As we neared the shore Mr. Frankle and his men stood ready to meet us
and catching hold of our boat we were landed safely out on the dry land.
Our house was all warmed with a nice fire burning in the great stone
fireplace. Lights were lighted and supper was soon ready for us all.
Beds were put up and soon we felt we were at home.
Mr. Frankle had some friends visiting him from York State who had
delayed their going home until they had seen my mother in regard to
preparing some sturgeon for them. Sturgeon were so plentiful in the
river they could be pulled out with a gaff hook. Mother contracted with
them for several tons of smoked sturgeon. The Indians from their
village, three miles distant, agreeing to catch the sturgeon, the fish
were prepared and smoked, but the season closed too early to ship them
that fall, so they had to be packed and kept over until the following
spring for shipment to New York.
The river was so full of suckers that the mill had to shut down many
times while the men scooped the fish out with a large scoop-net and
loaded wagons with them, which were hauled a distance down the beach and
piled upon the sand.
At night the bears, wolves and foxes would come to that pile of fish,
making night hideous with their barks and growls. None of us dared go
out doors after night came. We lived on the opposite side of the river
from Mr. Frankle's mill. Father had to cross the river every morning
many times. Bears were swimming across the river and we children used to
watch them from our windows. The wolves would come to our large
smokehouse at night and take the smoked sturgeon, growling and snarling
around our windows. Our boys were busy days and got their lessons in the
evening.