I do love these ancient ruins.
We never tread upon them but we set
Our foot upon some reverend history.
--_Duchess of Malfy._
I did not tarry long in Girard, but spent the night in West
Springfield. Thursday morning I escaped from the Keystone into the
Buckeye State, eating dinner in Conneaut. As the sleighing had
disappeared, I shipped my little sled home, as a relic of the
trip, and packed my grip in the saddle, as of old.
After a short rest in Ashtabula, we climbed a hill by the South
Ridge road, where I got a fine view of the city, and soon lost
ourselves in the darkness.
Presently a farmer drove up in a rickety wagon and began to coax
me to accept of his hospitality for the night. He deftly explained
that he would care for me and my animals until after breakfast for
fifty cents.
I decided to avail myself of the invitation, and Mac congratulated
me on my display of good sense. I, too, slapped myself on the
shoulder; I was ready to sup and go right to bed. In a short time
both donk and dog were comfortably stabled, and I was introduced
to the family. The noises from the lighted kitchen had faintly
intimated to me the sort of den into which I was allured. It
contained the noisiest lot of children that ever blessed a
household.
"Are these all yours?" I inquired, politely.
"Nope," answered Mr. Cornbin. "Ye see, this 'ere's sort of a half-way
house;" the man smiled, and poked some cheap tobacco into his corn-cob
pipe. "There's goin' to be a dance down to Plimton's to-night and all
our friends from around 've fetched in their babies for George
Buck--he's our hired man--to take care of. Like to dance, eh? Better go
'long--fine women going ter be there--here's plug, if ye want a
chew--no? That's smokin' terbaccer on the table by yer. We're plain
folks, but you're welcome to the best we've got."
Mrs. C. prepared me a supper which went right to the spot. She
advised me to go to the dance, by all means. I had made up my mind
to that as soon as the word "dance" was mentioned; the "kids"
would have driven me crazy in short order, had I remained with
Buck.
One by one the mothers of the hilarious "brats" came in; then we
all got our wraps on. I expected, of course, we were going to
ride, but no, the whole party walked. My hostess took her own babe
with her. She would leave the hired man in charge of her
neighbors' children, but was too wise to entrust her own child
with him and the lamp.
When we reached our destination I was introduced to four grangers
playing "seven up," and told to make myself comfortable. "Choose
your woman, Professor," said Mr. Cornbin, "an' show 'em how you
kin manage yer feet on a waxed floor."
Sure enough, the floor was waxed. The garret was converted into a
veritable ball-room. Two rows of upright scantling crossed in the
center of the room and propped the snow-laden roof, and through
these uprights, some twenty inches apart, glided the blue jeans
and overalls, calico and cambric skirts, with as much energy and
pride as might be squeezed out of a city cotillion. The fiddlers
and caller were mounted on a board platform at one end of the
"hall." They sawed away and shouted, and wore out more enthusiasm,
catgut and shoe-leather than I ever saw wasted in the same length
of time.
There were all sorts of dances and dancers. I myself tackled the
Virginia reel, Lancers, Quadrille, Caledonia, Polka, Hornpipe, Mazourka,
a Spanish dance, the Irish Washwoman, and several others. The favorite
music was "Pussy in the Rainbarrel;" it served for a half dozen
different dances. I never liked the music--a sort of windpipe or bagpipe
which allowed no breathing-spell from start to finish. In my second
dance I went off my feet, my head caught under the sloping roof, and the
floor master had to knock my "pins" from under me to get me loose.
There was one pretty girl there, and I tried to engage her for a
dance, but every time I approached her she shied away; at last,
she got used to my odd appearance, and allowed me to clasp her to
my bosom in a waltz. Just as we got started, the dance closed, and
the caller shouted to choose partners for a square dance. My
pretty partner agreed to dance it with me; I could see several of
her admirers looking "daggers" at me.
"Forward; right and left!" sounded the call. "Lead yer partners
round the outside!"
I thought the caller meant the outside of the house, and started
down stairs, but was soon stopped, and the call explained to me.
"Alaman left!--grand right and left!--half way and back--change
partners, and four ladies salute!--balance again and swing the
opposite lady!"
That succession of calls completely demoralized me. I got all
mixed up, and soon found myself clasping an upright instead of
somebody's partner, and concluded my part by violently sitting on
the floor. After that I contented myself with looking on.
Although the two prettiest features of the ball--the Minuette and
the St. Vitus Dance--had not yet taken place, I felt more than
satisfied, and bidding my friends good morning, set out for the
Cornbin domicile.
After a late breakfast of tea, bread, salt pork and fried
potatoes, I started for Geneva.
All through New York State people had supposed on seeing me that
"Uncle Tom's Cabin" had "busted," and that Marks, the lawyer, was
homeward bound with his mule. In Ohio, the curious countrymen
inquired if I was on my way to join Maine's Circus, at its winter
quarters, Geneva. Mac, as well as I, was quite sensitive over
these inquiries. Through the driving snow-storm we managed to
reach a hotel where, after a noon meal, I led my animals on to
Madison.
