A PAUPER'S FUNERAL--BEN'S FRIEND THE MINISTER, AND BEN'S VICTORY IN
WRESTLING
When I returned to the shop, Mr. Harrington said: "I'm glad you're back,
Ben. The rest of the selectmen have left the care of Benoni Mead's
funeral to me, and I've got a lot of things to do. We must have some
gloves and scarves for the bearers, and you'll have to ride down to
Charlestown to buy them."
I mounted a horse and rode through Menotomy and over the Plains. There
was a sharp breeze blowing; and as I neared the Neck, I heard a creaking
as if a rusty hinge was being turned.
Looking to the left, I saw a negro hanging in gibbets at the foot of a
ledge. The wind made the body sway to and fro, and the grating of the
chains caused the noise. The sight made cold shivers go up my back, and
I hurried on till I reached Cheever's store near the Boston ferry and
bought the gloves and scarves.
[Sidenote: BENONI'S FUNERAL]
On the next day little Benoni was buried. Days on which there were
funerals were half-holidays, that every one might attend. When I arrived
at the Hadley house, there were a number of men near the door, and
others leaning on the fence. The town bier stood in front of the house,
and the pall was over it.
I went into the house and looked at Benoni. His thin little face was
peaceful and happy as if he had found rest and an end of pain. Old Seth
Green slouched in after me. Winter pig we used to call him, he was so
sleek and fat. He looked at Benoni with a woe-begone expression, and,
turning away, helped himself to some liquor which stood on a table.
I followed him out and heard him say to Amos Muzzy: "Have you been in to
see Benoni? Looks real sweet and pretty. Mighty good rum the town
provided. Some of Buckman's best. Poor little fellow! I think I'll go
in and take another look at him."
The minister, Mr. Clark, now came. He made a short prayer, and then the
coffin was placed on the bier and covered with the pall. Some of the
most prominent men in the town were the pall-bearers. They placed the
bier on their shoulders, and the procession followed them. As we passed
the meeting-house, the bell tolled. When we reached the burying-yard,
the coffin was lowered into the grave. The minister made another short
prayer. Earth was thrown on the coffin, the grave was filled in, and we
departed.
I say the minister, Mr. Clark. For some time after the death of Mr.
Hancock we had no settled pastor. Ministers came and preached awhile for
us and then departed. We had become so accustomed to the old bishop that
it seemed as if no one could satisfy us or fill his place. It was not
till late in the previous year that we found the man who suited.
Mr. Jonas Clark, a young college graduate, preached to us, and we were
mutually pleased. The town voted to request him to become our pastor. He
accepted, and was ordained in November. The town voted one hundred
pounds for the celebration. The Governor's Council came out from Boston.
Deputations were sent from the surrounding towns, and we had a great
time, hours of preaching and hours of feasting. People loved Mr. Hancock
for his great common sense, his bluff, hearty, jovial manner, and the
wit and humour that abounded in him at a time when most ministers
thought it their duty to look as solemn as a gravestone.
[Sidenote: THE NEW MINISTER]
Mr. Clark became as much beloved and respected as Mr. Hancock, and yet
he did not resemble him. His manners were elegant. He was learned, able,
and very polite. Neat as wax, he made us feel ashamed of our slovenly
ways. He was not the bluff, hale fellow the old bishop was, who
compelled us to do what he knew was right.
Mr. Clark had a kind heart, a keen, clear mind. Though he guided us with
a firm hand, it was done in such a gentle and polite manner, that we
rarely felt how completely we were under his control.
And though he was a student and his tastes were delicate, still he did
not frown upon our rude sports, provided they were not low or brutal.
"They make the body erect and supple and give strength and elasticity to
the muscles. The body should be cultivated as well as the mind. What we
want is a sound mind in a sound body."
Wrestling was the great sport in those days, and I was always fond of
it. I was very strong naturally, and my trade as blacksmith had
toughened my muscles wonderfully.
Our strongest man and best wrestler was Jonas Parker. You would hardly
have suspected it; for though he had rather a grim, determined look, he
was a quiet, staid, religious man and a great lover of reading.
