A View of the Town: Episode 16 -- Mrs. Abigail Symons Simmons

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by lettuce.  Crisp and green.  Flat, roman, or curly. It’s best with a mix of mustard and honey. Lettuce.

I want to tell you the time that I attended Mrs. Abigail Symons Simmons, the meanest woman in Misty Coves history.  Now Old Mrs. Simmons was on her death bed.  Just waiting for Death to knock on her door.  Probably to hand her off to whoever takes them down below.  Trust me, not one person in town will argue with me.

In order to understand her hatred of people, we would have to delve into her past.  And we just don’t know it.   She had moved to Misty Cove after her husband had died, because it was in his will.  He had to live in the house of his choice in order to receive money from his estate..  Apparently, he killed himself, possible to get away from his wife, but rumor has it he had embezzled money and law was about to catch up with him.  So, Old Mrs. Simmons had lived in Misty Cove for about ten years before I arrived, so about 1910.

Her main order of business was to complain about the orphanage home being too close to her house, the volunteer fire brigade “disgusting taste in uniform colors,” the smell from the wharf, the new color of the hotel, the old color of the hotel, the saw mill made too much dust, the grocery never had what she wanted, the baker's bread was too soft, sometimes too hard.… in fact there was nothing that she didn’t complain about.  Even when she first came to my office.

“How do I know that you are a qualified doctor?” she said. 

“Here are my degrees.  I trained under some great qualified doctors.”

“Those could be fake.  Maybe you bought them.”

I didn’t know what to say.  She sat across from me, frowning, holds folded on her lap, leaning forward a bit, and pursing her lips.  “I have a pain that I need to you determine its source.”

“And where it is?”

She pointed to her foot.  “I fear that it might be cancer.”  She slipped her shoe off and plopped her foot on my knee.

With just one glance, I could see that it was a callus.  A classic case.  She did not like that answer.

“I knew you were a quack.  Not a real doctor.  Any well-educated doctor would know that was cancer.”

Needless to say, Mrs. Abigail Symons Simmons did not return to my office and seven weeks later died at the age of 84.  From a slow painful death of cancer…. In her mouth.  Had she let me say “Open your mouth and say Ahhhh” I probably would have noted the sore.  But she probably wouldn’t have believed me.  

I’ll save some of my “fonder” memories of Mrs. Simmons for later, especially the one about being told to keep her window shades pulled all the way down.  My one of my other favorites being that of Mrs. Astor, one of our seamstresses in town.  Mrs. Astor once said "I just love to embroider her monogram.  It suits her so well."

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by lettuce.  Boston or head or bibb. Toss it with onions, tomatoes, and put it in the fridge.  Lettuce.

A View of the Town: Episode 15 -- Just a Couple of Tidbits

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Horace Pickle's Liver Spot Removal Syrup.  If you've the spots, we've got the syrup.  Horace Pickle's Liver Spot Removal Syrup is guaranteed to remove those ugly de-beautifying splotches.  Just 50 cents a bottle.

Misty Cove, Maine, was founded in 1849 as a small port town. Lumber, shipbuilding, fishing, and limestone were the major industries at one time. Later the tourist trade boomed for big city folk who would come for the summer to escape the city heat.  The main street is East Street that runs north and south.  It was named after General East.  To the north of town was a forest that the lumber trade would not touch.  It was rumored to be haunted by a powerful witch by the name of Amaryllis Stemm. 

One of our major trades is shipbuilding.  Elliott Maston, Elliott Porte, and Elliott Starr formed “Elliott, Elliott, and Elliott, Shipbuilders”, the most revered and prominent shipbuilder business in town.  The three cousins each had started out with their own business and found that unifying they could do better ship building and better business.  When they joined together, they had a very important decision to make -- what to name their business.  The easiest and simplest answer came quickly to decide was…  Flip a coin.  This led to the first fight.  The second easiest and simplest answer took a little more time… Draw straws.  This led to an even bigger fight.  It was Mrs. Porte, mother of the young Elliott Porte, who came up with the best solution.  Alphabetical.  But the feud that ensued only deepened.  Finally, it was Ms. Dewey, the librarian and no relation to the one who came up with the idea of that library system…  Just use their first names.  This idea was the best solution but only after they lost control of themselves in the public library and each grabbing a volume of the encyclopedia set… Volumes M, P, and the one with XYZ.  Heads were slapped.  Names were tossed about.  And finally, Ms. Dewey took her ferule to them.  Out the door they went, but only after promising to replace the destroyed encyclopedia volumes.  When each of them got elderly, they passed the business onto their sons, who changed the name of the business to "Matthew, Matthew, Matthew, and Herb, Shipbuilders."  It was rumored that Herb got paid more since he came last.

Our wonderful newspaper in Misty Cove was established in the early 1850s, some say 1851, while others argue 1852, then there's Abigail Appleton, granddaughter of the founder, who swears that it was 1850.  “The Daily Truth” was the name of our bi-weekly newspaper, except around holidays when it was published tri-weekly to run the sale advertisements.  Their motto – “You never know what we will print.”  It was founded  by Winslow Appleton, a middle of the roader.  Appleton was notorious for playing Devil’s Advocate.  The city relied on him more that any other citizen when it came to solving a town problem.  When it came time to choose the location of the town hall, it was Appleton who studied the town layout, chose a location, and suggested the type of building.  Often he would write our solutions of the town's or folk's problems in an editorial that appeared "every so often", which was the by-line of the column.  Only once did he get in trouble with his editorial -- the time when someone would have to inform Widow Simmons that she needs to keep her window shade in the bath room pulled completely down, especially after her baths.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Horace Pickle's Liver Spot Removal Syrup.  If you've the spots, we've got the syrup. Horace Pickle's Liver Spot Removal Syrup will remove those liver spots. Don't spill on your clothes if you don't want them spotted.  Just 50 cents a bottle.

CSM

A View of the Town: Episode 14 -- Widow Head

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Old Crown Whiskey.  It goes down smooth, but what can you lose, as their motto says, "If doesn't kill you, you can rely on this booze."  Old Crown Whiskey

Last time, I told you about the Leonora Leticia, a merchant ship that disappeared during a mighty storm on October 12, 1885.  Well, let me tell you about the time that the Widow Head saw that ship sail into port on the same night it sank… only twenty-eight years later. 

Well, let me tell you about the Widow Head and her night at the dock a few Octobers ago.  The night that the Leonora Leticia sailed in, which as you may recall and sunk many years before. 

Widow Head’s husband, Mr. Clear Head, was the town’s prominent and successful insurance salesman for many years.  But he died in a very tragic way.  According to the local gossip, Mr. Head had traveled to Boston, visited a local house of ill-repute, and suffered a heart attack.  Even more it was rumored that he had in the arms of a madam named Sweet Honey.  But that’s another story.

Now, with the help of the insurance money from her husband’s demise, Widow Head lived the life of luxury.  A new house, best rose garden in town, finest furniture.  All the latest styles of fashion.  And since his death, she has been known to take a nip or two… or three… or even a dozen or more.  It was reported that Amos Blackburn, owner of a local tavern, had sold more bottles of old crow to her and kept her well stocked.

