .Churn & pack butter. Mother & I drive the Mumbles (sic) horse & our clean buggy in the mud. Go up to the farm.
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Sat., Oct. 15 A bad rainy day. Make pies & cake. Go down street P.M. Go over to the Station to see Lucy Meader.
LORAINE: Thurs Oct., 15 I cut out frock for RM and nearly finished it RM came home on mail train Louise Booth brought satchel home, she had to carry her finery to Burlington
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Mon., Oct. 24 Wash mop & bake. Pack a bushel basket with food for Snake Mt.
LORAINE: Sat., Oct 24 A very pleasant day Lizzie away, I cleaned out dining room pantry kitchen and wash room before dinner, did some baking in PM
ELLA: Sun., Oct. 16 All go to church. do not stay to S. S. Father at the house. Packs his trunk & we leave it in the lower hall. He & Mother meet in the walk but do not speak.
(I wonder what was going on between Ella’s parents?)
LORAINE: Sat Oc.,t 17 Karl went right after breakfast to visit Benjamin Fisher It rained in PM so Karl came home with RM. football game in city between Edmunds and Vergennes high school
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Thurs. Oct. 18 Wash & almost kill myself. LIe down after dinner & go to sleep. Henry sells his apples for $35.00.
LORAINE: Sun., Oct 18 Sour lowry day we did not go to church . . .
ELLA: Thurs., Oct. 20 Hattie comes up in the P.M. Am sick, awful sick. . .
(“Sick” can often be a way of saying she’s having her period.)
LORAINE: Wed., Oct 28 Pretty cold I made fire in sitting room first time for several weeks got kitchen ready for painting
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Tues., Oct. 25 Henry & Jack go to the Mnt. Attend a meeting of the Ladies Aid at Mrs. A Ross. Aunt Frank comes from Mass.
LORAINE: Sun., Oct 25 Cold bright day RM Karl and I went to church quite a number out but the house very cold, all the heat kept in the vestry
LORAINE: Mon., Oct 26 Cold north wind. We washed and ironed all but some starched clothes. wind blew a gale phone at the center at Congo church none went from here but Will
Her lack of punctuation can be a bit frustrating. Does this mean that there was now a telephone at the Congo church and people went to see it? Or that it was the only phone around and Will went to use it?
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Sun., Oct. 30 Aunt F so poorly I call in Dr. Shuman (?). Attend church, children & I.
LORAINE: Fri Oct 30 Comfortable bright day towards night Lizzie went to center. I went and called on Ira We killed the first chickens of the season 2 weighted 11 pounds
Filed under: 1898 Ella, 1903 Satterly diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
ELLA: Mon., Oct. 31 Grace & I wash, churn, &tc. & are both very tired. Father comes from Burlington & stays down town to-night. Carrie starts for the west, from Burlington.
LORAINE: Sat., Oct 31 Very pleasant day. Hazel Reynolds spent the day with Karl I sewed rug together Lizzie had been (?) knitting warm as summer
This is the last entry in Loraine’s diary.
ELLA: Tues, Nov. 1 Father comes up to the house. Trims Henry’s trees. H gives him an order for trees. He stays with us to-night.
ELLA: Tues., Nov. 15 Sick in bed all day after a sleepless night. Grace mops & irons & lots of other things. A nice day, but cool.
ELLA: Fri., Dec. 9 Do quite a little before dinner. Grace goes to the farm with her father. Go to the church with Gravaline. Cook the oysters. Gravaline comes after me at 10 o’clock.
I have no idea who Gravaline is.
ELLA: Sun., Nov. 13 Send the children to church & just manage to live (?) myself. Write some letters in the evening & sleep in the day time. Henry goes up to see his mother.
ELLA: Wed., Nov. 16 A little better, but teeth still ache. Grace goes to Burlington in P.M.
Thurs., Nov. 17 Emma Loux (?) calls. Make cookies. Grace comes at night. Henry is just lovely. Mr. Tuttle goes to Montpelier.
Sat., Nov. 19 In the rain & the storm poor Aunt Frank goes to Lowell with no accomodations. It’s a shame. Bathe children. Mend a little. Girls help out with the apple pies, the chickens, &tc.
No entries until Dec. 3.
ELLA: Sat., Dec. 3 L.B. Stimpson dies to-day. I give up & send for Dr. Pilson. He sends me to bed & I am glad to go.
ELLA: Mon., Dec. 12 Henry kills 25 chickens & I work on them until 10 P.M. I know that I am better.
ELLA: Tues., Dec. 13 The water fails in the house. Grace does the wash. Make cake, mop, &tc. Mother comes with Gravaline. Henry goes to Snake Mt. Growing very cold.
“Silver night! Silver night!
Sheathed in pale moonlight.”
All night long! All night long!
Moonlight soft and wise and deep
Gently cradles me to sleep!
Shadows east and shadows west,
Changing shadows on a quest.
Tree shadows moving, moving slow,
Roof shadows hiding dark below!
All night long! All night long!
Moonlight soft and wise and deep
Out beneath the friendly sky
Where my loved one came to lie.
Little shadows changing slow
On the Christmas wreaths below!
~from Homeland in the North
The storm had worn itself out
And I,
Watching for the morning,
Saw a white world
Of unearthly beauty,
Too spotless for the defiling foot of man.
Farm houses here and there
Half buried in drifts,
Lonely roads
Leading into the town,
Not a soul passing to and fro!
The landscape lay still and unbroken,
Not a thing stirring
In all its white expanse,
Sacred to the great Painter
Whose brush in finishing
Swept every tree and shrub
With a frost that glistened
And sparkled
As the morning sunlight
Transformed the world.
A bewildering forest
Of spidery tracery
Outlined against the deeps
Of a still blue sky!
Toward the west lay the town,
The smoke of its chimneys
Ascending in fleecy spirals
Above the snow-white roofs,
With trees feathery and symmetrical
In the short shining distance.
I stood long at the windows,
Indelibly to imprint
The beauty of this rare morning
On a page
Of memory’s golden book.
~from Homeland in the North
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Wed., Jan. 4 Commence opportunities. Make Anna an apron after dinner & evening. Lambert sick & does not work. Henry kills 7 chickens.
1918: Fri 4 A trifle warmer. Two letters from Ben. He is in Foggia, Italy. Write Dr. Swift & send him a check for Ruth’s things. $8.75. Grace goest to afternoon tea at Louise Woodman’s. Sew a little. We talk with Dr. Crossman. Buckwheat cakes, sausages & syrup for supper.
ELLA: Fri., Dec. 30 Mild. Go down street & get the groceries. Commence Benjamin a pair of trousers. Am sick all night sewing on them. Call on Ashton & Hattie.
ELLA: Sat., Dec. 31 Make pies. Finish the trousers. John L. Tuttle takes dinner with us. Bathe children, &tc. The old year dies to-night. Heaven is near to earth & God remembers His children in mercy. His mercy has been very great this past year.
In the back of the diary, the following notes were written:
Butter acct. From Oct 1 to Jan 1
115 lbs. $22.42
Jan 8 15 lbs. $3.00
~in Nov. “Accounts” listing: “doll head .10”
~cholera pills: lead, opium & camphor, each one gram to be taken at night before bedtime.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899 is a very curious diary, containing a serious mystery. 1918 is my favorite one, dealing as it does with the home front during WWI.
1899: Sun., Jan. 1 A cold bright day. Ruth & Helen attend church but the children stay at home on account of the cold. Henry goes up to see his Mother. Write to Doc’s wife & Mary Royce. (Then some scribbling over things now unreadable. And “I am going to reform (?)” and “Henry’s mark” twice.)
1918: Tues. 1 A bitter cold day but sunny. Helen & Ben go on the noon train to Blairstown Anna on the afternoon train to West Rutland. Henrietta goes to Burlington. Tuttle thaws pipes all day & gets the water running. Clear out Helen’s room. No resolutions except a firmer grip.
Wed., 9 Cooler & house gets cold. Grace some better. Write Anna. Get the wash dry. Cut out & commence outing underwear.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899 Thurs. Jan. 5 Mend all A.M. The children get the groceries. Ashton sends me some oysters. Cut out & make a nightdress for Hud after dinner & evening. A mild pleasant day. I go out & feed hens P.M.
1918 Sat. 5 Dress 2 chickens. Make pies. Finish chemise for Grace, mend &tc. A bit warmer. Receive my pension check, which is increased to $25 per month. I am grateful. Arthur Booth sends milk by the Amise(?) girl. Henrietta visits Burlington. Abe goes to see Ruth.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899 Fri., Jan. 13 Benjamin too sick to attend school. Go down street with Percheron PM and get the groceries. Warmer.
1918: Sun. 13 Cloudy & wind. A blizzard from the southeast, icy underfoot & bitter cold. No one attends church. Karl and H come to dinner. Write Gertrude, Ben & Metcalf.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri. Jan. 6 . . .Grace comes with Gravaline from Burlington.
1918: Sun. 6 Cool North wind but beautiful. Karl & H to dinner. She brings us some oranges & grapefruit & to me a box of laces & things that were Grandma Satterley’s. Grace attends church. Roast chicken dinner.
Tues 15 Snowing all day. Karl & H go into Burlington, but do not see Ruth. The doctor thinks it is best not. Said she had a good day. Finish piece of outing underwear. A nice letter from Mr. Bartlett. They of the few. The tried and true.
Tues. 8 Snow in the morning. Put over the wash & leave Mrs. Dumas in charge. Go to Burlington with Henrietta to see Ruth. Holding her own, Dr. Crossman says. We walk with her & she attempts to go home with us. Poor, poor Ruth! Dinner at Star Restaurant. Tuttle at the Station. Grace very sick. Mrs Dumas helps out. No water.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Tues., Jan. 10 Iron. Old Bob dies this morning. Edgar Roberts wife dies with a cancer. Many are sick & dying. Ed Curler, Mrs. Wissel’s son in law dies. Henry goes for a load of wood A M & we go down to Bob’s P.M.
1918: Thurs., 10 Cloudy & some snow. A year ago to-day I went to the hospital. Letters from Ashton & Helen. His apples, potatoes & vegetables frozen in the cellar. Iron. Met (her son-in-law) sends me “The Art of Versification.” Write Ruth & Helen. Send Miss Pratt’s coat: parcel post. Finish reading “Over the Top” by Enfrey (?) Tuttle brings a small churn.
Fri 18 Make mince meat & take care of loose ends. Help Grace clean Tuttle’s room. Dr. Crossman sends a bundle of letters. 2 from Ruth. Grace goes to meet Karl & Henrietta & they attend a party in Ferrisburg. She has a card to go back to Hingham & a telegram that the school is closed indefinitely because of no fuel.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Wed., Jan. 11 Bake churn & mend. Henrietta out of school sick. Henry butchers 12 chickens in the evening. George Young in. Bob buried in the morning. Fix a muskrat skin for my chest. Quite cold. 22 below zero.
(I’m fairly sure Bob was a horse.)
1918: Fri. 11 Cool, bright day. Finish ironing. Grace well enough to walk down town. Wash 2 heavy wool union suits. Still no water. Reading “A Student in Arms” by Donald Hankey. Make 2 lbs. of butter out of 1 lb and a pint of milk.
(Another reference: “To Make Two Pounds of Butter Out of One. This makes real good butter for eating in cool weather when butter is high priced. Take one pound of butter in a vessel and warm until it can be beaten to a cream, then beat into it one pint of tepid sweet milk and the yolk of one egg, adding salt to taste. If kept in a cool place this is good and goes as far as two pounds of butter. Good for eating only, not cooking.” FANNY LEAKE CUMMINGS, M. D.)
1899: Thurs., Jan. 12 Ashton & Hattie go to Windsor. I do not see them. Mend.
1918: Sat. 12 Wind, rain & snow. Tuttle brings the water with a force pump. Clean and boil (hucks?). Make 2 apple pies. Do some repairing for Grace.
Sun 20 Quite cool. Karl & H & Grace home to dinneer. Write Ruth, Gertrude, Ben, Anna, Miss Pratt & Dr. Swift.
Mon. 14 (On top of the entry: Emerson & Clint-Dow draw wood, from the Collins lot.) The wind grows warmer toward night. Make a custard pie. Sew a little. Read Gilbert Parker’s “You Never Know Your Luck.”
Emerson, Karl’s man & Clint-Dow drawing wood from Mt. Collins lot. they bring 4 cords. Write Ashton, ruth & Lena. Tuttle goes to Bristol & returns. Interest on Liberty Bonds $8.95.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Mon., Jan. 16 Wash mop &tc. Grace & Helen do the washing. Tuttle goes downstreet but is glad to get back.
1918: Wed., 16 A bright day. Sew a little. Grace goes down town. Emerson & Dow draw afternoon 2 loads.
Thurs 17 Rather mild. Mack sends coal to last the winter, out 20 tons all told. Dow & Emerson draw wood, 4 loads. Finish outing nightdress. “The Beloved Vagabond.”
Tuttle sends $2.00 on rent. Write Mother & Susie Heald. Send Ruth some rasins (sic).
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Thurs., Jan. 26 Helen brings home the Robinson girl & they have a sleigh ride in the evening & she comes back to stay all night. (I assume one of the Rowland Robinson family.)
1918: Sat., 26 Cold north wind. Sunshine. Anna goes at noon. Make 2 pies. Darn stockings, &tc. Grace goes back to her school at Hingham Center at 10.20 tonight & I am left alone, only Tuttle, of all the family, is left.
Sat 19 Cloudy & a light snow fall. Make mince pies. We make another 2 lbs of butter from one. A letter from Ben & one from Helen. Mend. Grace at Karl’s.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sat., Jan. 21 . . .Mr. Bartlett calls & several men call to see Mr. Tuttle. Bake, bathe children &tc. About sick myself.
1918: Mon 21 Sort letters & pick up. Make a chair cushion. Make a black skirt for myself from an old one. Iron & mend my little black dress. Send checks to the Bank for deposit by Grace in the amount of $173.35. $100.00 of it belongs to the Estate. Shampoo my head. Write to Hall-Borchert Co. for a dress form. (There’s an ad for one on pg. 35 in this 1915 “Home Needlework Magazine.”
Tues 22 Miss Dumas comes to wash & clean up the kitchen. I sew on an outing combination for myself.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Mon., Jan. 23 Wash, mop &tc. A lovely day. Enjoy hanging out the clothes. Work hard & get tired.
Wed., 23 A nice day. Do most of the ironing. Sew in the afternoon & finish my outing garment. Knit in the evening. Karl goes to the Masons & Henrietta stays the evening until 1:30 (?) A.M. Write her a check for $12.50 an 8th of the $100.00 belonging to the Estate.
Henry died in 1916. I wonder if the “Estate” is his.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Tues., Jan. 24 . . .Grace is working very hard these days. She rubs up the silver.
Thurs. 24 A cold night. Sunshine part of the morning. Finish ironing. Sweep Henry’s room. Write Ruth. Also a thank-you letter to Home Correspondance School for exchange of the book Met (?) sent me, as now I have the two. Art of Story Writing and Art of Versification. Letters from Hattie & Gertrude.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Wed., Jan. 25 . . .Grace has “Gen Goss & Catherine Collins” to tea. They make a very short visit. (why the quotes?)
1918: Fri 25 Make a garment for Grace. Finish “The Shepherd of the Hills.” Anna comes at noon. We get an extra dinner for Elizabeth Robinson, who does not come. Receive a dress form from Hoboken, N.J. $10.00.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri., Feb. 3 Do some copying and some housework. Grace comes at night, Gertrude better. Helen attends a “surprise” at George Young’s.
1918: Sun., 3 A bit warmer. Karl & H to dinner. Have a headache & Anna gets dinner. She & Met go to Rutland. J.B. (or P) M. Rollin & Marnie (?) Kent come for a call. Write Ruth, Ben, Grace & Gertrude. 2 meatless meals.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri., Jan. 27 Miss Robinson to dinner. . .
1918: Sun., 27 Cold. Karl & Henrietta come to dinner. Roast pork & mince pie. Write Ruth, Ben.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sat., Jan. 28 Mend, bake, &tc. Sit up until 12 o’clock working on Helen’s brown waist. Finish it so she can wear it to church.
1918: Mon., 28 Cut out 2 black muslin dresses. Cold.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899 Sun., Jan., 29 Grace & Helen attend church. Write to Carrie, Ruth, Aunt Frank & Ashton. Mr. Bartlett in Mass & Mr. Archibald preacher. (She does not mention her birthday. She turned 46 on this day.)
1918: Tues., 29 Sew on a dress for myself. Churn a lb of butter & a pint of milk which makes 2 libs of butter. Karl & H come to supper & bring some hot escalloped oysters & a birthday cake. Also an earthenware tea pot for this my birthday. Write Dr. Crossman.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Mon., Jan. 30 Wash, mop &tc. Grace sick . . . Hud stays AM and helps wash. Comes home sick at night. Mr. Abbot’s death which, (sic) draws a pall over the school when the flag floats at half mast.
1918: Wed. 30 Not well to-day. Have a heart attack & do very little. A birthday gift from Gertrude of 3 handkerchiefs. Sew a little. A letter from Ben, also a postal. Bright & cold. Write Ashton & Gertrude. “Heart attack” probably didn’t mean what it does today. Ella lived until 1937.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Tues., Feb. 7 . . .Send to The Watchman the long promised materials. . .
