“For
a specimen of the hardships those have often to encounter who move into
the wilderness, I will give the following, that took place the winter after
I came on: We had a remarkable snow, the first of consequence that fell;
it was full two feet deep. Our communication was with the inhabitants of
Hydepark, and it was necessary for us to keep the road, or rather path,
so that we could travel; we were apprehensive of danger, if we did not
immediately tread a path through this snow. I was about out of meal, and
had previously left a bushel at a deserted house about five miles on the
way. I agreed with Esq.Taylor, he being the only inhabitant with met to
start the next day on the proposed tour. We accordingly started before
sunrise; the snow was light, and we sunk deep into it. By the middle of
the day it give some, which made it still worse; our snow-shoes loaded
at every step; we had to use nearly our whole strength to extricate the
loaded shoe from its hold. It seemed that our hip joints would be drawn
from their sockets. We were soon worried—could go but a few steps without
stopping; our fatigue and toil became almost insupportable—were obliged
often to sit down and rest, and were several times on the point of giving
up the pursuit, and stop for the night, but this must have been fatal,
as we had no axe to cut wood for a fire; our blood was heated, and we must
have chilled. We finally, at about dusk, reached the deserted house, but
were in effect exhausted. It seemed we could not have reached this house
had it been twenty rods further; so terrible is the toil to travel through
deep snow, that no one can have a sense of it till taught by experience.
This day's journey is often on my mind; in my many hard struggles it was
one of the severest. We struck up a fire and gathered some fuel that lay
about the house, and after we had recovered strength, I baked a cake of
my meal. We then lay down on some hewn planks, and slept sound till morning.
It froze at night; the track we had made rendered it quite feasible traveling.
The next day I returned home with my bushel of meal.
“Another
perilous tour I will mention, that occurred this winter. It was time to
bring on another load of meal from Esq. McDaniels. I proposed in my mind
to go early the next morning. There had been a thaw, and in the time of
the thaw a man had driven a yoke of oxen from Cabot, and went down on my
path, and trod it up. The night was clear—the moon shown bright, and it
was remarkably cold. I awoke, supposing it nearly day, and sat out, not
being sensible of the cold, and being thinly clad I soon found I was in
danger of freezing, and, began to run, jump, and thrash my hands, etc.
The path being full of holes, and a light snow had just fallen that filled
them up, I often fell, and was in danger of breaking my limbs, etc. The
cold seemed to increase, and I was forced to exert my utmost strength to
keep from freezing; my limbs became numb before I got through, though I
ran about every step of the eight miles, and when I got to McDaniel's the
cocks crowed for day. I was surprised upon coming to the fire to find that
the bottoms of my moccasins and stockings were cut and worn through, the
bottoms of my feet being entirely bare, having cut them by the holes in
the path; but notwithstanding the severity of the frost, I was preserved,
not being frozen in any part. Had I broken a limb, or but slightly sprained
a joint, which I was in imminent danger of doing, I must have perished
on the way, as a few minutes of respite must have been fatal.
“In
the early part of my residence in Wolcott, by some means I obtained knowledge
of their being beaver on a small stream in Hardwick; and desirous to improve
every means in my power for the support of my family, and to retrieve my
circumstances, I determined on a tour to try my fortune at beaver hunting.
Accordingly, late in the fall, I set out in company with my neighbor Taylor
on the intended enterprise. We took what was called the Coos road, which
was nothing more than marked treads; in about seven miles we reached the
stream, and proceeded up it about three miles farther, and searched for
beaver, but were soon convinced that they had left the ground. We, however,
set a few traps. Soon after we started it began to rain, and before night
the rain turned into a moist snow that melted on us as fast as it fell.
Before we reached the hunting-ground we were wet to our skins; night soon
came on—we found it necessary to camp (as the hunters use the term); with
difficulty we struck up a fire, but our fuel was poor, chiefly green timber—the
storm increased—the snow continued moist; our bad accommodations grew worse
and worse; our fire was not sufficient to warm us and much less to dry
us; we dared not attempt to lay down, but continued on our feet through
the night, feeding our fire and endeavoring to warm our shivering limbs.
