all of them, she was still doomed to remain alone. She witnessed the
happiness of her old playmates, and, wondering at her own strange fate,
spent much of her time in solitude. She even became so unhappy and
bewildered that she heeded not the tender words of her mother, and from
that time the music of her voice was never heard.
The sugar making season was now rapidly passing away, but the brow of
the _Sweet Strawberry_ was still overshadowed with grief. Everything
was done to restore her to her wonted cheerfulness, but she remained
unchanged. Wild ducks in innumerable numbers arrived with every
southern wind, and settled upon the surrounding waters, and proceeded
to build their nests in pairs, and the Indian maiden sighed over her
mysterious doom. On one occasion she espied a cluster of early spring
flowers peering above the dry leaves of the forest, and, strange to
say, even these were separated into pairs, and seemed to be wooing each
other in love. All things whispered to her of love, the happiness of
her companions, the birds of the air, and the flowers. She looked into
her heart, and inwardly praying for a companion whom she might love,
the Master of Life took pity upon her lot and answered her prayer.
It was now the twilight hour, and in the maple woods the Indian boys
were watching their fires and the women were bringing in the sap
from the surrounding trees. The time for making sugar was almost
gone, and the well-filled mocucks, which might be seen in all the
wigwams, testified that the yield had been abundant. The hearts of
the old women beat in thankfulness, and the young men and maidens
were already beginning to anticipate the pleasures of wedded life
and those associated with the sweet summer time. But the brow of the
_Sweet Strawberry_ continued to droop, and her friends looked upon
her as a victim of a settled melancholy. Her duties, however, were
performed without a murmur, and so continued to be performed until
the trees refused to fill her buchère-bucket with sap, when she stole
away from the sugar camp and wandered to a retired place to muse upon
her sorrows. Her unaccountable grief was very bitter, but did not long
endure; for, as she stood gazing upon the sky, the moon ascended above
the hills and filled her soul with a joy she had never felt before. The
longer she looked upon the brilliant object, the more deeply in love
did she become with its celestial charms, and she burst forth into a
song--a loud, wild, and joyous song. Her musical voice echoed through
the woods, and her friends hastened to ascertain the cause. They
gathered around her in crowds, but she heeded them not. They wondered
at the wildness of her words, and the airy-like appearance of her form.
They were spellbound by the scene before them, but their astonishment
knew no limits when they saw her gradually ascend from the earth into
the air, where she disappeared, as if borne upward by the evening wind.
And then it was that they discovered her clasped in the embraces of the
moon, for they knew that the spots which they saw within the circle of
that planet were those of her robe, which she had made from the skins
of the spotted fawn.
Many summers have passed away since the _Sweet Strawberry_ became the
Maiden of the Moon, yet among all the people of her nation is she ever
remembered for her beauty and the mystery of her being.
(The late) CHARLES LANMAN.
[Illustration]
THE FIRST WOMAN IN THE POST OFFICE DEPARTMENT
Just the other day, during a housecleaning in the Post Office
Department, a number of autograph letters written by men famous in
American history were discovered in an old and battered file-case.
The file-case had evidently been considered of no value, for it had
been stowed away in a little-used portion of the cellar, and would
undoubtedly have eventually been broken up and its contents lost or
destroyed.
The papers include letters of recommendation by Horace Greeley,
Garfield, Sumner, and others of then national prominence. Among the
papers was the record of the first woman appointed to the postal
service and one of the first employed in the Government departments in
Washington in any capacity.
The documents are considered as of more than ordinary interest,
particularly as autograph letters of recommendation from prominent
men are now practically things of the past. The general use of the
typewriter, and the fact that almost every man of prominence has a
private secretary, are largely responsible for this modern condition.
Autograph letters of recommendation, moreover, are not looked upon with
favor in Government departments nowadays, and a missive from Horace
Greeley such as the one on file would probably be thrown in the waste
basket as undecipherable. The appearance of this letter justifies all
things that were ever said about the great editor’s chirography.
One of the most interesting papers in the collection is an autograph
letter written by Elisha Whittlesey of the comptroller’s office in the
Treasury Department, to Montgomery Blair, then Postmaster General,
which resulted in the appointment of the first woman employee of
the postal service and the second to be employed by any Government
department in Washington. The letter follows:
“Treasury Department, Comptroller’s Office,
December 23, 1861.