To move along, one night, Widow Head must have had one too many as they say and was seen staggering on the dock where the merchant ships moor.  It was about midnight on the 12th of October. Several men who were quietly talking in a small dive near the dock witnessed the whole scene from there.

The excitement broke out when Widow Head let out a blasting scream that woke everyone within a five-block radius.  She ran uncontrollably, still screaming, into the small dive near the dock.  She proceeded to topple tables, chairs, and busted any bottle she could get her hands on. She had to be subdued by a couple of the brawny sailors.  But after wild struggle she broke loose, ran out, and leapt off the dock into the icy waters.

Once retrieved, she was brought to my predecessor. She smelled of whiskey and a bottle of gin was found in a secret pocket in her petticoat.  As he tried to help her, she raved endlessly about seeing the Leonora Leticia, sailing into port with Captain Deck at the wheel.  She said it glowed and misty.  And swore that Captain Deck had yelled out to her.  “I’m comin’ home to you my dear Minerva.  I’m comin’ home.”  The boys never decided whether it was the whiskey or the ghost of a ship, but the story lives on.  And the one piece of important information that you need to know is that Widow Head’s name was Minerva.  Now's there's a mystery.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Old Crown Whiskey.  Take a few sips if you've got the gripe. Take a few for the flu. It will warm you all the way through.  Old Crown Whiskey.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher spins another tale about Mystic Cove, a small port in Maine, and its residents.

CSM

A View of the Town: Episode 13 -- The Leonora Leticia

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Larry. Hairy Larry isn't scary but he also picks the bestest berries.  Larry lived in Misty Cove, Maine, but now he's totally insane. Larry.

I should tell you the story of the Leonora Leticia, a merchant ship that sailed between Misty Cove and several ports down south like Charleston and Savannah and even out to Bermuda and Jamaica.  The ship was commanded by a old salt named Captain Enormous Deck.  A hulk of a man with a beard so red that it look like an upside down flame on his face. Some of the boys in town claimed his beard had a family of crabs living in it.  He had been at sea for more than anyone knew.  Some claimed he was older that the hills while others said the dirt.

Now one moonless night, cloudy and dark, a horrid torrent blew in just as Captain Deck sailed towards Misty Cove, passing Pointless Point and up towards Widow's Pier.  But the ship never made it into port.  The lighthouse was dark.  The winds blew so hard that it blown out one of its panes of glass.  The wind was a force to strong for our lighthouse keeper, Nathan Stanhope, and his mate, Perky Parky Patchwork. They struggled to relight it.  Fearlessly fighting the gale. But it was too late. The Leonora Leticia had broken up on the rocks, not far out, but enough that between the tide and the wind, they took her further out, only to drag her to the bottom.

One life-hungry sailor managed to survive.  A young man named Barnabus Clark.   He told of what happened aboard the ship.  The ship was sinking from the water it was taking on.  Captain Deck had tied himself to the wheel, trying to steer the ship.  Clark was swept overboard.  The ship had staggered out toward open water when Clark was swept overboard.  The last he remembers of the ship was hearing a large crack and hearing the mast breaking.  He could see the  Leonora Leticia sinking.  No other survivors or wreckage appeared.  That was in October 12, 1885, near midnight. And here it is forty years later, every October 12, near midnight, and the Leonora Leticia has been seen sailing into port and then disappearing on that fateful night.

I'll have to tell you the rest of the tale.  About just how poor old Barnabus Clark left this world. 

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher spins another tale about Mystic Cove, a small port in Maine, and it residents.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Larry.  He once said that blueberries are best, but that was before someone shot his wooden chest just to get his best vest that he wore to pick the bestest blueberries.  Larry.

CSM

Alford Tales -- Murder! Part 5

Mama told me that Pa was accidently shot when struggling with Mr. Gwinn.  

Pa met Mr. Gwinn who had several bottles of drink. They followed the North River down to the island.  There, Mama and Mrs. Gwinn hid on the island.  When Mr. Tanner drove by with his wagon, Mrs. Gwinn with the help of Mama got onto the wagon and headed south.  Mrs. Gwinn was leaving her husband.  A man of drink and Godless.  She could not longer live with him.  She left her children with her mama who would eventually travel as well to the south then west.  Mama saw her off, telling her not to worry and that all would be well.

Mama dressed in an old cloak with her face hidden. Her part was to play the witch of the island and make Mr. Gwinn think that she had spirited Mrs. Gwinn away. Carrying his musket, Pa soon came with Mr. Gwinn.  Along the way, Mrs. Gwinn left her shawl to be found.  And it was.  She left her bonnet to be found and it was.  And her basket.  Left to be found and it was.  All along the way to the island in North River.  Mr. Gwinn and Pa had found them all. 

When Pa and Mr. Gwinn, who staggered a lot and yelled for his wife, got to the island, Mama rose up and walked about so that they could see her.  Pa attempted to convince Mr. Gwinn that the witch had taken his wife away. 

But what really happened was that Mr. Gwinn grabbed Pa's musket away from him.  And when he did, he accidently butted Pa in the chin and knocked him out and accidently fired the shot into him.  He ran towards the island with Pa's musket.  Mama hid in the brush.  Mr. Gwinn, drunk, did not see her and ran as fast as he could. At one point, he threw Pa's musket down in the mud and ran off into the woods.  Not really seeming to know where he was going.  And Mama rose up.

What Mama and Mr. Gwinn didn't know was Robert found the musket in the mud.  And Henry seen Mama standing on the island and Mr. Gwinn running through the woods.  What they all didn't know until later was Pa had been knocked out and fell into a pool of water, face down, and drowned.  Mama would get home before Robert and Henry.  She didn't see Pa lying in the water.  And neither did Robert or Henry.  Or Mr. Gwinn.

But later, when Robert came home with the musket.  And when they founds Pa.  She realized what had happened.  That something had happened between Mr. Gwinn and Pa.  Had she noticed him she may have saved Pa.  Mama was never really the same after that.  And everyone assumed that Mrs. Gwinn had been spirited away.

Mr. Gwinn eventually left Rockingham County never to be seen again. All us children told stories of him being taken away by the witch.  Some said that he disappeared out west.  Mrs. Gwinn's mama left one day with her grandchildren, heading west.  After I married Mr. Alford and moved to Monroe County, I saw a woman once who looked like Mrs. Gwinn, but she went by a different name.

So there you have it.  My Pa died by accident, but I always believed he was murdered.  Mama told me the story before she died.  My Mama and Pa both told many stories.  That's where I got my storytelling from.

My grandchildren gather around the fire sometimes and listen to me tell a story or two. I know many and have heard many.  I tell them about the witch on the island and how she moved with us when we came to Monroe County and now she lived out in the woods.  Mr. Alford just sits and grins as they listen.

*******

Margaret Alford died sometime between 1847 and 1850.  She lived out her life in Monroe County, Virginia, being survived by her husband and children and grandchildren.