1918: Thurs., 7 Cloudy, wind north. Tuttle better. Letter from Dr. Crossman. One of our transports sunk. The Turcania (sic) with 267 men reported lost. Finish my letter to Mr. Bartlett. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless. Finish nightdress for Gertrude. Do the ironing with the gasoline iron.
Thurs., 31 A nice day & a shade warmer. Work on my dress. Make fish balls. Cut up suet, &tc. Rolls for supper. Birthday greetings from Helen & Anna. A letter from Mrs. Jodoin (?) (question mark is hers) We are alone—Peterbling (That’s what it looks like. The cat?) and I. Sun dog in the west. No water for the bath tub in many days.
Fri., 1 Another sunny morning. Trying out suet. Tuttle takes the hams out of the brine, which is frozen over. It is pretty cold but beautiful outdoors. A little bird captive on the shed window. Bad news from Dr. Crossman. Anna & Met come in at 6 o’clock. Get Ruth’s linens from Pittsford. A good sunset. Sink pipes frozen.
Clearly Ruth is ill and hospitalized, but I have no idea what’s wrong with her.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Thurs., Feb. 2 Mr. E(?) calls with shoes for sale. . . Do some copying.
1918: Sat., 2 No water except in the cistern. Make mince pies. Met & Tuttle thaw out the frozen pipes. Met & Anna walk out to Karl’s for supper. Reading Oppenheim. Cold.
Mon., 11 Some snow & a gale from the south. Tuttle attempts to go to Bristol. Gets to NH (New Haven) Junction & walks back on the RR track. Alone all day. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless Sew a little. Make 2 lbs. of butter from one. Letter from Ella Fuller.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sat. Feb. 4 . . .pay for Youth’s Companion. Send away some letters. . .Henrietta goes in a “ride” to Ferrisburg.
1918: Mon., 4 A cold west wind. 2 wheatless meals, 2 meatless meals. Do not accomplish anything but the regular work. Write Gertrude & send her a duplicate check for the one that is lost. Write Ruth & Dr. Crossman. Letters from Gertrude & Benj. She has moved into their own home.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sun., Feb. 5 The children attend church. A heavy stupid feeling. Do nothing & feel bla.
(Ella was 48. I suspect The Change.)
1918: Tues., 5 Very cold. Miss Dumas comes to wash. No water after dinner. Letter from Grace. Have 2 heart attacks. 2 wheatless meals 3 meatless meals. Write Ella Tullar. Finish wristers Grace knit for Russel Kent. Burn an oil stove in the potato cellar. (and across the top of the page, “son born to Elmer Birkett)
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Mon., Feb. 6 Wash, mop &tc. Black Monday & it storms plenty. The Great Mogul gives his orders & shows his ownership & authority, also that he is a gentleman. Letters to Am Agriculturalist & Phelps Pub. Co.
1918: Wed. 6 A bitter wind that goes through everything. This is birthday for Tuttle & Karl but of the spread we planned there is nothing doing. Drying clothes. Sew on night dress. Burn oil stove in the cellar. Tuttle home afternoon with a hard cold. Commence a letter to Mr. Bartlett. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899 Tues., Feb. 14 Clear out the house and mop the floors. Make rolls &tc. A “surprise” of 27 young people, spend the evening with Helen. Cocoa, rolls & cake for refreshments.
1918 Thurs., 14 Sun shines part of the day and weather moderate. Tie off & finish comforter. Get “easy” meals. Not feeling well. Tuttle sends honey & other things to Ben. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless. Hawkins moves some of the bees.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri., Feb. 8 Make Henrietta a night-dress. Read to the children in the evening. Snowing to-day & growing cold. Helen stays to-night at Rowland Robinson’s. (This would be Rowland E. Robinson.)
1918: Fri., 8 A bright day. Cool north wind. No city water. River very low and plants shut down. Letter from Hattie. Send Gertrude her nightdress & Ruth a box of honey. Also Mr. Bartlett’s letter of 4 sheets. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless. A box of nice chocolate from Met. Letter from Grace.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Thurs., Feb. 9 Send for outing (?) & make Gertrude a night-dress. Make 8 mince pies &tc. Very cold. Henry goes to Snake Mt. Brown bread & beans for dinner.
1918: Sat. 9 Stormy all day. Roads full. No mail carriers. tuttle does not go to the office after dinner. A nice quiet day. Shut in by the drifts & the storm. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless.
10 wheatless
12 meatless this week
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri., 17 . . .Henry & Tuttle go smelt fishing . . .
1918: Sun., 17 Sunshine & cold north wind. Uneventful day. Ham & eggs for dinner. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless. Write Mother, Ruth, & Ben. Cards to Grace & Anna.
Sun., 10 Some snow. Karl & H here to dinner. Baked mackerel, &tc. 3 meatless meals. Write Ashton, Ruth, Helen & Ben.
Tues. 12 Warmer. Cloudy & rain blessed rain at night. Water going into the cistern. No city water. Write Grace. Letter from Anna. Baked beans & brown bread. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless. Finish top for a quilt. Milk from Booth’s.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Mon., Feb. 20 . . .Helen goes to the ride to-night with some of the scholars.
1918: Wed. 20 Cold. Iron in the morning. Clean out my room. Sort & pick up in the afternoon. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless. Tuttle gets 3 lbs (?) tea at Warner’s and we commence to use it.
Wed. 13 1 wheatless, 1 meatless. Ed Garripy (?) comes with his men. They saw up the woodpile. It is a big one. 7 to dinner. Karl & H come to help. Put on a quilt for Gertrude. Henrietta & I knit on a helmet for Red Cross. Have a bad dream due to being overtired. Write Gertrude.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Wed., Feb. 15 Another stormy day. Tired & sleepy & some of the children nearly sick. Henry kills 23 fowls & we help dress them for market.
1918: Fri., 15 Wind getting north. 3 meatless meals & war bread. Letters from Helen & Ben in Italy. Card from Grace. Work on quilt top for Anna. Karl & H drive out after supper . He does not come in. I send quilt, rugs, furniture, etc. to Gertrude. Write Helen, poor girl! I have to write sharp. She does not understand.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Thurs. Feb. 16 Finish the chickens & they are shipped to Bryden & Esterbrook. Make pies & cookies, grind mincemeat, &tc.
1918:
1918: Sat. 16 Make white bread & a rasin(sic) pie. Put together Anna’s quilt. Karl & H go on the noon train, first to Gertrude’s. Wind north. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless.
13 meatless, 7 wheatless
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sat., Feb. 18 A bright, pleasant day. Go downstreet after groceries, &tc. Grace, Gertrude & Benjamin attend the Matinee at City Hall.
1918: Mon., 18 A cold south wind. Work on comforter. Send Enterprise to Ruth. A telephon (sic) visit with Louise Woodman. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sun., Feb.. 19 Attend church with 5 children. A lovely sermon, “Can we do any good?” Write Ruth & Aunt Helen.
1918: Tues., 19 Rain, sleet & snow & everything coated with ice. Miss Dumas comes to wash but cannot hang clothes. Cleans out dining & sitting rooms. I finish comforter for Anna. Letters from Grace, Ashton, Gertrude & Henrietta & Met. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Tues., Feb. 21 . . .Gertrude 13 years old to-day.
1918: Thurs., 21 A very cold wind from the north. Make pies & a cake. 1 wheatless, 1 meatless. Anna & Mrs. Arnold come at 6 P.M. Knit in the evening. Send DAR dues & Mr. Barlett’s letter to Kate Dalyrimple. (in margin: Churn our lb of butter)
Wed., Feb. 22 Children all at home–Washington’s birth-day. Mix & cook mince meat. Gertrude makes a cake & I make a pudding. We use 3 eggs & suffer the penalty. Gertrude attends a party with her class over the river.
Filed under: 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum, Photos
Sun., 10 A terrible storm of wind & snow which increases as the day advances. Arthur Booth goes down with his big span of greys. Write Ruth, Grace, Gertrude, Ben, Anna & Jeanette. 2 wheatless 2 meatless. Not very well. Karl has typhoid. Ben’s letter no. 11.
(Jeanette is Ben’s wife.)
Thurs., Feb. 23 Men bring in the harnesses to oil in the kitchen. Sew. Make 9 mince meat pies. . .
(Don’t you love the picture of Ella making pies while the guys oil harnesses on the kitchen table?)
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri., Feb. 24 Mend & sew all day. Men at work on harnesses, which they got out toward night. A cold bright day.
1918: Sun., 24 Quite warm. Snow has mostly run into the road & ice quite deep between the fences. Anna & Vera Arnold go back to Rutland. Tuttle takes them over & I go. The first ride since Jan. 8. 1 meatless no wheatless. Write Ruth, Ben & Dr. Crossman.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sat., Feb. 25 A lovely day. Sew all day. Finish several things & make Helen’s grey (or maybe green) dress skirt. She & Gertrude go & get the groceries & sell the eggs. Get a letter from Burlington Hospital (sic). Burroughs comes out on Booth’s hill.
1918: Mon., 25 Warm. Snow all going down to the river in streams. Take a walk around the place. Tuttle goes to Bristol and return. Spend the day dreaming among my verses. 2 wheatless 2 meatless.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sun., Feb. 26 . . .Write to the friends in Burlington. Feeling very miserable.
1918: Tues., 26 Growing cold. Wash my underwear & stockings. Grind up & cook mince meat. Make white collar & cuffs for my old black dress. Send 3 definitions of Poetry to Poetry Lovers, also a card to Miss Pratt & a box to Ruth.
Thurs., 28 Cloudy. Make apple pie for dinner. Fish. Visit Marnie (?) and Rollin after dinner. They have an early supper to which I stay. Big drifts in the road prevent nearer than the next house with the car. Walk. Finish a sock & set up another 2 meatless 0 wheatless.
Fri., 15 Stormy morning & cold. Clears off & sunshine. Make bread, mince pies & applesauce cake. Put 3 qts. mince meat into cans. Letter from Doran Publisher. Karl about the same but H. not well. 1 wheatless 1 meatless. Send a pie & cake to Henrietta by Probate Officer & Elmer Birkett.
Wed., 1 Wash white clothes. Mop & iron. Mabel Bristol comes to see Gertrude. Henry goes to the Lake to put up ice. Letters from Carrie, Aunt Frank & Susie Heald.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Thurs., 2 Colder. Snowing. Lambert does the chores. Henry comes at night nearly dead with cold, &tc. Benjamin coughing bad. Make mince pies. Snowing to-day.
1918: Sat., 2 A nice day out. Get the meals & dwell among my dreams. 2 wheatless 1 meatless. Make 8 lbs of hard soap from old fat.
12 meatless 7 wheatless
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri., 3 Awake much of the night with Benjamin coughing and have a poor day. Sweep carpets, &tc. Mend.
1918: Sun., 3 A chill wind. Sunshine. Karl & H come to dinner. Pumpkin pie. 2 meatless 1 wheatless. I write Ruth, Ben, Mrs. Jodain (?). Cards to Anna, Grace, Gertrude & Mrs. Bucknam who did Ruth’s linens, also a letter of sympathy to Col Walter Scranton, on the death of his wife.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sat., 4 Ground white with snow which nearly all melts off before night. Make bread, cake. Mend & bathe.
1918: Mon., 4 Send Enterprise to Ashton, Ruth, Grace & Gertrude. Make bread, brown bread & beans, & pumpkin pie. Boil mincemeat. Cut out a percale dress & sew up the skirt. 2wheatless, 2 meatless. Read the papers in the evening.
I’m guessing that the link shows the “Enterprise” to which Ella refers.
Tues., 5 Election. Women vote. Miss Dumas comes to wash. Town goes license by 8 votes. A damp day. Clothes do not dry. Letters from Ashton, Grace, Gertrude, Ben & Anna. Pare & chop apples for mince meat. 3 meatless 1 wheatless. Tired. Read the papers evening. Mrs. Eno calls.
Wed. 13 A beautiful day & warm sunshine. I sew afternoon in the sunroom. An hour in the morning to my work. A note of condolence to Mildred Tabor & Ms to American Ambition & American Khakiland. A letter from Miss Ripple. Tuttle nearly sick. 2 meatless & warbread all day. Write Anna & Miss Ripple.
Wed ., 6 Snow & wind from the north. Clears off toward night. Dry the clothes. Can 14 1/2 qts mince meat. Letter from Helen Simonds. 1 meatless 1 wheatless. Griddle cakes & syrup for supper. Syrup boils over & I burn my hand .
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899 Wed., 8 Anna & I go to Burlington. A cold wind blowing. Henry takes us to the Station. Mother & I go to see the dress maker after dinner.
1918: Fri., 8 A nice day.. Send Enterprise to Helen & Anna & Ben’s letters and one from Dr. Crossman to Ashton. Sew on my dress. 1wheatless 1meatless. Karl sick. Dr. Carrol does not decide what ails him.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Thurs., 9 Still cold. Go to the dress maker at 10.30 AM. Anna & I go home PM. Mother goes to the Station with us & Hud meets us with a team at Vergennes. Very cold. Anna & I both take cold. Find things all right.
1918: Sat., 9 A nice day. Clouds up afternoon. Make mince pies. Finish my percale dress. Charlie Tabor dies this morning. Karl about the same as yesterday . . .Get a barrel of flour ground from wheat at Norton’s mill.
8 wheatless 11 meatless
Mon 11 Tuttle goes to Bristol & returns at 6-45. Work among my dreams, alone except as I talk with poor Henrietta. A baby girl born to Gertrude & Clarence. 1 wheatless 2 meatless. Lavigne & his helper split wood half a day. Charlie Tabor buried.
Tues., 12 Men come to split wood work till 10-30. A storm from the south which clears before noon. 2 meatless meals & we are eating the old war bread that will spoil if we don’t eat it. Work on the typewriter all day.
Thurs., 14 Not feeling extra well. Make custard pie for dinner. Sort a bbl (bushel) of apples. Pare & chop the poor ones & make a small pan of mince meat. Commence a letter to Helen. Wet snow & hail. Lightning in the evening. Thunder & a bolt struck Mary Fletcher Hospital not injuring anyone. 2 meatless 1 wheatless. (In margin: War bread)
Sat., 16 Clean out the bathroom & accessories, write, read, knit & sew. Send book Ms to Doran publishers by express. Karl about the same. 11 meatless 7 wheatless and all the week on war bread. Lejoy pay $4.50 on rent. 1 meatless 1 wheatless.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri., 17 Hud goes out to Mary Robinson’s. I spend the afternoon with Hattie. Ruth comes home. (and in what is slightly different writing–maybe added later?–) Florence Bristol goes to her grandfathers–takes her death cold.
1918: Sun., 17 Sunshine. Strong south wind, but not cold. Have a nap in the sunroom after dinner. Read & write the children 6 of them. 1 wheatless 2 meatless. Ben’s letter no. 12
Mon., 18 A mild day. find the pork jar spoiling. Put some time in cleaning & salting it over. Wash my flannels. Sew on print dress &tc. 1 wheatless 1 meatless.
Tues., 19 Miss Dumas come to wash & clean up. Sweeps Tuttle’s room & upper hall. A beautiful day. Karl comes to Vergennes. Letters from Anna, Grace & Gertrude. Also percale, &tc. with a service pin enclosed, from Anna. Sew on my dress. 1 wheatless 1 meatless.
Wed., 20 Finish cleaning kitchen bookcases & do part of the ironing. A line from Ruth, the first in many weeks. 2 meatless 1 wheatless. Have a heart attack after dinner & spend the afternoon in the hammock. A lovely day.
Thurs. 21 A nice day, warm & springlike. Robins & song sparrows here. 2 meatless 2 wheatless. Banana pudding for desert. Finish ironing. Fix my house dress for Gertrude. Pin them up in a towel with Anna’s things to be sent to Springfield. Write Ruth a line.
1899: Wed. 22 . . .Florence Bristol has the pneumonia. (This looks like different handwriting from the entries that surround it.)
1918: Fri. 22 Another lovely day. Not feeling well. Make bread. Finish my print dress. 2 meatless, war bread. Awful fighting in France. Germans driving the British back.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Thurs. 23 Sew. Have our picture taken in the parlour. Trouble comes out of a clear sky. Poor Grace refuses to mind. (Oh, for a copy of that photo! Interesting, too, that teenaged Grace is being troublesome!)
1918: Sat. 23 Feel very miserable & Tuttle washes the dishes. Colder. 2 meatless, war bread. Letter from Helen. Germans still driving.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri. 24 Trouble thickens. Grace goes down street twice to-day. Finish Hud’s waist. She goes down after groceries. Florence Bristol very sick. Commence Hud a skirt.
1918: Sun. 24 Letter from Ben. A beautiful day. One to linger in memory. Feeling better but not very stout. Karl & Henrietta to dinner. She drives me to the cemetery. We stop Rollins. Their goods are crated & they are nearly ready to move to Cornwall-on-the-Hudson. 2 meatless. war bread . . .Germans gaining.
Mon., 25 A good day. Tuttle goes to Bristol with the car. Plant tomato & asters. Wash up lamps. Clean kitchen cupboard. Eat my dinner in the rocker out of a bowl. 2 meatless 1 wheatless. War bread. Karl’s new man from Rutland comes to work for him. Letter from Dr. Crossman. No let up in the fighting.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Sun., March 26 Children all attend church. Easter concert in the evening & they all attend.