When a half mile yet to the village we passed the Old Woman's
Home, which I visited the following morning, Sunday. The man who
planned it was a genius. The rooms of the commodious building were
fitted up to suit the whims of the most fastidious fossils of
second childhood. Paintings and plaster bas-reliefs of old women
knitting, washing false teeth, and sewing, decorated the walls.
Sewing baskets, crazy quilts, dolls, and paper soldiers were
strewn about the rooms. The most novel of all departments was the
dental and hirsute Check Room, where the old ladies checked their
false teeth, wigs, cork legs, etc., when they happened in disuse.
A little brass ring containing a number is given the owner of the
article to be checked, so that it may be preserved in good
condition, and not get lost. Incidents are cited where very old
women, during intervals of temporary aberration, have got their
checks mixed and tried to wear an extra set of teeth, or an
additional wig; and it is said that once a woman with two normal
legs endeavored to hook on a cork leg. But when we consider the
great age of the inmates, such cases are quite pardonable.
From the next town, Painesville, we went to the home of President
Garfield. Mr. R----, who had the care of the handsome residence,
invited me in to rest, and sup. I was shown all of the beautiful
and interesting rooms. In the spacious hall hung a large
photograph of Milan Cathedral, and in the upstairs hall, a
portrait of Washington and an engraving of Lincoln. In the
General's favorite study, I was permitted to sit in the large easy
chairs where he had found comfort after his mental labors and
inspiration for his speeches and debates, and regarded the
bric-a-brac and furniture with more awe and reverence than I had
ever felt upon visiting the homes of the great.
Two miles beyond Mentor is Kirtland, once a thriving Mormon camp.
It is situated at considerable distance from the direct route to
Cleveland, and it took us over a distressingly muddy road, and
through such intense darkness that I soon lost my bearings. Seeing
the gleam of a lamp in a window, I went up to the house to inquire
the way to the tavern. The owner insisted on our being his guests,
and I felt very grateful. My animals were assigned to a shed, and
I was invited to a hot supper, which my good hostess hastily
prepared.
I soon discovered that I was among spiritualists, as well as
Latter Day Saints. My Host, Mr. J----, was an elderly man, and
well informed. He said much about Joseph Smith. He himself was
born in Kirtland some eighty years back, and had often listened to
the preachings of the founder of Mormonism. In those days Kirtland
contained about 2,000 inhabitants; but all that remained of the
town are two stores, a shop, and a dozen or so little houses, half
of which I found to be occupied by itinerant preachers of the
"Latter Day Saints."
My host said he firmly believed in Spiritualism, and dwelt at
length on communication between the material and spiritual world.
Finally he strode to my chair and felt of my cranium.
"Why Prof.," said he enthusiastically, "you are a medium yourself.
All you require is a little study of the science. Spiritualism is
merely the science of materialism." I shivered audibly.
"And do you mean to tell me," I said, "that you believe honestly
you can see the ghost, or the spirit of the departed?"
"I know it," Mr. J---- returned, emphatically. "I have FELT the
spirit of the departed. One night at a seance I saw my little
step-daughter who had been dead many years. I heard her call to me
"papa." She put her arms round my neck, and kissed me on the lips.
Then she disappeared. Of course, I know it! I saw her, I heard
her, I felt her; isn't that proof enough?"
I told my host that he was certainly convinced, but I wasn't. I
then bade him and his wife good night, and was ushered to my
chamber. There I pulled the clothes over my head, and tried to
attribute my shivers to the cold.
When I awoke next morning and searched in my grip for my razor and
found in place of it a "Toledo Blade," I began to suspect some
supernatural being had robbed me.
Before leaving Kirtland my host persuaded me to be shown the
famous Temple and the house in which the Prophet, Joseph Smith,
lived. The Temple of the Latter Day Saints there standing, is
probably the only church of three stories in the country. I
climbed to the tower that surmounts it, and got a fine view of
the spot where once stood the house of Brigham Young. The
arrangement of the inner temple was quite novel. At both
extremities of the main hall, or nave, was a series of four rows
of white-painted seats, lettered in gilt to represent the several
orders of the Priests of Melchizedek. Long rows of rings hung from
the ceiling, crossing each other in places, from which were once
suspended curtains to divide the nave into rooms for the sessions
of the different orders, and in the white square pillars might
still be seen the rollers and pulleys with which the curtains were
drawn.
Said Mr. J----, "I have heard Joseph Smith shout from that pulpit
and tell how the Mormons would yet build a temple still larger, to
answer their future needs, and some day in the future another one
a mile square; that they were the chosen people, and would send
missionaries to convert all Europe, after which they proposed to
sweep in America to a man. Soon after that proclamation he moved
West with a large following. There they reorganized, and the new
order assumed the title of 'The Latter Day Saints.'"
Traveling that day was most disheartening in more ways than one.
The roads were awful, my exchequer extremely low. Fortunately, on
the way to Willoughby a farmer offered to feed me and my partner,
provided we would help him saw some wood.
Mac supervised the work. After we sawed off a section of a log,
the farmer handed me the axe, but soon took it from me, saying
that I couldn't chop any better than I could saw. Then we ate.
[Illustration: "_Mac supervised the work._"]
[Illustration: "_Only time I got ahead of him._"]