SIR: Having understood you had decided to employ females in the dead
letter office under a recent act of Congress authorizing you to
employ an additional force, I present for your consideration the
application of Miss Elizabeth Johnson of Cleveland, Ohio, who now and
for some months past has been in this city.
She is a young lady, well educated, well behaved, and a member of the
Presbyterian Church. Her father died some years since, leaving a widow
and a large family of children.
Elizabeth D. was born in New Orleans, teaching school when the
seceding States withdrew. Not disposing to remain there, she was
protected by the colonel of a regiment from New Orleans to Richmond,
who was acquainted with her. From Richmond she went to Norfolk, whence
she came to Fortress Monroe with a trunk and flag of truce, from
thence to Baltimore in the regular steamer, and from there here by
railroad. A trunk containing her winter clothing was put in charge of
a gentleman who came to this city and lost it between Richmond and
Fortress Monroe.
The little money that she has is now exhausted, and she is in debt for
a few weeks past. She is the person of whom an account was given at
the time in the papers as having created a sensation on board of the
boat by hurrahing when she first saw the stars and stripes on Fortress
Monroe. Of her loyalty there can be no doubt, and for it I will be
responsible.
It seems to me that you will not have a case that will appeal more
strongly to your sense of justice nor to your sympathy or kindness. I
was acquainted with her ancestors in Connecticut, and have seen her in
Cleveland. Her application is before you and I hope it will prevail.
I should have waited on you in person if I could leave the office
without disappointing those creditors of the United States who are
waiting for their money.
The Hon. Mr. Theaker is acquainted with Miss Johnson, and will wait on
you in her behalf.
ELISHA WHITTLESEY.
P. S.--Mr. Theaker has heard of the death of his wife in Bridgeport,
Ohio, and has left for his home. Prof. Donald McLean, a clerk in this
office, will wait on you with this letter, and he is also acquainted
with Miss Johnson.
E. W.”
Mr. Blair made the desired appointment, and Mr. Whittlesey’s letter
bears the following endorsement in the Postmaster General’s handwriting:
“Somewhat mixed, but his heart is in the right place. Recommendation
approved.”
_Star_, WASHINGTON, D. C.
HAND-LOOM WEAVING REVIVED
Seated on a thick oak plank, worn smooth and shiny by centuries of use
as the seat of a hand loom, and with Mrs. Talbot seated on a similar
plank in front of a second loom in the basement of his residence,
No. 193 Power Street, Arnold G. Talbot, secretary of the Tockwotton
Company, and well known in social circles of the East Side, has become
a hand loom weaver. Side by side, with a light between them and another
in each of the front corners of the little room, Mr. and Mrs. Talbot
sit every week day evening and weave plain and pattern goods in silk,
linen and cotton, on the looms and in the fashions of two centuries ago.
They do it partly for amusement and partly to satisfy an increasing
demand for such goods as our grandmothers wove, among people with so
much money that it is really doing them a service to separate them from
some of it. They have what is probably the only hand loom establishment
in this State, a practical exposition of the spread and possibilities
of the modern arts and crafts movement. It is right in line with the
present movement for hand work in wearing materials or house fabrics by
those able to pay the necessarily increased cost.
In fact there are but few such establishments in this country. In the
mountains of Kentucky hand weaving is still practiced, and the products
of the mountaineers, handled through a semi-public institution, have
a ready sale. In Massachusetts such goods are also selling. Mr. and
Mrs. Talbot first thought of the possibilities of remunerative trade
when they found a demand for hand weaving among friends who saw the
results of their work of three hours every evening--from seven to ten
o’clock--on the one loom with which they began work. Then they procured
another loom in Johnston, the town from which the first one came, and
set that up beside the one Mr. Talbot had bought as a curiosity. Now
they have hired a Swede woman to come to work at the loom during the
day. In Sweden all the girls are still taught in the country districts
to operate a hand loom, and this woman has not been in this country
long enough to forget what she was taught as a girl.
Mr. Talbot believes in old things. It is said by friends that there is
nothing modern in his house except the present members of the family.