1918: Tues., 26 Send “Satan’s latest” to American Khakiland. Send a box to Ben. Peanut butter, tobacco, coffee, mittens, etc. Beans, brown bread & pumpkin pie. Write up some poems on the machine. Knit, &tc. 1 meatless 1 wheatless. War bread . . . Awful death list on both sides.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Mon., 27 Wash, mop, &tc. Ruth goes back to college. Her father takes her to the Station. Am about sick. Grace commences school.
1918: Wed., 27 Cool north wind. Pick up & dust. finish Ben’s socks. Without an order from headquarters no more packages can be sent to Ben. Letter from Jeanette. 1 meatless 2 wheatless. Not much let up in the fighting.
Tues., 2 Rain in the night, but clears away into a beautiful day. Mrs. Dumas washes, mops & does most of the ironing. Work is close (?) until dinner is on the table. Ed Scott calls & we have a visit on old times when he & Henry went to the cottage together. Too tired for extra work. Met sends his clothes.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Tues., 28 Grace irons. Bake &tc. Florence Bristol dies to-night.
1918: Thurs 28 A fine day. Make pumpkin pie, custard, &tc. Mend. 1 meatless, war bread. Letter from Mr. Laughton. Sett (sic) of books come by Richard Harding Davis & 5 of Stevenson . . . Henrietta goes to see Ruth in Burlington. Grace comes on the late train.
Fri., 29 Another beautiful day. Send card to Ruth & letter to Sherman, French, & Co. visit with Grace all day. Work out doors a few minutes. Anna comes in to supper. Two wheatless, meatless. Letter & doughnuts from Gertrude. Anna comes from Springfield where she has been to visit Gertrude.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Thurs., 30 A lovely day. Florence Bristol’s funeral to-day. Helen & I attend prayer meeting. Hattie comes up. Sew on my black dress & skirt.
1918: Sat. 30 A nice day. Anna looks over her 2 swarms of bees. One dead. She & Grace go out to Karl’s & back in the evening. Set the clocks ahead one hour to continue till October. No more meatless meals but savings on wheat imperative. Make oatmeal bread & mince pies. I give $1.00 toward Baptist State Fund.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri. 31 Mend. Bake & sew. It is not possible to accomplish much these days. Go down street. A lovely day. Go up & see Ashton.
1918: Sun., 31 A fine day. Grace, Anna & I attend church. $5.00 on subscription and $10.00 on church debt. Henrietta comes in the afternoon. Karl to lunch. Bring me a quart of lovely maple syrup. We go with Anna to the station. She goes to Rutland with Ruth and Ben. Ben’s letter 14.
Mon. 1 A lovely day. No extra work. Go down street after dinner. Call at Mrs. Barnard’s. Set up a sock. Order a hat made at the Bon Ton.
Looking up “Bon Ton” I found this wonderful site about WWI to WWII fashion. If you’re interested in fashion, watch the 1917 fashion newsreel. Perhaps Ella ordered a hat like one of those!
Wed., 3 Sew a little. Attend the D.A.R. chapter meeting at the Library. Presided, as there was no officer present. A nice day. Knit. Our new dining room table, which is my Xmas present, comes today. Get my hat. $2.00.
Thurs., 4 Cool north wind & sunshine. Tuttle takes me out to Karl’s. A Red Cross meeting for all day. I have a sick day & can’t enjoy it. Tuttle & Grace come after me at night. Glad to be home. This day is a night mare.
Fri., 12 Snow all day from the north, so deep Tuttle has to put on chains to go down street after dinner. Spend the day with a scrap book & give it a good start. Anna comes on the late train.
Fri., 5 Beautiful sunshine. Tuttle does up the work. Grace goes to Burlington at 8-30 to see Ruth. Sew for Grace. Henrietta goes with her: they return on P.M. train. Ruth not much better. Make bread, wheat bran & potato. Letter from Saratoga. Grace goes 10-30 back to Hingham Center.
Sat., 13 A nice day but clouds up & is cooler in the afternoon. Snow nearly all melts off. Make bread & pumpkin pie. Sew a little. Knit a little. Tuttle, Anna & I all receive a letter from Ben. Anna works out of doors in the afternoon.
Sat. 6 Make bread & pies. Letter from Mrs. Hindes. Hem a tablecloth & make asbestos mats for the new table. Put the old dining table in the kitchen. Eat on our new table. Letter from Ben. Our bread contains 1/4 bran & a lot of potato. The pie crust is 1/3 corn flour.
Sun., 7 Cool north wind with sunshine. Karl & Henrietta to dinner. We eat on the new table & the new lunch sett (sic). Alice Hawkins calls. Write Ashton, Ruth, Gertrude & Ben. Read & rest. Ben’s letter 15.
Mon., 8 Cool & cloudy with rain at night. Tuttle goes to Bristol & returns. Do a little of many things. Write Sherman, French & Co. A letter from Helen. Knit.
Tues., 9 Snow all day from the north. Card from Grace, telling her safe arrival at Hingham. Letters from Gertrude, Anna & (?) Make custard pies and cookies. Bullheads for dinner. Moving slow. Make a sack to cover Met’s best suit. Still the fighting goes on in France.
Wed., 10 Cold north wind, but the snow melts in the sun, except drifts in places. Clean kitchen closet. Letters from Ben & Ella Fuller. Mrs. Merril comes up in the afternoon. Send card to Anna.
Thurs., 11 Wash flannel, cut out my dress, &tc. Knit a little. Make a potato pie which is not exactly a success.
Fri., 26 Liberty Day. We run up the flag. the first time this year. Mrs. Merril works in the chambers. Crochett a medallion. Dr. Carroll comes to see me.
Sun., 14 A nice day. Karl & H out to dinner. Anna goes to W Rutland. I go over to the station. Write Ruth, Ben, Grace & Mrs. McKensie. Read & rest. Ben’s letter 16.
Mon., 22 Some rain. Tuttle goes to Bristol & return. I get dinner for him & he does not come to it. Clean in the Pantry. Crotchet (sic) a medallion for my center-piece. Letter from Anna. Marnie goest to Cornwall, NY to live. 9 doz. eggs at .35 per.
Mon., 15 Estella & Mrs. Wheeler call. They are canvassing for Liberty Bonds. I take 2. Clean dining room closet. Mr. & Mrs. Will Downer (?) call after supper. Tuttle goes to Bristol & back after dinner. Letter from Mother. She is nearly blind.
Tuesday, 23 Miss Dumas washes quilts. Rain toward night. Write Gertrude & card to Anna. Crotchet a medallion. Henrietta goes to see Ruth & Grandma. Ruth seems a little better. Letters from Hattie, Gertrude, Grace & Helen. Make bread.
Tues., 16 A beautiful day. Mrs. Dumas to wash. Washes 2 quilts. Write Gertrude & Helen. Scott calls on Tuttle. (In the margin: 8 doz eggs .35 per)
Wed., 17 Clouds over like rain. A little fire in the kitchen stove, which feels very comfortable. Karl takes 3 bags of potatoes from here to the station for Gertrude. Bread & pumpkin pie. Mrs. Barnard follows her Grandson, Jack, onto the (lodge? edge?) Write Mother & Hattie, also Sherman, French & Co.
Thurs., 18 Storm of cold & sleet last (sic) & everything cold this morning. A day of clouds & some sleet which sticks to everything, with a coat of ice. Clean top of the dish cupboard, mend, knit, &tc. Letter from Helen. She is going to teach Monday for 2 months. Send a dish of baked beans to the church. An all day meeting there. (In margin: Build a coal fire.)
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Wed., 19 Commence house cleaning. Work on 3d floor. Tired & lame. Warm, & pleasant.
1918: Fri., 19 Sunshine & cool north wind. Every tree & shrub coated with ice & very beautiful. Corned beef & cabbage for dinner. Letter from Ben. Shampoo my head. Marnie Kent comes up. Knit. Finish one sock & begin another. Express package to LeRoy Phillips (a publisher) goes at last. Finish cleaning dish cupboard.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Thurs., 20 A strong south wind blowing. Finish 3d floor.
1918: Sat., 20 A nice day. Cousin Marnie stays until after dinner. Tuttle takes us to the station to see about a mileage. Do the week’s ironing. Letters from Hattie & Anna. Crochet a medallion for a center piece.
Sun., 21 Cloudy, rains afternoon. Karl & H to dinner. We ride up to the cemetery, also leave Marnie’s watch & chain, which she forgot at Allen’s. Read, write Ruth, Grace & Ben. Ben’s letter is 17. Make 2 lbs of butter from one.
Wed., 24 Wind changes to the north. A good day to dry the quilts. My cold makes me sick and good-for-nothing. Make mince pies. Write Ella Fullar and Mrs. Hindes. Crochet a medallion.
Thurs., 25 Sunshine & sharp north wind. I still have a sore throat &tc. Mrs. Merril comes to clean. Karl & H come in the afternoon for a moment. Mend the flag. Crotchet (sic) a medallion.
Sat., 27 A very nice day. Mrs. Merril comes at 9 o’clock & stays until 2. Make rhubarb & apple pie, also bread. Letter from Sherman, French. Crotchet a little bit, but do not finish a medallion. Copy on the typewriter in the afternoon.
Sun., 28 A nice day with doors & windows open. Put out the flag. Had a poor night. Karl & H to dinner. Read. Write Ben, Ruth & Helen. Ben’s letter is 18.
Mon., 29 Rains. Mrs. Merril comes to clean 9 A.M. works in my room & the bathroom. I do not help much but a little has made me very tired. Send letter with poems to Leroy Phillips. Tuttle goes to Bristol & return.
Tues. 30 A nice day. 3 doz eggs at 35 per. Letter from Mrs. Hindes. Finish a medallion which is 11. Miss Dumas comes to clean. Works in Gertrude’s room. Write Gertrude, Grace & a card to Anna.
Wed., 1 Clouds & some rain. Cold & raw. Mrs. M comes after 10. Cleans sitting room. I crotchet 2 medallions. The O. Henry books come & several of Kipling. Two books of poems from Sherman F. & Co. Send a pair of socks to the Library.
Wed., 8 Thunder shower during the night. Growing cooler with wind in the north. Letter from Ben & LeRoy Phillips Pub. Mrs. Merril works from 9 until 5 P.M. Do a lot of picking up. Make 2 lbs. of butter from one.
Thurs., 2 Sunshine. A little fire in the furnace. Iron on bed curtains. Go out to Karl’s after dinner. Tuttle comes out to supper. We look over some of Henrietta’s treasures. Letter from Met. He expects to come home Sunday A.M.
Fri., 3 Henrietta goes to see Ruth. It is a poor day with her. Mrts. Merril comes to clean. Works in the hall, dusts parlor, irons my bed curtains, &tc. Letter from Anna. She has gone to Springfield.
Sat., 4 A day of sunshine. Finish medallions for our center piece, 15 in all. Mend. Make pies, knit, &tc. Karl sows the wheat & stays to dinner. Letter from Hattie. Ashton has returned from Florida. Ben’s letter is 19.
Sun., 5 A nice day. Karl & H out to dinner. Pouts & strawberry shortcake, the first strawberries. Write Ruth, Grace, Gertrude, Ben & Anna.
Mon., 6 A warm day. Mrs. Merril comes at nearly 10 o’clock. Dandelion greens. Attend chapter meeting at the George Middlebrooks. Anna Middlebrook there. Knit. Have a lovely afternoon. Write Mother, Mrs. Hindes, Hattie, F.E. Grandy. Hayes and Beecher (?) Card to American Khakiland.
Tues., 7 Mrs.Merril works in the attic & cleans Henry’s room after dinner. Tuttle takes down the storm room (sic). I finish center piece for dining table. Letters from Ruth (the first), Gertrude, Grace & Mother.
Thurs., 9 Commence on the butter today. Beans, brownbread & mince pie. Mrs. Merril comes late goes early. Make bread. Emma & Clarissa come after dinner. This is Mother’s birthday. She is 87. Write to LeRoy Phillips, Pub.
Fri., 10 Thundershowers. One this morning where the lightning struck Sam Preston’s barn & burned it up. Mrs. Merril works, finishes hall & works in the shed. Strawberries for supper. Letter from Ruth, which I am very glad to get. Answer it in the evening.
Sat., 11 Quite cool. Work in the pantry. Make cookies. Two letters from Ben. One from Rome, the other from Paris. Mary Baker died, a relative of the Satterly’s. She died of Tuberculosis, in Essex, NY. Funeral in Shelburne tomorrow. Go out to Karl’s after supper.
Sun., 12 Cloudy mnorning. Pouts for dinner. Karl & H attend Mary Baker’s funeral & come out after to lunch. A very quiet day. Deshaw pays $2.00 on rent.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899 Sat., 20 Mrs. Fisher buried to-day . . .
1918 Mon., 20 Spend the morning picking up the house. Put in a few flower seeds after dinner. A hateful wind blowing. Write Gertrude. Ice cream after supper which comes in from down street on a fairy cloud. Pike for dinner.
Mon., 13 A rainy day. Mike, Karl’s man, comes out to work out doors. He moves some bushes & shades up a flower bed, but the rain stops the work. Write Ben, Grace, Gertrude, Anna & Ruth Also a letter to the Phillips Company. Make a mince pie for dinner. Tuttle makes a screen for the bath room window.
Tues., 14 Sun comes out warm. Miss Dumas washes, mops & irons. Mrs. Merril cleans. Sunshine on the hammock where I get a rest after dinner. To bed early. Not even a lamp below stairs. Mrs. Yattaw pays $3.00 on rent.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899 Mon., 15 Wash, mop, bake & churn. Put in a telephone.
1918: Wed., 15 Mrs. Merril comes to clean. Tuttle takes me out to Karl’s after dinner. H & I go up the back road. Stop at the Orvis Cemetery & the old Quaker yard. Go to Earnest DeVine’s, to the Phebe Rogers house on the hill. Explore it. A romance of Fairy Land. Tuttle comes after me.
(In the link, scroll down to Joseph Rogers. I’d like to know more about this. Benjamin Warner–Ella’s ancestor–is also noted further down. Also check out “Wing Rogers. . a very eccentric man” indeed! )
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Tues., 16 The 2 Pilger boys run away. Mr. & Mrs. Hindes go to Winthrop Beach for their health. Iron. Clean bedroom closet & cellar way.
1918: Thurs., 16 Ralph Newton comes to work on the dining room window, cuts it out double its size. We eat in the kitchen. A nice letter from Ruth. I wish she was well enough to come home.
Fri., 24 Write a line to Mother. Call up Mrs. Hindes & Tuttle brings her to dinner. She stays until after supper & Tuttle takes her back. We knit & visit all the afternoon. A letter from poor Ruth & one from LeRoy Phillips. Send a cutting of pansies to Witford home. Funeral at one o’clock.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899 Wed., 17 Mrs. Wm Fisher and Charles Burroughs die to-day. One on each side of us.
1918 Fri., 17 Newton finishes the window at noon, but the new sash have not come. Mrs. Merril cleans dining room, cellar way & milk room. Ride out to Karl’s after supper. Anna comes on the last train. Churn.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899 Thurs. 18 Mrs. (?) cleans for me. Bedroom, dining room & pantry. Mother comes at 6. Eddie Hier & Grace Sawyer married to-day.
1918 Sat., 18 Make pies. Anna & Henrietta go to see Ruth. The Dr. will not let her come out yet. Mike makes the flower beds. Strawberries.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri., 19 Rainy. Attend the Burroughs funeral at the church. Mother arranges the flowers in the morning. Buy groceries. Mother mends all the P.M.
1918: Sun., 19 Karl & H. out to dinner. Anna goes back to Rutland. Strawberry shortcake for dinner. Mrs. Yattaw comes up with $3.00 rent money. Write Ashton, Grace & Ben.
Tues., 21 Send letters to Ruth, Gertrude & Anna, also a contract signed to LeRoy Phillips. Bake bread. Put in some flower seeds. Strawberry shortcake for supper. Out to Karl’s & take the pansies. Find them gone. The Editor, letters from Grace & Gertrude. Send books to Anna & Helen.
Wed. 22 Ham & greens for dinner. Mrs. Merril comes. Washes & irons Ruth’s things & cleans the porch. Pay her $3.83 making with the eggs she has had $16.73 for the house cleaning. Go out to Karl’s after supper.
Thurs., 23 Mrs. Whiford passed out last night. Send Ruth a box of clean clothes. Not very well. Letter from LeRoy Phillips. Sew on my dress. Gussie Norton comes for the Red Cross. I give 5.00 and pay up my subscription ($4.00) for the year.
Sat. 25 Make a rhubarb pie. Sew on my black silk which I am making over for a living. Receive Ms. from Phillips & Co. left over from that accepted for a book. Rain at night. Package of mail from Dr. Crossman.
Sun., 26 Karl & H come to dinner & stay until bed time. Strawberry shortcake. Commence a letter to Ben. Clouds and a bit of rain.
Mon. 27 Sew on my dress. Karl & H come after dinner. Bring Mike & a pig. They furrow out for the potatoes. The children go home & we keep Mike & the pig. Write Ruth and finish Ben’s letter. Mix bread.
Tues. 28 Mike covers the potatoes & Tuttle drops them. He works on the lawn until 4 o’clock then goes to Karl’s. Miss Dumas washes, irons, cleans up &tc. Write Grace, Phillips Co. and Helen & Ben. Letters from Grace & Gertrude. Card from Ruth.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Mon. 5 Wash a good deal but not all.
