I read regularly two British newspapers, the weekly ainnai I, overseas edition\u00a0of the Manchester Guardian and the regular edition of the London Sunday\u00a0Times. The Guardian keeps me informed of British opinion on world events in\u00a0up-to-the-minute fashion, because the air service brings it to me only fortyei\u00a0ght hours after pub Ii cati on. But I va I ue a Iso the Sunday Ti mes, wh i ch I receive\u00a0two weeks late, because it has some of the finest and best written articles\u00a0to be found anywhere in contemporary print.<\/p>\n
One of the Times’ roving correspondents, who is likely to tum up anywhere\u00a0in the worl d, is the famous Briti sh nove list and pi aywri ght, Graham Greene. His\u00a0brilliant dispatches to the Times from Kenya during the Mau Mau troubles and\u00a0from Indo-China just before the French capitulation were outstanding examples of\u00a0interpretative reporting. Recently Mr. Greene has just returned to England\u00a0from several weeks in Poland and has written a series of articles,describing\u00a0conditions in that Soviet-dominated country. If you enjoy clear, easy, pungent\u00a0Engl i sh, you w;i II app reci ate the exce I lence of Mr. Greene’s sty Ie. So, not on Iy\u00a0for its meaningful content, but also for its use of our rrother tongue at its\u00a0best, I isten to this brief extract from one of Graham Greene’s articles on Poland\u00a0in the London Sunday Times.<\/p>\n
“The ancient editor-in-chief of the French Communist newspaper L’Humanite\u00a0was leaving Warsaw. They put flOttiers on him as you put flOttiers on a tomb. The\u00a0smooth managerial types stood around and kissed the nicotinous yel low cheeks.<\/p>\n
Then they shoveled him aboard the pJ,ane. One pushed from behind, another tugged\u00a0from in front, another took the hat off his long white locks, another caught his\u00a0flowers. Thus the Conrnun i st edi tor- i n-ch i ef went aboard.<\/p>\n
“My own fe I low-passneger was young wi th a blue-gray puffy face, and when he\u00a0took off his hat you saw a shaven skul I. He too had been seen off, and by his\u00a0Country’s representative, who had succeeded after seven years in fishing him out\u00a0of a Polish prison where he was serving a long term for espionage. He wouldn’t\u00a0talk, for another of his countrymen lay in the same jai I; but he ate, how he\u00a0ate! There was more thick bread than anything else in our meal, but his tray\u00a0was empty before I had eaten more than one sandwich; so he cleared my tray as\u00a0well and emptied my briefcase of all the biscuits and chocolate and sandwiches\u00a0with which kind friends had stuffed it.<\/p>\n
“The old Communist editor dozed in his seat, out of touch with the problems\u00a0of L’Humanite, and I couldn’t help smiling to think of the many readers who\u00a0have asked me why I sometimes write thri Ilers, as though a writer chooses his\u00a0subject instead of the subject choosing him. It does indeed seem as though our\u00a0whole planet had swung into the fog-belt of melodrama. But perhaps, if one\u00a0doesn’t ask questi ons, one can escape the know ledge of the route our worl dis\u00a0taking. Perhaps it is enough merely to note that a venerable old man with long\u00a0white hair and long white moustaches says good-bye to warm-hearted friends, and\u00a0after life’s fitful fever he sleeps wei I; and a young man, as young men should,\u00a0has a healthy appetite. The world is sti II the world our fathers knew.”<\/p>\n
Mrs. Charles Nickerson of Oakland Road assures me that I was not dreaming\u00a0when I mentioned the significant premiums people used to get 50 years ago with\u00a0tobacco tags. She says her family still has a big bookcase secured with those\u00a0tags, of which the fami Iy, then storekeepers, collected at one time enough to\u00a0fi II a half bushel measure. The bookcase, says Mrs. Nickerson, held 175 good\u00a0sized books, had swinging glass doors leaded in a pattern design at the top.\u00a0l-bw many tobacco tags it took to get that bookcase we do not now know. Perhaps\u00a0it took the who Ie ha If bushe I \u2022<\/p>\n
For some time I have wondered whether there were ever any cases_ of alleged\u00a0witchcraft in Maine. Because Aunt Hannah Cool was a kind of herb doctor, and\u00a0mixed various medical concoctions in her kitchen, back in the early years of the\u00a0nineteenth century here in Watervi lie, people called her a witch, but no one\u00a0ever accused her of black magic, which is witchcraft intended to harm other\u00a0peop Ie.<\/p>\n