Alford Tales -- Murder! Part 4

So far, I've made you think that my Pa was murdered.  I'm tricky that way. 

I thought about that time when Pa died.  When they found Pa, he had been shot, but the doctor said it was not normal.  Not easily done.  Looking back that was when I knew Pa had not been murdered like I had always thought, but killed by accident.

Now I have to tell all so you can understand what happened.  First, Pa left early, heading to North River, not north like he had said. Thinking back maybe that's what he meant.  That he was heading toward North River.  He had taken his musket with him, later found by Robert and Henry near the island.

First let me tell you about the day before Pa died, when Mama and I went into Harrisonburg to trade.  I stayed outside and sat down on a bench along side the post.  Staying out of the way like Mama always told me to do.  While I was sitting there, Mrs. Fulce and Mrs. Grisby had stopped nearby.  They did not see me.  But I heard them talking about Mr. and Mrs. Gwinn.  Remember my telling you about her and how she disappeared.  

Mrs. Fulce said that she had overheard Mrs. Gwinn talking to her mama about taking her children to live with her.  Mrs. Grisby gasped and said well with Mr. Gwinn and the drink you can't blame her.  I just casually listened to this concerned news.  About how Mrs. Gwinn was leaving with the Tanners, a family that lived not far from the bend in the Cook's Creek and the big lake.  They were heading west, somewhere further south then to the west.  Mrs. Gwinn and Mrs. Tanner were sisters and that made sense.  Mrs. Fulce talked more about Mr. Gwinn not being a God-fearing man and taking too much drink to take care of his own children.

The other thing I have to tell you is this.  I saw Pa talking to Mr. Gwinn who kept getting madder and madder over something about Mrs. Gwinn and her sister's talking.  I could only hear part of the conversation.  So, I'm thinking it was about Mrs. Gwinn leaving.  And when I thought about it some more, I then knew what Pa meant when he said I'll help the best I can. Saying that to Mr. Gwinn. But I knew that Pa and neither Mama for that fact would never help Mr. Gwinn.  Mama had made it clear one time that she had no interest in helping a man who takes too much drink.  And Pa felt the same way.

Now Henry and Robert had found Pa's musket in the mud near the island in North River.  They brought it home and Mama had hidden it.  One time I asked her about that and she never really told me why she wanted it hidden.  Just said no need to have it around anymore.  And added lucky for Robert and Henry to only found it and not been there sooner to see it all happen.  She never said anything else, until later before she died when she told me the whole story.

Mama told me that Pa was accidently shot when struggling with Mr. Gwinn.  Mrs. Gwinn was to meet Mr. Tanner near a road down by the North River and she would travel on with them.  Her and Mrs. Gwinn's mama would bring the children later.  And Mr. Gwinn was to found passed out from drink, thinking that he had seen Mrs. Gwinn spirited away by the old witch of the island.

Pa had gone to the spot where they were to meet, bringing Mr. Gwinn and several bottles of drink. Mama was to be with Mrs. Gwinn hiding on the island.  When Mr. Tanner drove by with his wagon. Mrs. Gwinn with the help of Mama and Mrs. Tanner was to be put into hiding in the wagon.  Mrs. Gwinn hid on the island. With Mama dressed in a cloak with her face hidden.  Pa soon came with Mr. Gwinn.  Pa carrying his musket.

*****
In today's world, Margaret Alford would either be labeled a suspense writer or possibly a drama queen for dragging out this story.  I have to admit that her twists and turns have even confused me. What happens next... well, you'll have to wait for the next Alford Tale.

Alford Tales -- Murder! Part 3

Thinking about that day Pa left with his musket.  Mama said "I saw him go towards Mr. Hoover's land.  Not north."  I did not ask, but it was a moment that I did not forget.

"Pa had left with is musket and went south."  Henry told me that as well.  He saw him.  Mr. Alford and I visited with Henry and Eleanor.  They stayed with us a few days before heading to the west.  On to Preble County in the Ohio country.  Going with their children.  We stayed here in Monroe County and said goodbye to John a few years ago as he left for Hancock County in the Indiana country.

"I saw him walking towards Mr. Hoover's farm.  Unless he turned north somewhere along the way, he went that way."  Mr. Hoover farmed over the hill.  He and my Pa had been good and neighborly.  Their children were gone west as well.  

"But later Robert and I found Pa's musket down by North River. I've never told anyone this. Robert never believed me so I never said anything about it.  He told me to forget it."  When Henry was growing up, he had a fancy to image things.  I was more sensible like my Mama.  Eliza and Sarah and I were all sensible.  We had to be with our husbands.  It wasn't until now when Henry said "I'd swear on the family Bible that what I saw was there.  She was there standing in the wood on that island in North River."

Henry told me what he say.  "She was there. The old witch that Pa always talked about. Standing there in plain daylight.  I though witches only came out at night."  When Henry said that, I couldn't help but wonder about something else I had heard.  He went on. "Robert didn't see her.  He was too busy looking at the musket.  Cleaning off the mud.  His back was to her and I could see her over his shoulder.  She had on a black cloak with her hood up over her head.  Could only see part of her face."

"You always had a wild imagination.  Remember that time that you thought you saw..."  He didn't let me finish my sentence.  That was unusual for Henry.  He was always polite and kind to listening.  Very much a man of the Bible's teachings.

"I saw her standing there. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.  And felt funny. Like she was trying to kill me.  Robert ran off with the musket.  He yelled to hurry up.  But I saw someone was running through the woods on the other side of the river.  Looked like a man.  I tried to see who it was but never did.  I was afraid to turn back to see if she was there.  I was just a youngin' then.  More scared than anything."

I began thinking about that time when Pa died.  Henry had seen the old witch of North River.  Someone running through the woods. Mama talking about Pa heading south and not north.  It all began to come together.  It all began to make sense what I had heard while listening to concerned news.  First someone running through the woods.  Someone meeting someone on the island.  And Pa with his musket.

That was when I knew Pa had not been murdered like I had always thought, but killed by accident.  Reminded me of that old play I saw once when a traveling troupe had come through Monroe County.  Down at Lewisburg. They acted out the play about Romeo and Juliet by that Mr. Shakespeare.  That's when I knew that the real murder had been of Mrs. Gwinn.  Part of a lover's plot.  

Alford Tales -- Murder! Part 2

Later that day, Pa and Joseph went to over to William Hinds for a meeting about the war.  Mama and I worried that Pa would leave to fight.

But he never did.  We were far away from the war out on the frontier.  Rockingham County was far away from the British. In fact, we were surprised when President Washington rode through.  Although later, I learned that Joseph had told me that when in fact it was George Washington. He had made that up.  He was an ornery cuss.

Mr. Alford and I went into daughter Sarah's last Sunday for a meal and readings.  As I was sitting there, I looked at her and she reminded me much of my Mama.  In fact, she smiled the way my Mama smiled.  Mama would smile whenever my Pa would return from a hunting trip, or brought home a nice fish, or even when he traded for some fine silk.  Enough for a new bonnet or cap.  But Pa also made her cry.