1918: Wed., 5 A beautiful day. Tuttle goes to Middlebury. I get dinner for him but he does not come until 3 o’clock. Sew on percale. Not feeling well. Rose Burroughs calls. Mrs. Yattaw calls with $2.00 rent. Henrietta comes. Stays to supper and drives home. Send Ruth a suit, also a letter. Churn. (in the margin) Letters from Anna & Gertrude.
Wed. 29 Clouds & sunshine. Letter from Jeanette. Deposit $70.00, already accounted for, in V. Bank. Write check to Phillips’ Co. Work on my dress. Shortcake. Trout for supper. Find the hams full of live stock. Package of clothing from Ruth. Write Gertrude & Ruth.
Thurs., 30 Miss Dumas works in the cellar & washes Ruth’s clothes. Irons them. Work on my dress. Set out some of the asters. Write Anna.
And a poem that Ella Warner Fisher wrote in 1919 (Not one of her better ones, I think.):
OUR SONS
Our fathers blazed a trail
In the wilderness
Such as we,
In the comfort of our homes,
Cannot conceive.
The path which they paved
Has lengthened its girth
To that civilization
Which has made America
The greatest nation on the earth.
It is our privilege
As Daughters of the American Revolution,
To perpetuate their memory;
To twine their names with Everlasting.
Their courage in hardship,
In peril and death,
We would tell it in words
That flame with the breath.
Their guns are silent,
Their forms are still,
But their lives live on
All time to thrill.
It has become our privilege
To honor the names of our sons;
They were accustomed to the ways of peace,
They imbibed it in homes and churches
And its restfulness
Made them good citizens.
With the pure air
And grand out-doors of God’s country,
They also imbibed
And undying patriotism,
A love of liberty
And its glorious emblem,
The beautiful star spangled banner.
Nobly the answered the country’s call;
It came from the war worn,
The despairing across the sea,
From the trenches
And the red desert of “no man’s land,”
It came from the gurgle
Of hungry waters
Where brave ships were drowning,
It came from the east and the west
While the foes of the Nation
Plotted ruin and waste,
Even its homes,
By the prowling of spies
Were in jeopardy placed.
Bravely they marched away
But oh, the heartache they left,
The homes with an empty chair,
A coat and a cap on the wall,
A vacant place at the table;
Even the streets and the highways
Were altars of prayer,
And the hush of dread and expectancy
Hung like a cloud
On the troubled air.
It is through the mercy of God
So man of them are here today;
They gave themselves
And we are here to honor them
with infinite care and skill
Their names have been cast in bronze,
Lest we forget.
As we look into their faces
Our hearts are filled with thanksgiving;
They have been returned to us
instead of empty aching hearts
And the memory of a white cross,
Somewhere in France.
The guns are silent,
The slain are still,
But their lives live on
All time to thrill.
The co-partnership of our sister town,
The interest and enthusiasm,
The aid our friends and townspeople
Have so generously given
Are things to be remembered.
Together we have wrought
During the cycles of the past year.
Side by side we have thought,
Looking forward to the is day,
And our harts have grown warm
With the glow of friendliness.
Our thought wanders
Down the vista of the future
When the names on this Honor Roll
Will be scanned by unfamiliar eyes;
When reverent lip[s will speak them
As a holy memory,
And reverent hearts will keep them,
A monument for all time.
(from 1919)
Fri., 31 Finish my dress. Pay the milk bill $2.48. H & Karl go to Addison with the Ferrisburg people to give a play. Mend some of Ruth’s things while waiting to hear from her. Some rain. Telegram from Ben. He is safe on this side, at Ellis Island.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Thurs., 1 Mother, Henry & Gertrude go to the Lake & Percheron. Hattie comes in the P.M.
1918: Sat., June 1 A hot day. Make a pie & some cake. Mend up a lot of things. Ralph Norton comes to put in the dining room window & screens. Karl & H troll down to the Cottage in a row boat. Suit case from Ruth. Send her laundry.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Fri 2 Mother, Henry & Gertrude return from the Lake. Clean out the shed.
1918: Sun., 2 A very lovely day. Strawberry shortcake. Karl & H to lunch. Read & rest. Commence children’s letters but do not finish them. Letter from Ben.
(They’ve been having strawberry shortcake a great deal–and here in 2011 the strawberries aren’t ripe yet–not even the wild ones, as far as I can tell.)
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sat. 3 Helen & I clean the cellar. Mother mops dining room & Grace the kitchen. Ruth & her friend Miss Jones (James?) come on the Sarah St. John excursion from Burlington & I carry them back to the boat. We drive over to the state school. Stop & get groceries.
1918: Mon., 3 Write Ashton, Ruth & Dr. Sears. A nice day but a high wind. Attend annual D.A. R. election at Mrs. Thorne’s. Elected Regent. Write Grace, Ben & Helen Simonds. Package (hand tag) from Ruth. Tuttle goes to Bristol and return.
Tues., 4 Miss Dumas washes, mops & irons. Does up Ruth’s clothes. Letter from Ruth, a telephone from Helen Simmonds. Mother quite ill. Sew on black percale dress. Tuttle goes to Middlebury & return. Cloudy & cool.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Tues. 6 The hottest 6 of June on record in this latitude. (how did she know before NOAA weather radio?) Finish wash, ironing, mopping, churning, baking. How is that for a day’s work?
1918: Thurs., 6 Cut out Henrietta’s dress & sew a little. Karl comes & cultivates the corn. Here to dinner. Cook greens & a rhubarb pie. Sort out the rest of the asters. Write Anna, Gertrude & Ben.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Wed. 7 Grace & Helen attend band concert. Helen Collins comes to go with them. Sew for Helen.
1918: Fri., 7 Rain last night. Ruth comes in about 8-30, Karl & Henrietta a little later. They stay to dinner. H. does up the dinner dishes. Weed out the sweet peas. Write Hattie.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Thurs. 15 Mary Robinson up to dinner. We all attend the graduating exercises at the Opera House. Class do well. Grace has the valedictory & we are all glad it is over. Henry, Mother, Helen, Gertrude & I attend.
1918: Sat., 15 Ruth & Henrietta go to Burlington. I pick up nearly all day. Make cake & rolls for supper. Expect Anna, who does not come. Mike leaves Karl & goes home to Rutland.
Sat., 8 Make rhubarb & apple pie. Mike works for us to-day. Gets here at 8-15. Quits at 5 o’clock. Not much to show for his day’s work. Miss Dumas finishes the cellar & helps out. Not a very good day.
Sun., 9 Cloudy & some rain. Karl & H do not come. Get out my old pictures & sort them over. Feeling rather tired. Do not write letters.
Mon., 17 Cloudy & chill. We receive a telegram that Benb Smith is drowned at Delaware Water Gap and body noty found. Our Ben goes from Rutland to Helen tonight. Ruth has Florence Duprey to help her.
Ben Smith was the husband of Ella’s daughter Helen. Ella wrote a poem about this, published in The New Sketch Book. Unfortunately, I can’t find it in my files. The book is now in the collection of the Swift-Strong research center at the Sheldon Museum. If any reader has the book and would like to put the poem in the comments, I’d be most grateful.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sat., 10 Bake bread, pies & cake. Sweep 2 chambers, halls & stairs. Mop part of kitchen. Mend, bathe children & get my Sabbath School lesson & the rest work in other places. Children pack wood. A beautiful day.
1918: Mon., 10 Getting tired & have a heart attack. Sew a little. Madam Burroughs passed out this evening at 7 o’clock.
1898: Sun 11 A lovely day but no rain. 8 of us attend service. Teach my class. Baccalaureate sermon in the evening in Congo church by their minister. Grace & Helen attend. Write the form letter for the Home for Friendless Women & write Carrie & Ruth.
1918: Tues. 11 Not good news from Mother. Mr. Laughton calls with news of Mrs. Burrough’s death. Miss Dumas washes, mops & irons. Write Burlington & cards to Anna, Grace & Helen. Mike comes to work. A day of anxiety & perplexity.
Wed., 12 Baked beans, brown bread, etc. Ruth makes cake & cookies. Her trunk comes. Karl & H go to the cottage. The days are perplexing. Mike rises at 8-30. (sic) Mrs. Woodman calls. Mr. Tuttle takes Ruth & me up to Burroughs. Ruth make (sic) a pretty gift for them of fern leaves & yellow roses.
Thurs., 13 Cloudy. Mike rises at 8-30. Talk with Anna. Cynthia, Mrs. Ruscoe, Henrietta & Mrs. William Cotey call. Madam Burroughs buried in the Gage cemetery, Ferrisburg. Mrs. Whiton sends me some dahlias. Write Ben.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Wed. 14 Children nearly all out of school. A very hot day. Henry & I go to the Lake. Put the cottage in nice order. Wash windows, mop & leave in homelike shape. A cool change toward night. Letter from Persis. She sends Grace $2.00.
1918: Fri., 14 A fine day. Mike kills time all day. Cuts the bushes out of the fence & puts in a little wood. Ben comes in the afternoon. We go out to Karl’s a moment after supper. Mix bread. Florence Duprey works for Ruth.
Filed under: 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum, Poems, The New Sketch Book
Sun., 16 A good day. Karl & Henrietta out to dinner. Read some. Ben goes to Rutland & we go to the station with him. Charles Duprey calls. Go early to bed. (In handwriting added later) Ben Smith drowned today.
Here is a poem Ella wrote about her son-in-law, in his voice. Published in The New Sketch Book.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN SMITH
As one suddenly translated,
So I passed out.
The Sabbath stillness;
The blue and smiling skies;
The shimmering water,
All lured me on.
Wrapped in a mighty peace
And thrilled with the joy of living,
Nature’s enticing voices
And the All Pervading
Blended my surroundings
In one grand symphony,
Of which I seemed a fitting part.
I knew no pain,
No sorrow whelmed my soul.
But with a mind keyed to enjoy,
In one brief moment
Earth and Heaven met
And face to face with God
I found the glorious reality
Of the perfect life.
Tues., 18 Miss Dumas does a big wash. Mops & cleans up. Mr. Laughton calls also Herbert. No news from Helen & Ben. Ruth makes cake & cookies.
Wed., 19 Chill north wind, but a beautifuyl day. We all do some ironing. Letter from Grace. Write Gertrude & LeRoy Phillips. Henrietta comes to stay while Karl attends the “Masons.”
(I don’t know what the “Masons” is in quotes.)
Thurs., 20 Wire from Ben. They have found Ben Smith’s body & will come Sat. A.M. Pick up, &tc., about the house.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Wed., 21 Helen goes to the Cottage with Barnes Collins family. 33 at the camp to-day & enjoying a wonderful time. Henry & Benjamin go fishing all day.
1918: Fri., 21 Receive copy of advance circular about my book from LeRoy Phillips. Sweeping & claearing out. Make pies. Grace & Hattie come at 6 P.M., Anna (smudge) I make a pansy pillow.
Sat., 22 Ben & Helen bring Ben Smith’s body on 8-30 A.M. Train. We have a short funeral service at 10 o’clock & lay Ben over in the cemetery with Henry. Karl & H stay to dinner, we have 11. Rain settles in afternoon. Book case comes for which I have waited 6 months.
(I find this a very curious entry, and wonder if Ella is such a Yankee that she’s being Stoic about the death of her son-in-law, or if she didn’t much like him.)
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Fri. 23 Mrs. Ketcham calls. A high wind blowing. Fix Henrietta’s white dress, put ribbons onto Gertrude’s. Finish my pink skirt. Cut out a fancy petticoat. Grace out home to supper. Henry goes after her & closes the Cottage.
1918: Sun., 23 Rainy. Karl & H out to dinner & bring strawberry ice cream for which I make a sponge cake. Ruth goes to N.Y. at 10-20. O you poor, poor Ruth.
Mon., 24 We go to Long Point in Mitch Daniels car. Helen, Mr. Mason, Anna & I. He comes back to the house for lunch. Catches the noon train for Penn. I get dinner. Tuttle takes Hattie & Grace to Uncle Ben’s & they get back at noon. Karl to dinner. He, with & and Anna go to the Cottage. Hattie & I go to Burlington P.M. to see Mother, quite feeble.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sun. 25 All attend morning service & all attend the children’s concert in the evening. 6 of the children take part in it & all do well.
1918: Tues., 25 Stay with Mother & Helen until after dinner. Stop at a store or 2. Ben meets us at the station. We go to Karl’s after supper. Miss Dumas washes & cleans up.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Mon., 26 Start the wash early. Go to Burlington on the 10 AM train. Abe, Ruth & Ralph at the station. Go onto the campus to hear the Class Day exercises which were very good. Attend Sen. Promenade at Billings Library in the evening.
1918: Wed., 26 Hattie goes down street to make some calls. Kate Dalrymple takes her to her cottage P. M. Ben fixes up at the tenement for Geo. Le Joie. Strawberry shortcake for supper. Mrs. Woodman & Louise call. Ben takes Louise, Grace & Helen to Karl’s after Anna. Charlie Duprey & Russel Gonyea plow out the corn.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Tues., 27 Helen & Ralph go to Thompson’s Point. . . Attend prize speaking at College St. Congo Church in the evening. Henry comes & stays to-night.
1918: Thurs. 27 We all go to the Cottage. Take Hattie. Spend the day cleaning up. Tuttle takes Grace & Hattie to the house at night & Ben, Helen, Anna & I stay at the cottage.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Wed. 28 Raining all day. Attend commencement exercises at the Opera House where the graduates receive their diplomas. Henry & I go to Vergennes & ride home with Gravaline. All well at home.
1918: Fri., 28 Hattie goes to Saratoga. We go up home in time for supper. Helen gets floods of letters of condolence. A beautiful day at the Lake.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Thurs. 29 ME & Baptist excursion up the Lake. No one attends from here. Sew for Helen. Grace goes to Burlington. I take her to the Station. Make myself an apron.
1918: Sat., 29 Make pies & bread. Pick up & put away things.
Sun., 30 Grace & Anna attend church. Karl & H come to dinner. Send $5.00 which straightens out my account. With Gertrude & Mrs. Hindes the children go over to the Cemetery & Ben goest to Rutland. A warm day.
And here again is the account of Anna’s wedding:
THE CITY NEWS
An attractive wedding was solemnized Monday evening, June 30, at the home of Mrs. Henry P. Fisher of Vergennes, when her youngest daughter, Anna Roberts Fisher, was married to Alvin Robert Metcalfe of Springfield, Mass. The ceremony was performed by Dr. Vernon C. Harrington, professor of English and public speaking of Middlebury College. A buffet dinner was served at 6:30 to about 30 relatives and intimate friends of the family, after which the nuptial service took place under an arch of maiden hair fern mounted on a pedestal of arbor vitae and daisies. the bridal party entered the library to the strains of the wedding march from Lohengrin, played by Miss Grace P. Fisher, a sister of the bride. Mrs. Karl Field, who also is a sister of the bride, and Miss Ruth Greeley of Rochester preceded the bride, who entered upon the arm of her brother, Benjamin Warner Fisher. Mr. Metcalfe and Arthur B. Richards of Worcester, Mass, joined the group at the center of the room. The single ring service was used. The bride’s gown was of white crepe meteor and she carried a shower bouquet of white roses and sweet peas. The veil was attached to a point lace cap. The matron of honor and the bridesmaid’s dresses were of white and they carried bouquets of pink sweet peas. The entire house was decorated with ferns and roses. Miss Fisher was a graduate of Vergennes high school of the class of 1911 andof (sic) Middlebury College in 1916. For two years she was a member of the faculty of the high school of West Rutland, teaching English as her principal subject. Mr. Metcalfe is is the son of William S. and Susie J. Metcalfe of Detroit, Mich. He was graduated from Worcester English high and attended Middlebury College, being identified with the class of 1916. At present he is assistant to the publicity manager of the Fisk Rubber company of Springfield, Mass. During the war he enlisted in the aviation corps and received the commission of lieutenant. Mr. Richards, who is of Worcester, Mass., was the boyhood chum of Mr. Metcalfe, and is at present a government accountant and is stationed at Buffalo, N.Y. He became a sergeant during the recent conflict. Miss Greeley was a classmate of Miss Fisher at Middlebury and is at present an instructor at Birgham Academy at Bakersfield. The guests from out of town who attended the wedding were Miss Rachael A. Metcalfe of Lewiston, Me., Mrs. A. B. Simonds, Harold Simonds and Mrs. Z. G. Warner of Burlington, Mrs. Charles Telford Fairfield of Rutland and Mrs. L.C. Howe and daughter, Miss Clarissa, of St. Johnsbury.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sat., 1 Bake, mop, bathe children, & sew on Helen’s things. Warm. Henry haying. Casey helps him 1/2 days.
1918: Mon., 1 “Muggy” & cloudy. Grace & Anna go to Burlington. Mother much improved. Rain. tuttle goes to Bristol. Grace not very well.
Wed., 10 Clouds, but a rift of sunshine. Ben returns at noon. We pick up & do a little baking. Jeanette comes on 9 o’clock train. Ben & Anna meet her. We have a little supper for Ben, a birthday cake. Karl & H bring a freezer of ice cream.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sun., 2 Very warm in the sun. 8 of us attend service. Cook the old rooster for dinner.