Recently ran across an interesting account of witchcraft in the Maine\u00a0town of Union. This is the story not of a bewitched person, but of a bewitched\u00a0horse. It seems that in 1813 Henry Esensa sold a horse to Samuel Daggett. Mrs.\u00a0Esensa, Henry’s wife, had the reputation in town of being a witch in league\u00a0with the Devil. She believed her husband had been cheated in the trade with\u00a0Daggett, and told her neighbors that the horse had always been a plaguey pest\u00a0and would never do the Daggetts any good. It was not long before the horse was\u00a0discovered mysteriously untied in the barn. No device was sufficient to keep \u00a0the animal tied. John Tobey, a sea captain, fami liar with every kind of sailor’s\u00a0knot, warmed a new rope, made a horse-knot, and put it around the horse’s\u00a0neck in approved fashion. He went to the barn, bored several holes through the\u00a0planks, passed the rope through the holes, made half a dozen overhand knots,\u00a0then carried the rope to a brace, where he made it fast with three round turns\u00a0and a couple of half-hitches. After a short stay at the house, Captain Tobey\u00a0decided to go home, but decided first to take a look into the barn. To his\u00a0amazement he found both horse and rope gone. A search located the horse in a\u00a0remote part of the barn, with the rope coiled securely around him. At another\u00a0time the horse was on the haymow, with the rope stuck so far into the hay that\u00a0it requi red two men to pu I I it out.<\/p>\n
No one could account for these repeated escapes. The horse was tied and\u00a0the barn doors nailed. Snow was sifted around doors and windows and founda-\u00a0Tion openings so as to show the tracks of anyone entering the barn. Nevertheless\u00a0the horse was found untied, and once he crawled out under the sil I of the\u00a0barn, leaving the marks of his shoes, where it was considered impossible for\u00a0so large an animal to get through.<\/p>\n
That Union horse became quite a celebrity.<\/p>\n
Waldobor.o and Thomaston to see the phenomenon.<\/p>\n
dred people assembled at the Daggett place. Mr.\u00a0People came from Searsmont,\u00a0On some nights fifty to a hunDaggett\u00a0would take them to\u00a0The barn and let one of them tie the animal as securely as Captain Tobey had\u00a0Tied him. Then al I who could get inside would crowd into the house, where Daggett\u00a0would entertain them for an hour with stories of his experiences in the Revolutionary\u00a0War. Then all would return to the barn, where on every occasion\u00a0the horse would be found untied.<\/p>\n
Finally, to put an end to the witchcraft, the tip of the horse’s ears were\u00a0cut off, and to the bleed i ng ends was app lied a red-hot shove I. That tough\u00a0Treatment drove off the witches. The mystery was never solved, but the less\u00a0ignorant folk in Union always contended that the Daggetts knew more about the\u00a0matter than they were wi II i ng to te II.<\/p>\n
Speaking of Union, that is the town where they once had a plague of frogs,\u00a0somewhat remindful of the plague of frogs that smote the Egyptians when the\u00a0Pharaoh wou I dn ‘t let the I s rae lites go.<\/p>\n
In 1820 a terrific July thunder storm brought a torrent of hai I. It ruined\u00a0crops, broke glass, and pi led up against stone walls in heaps that lasted a long\u00a0time. If much of it had not melted as it struck, the hail would have covered\u00a0the ground a foot deep, says one reliable historian. Thirty hours after the hail\u00a0had fa lien, Andrew Suckfort found ten inches of it where it had rolled agai nst\u00a0a north wall. Dr. Jonathan Sibley wrote, in a letter to a friend in Portland,\u00a0that three days after the storm he saw a drift of the hail six inches deep and\u00a0a dozen feet long.<\/p>\n
No sooner had the hai I melted from the fields than the frogs appeared. They\u00a0were thicker than summer grasshoppers. Millions of little frogs swarmed over the hai I-ruined fields and along the shores of the streams. They moved, like western\u00a0locusts, steadi Iy forward — some toward the river on the east, others toward\u00a0the untouched wi I derness on the west. Noth i ng cou I d stop them.<\/p>\n
Various conjectures were advanced to account for the frogs. Some people \u00a0were sure they fell from the clouds with the hai I. Others said the unusual\u00a0weather had caused a phenomenal growth of thousands of tadpoles that usually\u00a0meet an early death. But to informed naturalists the cause was apparent. They\u00a0came out of a mi I I pond in the cedar swamp west of Appleton Ridge, driven out\u00a0probably because the big storm had swept away much of their flOod.<\/p>\n