She cried for many days after Pa was laid to rest.  We thought for sure we would never see him again.  It was chilly that day.  Many of the neighbors came round to pay respects.  Even Mr. Alford from Ireland came.  I didn't like him that much.  He told Mama only a few days after Pa had left us that he would marry her if she wanted.  In her grief, she accepted, thinking more of us.  Poor Robert and Henry.  Barely knowing their Pa would now have a new pa.  An Irishman no doubt.

Mr. Alford's proposal came too soon for me.  I never liked him. Never gave Mama a chance to mourn that loss of Pa.  She never smiled the same.  She never smiled much after.  Mr. Alford sold Pa's 46 acres and we moved near Cross Keys and not far from the North River.  I remember one day while walking through the woods coming the island in the river.  The one where the witch lived.  

It was there later that Henry and Robert would find Pa's flintlock musket.  The one that he took with him that last day.  The one that he had his name engraved on the patch box.  The day that they brought that home, Mr. Alford was over to Mr. Shoulderman's, delivery their blankets and shirting.  Henry showed it to Mama.

"Where did you find it?"  She took it from Henry.  Turned it over and over.  Reading his name aloud.  "Henry Alford.  It was lost they said.  Lost in the woods.  North of our farm."  

Robert was only eight and was very excitable.  He stumbled his words.  Robert spoke.  "We found it by the island in the North River."  

Henry nodded.  "I saw it.  The sun was shining on it.  Did Pa lose it there?"  Mama looked like she was thinking hard about it.  She said "We must hide it and we will not talk about it."  It was me, Robert, Henry, and Mama.  Everyone else was gone.  Mama made us swear on the Bible.  "Swear that you will not say anything about it.  Mr. Alford need not know about it."  I had never sworn on the Bible, but Mama was serious.

She wrapped the musket into an old piece of cloth.  And we went out to an old hollow tree out in the woods.  She put the wrapped bundle into the hollow log.  "Not a word.  Not a word to anyone."  We looked at her.  And that was the last of the musket for sometime.  Until Henry went out one day many years later and dug up what was left.  This was after Mr. Alford had died and Mama asked about it.  The log had almost rotted away.  But he found the pieces.  The patch box with "Henry Alford" engraved on it.

At the time when they found Pa's musket, Henry had been six years old.  He was named after Pa, but he never said he was a junior.  But now, just a few years ago when were married and older, Henry told me his secret. And it was with that Henry and I knew what had happened to our Pa. It was murder.  Plain and simple.

Pa had been down south by North River, not far from Mr. Alford's land.  Not north of the farm.  Not near the 46 acres.  But it wasn't until Mama also said something that made me think. One day she was lost in her mind.  Thinking about that day Pa left with his musket.  She said "I saw him go towards Mr. Hoover's land.  Not north."  I did not ask, but it was a moment that I did not forget.

Alford Tales -- Murder! Part 1

The death of Margaret Alford's father, Henry, is a mystery.  There is no evidence of what happened to him, but he existed.  Therefore he lived, bought land, fathered at least one child, then simply disappeared.  No records exist from the late 1770s that give evidence, so I've given Margaret a voice to tell a story.  I've taken the liberty to fill it out with description, dialog, a "It was a dark and stormy night," and a "The End."

So sit back and enjoy Part 1 of Margaret's Tale of Murder!

******

It was a dark and stormy night. The signs told us that it would be.  The leaves on the trees had all turned over.  The forest animals hid.  And I noticed dark clouds forming to the west.  And God had sent us rain and thunder to Monroe County.

"Mr. Alford, do you want more apple pie or not?"  I got silence again.  I walked over to his chair by the fire and there he was.  Asleep.  Now I'd have some time for remembering.  So far, the year of our Lord 1836 had been a quiet one.  And now the autumn wasn't far away.  A few weeks and harvest time would be here.  It would my time to prepare for the winter again.  Churning butter. Drying pumpkin and herbs.  Again as I've done for many a winter before.

And soon, Mr. Alford and I would would be thankful for our 37th year, unless I decide to finally take the rolling pin to him. I've seen my children grow and move further west into what was the new land.  Ohio.  Remember it becoming a state in 1803.  Indiana in 1816, just twenty years ago.  Son John and his new bride, Eliza, had settled in a place called Hancock County.  Son James still here, talking about heading that way.  My daughter Sarah lives not far.  She and I will be quilting soon.  Need a new quilt.

My granddaughter has been helping me write, but this time, I am.  This tale is of murder, plain and simple.

My Pa, Henry Alford, came to Augusta County in 1768. He received a grant of land by 1771 and started a farmstead.  He had forty-six acres with forest and a creek nearby for water.  He had married my Mama, Nancy, before coming the county, bringing my older brothers to the new land.  I was born in 1773 in a simple cabin.  Rockingham County became a county in 1778 and I grew up there.  My Pa saw the founding of the new county during the war.  It was 1779 and I was 8 years that year.  I can remember the day that Pa went hunting.  That is when it started.

"Mama, when will Pa be home?  Do you know?"  Purl, knit, purl, knit, purl.  New row back the other direction.  The green yarn formed a new row on the garter.  Almost done.

"I'm not sure.  He is hunting down by the North River with Mr. Shank and Mr. Gwinn."  The wool twisted into the spindle and she kept feeding it more wool.  Eight balls that day, 35 for the week, 72 for the month.  "I've got to that this over to Mr. Alford so he can weave it into a blanket for us."

It was cold.  Winter was coming.  "Pa will be trading for it?  That old sow?"  Joseph was out in the barn. I could see him.  Bringing in wood. He was very strong for a twelve year old. He would take some of it to the saw mill with Pa when he got home.  Pine that would become lumber then to Mr. Rogers to become a new bookcase along the cabin wall.  Robert trailed him carrying as best he could same pieces of wood.  He was only three years.  Joseph eventually brought him into the cabin. 

Robert and Henry were my two younger brothers.  I kept eye on them.  Henry was only a year old.  Both too young to remember too much of our Pa, but never forgot him.  

"Pa's home." I saw him coming up the road.  Pa arrived back home with a few rabbits.  Stew would be dinner.  I greeted him at the door.

"There's my girl.  Knitting more garters. I could use a pair of new gloves."  He took the carving knife and went outside.

"She'll be learning soon enough.  Maybe by Christmas or the New Year."  Mama said to him as he left and to me "We'll get some blue from Mr. Alford when we take him the wool.  You can knit gloves.  I'll teach you.  Maybe Sally can help you."  My Aunt Sally lived not far and I would visit her to learn new stitches.

That night, I remember Pa telling us a tale about the North River.  He said "An old Indian witch lived there and her ghost haunted the small island out in the river."  His face was in half shadow from the fire.  I can still see him. His eyes looked dark.  I was scared by his tale.  "Small children have disappeared there.  Maybe became her dinner."  I felt Henry and Robert snuggle closer to my side.  He leaned forward in his chair.  "So you better not go near it."