1918: Tues., 2 Miss Dumas has a big wash, which she spreads on the lawn. Make me a hat. Not much improvement on the old one. Anna makes a lovely cake. I make chicken salad, Henrietta has a birthday & we take our things out to supper. Ruth comes while we are gone.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Mon. 3 Simonds & Peterson & families come at 9 AM. Henry drives them to Camp. Helen goes in a new capacity. Fix my blue print waist.
1918: Wed., 3 Ruth tired but has a good day. Anna irons all the morning, goes to Richford to see Ruth Gruby (?) afternoon.
Thurs. 11 Jeanette goes at noon. Pouts, green peas & custard pie for dinner. Ben goes in the afternoon. His furlough is over. My dear Boy. It upsets me to have him go. Have a visit with Ruth & knit. A notice from Mr. Laughton of the meeting to night at the church. I would like to go, but do not.
Filed under: 1918 Ella's Diary, Clippings, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum, Poems
Thurs., 4 A good day. Ferrisburg celebrates. Henrietta helps. They take in a large sum. No word from Ben. I guess he is happy. The guns kept us awake after midnight. No celebration here.
This is from a scrapbook that Ella kept–now at the Ferrisburgh Historical Society (I think). Clearly Vergennes celebrated in 1916.
HOW VERGENNES CELEBRATED
VARIED PROGRAM COVERING THREE DAYS
Only Drawback To Complete Success Was Disagreeable Weather–Pageant an Artistic Triumph–Adresses, (sic) Music, Sports
Although the weather for the entire three days of Vergennes’s celebration in honor of its 150th anniversary, McIntosh memorial, Old Home Week and Fourth of July, was about as bad as it could be at this season, every part of the program was carried out and another success scored by the managers. . .
. . Sunday morning. . . Following the concert came an adress on “Preparedness” by Principal M. W. Thomas of the North Adams (Mass) High school. An original poem by Mrs. Ella Warner Fisher, “Why We Love Vergennes,” was read by the author. . .
MONDAY
A band concert on the park by the Physicians Alumni Musical association was scheduled for Monday afternoon at 4. At the hour the association had not arrived, and it was not until 5 30 that the concert began, and of course, was necessarily brief. The delay was caused by the inability of the musicians to get across the lake earlier. Capt. Daniels brought them from Westport in the steamer Victor. . .
July 1916
And here again is the poem she wrote and read:
WHY WE LOVE VERGENNES
A rebel Patriot paused one day
Beside yon cataract’s foaming spray,
A few small houses stood beside
The river’s swift and turbid tide;
A few small houses and that was all,
Clustered for safety about the Fall.
What was it he saw that his pulses fired?
What was it he felt that his soul inspired?
In the wilderness lay this sunlit glade,
A hallowed spot by Nature made;
A little spot where the trees were felled,
But Ethan Allen in vision beheld
A busy city beside the Fall,
And obeying at once the insistent call,
He secured a charter to hold forever
This charming spot beside the river.
That’s why we love Vergennes.
May it bring to us a thought of cheer,
It was not because of the numbers here;
The heritage that is handed down
To us, who live in this quaint old town,
Is mightier far than the millions made
In the sweating toil of the shops of trade.
The beaten way our fathers trod
Lay close to Nature and Nature’s God;
The quiet homes and the simple life;
The absence of turmoil, crime and strife;
The ready sympathy and right good will;
Each man and woman with a place to fill,
That’s why we love Vergennes.
The song birds flit among our trees,
Their glad notes mingle with the breeze;
A littler earlier they come
To make with us their summer home.
The wild flowers bloom not far away
Where meadows spread their green array;
The woods and hills enclose us round;
The mountain peaks our vision bound,
And gorgeous sunsets down the west
Herald the night’s approaching rest,
When peace and quiet settle down
Like a benediction o’er the town.
That’s why we love Vergennes.
Its bells ring out in cadence clear,
The pave is worn with passing feet
As they call and call with a meaning sweet.
The song of praise; the hush of prayer;
The belief in a Heavenly Father’s care,
Form a tie of brotherhood true and tried.
And all men worship side by side.
Each man’s better self awakes
When the Sabbath stillness o’er us breaks.
That’s why we love Vergennes.
Some go out each passing year;
On the hillside green they sweetly rest,
The peace of God on each still breast.
A mound of earth; a gift of flowers;
Each hallowed dead, they still are ours;
Inert and silent, tho they lie,
They bind us with another tie.
That’s why we love Vergennes.
The dearest spot in all the earth
Is the goodly land that gave us birth.
The charm of home has a strong appeal;
It binds the heart with bands of steel,
And if we go out to criticise
Some loiterer waits to put us wise;
We easily find the things we seek;
Some spot in our brother’s armor weak.
This was not in the vision the Patriot saw,
Buy a city of homes without a flaw;
The ready sympathy and right good will;
Each man and woman with a place to fill,
And, friends, “it is up to you and me”
To make this place what it ought to be.
That’s why we love Vergennes.
Fri., 5 A lovely day. Sunshine. Mend. Nothing special doing. Letter from Hattie. They have decided not to use the Cottage this summner. Ben comes in at 6 P.M.
Sun., 7 Grace & Anna attend church. Pouts for dinner, also green peas from the garden. Write Ashton & Gertrude. Red & rest.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sat., 8 Bake bread, cake & pies. Mend, bathe children. Henry & Benjamin go to camp in a small boat. Mr. Beach (sic)
1918: Mon., 8 Pick up, wash, pull weeds, get meals, &tc. Do some repairing for Grace. Send a list of Vt. libraries to LeRoy Phillips. Receive advance circulars on my book–Idylls of champlain. Rain. Ben receives his commission as Lieut.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sun. 9 Raining hard. Henrietta & I attend church & S.S. I teach Mrs. Dalyrimple’s class. Tomatoes for dinner. Hattie & 3 friends come up on the boat & attend church.
1918: Tues., 9 Miss Dumas washes & sweeps Tuttle’s room. He takes us to the military drill by U.V.M. cadets & 24 Charlotte women. Rainy. Ben goes to Middelbury. We invite Jeanette for to-morrow.
Sun., 14 Some rain. Helen, Anna & I attend Church & Communion. Meet a few of the old members, also Rev. Mr. Hazelton, who is working for Herbert Burroughs for 3 weeks, helping with haying. Karl & H to dinner, which Ruth starts. We go to cemetery after Col. (?) Write Grace, Ben & Gertrude.
Tues., 16 Miss Dumas washes. A good day to dry clothes, but warm. Letters from Hattie & Gertrude. Proof sheets from LeRoy Phillips.
Wed., 17 clouds & some rain. Adams mows down the parsnips in the road. Help iron. Anna paints the dining room window casing.
Thurs., 18 A clear beautiful day, after a night of drifting mists. Spend the morning buy memory fails to tell how.
Fri., 19 Paint dining room window a second coat. About now send $110 to LeRoy Phillips.
Sat., 20 A warm day. Make bread. Grace comes home with little Frances Buck. Great news from France–Allies driving the Germans.
Here is a link to a diary I found written by young Joseph Jones, while fighting in WW I. There are links on the site to other things, too. And here’s another link about the Marne Counteroffensive, with a map.
Sat., 27 Another hot day. Make bread & pies. Get a fall. Henrietta brings Grace & Anna home. The former goes to bed. Letter from Ben. He is to be married soon. Had adenoids tonsils removed.
(II think she means Ben had his tonsils out, not herself. )
Sun., 21 A hot day. No one attends church. Karl & Henrietta bring a freeezer of cream for dinner. Read & write Gertrude & Helen Simonds. Terrible fighting in France.
Mon., 22 Get dinner on the kerosene stove. A hot day. Anna goes out to Karls & she & Henrietta drive to Mrs. Hinds. Grace, Anna & Frances go over to Woodman’s. A sharp thunderstorm at night which sets a fire in the Curtain Roll shavings.
I found an ad for a kerosene stove on eBay, but didn’t link to it, since it will likely disappear soon. Look for “1918 kerosene cookstove.” Saving coal was a motivation, as was being able to avoid going out to buy coal and avoiding exposure to influenza.
Tues., 23 Miss Dumas washes. Irons some. Anna & Henrietta pick blueberries on Fuller Mountain & drive home at night.
Wed., 24 Tuttle & the girls go to Karl’s after Anna’s blueberries which I put into cans. We pick up, sweep & dust. Mrs. Witheral brings Mother & Helen, takes in Frances & me & we go to the cottage. Have a picnic on the porch with coffee & good things. Tuttle brings Anna home. (In the margin) Adams cuts grass.
Thurs., 25 Hot sun. Can 16 qts. peas & 6 qts. black (?). Kerosene stove gets on fine. Adams haying. Cut out dress for Dorothy. The fight goes on in France.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Wed., 26 A terrible day for heat. Have a headache from it.
1918: Fri., 26 Helen goes to Burlington & returns. A hot day. Can 4 pts string beans. Mr. Laughton sends me the Church records. A barn dance at Earnest DeVine’s in Ferrisburg. We all go out & leave Grace & Anna.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Fri., 28 Sew on Anna’s gingham dress. Baked beans. Children go raspberrying. Alice Ruscoe comes up PM
1918: Sun. 28 A breathless hot night. Helen & Anna attend church. Karl & H at the Cottage today. A day of rest. Anna decides to go up tomorrow & help out. Electric storms last night.
Mon., 29 Mother had a bad night but feeling better. Anna goes at noon to Abe’s. Go out to Karl’s after supper. Gertrude & her 2 babies are there. They are a complete surprise. Electric storms in the night.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sun., 30 Janus (?) Ten-Brook preaches. Attend S S.
1918: Tues., 30 Clouds break away. Miss Dumas washes. Ruth cleans up the road side. Grace & I help a little. Paint outside of dining room window.
There are no entries in the 1898 or 1918 diaries for today, so here is a summer poem instead. It’s from Green Mountain Echoes, published in 1927. The inscription in the header of this blog is written on the flyleaf of my copy.
I will rise at dawn on a summer day
And follow the trail thru the hills away,
I will make my camp where the pines grow tall
And fragrant needles softly fall.
I will pitch my tent where murmurs low
Like music drift from the river’s flow.
I will drape my couch with balsam deep
And inhale its fragrance while I sleep.
While the old world swelters in noonday heat
The mountain breeze will cool my retreat,
Bird songs will quaver from hidden shade
And squirrels will come to me unafraid.
I will stroll away with the still deep stream
And drop a line where trout fins gleam.
I will heed no hours save hunger’s call,
I will have no light when the shadows fall.
When the moon shines down on my place of rest
I will watch her glimmer on the river’s breast. . .
I will watch the stars in the deeps above
And my heart will pulse with the hills I love.
Tues. 1 Bake bread & pies. Iron. Go down street & get some cups & saucers & a doz napkins. Ruth makes bread.
Wed. 2 Make cake, pies & rolls. Mop &tc. Edgar & Lulu come at noon. A very pleasant day.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Thurs. 3 Carry Edgar & Lulu to the 8 AM boat. Ruth goes with them to Basin Harbor. Grace & Helen attend (Cassin, Carsin?) Field’s funeral. Anna & I spend the PM with Mrs. Ruscoe. Attend prayer meeting in the evening. A good meeting.
1918: Sat., Aug. 3 Mend &tc. Write to LeRoy Phillips regarding the book. He is so slow.
Sun., Aug. 4 Our Pastor is on vacation. I notice the family are so attached to him they cannot attend Church elsewhere. The girls walk out to Karl’s. Chicken for dinner. A heart attack winds up my day.
Mon., Aug. 5 Cloudy, but little rain last night. Mend a little. Feed Fish & Lady. Call on Anna, who comes on P.M. train. Grace goes to Burlington at noon. Mary Ross calls on Ruth. Tuttle goes to Bristol & return. Write Ben.
When Tuttle goes to Bristol, Ella always writes “and return”–not “returns.” I wonder why?
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sun., 6 Benjamin & I go up to the ME church. Sit with Mr. Whitford & wife. Go down to the church & find it locked, so do not have a SS. Children go up to the farm.
1918: Tues., 6 Miss Dumas comes to wash. A hot day. Sew & mend a little. Pick up &tc.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Tues. 8 Ruth & Gertrude go berrying. Ironing & baking. Ruth & Hud go to Addison & buy Hud the long coveted wheel of Belle Baker. Drive up to Woodman’s & get some pills for Mrs. Peterson. Mrs. Boynton too ill to be seen.
1918: Thurs., 8 The Walter Main Circus comes to town & we go down to the street parade. Mend. Write to LeRoy Phillips. Letter from Mrs. Hinds. Write the State Regent–Mrs. H. R. Watkins. Mix bread at night.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Wed. 9 Sew a little. Bake. Hud on a wheel all day. Carry Ruth to the Station. She goes to Burlington.
1918: Fri., 9 Not feeling well.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Thus., 10 A cloudy, drizzly day. Sew a little. Grace, Helen & I attend prayer meeting. Send Dr. Willard to visit Mother Fisher who is quite poorly.
1918: Sat., 10 Make bread. Gertrude & Henrietta come out to dinner. Gertrude stays & Mother goes home with H. Give my room to Gertrude & take Grace’s.
Sun., 18 We all go out to Karl’s to dinner with Clarence & Gertrude. Chicken pie & ice cream. (This is written decoratively, in a circle!) Ben comes. Mother stays & we come home. Clarence, Gertrude & the children out to lunch.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum, Photos
1898: Fri. 11 Churning &tc. Henry & I drive to the cottage & take dinner. Fix collar on my black dress. Read in the evening.
1918: Sun., 11 A hot day. No service in our Church. Red & rest. Mother & Henrietta call. They went out to the old home in Ferrisburg. We go out to Karl’s after lunch. Sleep in Grace’s room.
I wish I knew where the Ferrisburgh house was–two, I think–the one Ella was born in and (maybe) the one they were living in up till at least 1900 when they moved to Vergennes. Time to visit the Ferrisburgh Historical Society! This is the one she was born in, I think. It was in a scrapbook she kept that I passed on.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sat. 12 Cloudy & threatening rain. Make rolls, cake & apple pies. . . Henry takes the Colvins (?) to Camp Windermere. Grace & Helen walk up to Prestons’ at night.
1918: Mon., 12 Write Ben. Sew a little. Advisory Board meet with me. Mrs. Graves Wright & Bristol to discuss Chapter affairs. A hot day. In Grace’s room.
Tues., 13 Quite a good day. Finish a difficult poem. See the East in the morning & 3 bright stars in a row just over the tree tops. Miss Dumas to wash.
(One of the stars was likely Jupiter. I see it every clear morning in the East. I wish I knew which poem she finished.)
Wed., 14 Very hot. Send letters to Ashton, Jeanette & Mrs. Fairfield & an order to Clarkson.
Fri., 16 Cool nights. Cut out little skirts for Baby Margaret & commence them.
(Margaret may be one of Gertrude’s children.)
Sat., 17 Clarence comes to Karls. My books come from the publisher. News from Jeanette & Ben that the Gov. has interceded & Ben will have his furlough which means there will be a wedding after all.
Mon., 19 Bake & get dinner. Not very well. Attend Board meeting as Mrs. Graves to arrange programs for D.A.R. year book. 5 Ladies present. Cool. Clarence & Gertrude go back to Springfield. They start from Henrietta’s.
Tues., 20 Bake all the morning & get dinner. Sew on my dress in the afternoon. Warmer.
Wed., 21 Harvey Goodell comes. This is Ben’s wedding day. Henrietta, Mother & Anna go to Rutland in Norton’s car. Ben goes with Harvey. Tuttle takes Ruth, Helen & me. Buffet lunch at Fairfields about 7 o’clock. Ceremony immediately after. Beautiful decorations. 45 present. Rev. George Peck, Baptist, officiated. I have another daughter. Home by moonlight. Met Karl at the station. Alvin & Anna Whitcomb & wife stand up with Ben & Jeanette. Harvey Goodell is best man.
Thurs., 22 Alvin is stopping with us. Not much doing. Mr. Laughton calls. Write Cora, Ella, Persis & Mrs. Howland. Quite warm. No water.
Fri., 23 Water still cut off. Send poems to 6 people. Mrs. Emerson, Ben Smith’s sister & her husband came from Lowell, Mass. They stay to dinner after which we go to cemetery, Helen & I in the Limocene (sic) & to Burlington & return. We take in Mr. Paulint (?) a friend of theirs home to supper. They stay late & go to the hotel for the night.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Fri., 1 A nice cool morning. Helen & I attend prayer meeting. Raining hard & we get wet. A bay horse to Helen & Abe.
1918: Sun., 1 Walter’s birthday. A beautiful. (sic) Anna & Alvin invite me for a row We go to Allen’s Bay. I catch a pickeral for our dinner. We walk around the bluffs. Pick up. Close the cottage & go home. Mother here. Anna Kingman calls. Karl & H come in to lunch. They take Mother with them.
Sat., 24 I make pies & Anna cake. She & Met go out to Karls after dinner, at which we entertain the Emersons. They go on to New Hampshire. Ben & Jeanette call with the Hingers.
Sun., 25 Quite warm but a beautiful day. Grace & Helen attend church, Ralph Story preaches. Write Ashton. Go to the Cottage for a call. Ben & Jeanette keeping house. Stop for a call at Mrs. Thomas. Met & Anna drive out with Kitty. (Gertrude’s husband is a Thomas)
Mon., 26 Write Gertrude. Can plums cook the crabapples for jelly & make a little sauce. Get the elderberries ready to can, which Met & Anna bring home with them. Make a pie.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Sun., 27 A very hot day. Dr. Will (?) and comes to see Ruth. Stare at (?) all day. No service in our church. Feeling very miserable. The children go up to see Mother Fisher.
