MASON'S CORNER FOLKS.
In 186-- the town of Eastborough was located in the southeastern part of
Massachusetts, in the county of Normouth. It was a large town, being
fully five miles wide from east to west and from five to seven miles
long, the northern and southern boundaries being very irregular.
The town contained three villages; the western one being known as West
Eastborough, the middle one as Eastborough Centre, and the easterly one
as Mason's Corner. West Eastborough was exclusively a farming section,
having no store or post office. As the extreme western boundary was only
a mile and a half from Eastborough Centre, the farmers of the western
section of the town were well accommodated at the Centre. The middle
section contained the railroad station, at which five trains a day, each
way, to and from Boston, made regular stops. The Centre contained the
Town Hall, two churches, a hotel, and express office, a bank, newspaper
office, and several general stores. Not very far from the hotel, on a
side road, was the Almshouse, or Poorhouse, as it was always called by
the citizens of Eastborough.
Between the Centre and Mason's Corner was a long interval of three
miles. The land bordering the lower and most direct route was, to a
great extent, hilly and rocky, or full of sand and clay pits. The upper
and longest road ran through a more fertile section. The village of
Mason's Corner contained the best arable land in the town, and the
village had increased in population and wealth much faster than the
other sections of the town. To the east of the village of Mason's
Corner lay the town of Montrose, and beyond that town was situated the
thriving city of Cottonton, devoted largely, as its name indicated, to
the textile manufacturing industries.
The best known and most popular resident of Mason's Corner was Deacon
Abraham Mason. He was a retired farmer on the shady side of fifty. He
had married young and worked very hard, his labors being rewarded with
pecuniary success. When a little over fifty, he gave up active farm work
and devoted his time to buying and selling real estate, and to church
and town affairs, in both of which he was greatly interested. His house
stood about halfway down a somewhat steep hill, the road over which, at
the top, made a sharp turn. It was this turn which had received the
appellation of Mason's Corner and from which the village eventually had
taken its name.
Mrs. Sophia Mason, the Deacon's wife, was a little less than fifty years
of age. She was a comely, bright-faced, bright-eyed, and energetic
woman, who had been both a loving wife and a valued helpmeet to her
husband. Their only living child was a daughter named Huldah Ann, about
nineteen years of age, and considered by many to be the prettiest and
smartest girl in Mason's Corner. The only other resident in Deacon
Mason's house was Hiram Maxwell, a young man about thirty years of age.
He had been a farm hand, but had enlisted in 1861, and served through
the war. On his return home he was hired by Deacon Mason to do such
chores as required a man's strength, for the Deacon's business took him
away from home a great deal. Hiram was not exactly what would be called
a pronounced stutterer or stammerer; but when he was excited or had a
matter of more than ordinary importance to communicate, a sort of
lingual paralysis seemed to overtake him and interfered materially with
the vocal expression of his thoughts and ideas. Type would be inadequate
to express the facial contortions and what might be termed the
chromatic scales of vocal expression in which he often indulged, and
they are, therefore, left for full comprehension to those of inventive
and vivid imaginative powers. This fact should not be lost sight of in
following the fortunes of this brave soldier, honest lover, good
husband, and successful business man.
The Pettengill homestead was situated on the other side of the road,
southwest from Deacon Mason's house. Ezekiel's grandfather had left
three sons, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the latter being Ezekiel's
father. Abraham had died when he was a young man, and Jacob had been
dead about five years. Uncle Ike was in his seventy-sixth year, and was
Ezekiel's only living near relative, with the exception of his sister
Alice, who had left home soon after her father's death and was now
employed as bookkeeper in a large dry goods store in Boston.
Ezekiel was about twenty-eight years of age, being seven years older
than his sister. He was a hardy, strong-willed, self-reliant young
fellow. He loved farming and had resolved to make a better living out of
it than his father had ever done. A strong incentive to win success
proceeded from the fact that he had long been in love with "Huldy Ann,"
the Deacon's daughter, and he had every reason to believe that his
affection was returned, although no formal engagement existed between
them, and marriage had never been spoken of by them or the young lady's
parents.
Uncle Ike Pettengill had been a successful business man in Boston, but
at the age of sixty had wearied of city life, and decided to spend the
rest of his days in the country. Despite the objections of his wife and
two grown up daughters, he sold out his business, conveyed two-thirds of
his property to his wife and children, and invested the remaining third
in an annuity, which gave him sufficient income for a comfortable
support. He did not live at the Pettengill house, but in a little
two-roomed cottage or cabin that he had had built for him on the lower
road, about halfway between Mason's Corner and Eastborough Centre. A
short distance beyond his little house, a crossroad, not very often
used, connected the upper and lower roads. Uncle Ike had a fair-sized
library, read magazines and weekly papers, but never looked at a daily
newspaper. His only companions were about two hundred hens and chickens
and a big St. Bernard dog which he had named "Swiss," after his native
land.
The other residents of the Pettengill homestead were two young men named
Jim and Bill Cobb, who aided Ezekiel in his farm work, and Mandy
Skinner, the "help," who was in reality the housekeeper of the
establishment. Jim and Bill Cobb were orphans, Jim being about
twenty-one and Bill three years older. When young they resembled each
other very closely, for this reason they had been nicknamed "Cobb's
Twins," and the name had clung to them, even after they had reached
manhood.