"Stop scaring them like that."  Mama could see we were scared. That night I dreamt of an old witch coming after me.  I was running through the woods.  I kept waking up scared that she would get me.

A few days later, we took the wagon into Harrisonburg. Pa took wood to Mr. Rogers.  Mama went to the store to trade some more garters and a shawl she had knit up.  That was the day that we saw General Washington come riding through, off to Baltimore some said.  Some said to New York City.  I remember him well.  He looked down at me from on his horse.

Later that day, Pa and Joseph went to over to William Hinds for a meeting about the war.  Mama and I worried that Pa would leave to fight.

Alford Tales -- Married Life

Margaret and John Alford lived in Monroe County, Virginia (now West Virginia).  John's parents had moved there when John was young, but later returned to Rockingham County to marry.  Many people today believe in the myth that everyone married when young, like around 17 or 18.  But that is a myth.  Many records show that people married later, in their mid-20s.

Stay tuned for the next posts when I finally get around to the murder of Henry Alford.

For now enjoy "Married Life"

*******

Mr. Alford and I waited to get married.  I was not about to marry just for the sake of getting married.  Mr. Alford's family lived in Rockingham for several years before moving down to Monroe.  We met when we were young at Mr. Ellis' school.

I remember his Pa, John, visiting my Pa, Henry. And when my Pa died,  Mr. and Mrs. Alford helped our family.  Eventually my Mama married John Alford, an Irishman,  For a spell, we had three John Alford in Rockingham County -- my father-in-law, my husband, and my Mama's second husband.

My Mama's grandparents had no choice in their marriage. Practical reasons, that is why they were married.  Reasonable fortune, liveliness of manner, and a gentle wit.  That is why Mr. Alford and I got married.  He told me of his nice cabin and farm and a wit that I enjoy.  I offered him a good meal and shining piety and trust.  And also a fine ability to stitch and knit.

Mr. and Mrs. Alford, Mr. Alford's parents, had married for a similar reason.  She came with a dowry that he couldn't refuse.  She expected him to protect her out here on the frontier.  At the time, Monroe County was covered in dense forest and land had to be cleared.  And Mr. Alford's small fortune with her dowry helped to create prospects for them in a new county.  Although, I think it may have been her ability to provide a good meal as well as a fine household. 

Now, my Mama married for convenience.  When my Pa passed, my Mama and us were left without much.  Mr. Alford of Ireland offered a home and was a man of good profession. He had a useful trade which we all learned.  I learned to knit and sew finery.  Although not a blood family, he treated us like his own.  Mr. Alford of Ireland was a weaver and known for his trade in Rockingham and my Mama knew that this would be a useful trade for our future prospects in marriage.

When Mr. Alford came to visit, he would often bring news of friends and family from the west.  We would walk and speak of concerned news like I would do with my friends.  I knitted him a pair of mittens in wool, dyed in cochineal and indigo.  Of course, I knitted many a fancy for many a people in Rockingham.  Mr. Alford was most appreciative.  Upon visit, he had trade for new pins and presented them to me.  I made him a new scarf for his next visit.  It was a days ride to Monroe County. To Wolf's Creek where Mr. Alford would take me to live.

Even though, Mr. Alford the Irishman did not provide money for the bond, he and Mama did give us blankets and a fine quilt.  We would need them for the winter. Unlike some, we chose our family.  I remember a few wives who intentionally let the child go with the help of a midwife.  Often afraid a husband would leave is the family grew too large to support.  I would lose my first child, but God gave us our first boy. In 1801. Who we agreed to name Robert after my brother who had helped us marry.  The burden of bringing a child into the world is not an easy one to carry. 

Alford Tales -- My Wedding

 Margaret tells of her wedding.  Today, when we say wedding, we think of churches, white gowns, a procession, fancy dinners, a huge cake, and thousands of dollars flying out of some father's pocket.  Well, maybe Margaret might influence our thinking and return to something simpler.

This week's tale is My Wedding.

******

I was a strong minded woman for my time.  I was going to be spinster, but I decided that Mr. Alford would suit me.  He would allow me to read, write, and perhaps have a say if he wanted me to keep a clean house and fix him good meals.

I got married on the 16th day of October in the year of our Lord 1799.  Just a few months before the start of a new century.  And just a few months before our President would be called to be with our Lord in Heaven after he led our new nation as our first President. I had seen him once when he rode through Harrisonburg.  We had heard of him coming to see our new county.

I remember it well.  John and Mama took us all to see him as he visited with all the men.  Mama told me about how My Pa had wanted to go fight under him, but he never made it beyond the county to do so.  My Pa's name was Henry.  I can see him when I think about him, but that was long ago.  And when time came for me to wed, I made it clear who My Pa was.

Mr. Alford was born in Rockingham County but his parents and his sisters and brothers moved to Monroe County.  But kinship was important to all Alfords.  Family wasn't just by blood.  Now Mr. Alford was a year old that me.  Being born in 1772.  His father was also John.  Mother Jane.  They had a hard time keeping the John Alfords separated.  The man my Mama had married was also John, but he came from Ireland.  Mr. Alford's father was born in Virginia.

Mr. Alford came back to visit relations here in Rockingham County several times.  He would stop by and visit with us.  I was going on my twenty-first year and J my Mama and John began to worry that I might not find a man to marry me to.  Until one day, Mr. Alford stopped by for a visit and it was suggested that perhaps we should.  He being just a year older, but men could be spared the title spinster.  

So, Mr. Alford came back we few days before our blessed day.  John, my Mama's second husband, did not approve and refused to give a dowry nor be a part.  To which I was find with.  Him being an old bastard for being that way about it.  My sister's husband Abraham Funk came forward and arranged the bond.  Mr. Alford paid one hundred and fifty dollars to promise that he would marry me.  And he did. And I made sure that it was clear that I was the daughter of Henry Alford.  Written on the paper the bond was printed on.  My brother Robert swore to my age to our Justice of the Peace, Mr. Harrison.  I remember Mr. Harrison noting that he wished My Pa had been there that day to see his only daughter marry.  Mama remained silent.  And that same day, Minister Walsh joined us before God.

I wore my best dress.  It was a printed blue calico with a green dot pattern. John had traded for the calico.  Enough for a dress in trade for a wool blanket.  After we were wed, Mama, Eliza, and Sarah had prepared a meal for celebration.  We had pumpkin pie, a turkey, chicken, stewed pears, and oranges.  Which were also made into an orange pudding.  And dancing.  A fine celebration.

Mr. Alford and I stayed with my sister Sarah and her husband, Mr. Funk, for the night before the next day we traveled to Monroe County.  The day was cold but sunny.  I remember saying good bye to my family.  To be honest, I think John was glad to see me go.  Of course, some family came to Monroe County and were nearby. It was comforting to have others around who remembered My Pa.  I should say Our Pa.

Alford Tales -- A Trip to Court

Margaret took time to talk about the creation of Rockingham County and the celebrations that came after it.  She gave little information about the events, so this is first part written from what I could find about the county's founding, but the trip to the courthouse and witnessing a day in court was from Margaret herself.