1918: Tues., 27 Mrs. Dumas cannot come to wash. Tuttle take (sic) Ruth, Anna & Alvin to the Cottage & brings back Ben & Jeanette. I make a custard pie & get them an early dinner. They go to Rutland & on to Lakewood, N.J. Can Elderberries, corn & make crabapple jelly. Tired. Anna Kingman calls.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Mon., 28 Do some sewing & go to bed sick.
1898: Wed., 28 Grace & Helen wash. I bake beans, brown bread, white bread, apple pies, &tc, Hang the clothes. Mrs. Woodman comes after dinner. Go to the Cottage after supper. More tired. Give Mrs. Woodman “Idylls of Champlain.” Letters from Pearl, Clarissa Howe & Mrs. Howland.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Tues., 29 A large wash, but we get through it. Awful days of heat. Gertrude & I clean out the hen house.
1918: Thurs., 29 A bit of rain in the night which clears into a beautiful day. Tuttle goes to V. and does not return. A quiet day. Mend stocking & read in “The Light in the Clearing” by Irving Bachelor.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Wed. 30 Go to Ben’s for Henrietta. Drive up on Town Hill & see Lizzie Peck. Debbie has given Henrietta some good things.
1918: Fri., 30 A very beautiful day. Finish my book, also the stocking mending. Tuttle comes at night. Do nothing but rest. Letter from Ella Tullar (or Fuller?)
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Thurs. 31 Another terrible day. Finish the ironing. The air is suffocating & the parched & thirsty earth is like a huge furnace. James Benton walks into the kitchen looking for Helen.
1918: Sat., 31 Tuttle goes home & returns early. A heavy rain toward night & all night nearly. Mend, read & look over church history. Ruth gets the meals & Anna does the dishes. Damp, damp.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sat. 2 Henry goes to Burlington to see Dr. Friniel (or Triniel).
1918: Mon., 2 A nice day. Can a bushel of corn. Tired. Sew a little. Write Mrs. Hindes and Mrs. Watkins. Met & Anna go to Poultney. Grace & Helen getting ready to go away. Letter from Jeanette. Tuttle goes to Bristol & return.
Tues., 3 Miss Dumas washes & mops. Anna comes home. Tuttle & Grace go after Mother. Sew, &tc.
Filed under: 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum, Homeland in the North, Poems
Wed., 4 Sew for Grace. Helen goes to Harrington Park, N.J. to teach school. Poor Helen. She has gone out alone once more. Watch the train as it speeds away into the night. Henrietta calls. Mrs. Woodman calls.
She wrote this poem years later, perhaps remembering–though she put her children on trains many times:
THE NIGHT EXPRESS
Like the sweep of the wind in the tree tops
With a lonely sobbing sound,
Rushing away in the distance
With a tremor that shakes the ground,
The night express at the crossing
Is sending a warning bray
Across the moonlit meadows
As it rolls on its mission away.
Tonight it carries a passenger,
One of my very own,
It leaves me a bit of a heartache
As I sit in the shadows alone . . .
The sweep of the wind grows fainter
As the wheels roll on and on,
“Til the train that has taken my loved one
Into the silence has gone.
(June 16, 1929)
Wed., 11 A frost–the first one. Kills squashes & cucumber vines & touches the tuberoses. Lucy & Jennie go after dinner. Write Gertrude. Mrs. Milo Crosby buried.
Thurs., 5 Cloudy & looks like rain. Did not rest well last night. Can another bushel of corn. A bushel fills 9 pt. cans. Our wheat lies out in the field. There isn’t much help. Grace goes to Boston and its poor Grace too. Write Caroline Clark Hinton & Mrs. Wattrous. LeJoie calls. Tuttle warns him out of the house.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1898: Thurs. 7: Ruth goes in the rain. Tuttle drives her to the Station. She takes the sleeper to NJ. This is a sad world but in a living separation there is hope. Put up preacher. Tuttle gets a basket.
1918: Sat., 7: Quite cool. Clears off. Mrs. Watkins sends regrets that she cannot come next week & after consultation with Mrs. Graves I talk with her. She will come.
Sun., 8 Clouds clearing away. I plan to attend Church but on account of the law, which forbids car riding Sunday, I stay at home. Anna attends. Write Grace & Helen. Pick some tender dandelions for greens. Ruth packs a tier of wood in the shed. Mrs. Crosby dies of shock.
Mon., 9 A perfect day, just right & sunshine. Anna gets ready for Rutland & goes on the afternoon train. Tuttle goes to Bristol & return.
Tues., 10 Mrs. Dumas comes to wash. A sprinkle of rain & lots of clouds. Make up beds clear out sweep & dust. Lucy & Jennie comes after dinner. Mrs. & Mr. Frank Warner brings them. Letters from Gertrude, Ben & Anna. Take up some tuberoses & cover up a few things.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Tues 12 Send Ruth a pair of good shears for her birthday.
1918: Thurs., 12 Cloudy & chill. Iron. Ruth & I finish it. Attend Chapter meeting with Mrs. Graves. The State Regent present & talks to us. I hope they all like her. I cannot help it, for she is likable (sic).
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Tues., 19 Ironing is finished by Helen in the evening. Go after Grace because of the cool change in the weather & guess I will let some one else go after this. It will give her a chance to find fault with him. (or them?)
(Teenage daughters were the same in 1899 as now, I guess.)
1918: Thurs., 19 A better day. Dry the remnant of the wash. Make sweet pickles. Letters from Grace, Helen, Gertrude & Crosbys card. Anna goes to the library. Tuttle finishes Church History for me on the typewriter. Write Gertrude.
Sat., 14 Some sunshine. A comfortable day. Letters from Hattie, Helen Simmonds & Frank Frost & Mother. Make bread & pies. Dress & cook chicken. Can 2 pts. tomatoes Ruth cans 2 pts raspberries. Work on Church History afternoon. Rolls for supper. Letters from Anna & Bert Wentworth.
Sun., 15 A lovely Sept day. Cannot attend Church. Chicken dinner. Karl & H come after church & stay until after lunch. Henrietta drives me over to the Cemetery. We put sweet peas on the graves. Write Ben. We see Mrs. Merril who goes to Panton & is married at the M.E. Parsonage to Robert Mulholland.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sat. 16 Gertrude sick in bed to-day.
1918: Mon., 16 Another beautiful day. Write to Ada Crosby & a card to Anna. Make 2 pies & Ruth makes a cake. Finish Church History. Cut a pumpkin, which Tuttle brought from Bristol. Cut apples to dry.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sun. 17 What a disappointment is life! What a sad, bitter thing it is, to be unequally yoked to-gether. I do not attend church but send the children. Go up to see Mother Fisher toward night. The ride does me good & I feel stronger to bear the sad burden of life. (in margin) Gertrude a little better.
1918: Tues., 17 Rain. Miss Dumas to wash & clean up. Anna comes before breakfast. It is 50 years today since the Baptist Church was organized with 9 members. Afternoon meeting of the Church, supper & addresses in the evening. I go down after supper & read the Church history which I have ready. Not well to day. Letter from Ben. Write Miss Ripple. Send book to her & E.M. Bartlett.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Wed. 20 Gertrude goes for Grace.
1918: Fri., 20 Write Helen. Rain, rain, rain. Can 2 baskets of peaches. 15 qt. cans. Read in “Rhymes of a Red Cross Man.” Robert Service. Karl & H go to Burlington. Anna goes to the library.
Wed., 18 Make 2 pumpkin pies. Anna irons & goes to the library after dinner. More rain. Get in the wet clothes to dry in the house. Cut large cucumbers for pickles & more apples to dry.
Wed., 2 Clouds. Letter from Hattie. Iron. Sort papers & letters. Sell the Day house to Dashaw. Receive $25 down & to receive $5.00 per month till the whole $800 is paid.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Thurs., 21 Some rain. Attend prayer meeting: a good meeting. Get groceries. Foster (?) & Benjamin go after Grace.
1918: Sat., 21 Clouds, a rift of sunshine now and then. Our first fire of chunks (?) Anna goes to library A.M. Make marmalade & pumpkin pie. Write Grace. Anna packs a box for Helen.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Fri., 22 Make bread, pies, &tc. Put up pears. Go down to Ashton’s. Get there at dark, half frozen & find the house full.
1918: Sun., 22 Clouds & a little sunshine. Karl & H to dinner. They & Anna attend church. I write Hattie, Ben, Marnie Kent, Mrs. Hindes, Helen & Mother & card to LeRoy Phillips.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sat. 23 Ben comes this morning. We go out on the Lake trolling. Debbie catches an immense pickerel & gets a wounded hand. A man’s foes are they of his own household.
1918: Mon., 23 Adams threshes out a little wheat. (damp) More rain. Mrs. Yattaw comes to tell me they are going to Springfield, Mass. In arrears for rent $19. Anna at the library. Letter from Grace. Tuttle goes to Bristol & return.
Tues., 8 Write Ben & Jeanette. Invest $25 in war savings stamps. Miss Dumas washes & cleans out Tuttle’s room. A nice day after a heavy frost. Ruth picks apples. Bert Preston gives us 3 ducks which we pick & dress. Pick a large dish raspberries for supper. Letter from Marnie Kent.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: Sun. 24 I am glad of this rest day but even this day is subject to the same blight. No one can ever depend on a man. No one can ever tell what moment they will turn again & rend you. Beware of a man. Cloudy & dark. Attend church. (This is the last entry in 1899.)
1918: Tues., 24 More rain. Miss Dumas washes. Letter from Gertrude. Nearly clean out the garage. the clothes dry eough to iron. Anna at the Library.
Filed under: 1899 Ella's diary, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1899: In memoranda section:
Bay Rum
1 pt. alcohol
1 pt. water
5 cents worth oil of bay
Camphorated oil
sweet oil & camphor gum
Pledges
To church toward our debt 100
To foreign missions (?) per week.
Phelps pub co. When the man Springfield runs the farm.
Am Agriculturalist Items returned.
1918: Wed., 25 Have a heart attack before dinner & haver to stay in bed. Letters from Ben & J. Helen & Mrs. Hindes. Anna brings me Arthur Chapman’s pomes “Out Where the West Begins.”
Thurs., 26 Keep rather still. Henrietta sends me some elderberries, I pick them off the stems. Rains all day. Dark & dreary. Cut a pumpkin. Our first coal fire. Read in the evening.
Fri., 27 A cool wind, clouds. Make a pumpkin & berry pie. Put up 3 pts elderberries. A bit warmer at night. We all read in the evening. Anna makes cookies. Write Grace. Finish “Ballads of a Chuchako” (sic) by Robert Service.
Sat., 28 Make rolls & a pumpkin pie. Wash windows &tc. Read &tc. The girls get 2 bushels of butternuts. There is a terrible epidemic of Spanish influenza all over the country.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Henry Fisher married Ella Warner in 1870. Since 1899 ended with so much tension, here are the entries from Henry’s 1870 diary for the autumn and winter. He calls Ella “Nell.”
Henry 1870: Thurs., Oct. 6 Worked down to house some to day. Thought of Nell all day.
(Earlier entries from Henry Fisher’s 1870 diary are available in the archive. This diary is in the Stewart-Swift Research Center of the Henry Sheldon Museum, and is blogged with their kind permission.)
Ella, 1918: Sun., 6 Rain all day. The pig’s yard is a lake & Tuttle puts him in the barn cellar. Lie in bed to day. Read “The Major,” by Ralph W Connor.
Sun., 29 Sun shines at intervals. Quite cool. Anna attends church & Karl & H come home with her. Children all take a stroll after dinner. Anna goes home with them after lunch. Write Ben & Jeanette & Helen & Gertrude. Hattie’s birthday. Karl & Tuttle bring my desk downstairs & put it in Henry’s room.
Mon., 30 Sort papers & pick up. Mend &tc. Tuttle goes to Bristol & return. Anna walks out from Karl’s to the Library. Bulgaria sues for peace. Letter from Helen Simonds. Church. Dress & clean a hen.
Tues., 1 Miss Dumas comes to wash. We get the glass cabinet from 3d floor to my room. Sort papers &tc. Letters from Helen, Grace, Ben & Jeanette. Mix bread. A beautiful day.
Thurs., 3 Karl & H go to the Lake for their annual outing. Anna all day at the Library. The days go by, & (is well?) I do not work.
Fri., 11 A good day. Mrs. Mulholland calls. Can beets & prepare mustard pickles. Ruth picks apples & Tuttle digs potatoes. Send a book Rev. R.H. Sherman & Ruth M. Fisher of Addison. Karl & H at the Cottage. It is their wedding anniversary, 1913.
Fri., 4 A pleasant day after a heavy frost. Anna at the LIbrary. Ruth goes down street in the afternoon. Send book to Marnie Kent. Enterprise to Mr. Bartlett & five of the children containing church history. A little chat with Mrs. Wright. Adams finishes our grain. 35 bu of wheat, 80 of mixed grain. Receive pension.
Sat. 5 Rains all day. Make pies, barberry jelly, &tc. Not feeling well. Grace comes on the late train. Library closes. Anna invited to supper at Fish’’s.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Fri., Oct. 7 Pleasant to day. Father and boys went down to the lake, went out home with Nell after (?)
1918–Ella: Mon., 7 Clears off. A man brings hen at 75 cents each. Grace not well. Tuttle goes to Bristol & return. Wite Ashton & Hattie. Bert Wentworth & Henry Crocker. Pres. Vt. Bap. Historical Society. Send him our church history. Cards to Effie Collins & Rev. Bartlett. Not very well. Bottle grape juice, which turns to jelly. Colder.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870, Henry: Sun., Oct 9 Went up home today. Not very well to day. Went out to Nell in the eve had a good time.
1918, Ella: Wed., 9 Anna & I do some clearning out. Mr. Berry drives up from Basin Harbor & stays to dinner. Katherine Knight & Mrs. Ted Fish up to supper. Ruth working too hard. Picks apples. Tuttle commences to dig potatoes. They are rotting. Baked duck. A nice day. Save 7 cans of tomatoes & start grape juice. (sic) Letter from Rev R.H. Sherman.
Thurs., 10 A nice day. Tuttle digs a row of potatoes. Ruth picks apples. I roast ducks. Anna & I put up 7 cans tomatoes. Start making grape juice. Dr. Carrol has to go into service. Dr. Waterman down with influenza.
Sat., 12 A good day but a high wind. Mr. Berry comes to dinner. Brings a pickerel weighing 10 lbs dressed. PIck raspberries for supper. Make rolls & a custard pie. Mr. Berry goes at 4 P.M. to stop with Mr. Pernden (?) on his way home. Ruth finishes picking the paples. Tuttle has a hard cold. 75 cases of Spanish influenza at State School.
Sun., 13 Clouds. Letter from Mr. Bartlett. Write Helen, Gertrude, Mrs. HIndes, LeRoy Phillips & card to Mrs. Mattison. Baked fish dinner.
Mon. 14 Ashton’s birthday, Tuttle goes to Bristol & returns. News of terrible fires in Wisconsin & Minnesota. The fighting still goes on in France & hundreds are dying all over the country of Spanish Influenza. Karl & H go home from the Cottage. Heavy North wind. Fish again today. Take up dahlias, etc.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Sun., Oct. 15, 1870–Henry: Henry I love you to night.
Tues. 15, 1918–Ella: Miss Dumas comes to wash. She sweeps my room. I spend some time in it & regulate the hall bookcase. Letters from Ben & Jeanette. Card from Effie Collins. A nice day. Ruth husking corn. Tuttle digs some potatoes. Anna & Grace walk out to Ben’s. Cold hard wind.
Sat., 16 Make bread, rolls & pies. Mrs. Miller comes on noon train. Mr. T & Anna meet the train. Knit. A hazy, mild day. Mrs. Miller & Anna have supper with the Episcopal rector, Mr. Jones.
Sun., 17 Ruth, Anna & Mrs. Miller attend church. Rain after dinner. Henrietta out in the rain with Mrs. Coty on the Baptist Mission drive. Comes in to lunch, also Karl comes after noon. Mrs. Miller goes to Rutland. Read. Write Hattie & Ben & J Mrs. Fairfield & Ben & J.
Fri., 15 Another good day. Have slight heart attack. Ruth goes downtown after dinner. I go out doors for a little while.
Filed under: Poems
No diary entries for this date for either Henry or Ella. Here’s a poem instead:
TINTED DREAMS
Dreams, tinted dreams
Of a far-a-way past
Out of some lost night’s shore!
Shapes like the rooms
Of a far-a-way house,
Rooms I shall see nevermore!
Memories rising
Like mists from the deep!
Faces I once have known!
Voices of dear ones
Arising from sleep
Out of the days that have flown!
Dreams, tinted dreams
That fade with the light!
Recession of slow drifting years!
Loves that are lost
In the stillness of night
And the well of forgotten tears!
This was published in The Vermonter: The State Magazine, in the June/July issue, 1934
Wed. 16 A day of haze. The colors are beautiful. Letter from Howard (?) Tuttle takes us for a ride & leaves Anna & Ruth in Frisbee’s walnut orchard. They have a visit with Mr. & Mrs. Herbert Burroughs.