Mandy Skinner was about twenty-three, and was the only child of Malachi
and Martha Skinner. Her father was dead, but her mother had married
again and was now Mrs. Jonas Hawkins, the proprietor of Mrs. Hawkins's
boarding house, which was situated in the square opposite Hill's
grocery, and about a quarter of a mile from the top of Mason's Hill.
Mandy had a double burden upon her shoulders. One was the care of such a
large house and family, and the other was the constant necessity of
repelling the lover-like hints and suggestions of Hiram Maxwell, who was
always ready and willing to overlook his work at Deacon Mason's so that
he could run down and see if Mandy wanted him to do anything for her.
Hill's grocery was owned and carried on by Benoni Hill and his son
Samuel. Their residence was on the easterly edge of the town, being next
to the one occupied by old Ben James, who was a widower with one
daughter, Miss Matilda James.
About a quarter of a mile east of Hill's grocery was the village church,
presided over by the Rev. Caleb Howe. He had one son, Emmanuel, who had
graduated at Harvard and had intended to fit for the ministry, but his
health had failed him and he had temporarily abandoned his studies. He
was a great admirer of Miss Lindy Putnam, because, as he said, she was
so pretty and accomplished. But after long debate one evening at the
grocery store, it had been decided without a dissenting vote that "the
minister's son was a lazy 'good-for-nothing', and that he wanted the
money more than he did the gal." The village schoolhouse stood a short
distance eastward from the church. The teacher, Miss Seraphina Cotton, a
maiden lady of uncertain age, who boasted that the city of Cottonton was
named after her grandfather, boarded at the Rev. Mr. Howe's, and was
ardently attached to the minister's wife, who was an invalid and rarely
seen outside of her home.
On the upper road, about half a mile to the west of Deacon Mason's,
lived Mr. and Mrs. Silas Putnam. They owned the largest house and best
farm at Mason's Corner. They were reputed to be quite wealthy and it was
known for a sure fact that their only daughter, Lindy, was worth one
hundred thousand dollars in her own right, it having been left to her by
her only brother, J. Jones Putnam, who had died in Boston about five
years before.
Mrs. Hawkins had a large house, but it was always full of boarders, all
of the masculine gender. Mrs. Hawkins had declared on several occasions
that she'd "sooner have the itch than a girl boarder." She was a
hard-working woman and had but one assistant, a young girl named Betsy
Green, one of whose sisters was "working-out" up at Mrs. Putnam's. Mrs.
Hawkins's husband, his wife declared, was "no account nohow," and for
the present her estimate of him must be accepted without question.
Among Mrs. Hawkins's twelve boarders were Robert Wood and Benjamin
Bates, two young men who were natives of Montrose. Bates was a brick and
stone mason, and Wood was a carpenter, and they had been quite busily
employed during the two years they had lived at Mason's Corner.
Mrs. Hawkins owned a buggy and carryall and a couple of fairly good
horses. They were cared for by Abner Stiles. He was often called upon to
carry passengers over to the railway station at the Centre, and was the
mail carrier between the Centre and Mason's Corner, for the latter
village had a post office, which was located in Hill's grocery, Mr.
Benoni Hill being the postmaster.
Since his return from the war Mr. Obadiah Strout had been Mrs. Hawkins's
star boarder. He sat at the head of the table and acted as moderator
during the wordy discussions which accompanied every meal. Abner Stiles
believed implicitly in the manifest superiority of Obadiah Strout over
the other residents of Mason's Corner. He was his firm ally and
henchman, serving him as a dog does his master, not for pay, but because
he loves the service.
Mr. Strout was often called the "Professor" because he was the
singing-master of the village and gave lessons in instrumental and vocal
music. The love of music was another bond of union between Strout and
Stiles, for the latter was a skilful, if not educated, performer on the
violin.
The Professor was about forty years of age, stout in person, with smooth
shaven face and florid complexion. In Eastborough town matters he was a
general factotum. He had been an undertaker's assistant and had worked
for the superintendent of the Poorhouse. In due season and in turn he
had been appointed to and had filled the positions of fence viewer, road
inspector, hog reeve, pound keeper, and the year previous he had been
chosen tax collector. Abner Stiles said that there "wasn't a better man
in town for selectman and he knew he'd get there one of these days."
To those residents of Mason's Corner whose names have been given, whose
homes have been described and some whose personal peculiarities have
been portrayed, must be added a late arrival. The new-comer whose advent
in town during Christmas week had caused so much discussion at the
rehearsal in the old red schoolhouse, and whose liberality in providing
a hot supper with all the fixings for the sleighing party from Mason's
Corner, when it arrived at the Eagle Hotel at Eastborough Centre, had
won, at a bound, the hearts of the majority of the younger residents of
Mason's Corner. The village gossips wondered who he was, what he was,
what he came for, and how long he intended to stay. If these questions
had been asked of him personally, he might have returned answers to the
first three questions, but it would have been beyond his power to have
answered the fourth inquiry at that time. But the sayings and doings of
certain individuals, and a chain of circumstances not of his own
creation and beyond his personal control, conspired to keep him there
for a period of nearly four months. During that time certain things were
said and done, certain people were met and certain events took place
which changed the entire current of this young man's future life, which
shows plainly that we are all creatures of circumstance and that a man's
success or failure in life may often depend as much or even more upon
his environment than upon himself.