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OUR WOMAN'S PAPER. THURSDAY. MAY 14, 1S9.
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L. B. POWELL & CO.,
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Musical Instruments
ia6, 338, 330 WYOMING AVE.
High Grade Goods a Specialty.
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HIS
TORICAL.
(CONCLUDED.)
FRANCES SLOCUM.
The Lost Child of Wyoming."
The most romantic character In the
history of Pennsylvania la that of
Prances Slocum, who was stolen by the
Indians when but five years of age.
With them she lived until her death,
suffering many vicissitudes, and final
ly becoming queen of a tribe of Indians.
It Is not known In what year, nor in
what ship the adventurous Slocums of
Somersetshire, first left England for
America, but there la a record of An
thony Slocum buying land In Cohannet,
New Plymouth, now known as Taunton
Massachusetts, In IK!".
Giles Slocum. son of Anthony, was a
member of the society of Friends In
Portsmouth, Rhode Island, In 1638.
Prom him are descended the Slocums
whose American lineage dates from the
seventeenth century. Giles had a son
whose name was Samuel, a grandson
Giles, a great-grandson Joseph, whose
son Jonathan, wns the father of Fran
ces fUocum, the subject of this Bkotch.
After the terrible mBssacre of the
Connecticut settlers of the Wyoming
valley by the Indians, July 3, 177S, the
greater number of the survlnrs lied
through the wilderness toward the
Delaware river.
A few settlers had the hardihood to
remain; among them was Jonathan
Slocum, whose home was several miles
from the battle-field, which was from
Forty Fort northward to near West
Pitttton.
To this home came two bays, sons of
Nathan Kingsley, who had been taken
prli-oners by the Indians. The second
flay of November, four months after
the massacre, three Delaware Indians
approached the house, which stood In
the edge of the woods.
Mr. Slocum and his father-in-law,
Isaac Tripp, were absent The Kings
ley boys stood before the door grinding
a knife, one of them wore a soldier's
coat, him tlio Indians shot mid scalped.
Sirs. Slocum snitching her baby Mod to
the woods. Mary Slocum. aged ten,
caught up little Joseph, aged two. The
Indians shouted loudly and laughed
derisively at her as the wildly darted
after her mother.
Little Frances, In her terror, had hid
den under the stairway, but her tiny
bare feet were thrust out far enough
for the keen eye of the savage to detect
them. She was dragged forth.
Ebenezer Slocum, twelve years of age,
and the surviving Kingsley lad were
seized.
Mrs. Slocum ran back, with tears
streaming down her face and begged
for the children.
They scoffed at her with heartless
malignity.
Pointing to Ebenezer, she cried. "The
child is lame; he can do thee no good!"
The Indian loosed his hold upon ib
ci.ezer, and throwing Hula Frances
over his shoulder, followed the others.
The child stretched out one hand Im
ploringly toward her mother, with the
other brushed back her heavy unburn
curls; with tears running down her
face, she frantically besought her
mother for help, which the poor, heart
broken woman was unable to give.
The father returned to find a bloody
corpse at the door and his child gone.
Parties wero organized, who scoured
the country In the direction taken by
the savazea but there was no trace of
the lost child. Six weeks later, Jona
than Blonnm and Isaac Tripp were
killed und scalped by the Indians.
. Thus Ruth Slocum, In little more
than a month, was bereft of father,
husband and child by the merciless In
dians. The cruel uncertainty of the fate of
Prances was more bitter than the
knowledge of death to the grief-stricken
mother. Forced to see her child
torn from her by the bloodthirsty foe,
she never forgot that terror-stricken
face; that agonized cry of "Mamma,
mammal" rang through her brain.
She thought of the tender, little bare
feet, perhaps compelled to walk over
now, and would plteously moan "Oh
If the poor little creature only had her
shoes." This idea haunted her for
many years, racking her heart with
poignant anguish.
.' At the close of the war. In 1784, two
of the sous traveled as far as Niagara
In search of their lost sister, offering
one hundred guineas for the recovery
Of the child; the attempt was futile,
and after nn absence of several weeks,
discouraged, they returned home. This
was a sad blow to the mother but she
still had faith that Frances woujLd be
found.
In 17S8 the brothers again visited the
Indian country, penetrating as far as
the wilderness of Ohio, offering five
hundred dollars for Information of their
lust sister, but In vain.
In 1789 Indians were required by the
government to assemble at Tioga Point
to restore captured children.
Mrs. Slocum, with difficulty, made the
toilsome Journey to ascertain if Frances
were among the captives, but she was
again disappointed. Still her heart
clung to the hope that she would again
see her beloved child.
In 1797, four of the brothers started
from Wyoming valley with a drove of
cattle (to conceal the object of their
visit), three went by boat from Seneca
lake.Isaac driving the cattle to Queens
ton where they met continuing their
, Journey together as far as Chippewa,
again separating in order that a large
field might be searched. Isaac drove
the cattle through Canada to Detroit
arriving without shoes, almost desti
tute of clothing and nearly famished.
To appreciate the trials and suffer
ings of these brothers In search of their
Ister, It must be remembered that
Canada and many of the states were
n unbroken wilderness, Inhabited by
wild beasts and savage tribes, with
an occasional trading post or fort.
The following year another trip was
made to the North and West, as barren
of result as the former trips.
In 1807 the brave mother, who
mourned the loss of her child to the
last, died leaving with her sons the
solemn charge "Never to give up the
search for Frances." For more than
a half century, these faithful children
were constantly on the alert to obtain
some clue to their lost sister.