A few years before, he had bought some land of Dr. Fiske and built a
house not far from Bishop Hancock's and constantly borrowed and read his
books.
He was also a great lover of wrestling, knew all the tricks, and had
the reputation of being the best man in our county at it.
[Sidenote: BEN PRACTISES WRESTLING]
He watched me wrestling with the other boys, and one day said to me:
"Ben, you've got the making of a great wrestler in you. Come up to my
house when you can, and I'll teach you what I know about it."
On holidays and whenever I got a chance, I went up to his place, and we
would walk down to a grove back of his barn and wrestle. We kept this up
all the spring and summer, and he taught me the different throws.
He said: "You're coming on at a great rate, Ben. When you get your full
strength, I think you'll be as good or a better wrestler than I am, and
there's not such a great difference even now. I don't think we had ever
better wrestle in earnest, for it might make bad blood between us. We
can wrestle together for practice and leave it undecided which is the
better man."
After wrestling we would go into the house, and he would take out a book
of plays by William Shakespeare and read from it to me. We were both
religious men and did not believe in play acting. But plays like these
could do no harm. Jonas loved this man's writings next to the Bible, and
I saved up money and bought a copy of the book myself. Mr. Clark had the
same love for Shakespeare, and often when we stopped wrestling, as it
began to grow dark, Jonas would say that Mr. Clark had asked him to come
down to his house with me, and he would read to us. The plays seemed
much finer as he read them in his clear voice and explained them to us,
for by ourselves we only saw a portion of their beauties.
Jonas and I were at his house one August evening of this year, 1757, and
Mr. Clark had just begun to read, when Dr. Fiske rode up, and pulling up
his horse, called out: "Mr. Clark! Mr. Clark! There's bad news--very bad
news from the army. Colonel Brattle has received word from General Webb
that the French army were advancing to attack Fort William Henry, and he
was afraid it would be taken. Good-by!"
Mr. Clark shut up the book and said: "This is no night for Shakespeare.
Let us pray for the safety of our army."
[Sidenote: BAD NEWS FROM THE ARMY]
Two days afterward, another messenger rode up to our shop.
"There has been a great disaster. Fort William Henry is taken, and the
garrison has been massacred."
"Go on! How did it happen?"
"Colonel Munro was at the fort with a small force. Montcalm advanced
with his army to attack it. Munro sent to Webb for reenforcements. He
promised to send them and did send a few. Munro again asked for more
men, but Webb didn't let a man go. Montcalm attacked the fort, battered
it to pieces, and finally the garrison was compelled to surrender. They
were to deliver up their arms and then were to be allowed to march off
to the English army. They gave up their guns and started back to Webb,
but before they got far they were set upon by the Indians and most of
them massacred. Some few escaped to Webb's army."
"And what was Webb doing all this time?"
"Shaking in his shoes, I guess. He is now; for he has sent messengers
everywhere for reenforcements."
"The miserable coward! We'll send him men, but he ought to be hanged."
The next day a number of men set out under Captain Blodgett.
I wished to go very much, but Mr. Harrington said: "It's too late in the
season for them to do anything. They will just sit down and watch each
other. Your time is up next spring, and if you want to go then, I'll let
you off early."
So I stayed at home, and it was well I did, for the company only got as
far as Springfield, where they were met by messengers from Webb, who had
got over his fright, telling them to return. They came back to
Lexington, having been out only twelve days.
When they returned, we had a great jollification. The company marched to
the training-field, and went through the exercises. Crowds gathered
round and ate gingerbread and drank beer.
A lot of worthless fellows used to wander round the country, and pick up
a living by wrestling and betting on themselves. Such a man appeared on
the training-field that day.
[Sidenote: THE ESSEX COUNTY CHAMPION]
"Here I am, boys, at your service,--Sam Sloan, the champion wrestler of
Essex County. I've wrestled with the best men of every town in the
county,--Newburyport, Ipswich, Gloucester, Marblehead, Salem,--and
thrown them all. I've been from one end of the county to the other, and
not a man can stand up against me. I hear you've got the best man in
Middlesex in this town, and I've come to throw him. If you think I
can't, make your bets. I've got ten pounds with me, and I want to bet
every penny of it."
