THE "DARK DAY" OF SEPTEMBER, 1881.
The summer during which Nicholas Ribsam attained the age of twelve years
was viewed with dismal forebodings by many people, for the reason that a
celebrated weather prophet had foretold that it would be unusually
rainy, cold, and wet.
As a consequence, it proved to be the driest known in years. Days,
weeks, and even months passed without a drop of rain falling from the
brassy sky, and the fine powdery dust permeated everywhere. The weather
prophet lost caste, but he persisted in announcing rain, knowing that he
had only to stick to it long enough to hit it in the course of time.
As the autumn approached and the drought continued over a vast extent of
territory, the forest fires raged in different parts of the country. All
day and night immense volumes of smoke and vapor hung over the land, and
the appearance of the sun was so peculiar as to cause alarm on the part
of those who were superstitious.
There came a "dark day," like that of the 19th of May, 1780, which
overspread New England, and was most marked in Massachusetts. The
Connecticut Legislature was in session, and the belief was so universal
that the last awful day had come that the motion was made to adjourn.
Then, as the graphic Quaker poet says:
All eyes were turned to Abraham Davenport.
He rose, slow cleaving with his steady voice
The intolerable hush. "This well may be
The Day of Judgment which the world awaits;
But be it so or not, I only know
My present duty, and my Lord's command
To occupy till He come. So at the post
Where He has set me in His providence,
I choose, for one, to meet Him face to face--
No faithless servant frightened from my task,
But ready when the Lord of the harvest calls;
And, therefore, with all reverence, I would say,
Let God do His work, we will see to ours.
Bring in the candles." And they brought them in.
Tuesday, September 7, 1881, was a day very similar to the memorable one
of a century ago. A strange, greenish-yellow pall overspread the
heavens, and so darkened the light of the sun that lamps and gas were
lighted, schools and factories closed, and multitudes of the ignorant
and superstitious believed that the Day of Judgment had come.
Everything looked changed and unnatural. The faces of people on the
streets were ghastly, the gas jets in the stores, instead of showing
yellow, were as white and clear as the electric lights, and thousands of
the sect known as Second Adventists gathered in their places of worship
and confidently awaited the appearing of the Lord.
The "dark day" was more wonderful in the country. The leaves and
withering foliage assumed a most singular tint of green, changing, like
that of the grass, to a brownish hue; fowls went to roost, and the
animal creation must have been greatly mystified by a phenomenon such as
they had never witnessed before.
A curious feature of this luminous haze was that it cast no shadow. It
was as light under the trees as away from them, the whole unnatural
appearance of things most likely being due to the immense forest fires
which were raging in many parts of the country.
It was during the summer, I repeat, in which Nick Ribsam reached the age
of twelve years, that so many forest fires raged, and it was in the
autumn of the same year that he saw the famous dark day, so similar to
that of September, 1881; in fact, it could not have resembled it more
closely, for I may as well state it was that very day to which I refer.
"Nick," said his father, on that September morning, addressing his boy
in Dutch, "I promised to pay James Bradley one hundred dollars to-day
before three o'clock."
"Yes, sir," responded the boy, who knew that the debt would be paid on
time.
"He was to come here to our house to get it, but he sent me word last
night that he would be much obliged if I would send it to him at
Martin's store in Dunbarton, as he is obliged to be there all day. I
like to accommodate any one, and I will therefore send you to take it to
him."
"Yes, sir; I am ready to go whenever you want me to do so."
Dunbarton, as has been stated, was a village nine miles away, and the
principal grocery store in the place was kept by Jacob Martin. It was
there that Nick was to take the one hundred dollars which was to be
handed to James Bradley, to whom his father owed it.
It was like a holiday for Nick to take such a drive, and he was glad
when his father made known his wishes.
"Harness up the mare to the fall-top and drive over; you ought to be
back early in the afternoon."
"I will, if nothing happens to prevent."
Just then rosy-faced Nellie came out to feed the chickens. As the fowls
flocked toward her, some perching on her shoulders, head, and wherever
they could find a resting-place, she scattered the golden grains of corn
with a deft and lavish hand.
Her father looked at the cheeks as red as apples and the eyes glowing
with health, and, dropping into English, said with a sigh and shake of
the head:
"I dinks dot Nellie looks some bale."
He meant to say pale, and Nick laughed.
"I don't think she is very sick; she ate more breakfast than I did this
morning."
"Dot ish so, but I dinks dot I leafes her go mit you to Dunbarton, if
she can shpare her moder."
Mr. Ribsam meant all right, and when his wishes were made known to
Nellie she was delighted; her mother was glad to give her the privilege
of an excursion, for she was an industrious little girl, and,
furthermore, there were some purchases to be made both for the mother
and daughter, which Nellie could attend to better than could any boy, no
matter how intelligent.
The famous "dark day" of 1881 prevailed principally in New England and
the State of New York; but it was noticed further south, especially in
some of the wooded portions of Pennsylvania, though in the larger part
of the commonwealth it attracted no great attention.
It was between seven and eight o'clock when the four-wheeled carriage
with the single seat, and which vehicle is known as a "fall top" in
some sections of the country, was driven from the humble home of the
Ribsams, with the brother and sister seated in it.
As they approached the scene of Nellie's adventure with the bear, they
naturally talked about it, while Nick again related his own thrilling
experience, when the animal was shot by Mrs. Fowler, just in the nick of
time.
Shark Creek had suffered so much from the long continued drought that it
was no more than one fourth its usual volume; but the pond below was not
much diminished in size, as it did not flow off except when at a certain
height.
The brother and sister did not speak of the peculiar appearance of the
atmosphere until nearly to the bridge. There had been a great deal of
smoke floating over the country for several days, but there was nothing
to cause any fear on the part of those who lived near the large
stretches of timber.
As the darkness increased, however, Nick said:
"It must be caused by the thick smoke; but I don't think it will last,
and when we reach Dunbarton that will be the end of it."
"It won't make any difference," said Nellie, "unless it gets so dark we
can't see the way."
"No fear of that."
But when at last they emerged from the woods, and shortly after entered
the village, the impressive gloom was deeper than ever. The villagers
were awed by the unnatural appearance of nature, and were standing in
groups looking at the sky and talking in undertones.
Many were frightened, and not a few hurried to their homes, terrified
with the belief that the last awful day, when the heavens shall be
burned up as a scroll and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, was
at hand.
Ah, had it been the final Judgment Day, how many of us would have had
our houses in order for the coming of the angel of the Lord?
Nick Ribsam sprang out of the carriage, helped Nellie to alight, and
went into the store of Mr. Martin, where James Bradley was found
awaiting him. The money was handed over, a receipt taken, the horse
fed, during which Nellie attended to the errand on which she was sent,
and, an hour later, the mare was given water, and brother and sister
started homeward, little dreaming of what awaited them.