In 1826 word was sent that a chief of
the Wyandotte Indians had for his wife
a white woman, and Mr. Joseph Slocum
with his nephew, made the Journey to
'Upper Sandusky, but they were con-
flnced that the woman whom they
louna was not ranees.
; In 1835, Colonel George Ewlng, an In-
llan trader, stopped over night at the
Deaf Man's village, on the Misslssenn
. ura, a few miles above Its Junction with
uie waoasn. in xnuiano. xio was arani-
. id the hospitality of an Indian, .cabin
lad mm received with Unrtnaaa by a
And
All Kinds
of
"i
s
a
11 t
venerable Indian woman who strove to
make him comfortable.
He observed that great deference was
paid her by the fumlly. As she per
formed her household duties, he noticed
that her arm above the elbow was
white. After the other members of the
family had left the room he talked to
her in the Miami dialect, and asked If
she were not a white woman.
She finally acknowledged that she
was, that she had been captured upon
the Susquehanna by Indians when a
child, that she thought her father's
name was Slocum and that he was a
Quaker. Colonel Ewlng wrote an ac
count of this interesting Interview, and
sent It to the postmaster at Lancaster,
Pennsylvania. No attention was given
it; finally the letter reached John W.
Forney, who published it Is his paper,
the Lancaster Intelligencer.
Reverend Samuel Bowman forwarded
a copy to Joseph Slocum, of Wilkes
Bnrre. There was great excitement In the
town when It was known that there
was news of the long lost Frances
Slocum.
Mr. Joseph Slocum started for Indl
nna stopping In Ohio, for his sister, Mrs.
Mary Towne. Isaac Slocum. who also
lived In Ohio, but much nearer Deaf
J'.an's village, started In advance to
find the sister.
There was one mark by which the
family expected to recognize Frances.
One day while the Slocum children
were playing in the blacksmith shop,
one of her brothers struck the fore
finger of Frnnccs' left hand with a
hammer. Injuring It so that the nail
came off.
Taking with him an Interpreter Isaac
snuslit the Indian woman who received
him with the stoical Indifference of the
race.
After some conversation, he saw that
her t'nger had been Injured, and asked
the cause. The reply was instantly
given "My brother struck It with a
hammer in the shop, before I was tak-i-.a
away." This convinced him that
the aged, wrinkled woman, apparently
an Indian, was Indeed, his sister Fran
ces. Later the scone between Mrs. Towne,
Frances, Isaac and Joseph Slocum, was
one that moved all deeply, save Fran
cos, Mrs. Towne shedding tears, the
brothers excitedly pacing the floor, but
the lost sister, the tiny child so dear to
their memories had become a stoical.
Iron-hearted, Immovable Indian who
suspected these strange relatives might
attempt to take htr from her family.
The following day there was another
meeting when Frances gave Mrs.
Towne the hind quarter of a deer, an
Indian ceremony establishing friend
ship, then her formal manner became
cordial distrust and fear vanished.
Through the Interpreter Frances de
scribed her capture saying "The Dela
ware Indians carried her over the other
side of the mountain to a cave where
she cried herself to sleep. The follow
ing day she saw her father with Bol
dlers searching for her, but a big In
dian stood over her with drawn knifo
and threateningly Bald "Me kill, me
kill: So the dared not call to him.
When It was dark they pushed on un
til they came to a thicket where their
horses were tied, then they rode to an
Indian village, probably Fort Niagara.
There the chief. Tuck Horse, dressed
her hair In the Indian fashion, painted
her face, adorned her with wampum
beads and took her to an Indian who
adopted her.
In the spring she was taken to San
dusky, returning in the full. The fol
lowing spring they went to Detroit
where they lived for three years. After
much wandering they settled near
Fort Wayne, where they lived for
twenty years; then they moved to
Peru, settling within nine miles of that
Place.
tine was tirst married to a Delaware
Indian, later to a chief of the Mlamls,
Slu?-fan-ean-ah.
Frances had received the name of
Ma-con-a-qua (young bear), her daugh
ters were Klch-ke-ne-che-aua (Cut
Finger and O-sah-wah-shlng-qua (Tel-
low Leaf). Her sister and brothers
tried to persuade her to visit the home
of her childhood.
Put her reply was "I cannot, I can
not; I am an old tree; I cannot move
about. I was a sapling when they took
me away. I am afraid I should die
and never come back. I am happy
here. I shall die here, and He In that
graveyard. I am glad to see my white
relatives, but I cannot go, I cannot go,
I have done." She did, however, later
pay a visit to ner early home.
Trie sister anu Druthers with sad
dened hearts departed East. Ky the
treaty of 1838 the daughters of Prances
Slocum were given one section of land
on the Mlsslsslnewa river.
In September of 1839, Joseph Slocum
with two of his daughters, Hannah
Bennett and Harriet Slocum, visited
Frances. Mrs. Bennett kept a journal
which contains a description of Frances
Slocum that Is of great interest.
"My aunt Is of small stature, her hair
is grey, her eyes a bright chestnut
clear and sprightly, her face much
wrinkled and weatherbeaten, she has
a scar on her left cheek received at an
Indian dance, her teeth are remarkably
good. Her dress was a blue calico
short gown, a white Mackinaw blanket,
a fold of blue broadcloth wrapped
around her, red cloth legglns, and
buckskin moccasins. They have many
silver earrings, my aunt wore seven
pairs in her cars. Some of their dress
es are richly embroidered with silver
broaches. Many trinkets, beads and
chains of silver hung about the house."
Harriet Slocum says "After an excel
lent dinner of fried venison, potatoes,
short cake and coffee, the daughters
waBhed the dishes, replaced them edge
wise on the shelves, and swept the floor.