Set back and enjoy "A Trip to Court."

*****

I was very young when Rockingham County was created from Augusta County in October 1777.  I was only 4 years old, but remember the celebrations.  Governor Henry made Silas Hart our first sheriff. I remember him after my father's death coming to see my Mama.  Rather sympathetic he was.  Tom Lewis came by as well.  He was the surveyor and surveyed Pa's land when he first moved here.  But that's a tale for another day.

Harrisonburg became the county seat in 1779.  I heard stories of the Knights of the Golden Horseshoe traveling through the area sometime well over a hundred years ago.  So that became the site of Rocktown.  Later renamed it to Harrisonburg after Tom Harrison.  He gave the town about 2 acres for use if the public good.  Used it for the first courthouse.  Later he gave more land.  His son Benjamin later married Mr. Alford and me.  But that's another tale for another day.

My Pa took us to Rocktown to a celebration of the new county.  It was in the spring the following year.  Too cold and too much work to prepare for the winter to be traveling in October.  I remember it was warm and it was the first time I had iced cream.  It had apricots in it.  Heard Mama talking to Mrs. Donald's about the receipt.  Came from Mrs. Glasse's. We had a good time.  Later went when Harrisonburg was named the county seat.  Sometimes I still call it Rocktown.  

My earliest memory of the courthouse was in October of 1780.  John took us over to Tom Harrison's plantation to do some trading of woven material, but also to see the building.  I was 12 years old.  I had seen it but never been in it.  It was a stone building.  Two story.  Divided into two rooms with windows and fireplaces.  They were using it as a courthouse that day.

They were holding court and the men were all arguing.  They were talking about Randall McDonald's daughter.  He had died while he was fighting in the army.  John Magill was taking care of her.  He got some corn and pork.  Then they argued about poor Anne Gum and her two, I think it was two, maybe three, no two children.  Lost her husband as well in the service.  My Pa had done work for the service.  We lost him as well.  

Many widows and children back in those days were taken care of by their neighbors and friends.  That is what happened to us.  After Pa died, John took us in. Married my Mama and treated us like his own.  We got land from him after he died.  My Pa's 46 acres were sold so Mama had some money when John met her.  I never went to any other courts until later in my life, here in Monroe County.  Mr. Alford has been many times.

Alford Tales -- Mrs. Gwinn

At the end of the last tale, Margaret mentioned the time that Mrs. Gwinn brought some of the most beautiful indigo wool.  That was the last time they ever saw her.

Curious about Mrs. Gwinn? 

Well, here it is...

*******

My Mama could dye any wool, cotton, linen, either before it was spun fresh off the sheep or out of the field.  Or spun up into yarn or linen.  We had iron pots, copper pots, brass pots. She had the mordants. We did not have indigo, but Mama did have the young boys to help, but she never was much into dyeing with it.  It was too much work.  But you could get it.

Mama's work grew after she married John.  John's first wife had died and he had remarried my Mama just for reputation for her skills.  She could card, spin, dye and knit.  And many had knitted goods from her.

Mrs. Gwinn lived near town.  Harrisonburg.  Her husband, Mr. Gwinn, did carpentry.  He helped John when he needed a new treadle or help in fixing the barn.  Mrs. Gwinn was a young woman of 25 and had one child.  A son.  She had lost her others.  Her family was back in Baltimore and her husband had brought her to Rockingham County about 10 years ago.  About 1779 I think. I was born in 1773 and she was about 10 years older.  I doesn't matter.  She was a good mother.

Now, Mr. Gwinn had done some work in trade for some spun wool, dyed in indigo.  I remember it will. It was the brightest blue I'd even seen.  She wanted a shawl knitted up with it.  She visited one day bringing the wool with her.  Walked out.  It was summer and not too hot.  Very much a strong headed young lady.  When she arrived, Mama fixed some tea and I had baked a gingerbread.  My favorite.  Learnt it from my Aunt who lived nearby.  Better than Mrs. Glasse's receipt.  

Mama and Mrs. Gwinn talked about the farms.  Mrs. Gwinn admired one of John's rugs that he had just finished weaving and said she was going to talk Mr. Gwinn into making a trade.  They had more indigo yarn as well as red made with cochineal.  Didn't believe her at first.  Mama said she'd take.  Later told me she could knit up some tippets of red.  Mittens, scarves, and maybe a purse or two.  Mrs. Gwinn stayed for some time.  

Mrs. Gwinn left about mid-afternoon.  That night, Mr. Gwinn came looking for her.  Said that she hadn't come home.  The sheriff was summoned and many of the neighbors.  They began to search for her.  Over near Cook's Creek by old Daniel Harrison's house, they found her bonnet and basket.  And then some boys were down by North River, they found her shawl.  They searched around the Harrison house, the mill, the distillery, and the woods around the area.  All along North River .  They never found her.  Mrs. Boon said that she has seen her and it was her that had seen her last.  She remembered her not having her bonnet on.  Fred Black and his son had been out hunting and claimed hearing a woman scream but they could never figure out where she was.

But we all knew, she had gotten spirited away onto the island in North River.  But no one ever would say it.  The North River splits south of where we lived near Cross Keys and Mill's Creek.  And there's an island.  One time, Robert and Benjamin told me a story about a young boy who disappeared when he waded out to the island.  And he wasn't the only one.  I've heard of several people have disappeared near there.  There was talk of a witch living on that island.  I heard John say that Mrs. Gwinn had been taken by the witch's ghost.  I thought that it was just a story to scare us.  But there was that one time when I saw her.  The old witch or maybe it was her ghost.  It was also there that they found my Pa's old musket after he was murdered.

Alford Tales -- Preparing for Winter

Margaret has many stories to tell about the winter months.  I could not imagine living in a log cabin through the winter.

And now onto "Preparing for Winter"

*****

My Pa, Henry, was a young man, when he died, but I have fond memories of him.  Pa and Mama lived with my grandpa William when they first married. They had meet at a corn husking bee.  They were neighbors and just like now, they would get together to help each other on their farms. 

My Pa talked about the survey of his 46 acres just north of Cook's Creek.  Our neighbor was John McDonald.  I remember him talking about getting his land in February of 1771.  We lived south and west of Harrisburg. He and my mother worked hard to to start our farm.  He and my grandpa came out and started to clear land and by April, they had built a two room cabin with a loft.  We had to work on the farm.  

Pa had built a large stone fireplace and stone hearth.  He had built in a small oven in the shape of a beehive.  I spent much time near that hearth.  And putting wood into that oven.  So many times we snuggled up in the winter near the fire and he would tell us about building his cabin then the barn.  A shed to store corn.  He spoke of the beginnings and how hard it was.  But he kept his family fed and warm.  