He has one of the most strikingly beautiful mantels imaginable, taken
from one of the old houses on South Main Street, in which the quality
of the old town of Providence once lived, and his son and heir even
sleeps in one of the trundle beds of song and story. So when a friend
told him of the auction of goods of a collector of antiques in Johnston
he went to the sale. No one else seemed to want the old hand loom there
offered, so Mr. Talbot bought it, just for the sake of getting an
unusual antique.
There must be many such looms in the garrets of the South County and
other sections of the State, where they were shoved to one side half
or three-quarters of a century ago, but few of them are set up and in
working order as this one was. Mr. Talbot had the loom brought to his
home and then started to put it together again. What he did not know
about looms was vast and comprehensive, and Mrs. Talbot’s knowledge was
equally vain. But together and with the help of a friend or two whose
working idea of mechanics was as great as the Talbot willingness to
learn, they finally had it set up in the room Mr. Talbot had used for
his den. Then they went to work to learn how to run the thing.
Mr. Talbot has a wide acquaintance among mill men, and some of them
volunteered to come to the Talbot home and show them how to read
patterns, that they might reproduce old hand-loom designs. So they
came, and were given some hand-made goods to read. One by one they
confessed that, while they could read any machine-woven pattern, the
difference in the methods of the machine and the hand looms was great
enough to puzzle them. They could not read the patterns, that is, tell
how they were woven--so many threads this way, so many that way, and
the rest. They gave it up. Mrs. Talbot, who had a rare combination of
gumption and energy, tackled the problem and puzzled it out. She picked
up a little here and a little there, and was soon weaving, and weaving
patterns, at that.
This was early last October. The first loom had no sooner been set
up and started than Mr. and Mrs. Talbot found a new difficulty. The
work was fascinating, the hours they had to give to it were few, and
each wanted to use the loom at about the same time. So Mr. Talbot
commissioned the man he had bought it from to find and buy another
for them. The second one was found in Johnston, the town from which
the first had come, and was set up beside the other. After that they
peacefully wove every evening side by side.
They had to work everything out from the beginning. Their thread they
bought, but they had to build a warping frame, after the old fashion,
and warp and link the thread themselves, running four threads at a
time, up and down the warping frame. It takes them about four hours
to wind fifty yards of warp for forty-inch cloth. Warping the yarn is
the most essential feature of the whole process, for if it is not done
well, the yarn will not feed easily, and the weaving will be stopped.
Everything about the looms, except the operators and the harnesses, is
old. The harnesses, which came with the looms, were of cord, and the
new ones are superior. The reeds used in the looms are of split reed,
and Mrs. Talbot considers them better than the modern ones of steel.
The looms themselves are built of white oak, and as their history is
known, Mr. Talbot is safe in the statement that they are each more than
200 years old. He has even procured the square and compasses with which
they were built. One loom is used for plain weaving, the other one for
pattern work.
Mr. and Mrs. Talbot have named it the Hearthside Loom, a charmingly
descriptive name, and have already produced some very handsome
patterns, some of them copies of old patterns of two centuries ago,
some of them from Mrs. Talbot’s ideas, or from patterns made by Mr.
Talbot for their original work. They have found a good demand for their
products at prices ranging from $3 a yard for tabbie weaving--the
straight up and down, plain weaving--to about $5 a yard for silk goods.
In linen, which costs $2.50 a yard, they use all imported Irish linen,
the American linen lacking the property of lasting, the oil having been
extracted from it. Wool patterns and patterns in imported cloth are
worth $6 a yard, with plain wool weaving forty or forty-five inches
wide, at $4 a yard, and scrim curtains at $6 a pair.
A good woman weaver can weave about four yards of linen a day, or about
five yards of wool a day, on such looms as these. The Hearthside Loom
takes orders for pattern work on original patterns, and its work has
already proved popular among people who are able to buy goods made to
last. In addition to the two large looms, Mr. Talbot has a small ribbon
loom that is even older than the larger ones, while the trade-mark of
the establishment is a reproduction of a hand loom small enough to be
held in one hand, and hardly bigger than a large shingle.
The room in which they are placed is a veritable curiosity shop. On
the wall hangs the long crane from the old glebe house of St. John’s
Church, torn down last year, with other iron fire pieces; at the hearth
are old iron fire dogs; all along the rear wall hang other antiques.