My aunt remembers that her mother
did so, and she taught her daughters
to wipe the dust from the dishes be
fore placing them on the table. Joseph
Slocum never saw his sister again as
she died the ninth of March, 1847.
George Slocum Bennett, of Wilkes
Bane, has an oil painting of Frances
Slocum made by George Winter, also a
painting of the spot where Bhe lived
when found by her brothers and a
piece of her dress and moccasins.
Miss Hillnrd has a painting of her
moccasins and earrings. Mrs. Frances
Slocum Oakford of Scranton has a pho
tograph taken from a daguerrotype.
Although Frances Slocum when ques
tioned by her relatives, maintained
that she had always been treated well
by the Indians, who admired her au
burn hair, and respected and revered
her for her bravery, strength and good
Judgment, yet to us of the nineteenth
century, her fate seems an .appalling
one ; .
Torn from her family at the age of
ftv wurounded oaly by. fierce beings
of another color, accustomed to sea her
captor return from battle with the
scalps of their whit victims, and wan
dering through the rugged wilderness.
it is strange that she lived to the age
of seventy-four.
Her pictures represent a woman of
strong character, spirited courage, tre
mendous endurance; there Is a digni
fied reserve that I majestic, a will
power that Is unconquerable. The cor
rugated brow Indicate the force of
conflicting emotions and stern concen
tration. The savages felt her superior quali
ties, never else would they have con
sulted her judgment, been Influenced by
her decisions, paying her such profound
deference, that she stands almost alone
In history, as a white woman, queen
over a tribe of Indians.
LEA M. HEATH.
THE HISTORY OF A TITLE.
First and Second Pennamite Wars.
Our nation has reached that point In
her career in which she begins to take
delight In living over the days of her
youth, when her life was full of ad
venture and stirring deeds, and only
the sound of the axe and the riile broke
the stillness of the forest. One of the
most interesting of her adventures was
fought out In this part of Pennsylva
nia, In the valleys of the Lackawanna
and the Susquehanna. The story be
gins In England in the time of King
James the First, when that monarch
divided the English discoveries In the
New World Into South Virginia and
North Virginia, or New England, and
granted the latter, In 1620, to forty
noblemen, calling themselves "The
Plymouth Company." This company,
in 1631, deeded that section of the terri
tory now occupied by the state of Con
necticut and extending west as far as
the South Sea, to Lord Say and Seal,
Lord Brooke and others. Numerous
settlements were made In the new coun
try, and by 1661 there was a sufficient
number of people to purchase the land
from the proprietors, and to incorporate
it Into "The English Colony of Con
necticut, In New England, in America,"
For almost a hundred years the col
ony was so taken up with her home in
terests, that she gave no thought to the
territory she claimed toward the Pa
cific ocean. An occasional trader or
hunter would come to her settlements
and tell of a beautiful valley in her
western land, rich in game and timber,
and fertile aB Canaan of old, and some
of her people restless under the re
straint of the towns, or tired of their
stony fields, listening to these men,
would murmur to go forth and possess
the land. This unrest gradually grew
until 1753, when six hundred Connecti
cut people formed themselves Into
The Susquehanna Company ' to settle
the valley of Wyoming. As there were
three requisites for a perfect title, "a
granted charter from the king, a pur
chase of the soil from the Indians and
possession, and as this company had
the first of these, they proceeded to get
the second In 1754, at a conference held
by the British government in Albany
with the chiefs of the six Nations.
For the sum of two thousand pounds
the Indians sold the whole of the Wy
oming valley and sufficient other terri
tory to cover a tract of five million
acres. The colony of Pennsylvania
sent commissioners to oppose this pur
chase, as she claimed the same terri
tory was covered by a grant given to
William Tinn In l'jst, ry Charles the
Second, and alo by a deed madu with
these same Indians in 1736.
THE FIRST COLONY.
The Susquehanna Company had now
all the requisites for a title except pos
session. The French and Indian war
soon broke out, and Interfered with
any efforts at colonization until 1762,
when a settlement was made on Mill
Creek above Wilkes-Barre, which was
totally destroyed the next year by hos
tile Indians. This disaster so discour
aged the Connecticut people that no at
tempt was made to enter the valley for
five years. In 1768 the company re
solved that Ave townships, five miles
square should be surveyed and grantou
each to forty settlers, being proprie
tors, on condition that those settlers
should remain upon the ground, man
their rights, and defend themselves,
and each other, from the Intrusion of
all rival claims." Accordingly forty
settlers for the flr3t township, Wilkes
Barre, started toward Wyoming In the
dead of winter traveling in ox carts or
on horseback, exposed to many hard
ships. One month before their arrival
the proprietors of Pennsylvania grant
ed the same territory to three gentle
men, one of whom was the sheriff of
Northampton county, on condition of
"defending the lands from the Con
necticut settlers." With a force of ten
men these Pennamltes took possession
In January, of the old stockade of the
first Connecticut settlers. The Yankees
arrived In February, and at once be
sieged the temporary fort. They would
have been successful, but for a strata
gem on the part of the sheriff, who, re
membering the "Yankee love of argu
ing," suggested a conference, by means
of which three tf the Connecticut lead
ers were enticed into the block-house,
arrested and carried prisoners to Eas
ton. Friends balled them out, and they
were allowed to return, only to be car
ried back with the other settlers by the
sheriff and a large posse. They were
soon released, and on their return were
joined by two hundred Yankees who
had come to take possession of the re
maining townships. The victorious
Pennamltes were at once driven out,
and thus the struggle went on, each
side building forts, and according as
their numerical strength preponderat
ed, driving each other out of the disput
ed territory, until blood had been
spilled, and much suffering caused to
innocent women and children.