Mama and Pa had a bed.  It was very plain and simple.  Tall corner posts.  Made by a local carpenter who my Pa had worked for.  My sister Sarah got that bed.  Each year after the harvest we would shuck corn after it had dried.  And then wash the bed ticks, air them out, and refill them.  They were always nice and full.  My brother and I would jump on.  Mama would get upset. She say I want those husks to last all winter.  We had three of them to fill.  We also stuff in some straw.  As part of our chores my brother and I had to tighten the ropes on the bed.  Pulling the rope one way, then another until they were tightened back up.  Mama and Pa weren't large so we never had to tighten them much.    

During the winter, we all slept together to keep warm.  Mama had gotten three quilts for her wedding.  We used those and got warm wool blankets from a weaver near Mills Creek.  His name was also Alford but no relation.  I learned to churn butter that Mama would store in old crocks.  I would help Mama put vegetables in a hole in the ground.  Layered in straw.  We dried pumpkins and apples and beans. We roasted the pumpkin seeds that weren't kept for next years crop. One year Pa managed to get a couple of oranges.  Dipped in wax to keep them.

My Mama kept a large garden.  Potatoes, carrots, onions, parsnips, pumpkins.  Mama was very proud of her herbs.  Parlsy, thyme, sage and others.  She laid it out near the cabin so she could easy get to it when she cooked.  We tied them up and hung them to dry above the fireplace.  My Pa raised corn, took care of our two cows, and sheep. Two horses as well. He butchered a pig every fall.  Mama would make sausage.  Pa would smoke ham over at Grandpa William's. He would also trade for whatever we needed.  Mama trade potatoes one time for baskets.

We kept warm during the winter.  Pa and the boys chopped enough wood to last for sometime.  Snow and ice eventually came and we'd be snug.  We would walk to school in the cold.  I would come home and practice my words on my slate. I learned how to write and read at school then come home and knit.  Mama taught me.  She would knit up socks, shawls, muffettes and trade them.  People would bring her their yarn and she'd knit up what they wanted.  One year she traded a scarf for a slate for me to use in school.

I remember the time that Mrs. Gwinn brought some of the most beautiful indigo wool.  That was the last time we ever saw her.

Alford Tales -- Silas Rogers, Carpenter

The next page, dear reader tells of a sad story.  It's about loss, building, and squirrels.

Wood was a primary resource for the settlers of various areas of the United States.  They used it to houses, cooking, making furniture, and even tools.  Carpenters and wagon makers made their livings off the forests, but also the animals that lived there.

So, enjoy another of Margaret's tales.

I've named it simply "Silas Rogers, Carpenter"

*****

When I was about 6, I remember my Pa telling me a story from when he was a young man so, it must have been sometime about the year of our Lord 1760 or so.  They lived near the sawmill of Silas Rogers.  My Pa never talked about where this was, but the mill produced much lumber for the area.  Probably somewhere in eastern Virginia.  My Pa remembered his uncle Robert's carpenter shop and he would get wood from Silas Rogers to make chest of drawers, chairs, and table or whatever some one wanted.

My Pa told of a barn raising on Silas Roger's farm.  As I recall, it was in the spring.  Many of the neighbors came around to help.  We had many bees and barn raising was one of them.  Everyone working together to help each other.  Silas Roger's had three sons.  One was 12, one 18, and the oldest 22.  His name was Paul.  He had married a young woman and they had built a cabin on the back of Silas' land.  And now they needed a barn for crops and their cow and horses.  My Pa told me that while they were loading a oak beam, the rope broke and fell.  It had fallen on Silas' youngest son, Willie.  Killed him.  Willie and my Pa had been good friends and attended school together.  The rope had been gnawed on by a squirrel and made it weak.  Squirrel stew was served for their supper, for many days.  My Pa got tears in his eyes when he told us the story.

That was the first of many sad stories for Silas Roger's family that my Pa told.  Latter that year, poor Silas' crops were destroyed.  Not by fire or draught or storms, but by squirrels  That year, there was a might squirrel migration.  I've never seen one myself but have heard about them. Thousands of squirrels moved like a might ocean wave over the land, heading to wherever they went.  I've heard further west out in Ohio and Indiana and Illinois that squirrels migrated so thick.   

Pa said that Silas moved his family to Kentucky and got land.  And started a new carpenter shop.  People would be needing furniture and barrel staves and whatnot.  But a few years later, one squirrel caused a fire, killing almost the entire family.  Pa had heard the news from Silas' sister, Rachel Davidson.  They lived not far from us.  She told my Pa that a squirrel had gotten into shop and knocked over a lantern into a pile of shavings. The carpenter shop went up in flames.  And a strong wind blew them right onto the house.  It was winter and the family got trapped outside in the cold. Several of them got the fever and died. Silas died a few years after that.

Squirrels were a curse for the Rogers family.  My Pa said squirrel was on the table whenever possible. He did not like them.  Ma makes John squirrel ever so often.  Not really fond of it.  Probably why when your grandpa comes in with a squirrel, I throw it right out.  Tell him my Mrs. Glasse does not have a receipt for squirrel. Tell him to go right back out to get us a rabbit or he'll go hungry.  He likes a good roasted rabbit.  Some milk and butter to baste.  Some current jelly.  Potatoes, turnips, carrots, onions.  I always feel bad about making him go back out to hunt again, so I let him have cowslip wine.

That chair and your bedstead and Mr. Alford's chest of drawers were all made by Silas Rogers and his son Enoch.  When my Ma died, I got the bedstead and chair.  Always loved them.  Nice cherry wood in that bed.  Silas made furniture for many folks in Rockingham County.  John often traded for weaving up shirting and blankets for them.  Remind me when we talk again to tell you about the story about General Washington sitting in one of his chairs.

Alford Tales -- When I was 5

Welcome dear reader.  Once again I sit here, listening to Margaret's voice in my head as I transcribe her words.  I do want you to know that I do not know how this ends.  Like some readers who can't stand the suspense and read the last chapter before they start the first, I enjoy the ride and in no hurry to get to the final answer of the burning question that she left us with in the introduction.

Having been around weavers, spinners, and dyers, I have a great appreciation for this tale.

So, sit back and enjoy.

"When I was 5"

******

My Mama, may she rest peacefully, was named Nancy.  She was a small woman, hard-working just like everyone else, frugal but charitable, and read the Bible everyday.  Loved her children and looked out for us.  She may have been kind, but she expected each of us children to do our chores and could be meaner than a snake when stepped on.

One of my favorite memories of my Mama was when I was about 5. It would have been about 1778.  The war for our independence from the British often drew near to our farm.  I'll tell you other stories about those years.

At home, I remember Mama working with a pile of sheep's wool, that Pa and my brother Joseph had sheered. Made the sheep looked bare. I remember saying to Pa, Do those sheep feel cooler with all that wool gone?  He answered Do you feel cooler when you don't wear wool?  I said Yes 'um.  He said I suspect they feeler cooler too. Pa took the time to educate as much as he could in his own way.  Mama on the other hand said No time for play, got to get this wool washed and carded.

Joseph was sent off to fetch water.  Yolk on his shoulders and off the went. Cook's Creek wasn't far.  Lucky to be living near a creek.  Also had rainwater but used it for laundry and drinking.