The house is filled with old and curious things, none older or more
curious, however, than the looms forming the working machinery of the
Hearthside Loom.
_Journal_, PROVIDENCE.
ERROR--MEMORIAL TREES
In our May number it is stated that Charles Sumner sent to Russia
some acorns of an oak growing near the tomb of Washington, and from
one of these sprang an oak now growing in Czarina Island. Dr. Samuel
A. Green, Librarian of the Massachusetts Historical Society, corrects
this, showing that it was George, the brother of Charles Sumner. As
he says: “The incident may seem too trivial for serious notice, but a
memorial tree, if it is to have any meaning, should be deeply rooted
in truth and accuracy.”
[Illustration]
BALTIMORE’S OLD STEPPING-STONES
In the midst of the enterprise and activity that mark the Baltimore of
to-day, visitors frequently come across old landmarks that stand out
distinctly as reminders of the earlier and more leisurely days of the
city’s history. None of them is more familiar than the old-fashioned
stepping-stones still to be seen at a few crossings, usually at the
bottom of the steepest grades, and which become veritable Ararats of
refuge when the streets are flooded after a heavy rain. Worn smooth
on top by thousands of scurrying feet that now are still, chipped
and scarred at the corners by hundreds of whirling wheels long since
rotted, and streaked and pitted on the sides by the winter snows and
summer rains of countless yesterdays, the stepping-stone stands amid
the busy street like a milestone on the road that Greater Baltimore has
trod--like the tombstone of the dead past.
Nowadays the most prominent of these old stepping-stones are at
the foot of the hill below the town house of Secretary of the Navy
Bonaparte, at Centre Street and Park Avenue.
There are traces of the stones still left on the steep grade of
Saratoga Street, down from Courtland to Calvert, and there are some of
these stones at North Avenue, near the Mount Royal Avenue entrance to
the park, and their usefulness has been demonstrated more than once
during the heavy downpours that have characterized this season’s rains.
Probably the best-known of the stepping-stones were those opposite the
site of the old Hall of Congress, on what is now Baltimore Street,
between Sharp and Liberty, at which the sessions of the Continental
Congress were held in December, 1776.
Speaking of these old landmarks, Col. William H. Love said:
“For many years Baltimore and Fredericksburg, Va., shared with Pompeii
the distinction of having stepping-stones across the public highways.
Some years ago, when ex-Mayor Latrobe and his father, the late John
H. B. Latrobe, were visiting Pompeii, the elder Mr. Latrobe said:
‘Ferdinand, do you see anything familiar?’ Mr. Latrobe said that he
suddenly felt at home; he saw some old stepping-stones.
Some years ago, if I am not mistaken, there were stepping-stones at the
crossings on Lexington Street leading toward Liberty, and on Liberty at
the crossings all the way down to Lombard Street. They were the cause
of some painful accidents to children who were crossing and slipped,
cutting their faces badly. But as a rule they could not have been
dispensed with, because of the enormous body of water that came down
the streets when it rained in those days.
The flow of water was especially strong down Baltimore Street, and the
old stones opposite Congress Hall I remember well. The stones were
quite high at the curb and were somewhat lower near the center of the
street. I have known the rush of water to be so great down Baltimore
Street at that point that traffic was altogether stopped by it until
the storm was over.”
_Baltimore Sun._
THE GRAVE OF LEATHERSTOCKING
The grave of Daniel Shipman, who is generally believed to have been the
original of Cooper’s Leather Stocking, has been definitely located in
the Adams cemetery at Fly Creek, near Cooperstown, N. Y. A committee
has been appointed for the purpose of erecting a suitable tablet to
mark the grave, which is now merely covered with a large flat stone
with no inscription whatever.
THE BATTLE OF SARATOGA
(At a recent meeting of the Saratoga County Society, Mr. William L.
Stone made an address on the subject of the battle, from which we make
an excerpt.--Ed.)
This event (which has been called by Creasy one of the fifteen decisive
battles of the world) secured for us the French alliance; and lifted
the cloud of moral and financial gloom that had settled upon the hearts
of the people, dampening the hopes of the leaders of the Revolution,
and wringing despairing words even from the hopeful Washington.