Fri., 18 Cold raw wind to day. Girls go after nuts. I take up the rest of the geraniums. Mrs. Wright’s daughter, Ardelle & her husband McNeil, buried at one grave in Charlotte. Influenza caused the deaths. Letter from Mrs. Hindes. Write Mrs. Wright. Cut chemise for Grace.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Henry, 1870–Wed., Oct 19 Was married to-day. Went to Burlington. Stayed to American Hotel all night. Arrived at B at 1/2 past 8 evening. H
(Henry often initials or signs his diary entries.)
Ella–1918: Sat. 19 Heavy frost last night. A beautiful day. Grace goes back to Waltham, Mass on noon train. Letter from Ashton. Henry & I were married 48 years ago to day. It was a beautiful day like this. Anna makes me an Anniversary cake & goes to help out Mrs. Farrar, who has 2 children with whooping cough. Letter Mrs. Hindes.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry–Thurs., Oct. 20 Left B at 1/4 past 7 at Essex 1/2 past 7 at Montpelier 1/4 past 9 arrived when arrived there went up to State House in afternoon. Rained a little. (punctuation his)
1918–Ella–Sun. 20 No church service anywhere. Karl, Henrietta & Anna come to dinner. Chicken & pumpkin pie. Read, visit with the children, but write no letters. Henrietta takes home some plants & apples, brings cabbage & milk. Rains.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Henry–1870–Fri., Oct. 21 Pleasant. took a morning walk around citty up to State House In between sun. (?) he introduced us to Gov. Went down to cemetary in afternoon. Called on (?) evening. . .
Ella–1918–Mon., 21 Cool. Some sunshine. Send apples to Ben & Helen. Write Ashton & Hattie, W. Warner & Free Press.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Sat., Oct. 22 Took train to Burlington 8 am arrived 10 am stayed to City Hotel. Left Burlington 3-30 arrived Vergennes (?) pm. .
1918–Ella: Tues., 22 Clears off. Mrs. Dumas washes, cleans up & sweeps Tuttle’s room. Anna comes up to dinner.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Sun. Oct. 23 Took a tramp across to creek. Arrived stayed to Father Warner all night. Henry.
1918–Ella: Wed. 23 Iron. Ruth goes down street. Take away hen yard fence in the afternoon sunshine. It is strenuous work for me. Letters from Jeanette, Irena & Free Press manager. Anna up to dinner with Helen & Gertrude. Send out 2 messages. Adventure & Designer.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Mon. Oct. 24 Went down home in afternoon with Nell. Went down in eve to see Sidney M. southern (?) got buck horns (?) 8 in (?) Brought buck up home. (Henry has terrible handwriting.)
1918–Ella: Thurs., 24 A lovely day. Not feeling well. Boiled dinner. Anna up. Send book to the Free Press. Henrietta takes me for a ride. We drive around throughWest Ferrisburg. Stop at the small cemetery & drive into the old yard of the place where I was born.
This is a photo of Ella’s birthplace that I found in another diary. It’s obviously abandoned. I can’t help but wonder if it was taken on the day of this diary entry.
Sat., 26 Rain in the morning. Warm & lovely. Beans & brown bread, pumpkin pie & rolls. Got tired. Read & write in the afternoon. Stop the clocks one hour tonight. Anna home to dinner & supper.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Fri., 25 A nice warm day, but clouds. Baked mackerel & custard pie for dinner. Anna up. Send 6 books Helen & the D.A.R. year books to Mrs. Gray. (sic) Dress 2 chickens. Rains in the evening.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Henry–1870: Thurs., Oct 27 Commenced making (Line free?) today. Rained in the evening. Nell & I (?) after going to Burlg.
Ella–1918: Sun., 27 A nice warm day. Karl, Henrietta & Anna up to dinner. Chicken & pumpkin pie. Visit with the children & read. The new time begins today an hour later. Write Ben & Grace. Letters from Ben & Jeanette. No church.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry–Fri., Oct. 28 Made (line free?) until we finished at noon. Father W went to citty & looked around all afternoon. . .
1918–Ella: Mon., 28 Anna up to dinner & supper. Tuttle goes to Bristol & Ruth rides out to Ben’s. Chicken & pumpkin pie. Make some wreaths for the cemetery. Write Mrs. Watkins, send her 2 year books & one to Mrs. Wright. Out to Karl’s after supper. Letter from Grace. Write Mrs. Hindes.
Tues., 29 Miss Dumas comes to wash. A cloudy day & rain at night. Henrietta comes out & Anna who comes home to dinner, goes after Ruth with Col. Send yearbook to Mrs. Hindes. Anna does not return to Mr. Farrar’s.
Wed., 30 Rains all day. Make a pumpkin pie. Poor bread. Anna comes home to stay (sic) & Ruth iron. I pick up, &tc.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Henry: 1870–Mon. Oct 31 Went to store from Ferrisburg to day. (Quiet) in morning. Milked cow to house. Blacked stove to house. Had a gay time with Bill Sherlock (?). . .
Ella: 1918–Thurs.,31 Rain. Karl comes out & takes the apples to the cider mill. Anna goes to the station to meet Mrs. Miller, who does not come. Finish 2 little petticoats for Marguerite. Sew for Grace. Make 2 mince pies. Anna goes to meet Eva Meigs, on nothing. (sic)
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Henry: 1870–Tues., Nov 1 Worked down to house some to day. Nell came out in the evening & went out home with her after shut the stove.
Ella: 1918: Fri., 1 Growing a bit cool. Tuttle builds up the furnace fire. Send small skirts to Gertrude, sew a little for Grace. Letter from Hattie.
Sat. 2 Quite a little cooler. Work in pantry & make it look fine. Make rolls & apple pie. Cook chicken for tomorrow. Send letter to Helen.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Thurs., Nov. 3 In store today. Worked hard to day. Thought of Nell.
1918–Ella: Sun., 3 Churches open today. Karl, H & Anna attend & come up to dinner. Scallop oysters for supper.
(The churches had been closed due to the Spanish flu.)
Mon., 4 Letters to Gertrude, Grace & Hattie. Work on pantry shelves. Knit. Tuttle goes to Bristol & return. Library opens & Anna goes to work.
Tues. 5 Miss Dumas to wash & clean up. Sweeps Tuttle’s room & cleans cellar stairs.
Thurs., 7 A cold wind all day. Karl takes his blooded calf to Basin Harbor. News of peace, cessation of hostilities cause ringing of bells, blowing of whistles! Bonfires, parades & rejoicing. All proves to be a fake. Finish pantry shelves.
Fri. 8 Wash 3 windows. Sun shines. Karl brings a bbl of cider from Macks (sic) Heads up apples. 3 barrels Ben Davis for Noonan & a big sugar bbl for Gertrude. He taps the cider & takes apples to the Station. Mend, knit, etc. Custard pie & baked mackerel for dinner. Receive Hindley’s criticism of Idylls of Champlain. Last Battalion poem in Free Press.
Sat., 9 Wind & clouds. Dark early. I make rolls, pumpkin pie, cake & doughnuts. Give the remnant of the Ben Davis apples to the McIntirres (sic). Anna in the Library in the forenoon. A heart attack after dinner.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Thurs., Nov. 10 Nell came to store in morning. She went down to Panton to her uncle Eds (?) and he (took?) her (back) but she did not come.
1918–Ella: Sun., 10 Ruth & Anna attend church. Karl & H to dinner. Visit & finish reading “The Sage Riders.” “Song of the Socks” wins a prize of some yarn in The New York Sun. (The link is a whole book of poems about knitting socks for soldiers!)
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Fri., Nov. 11 Thought of Nell all day after ( ?) She came in store at 5 p.m.
1918–Ella: Mon., 11 Ruth washes 6 windows & I wash two. A fine clear day. The victory bells peal out all day. Peace declared & Germans surrender. The Kaiser has abdicated & fled to Holland. This is a wonderful day. Go down after dinner to see the parade. Bonfires & celebration until midnight. Write Grace, Gertrude & Helen.
Tues., 12 Miss Dumas to wash & clean up. Washes shed & porch windows. Letters from Grace & Ada Bristol. Write Grace.
Thurs. 14 Some rain last night. 4 lbs of butter fromn two. Letters from Gertrude & Mrs. Hindes. Write to Stanley Braithwaite The Farmer. Ben & Jeanette take care of bulbs, slips &tc. Make a good apple pie. Finish “Rainbow Trail.” Send birthday box to Grace.
Mon., 18 Rain. Not feeling well. Attend D.A.R. meeting at Dr. Rogers. Go to see Mrs. Bristol & ride home with Tuttle. Write Gertrude. Heart attack after supper. Rain in bucketsful.
Filed under: 1918 Ella's Diary, Clippings, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Tues., 19 Mrs. Dumas washes & cleans up. Clouds & rain. Write Helen. Knit a little, mend a little. Not feeling well. Bridges swept away in some places.
WOMEN’S LEAGUE
New Society Made Up Of Baptist Church Ladies
At a meeting of the ladies of the Baptist church on Wednesday afternoon, held at the home of Mrs. William A. Dalrymple, a society, known as the Women’s League of the Baptist church was organized, and officers elected as follows: President, Mrs. Ella W. Fisher; vice-president, Mrs. William L. Cotey; secretary, Mrs. Karl Field; treasurer, Mrs. W. A. Dalrymple. the object of the league is the promotion of general good fellowship, mission work, both home and foreign, and to give financial aid to the church. The meetings will be held monthly at the home of the members, and a missionary program will be arranged for each meeting. All ladies of the church and congregation are invited to attend the meetings.
(a newspaper clipping pasted in one of Ella’s scrapbooks, dated Nov. 19, 1919)
Wed., 20 Sodden clouds. Some rain. Sodden ground. Finish my long wrist mittens. Receive a “hank of yarn” for a poem in the Sun’s sock contest. Letter from Gertrude. Copy some work on the typewriter. Write to W. S. Braithwaite & H. L. Hindley. Send book to the former.
Thurs., 21 Sodden clouds, a little rain. Sew a little. Finish “When a Man’s a Man” by Wright. Write (sic)
Fri., 22 Snow flurries on the mountains & sun breaks through toward noon. Letters to Plattsburg Republican Digest & Herbert S. Cauley.
Sat., 23 Make white bread, Graham bread & apple pies. Mend &tc. Growing cold. Tuttle puts last of the apples in the cellar. News from Ben. He is transferred & on his way to Texas with Jeanette.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1900 Ella's diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Henry: Thurs., Nov. 24 Went home to THanksgiving had a splendid supper. Went back to Ferrisburgh in eve. (Notice that Henry uses the “h” in Ferrisburgh. Ella never does.)
Ella: Sun., 24 Anna & Ruth attend church. Karl & H up to dinner. I go home with them. Anna & Kate Dalrymple go out for signers to Baptist pledges. Read &tc.
Mon., 2 Cold & cloudy. Do some typewriting. Write Grace and Edward Perine. Letters from Ben & Helen Simonds. Tuttle goes to Bristol.
Mon., 25 A cool dark day. Have a nice visit with Henrietta. Crotchet on medallions. Write Grace, Gertrude. Tuttle comes for me at night & we take Anna in at the Library. Write Anna & Gertrude.
Tues., 26 Miss Dumas washes & cleans up. Sweeps my room. Write Helen, Ella Fuller, LeRoy Phillips. Send check for the Enterprise. Cold. Walk down to see Mrs. Middlebrook. Letter from Grace. Tuttle puts up storm room partition.
Wed., 27 A bit warmer. Make rolls, graham bread, butter & cherry pie. Letter from Gertrude.
(At last, real butter–not 2 lbs from one! I presume that’s why she underlined it.)
Thurs., 28 We go out to Karl’s, Anna, Tuttle & I. Ruth stays at home. Henrietta has a fine dinner. This is the most wonderful Thanksgiving in history because the war is ended. Letter from Ashton at Daytona.
Fri., 29 A bit of sun in the morning but cold, sodden clouds the rest of the day. Letter from Ben at New Orleans. Russel Gonyea plows the Potter lot. Letter from Ben & Jeanette.
Sat., 30 Make bread, pies, &tc. Irish stew with dumplings for dinner. Pay Arthur Booth milk bill $2.72. After this we can have it only occasionally.
Sun., 1 Cold. Wind & snow from the north. Clears away and sun comes out. Read most of the day. Write Ben & Jeanette. Henrietta & Karl do not come out. Roast of lamb for dinner.
Tues., 3 Miss Dumas comes to wash. Water turned off all day. She sweeps Tuttle’s room. He goes to Middlebury & return. Warmer. A burst of sunshine, very transient. Got Mrs. Warner & Mrs. R. McCuen to go to Burlington for the Chapter. Letter from Ben to Tuttle. Write Gertrude. Dr. Waterman to see Anna.
Wed., 4 State Conference of D.A.R. in Burlington. Snowing hard from the north. Not much doing, just the regular work. Write Helen.
Thurs., 5 Storm clears away. Quite cold. Tuttle goes to Middlebury but returns at night. Letter from Edith Bartlett containing obituary of her father. Ruth goes downtown with Helen Simonds & Mrs. Hindes. Letter from Hattie.
Fri., 6 Cold. Snow. Tuttle goes to Middlebury in the morning. Ruth does chores & goes for the mail. I take care of the furnace. Anna about the same. Mend stockings.
Sat., 7 Cold. Make rolls, butter & mince pie. Ruth makes cake & apple pie. Heart attack. Tuttle comes home from Middlebury. Letter from Beth Hildreth.
Filed under: 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum, Photos
Sun., 15 Karl & Henrietta up to dinner. We have roast ducks. Met takes us to the cemetery & we leave a wreath on each grave. Write Ben, Helen & Persis & Frank. Anna quite unwell.
Sun., 8 No one attends church. Karl & H attend the Ainson(?) funeral. H comes to dinner & Karl comes after going to Middlebury as pall bearer. Read. Growin warmer. Letter from Mrs. Hindes. Write Hattie, & Ben & Jeanette.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Fri., Dec. 9 In store all day. Father carried aunt & uncle of St. (Laurince?) county to (?) left Nell to (Stern & ?) out home had a good time. O Nell how I love you.
1918–Ella: Mon., 9 Rather mild. Tuttle goes to Bristol & from there to Middlebury. Karl comes up–sweeps out barn & hen house. Write Warner, Stanley Braithwaite, S.S. Times. Card to Herbert B. Phillips & Benoit go into the double house. pay $2.25. (punctuation sic)
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Sat., Dec. 10 (Mr. Sauttainall??) came up to day on early train in morning. . . Gro half in store to day. Marked goods all day.
1918–Ella: Tues., 10 Quite cool. Miss Dumas washes mops dining room cleans out bath room. I mend up an old dress, do some cleaning. Write some letters to the Globe, Mr. Wheeler, to whom I send clipping of Mr. Bartlett’s death. Letter to Miss Harris. Tuttle comes from Middlebury. Letters from Ben, Grace, Gertrude & Ella Tullar. Write Grace & Gertrude.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Saturday, Dec. 17–Henry: worked hard to day
1918–Tues., 17–Ella: Miss Dumas washes & cleans up. Ruth irons. Anna & Met go to Burlington. Make head cheese, bread & apple pie. Write W.S. Braithwaite regarding poem “America in the War.” Send Mrs. Carrie Nortons D.A.R. papers of Miss Evylin (sic) Wright. Card to Effie Collier. Letter from Grace, Gertrude & Mrs. Fairfield. Finish packing pork. Send Helen S 4 books.
Wed., 11 Herbert Burroughs brings 2 boxes of butter, $6.40. 64 cents per lb. Stubby Holcomb comes after dinner & butchers the pig, which weighs 198 lbs. Rains.
Thurs., 12 Letter from Helen Simonds. She is to have her tonsils removed at Mary Fletcher. Henrietta entertains the Red Cross. I am not feeling well today.
(I think Helen Simonds is her sister.)
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870, Tues., Dec. 13–Henry: Worked hard to day.
1918–Ella: Fri., 13 Karl & H come & cut up the pig. Help me sort & cut up the lard & sausage. Send for 25 books. Met comes from Texas. He has his discharge. Tuttle & Anna meet him at the station. Churn. Send 4 books to Shaning (?) and 6 to Warner.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Tues., Dec. 14 worked hard to day
1918–Ella: Sat., 14 Anna & Met in the library till noon. He takes the car & goes after her. I make rolls, Graham bread, mince & apple pies. Try out & take care of the lard. 19 1/4 lbs. Tuttle grinds the sausage I season & ball it. 16 1/4 lbs. Letter from Helen. Bert Preston gives me 3 ducks, which we pick & dress.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
Henry: Fri., 16, 1870–worked hard to day
Ella: Mon., 16, 1918– Make brine & pack hams. Pack part of the pork. Clean the pig’s heart. Type “America in the War.” nearly 5 pages. 25 books from LeRoy Phillips. Letters from Abe, Mother & Jeanette.
Wed. 18 Send a Christmas pck to Ben & Jeanette. Met goes to Springfield, Mass. at noon. A nice day. Helen comes on 10-20 train at night. Anna & I sit up for her. Send “America in the War” to W. Stanley Braithwaite.
Thurs., 26 Still snowing. More deaths from influenza. Miss Welch, a friend of Ruth’s, up to dinner. Miss Cornelia Jocelyn dead.