We carded wool.  I learned to hold wood cards that Mama had made from teasels.  She had a fancy pair that she has gotten from her Mama as a wedding gift.  I never knew her.  She died when my Mama was a young woman, much like when my Pa died when I was young. Our hands were always soft from the wool. Mama said that there was something in it that would keep them that way.  Carding, carding, and carding.  I eventually taught Robert to do it whenever he wasn't working with Pa in the fields or barn.  We had a herd of sheep to tend to.  With Mama and John being weavers, we needed the wool. 

My Mama was a weaver like John, her second husband.  They had married because of that.  Mama worked wool, cotton, and flax into yarn and thread.  I learned from her and my older sister Eliza.  I was five when I first held knitting pins to learn to knit.  First to cast, then to knit and purl, and finally binding off.  I learned to garter stitch.  Mama said that garters would always be needed and would be easy for me to knit.  For several months I knitted brown garter after brown garter.  And after I complained for some time about brown,  Mama gave me green.  I like green as you can see from my green dress.  (She is wearing a beautiful green print cotton dress with a yellow posy pattern.)

I was old enough to learn to use the drop spindle.  I was constantly frustrated as the wool pulled apart before I could get a it spinning. And the spindle hit the floor. Robert wasn't much help. Younger brothers!  Robert was only two.  And Henry but a baby.  Eventually Sarah would join us.  Poor mother.  Having to welcome Sarah into the world as a widow.  Sarah only knew John as her father.

As I was saying, I learned to spin and knt wool when I was about 5.  It would take sometime but I soon learned to use the great wheel.  Spinning up to several skeins a day.  Mama eventually taught me to dye. Madder, woad, weld, and some indigo.  How my hands were blue.  Cochineal was too expensive for us at the time, but Mama would trade for some.   We would have red mittens for winter.  One time, Mama had enough to knit a red tippet.  She wore it only on special occasions. Eventually gave it to my sister Eliza as a wedding present when she married John Boon. 

Felix Gilbert had a store near Peale's Cross Roads.  John and Mama often went there with their woven coverlets and would trade for other goods.  Mama would get us cotton material for a new dress or two.  One time when I was older about 8, I went with them.  I remember fine linens, calicoes, prints, silks.  I remember my first piece of silk that I made into a handkerchief.  Kept it in my box on the chest of drawers. It was then that I first meet my friend Betsy. She was also 8 and her family had bought land bout two miles from us. But more about her later.

When I was 5, was when I learned much of my skills to knit, spin, weave.  Nowadays, here in 1836, I can get just about anything for trade at the store.  But let's end this with this tale.

It was summer.  I was five.  I walked to the creek to wade. It was warm.  I could see my Pa and Joseph working on the fence that snaked along our land.  As I waded along the bank in the cool water, I could see fish.  One time I saw a snake.  Didn't like them.  Still don't.  I remember listening to flowing water and the sun reflecting off it.  I was playing with some sticks, floating them like boats on the water.  I didn't really notice that I was being watched until I looked up.  And there he was.  A boy no bigger than me.  Peering between the branches on a tree.  I almost didn't notice him until he moved.  He was dark skinned. Crouching down. Just watching. He was an Indian.  At the time, I knew that they lived near, but I had never seen one.  Only heard about them.  And there he was.  I was shy but I waved and he stood up and he came down to the bank on the other side of the creek.  I picked up my sticks floating and said Boats.  I remember I put them back in the water and push them around.  He grinned watching me.  He picked a few leaves and put them on the water to watch them float.  Pushing them further out to the middle of the creek, they sped along.  A race. We raced leaves and sticks.  He would be my friend by the creek for sometime.  Until one day he didn't come.

Alford Tales -- An Introduction

Welcome dear readers to 2023.  Not only a new year, but a return to one of my many talents.  That of telling a tale, spinning a yarn, weaving fact and fantasy into a coverlet. Its colors vibrant.  Its intricate pattern flowing.  A small aspect pulled from the story to come.

As I sit here at my loom, which by the way looks very much like a laptop, selecting the threads (also know as words) and pondering the pattern (also known as the story), I can't help but wonder where this will take me. For not only am I a weaver, but also a librarian, a curator, a researcher, and, the title I enjoy the most, a sleuth of history.  And all of those "hats" the I wear are difficult to separate. Often they all like to be worn at the same time.

The story is a narrative by and older woman, reflecting on her life. It was actually written for her for I suspect that she did not write well.   Oh, and to make life easier for us both (me the transcriber and you the reader), I have taken the liberty to tidy up the spelling and the grammar.  I hope you don't mind, but if you do, tough.  Oh, and one more thing, there are notes in the text written by one of her scribes.  You'll see what I mean when you get there.

So dear reader, sit back and let me share with you a tale that was found, presented, rejected, and put back into hiding.

I have named this introduction "My Name is Margaret."

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I was schooled in a one-room school house.  An old log cabin built by one of the first families to arrive in the area.  Mr. Jarvis was the teacher. A young man.  Handsome or so some of the young ladies thought.  He was a nice man until you crossed him.  I don't think that one boy's breeches in that school ever avoided his switch at one time or another.  He eventually married as he promised since the child was supposedly his.  I learned some arithmetic, learned to read some, write a little.  To tell truth, I am having my granddaughter write these stories. She and I get along fine.  My brother Robert's son comes to visit as well and helps write these.  (She told me to put here that I am smarter than she is when it comes to writing.  And also that I spell a lot better.)

Not quite sure why I want to tell them, but feel the need to tell them.  And they both have taking an interest in our family's story which helps to make it worth while.

I was born in the spring in the year of our Lord 1773.  My mama named me Margaret.  Of course everyone called me Peggy.  We lived on land granted to my pa about 1769 in Augusta County, Virginia.  Like most families in the area, we worked the land.  My pa had planted crops and my brothers helped him.  We was one of the lucky families.  Our crops grew and we survived.  Ma and us children tended the garden.  She spun and wove fabric.  She was a weaver.  I remember combing wool.  Watching my mama spinning it.  Learning to spin when  I got older.  Hated flax.  It could cut you if you weren't minding what you were a doing. Now I can buy fabric it if I want.  My husband and I have done well.

My pa had moved to Augusta County, Virginia from some place else, but I never knew where.  My grandpa Alford lived down the road.  His name was William Alford.  I didn't know much about him.  My older brothers and sister knew him a bit, but never spoke of him. They had been told not to, but id didn't know that until later.  After that old Irish bastard was dead.  (I didn't want to write that word, but she made me. I had to look it up in the family Bible.) 

Now one of most important stories I know is the one about my pa.  It wasn't until later that I found out who had murdered him.  No one but me ever knew until later when I told what I knew, saw and heard.  Not sure even now how to tell it, but someone murdered him.  Killed him.  Is one of the worst memories I have.

And so my friends, that's what this here tale is all about.  I just can't tell you.  Got to tell the whole story from the beginning.  Just who and why my pa was murdered.  Who killed Henry Alford?