THE ORIGIN OF PROVIDENCE.
In spite of this struggle the Susque
hanna Company succeeded in settling
seventeen townships with a population
of three thousand persons. The sixth
township has an especial Interest to us,
as It includes our city within its boun
daries. It was laid out in 1770 and
called Providence, after the Rhode
Island town of that name, thirty of its
settlers belonging to that colony. They
at first governed themselves by a gen
eral council which met at stated Inter
vals, and they allowed only those to
settle "who would be good, wholesome
Inhabitants," but later, as the conflict
deepened, Connecticut took up the
struggle, and in 1774 erected the terri
tory Into the town of Westmoreland,
attached to the county of Lltchllcld,
Three companies of troops were sent
out from this town to the army of
Washington, forming part of the Twenty-fourth
regiment of the Connecticut
lino.
THE FINAL DECISION."
In 1775 the dispute had become of
such national Importance that the Con
tinental Congress interfered, and re
quested Pennsylvania to desist from
her claim. This she did until the close
of the revolution, but promptly after
the surrender of Cornwallls she peti
tioned for a settlement of the difficulty.
A commission was appointed which
'met at Trenton In 17S2 and decided that
the territory belonged to the State of
Pennsylvania and that Connecticut had
"no right to the land in controversy."
"The Decree of Trenton" merely end
ed the contest between the states; there
were still to be satisfied Individual Con
necticut settlers, who claimed the land
by possession, and the grantees of the
proprietors who claimed .the land by
purchase. The Ynnkeei. asked the As
sembly of Pennsylvania for a title to
this territory "which their hands had
cultivated and for which their blood
had been shed In the cause of their
country." The inlluence of the Penna
mltes was very strong at Harrisburg,
and In consequence a commission wns
appointed by the state, which decided
that the, Yankees must glvo up their
land. The unhappy settlers at once
rebelled, and a cruel, Insolent unrea
sonable man with two companies of
lawless troops was sent ts restore or
der. Then cam dark days for the
Connecticut clafmajus who were trea-
This Paper
Supplied by
ed most unjustly, and who at one time
were driven from their homes and forced
to wander many days In the wilderness.
Matters grew worse and worse until
the sympathy of the people all over the
state was enlisted In their behalf, and
some of the best minds In the com
monwealth set to work to settle the
trouble. At last, in 1874, the troops were
withdrawn, but another dilficulty faced
the settlers, a conspiracy was formed
by the Susquehanna Company to re
conquer the territory and make of It
a new state. New settlers were poured
into the valley, among whom was the
famous Ethan Allen and his Green
Mountain boys, and the original set
tlers were not only obliged to make a
stand against the Pennamltes, but also
against their own people whose cause
they refused to espouse. A crisis was
reached In 17S6 when Pennsylvania
formed out of the disputed land the
County of Luzerne, and also in 17i7
when she confirmed the settlers In their
titles, thus putting an end to the Con
necticut conspiracy. Next year, how
ever, through the Influence of the land
holders the latter was repealed, and
not until the passage of the "Compro
mise Act" in 1798 was there peace in
the valley. By this the settlers were
not only given the land, but also the
Pennsylvania claimants were offered a
compensation for their loss In money
or property.
Thus ended a border war which ex
tended over a period of forty years,
and caused much unnecessary suffer
ing and bitter feeling. "In the forum of
law, Connecticut with a title regular
on its face, failed Justly. In the forum
of equity, the Connecticut Settlers,
without other title than the 'possesslo
pedis," prevailed rightly." The dispute
was beneficial to our commonwealth,
in that It brought Into It a people
strong in purpose, faithful in duty and
untiring in Industry, who, with the
Quakers, the Germans, the Scotch and
the Irish, have helped to make this one
of the foremost states of the Union.
No better monument to the Indefatig
able energy of these Connecticut Yan
kees can be found, than this, our own
beautiful city of Scranton.
KATHARINE MAY WINTON.
WERE OUR GRANDMOTHERS HAPPIER
THAN WE?
Our question relates, not to this Im
mediate generation of grandmothers,
but to those remoter dames who jour
neyed hither to establish homes In an
unhewn wilderness. They came up
from the New England States, often
on horseback, while the slow moving
wagons struggled over stony trails, lad
en with only such of the household
goods as were needed for actual ex
istence. Evidently, tall clocks and claw foot
furniture could have found but little
part la these early outfits; whatever
the parlor splendors of the eastern
states, our pioneer ancestors left them
all behind. The grandmothers, there
lore, whOHo linpp!r,9&b (V ar tJ con
sider, were wtujcu Tvltib vai-t ir. life
comprised, lor eacii a husband, and a
tract o wild land somewhere among
these rugged hills.
Their very log cabins were still to
build and fancy draws pleasant pic
tures of these sylvan homes oa they
rose rough hewn and wholesome un
der the woodman's axe.
The life within their walls seems en
viably simple and untrammelod to us
who sit In our houses today, wound
about with this network of many In
ventions. Our homes often seem but
little more reposeful than ocean steam
ers or railway cars, with their gas and
steam and electricity, and the voice of
the outside world hooting upon our pri
vacy through the telephone. Our dwel
lings become stuffed to suffocation with
furniture and decoration. The whole
machinery of life has grown so compli
cated, and the standard of what is suit
able and necessary has risen to such a
straining Bitch, that, often the joy of
living flags. It is then wo turn back
to the dim, simple past and measure
Its pleasures by our own.