More than a century has elapsed since that illustrious event. All the
actors in the drama have passed away, and their descendants are now
sharing in the rewards of their devotion and suffering. And now after
years of labor a noble shaft has arisen at Schuylerville to commemorate
that turning point of our National destiny; which, like those of
Lexington and Bunker Hill, tells of one of the earliest bloodsheds in
the cause of Cisatlantic freedom, and makes the selfsacrifice of our
ancestors endure in granite records for the admiration of generations
yet to be.
It is a noteworthy fact, in connection with the Battles of Saratoga,
that, until recently, there has been no map of the battle-ground from
an American standpoint (Neilson’s is the same as no map), our only
means of information being those maps made by Burgoyne’s engineers
[these were then shown by the speaker] and which were published in 1781
to illustrate Burgoyne’s defence when he was tried in Parliament for
his defeat at Saratoga. But, within a few years, there has been found a
map of the battle-ground, by General Rufus Putnam, which throws great
light on one point in particular, viz.: It has always been a mystery,
as I say in my “Burgoyne’s Campaign,” why Gates did not renew the
battle on the next day, the 8th. But from this map [here the speaker
exhibited the map, which has never been published] it appears that the
ravines at Wilbur’s Basin had been so fortified by the British, that
(to quote from the map in Putnam’s handwriting) “These defences (_i.
e._: on these ravines) thus fortified, prevented our attack on the
British the next day.”
It is also of interest, as showing the good judgment of Burgoyne’s
engineers, that the roads which they cut through the (at that time)
primeval forest, are the same that the farmers and road commissioners
adopted for their present roads--the one, for instance, from Victory
Mills to Quaker Springs, on the high ridge which Fraser took, while
Burgoyne and Riedesel took the river bank.
COMMUNICATION
Mr. Hammond in his article on John Paul Jones (July MAGAZINE) says
that Jones left Portsmouth for Philadelphia, November 6, 1782. He
might have added, as you will see by the following paragraph copied
from the Journal of Claude Blanchard, commissary of Rochambeau’s army,
that Jones sailed from Boston with the Frenchmen on December 23, 1782
(never to return to the United States alive.)
BOSTON. A. A. FOLSOM.
On the 23d of December, 1782, I went on board of the _Triomphant_,
eighty guns with M. de Viomenil, and on the 24th the whole squadron,
carrying the army, set sail and left the harbor of Boston; the channel
is narrow and has little depth; so that we were not without uneasiness.
Our pilot himself did not appear to be quite composed and incessantly
repeated orders. However, we fortunately got through; one only of
the transport ships was shattered upon the rocks on setting sail;
happily, there were not troops on board. We were to cruise as high
up as Portsmouth, a pretty good port beyond Boston, where two ships
of war were, which were to rejoin us and then to cruise alongside of
Rhode Island in order to meet with the _Fantasque_, a vessel armed _en
flute_. The bad weather changed these designs; we could not, without
danger, remain upon these coasts exposed to being cast away upon them
or driven upon sand banks.
On the 27th, the frigate _Iris_ left us, to proceed to France. On the
same day we lost sight of our convoy and our frigate. Moreover, every
vessel carried a sealed package pointing out the general destination of
the squadron.
The staff of the _Triomphant_ consisted of thirteen officers. Three
auxiliary and three officers of the regiment Médoc, keeping garrison in
the ship, who, with the officers who were passengers made fifty-five
persons. The soldiers and sailors were in proportion, so that there
were more than eleven hundred persons on board of this ship. We also
had on board the famous Paul Jones, who had asked permission to embark
on board of us, who behaved with great propriety.
February, 1783. On the 8th, several of our ships were obliged to put
into port at Curacoa. The squadron finally sailed for France, April
4th, arrived at Brest 17th of June.
ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS
LETTER FROM COL. HENRY GLEN, OF SCHENECTADY, N. Y., TO COL. MARINUS
WILLETT.
[The writer was distinguished during the Revolution, and his
correspondent even more so. The letter is interesting as covering a
variety of subjects, including the failure of the Oswego expedition,
local politics, etc., and for its phonetic spelling.]
SCHENECTADY, _13th March, 1783_.
My worthy Friend
COLO M. WILLETT