IN WHICH MORGAN IS KNOWN AS THE GOSS HORSE.
Soon after his race with Silvertail, Morgan’s reputation, having
spread so far, he was bought by Colonel John Goss, who, not caring to
have the trouble of a horse himself, rode him over to St. Johnsbury,
and loaned him to David Goss.
When they arrived it was the eve of Training Day, the second of June,
and many farmers were gathered and making merry at the tavern. Having
all heard of the Morgan, a great sensation was created as Colonel
Goss rode him up to the porch of the Inn to show him off after Abel
Shorey had trimmed and rubbed him down.
He had cantered gaily up--mane and tail waving, wide nostrils
tremulous at new scents, alert ears pricking for new sounds.
Later he was ridden to his stable in David Goss’s barn. The Goss
place was a fine one, with large farmhouse, barn and outbuildings,
the whole being surrounded by tall and stately trees.
It was a beautiful home for a horse to claim, and it was to be
Morgan’s for a long time. Here his name was changed again, and he
became known as the Goss Horse, and was valued at one hundred dollars.
Under David’s saddle he travelled more than ever to near-by towns
and farms; he went to East Bethel, Williamstown, Greensboro and
Claremont. In all of these places he was made welcome and, for a
hundred years and more, men have been telling of these visits.
Sometimes David rode him to “raising parties,” where he stood one
side and watched strong young men lift the ponderous bents for the
barn or house about to be built. They used pike-poles, and shouted
loudly, lifting the bents one by one till the tenons sank into place
in the sill-mortises; then, some dare-devil afraid-of-nothing, went
up the new-hoisted bents like a squirrel and drove the pins into
place.
While men worked this way, or at the plow, women sat at home and
dipped candles or spun and wove flax and wool, and made them into
clothes.
Those were grand days in Vermont--when neighbors were neighbors, and
the world was full of hope and kindliness.
At this time Samuel Goss owned a newspaper called _The Montpelier
Watchman_, and in its columns could be found notices of the
endurance, beauty and gentleness of the Goss--but far from turning
his level head, it only made him strive harder to deserve the praise.
Modestly and cheerfully he went his way as farm-horse, saddle-horse,
carriage-horse: always endearing himself to every one associated with
him. It was his perfect training and his willingness to obey that was
ever the secret of success of Justin Morgan.[11]
By this time Montpelier was growing so prosperous, being made the
capital in 1808, that people began to think more of pleasure parties,
and bees of all sorts were held. History gives the credit to Mistress
Debbie Daphne Davis for inventing pumpkin pies, without a goodly
supply of which no company was considered complete. Even Goss had
his share of these, for every one paid him attentions when he waited
outside a house for his rider. He found the pies very palatable,
for at the kitchen windows of his women friends he had learned to
appreciate many concoctions not usually known to horses.
Sometimes a lady rode him to meeting in St. Johnsbury.[12] The
meeting house was little larger than his stall, and from where he
waited he could hear the preacher shouting forth healthy doctrine in
liberal measure with a strong flavor of brimstone. After this the
congregation would rise, noisily, as with relief, and sing a hymn
at the tops of their voices. Sometimes they sang “Mear,” which ever
reminded Morgan of the Randolph singing-teacher who had been his good
friend, and whose name he once bore.
Vermonters were real Christians in those days and regulations
regarding the keeping of the Holy Sabbath were enforced by
tithing-men who walked among the people during Meeting to see
that they behaved themselves in a seemly manner. If any one was
caught asleep or inattentive, and a Christian whack over the head
with a hymn-book did not waken him to a fitting sense of his
responsibilities, a committee of Selectmen “waited” upon him the next
day with results entirely satisfactory.
Such visits, however, were uncommon. The pioneers of Vermont were a
law-abiding people, honest, thrifty, religious and possessing all the
virtues that go to make up a strong, fine race.
That same year, 1808, Goss found himself in Burlington for a time,
and had an adventure known in the history of Vermont, although his
name has never before been recorded in connection with it.
One evening he went, under the saddle of a revenue officer, bent on a
secret mission, to the mouth of the Winooski.
Chill and darkness settled on the forest, stars came out and they
tarried at the farm of Ira Allen, at Rocky Point, until the great
yellow moon swam into sight and other officers joined them.
Leaves rustled softly as they started out through the woods, an owl
hooted solemnly, and from somewhere far off a whippoorwill called.
A short ride brought them to rugged rocks and rude cliffs overhanging
the river, in the then almost untouched forest, where Goss was left
behind a sheltering boulder.
In a few moments he distinctly saw a boat floating on the quiet
bosom of the water. The far-flung sound of men’s voices came to him
borne on the slight wind that sighed in the treetops. It was an
inexpressibly lonely spot, and Goss shuddered once with a feeling of
impending tragedy.
Having heard much talk of the Smuggler--“Black Snake”--for which the
Government had been watching so long--with rum, brandy, and wines on
board--it was not hard for him to guess why the officers were here.
As the vessel hove to, shadowy figures dropped from her side and
began unloading kegs and indistinguishable objects. For a time
deathly stillness reigned. Ever responsive to influences, Goss
breathed softly, and did not sneeze. The officers stepped as lightly
as cats, bracing themselves.
Suddenly there was the crackle of a musket from the bank, followed by
others, then the boat answered, shot for shot. The woods blazed--the
echoes woke. Bullets whistled through the trees above the horse, but
he neither flinched nor whinneyed as the scattered leaves fell about
him. After a while, quivering with subdued excitement, he strained
his neck forward with dilating nostrils--he hoped it was a battle!