He found plenty of men who were ready to bet with him, for all had
confidence in Jonas.
Some one ran after Jonas and brought him to the place where this man was
boasting.
"So, you're Jonas Parker, the best man in Middlesex? Well, you look as
if you could wrestle a bit, but you'll know more about it, after I get
through with you."
Jonas said nothing, but took off his jacket and waistcoat, and looked at
him quietly, with a grim smile.
Then they grappled each other, and I watched them anxiously. It did not
seem to me that Jonas was exerting himself fully or doing his very
best. But the man from Essex was laid on the ground in a short time.
He jumped up furious. "That was an accident. Just a piece of bad luck.
My foot slipped on something in the grass. It wasn't a fair wrestle.
Come on and try it again. I can throw you as easy as tumbling off a
log."
"Wait a minute," said Jonas; "pay your bets, and then we'll talk."
The man pulled out his wallet, paid his bets, and said, "Now, come on,
and I'll show you what wrestling is."
"Wait a bit," said Jonas; "don't hurry! You talk big. But you must first
prove that you are a wrestler. There's a likely lad here, and if you
wrestle him, and show that you can wrestle, you can take an hour's time
to get fresh, and I'll try you again."
The man blustered; but Jonas turned away, and coming to me, said: "Now,
Ben, I want you to show these people what there is in you. You can throw
him if you only make up your mind to it. You are very strong in the
arms, and if I were you, I'd give him a grip at first just to show him
your strength, and to put a little fear into him."
[Sidenote: A LIKELY LAD]
Father stepped up, and said: "Jonas, what are you up to? Ben can never
wrestle that man."
"Neighbour Comee! You don't know what Ben can do at wrestling, and I do.
And faith! I have a suspicion he's the best wrestler in the county."
Then Jonas led me to the man. "This is the lad."
"Lad! Why, he's as big as you be. How old are you?"
"Twenty, sir."
"Well, come on."
We caught hold of each other, and I gave him a grip that made him gasp.
We broke away, and he looked at me, panting, and said:
"What be ye, anyhow? You've got a hug like a black bear."
"Oh, that's nothing. That's just a little love squeeze to show you how
much I like you."
"Well, come on again; I'll show you what wrestling is."
He was not so strong as I, and I hustled him round in a lively way; but
he knew a good deal about wrestling, and kept his feet well. We
struggled for a while, and I squeezed him and shook him up, and then
tried Jonas's pet throw. He went to the ground like a log, and lay there
stunned.
I was scared at first, for I thought I had killed him, but Jonas said:
"He's all right, Ben. Just stand back, boys, and give him a little air."
He came to in a short time, sat up, and after looking about him got up
and said: "A likely lad! I should say so. A kind of mixture of bear,
wildcat, and greased lightning. I must get out of this town quick, or
you'll be setting some child at me, and I don't know what would happen."
He jammed his hat on his head, took his coat and waistcoat under his
arm, and hurried away.
Of course, I got great credit and praise, for no one but Jonas knew that
I was a first-class wrestler; and the men all felt proud to have another
man in the town almost as good at it as Jonas.
[Sidenote: BEN WARNED AGAINST FALSE PRIDE]
Amos and Davy had been staring at me, open-mouthed. Both of them came up
and shook hands with me in a most respectful manner. Father took me by
the arm and walked home with me, giving me a lecture all the way on the
vanity of foolish games and warning me to beware of a false pride in my
strength.
But when I had taken the basin, and was washing my face and hands by the
back door, I could hear him telling mother about it, as jubilant as one
of those old Hebrews over the fall of his enemies.
Goodness! If I had displayed the vanity and false pride that he showed
over me, I don't know what punishment he would not have given me.
When I came in, he bottled himself up, and looked at me in a sad,
reproving manner. But I knew he was as happy as a man could be. Mother
did not like it, and I had to assure her again and again that I was not
hurt. She began to talk about giving me some herb tea, and I got out of
the house as quickly as possible.