We see matron and maid as they sit
at ease beside the clean swept hearth,
with no work more trying to eye and
nerve than the knitting.
The flame draws up brightly in the
great fireplace, fed by liberal forestlcks
and the rotund backlog, while the mas
ter of the house reads 'the Monthly
Palladium,' by the added light of a tal
low candle, hooked to the back of his
splint-bottomed chair.
The children crack butternuts In the
Ingle nook, with a pleasant subcon
sciousness of the adjacent pantry, with
Its pans of milk, cheeses, plies of maple
sugar and combs of honey. The sole
machinery about this blest abode Is the
pump log at the door, through which
rushes a puro stream, summer and
winter, without let or hindrance.
This description in truth Is, however,
but the picture of an hour when life
in the sylvan home has reached its ulti
mate of perfection. To form a true esti
mate of the happiness of those archaic
days, we must enquire much more ful
ly Into the nature o'f old time work and
worry.
Of these things we long ago enjoyed
a full testimony from an admired
grandmother In whom dwell" the spirit
of literature and recital. Her youth
was passed here when pioneer condi
tions were at their full vigor. Her long
life closed, finally, amid prosperous
modern surroundings. She thus beheld
the beginning and the end, and was
conversant with both Bides of this ques
tion. The account here set down was,
In fact, her reply to the longings of a
young lady, encumbered by affluence,
to revert to log cabin life, one open fire,
a pot and a skillet.
'That one wood fire,' responded
grandmother, how often we hear about
It In these dayB, and how few people
there are who know all It had to do, and
what it really was to live by it!
My own first recollections of the old
fireplace have fully ns much terror as
pleasure In them. When we came to
the settlement we could not at first get
even an iron crane. We had to brace u
thick pole of green wood far up the
chimney. From this hung a log chain,
to which we hooked the great kettle.
This wood contrivance was called the
"lug pole." Whenever the pot went on
the first duty of the whole household
was to keep an eye on the lug pole.
Some times it would last a week or
more before it charred away. There
was no certainty, however, as to just
what it would do, from one hour to
another, and when somebody cried,
"The lug pole Is afire!" how my heart
began to beat! I would snrlnir to
snatch the younger children to the far
side of the room, lest the great boiling
poi kiiouiu iau, wane tne elders ran
for watar to dash up the chimney.
Sometimes, too, chinks would open In
the hearth, and a puff of smoke an
nounce something burning underneath,
then "the basswood logs are afire,"
would be the call, and then came an
other scramble. That big pot seemed
forever on and boiling. It was high
holiday when we could take It off and
clear everything away. Wo were al
ways heating water, trying out lard,
hulling corn or sugaring off, to say
nothing of the endless cooking.
Thnt fireplace wns the center of per
petual toll. We hnd no rest from it
unless when uputalrs spinning and
weaving. And as for lta heat and com
fort, for all the roaring logs, I have
seen days when water froze In the
very room where the lire burned.
And how we worked In that log house!
I can tell you, when I was young, girls
did not open their eyes long after sun
rise, stretch out idle arms and wonder
what they could do to filj. In another
day. That question was answered for
every, hvur w bad to live. The day
Was
. , .
-Megargee
130 North Washington Avenue, Scranton. Pa.
were hardly long enough to hold the
work we must crowd Into them. The
household tasks, beside butter and
cheese-making, carding wool and
hetchellng flax, spinning and weaving
everything we wore, together with cov
erings for the beds and linen for the
table.
There was not the least question as
to what women should do In those days,
the only Inquiry was for the Lord's
strength and patience to do enough of it
for the pressing needs of existence.
But there was a Joy In seeing the
good cloth growing under our hands
all our own work, from the time the
wool ran about on the sheep's back, and
the linen rustled In the blue eyed flax.
I can feel the scratch upon my neck
and wrists of those new homespun
gowns even now. There was a hun
dred years of wear in the coverlets,
they are hanging up for curtains now
and boasted of as "grandmother's
work!" What we are nil doing in these
days I cannot tell. Everything is so
brought in all ready to use, we seem,
for the most part, to be Just beating the
air, and tiring ourselves out trying to
pass the time!
"Were we satisfied to live In that
log cabin with one fire?" Not a bit of
It. That would not have been natural.
We were just as full of vanity and
striving after style as you are now.
"For what is life without new furni
ture?" Lowell was not the first to ask
thnt, by any means.
Our only notion of ample plenishings
wns gained from our mother's descrip
tions of what she had known In New
England. To reproduce a few of these
elegances of tradition was our constant
aim. As we grew older we succeeded in
getting an additional room built on
with a small fireplace of its own. This
we regarded as a long pull forward.
over the mantel we hung an oil por
trait of a maiden aunt, our chief art
treasure. Looking (down upon us In a
large lace collar, and a genteel simper,
this picture was to us an admlrahlo ob
ject, and the standard up to which we
strove to furnish. But what could we
do? The days of making artistic some
things out of nothing were not yet. A
splint rocker and chairs, a shelf of an
cient brown leather covered books,
black silhouettes framed and hung on
the wall, these are the chief things
I can recall. In one moment of desper
ation we laid down our roughest home
spun coverlet for a rug. Our father,
starting to enter the room, paused upon
the threshold ns he perceived this ar
rangement, and briefly commanded,
'Take thoso bedclothes up from the
floor," and we, with disappointed
hearts, obeyed.