Fri., 27 Quite cool dark & cloudy. Mrs. Middlebrook dead. Cut out & sew an outing nightdress for Grace. Mrs. Jones calls on Anna. Ruth goes up to Booths–gets 2 qts milk. I work in the corn house a short time. Fred Booth, son of Carrie Barnes, dies of tuberculosis.
Thurs. 19 A beautiful sunny day. Go out for an hour in the afternoon. Ruth & Helen go down town & ride home with Tuttle. Sew a little. Send (?) to Ashton at Daytona. Have a slight heart attack. Make rolls.
Fri., 20 A lovely day. Helen goes to Burlington & return. Go out for an hour. Cut out 2 aprons & work on one. Finish & wash bibs for Gertrude’s children.
Sat., 21 A lovely day. Make Graham bread & pies. Finish apron for Gertrude. Go out for an hour. Letter from Hattie. This is the shortest day of the year & one of the nicest. Library closed on account of influenza.
Sun., 22 Henrietta attends church, but Karl not well. comes here. She rides up with Tuttle. Card from Susie Heald.
Mon., 23 Make bread &tc. Clean & dress the two red roosters. Each weights 6 3/4 lbs. Write several letters. Send box to Gertrude. Ruth & Helen go down street. send books to Mrs. Jodoin Edgar, Emma MacKenzie, & Mrs. Havens. Victrola comes for Tuttle from Clarksons.
Filed under: 1870 Henry, 1918 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum
1870–Henry: Sunday, Dec. 25 Nell & I went to church to day. Pleasant but (?) Had a chicken for supper. a splendid (??) (Mother W is a good cook) (parentheses his)
This is the last entry in Henry’s diary.
1918–Ella: Wed., 25 Christms Day with clouds & snow. Roast chicken & plenty of everything for dinner. Karl & H & their man David, out. We have a nice day & lots of good music.
Tues., 24 Miss Dumas comes to wash. Sweeps my room & bath room. Girls sweep & I pick up. Grace comes on midnight train Miss D mop dining room We have music & cards of greeting from friends & gifts &tc. Snowing. Make pies. Ruth makes cake (punctuation sic)
Sat., 28 Not feeling well. Make bread & pies. Ruth attends Miss Welch’s wedding at the Steven’s House. Letter from Ashton. Miss Dumas family, the Blakeleys, have influenza.
Sun., 29 A cool day. Karl & H come to dinner. Mrs. Middlebrook buried. Carried to the Carpenter cemetery in Monkton. Read “Mr. Pratt” by Joseph Lincoln. Helen goes back to Harrington Park on thge 10-20 train. Poor Helen!
Mon., 30 Quite cold. Sew on Grace’s nightdress, pick up &tc. Write Gertrude. Send cards of thanks to several people. Grace does some fine cooking. Mr. & Mrs. Woodman, Lieut. Stainton & Louisa come & spend the evening. Music & refreshments make the call pleasant.
Tues., 31 Moderating. Some snow. Finish Grace’s nightdress & do some repairing. Write some business letters & words to members of the D.A.R. Make rolls.
This is the last day of the year. I plan to take a close grip on the pulse of things for another year if I am spared. This year has seen the publication of the little vol. “Idylls of Champlain.” I can make no new resolves. I can only take the close grip and work for results. This year marks the close of the war & it marks the stalking abroad of the terrible death angel in the shape of the Black Plague called Influenza.
Filed under: 1924 Ella's Diary
Ella will turn 71 this month. I’ve only just started work on this diary, so there’s much I don’t know about her life now.
Tues., 1 A big wind last night and a beautiful bright New Year’s day. Quite cool. I finish Ruth’s apron & make a pumpkin pie. Ruth & Helen go on the noon train. Helen Simonds sends me a pair of silk stockings. Letters from Cora Barrows & Anna. Alvin (Anna’s husband) is not well. Write Mrs. Ida Warner, Helen Simonds & Cora Barron. Also a subscription renewal for Enterprise for self & Ben & one for Ashton $4.50. Also close my church subscription to the church with $5.00 and send a check for gingham for Henrietta $4.98.
Wed., 2 Mend a little. Grace & I attend a Chapter meeting at Gussie Norton’s & also the anniversary of Donald Norton’s marriage and Mrs. Donald & young daughter help entertain. Mrs. Hindes is well enough to be present. I go into the library. Walking very slippery. Tuttle attends a Bank meeting in Middlebury. Our program is a book review.
Thurs., 3 Snow & rain nearly all day. Dumas washes. An immense wash & she packs it into pans to hang tomorrow. Not feeling very well. Finish reading Bertha Oppenheim’s book “Winged Seeds”. Read Archibald Marshall’s book of short stories “The Clinton Twins.” Mend, &tc. Cynthia & Mr. Foote call. Grace serves tea.
Fri., 4 Hang out the clothes. Tuttle helps. Make an apple pie. Letter from Jeanette & Lady Ann, Ruth & Helen Simonds. Iron part of our big wash. Grace goes down street after dinner. Write Mrs. Coolidge in the evening. Mrs. Dick Kingsland buried. She died of shock after a long period of ill health.
I don’t know if this Mrs. Coolidge was the President’s wife. Not unlikely, I think.
Sat., 5 Make pies for tomorrow & finish the big ironing. Dumas cleans out all the chambers, after our dear Christmas guests & makes up the beds clean & fresh for the next who may come. Not feeling well. Dr. Phelps comes to see me.
Sun., 6 Karl, Henrietta & Warner come to dinner. They do not attend church. A fresh snow makes a white world out of doors. Write the 6 absent children. Read & listen to a good sermon by radio from the Shadyside Presbyterian at Pittsburg, Pa. Sermon by Hugh Thompson Kerr. I imagine he must be in the 60’s, not a young man. (He was 52.) Henrietta brings me some fresh pork and liver. Grace attends church.
Mon., 7 Cut a dress for Grace from Jersey tubing and settle down to the business of dress making in earnest. Grace goes down town.
Tues., 8 Dumas comes to wash. Cleans up in the shed, kitchen, &tc. Sew on Grace’s dress. Make a custard pie. Mr. Eddy calls in the afternoon.
Wed., 9 Put in all the time I can on Grace’s dress and finish it. Grace & I attend the annual meeting of the Women’s League at Mrs. Douglass’ (sic). 11 present. Mrs. Russel serves ice cream & cake & Mrs. Kinsley assists. The old officers are elected again. Cynthia bringing in the names.
Thurs., 10 A very lovely morning & sunshine until toward (sic) Grace starts for Saratoga, will stop with Gertrude one night. From Saratoga she will go to Anna’s in Springfield, Mass. Meantime it is lonesome up this way. Feeling miserable. I do only such work as must be done. Letters from Ruth & Hattie, also a card of acknowledgement from Grace Kingsland. Write Mrs. Peterson, who is ill at Nettie’s in Buffalo with a cancer of the stomach. Write Mrs. Fairfield.
Filed under: 1924 Ella's Diary, DIARIES, From the H. Sheldon Museum | Tags: Wallace Nutting
Fri., 11 Still miserable. Dr. Phelps comes to see me but I do not improve. Sit still all day. Rains a deluge in the morning. But sun comes out for a time in the afternoon. Name pictures in the Wallace Nutting book Helen gave me. Tuttle buys a pie of Demers which is very good. Henrietta sick in bed. We both have a touch of Flu in different ways.
Tues., 19 Do the white wash. Very cold. Henry hangs the clothes. Do not dress Anna until after dinner. Make pies coffee cake & gingerbread. Mop the kitchen. Gertrude stays at home from school nearly sick. Coldest this winter so far.
1924 is put on hold–I have just acquired five of Ella Warner Fisher’s diaries and will post 1897 and 1902 this year, starting today– catching up.
Here is 1897:
(In 1897, Ella turned 44 and Henry 49. Ashton turned 25, Ruth 23, Grace 17, Helen 14, Gertrude 11, Henrietta 9, Benjamin 6 and Anna 4.)
In the front covers:
Swiss chard
Sweet corn & 1/5 sunflower seeds for hens.
A happier hunting ground, beyond the watching stars.
Edgar Tamar
Iowa
(?) & Fay Davenport
Sawyer Pub Co
Puzzle Dept
Waterville, (Me?)
E.F. Fisher
Aug 3 set a hen with the Sherwood eggs from Graves
JANUARY
Fri., 1 Wind South and growing warmer. An ordinary day in doors. Baked beans and brown bread for dinner. Finish a red eider down hood for Gertrude & commence one for Henrietta & mend quite a little. Attended the prayer meeting last night & am going to be as good as I can this year. Mr. Cantwell leaves town.
Sat., 2 Blowing all day from the north. Make bread & pies. Mend. Finish Henrietta’s hood. Go down street & get groceries. Tired to-night.
Sun., 3 Warm & pleasant. Quiet at home. Henry goes into Monkton. After dinner Ruth & I go to Ben’s. Write to Aunt Frank.
Mon., 4 Rise at 5 o’clock. Wash mop &tc. Warm. Ruth goes down to see Aunt Sally. Attend a business meeting at the church. I mean to live harmless, to injure no one, no matter how much they injure me. Will try and do faithfully what is put into my hands as I believe God wants me to.
Tues., 5 Rainy day. Bake pies & cookies and iron. Ruth goes back to Burlington. Send letter & papers to Aunt Frank. Send the (?faint ink) yeast to Mother.
Wed., 6 Snowing until toward night. Mend. Foster comes up & stays the afternoon with Benby. Arthur Hawkins comes with Henry to supper. Bread
Thurs., 7 A beautiful sunny day. Make bread. Sew on gaiters. Go down street in the evening. Do some shopping. Call on Mrs. Ross. Editor and Matchman. (or possibly Watchman) Union meeting at Congo church. Letter from Carrie.
Fri. 8 Pleasant. Make pies. Finish gaiters for Grace. Mend & do housework. Send to Ruth for cereal.
Sat., 9 Grace sick. South wind blows sharp. Letter from Mary Roberts. Make pies cake and gingerbread. Mend. Go down street P.M. Call at Whitford’s. Come home tired out & have the toothache.
Sun., 10 Warmer. Gertrude & I attend church. Mr. Thurber on trial. My first impression of the man is good. Write to Ashton & Hattie & Persis. Bathe the little children.
Mon., 11 Moderate & some snow. Do a large wash & mop dining room & kitchen. Girls go to school Get up at 15 m past 4. Make (?) bread at night. Teeth, face & throat out of fix. Write to Ruth.
Tues., 12 Wind north, growing cold. Iron. Mr. & Mrs. Whitford call P.M. Mend.
And here is 1902:
(In 1902, Ella turned 49 and Henry 54. Ashton turned 30, Ruth 28, Grace 22, Helen 19, Gertrude 16, Henrietta 14, Benjamin 11 and Anna 9.)
Inside front cover:
Aconite for
fever for Anna 11 (?)
6 tablets, “1 min.” to 24
teaspoons water
JANUARY
Wed., 1 The sun shining, but biter cold. Everything freezing solid. Union teachers meeting at our church. Do not attend. Grace goes down town. Make gaiters for Gertrude. Mend underwear all the evening. Herb Borroughs calls. (?) stockings for Anna.
Thurs., 2 Wind south & very cold. Pump frozen. Grace goes to Burlington. Tuttle goes to Montpelier. Nurse goes back to the farm. Work on Collarette. Make pudding for dinner & cake for supper. Do not go to prayer meeting, but go to bed early.
Fri., 3 Get up late. Henry & Ladou go to the Mt for wood. Make cream pie & doughnuts. Beans, brown bread & warm apple pie for dinner. Quite warm. Grows very cold. Tuttle & Grace come home. Henry goes after Hud. I attend Mission circle at State School. Grace goes to the chorus. Letter from Delia.
Sat., 4 A bright day. Finish cape for Gertrude. Mend. Bake. Get the S.S. lesson. Attend to the children’s bathing, &tc.
Sun., 5 Mr. Fisher wears his high heels to day. I pack the basket & get ready to go to the farm with him but do not go. Helen goes to evening service & from there to her school. All attend Church. The card system goes into use.
Mon., 6 Wash &tc. Cut out & commence Grace a skirt.
Tues., 7 Mrs. Porter calls after dinner. Bring Ellen. Grace goes home with her. Tuttle comes full at night. Mend. Ellen goes to school with the children. Henry draws wood.
Wed., 8 Ellen Porter stays at home with me. Her mother comes at night with Grace. Tuttle stays at home this evening. Henry drawing wood. Make fritters for supper.
Thurs., 9 Bake. Commence 2 skirts for myself. Send Mother Fr. a small basket of food. Ellen Porter goes home. Grace down street A.M. Tuttle at home in the evening. I attend Union service at M.E. church. Go home with Mrs. Middlebrook & Mrs. Hindes.
Fri., 10 Quite cold. Bake, get meals, mend, &tc. Grace & I search out the records. Write 3 chain letters. Go out after Helen. Grace attends the Chorus. Tuttle at home in the evening. Henry goest to Panton & then to Middlebury.
Sat., 11 Nice & warm. Make pies &tc, mend. Get the S. S. lesson. Drive up to the farm & see Mother F. Pay Mrs. Sweener $5.00 Benjamin goes after Tuttle. Help the children bathe.
Sun., 12 Snowing & blowing. Snow quite deep & drifted some. Walked to church & lived to get home. A good number in the S.S. Write Ruth, Ashton & Father. Helen goes to her school.
Wed., 20 Moderating. Grace comes home P.M. & I go down street. Call at Mr Whitford. Meet Mrs Woodman there. Get some meat & Benjamin a new pair of shoes. Ashton comes in after supper. Henry sick. A society meeting at the Church which I do not attend.
Wed., 13 Make cake & cookies. Helen comes at noon and takes us by surprise. Mend all the evening. Gertrude stays from school.
Mon., 13 A nice day. Wash mop &tc. Go down street P.M. Take Warner records to Mrs. Hindes Call on Mrs. Barnard & Mr. and Mrs. Crowell. Finish Anna stocking. Mother left here last spring.
Thurs., 14 Make pies and gingerbread. Helen sews on girls dresses. Helen, Hud & I attend the prayer meeting. A good meeting and a good spirit present. Carry Mrs. Whitford the yeast plant.
Tues., 14 Iron & mend. A nice day. Work on sofa pillows in the evening. Mr. Tuttle comes home the worse for wear. I fix the furnace & it gets a little hot. Letter from Ashton.
Fri., 15 Make cake. Clear out the kitchen bookcase. Helen & I go down street Look over the Opera House, Meet Abe at the Station Mrs Dumas makes me a visit in the evening. Mould bread. (punctuation sic)
Wed., 15 A beautiful day. Bake all the morning. Doughnuts and pies. Wash up dinner dishes. Finish one skirt for my self & work on sofa pillow in the evening. Letters from Ella Tullar & Minnie Phillips, Tuttle & Henry stay at home in the evening.
Sat., 16 Make bread & pies. Helen cleans out the parlor & I clean the front stairs & sweep the lower hall. Gertrude goes home with Helen on the P.M. train. I go down street in the evening.
Thurs., 16 A cloudy day. Grace goes to Burlington. Finish my sofa pillow & put up lace curtains. My Christmas present from Helen, which improves the parlor very much. Tuttle & Henry stay at home in the evening. Gertrude, Benjamin & I attend Prayer meeting, 36 out. Helen comes. A very good meeting. Write Daniel Canfield of Conn. Also write to the S. S. Times. Growing cold. Letter from Ruth.
Sun., 17 Growing warm. Rain P.M Good sermon by Rev Mr Thurber of Falmouth Mass. Grace, Benby & I attend. Helen comes in to S.S. Write to Ashton, Hattie & Mr Sherman.
Mon., 18 Wash flannels & colored clothes Gertrude comes home from Burlington & is about sick. Rev Mr Thurber calls P.M. Little Anna sick. Growing cold
Sat., 18 Make pies. Mend & get the S. S. lesson. Mr. Tuttle at home afternoon & evening. (A. . ?) Woodman & Mrs Goddard call for Gertrude. Go to the Class Club meeting at Woodman’s.
Sun., 19 Growing cold. Seven of us attend morning service. Take my class. Fresh fish for dinner. Grace & I go to the farm. Grandma give (sic) me 6 tea spoons for Anna– 6 forks. Write to Ruth & Ashton.
Mon., 20 A beautiful, cold day. Wash & mop. Go down street P.M. Loan Mrs. Barnard some INdian arrow heads. Call on poor Mrs. Ketcham, Mrs. Crowell, & Mrs. Peirce. Mr. Tuttle at home in the evening. Grace attend the Chorus.
Thurs., 21 Henry quite miserable. Ashton here. Snowing. Do not attend the Prayer Meeting. Get the meals & that is about all. Hallock brings a quarter of beef.
Tues., 21 Bake, &tc. Housework mostly. Make a cake for the Social & forget it. Tuttle under the weather. Every one of us attend the Social but Henry who goes down street. We take the pony and carry the old cradle &tc for tableaux. Very pleasant Edith Spencer stays with the girls. Snowing.
Fri., 22 Sweep 2 of the chambers, dust, &tc. Mrs. Ketcham comes P.M. & helps mend. Quite warm. Ashton comes 4 o’clock A.M. Henry a trifle more comfortable. Pare apples in the evening. Tuttle goes smelt fishing.
Wed., 22 Cloudy. Some rain. Sweep chambers & halls. Gertrude stays at home P.M. to help me. Tuttle at home nearly all day. Write Father, Lena & some other letters.