And it was--in a small way.
A man, poised on the deck of the “Black Snake,” swayed and pitched
head-first into the river and sank beneath the dark water. There were
oaths and cries, then the “Black Snake” gathered sail and sped before
the rising wind down the river and out of sight, followed by a volley
of musketry.
This was but one of the many episodes of that border State, Vermont,
which gave her an atmosphere of adventure and filled her young men
with courage and her women with that quality of coolness which faces
life and its cares unflinchingly.
A little later Goss saw several men advancing, tired, silent and
grim. They were mountain men and stern, they had not much to say, but
they bore between them the lifeless body of the officer who had so
lately been the horse’s pleasant rider.
Goss shivered as they placed their burden across his back.
As they set out wearily toward Burlington between crag and tree
the dawn showed, coming over the mountain, spreading long shafts
of crimson on the placid lake. Tahawas, towering above the former
domains of the Iroquois Indians, reared his lofty head dimly in the
distance through the dispersing mists.
Slowly they went through the forest over thick pine needles which
deadened their steps, through vague shadowy dells where ferns grew
rank and cool streams trickled; on through the pathless woods until
finally they reached a farm-clearing, in the centre of which, set in
a frame of apples trees, stood a long, low house. Reverently the men
lifted the burden from the horse’s back, and, with lowered heads and
measured tread, they bore it into the house.
Goss waited patiently. He heard a robin singing in an apple tree
among the rustling leaves. He watched a hairy woodpecker run up the
side of a tree, using his bill as a pick-axe and scaling off bits of
bark sideways as he ran, disturbing a squirrel who sprang nimbly from
limb to limb. A meadow-lark dipped across the sky over level fields
of delicious beans, maize and squashes; a partridge called from the
distance and fleecy clouds floated across the now full-risen sun
casting long shadows on the lake, like the spirit of Hiawatha’s white
canoe--to the southward grim Regiohne, gloomy sentinel of rock, kept
guard. Around all the fine frame of mountains ranged.
In the golden morning sunshine Nature glowed with happiness. Then
all at once a low sound came to Goss’s pricking ears, the sound of a
woman weeping, and a shadow fell across the doorway, as of an angel’s
wing.
* * * * *
The Goss horse played his part, too, in many fine affairs. The
following year at the inauguration of the Preacher-Governor, Jonas
Galusha, he had the honor of carrying the newly-elected Chief
Magistrate in the grand parade. Crowds shouted and cheered as they
passed, drums were beaten and guns fired. Goss was almost as much
noticed as the Governor himself!
The Executive spoke in the town hall, outside which the horse waited.
Goss could hear the applause now and then, and when the speech was
finished a wag cried out:
“Now let’s sing ‘Mear’!”
Every one knew that “Mear” was the Governor’s favorite hymn, but
instead of singing, as Goss hoped they would, an outburst of laughter
greeted the suggestion, and the crowd poured noisily out into the
street once more.
Goss had a good time that day prancing to the music and showing off.
His enjoyment of such gay doings always made him popular with the
men, yet so gentle was he that women constantly borrowed him to ride
to meetings, quiltings, bees, or funerals.
At Burlington in this same year, 1809, the launching of the steamboat
“Vermont” (of which they had talked so long) took place. The
“Vermont” had been built _second_ to the “Clermont” (launched on the
Hudson, about two years before), but an unavoidable delay made her
the _fifth_ steamboat to be launched.
At great expense this passenger steamer had been built and was to run
from White Hall to St. Johns in twenty-four hours! It was almost too
much to ask the people to believe, said the newspapers! One and all
they predicted failure. Steamboats in those days occupied much the
same place in the estimation of the people as airships did a hundred
years later. Many called it a foolish waste of money, and dangerous
withal, but John Winans, who made the boat, was confident it would
mark an epoch in history.
Larger and finer than the “Clermont,” the success of the “Vermont” on
Lake Champlain does not concern our hero.
The streets were crowded with passengers from the mail coaches; the
Foote House was taxed to capacity; four-, six- and eight-horse teams,
with now and then a Canadian spike-team, blocked the thoroughfares.
Into this atmosphere of excitement and interest David and Goss
cantered early that morning, and put up at the house of Mr. Loomis.
This historic house had sheltered His Royal Highness, Edward, Duke
of Kent, who, in the year 1793, was travelling with his suite in
sleighs from Boston to Canada. It was built of logs hewn out with
a broad-axe and made a most warm and fitting place for so great a
personage to tarry in, not less comfortable did our two more humble
friends find it sixteen years later.
Nothing eventful occurred after the launching of the boat except that
Goss met a horse from Maryland, who gave him news of Mistress Lloyd,
now married to an army officer, known as the dashing Lieutenant Tom
Dulaney.
The Southern horse told him also of the lately opened Baltimore
course and of the great race there between Mr. Ogle’s Oscar and First
Consul, and how Oscar ran the second heat in the extraordinary time
of 7:40, a speed that had never been exceeded for the same distance,
and which seemed almost a miracle!
FOOTNOTES:
[11] “In the relations, duties, and pleasures of
the road--and family-horse the Morgan has never
had an equal in this country, no matter what his
blood.”--_John Wallace, Wallace’s Monthly._
[12] “I have always admired the Morgans. I believe
that no family of horses has ever been produced which
possesses in a high degree so many valuable qualities
which go to make up an ideal gentleman’s roadster, a
family, or all-purpose horse, as the family founded by
Justin Morgan.”--_S. W. Parlin, Editor, American Horse
Breeder._