As you will Imagine, there was no
crowding to afternoon teas In those
days, no flying all over the country for
health or pleasure. The greatest social
treat was to get an afternoon's use of
the old horse, and ride along the bridle
paths through the cool woods to visit
the mother, or a neighbor. The baby
always went along, and I think of one
day when, after I had- climbed Into the
nuddl? with mine, the old mara vaulted
over tiie t lid la.'.'k into hei- pasture,
leaving us on tiie ground on the other
sloe. Hid I give it up then? Not at
all. No more than you would have
done a tour abroad for one little mis
chance. Besides, was I to be conquered
by that animal? I went In and caught
her, backed up into the fence comer,
took up the baby and mounted again.
I know that women now seem to pos
sess everything heart can wish, but
that grand feeling we used to have that
we were producing something, I mis
every day of my life. Of all the work
wo did we liked spinning best My
granddaughters think it hard that I
will not let them bring my old wheels
to the front, and have them standing
about In halls and parlors a Is the
fashion now. But I will not have play
things made of those old wheels. There
are too many serious thoughts and old
memories the sight of them brings back
to me. The sound of the wheel to a
woman who knew how to use It seemed
to fit in with every word of her mind,
but best of all with trouble. Whop
things went wrong we would go up
stairs and "spin it off." The wheels
were always brought out after a fu
neral. As we went back and forth and
drew out the thread the sound seemed
soothing and sad, and akin to our tears.
Nothing has ever replaced this treas
ure of the post.
"Grief, thou host lost an ever ready
friend, now that the cottage spinning
wneei is mute.
It has always seemed to us that In
this recital grandmother touched the
true key note of the unrest of today.
The creative possibilities of the early
times are not with us. Each woman
has no more her dally task of definite
productive work set before her.
Would we spin and weave? the fac
tories pour upon us fabrics of every
degree of excellence and beauty. Would
we cook, wash and Iron, and spend the
time in dusting and arranging this mis
cellany of objects In our homes? If we
do this how shall we dispose of the
army of other women who seek these
occupations, and are In need of all
things? Even the Impulse for literary
labor seems discouraged by the aval
anche or printing loading our tables,
and far beyond our power to read and
assimilate.
We walk, we drive, we haunt the
gymnasium and tread the bicycle, and
try, In Bhort, every substitute for those
labors which gave our grandmothers
strong backs and tranquil nervea. Yet,
as grandmother used to say, Is It not all
done, often, with a sense that we are
only "beating the air?"
But while this is true, let us Imagine
ourselves confronted with the necessity
for going back to the old labors and
living the old life from day to day, with
Its every toil and limitation! How many
of us are there who would not shrink
from it utterly?
In seeking to make this estimate of
the comparative happiness of our
grandmothers and ourselves It is to be
considered that we have thus far
touched mainly upon the material side
of the question. The greatly changed
conditions of life have lnid a necessity
upon us little known to any ancestress.
Her horizon was presumed to be llm
ited to the welfare of her household.
She felt little responsibility upon pub
lio questions of any description. The
burdens of her day did not Include the
anxious problem brought upon us by
the va?t Increase of population. Now
the cares of the outside world press
upon every woman of any degree of
leisure or social power. A new outlet
has opened for energies relensod from
the- old forms t labor in tho needs
of this great multitude, restless and un
satisfied, who cover the land, where the
peaceful forests used to stand. Deep
poverty Is here, such want In body and
soul thnt the diligent and faithful wo
man may be busy all day long In bet
terlng the condition of those lmme.
dlately about her. Every dweller In
America has a birthright of peace and
plenty, and It In our work to bring each
one to his own.
It Is for women, as well as for men.
to watch the "lug pole" of our civiliza
tion, and seek to replace Its weaken
ing fabric with that which .shnll en
dure. LOUISE PALMER SMITH.
Glenburn.
Ready made suits and separate skirts
There'B a graceful sweep to the ready
made skirt that can't be Imitated. We
have the best line In town.
PONNOLLY & WALLACE.
"Well, Ruth, have you had your pic
ture taken?" "Es, ma'am, but I sink
my toof didn't take nloe." "Why, did
you have your mouth open I" "Oh no,
ma'am." And th teacher wondered it
It sh had beard of X-raya
Library Work as a Profession for WomeD.
The Public Library movement has be- i
com so wide-spread that any good
sized town and In some States even a
small village without a library la al
most as much a subject of public re
proach as it would be without a school
house.
Naturally, the professional librarian
who shall be all that the name Implies,
na not as In olden times, a mere keep
er of books. Is coining to be more and
more recognized. Possibly In no other
profession does one have need for such
a wide range of knowledge as In this.
ana in no other to be so effectually to
the "manor born;" because, while train
ing may do much. It Is useless to hop
for the highest? success unless on has
certain inherent characteristics. Tact
always essential In every calling ex
ecutive ability, retentive memory, or
derly neatness to the point of "old maid-
isnness, accuracy, a sense or locality,
rapidity; to these all other things may
De aauea, out without such qualifica
tions for a foundation It will be wiser
to choose another vocation for one's lit
work.
QUALIFICATIONS FOR SUCCESS.
A high school or college educa
tion Is essential. A mere "fondness
for reading" is not necessarily a quali
fication, and In seeking a library situa
tion would better not be mentioned.
Some librarians of long experience have
replied, when such "fondness" has been
urged in an applicant' favor, "Oh, well!
tAat Is no especial objection; a few
months of library work will effect a
cure." others, by a series of question
have discovered that the "fond reader"
who claimed to dote on Dickens could
not give a list of his works nor even a
clear account of tho characters named
In one book. The reading that will count
as part of ono a library training Is ac
tual, hard, study of an author's mind
as portrayed in his works, ooupled with
an ability to grasp facta wherever
found.