This is a memorable night to me; the most distressing I ever experienced;
we anxiously looked for day. At length the dawn appeared, but it was a
dismal and a dreary scene. The moist snow had adhered to every thing in
its way; the trees and underwood were remarkably loaded, were completely
hid from sight—nothing to be seen but snow, and nothing to be heard but
the cracking of the bended boughs under the enormous weight, we could scarcely
see a rod at noonday. When light enough to travel, we set out for home,
and finding it not safe to leave the stream for fear of getting bewildered
and lost, we followed it back; it was lined the chief of the way with beaver
meadow, covered with a thick growth of alders; we had no way to get through
them but for one to go forward and beat off the snow with a heavy stick.
We thus proceeded, though very slowly, down the stream to the Coos road,
and worried through the ten miles home at the dusk of the evening, nearly
exhausted by fatigue, wet and cold, for it began to freeze in the morning;
our clothes were frozen stiff on our backs; when I pulled off my great
coat it was so stiff as to stand up on the floor. In order to save our
traps we had to make another trip, and one solitary muskrat made up our
compensation for this hunting tour.
“A
painful circumstance respecting my family I must here mention. In the year
1806, we were visited with sickness that was uncommonly distressing, five
being taken down at the same time, and several dangerously ill. In this
sickness I lost my wife, the partner of my darkest days, who bore her share
of our misfortunes with becoming fortitude. I also lost a daughter at the
same time, and another was bedrid about six months, and unable to perform
the least labor for more than a year. This grevious calamity involved me
in debts that terminated in the loss of my farm, my little all; but by
the indulgence of feeling relatives I am still permitted to stay on it.
Though I have been doomed to hard fortune I have been blest with a numerous
off-spring; have had by my two wives seventeen children, thirteen of them
daughters; have had fifty-one grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren,
making my posterity seventy-four souls.
“ I
have here given but a sketch of my most important sufferings. The experienced
farmer will readily discover, that under the many embarrassments I had
to encounter, I must make but slow progress in clearing land; no soul to
help me, no funds to go to, raw and inexperienced in this kind of labor,
though future wants pressed the necessity of constant application to this
business, a great portion of my time was unavoidably taken up in pursuit
of sustenance for my family, however reluctant to leave my labor, the support
of nature must be attended to, the calls of hunger cannot be dispensed
with. I have now to remark, that at this present time, my almost three-score
years and ten, I feel the want of those forced exertions of bodily strength
that were spent in those perils and fatigues, and have worn down my constitution,
to support my decaying nature.
“When
I reflect on those past events, the fatigue and toil I had to encounter,
the dark scenes I had to pass through, I am struck with wonder and astonishment
at the fortitude and presence of mind that I then had to bear me up under
them. Not once was I discouraged or disheartened: I exercised all my powers
of body and mind, to do the best I could, and left the effect for
future events to decide without embarrassing my mind with imaginary evils.
I could lie down at night, forgetting my troubles, and sleep composed and
calm as a child; I did in reality experience the just proverb of the wise
man, that ‘the sleep of the laboring man is sweet, whether he eat little
or much.’ Nor can I close my tale of sufferings without rendering my feeble
tribute of thanks and praise to my benign Benefactor, who supplies the
wants of the needy and relieves the distressed, that in his wise Providence
has assisted my natural strength, both of body and of mind, to endure those
scenes of distress and toil."
County
of Orleans, Nov'r. 1824.
“The
undersigned, having read in manuscript the foregoing narrative, and having
lived in habits of intimacy with, and in the neighborhood of Seth Hubbell
at the time of his sufferings, we are free to inform the public, that we,
have no doubt but his statements are, in substance, correct. Many of the
circumstances therein narrated we were at the time personally knowing to,
and are sensible more might be added without exaggeration, in many instances
wherein he suffered. "
“Thomas
TAYLOR, Justice of Peace.
“Darius FITCH,
J. of Peace.
"John McDANIEL,
J. P.
"Jesse WHITNEY,
J. P.
Mr. Hubbell
was known among his townsmen as a good and pious man. He died in 1832,
aged seventy-three years, leaving a valuable farm to his descendants. |
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*This
is an untitled work. I have added the title for convenience.
[Tom Dunn]
(Source: Gazetteer
of Lamoille and Orleans Counties, VT.; 1883-1884,
Compiled and Published by Hamilton Child; May 1887, Page 150-158)
Additional
information available from Tom
Dunn
who provided this wonderful treasure.
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