Union’s plague of frogs was of short duration~ but people remembered it for\u00a0many years.<\/p>\n
Among the old papers once in the possession of the late Jotham Hobbs is an\u00a0interesting document concerning the care of the poor. It is an acknowledgement\u00a0Signed in Watervi I Ie by James Stackpole, Jr. in 1852 and is addressed to the\u00a0Selectmen of Fai rfie Id. It says: “I n rep Iy to your letter to the Overseers of\u00a0the Poor of Watervi lie in regard to the c I aim for the support of Joanna Rowe,\u00a0wi II say that the claim, as lodged with me, is for board of said pauper paid\u00a0to Isaiah Varney, from March 8 to May 17 — ten weeks at 50 cents per week,\u00a0$5.00. To which is to be added her board from May 17 at such rate as may be\u00a0right. Yours, etc, James Stackpole, Jr.”<\/p>\n
In the early days of the rai I roads, goods got rough handling. Only seven\u00a0months after the first ra i I road line reached Watervi I Ie from the west, J otham\u00a0Hobbs’ grandfather, Jotham P Hobbs, had a bi II receipted for rai I road freight.\u00a0It seems that Hobbs had shipped a load of shingles from Watervi I Ie to Portland.<\/p>\n
The bi II, dated July 23, 1850, is apparently only the 18th freight bi II made\u00a0out at Watervi lie, if we may trust its number, which is 18. That means that\u00a0only 17 freight shipments out of Watervil Ie on the new rai I road had preceded\u00a0thi s load of sh i ng les. The bi II reads: ffJ. P. Hobbs, to Androscoggi n & Kennebec\u00a0Ra i I road Company, debtor, for transportati on from Watervi lie to Portl and of ten\u00a0thousand pine shingles, $2.50.” Then is written in parenthesis the tell-tale\u00a0words, U i n broke n con d i t i on” \u2022<\/p>\n
A few weeks ago I was tel ling you about mining that once went on in Maine.<\/p>\n
now have more information on this subject. I chanced to see an old pamphlet\u00a0printed in 1853, which is the report of A. P. Robinson, civi I engineer, of his\u00a0survey of the proposed route of the Portland and Oxford Central Rai I road from\u00a0Portland through Mechanic Fal Is to Rumford. Much of the report is concerned\u00a0with freight possibi lities for the projected line, and that accounts for the\u00a0following paragraph: “At Rumford Falls there is a limestone deposit of great\u00a0abundance and value, sufficient to supply the demand for many years, and easy to\u00a0quarry and burn. The rock is very pure and makes strong I i rna of good qua I ity.<\/p>\n
In the town of Rumford there is also a paint mine, capable of being worked for\u00a0the manufacture of red ochre, since the quantity is large and is constantly replenished\u00a0by gradual deposition from the water of a spring. There is also a\u00a0supply of bog iron ore sufficient to keep a smal I blast furnace going for ten\u00a0years. It wi I I yield fifty percent of iron, is easi Iy smelted, and makes good\u00a0cast iron. Charcoal can be obtained in any quantity desired for six cents a\u00a0bushe I.”<\/p>\n
Here’s a good story about the edi tor of a Ma i ne week Iy newspaper a century\u00a0ago. In his town was a woman whose sharp temper was matched on Iy by her untidy\u00a0appearance. One day she rushed into the newspaper off ice boi ling mad. “You\u00a0think you can get away with printing stuff about my fami Iy?” she yel led. nYou’ll\u00a0find out I’m not just a wishy-washy woman.” “Now I wouldn’t say that”, was the\u00a0editor’s calm reply. ”You may be wishy~ but you’re certainly not washy”. And\u00a0since that washes us out for tonight, we’ll say good-night for old times’ sake.<\/p>\n
Year: 1956<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Read the script for “Little Talks” program #296, broadcast on March 11, 1956<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":405,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[790,35296],"tags":[],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7613"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/405"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7613"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7613\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7613"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7613"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/web.colby.edu\/csc-home\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7613"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}