There are doubtless som detail In
various trades and professions of which
the capable librarian will wish to have
some practical knowledge. Proof read
ing and much of the details of printing
oflice work she must know. Familiar
knowledge of the different styles of type
and printing processes will enable her
to choose wisely the forms of her vari
ous working blanks, bulletins, and cata
logues. A study of drawing and archi
tecture Is essential, for even If not called
upon to actually plan a library building,
there are many details of arrangement
that the architect will leave to the li
brarian's Judgment. And various fit
tings that are needed from time to time
can be made to better personal satlsfac
tion If the user is able to make work
ing drawings for the carpenter.
Having ilnished one' college Instruo-
tion the special education for library
work ts yet to be acquired, Just as In
the case of the would-be lawyer or phy
sician. The Drexel Institute at Phila
delphia, the Pratt Institute at Brook'
lyn, and the Armour Technological In
stltute at Chicago, each have training
classes taking one or two years' course
of study; while latterly there have been
held summer school at Amherst and
some other places, giving limited In
struotion in the same direction. But
the one Library School, at which de
grees are conferred. Is at Albany, under
the direction of Mr. Melvll Dewey, Sec
retary or the Board or Regents and
State Librarian or New York. The en
trance examinations for admission to
this school cover a considerable field of
knowledge, quite up to standard of the
well-known Regents' Questions, and are
probably much more severe than those
encountered In the United States Civil
Service examination for correspond
ing positions.
The "Handbook of the Library
School," Issued by the University of the
State of New York says: "Candidate
must not be less than twenty year of
age and of recognized fitness and char
acter. Graduates of registered college
will be admitted without examination
as to general scholarship, but will b ex
amined in German, French, or any other
subject required by the entrance ex
amination, in which they may be de
ficient. The course In the library school
is two years, with thesis and bibliog
raphy added, so that If the diploma of
the school Is obtained It represents eight
full years of professional preparation,
after completion of a grammar school
course."
In some libraries a very limited num
ber of volunteer unpaid assistants are
permitted to learn something of the de
tails of library economy In return for
their services. That I one kind of
home schooling to be sure; yet In the
nature of things it can be only local and
with view to subordinate places, and
can not take the place of the high
grade instruction spoken of above.
As a library grow In sic th nsoaa
lty for a force
OF TRAINED CATALOGUERS
Increases from one or two person to a
dozen or more, as In the metropolitan
cities. But many small libraries em
ploy a special cataloguer to come and
classify and catalogue the entire library
up to a certain date, from whence the
librarian is to continue the work as to
further additions. This opens a field
for a limited number to go from place
to place spending a few months in each;
but Is, of course, not as satisfactory to
either library or cataloguer as would be
the same services continuously. There
fore It will be best for a woman taking
up library work not to specialize; both
for the above reason, and because,
sooner or later she will wish for a li
brary of her very own to control as she
thinks it ought to be managed. Just as
most women desire to be at the head
of their own homes.
While there are many ministers, phy
sicians, and lawyers In the same city,
and such may frequently exchange the
latest news and methods, the number
of librarians in each locality Is neces
sarily limited and thus, professionally,
they are Isolated. So when the librarian
would discuss technical affairs she
must needs take a Journey to some
other city. The progressive librarian
will not neglect these trips, as the fresh
IdcaB gained will keep her from the rut
of self-complacency; or, In other words,
guard against the possible feeling that
her library management Is so perfect
it cannot be Improved In some direction.
THE AMERICAN LIBRARY ASSO
CIATION, with Its annual meetings, is the great
clearing house for exchange of different
library views throughout the United
States. This Association was organized
at Philadelphia in 1876, through the ef
forts of Mr. Dewey; and has held meet
ings at various places across the conti
nent, from Boston in 1879 to San Fran
cisco In 1891. That of last year was
held In Denver, and this year It will
meet In Cleveland, Sept. 1, In con
nection with that city's centennial cele
bration. Now, having actually held
sessions or taken Post Conference ex
cursions from Quebec and Halifax to the
Pacific coast, and New Orleans to Ash
land, Wis., they are prepared to wisely
visit abroad and study European librar
ies. In 187, therefore, the Americans
will probably Join their English and
other foreign co-workers In England.
It has usually been found wise to al
ternate the conferences between a city
ono year and a roBort. as the White
Mountains, Catskllls, Adlrondacks, etc.,
the next. In the one place awakening
Interest In the good work done by free
libraries; In the other, away from the
distractions of a large city, considering
n more lengthened programme of care
fully prepared papers. Some of the
paper at these annual conferences ara
Bros.,
purely technical, a .: Binding aa4
binderies: Catalogues and rlsseiflna
tions; Library legislation; ChargtnT
system, other are of general lntr
est, such as: Relation of th publl
library to the public school; Relation (
libraries to college work; Library archl-
leciure; Heading for the young; Uni
versity extension; Home libraries; He
lection of book. The convention of thla
association are the reverse of "junket
ing trips." sight seeing, except la tha
hour set aside for such purpose, la
iruwnea aown and any regular library
worker absenting herself from th ses
sion finds It remembered against her
In seeking a desirable position. Not
only librarians, and assistants, but also
trustees ana others concerned Witn
libraries are member at th ibwImb
Library Association, while thos not ac
tually connectea with libraries ars al
ways urged to attend, and cladtv wel
comed. These conferences are of SO
much Interest that they are looked for
ward to and remembered as an "event
equauy wen oy tne library student aa
by th professional who may hav beea
present at that oft mentioned ft rat con
ference of librarian la th United
States, held In 1353.
These National conference
onoe a year, however, and necessarily at
localities too distant to permit ff being
a((cnaea oy au woo wiaa is s at
Tharefor various
STATE ASSOCIA.TION&
hav been formed. Penri sylvan la
ha an actlv on with It
headquarter In Philadelphia, and hold
ing most of Its meetings there. Ona
meeting has been held in Northatm
Pennsylvania, at Wilkes-Barre in 114,
with a visit In Scranton and lnspeotlon
of th beautiful Albright Memorial
Building, and It la planaed to meet la
other localltlt at Interval.
Library work ha it "organ" In th
Library Journal, a monthly maaatlns
published In New York by Mr. R. It
Bowker, who Is well known to various
Scrantonlans both In a literary and
business way; the latter through larg
order at the Dickson Manufaoturmff
Work In connection with hi lntrt
In the Edison Electric Light Company
of New York city. The Library Jour
nal Is now In lta twenty-first voluma, '
having commenced publication In U74,
about the time of th organization of tha
American Library Associaion. Com
plete sets of that periodical common o
a much higher prlc than th aggr
gate of the (t.00 annual suascrtptioaa
Another outgrowth of the library
movement 1 the Library Bureau, who
chief headquarters 1 In Boston. Or
ganized originally to furnish supplle
of catalogue cards, and various) sthai
library furniture and fittings. It aa
grown until it ha branch la Mrw
York, Philadelphia, Chicago, Bi Xull
and now in London, England. It SUP
pile not only libraries, but also banka
and commercial houses ; for busln
men have been quick to see th ad-,
vantage of the card catalogue In keep
ing accounts, and record Indexes, aa4
many other allied purposes.
A LIBRARIAN'S DUTIES.
On of the first duties of a librarian,
especially In accepting a position In a
strange locality, should be. to acquaint
herself with the local history of the
town and county, and Its plaee la the
Stat history; andthen to take particu
lar Interest In building up that deaart-
ment of the library. In this she will
usually obtain cheerful aid from eld
resident of th plao. Sb must have
the Mohammedan's respect for every
piece of paper, written or printed, that
touches upon or relates to such matters
and look upon It as sacrilege to destroy;
old letters, journals, and pamphlet.
Library work la no sinecure, yet to
almost every person of culture who
undertakes It It Is peculiarly fascinat
ing; and some of th ablest men In th
profession remain In It when th same
ability would readily command far
larger salaries In the business world.
Speaking of men as librarian, It may
here be said that It is only aa chief
librarian or the head of th leading
libraries, and those of a special char
acter, that men are now mostly consid
ered as preferable. Women, on the oon
trary. All the larger part of the placea
as assistants; while they are In th
great majority as librarians of the aver
age sized libraries. As such they have
made an excellent record, too, and In
the progress of events have done much
to show their fitness for the highest
placea
Borne of the more widely known wo
men librarian are Miss Mary Salome
Cutler, Vic Director of the New York
Stat Library; Miss Ellen M. Coe, that
was, (now the wife of th Rev. Dr.
Rylance), previous to her marriage
librarian of the New York Free Circu
lating Library; Miss Hannah P. James,
of the Osterhout Free Library, Wilkes
Barre; Miss Theresa H. West of the
Milwaukee Public Library; Mis Tessa
L. Kelso, for many year at th head
of the Los Angeles Public Library, but
now with Charles Scribner1 Bona la
New York city; Miss Adelaide R. Haass,
of the Document Library, Washington,
D. C; Miss Caroline M. Hewlns, Public
Library, Hartford, Conn.; Miss Alice B.
Kroeger, of the Drexel Institute, Phila
delphia; Miss Mary W. Plummer, of th
Pratt Institute, Brooklyn; Miss Kath
arine L. Sharp, of the Armour Tech
nological Institute, Chicago; Mis Nina
E. Browne, cataloguer. Library Bureau,
Boston; Mrs. Minerva A. Sanders, Pub
lic Library, Pawtucket, R. I.; Mlsa
Caroline H. Garland, Public Library,
Dover, N. H.
Library work In a certain sense, la
woman's work, for It Is never done. The
hours spent In the library represent only
a portion of the time that must be de
voted to the work. All the leading
newspapers and magazines are to be
scanned In order that one may be ready
to assist readers; the Publishers' Week
ly, and other book notices studied, so
as to make the best selection of new
works at the least outlay of money; and
other odd moments given to building
up special departments or to consider
ation of Innumerable matters essential
to the growth and advancement of th
particular library under one's charge.
There Is one class of library work
that Is yet far from attaining Its fur
possibility and that Is to be found ll.
the Sunday School library. Most Bun
day Schools have a small collection, al
least, of well selected books; but not
many have grown to see the need of a
trained librarian to make the most of
those books In the work of the school.
Here Is an unoccunled field for a tact-
ful missionary spirit on the part of ool-
The salaries paid to library workers,
fall short of adequate compensation for
the amount of time and money expend
ed In preparation for the professions
although, quoting from a writer la
Library Notes, "the average pay of
librarians Is Increasing year by year
as the Importance of the work la more
generally recognised and as workers
deserving more pay are Increasing.
But the people who command the high
est salaries are exactly the onee who
do the higher grade of work whloh ll
done for Its own sake and not for pecu
niary reward."
EDITH WALLBRIDGE CARS.
Bertha was calling on her teacher
and enjoying herself Immensely with
the piano. Finally she espied an organ
in the next room, and running quickly
to It, drew out all the stops, which In
cluded the tremolo, and began to play.
Looking up In disgust he exclalaaed,
"Mlsa OUle, thla plaao stutters.